#him: did it tickle in your stomach (makes sense in our language) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

randomshyperson · 4 years ago

Note

Can I request a modern angsty Wanda x Female reader where they’re best friends? R is openly out while Wanda is still in the closet. They very much like each other but Wanda still pushes her feelings away. And R says something like “I wish we could stop playing this game where we act like you don’t love me...it’s getting tiring to not love you in the way I want.” And like hopefully a happy ending :)

Hey, hope you’re fine :) I wanted to make something nice to you ‘cause you’re always so nice to me. Really hope you like this, i tried to follow everything you request.

Good reading!

Gif is not mine, and it doesn't really match any scene, but Lizzie just look so good in this. who even look this good while fighting.

Wanda Maximoff x Reader - Friends never love me like you

Words: 6.785k // Read in AO3 too

Warnings> 16+, hints of smut, soft angst, fluffy i think, language.

You're dreaming about Wanda again, and it makes sense, because your face is buried in her hair as you sleep in her bed.

And then the alarm clock is ringing and you grumble, scrambling up in bed to reach the device on the nightstand.

- Come on, Wandy, we need to get up. - You say as you stretch and sit up in bed, having turned off the noise. Wanda grumbles in displeasure, and puts her pillow over her face. You laugh, moving closer. - Wandy... wake up...

And then you are tickling her, and she is squirming as she laughs. But you let go quickly, laughing too.

- You're mean. - She says, and you shrug, getting up.

- Come on, it's our last week. - You say as you walk toward the bathroom. You have a toothbrush at Wanda's, a friend thing.

Then many minutes later, you are at school, surrounded with your group of friends in the cafeteria area, Wanda's head resting on your shoulder.

Everyone is used to the demonstrations of affection from the two of you, and even though you have been out since elementary school, none of your friends hint at anything about it. Wanda has been your best friend since kindergarten, and you really believed that she would be a part of your life forever.

And as you hold her hand through the hallways, or exchange messages between classes that you don't share, you smile, and think that nothing could ever change that.

//-//

Things begin to change on prom day.

Trish Walker has been your classmate for three years, and she has always hated you for no apparent reason. Well, you guessed the reason, really. You remember how she tried to humiliate you last year by making a mean comment during a debate in history class, and you just turned to her with a wry smile and said "You don't have to fight me to get my attention. Just ask me out," and you watched her turn pink and mumble that this was absurd, as she quickly left the room. But that's past, and you've forgotten.

And so here you are ignoring the strange feeling in your stomach that settled in when you saw Wanda dancing with Vision, a boy from your class who asked her to the dance at the last minute, justifying that he was embarrassed. You smiled when Wanda told you, even though you weren't happy about it. And now she was dancing, and you were walking outside with your hands in your pockets when you heard someone crying.

Trish was sitting on the sidewalk, and you approached slowly.

- Hey. - You greeted her, and she quickly began to wipe away her tears, letting out a humorless laugh. - Can I sit with you?

- It's a public street. - She replies, extending her arm. You chuckle lightly, sitting down next to her.

- Can I ask why you are crying?

- Why do you care?

You shrug, looking at the parking lot in front of you.

- I am curious. - You say simply, and Trish holds back the tears in her eyes as she looks in the same direction as you, and hugs her knees.

-I'm just... - She starts and takes a deep breath to control her tears, and then lets out a wry laugh. - You were right about me.

You raise your eyebrow slightly, turning toward her. But she is still looking straight ahead.

- I like girls. - She confesses, tears streaming down her face. You frown. - And I just told my boyfriend that. And he didn't take it very well.

You let out a sigh.

- You want me to punch him? - You offer with a smile and she laughs, wiping her face. But then you change your posture to a tender one. - I'm sorry about that, Trish. - You say and she nods slightly, looking down at her lap. - I know you hate me and all, but I'm here if you need to talk about it.

Trish lifts her head, blinking in confusion. And then she laughs, and you look at her in surprise.

- I don't hate you. - she says with a shy smile. - I never hated you. I just... It was because of you that I told Peter I was bi.

You're really surprised.

- Wow, really? - you ask, and she nods, her face flushed. And then she moves forward, kissing you quickly. You swallow dryly as you pull away. - Trish...

- Damn, I'm sorry! - she asks, shaking her head and closing her eyes. - I'm so stupid!

- Hey, no. - You tell her sweetly, hoping she'll look at you again. - It's just that I was surprised. And well, you haven't been very nice to me over the years. - You point with a smile. - I didn't expect that.

Trish raises her eyebrows slightly.

- But last year, you made fun of me. - She retorts and you frown, not remembering, and seeing her expression, she sighs. - I guess I thought about it a lot more than you did. - she comments. - Last year, when I found out that I liked you, I tried to torment you at school for no reason. And then you retorted my teasing by saying that I was probably in love with you.

You let out a little laugh, remembering.

- Yeah, sorry about that. - You say. - I wouldn't have said anything like that if I had known it was true. It's not nice to bring people out of the closet.

Trish nods slightly, and you are silent for a moment.

- Do your parents know? - she asks curiously. You start to fiddle with your shoelaces.

- I told my father when I was 13. - You say. - I think my mother heard about it from him. And yours?

Trish lets out a humorless laugh.

- No chance. - She denies it. - My mother would kill me. I need to be far away from this place if I'm ever going to date a girl.

- This sucks. - You remark before you return to silence.

And then there is a noise and you turn your head slightly back to see two students stumbling out of the gymnasium as they exchange a passionate kiss, and you laugh lightly.

- I think you should go back to the party. - You say with a smile and Trish looks at you with a furrowed brow. - You look very pretty, Trish. You shouldn't be crying in the corner, especially since you're going to be prom queen for sure.

Trish laughs, looking away. And when you stand up, and offer your hand for her to hold, she accepts it and gets up.

You walk side by side back to the party, the place is packed and the music is pleasantly loud.

As your gaze wandered around the room, you felt your chest tighten. Wanda and Vision were kissing softly as they danced in a far corner. You swallowed the lump in your throat, and felt Trish pull your hand gently, asking you to dance with her.

When she was crowned prom queen a few songs later, you let her kiss you again, and this time, you kissed her back.

//-//

You keep telling yourself that nothing is different in your relationship with Wanda.

Because in theory nothing has changed. You still spend a lot of time together, and there are still messages, and jokes, and coffees and outings. And then you are packing for college, because of course you two were going to the same place, and her hand is in yours all the way there.

What has changed is the notifications from Vision on her cell phone, and the phone calls you get from Trish. But you two play along. There is nothing to talk about.

Unfortunately you are not in the same dorm, and Wanda lets out a dissatisfied sigh when you hug her last to grab the boxes you need to carry to your room.

- I'll be at the end of the hall, Wandy. - You comment but she is not happy at all.

- That is so unfair. - She says with a pout. - I wanted you to stay with me.

You let out a little laugh, ignoring the pounding of your heart. You were going to tell her that you would see her every day, but then there is a girl coming into the dormitory next.

- Hello - she greets you both with a smile. - Which one of you will be my roommate?

- Tha'ts me. - Wanda says with a smile as she extends her hand to greet the girl. - I'm Wanda, and this is Y/N.

- Monica. - The girl says smiling. - Is your girlfriend going to study here too?

- She is not my girlfriend. - Wanda harshly clarifies, and you frown for a moment, surprised at her aggressiveness. Monica doesn't seem to mind, and lets out a giggle, explaining that it was common for boyfriends and girlfriends to help freshmen get settled in.

And then you nod slightly at her, and pick up your boxes from the floor, carrying them to your room at the end of the hall.

There is a girl in your room sitting on the bed opposite the room, and you smile at her, while she seems to be appraising you.

- Hello, it looks like we're going to be roommates. - You say amiably as you leave the boxes on the floor.

The girl ends up interrogating you for the next few minutes, and you are surprised to find out that she is studies business, not espionage. She asks your major, your age, your parents' names, and how many friends you have. It's a little intimidating, but you answer honestly. And then she smiles and stands up, saying that you were nice and she was happy to have you as a colleague. She invited you to have coffee with her when you're done before she left the room, and you were quite surprised by the whole thing.

- Hey, did you get everything? - Wanda asked as she entered your room. You were still slightly upset by the way she had reacted earlier, and just nodded. - Can we have a snack?

- Sorry, Wands. - You denied it by organizing one of the last books. - I'm busy.

Wanda blinked in surprise, and crossed her arms.

- What's wrong? - She asked, but you didn't look at her, which seemed to bother her more.

- It's nothing, I just want to finish tidying up. - You lie.

- Fine then. - She says, sounding upset. - I'll see you later.

And she leaves. You feel like running after her, and apologizing for, well you don't know what exactly. But you just slam the book down harder than necessary.

//-//

You only see Wanda the next day, as she answers a call from Vision outside her room. You swallow the bitter feeling in your throat, and smile, giving her a kiss on the cheek to greet her before heading toward the cafeteria. You have coffee together, and share class schedules so you know when you have time together.

- Is your roommate nice? - You asked as you poured yourself some more cereal, Wanda was leaning her head on her hand, looking at you.

- She is noisy. - Wanda says. - Like you.

You laugh before putting a spoonful of cereal in your mouth. As you chew, Wanda speaks again:

- Your seems grumpy. - She comments and you nod in agreement, causing Wanda to smile slightly.

You drink some orange juice before speaking again.

- She is surprisingly nice, actually. - You comment. - She took me out for coffee yesterday, and we talked.

Wanda murmured, looking away. Maybe she was still upset that you refused to go out with her, but you didn't say anything.

When you finish breakfast, you have your first classes. You expect to see Wanda soon, but your schedules don't really match.

You just hope it doesn't affect your relationship too much.

//-//

College was a stressful and uncomfortable experience. The classes were difficult and long, and the assignments were even worse than those in high school. And the little free time you had, you wanted to spend with Wanda, but you couldn't neglect your other friends, and you had to divide this little time very well. The parties were good because you got to see all the people at once.

So, two months since you started studying at NYU, you were on the roof of the boys' dormitory, at one of the numerous parties, laughing at Carol Danvers' joke about adult life.

And your friends are all around you, laughing and talking. And you think you're staring too much at Wanda, who looks stunning in her black dress, but you've been drinking for a few minutes, so you don't care.

Someone turns up the music, and your friends cheer, and then Carol is pulling you by the hand inside, while Nat, Tony, Steve, Sam, Bucky, Wanda and Monica follow behind.

You begin to dance all together, and you let the beat of the music command your movements as you close your eyes. Then you end up in front of Wanda, because it has always been this way, your bodies always pulled together.

And it's okay to dance close together, because it's a party. You don't complain when your bodies come together, and she doesn't complain when your hands go down her waist, or when your hips rub against each other. No one seems to notice that your foreheads are together, and you both gasp out of breath shaken by the intensity of your movements.

But someone is drinking too much, and they bump into you, breaking the spell as you stumble away. Your head is spinning a little, and there's someone yelling fight, and then your friends are pulling you by the hand out of the building.

With the night air, you breathe better. And your gaze searches for Wanda, but she doesn't look happy. She says from a distance that she is tired, and turns toward her own dormitory. You want to go after her, but the look on her face says she wants to be alone. So you take the after party invitation your friends offer.

You are getting used to having more friends that are as close as Wanda. You realize that adult life changes relationships considerably, especially since you no longer have the same amount of time. You prefer to believe that you are getting closer to other people, rather than further away from Wanda.

//-//

It is during the Thanksgiving holiday that you discover that Wanda likes girls.

The two of you have returned home, and your father has joined Wanda's family in celebration.

After eating a lot, laughing and playing fun games with the whole family, you and Wanda have had many sips of wine, and you are tired and giggly.

You go up to Wanda's room, and talk about college with your heads on the pillows. And then both of you are with your eyes closed, whispering, and practically asleep.

- I am pansexual. - She whispers weakly..

You thought maybe you were dreaming, and it took you a few seconds to fight the sleep and open your eyes, finally understanding what Wanda said. But when you looked at her, she was asleep. You frowned in surprise as you sat up in bed. You ran your fingers through your hair, and moved closer to Wanda only to cover her with the blanket. You lay back down, trying not to stare so long at her sleeping face, but she looked so beautiful and peaceful. Your heart was racing, and you lied to yourself that it was just because of her words. And then you closed your eyes, and it didn't take you long to fall asleep.

The other day, Wanda said she didn't remember anything. And you didn't press her, believing that when she was ready, she would talk to you about it.

//-//

And then you decided to just have lunch with your father before you went back to college, and while you were eating, you thought about how you told him.

"You were thirteen, and you two were sitting watching television, each in an armchair. It was between one score and another. And your heart was beating so loudly, it seemed impossible that he wouldn't notice.

- I like girls. - You suddenly confessed. Your father blinked in surprise, looking at you quickly, before turning his gaze back to the television.

You swallowed hard.

- I don't know what to say. - He says. - It makes no difference to me.

You nodded frantically, holding back your tears as you stared at the television. And then your father sighed, straightening himself in his chair and turning off the television.

- Come here, darling. - He asked, and you stood up robotically, walking over to him while your gaze was on the floor. - I'm sorry, I'm not good with these things. - he says. - But don't worry, okay? I love you, kid. No matter what, i love you. - And then he lifts his hand and places a finger on her chin, lifting it up gently. - Head up like I taught you, okay? Never let anyone tell you what you can and can't be.

You let your tears flow when you hug him. And you watch the soccer in the same armchair, cuddled in the blankets."

You blink slightly, awakening from the memory. You exchange a smile with your father before going back to eating.

//-//

In the second year, you have your first fight with Wanda since you became friends.

It's stupid, really. You were supposed to meet earlier, and you got the schedules mixed up, and then she got angry and you ran out of patience. Pretty soon you're yelling and accusing, and then she's storming out of your room with a slam on the door.

It is the same day that you see Wanda kissing a girl for the first time too.

Because Tony loves parties, and he invites you over, and there's lots of drinking. And you know you should talk to Wanda about the discussion earlier, but then she is avoiding you and you think you'd better start drinking.

The hours go by, and you should leave because it's a school day tomorrow. But you want to get some air, after having spent the whole party pretending to listen to your friends while your gaze searches for Wanda. And so you go to the roof, shortly after you have lost sight of her, and try to sober up a little with a bottle of water.

You choke as you look around, seeing Wanda being pressed against the wall by a girl you don't recognize.

But they don't see you, and you turn your feet in the opposite direction. And when you are outside, there is a message from Trish on your cell phone saying that she misses you, and you decide to say that you miss her too.

//-//

When your friends ask Wanda about the mysterious girl, she laughs and says it was just a party, that people do that sort of thing. And nobody pressures her. And then Vision is calling her again, and you're too busy to listen because you're texting with Trish.

In February, Trish comes to see you in your dorm. You talk a lot, and it's nice and safe. And you ignore the feeling that it is not right. And then Nat opens the door, and gives you a mischievous smile, before taking her bag and leaving again.

And then other dates happen after that, and the more time you spend with Trish, the less you spend with Wanda. And that's okay, because you're adults now, and these things happen. And now Trish kisses you as often as Wanda goes on dates with Vision. And then you want to ignore the nervousness in your stomach when you're kissing while there's a sock on the doorknob.

- I can't do this. - You confess breathlessly with swollen lips.

Trish doesn't mind. She is thoughtful and patient, and she tells you that everything is fine. And the dates continue for a few weeks, until you tell her that you are not in love with her. She hugs you, and says you never seemed to.

But when you walk back to your dorm, Vision has come to see Wanda. And she smiles, and kisses him. And you want to throw up, but you nod politely as you walk past them and throw yourself on your bed in your dorm.

- What's the matter with you? - Natasha asks the next moment. She is sitting at her desk, probably doing some homework.

- I broke up with Trish. - You say this as if it were the real reason. Nat lets out a grumble of understanding.

- Why don't you try hanging out with Wanda for a while?

You close your eyes and bury your face in your pillow at the mention of her name. But then you feel irritated, and are sitting up in bed.

- Vision is here. - You comment with irony, and Nat giggles.

- Wow, this is bad. - She says, writing something in her notebook. - It must be hard to share a girlfriend.

Her teasing bothers you. Or maybe it is something else.

- We're not girlfriends. - Nat giggles, and you let out an impatient sigh. - I'm not laughing. What are you trying to imply?

Nat turns her head toward you, her eyes gleaming in defiance.

- Insinuating? I am presenting facts. - she says with a slight irony. - What would you call "friends" who act like you and Wanda? I know them as a couple.

- That's ridiculous. - You retort. - We act like everyone else.

- Excuse me, when was the last time you had a nightmare and crawled into my bed in the middle of the night? - She mocks. - Or got all upset when I went out with a boy? Oh, I have an amazing one. When you became my emergency contact for everything?

You blink in surprise. Nat doesn't look angry, just impatient. You don't like the feeling in your stomach.

- Just because you are not as good of a friend as Wanda, doesn't mean that we are dating. - You accuse grumpily, and regret it at the same second. So Nat is looking at you with disbelief and irritation, and then she leaves the room.

You wish you could disappear, but you force yourself to get up, hoping to catch up with her in time. But when you leave the dormitory, you don't see her anywhere.

You resist the urge to punch something.

It is already evening, and Nat has not returned to the dormitory yet, and you are anxious and impatient as you wait in your room, after having spent the afternoon trying to distract yourself with some pending lessons. And then you go outside again, and try to call. After falling into the mailbox a few times, you decide to leave a message, while leaning on the balcony bench at the entrance to the dormitory.

- Hey, Nat. It's me. - You say on the phone. - I'm sorry for saying that you are not a good friend. That is absolutely untrue. You are loyal, and fun. And you put up with my shit even when I'm being a brat. I'm sorry that I acted without thinking, I guess I didn't want to see the truth. No one has ever confronted me about Wanda like that. - You confess, and take a deep breath. - Anyway, I hope you don't hate me forever, it would be hard to get along in the dorm. - You joke last. - Please call me when you can.

You put the cell phone back in your pocket, running your hand through your hair. And then there is a female voice that you know well.

- Are you all right? - Wanda asks walking towards him. She was coming from the dormitory entrance; she had probably just said goodbye to Sight.

- Everything is fine. - You reply with irony. - I'm just making sure Nat knows she' s a good friend.

Wanda blinks in confusion, and then assumes an ironic posture.

- Wow, I would like to hear that I am a good friend. - She jokes, and you bite your lip, feeling your irritation rise.

- This whole fight only happened because of you, so I find it difficult. - You retort aggressively, and Wanda frowns in surprise.

- What's the matter with you?

- You, Wanda. - You retort, straightening your posture. - I'm tired of it all.

Wanda takes a step back, confused, and you feel your body boil with anger.

- I don't know what you are talking about.

- I'm talking about us. - You clarify impatiently. Wanda blinks in confusion, crossing her arms and lifting her chin.

- There is no us. - She retorts. - I'm with Vision...

You laugh wryly and approach her.

- I'm tired of this game where we pretend you're not in love with me. - You say seriously. - It's exhausting not loving you the way I want to.

Wanda shakes her head in denial, her eyes filled with tears as she takes a step back.

- I don't...

- Wanda.

- No. - she says seriously. - Just because you're gay doesn't mean that all girls are.

She seems to regret her own words as soon as she speaks them, because she takes a step toward you, but you let out a dry laugh, before walking away. Maybe Wanda has called you, but you don't look back.

//-//

You are on the verge of emotional misery, but you feel better when Nat brings you some hot chocolate. She forgave you for the fight, and apologized for pushing you, but explained that she couldn't stand to see you grumpy anymore whenever Wanda answered the phone and it was Vision calling. And then you told her about your conversation with Wanda, and she hugged you, and said she hoped things would work out.

You weren't talking to Wanda for the time being. It was strange, and it felt like a piece of your life was missing, but you tried to fill it in with homework and television series.

When the mid-year exams came around, you wished you had never come to college in the first place. It seemed like you were going to explode with anxiety and stress at any moment.

And then the vacations came, and you went back home, this time you took the train.

Pietro visited you the day you arrived. You went out for hamburgers, and after you talked about people from college, he mentioned Wanda.

- She misses you, you know?

You were sitting in the empty stands of your old high school, and you leaned your arms on the metal and your chin on top of them, looking at the field. Pietro was with one of his legs crossed in his lap, looking at you.

- I miss her too. - You confessed. - But we both said stupid things, and there's no going back from that.

Pietro took a bite of his burger before speaking again.

- I just think it's weird to go out with you without her. - He remarks, and you laugh softly.

- Hey, we are friends too.

- Of course we are. - he says. - But you were like, well, I don't know, soul mates maybe.

You feel your heart break, but force a smile.

- You're too corny, Pietro.

He laughs and goes back to eating. And then he lets out a low exclamation, as if to tell you something.

- I guess you two must have talked about it already, and all that. - he says. - But Wanda told our parents that she is pansexual.

You raise your head quickly and end up hitting the top iron of the railing, and Pietro looks worried, but you just ignore his look, and ask:

- What did you say?

He looks surprised as you massage the spot where you hit your head. But then he shrugs his shoulders.

- She told us during Dad's birthday. Just before the weeks of exams when she came here. - He says. - It was fine, Dad was surprised and Mom didn't really know what to say, but they took it very well.

- And you?

Pietro laughed.

- I bought her a flag the next day.

You laugh, pushing Pietro lightly by the shoulder.

- Wow, that's good to know. - You say. - She must have been happy.

- Yeah, well. I think she would have liked to have you there, though. - Pietro says and you look away, knowing that he is right. - I always thought you would be the first person she would tell.

You swallow dryly, remembering that Thanksgiving night. But then Pietro's cell phone rings, and he says he has to go, so you are driving home mumbling songs into the radio in Pietro's car.

//-//

It's good to go back to college, because you see your friends. But it also means that you see Wanda in the dormitory hallways, and occasionally in the college building.

- You are staring again. - Natasha warned you when you were in the library, and you blinked in confusion, looking away from Wanda, across the room.

- I wasn't. - You grumbled, looking at your book. Nat laughed.

- Jesus, why don't you two just talk to each other?

- She has already said what she has to say. - You retorted with a shrug. Nat sighed.

- What about you? - She asks and you frown in confusion. - Have you said everything you wanted to say?

You look away again, thinking. No. You haven't said half of what you wanted to say. Honestly, you couldn't even tell Wanda that you were proud of her for coming out. But you pushed those thoughts away for the moment.

You went back to studying for a few minutes, trying to distract your thoughts. But then Nat received a message and let out an excited exclamation.

- Party on Saturday. - She announced, looking at her cell phone. - I'll confirm our presence.

You let out a grumble, and she looked at you.

- Don't even start with that. - She said. - You need to get out of that room, for God's sake.

You laughed lightly, laying your head against the books. Nat massaged your hair with one hand while she sent Steve an audio message saying that you were behaving like a crybaby, but that you were going to the party.

//-//

The party was bubbling with noise and people. Nat stood next to you for the first five minutes, and then you laughed when she let out an exclamation when she saw older foreign students who were very handsome, and you gave her a little push to go talk to them.

Your gaze finds Wanda in the room almost within the next minute. Looking fucking gorgeous. And she looked back, so you found it hard to breathe in there, and looked for the exit.

It was amazing how you always ended up on the rooftops in this place.

You lean your arms on the balcony, enjoying the cool evening breeze. And then you feel a glance behind your back, and you don't have to turn to know who it is.

The next instant Wanda is beside you, mimicking your position.

- Hi. - She greets you by looking forward as you do.

- Hi. - You answer softly. - You look beautiful.

You watch her smile slightly from the corner of your eye.

- How are you? - she asks. And you bite the inside of your cheek.

You adjust your posture and turn to her.

- I need to say a few things to you. - You say, and she looks surprised by the sudden change, but also turns and looks at you. You take a deep breath to build up courage. - I'm sorry I pushed you that day. I shouldn't have done that. - You say and Wanda looks ready to say something, but you add quickly, believing that if you don't say it all, you won't say it anymore. - Also, I visited Pietro during the vacations, and he told me that you told your parents that you were pansexual. And I'm proud of you for that, and I'm sorry I wasn't there with you.

Wanda looks at you wide-eyed, and you let out a sigh.

- Wow, you said a lot of things. - She then declares with a slight frown, and you let out a short laugh. - But I need to apologize too. I was mean to you. And I'm sorry for that. - She smiles next, looking down at the floor. - But what about all those things you said about ... us. Are you sorry about that too?

You swallow dryly, feeling your heart race. And Wanda looks at you with sparkling eyes.

-No. - You tell her. - I meant every word.

Wanda's cheeks flush as she smiles, but then there is a loud noise and you both look over to see Natasha snuggled up to a boy entering the roof area. She steps aside to close the door, and then she notices you both, giving you a mischievous smile as she pulls the boy by his shirt into the corner of the roof. You and Wanda laugh at the scene, but the moment from before is broken. Especially since you can hear Natasha kissing a few feet away.

- So... friends? - Wanda asks, holding out her hand to you after you look at her again. You shake her hand, smiling.

- Friends.

//-//

Things are going great. You are doing well in the tests, you are having healthy habits and you are about to combust every time you are with Wanda, maybe the last part is not so good.

You have resumed your friendship in the same way as before. And when you told Natasha about this she laughed for fifteen minutes.

And then you eventually found out that Vision was no longer in Wanda's life. Pietro called you and mentioned this superficially, as if it wasn't something that completely changed your dynamic. Maybe you were overthinking it.

The relevant thing was that there was a tension in your relationship that you were not used to having. Or maybe it had always been there, and you just ignored it better.

Like now, studying in the library, sitting side by side, with your legs touching under the table. You have spent the last twenty minutes repeating to yourself not to think about it so much instead of actually studying.

- How did you do exercise number thirteen? - Wanda asked suddenly. You almost choked with fright, but you masked it by turning the pages of the book. You hadn't even done any exercises. But then Wanda came closer, looking at your notebook, and you resisted the urge to close your eyes as the smell of her shampoo invaded your senses. - Are you all right?

You blinked in surprise when Wanda looked at you. She had turned her head toward you, and you could see her eyelashes clearly.

- Huh? - you mumbled, feeling hyperaware of the proximity. Wanda frowned, bringing her hand to your cheek.

- You're warm. Are you getting sick?

You were trying to disguise that you were trembling at her touch, and then Natasha arrived, throwing the books on the table and looking at you both with curiosity over your position. But Wanda turned away with a smile, and greeted Nat, while you tried to normalize your heartbeat.

The three of you went back to studying together, it was easier to concentrate now that you had Nat's judgmental gaze on you, waiting for a slip to make a comment that would embarrass you.

//-//

You have a free period in the late afternoon, and go back to your dorm. Nat is lying on the bed with a book on her lap.

- God, don't you seniors ever study? - You sneer as you enter, and she laughs.

- Pick the right classes and you'll have as much free time as I do. - She replies without taking her eyes off the paper. You flop down on your bed, let out a sigh. - What's wrong?

- I didn't say anything. - You retort with humor. Nat closes the book and crosses her legs, looking at you.

- It's your energy. - She says, and you laugh with confusion. - You have a charged energy, my friend. What's going on?

- I really don't know what you are talking about. - You say with a slight laugh and turn over on the bed to rest your head on her arm and look at her.

Nat is thoughtful for a few seconds, and then stands up in the direction of the room, picking up her cell phone. She reads something on her screen for a while, while you stare at your sheet, and then she lets out an exclamation.

- Aha, here it is! - She says without taking her eyes off the device, but turning her body toward you. - The sexual aura is detected through...

- Oh my god. - You interrupt by throwing a pillow at her, and she just laughs and deflects, while putting the phone down. You bury your face in the bed, feeling it warm.

- Girl, you are emanating a sexual lust! - Nat exclaims, throwing the pillow back at you. - You need to get laid!

- Please shut up! - You ask, your voice muffled against the bed sheet. Nat laughs as she walks around the room.

And then there is a knock on the door, and someone enters. You pull your face away from the sheet to see Wanda.

- Wow, it's fate. - Nat sneers and you move quickly on the bed to attack her, but she laughs and deflects your hands, running away. She shouts something like "don't forget the sock" before slamming the door on her way out.

- What was that? - Wanda asks with a giggle as you throw yourself back onto the bed, your face reddening.

- Nat is crazy, don't listen to her. - You grumble and then adjust your position to sit up in bed. - I didn't know you were free now.

Wanda smiles, dropping her backpack on the floor.

- The teacher let us off early. - She says as she walks over to you, sitting down across from you on the end of the bed. - I thought about watching a movie.

You let out an exclamation of agreement, moving on the bed to reach for your notebook. Wanda lies down beside you.

And things go well for about forty minutes. You think it's the choice of film that's to blame. If you had chosen one of the sitcoms that Wanda likes, you would be laughing right now. But you decided to watch Carol's recommendation given a few weeks ago. And so now you watched in silence a particularly visual lesbian sex scene.

You weren't sure whether your heart was pounding in shame or excitement, but judging by the rising heat at the tip of your belly and in your cheeks, it was easy to guess.

You want to think of something to say that might lighten the mood, but Wanda moves again, as if interested.

- Wow, did you ever do that? - she asks, pointing briefly at the movement on the screen. You swallow dryly.

- No. - You say in a slightly husky voice. - I've never...

And then Wanda looks at you in surprise.

- I thought you and Trish...

You let out a clumsy laugh.

- Yeah, almost. - you say. - But I told her I couldn't.

- Why not?

You look away from her.

- You know why.

Wanda lets out a sigh, and then she turns to the notebook, closing the equipment and placing it on the other end of the bed. You look at her confused, wondering if she was angry, but your brain short-circuits as she turns to you and sits on your lap.

- Oh, okay. - You sigh shyly as Wanda relaxes her weight on top of you. She smiles as she puts her hands on your shoulders.

- What do you want to do? - she asks softly, looking into your eyes intensely. You feel your heart beating against your ears.

- What do you mean? - you ask with a trembling voice.

- What do you want to do to me? - She asks with a slight blush on her cheeks, bringing their faces together until their foreheads are resting against each other. - Do you want to kiss me?

- Fuck. - You sigh. - Yes, a lot.

And then Wanda breaks the distance between your mouths, gasping against your lips. You feel your whole body electrify, and move your hands up to her waist. And then she pulls away again.

- Was that good? - she asks breathlessly. You are trembling as you pull her back, this time kissing her with your tongue. And this time she doesn't interrupt.

When you part your mouths again, your bodies are sweaty and tired. And she blushes when you smile at her, burying her face in your collarbone. You cover yourselves with the blanket, and close your eyes.

Many hours later, when you wake up for a snack and meet Nat in the cafeteria, she tells you that your aura is clear as she gives you a suggestive look.

You are dreaming about Wanda. But that's okay, because she is curled up against you, and you have rings on your fingers, and shared key chains.

#wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wandaxyou #wandaxreader #marvel imagines #college au

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geminigirl0298 · 3 years ago

Text

The Course Of True Love

Relationship: Loki Odinson x Original Female Character

Summary: Loki Odinson never expected to see his mother hurrying down a hall with a smart-mouthed, soot-covered figure who was supposedly the princess of Vanaheim. He never expected her to stay more than a week, much less an entire century, and he surely did not expect their initial animosity to morph into the fluttering, tickling feeling he got in his stomach every time she was near.

Word Count: 4.5 k

A/N: These three chapters have been really nice, so by rights we are shaking things up next chapter. Comment to get added to tag list!

Warnings: Smut later on (will be marked), 18+, loss of virginity, fingering (female receiving), oral (female receiving), unprotected sex, cursing, inappropriate language

Previous Chapter Masterlist

CHAPTER 3

“And just what exactly was the goal behind your little trick?”

Loki exhaled long and hard. It was maddening to live amongst people whose sense of humor was inferior to his own. His entire life, they had never understood that his tricks were simply for his own amusement, or in the case of the most recent event, to get him out of doing something he did not want to do.

“It was not a trick, Father. I was overcome with fatigue from the day, so I allowed a projection to take my place.” Loki refrained from adding that it would have worked if Thor had not decided to swing that risible hammer so close to his illusion that it went straight through his head. (He had heard the story from his mother as she walked with him from the throne room).

Odin leaned forward, disbelief abound in his eye. “Funny. You do not look fatigued now.”

“I’m very good at masking it.” Behind his father, Frigga’s lips twitched. She shook her head from side to side, as if to tell him not to push his luck, and he obliged. “However, I understand now that it should not have been done. No more tricks during public celebrations. You have my word.” Odin hmphed.

“I would prefer there be no tricks at all. Knowing you, I suppose that’s asking too much. If you were a child, I’d send you straight to your chambers and disallow you from partaking in the merriment.” Loki resisted the urge to roll his eyes. His father was acting as though he had committed a crime. All he had really done was give the citizens a good fright, and some of the weaker ones a mild syncope. Even Thor, last seen guzzling a pint of ale, had forgotten the incident already.

“That’s enough.” Ah. Mother dearest to the rescue.

Frigga stepped down from beside Odin, a gentle hand on his shoulder. “He understands, and he meant no harm. More importantly he caused no harm, unlike our forces in Muspelheim that I believe are getting a bit too rough with the locals. Perhaps you should turn your attentions to getting them to operate with a lighter touch?”

For just a moment, Loki held his breath. His mother was a fierce woman; kind and wise the same. She would never disrespect her husband, the king, yet she was always finding ways to intervene in his disagreements with Loki and bring them to a halt. This command disguised as a suggestion was just one of the latest ways.

“Fine.” His father was not pleased. Nevertheless, with Loki toeing the submissive and his mother playing peacemaker, there was no need to keep the conversation going. So, he waved his hand to dismiss them. “Go. Have fun. Try not to cause any more trouble for the night.”

Loki nodded his head, making to leave with haste. He felt as though his time had been wasted, time taken away from a celebration with ale, dancing, and Sigrid. Sigrid, whom he had not seen in a month and had loads of stories to tell. The only reason he had not told them through letters was because he wanted to tell her face to face, to see her eyes light up and hear her laughter as he wove the tales to life with his tongue.

“Son.” Loki turned to see his mother hurrying after him. He slowed his long strides to allow her to catch up. When she did, she slid her hand around the arm he had offered to her. “I should hope you’re not scurrying away from me.” He cracked a smile.

“Of course not. You’re thinking of the other parental unit.” If his mother heard the bitterness in his voice, she did not react. “I suppose you’ve come to tell me not to take his disapproval to heart?”

Frigga hummed. “On the contrary. I’m here to tell you that I’m proud of you.” She brought them to a stop in the middle of the hallway. Raucous laughter erupted from down the hall, drawing both their attention. He turned just in time to see Fandral and Thor leading Sigrid away from the ballroom, the latter keeping a tight hold of the girl’s elbow. Their faces were red with delight, stirring a sense of longing in Loki’s chest to go be with his friend-specifically one. “I will let you go to your Sigrid in a moment-”

“She’s not my Sigrid.” His response was automatic, a repetition at this point seeing as it was the umpteenth time someone had made an implicit reference to his friendship with the princess.

His mother stared into his eyes, something resembling amusement in her own. She wanted to comment, he knew, and would have if the side of his mouth was not set so firm. “One of my ladies has a friend in Alfheim. A lady herself in the Queen’s service. Apparently, she was quite impressed with the way you handled the negotiations. Your father has decided that you’ll be spearheading them henceforth that he cannot attend himself. He’s appointing you as an ambassador.”

Loki blinked, searching his mother’s face for any sigh of a joke. “I…”.

“Have I rendered you speechless?” The smirk on her face was evident. People had often said it was the only feature he and his mother shared. “You. My son that loves talking more than anything?”

“Why did he not say any of that just now?” Loki threw his hands up. “Instead of reprimanding me for such a silly little thing—which was not even intended to be a trick by the way. I just had somewhere to be.” That same knowing smirk took over his mother’s countenance again.

“Yes, well. You know how your father is. He’s never been good with affirmations.” Here, she placed a hand under his chin. “Luckily I am, and I am so proud of you.”

“Thank you.” Loki did not push her away when she tip-toed to place a kiss on his cheek.

“And I also wanted to let you know that your father approved your request to take Sigrid to the festival this year.”

“Are you serious? He agreed?”

The thrill of Loki’s response caused his mother to issue a warning. “There are conditions, of course, one being that you or Thor must be with her at all times. Your father was serious about that.”

“Yes, yes of course.” He brushed off her concerns with a wave of his hand, then leaned down to place a kiss on her cheek. “At all times. Thank you, mother. I must go find Sigrid now.”

“Yes,” she agreed, amusement alight in her eyes again. “You must.”

ooOOoo

It was not hard to find his way to his brother. After bidding his mother a goodnight, Loki took off in the direction he had seen him earlier. A little bit of walking later, he heard the familiar, rumbling voice.

“—and when I swung my hammer, he cowered in fear! Dropped to the ground like a baby bird attempting to fly for the first time—” Thor’s loud boasting drew him to a room they all frequented. It was private; reserved for when they returned from battle or just wanted to be away from the crowds.

Volstagg sat closest to the door, a platter of assorted meats in his hand. His voracious devouring made Loki a bit queasy. His eyes skipped over the robust warrior and sought out the other inhabitants of the room. There was Fandral reclining on the divan, arms folded behind his head. Sif was on the floor at his feet. She was laughing at Thor as he recanted his story, waving his arms around in glee. Sigrid sat by herself on a smaller couch, legs folded under her. There was a goblet of wine in her hand, the other covering her mouth as she giggled at Thor’s antics.

“Brother!” Thor exclaimed, catching sight of him. “Come! Help me tell the story of how I vanquished that rude elf!”

Loki bypassed the free duplicate divan to squeeze in next to Sigrid. The chair had no arms, just a flat square with a cushioned back. The two of them could have fit on it with ease as children. Now, both grown up, Loki had to snake an arm around her waist to prevent either of them from falling off.

“The elf was not being rude,” he reminded his brother. Sigrid leaned into him, allowing him a whiff of her curly hair. The scent of wild berries pleased his nostrils. He caught some of her thick locks between two fingers, twirling the end as he continued speaking. “He was just asking if he could stow your hammer away.”

“The hammer stays with me at all times!” A hint of betrayal entered Thor’s voice, as though he could not believe his brother was defending the elf. Spurred on, Loki decided to take it a bit further.

“And how was he supposed to know? Your attachment to that thing is unhealthy. Maybe you could use some time away.” At this, Sigrid lightly elbowed him in the ribs. Even from this angle Loki could see a hint of a smirk on her lips.

Loud clangs echoed through the hallway, the unmistakable sound of a dense object crashing into—or through—walls and doors. Screams and gasps were heard from the gathered crowd, followed by the telltale whoosh of Mjolnir as it flew through the room and found itself in the hand of the blond demigod.

He tilted the hammer towards Loki, eyes filled with ferocity. “No one is ever taking this hammer away from me.”

“Like I said. Unhealthy.”

“Alright.” Sigrid’s voice cut through the dawning quarrel. “Here,” she handed Loki her goblet, half filled with a dark red wine. “Put something else besides your foot in your mouth. Thor, nobody is taking Mjolnir from you. Loki is teasing.”

“He teases a lot,” Thor sulked, dropping to a seat near Sif. “It’s mean.”

“He iss mean,” Sif agreed, words slurred. Loki stifled a snort. The maiden could handle her spirits well, and it was rare that they ever got the best of her. Tonight seemed to be an exception. “Did you know he cut my hair?”

“He stabbed me as a child once,” Thor spoke up. “We were eight. Pretended to be a snake!”

“No!” Sif’s gasp was so comical that Loki could not contain his laughter. He let out a chuckle that drew annoyed looks from both parties. Sif’s was downright furious. It sort of made him want to cut her hair again, just to see how she would react.

“Apologize,” Sigrid whispered under her breath.

“For what?” He wanted to know. “Her hair? She already beat me up.” Not that he cared much. He had sustained much worse injuries in battle. The pain she instilled was nothing.

“Perhapsss I ssshould do it again.” The maiden tried to rise to her feet, wobbling with the movement. She would have fallen over had Fandral not grabbed ahold of her.

“I think that’s enough mead for you.” He plucked the flask from her hand and guided her back to the floor. Thor, well on his way to fullness, patted her head with one large hand.

“Fandral, I do think that’s the first time I’ve seen you stop someone from drinking. Is it possible you’ve turned over a leaf in my time away?” Loki asked him, taking a sip from the goblet. Sigrid’s usual lip stain had left a mark on the rim. The taste of vanilla blossomed on his tongue before it was washed away by the wine. He had often wondered what flavour the gloss had carried and found the subtle scent suited her.

“Not a new leaf, but the loss of a maiden. Beautiful little thing she was.” Fandral let out a wistful sigh, a faraway look in his eye. “A shame she had to go back to her husband.” Loki choked on the wine.

“I’m sure there’s another woman right around the corner,” Sigrid sympathized. Her hand was alternating between rubbing Loki’s back and patting it as he coughed out the remaining liquid. “Might I suggest going after one that is not already involved? You’re lucky this one’s husband remained unaware. Do you remember what happened the last time?”

“Yes,” Fandral gave a dramatic nod. “Thank you, Loki, for fixing my nose with your magic. I was afraid that my face would be forever marred.”

“So afraid that you went after another married woman?” Loki tutted. “One would say that’s not smart.”

Instead of replying, Fandral rose from his seat as though remembering something important. “You know, there wasa fair little thing that arrived a few days ago. She gave me the eye on the way here. I should go find her and keep her entertained.”

“Make sure she’s not married,” Sigrid called as he left the room. He passed Volstagg on his way out, now sleeping with a full belly. The round man’s mouth was open with snores. A look to his left showed Loki that Thor and Sif were speaking in low tones, her flask back in her hand. She must have stolen it back when Fandral was leaving.

“How bad was it?” Sigrid’s voice was soft near his ear. He gave her a quizzical look, to which she elaborated, “The tongue lashing from your father.”

“The usual. ‘Loki, you play too many tricks. Loki, you need to stop. Loki, I should send you to your chambers’.” He did his best to mimic his father’s deep tones, even closing one eye and puffing out his chest.

“Your room?” Sigrid giggled. “He said that?”

“Yes,” Loki nodded, “but he also appointed me as an ambassador. I’ll be handling the negotiations from now on as he sees fit.”

Sigrid moved into a kneeling position on the couch. “Really?” Her grin was so infectious it drew one from him as well. “Loki that’s great!” Both her hands came to rest on either of his shoulders. “This is exciting! Think of how much more travels you’ll get to embark on! I’m actually a bit jealous.”

“I can take you with me,” he offered. “That is, if you wanted.”

“I actually wanted to talk to you about that. Come.” They both stood, bidding goodbyes to deaf ears as they traipsed out of the room. Sigrid slid both her tiny hands around his bicep, settling into a slow pace as she steered them towards the bedrooms. “I received a letter from papa today. There’s a bit more to read, but he’s hopeful that I shall be able to go home soon.”

Loki’s steps faltered. “G-go home? For good?” From the day Sigrid had arrived on Asgard her days had been numbered. Loki had first thought she would only stay a few months— maybe a year—and then those years stretched into decades and decades into centuries until he had all but forgotten that her stay here was conditional.

Their friendship had started off rocky, with him not knowing how to handle the compelling girl who was sad all the time and would snap right back at him when he gave a sarcastic remark. She would meet him word for word, insult for insult, and soon this animosity turned to curiosity. He felt drawn to the girl who irritated him so, yet she had her finer moments. She did not laugh at Loki when he got knocked down during training because the other boys were bigger than him, nor did she disparage his knack for seidr. She only retaliated when the need arose. So one day Loki decided to stop antagonizing her.

Things became better after that. Sigrid was as astute as he, also preferring books to physical training. Frigga would often read to them and tell them stories whilst Thor would be out playing with the others. She even tried to teach the girl some seidr, but the little Vanir upbringing she had would only allow her to watch. That was when Loki asked his mother to teach him little tricks to surprised her with, like making fireworks from his palm or conjuring little flowers for her to put in her hair.

Loki could not pinpoint exactly when she had become his closet friend. He just knew his life could be split into two phases: before Sigrid, and after Sigrid. In truth he was partial to the after, so the possibility of Sigrid leaving filled him with an intense dread. The hundreds of years they had spent together on Asgard suddenly seemed too little; a blip on his lifetime, and he wondered how long he would have before there were no more.

“Not at all,” Sigrid squeezed his arm. “Just for a little while.”

“Oh.” He brought his hand to rest on hers where they lay on the crook of his elbow. Hearing her confirm that it was not a permanent return drew some of the panic out of him. There was still time to be had with her. She was going to be in his life for a while to come. “Okay. That’s wonderful.”

“Yes. Papa says they’ve managed to find a lot of the traitors. I think he’s hoping to slowly ingratiate me back into Vanaheim. It’ll take some time, and it may be rocky at first, but we have to start somewhere.” She tugged on his sleeve with a joshing grin. “Seems I’ll still be in your hair for quite some time. How will you ever mange?”

“Darling, I can manage anything as long as you’re by my side.” He allowed a few beats to pass before continuing. “Thor has his hammer, and I have you. My shield.”

“Ugh!” She reached up to twist his ear. He sprang away before she could. “You’re never going to let that go, are you?” He knew she was referring to that time when they were taking the language of the Dark Elves as an elective. The tutor had asked her to say a sentence in Shiväisith, to which she had given a confident reply. She had intended to say, ‘My name is Sigrid and I like to eat sweets,’ but what came out was, ‘My name is Sigrid and I am a shield’. Loki had collapsed to the floor in guffaws. Once he had caught his breath, he proceeded to remind her of it every waking moment.

“You are mean,” she huffed. They had reached her room now, the golden edges of her door glinting in the dim light. Sigrid moved towards her door, likely intending to shut it in his face. Instead, he grabbed ahold of her hand as she passed him. “Loki!” He spun her around in an effortless twirl, positioning her right in front of him.

“I’m sorry.” Stubbornness was abound in the set of her chin. Her arms folded together across her chest, resembling an angry kitten with her tiny stature and glare. He placed a finger under her chin to lift her eyes to his, warm chocolate meeting hues of the sea. “Forgive me?”

She pouted. “No.”

“That’s a shame.” His voice was nonchalant. “I had a surprise for you but seeing as you’re not willing to forgive me…”. Loki raised his palm to face level, splaying his fingers like his mother had taught him. Light emanated from the middle of his hand. Constellations—mini ones—floated up a few centimeters from the surface of his skin. They danced around in the air as Sigrid watched, a slow grin gracing her face as understanding dawned.

“The star gazing festival?” she squealed. “Are you serious?” Her hands came up in fists to shoulder level, and she began bouncing on the balls of her feet. It was hard to believe that she had been upset with him just a few moments ago.

“Yes,” he tapped the tip of her nose. “I think it’s safe for you to go this year. We’ll have to be guarded of course, and there are conditions--”

“Loki, thank you!” She threw her arms around his neck, and he lifted her off the floor into a snug hug. He was not fond of hugs, and nary a person beside his mother or brother ever bestowed them on him, but he never minded Sigrid’s. Especially when she kissed his cheek with such tender care before pulling away. “I’ve always wanted to go!”

“I know.” He pressed the pads of a few fingers to the place where her lips had just been. For some reason, it always remained quite warm even after her lips were gone. “Are you excited?”

“Very much so!” She threw open her doors and he followed without a second though. He had spent many a night in her room as a child, be it sleeping, reading or staying up all night talking. Those nights were few and far between since they were now older.

Her room had not changed much over the years, save for some more age-appropriate décor. The sheets were still embroidered with flowers and the bed held more pillows than was necessary. A sheer curtain fell from around her four-poster bed, large enough to hold four grown people. It was a stark difference to his own, which was bathed in shades of green and gold. Loki was particular to colors and items that stood out, because he himself stuck out as the black sheep of the family. Sigrid, on the other hand, liked to blend in. She much preferred the lighter peaches and pastels of her room and the clothes she wore.

“Sit,” she patted the bed beside her, upon which she sat in the middle. A long sheet of parchment hung from her fingertips. “Letter.” Loki made himself comfortable on the bed, using one of her pillows to cushion her back against his leg. “Papa writes the usual. He misses me, sends his love, etcetera, etcetera.” She waved her hand in the air in dismissal. “Ah! Here we go. He wants to hold a celebration for my birthday at home. The idea has been thrown out to his advisors and they think it’s doable.”

Loki leaned forward. “Your birthday is in just a few weeks. Things must be going well for him to be suggesting such a near date.”

“They must be, indeed.” Sigrid rotated the upper half of her body to face him. “You’re coming with me, right? Your new duties won’t get in the way of this?”

“You want me to come with you?” Loki was taken aback. He assumed Sigrid’s visit would be the first in a series of events that would spell the end of their close friendship. It never occurred to him that she would want him by her side.

“Of course I do, silly. We spend all our birthdays together. Why wouldn’t I want you there for this one?” She did not wait for an answer before returning her attentions to the letter. “More boring stuff about timetables and scouting parties and… oh.” Sigrid grew quiet. She hunched over the letter, blocking it from Loki’s view, and read the rest in her head.

“Sig? What’s the matter?” He noticed her change in bearing at once. “Did something happen?”

“Not exactly.” She brought the letter close to her face as though she was unsure about the words, then folded it in half altogether. “My father just mentioned someone, and I’ve not thought about him in a long time, that’s all.”

The word ‘him’ had Loki’s ears pricking up. “Whom?”

“Just an old friend from home.” She would have come across as nonchalant had her fingers not been drumming her mattress with such a nervous intensity. “His name is Leif. His father and papa grew up together so naturally, we became friends.”

Loki pursed his lips. Her attempt at remaining calm was off putting, especially when he could see her pulse beating at the base of her neck. “I don’t recall you ever mentioning a Leif.” Sigrid shrugged.

“It wasn’t important. I didn’t have many friends back at home and he was one of the only ones who never minded consorting with a half-breed.”

“You are not a half-breed,” he told her. He hated that anyone had ever thrown such words behind the sweetest soul he knew. “You are a princess, and someday you will be Queen and I’ll be subject to watch you leave this life for another. If luck favours me, your husband might even let me visit you.”

The words were intended as a joke, yet they twisted his stomach to the point of nausea. Loki never wanted Sigrid to leave. He wanted to continue being her favourite person, and he was sure a husband would throw a wrench in that.

“Loki, I would never marry a man who did not like you.” Sigrid stretched her arms high above her head, leaning back into him. Her head found his shoulder and cuddled against it. “Would you stay tonight with me? I’ve missed you so, and we’ve not had a sleepover in so long.”

Loki hesitated. They had met when they both were on the cusp of becoming young men and women, so their sleepovers were a bit clandestine to say the least. Odin had put a stop to it once he found out, but the two of them managed to find ways to sneak into each other’s rooms during hard nights. Now, older and with centuries of wisdom at hand, Loki understood why his father was so against it. “I should not.”

“I knew you were going to say that.” Sigrid yawned into her hand before settling her head on a pillow. Her eyes drifted close as she addressed him. “Ever the gentleman, this one.”

“Only when the situation calls for it.” Loki reached out to move the hair away from her face, knowing she hated waking up with the strands stuck to her cheek. Her lashes fluttered as his fingertips brushed the skin. “Ticklish?”

“Something like that,” was her mumbled reply. “At least stay until I fall asleep?”

“That I can do.” Loki made himself comfortable on her bed, fingers now stroking her hair in the way he knew she liked. From this angle he could see the contours of her face, and he let his fingers trace them with care. Once round and soft, her face had lost all its fat to reveal high cheekbones and a slender jaw. They paired well with the long lashes that framed her doe eyes, although those eyes no longer carried the naivety of the soot-covered young girl he had met that one fateful night.

“Sigrid?” Her breathing had long slowed, chest rising and falling in a rhythmic manner. “Sig?” Besides an indiscernible noise, Loki received no other response to his stimulus. He soundlessly got out of her bed and tucked the covers in so she would not get cold. The girl insisted on sleeping with her balcony doors cracked no matter how many times Loki told her to shut them at night.

“Goodnight, princess.” He placed a kiss on the sleeping girl’s forehead. As an afterthought, he circled a finger in the air until a flower appeared in the centre of his palm. Loki left it right on her pillow where he knew she’d spot it as soon as she awakened. “Sleep tight.”

Chapter 4

Taglist: @mischiefsarawr @howdidurhammergrowchris @speedy-object @delightfulheartdream @queen-of-mischief

#loki fanfic #loki oc #loki smut #best friends to lovers #loki x original female character #marvelau #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki x ofc

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breakyeol · 4 years ago

Text

— WHAT HE LOST

So you got dumped. It sucks, but hey, at least you’ve got your best friends who always seem know exactly what to do to help make you feel better.

┗ Pairing: Chanyeol x Reader x Baekhyun

Genre: friends to lovers au, angst, fluff, smut

Words: 12.8k (I wish I was kidding)

Rating: 18+

Warnings: strong language, drinking, mentions of toxic relationships, mentions of cheating, explicit sexual content ; dom(?)baekhyun, switch sub!chanyeol, switch!reader, their roles ended up being very blurred, you’re the bologna in a chanbaek sandwich, threesome, very mild dirty talk, teasing, oral (f. & m. receiving), gentle throat fucking, hair pulling, multiple orgasms, squirting, yeol just wants to be a good boy but baek just wants to break the headboard

A/N; the poll I did for this fanfic was so fun!!! I seriously love interacted with you guys and receiving your feedback! I definitely think it’s something I’d like to do again in the future! I hope you guys enjoy the results! PS, I low key suck at writing endings sorry loves.

It’s half past two when you show up in front of their door, clothes soaked and heavy from the rain you hadn’t bothered to shield yourself from, heart bruised and aching from the ruthless beat down it had been forced to endure. It’s been a really long night.

Chanyeol is the one to finally open the door, face flushed and swollen, pink lips dry and pouted, dark hair unruly and disheveled with a ridiculous cowlick you would find incredibly amusing if not for the crushing weight of the night’s previous events still weighing heavily on your chest.

“Y/n?” He rasps, blinking hard twice, as if he hadn’t recognized you at first. You wouldn’t hold it against him, you probably look like a drowned rat in your current state.

A shaky grin pulls at your lips, though it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “Hey, Yeol.”

His brows furrow and he swipes a large hand down the length of his face. “What time is it? What– what are you doing here?” There’s no malice in the question, only drowsy confusion as he tries to put the puzzle pieces together in his sleep hazed mind.

Instead of answering, you tip your chin forward and ask one of your own. “Mind if I come in? It feels like my fingers are about to fall off.”

All of a sudden his eyes pop open real wide and he gasps, as if just then realizing that you were standing outside his door in the freezing night air, drenched to the bone. He immediately ushers you inside, appearing genuinely distraught. “Jesus, you’re soaked. Did you walk here or something?”

Combing your wet hair out of your face, you offer a blunt nod of confirmation. “Yup.”

His jaw drops and he splutters in disbelief. “You walked here? In the pouring rain? Are you insane?! It’s the middle of the night! Something terrible could have happened to you! And you’re not even wearing a coat!” He gestures wildly at your waterlogged t-shirt and jeans, all drowsiness gone from his eyes.

“I’m fine, Chanyeol.” You sigh, moving past him and into the warmth of his apartment.

“Y/n, that really wasn’t smart. You should’ve called me.” He insists in that disapproving tone that reminds you of a parent scolding a petulant child.

You turn to him with raised brows, the vague outline of amusement tinging your words, “Would you have woken up?”

“You should’ve called until I did,” he shoots back without missing a beat, following close on your heel as you make your way into the living room and fall onto the couch with a soft grunt, “or you could’ve tried Baekhyun. Or literally done anything other than walk all the way here in the middle of the night in the pouring rain.”

He’s right, of course. It was dangerous walking alone at night, no matter how tough you think you are, bad things can happen to anyone. But the danger of walking the streets at night hadn’t been so much as a second thought when you left. There were far more prominent concerns plaguing your mind.

“Yeah, well.”

A beat of silence passes, and you feel the shift in Chanyeol’s gaze. You don’t dare to look over as he sinks into the space on the couch beside you, though all you really want is to lean into the comforting warmth of his body.

“Hey... are you alright?”

A painful lump forms in your throat at the question. “I—” you wince as your voice cracks, words falling dead on the tip of your tongue. Fuck. Why was it so hard to say?

“Y/n?”

The way he says your name nearly shatters the dam, and you just barely manage to pull yourself together enough to avoid turning into a sobbing mess on his couch. Snagging your lower lip roughly between your teeth, you offer a weak hum that pitches strangely in your throat– which most definitely does not go unnoticed by the boy who knows you too well for your own good.

Chanyeol’s concerned eyes sweep over your expression, those damn eyes that can see right through any mask you attempt to wear, before he speaks again in a voice so soft you could feel the steely grip around your heart ease. “Let me get you something dry to wear. Then we can make some hot cocoa and you can tell me what happened, okay?”

The idea of being dry and warm again was more than appealing enough for you to force the corners of your lips upward and manage a light nod of agreement. “Yeah.”

He shoots you a sweet smile, reaching over with a large hand to affectionately ruffle your wet hair and pushing himself off of the couch before you can retaliate. “I’ll be right back. Don’t move, I don’t need you and all your drippiness flooding the apartment. I’m pretty sure you’ve already ruined our new couch.” He teases lightheartedly, that familiar bubbling laughter erupting from his lips as you swing your middle finger up at him.

You feel yourself deflate somewhat when he vanishes into his bedroom, leaving you alone once more. It was unusually quiet. Though understandable given the time, you aren’t used to the silence of the apartment and find yourself craving Chanyeol’s booming voice and Baekhyun’s obnoxious teasing. Without them, there’s nothing to distract your scrambled mind, and you can’t stop it from lingering on the frustration and sense of betrayal that torments your heart. Squeezing your eyes shut, you sink into the plush cushions, a soft groan escaping your tensed lips.

This. Sucks.

Luckily, you aren’t alone long enough to dwell on it too deeply.

Your head snaps up at the sound of a door thudding shut, a murmur of gratitude on the tip of your tongue, but you are surprised to see a very much still half asleep Baekhyun come stumbling into the living room, donning a pair of plaid pajama pants and a tight white t-shirt that hugs the gentle swells of his chest. His eyes are barely open as he all but throws himself onto the couch, immediately curling up into your side. You only chuckle, nuzzling your nose into his cinnamon scented hair and petting down his unruly bed head as it tickles your chin.

“You’re wet.” Is the first thing he murmurs into the silence, voice thick and hoarse in his throat. You can’t suppress the shiver that ripples down the length of your spine as his warm breath washes over your icy skin, the sharp contrast in temperature startling to your senses.

“I didn’t notice.” You hum, resting your cheek against the top of his head.

“And cold.” He grumbles additionally, arms coiling tightly around the curve of your waist and tugging you flush against him. The heat of his body is more than welcome, and you’re happy to allow him to cuddle into you. It’s easy to find comfort in his familiar embrace.

“Chanyeol is getting me something else to wear.”

His head tips back at that, and you have to draw away to keep your noses from colliding. Hooded eyes drag slowly over your face, warm and searching. You swallow nervously under the intensity of his scrutinizing gaze and quickly turn away, hoping he hadn’t seen the tell tale signs of your internal turmoil. But it seems both of your best friends are more observant than you give them credit for.

You jolt in surprise as he suddenly grips your chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing you to face him again. The unexpected proximity has warmth rushing into your cheeks, and you clear your throat, eyes looking anywhere but his face. Nonetheless he still manages to read you like the pages of a children’s book.

“You’ve been crying.”

Instinctively, you try to put some distance between you and him, swatting his hand away and plastering an unconvincing scowl across your face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His lips part, and you brace yourself, knowing by the look on his face alone that he’s going to push the matter.

“Ah, Baekhyun, you’re awake.” You let out a breath of relief as Chanyeol steps out of his room, a set of black sweats and a towel draped over his arm. Perfect timing. Baekhyun nearly topples over as you jump up from the couch, quickly making your way over to where the younger boy stands. “Y/n, I got y—”

“Thanks, I’ll go change.” You rush out, cutting him off abruptly as you pull the clothes from his arms. You manage a quick smile of gratitude before you’re hurrying past him and into the bathroom, slamming the door more harshly than you intended behind you.

Very subtle, y/n.

“Fuck.” You hiss through clenched teeth, silently cursing yourself out.

Moving towards the sink, you stare at your disheveled reflection in the mirror with a weak grimace. You knew you looked like a mess but damn. You really look like you’ve been put through the wringer tonight. Which, of course, you kind of had been, but still.

It takes longer than you anticipated to wriggle yourself out of your wet clothes, nearly falling on your ass more times than you care to admit out loud in your numerous attempts to peel off your jeans. But in the end, it was more than worth it to feel the soft, warm fabric of Chanyeol’s oversized clothes against your skin. The faded scent of his aftershave eases the tension in your shoulders, but you can’t fight the buzz of nerves that come to life in your stomach as you step back out the door.

The rich, sweet scent of hot chocolate is the first thing to greet you upon your return. Noting the emptiness of the living room, you come to the quick conclusion that they’re both most likely in the kitchen. On quiet feet, you shuffle over to the entrance, peeking your head around the wall. They’re facing away from you, leaning against the island and exchanging whispered words, voices just low enough that you can’t make out what they’re saying. Though, there’s little doubt in your mind that you’re the subject of their heated conversation.

Deciding to make your presence known, you clear your throat and step onto the cool tile. Two heads whip in your direction, startled. The looks on either of their faces makes you think of two children being caught doing something they definitely should not be. Exactly... what had they been talking about?

Chanyeol is the first to move, plucking up the mug from the countertop and making his way over to you. “Extra marshmallows and extra whipped cream with a pinch of cinnamon,” he says, a soft smile on his lips and a warm blush on his cheeks, “just how you like it.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, grateful for the warmth of the smooth white ceramic against your palms. “Thanks, yeol.”

“Let’s sit!” Baekhyun exclaims before you can even take a sip, hands finding your shoulders and steering you back towards the couch. You’re too focused on not spilling the contents of your cup to make any sort of objection.

It’s only when squeezed between their two bodies on their slightly too small couch, their concerned but curious eyes burning into the sides of your face, that you begin to wonder if it was the wisest idea to come here. But then remember just how badly you were craving a good hug and sigh, knowing if anyone was gonna give you one, it’d be one of these two dopey boys.

It’s obvious neither of them are going to speak first, probably not wanting to push you incase you weren’t ready to talk about it yet (though, the intensity of their stares were doing just that), so you decide to take the initiative before the awkward tension can get even more unbearable.

“We broke up.”

You bring the mug to your lips, taking a tentative sip of your gradually cooling hot chocolate as you allow them to absorb the new information.

“Well, shit.” Baekhyun coughs. Chanyeol reaches behind you to smack the back of his head, hissing something about being insensitive but you’re already more than aware of how they feel about your boyfriend— ex-boyfriend.

Since you first started talking to him, neither of the boys were his biggest fan. To their credit, they tried their best to be supportive, but it was hard to miss the dampening of the mood whenever you brought him up and the glares they’d shoot in his direction when they thought you weren’t paying attention. You called them out on their passive aggressive behavior on a number of occasions, and they were always quick to defend themselves with the claim of getting ‘bad vibes’.

Looking back, you probably should’ve given their suspicions some deeper consideration.

But you had just liked him so much. It was hard for you to see past the handsome, charming exterior to what really laid beneath. Gilded boys had always been your weakness, always enchanting you with the prettiest of lies only to shatter you with their ugly truths.

You should have known better.

“Are you alright?”

You shrug, sucking your lower lip into your mouth with a heavy exhale from your nose. “I’m fine, really. I’m just... embarrassed, I guess.”

Baekhyun blinks at you in confusion. “Embarrassed? Why are you embarrassed? He should be the embarrassed one for losing someone as amazing as you.”

“I’m embarrassed because—” you wince, bracing yourself for the response that you just know you’re about to receive, “because he dumped me.”

“What?!” Chanyeol erupts, nearly making you spill your hot cocoa from the sheer explosiveness of his reaction, “you let that literal piece of walking human trash—!”

“Chanyeol.”

At Baekhyun’s sharp interruption, the emotional younger immediately slumps, guilt painting his face as he looks at you with remorseful eyes. “I’m sorry.”

You only smile, squeezing his hand in reassurance.

“So,” Baekhyun begins cautiously, “what happened?”

No point beating around the bush now. “We were hanging out at his place. I found a pair of underwear that weren’t mine in his bedroom. Confronted him. He called me a clingy bitch and told me to get the fuck out and never come back.” You say this as nonchalantly as you can manage, but your hold on the cup tightens substantially and an unmistakable thickness rises in your throat. You curse yourself silently for feeling like shit over a guy who obviously couldn’t be bothered to give even half a shit about you.

“He cheated on you?” Chanyeol leaps up from the couch, eyes wide and furious. If you were to look close enough, you were almost certain you’d see fire burning within them.

“That fucker.” Baekhyun all but snarls, hands balling into tight fists. “What’s his address?”

“Baekhyun—” you sigh, leaning forward to set your hot chocolate down on the coffee table.

“No, I’m dead serious, what’s his address?” He pins you with a look that tells you he is very much not messing around. They were being ridiculous, angry over things they couldn’t change. It was pointless and harmful to dwell on things that had already happened. You’d much rather pick yourself up and move on than allow yourself to keep hurting over a stupid boy.

Of course, that’s easier said than done. And your best friends are not the types to just let things go. Not when the people they care about are wronged.

Chanyeol seems to be off in his own little world, ranting furiously to himself while cracking his knuckles in a way that is probably meant to be intimidating (though, to you, the giant puppy is anything but). “There’s no way I’m letting a piece of shit like him get away with this. God, I knew he was a scumbag the moment I laid eyes in him. I should’ve—”

“Guys, please.” Your voice cracks when you finally intervene, and that’s all it takes for their immediate anger to fizzle out.

The tension in their shoulders melts, their features softening drastically as they spot the glistening of tears in your eyes despite your feeble attempts to blink them away. In an instant, they’re cuddling back up against you, murmuring soft apologies and pleading for you not to cry over someone like him. But the dam is already broken, and salty tears are swelling up in your eyes and spilling down your cheeks before you can stop them.

Everything you’d been holding back comes bubbling violently towards the surface. Sobs wrack your chest, and you cling onto the hands of either boy as they watch you helplessly.

Chanyeol, the big softie that he is, has to bite his lip to keep the tears threatening to swell in his own eyes at bay. He’s never been good at holding himself together when he sees you hurting. He feels everything with his entire being, his empathy for his friends and the people he cares about on another level. But that big, stupid heart of his is one of the many reasons you adore him.

Baekhyun, on the other hand, is not the most suave when it comes to comforting people. Most of the time he’ll try to crack jokes and make light of the situation, but he knew better than to break out his usual antics when you were in such a state. So he held his tongue, opting to wrap his hand around yours in hopes of comforting you in even the slightest.

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” You groan once your sobs subside into sniffles and you feel the warm flush of embarrassment filtering into your cheeks at your own outburst. You really hated crying in front of people. So it wasn’t too often that your friends, or anybody for that matter, saw such a raw display from you. “It’s just so frustrating and humiliating, you know?”

There’s a moment of silence as you wipe the tears from your face with the hand not held in a death grip by Baekhyun. It’s the nice kind of silence though, the kind you don’t have to fill and don’t really want to, encasing the three of you in a little bubble of comfort. Of course, with these two, you can’t expect it to last long.

“If I ever see him again,” Chanyeol huffs, dropping his chin onto your shoulder, “it’s on sight.”

You laugh at that, the sound hoarse and nasally and just plain awful, but genuine nonetheless. Raising a hand, you comb it through his soft black locks in a show of gratitude.

“Baek?” You turn to him with a sniffle. He hums softly in acknowledgement, tracing comforting circles against the top of your hand. “Do you have anything to drink?”

“What? Is my hot cocoa not good enough for you?” He teases light-heartedly and you chuckle, shaking your head.

“It’s delicious. But I was thinking of something… a little stronger.”

A mischievous grin upturns the corners of his lips as he realizes what you’re suggesting. “I’ve got just what you need.”

“You know what, FUCK MEN. They’re all stupid. Who needs ‘em? Not me.”

“Yeah men are assholes!” Baekhyun agrees loudly, thrusting his empty shot glass in the air, before pausing and reconsidering his words. “Wait, I’m a man.”

“You and Yeol are the only exceptions.” You reassure, slapping your hand down on his shoulder. He grins widely at that, satisfied. “But every other man— they can all suck my dick,” you continue your tirade, swinging your hands around animatedly, “they’re all liars and cheats and idiots and I’ve had enough of they’re bullshit to last three lifetimes.”

Chanyeol giggles softly from where he’s situated on the floor between your legs which are draped lazily over either of his broad shoulders, his head resting on your thigh, obviously amused by your tipsy antics.

The first shot went down hard, more bitter than your resentment for your piece of shit ex-boyfriend. The second soothed the ache in your chest and allowed for the tension in your muscles to gradually ebb away. And the third? Well, you opted to take your time sipping on that one, not wanting to completely lose yourself in the intoxicating buzz.

You were never the biggest drinker, but sometimes a few shots of something a little stronger than beer helps take the edge off. Right now seems as good a time as any for some liquid courage.

“You wanna know the worst part?”

However, one of the biggest reasons you erred on the side of caution around alcohol was because you had a tendency to spill things that didn’t necessarily need to be exposed. Especially not to your tipsy best friends at three in the morning when emotions ran high and couldn’t be easily stifled.

“What?” Baekhyun leans closer, eyes wide and burning with curiosity at the sudden somberness of your voice. Chanyeol tilts his head back at the shift in tone, looking up at you through dark lashes.

“In the three years we were together,” the two boys strain their ears as your voice drops into a careful whisper, as if someone other than them was around to hear the secret you hadn’t dared to share with a single soul up until this point, “he only ate me out once.”

For a moment, you think the disbelief that flashes across their faces is because you’ve brought up something of a sexual nature. But that thought is quickly squashed.

“Once? In three years? Is he insane?!”

“Shows what kind of man he really is.” Baekhyun scoffs, clicking his tongue. “Did you go down on him?”

You nod in reluctant confirmation, still sober enough to feel the slightest pinch of shame at your admission.

“That’s not how it works! Sex is about give and take, balance,” Chanyeol enunciates the word carefully, and you can’t help the upward twitch of your lips at the seriousness of his expression and the passion behind his words, “You can’t just receive without giving anything back!”

“He said he didn’t like it. And he only did it that one time because we fought on my birthday two years ago and he felt bad.” You explain, pouting heavily as you recall all the times he refused to go down on you.

Baekhyun blanches, jaw dropping. “You haven’t been eaten out in two years? Oh, baby...” you can feel the empathy rolling off of them in thick waves as they allow the new information to really sink in.

“I know, I know! Please don’t make me think about it anymore.” You whine distraughtly, rubbing your hands roughly down your face as frustration and annoyance bubble up inside of you. “I’m already pent up enough as is. That selfish bastard— he couldn’t even make up for it with his stupid dick either. He was all talk when it came to things like that. He only ever cared about getting himself off. It didn’t matter if I felt good as long as he could get his dick wet. What bullshit! Do you even know how many orgasms I had to fake?!”

Everything you’d kept inside comes exploding out of you in a rush of fiery passion, refusing to remain bottled up for even a moment longer. But of course, the moment it’s out and unable to be taken back, you regret saying anything about it at all. Red hot embarrassment floods your senses and you sink in on yourself, slapping a hand over your offending lips.

Damnit. You really shouldn’t have taken that third shot.

“Fuck. I’m sorry. That was— I shouldn’t have—” you attempt to backtrack, mouth twisted into a grimace.

There’s an exchange of glances that you don’t see, too wrapped up in your own humiliation to notice.

Then, a gentle hand slides over your thigh and you jolt in surprise, head snapping up to find a very serious Baekhyun looking back at you. You’d never seen this kind of expression on his face before. It was different then his usual playful grin or teasing smirk. Darker, somehow... dangerous. Like he was looking right through you and seeing everything you’d kept so carefully bottled up inside. It incites within you a vulnerability you had long forgotten.

“When was the last time you came?”

The question catches you off guard, to say the very least.

“Shit, i-it’s not like I keep track.” You laugh weakly, trying not to focus on the warmth seeping into your lower belly or the proximity of their bodies. But then his fingers are feathering over the curve of your knee and your heart is picking up speed and you’re left wondering at which point this conversation took such a turn.

Between your legs, Chanyeol shifts and your gaze snap down just in time to see him turn to face you fully, something dark and unfamiliar stirring within those big brown eyes. On instinct, you try to close your legs, but the sheer largeness of his body nestled comfortably between them prevents you from doing anything of the sort.

There’s no ignoring the rush of heat that ignites in your core, the closeness too much for your body to process all at once, only fueled by the long neglected desire for some kind of release.

And the fact that all he needed to do was get just a little bit closer—

But those are most definitely not the types of thoughts you should be having about your best friends. No matter how attractive they are. No matter how good Baekhyun’s pretty hand feels, slowly edging it’s way higher and higher up your thigh. No matter how cute the look on Chanyeol’s face is, a searing blush turning his full cheeks a fiery shade of red that easily consumes the entirety of his handsome face.

Fuck. Why was he looking at you like that?

“Y/n…”

Oh god. Why did your name have to sound like that coming from his lips?

Baekhyun’s fingers find your chin, gently coaxing your attention away from the man kneeling before you and back onto him. Your breathing has become shallow and fast, the insufficient amount of oxygen making you feel somewhat lightheaded. But the sensation is not a wholly unwelcome one. Not when his own smooth, liquor stained breath is like ambrosia on your tongue— heavy and rich and dangerously tempting.

“That piece of shit couldn’t make you feel good, could he?”

“No.” You swallow around the word, willing your treacherous eyes away from the entrancing curve of his pink mouth.

“No…” he repeats softly, tracing his thumb lightly over the flesh of your lower lip, “but I can— we can.” He lowers his gaze, tempting yours to follow as he ticks a brow at the younger boy. “… can’t we, Chanyeol?”

“Yes.” Chanyeol breathes without a moment’s hesitation, nuzzling his nose against the inside of your knee, warm fingertips teasing the cool skin of your ankles before he’s quickly amending, “if it’s what you want.”

Baekhyun’s lips feather over the shell of your burning ear and you feel consumed.

“Do you want it?”

“This is crazy.” It’s a deliberate avoidance of the question and you both know it.

He cocks his head, the corner of his lip curling into a teasing little grin that makes you feel like he can read your mind. “Is it?”

Yes. The word is on the tip of your tongue. But you would be a dirty, filthy liar if you said it had never crossed your mind.

The thought of you and them.

Usually one... sometimes both.

But those had just been fleeting fantasies when nothing else could satiate the unrelenting heat in your belly, shameful fantasies that, for the most part, you kept locked up tight in the furthest corner of your mind and only let out at the darkest hour of the night, when the midnight winds carried away the trembling breaths of their names, a whispered secret shared only between you and the moon. Only then would you dare to bask in their phantom caresses, allow your mind to conjure up images of their faces, twisted in beautiful bliss.

It was a dangerous game you played, but god, it felt too good to be wrong.

Or maybe that was just you trying to rationalize getting off to the thought of your best friends.

After a few moments of you grappling for the right words, Baekhyun tentatively intervenes with the thick, tension-filled silence that had encased the space around you. “It’s okay if you don’t want to. No pressure from us, sweetheart. I understand two at once can be a bit... intimidating.”

Though he started out in a tone that suggested reassurance and understanding, that last phrase, donning an underlying pitch of provocation, gives you pause.

“Are you suggesting you don’t think I could handle the two of you?” There’s a low scoff to your words, a spark of competitiveness that only Byun Baekhyun himself could draw out of you igniting in your stomach.

He smiles at you innocently, walking two fingers up the length of your thigh. “Not at all.” Something about the glint in his eye tells you that that is exactly what he was suggesting.

A light pout touches your lips and you lower your gaze to the man on the floor. “Chanyeol?”

You don’t need to elaborate for him to understand what you’re asking, that familiar boyish grin curling across his face as he props his chin on top of your knee.

“I think you could handle me just fine.”

A shiver ricochets down your spine at the divine way the words drip from his lips, thick and honey like, sensual in their suggestive nature. You hold his burning stare for a few moments longer than you probably should have, feeling yourself slowly being devoured by the dark, ravenous hunger that swirls within it. This was a fire you were not accustomed to seeing ablaze in Chanyeol. You were used to the fire of his competitiveness, the searing flame of his imperishable passion.

But this— this was something new all together.

If you were to touch him, you wonder if you would be able to feel the savage heat of it against your fingertips.

At your sides, your hands itch to find out. But a gentle tug at the string of your- er, Chanyeol’s sweatpants pulls your mind away from that specific thought. You can’t help the shaky gasp that catches in your throat at the sight of Baekhyun’s hands hovering dangerously close to your heat. You can only watch, melting into a puddle of pure need as he twirls the string nonchalantly around his beautiful fingers, slipping his two middle digits into one of the loops and proceeding to curl them in a way that made your mind jump to highly inappropriate possibilities.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

His teeth graze the shell of your ear and the wetness forming between your thighs increases tenfold as the smooth tenor of his voice thrums through your skull.

“I’d love for you to prove me wrong.”

You’re not sure who leaned in first. But the next thing you know, your lips are on his. There’s no time to dwell on the fact that you’re kissing your best friend, your mind rapidly growing hazy from the unexpected intensity. There’s a certain viciousness in his ministrations, a brutality to his lust that he breathes into your lungs and sends blazing through your veins. It’s like nothing you’ve ever experienced before.

You can’t help the surprised moan that escapes you when he takes your tongue between his lips and sucks, a low content hum reverberating through his chest before he releases you with a lewd ‘pop’.

“Fuck,” he groans languidly, “You taste like chocolate, baby.”

Calloused hands are curling around your jaw before you can fully recuperate, drawing your attention away from Baekhyun just in time to see Chanyeol’s rapidly approaching face. His dark eyes are hooded and wanting, the faintest of pouts residing on his red-bitten mouth as he breathes in an almost whining tone, “I wanna taste.”

You can think of no reason to object.

His lips slip over yours with a gentleness that is almost staggering. Despite his impatience, there’s an underlying hesitance to his motions, an uncertainty that gives you the feeling that… he’s waiting for you to take the lead. And you do such with fervor.

Raising a hand, you slip gentle fingers up the length of his throat and give an experimental squeeze, not hard enough to do anything other than apply a bit of pressure, but just enough to get your message across.

I’m in charge.

The delighted moan he produces in response makes your lips curl devilishly.

But you’re not given the opportunity to relish in the hot rush of power long, a second pair of lips attaching to your throat making you waver. A hot tongue laves over your collarbone, followed by the sharp pressure of teeth and your jaw goes slack.

Did Baekhyun just bite you?

And… why didn’t you hate it?

Chanyeol takes your open mouth as an invitation, smoothly tilting his head and deepening the kiss. Fuck. He tastes like cinnamon and liquor, a combination you had no idea could be so addictive.

Mind dazed and sufficiently distracted, you don’t notice the hand slipping beneath the fabric of your sweats until a shock of pleasure bolts up your spine. You gasp, breaking the kiss as your eyes drop in order to see which of the two boys is the culprit. Baekhyun lets out a low groan, feathering gentle touches over the soaking fabric of your underwear.

“You’re so fucking wet, baby.” He growls dangerously in your ear. “We’ve barely even started. Are you already that excited?”

You shudder involuntarily, only managing a hoarse moan when he grinds the heel of his palm against your clit. He chuckles tauntingly, as if you’ve just proved his point, but you can’t find it in yourself to be embarrassed with the way his skilled fingers are stroking your clothed heat.

The heaviness of Chanyeol’s gaze boring into you, devouring every detail of your blissed expression, only serves in making the sensations all the more intense. You attempt to grind yourself down into Baekhyun’s touch, seeking more friction, only to whimper in dismay as he withdraws completely, leaving you cold, unsatisfied, and aching for more.

“Baekhyun—”

“Take them off.” The abruptness of the command has your breath catching in your throat and a telling warmth fluttering through your core. You weren’t accustomed to hearing Baekhyun’s voice like this, so different from his usually light hearted teasing and playful jibes that it throws you for a moment. He cocks a brow amid your stunned silence, licking over the seam of his lip. “What? You need help?”

Snapping yourself out of it, you swing your gaze over to Chanyeol, offering him a cheeky, lopsided grin. “Can’t say I’d mind it.”

“I’m happy to lend a hand.” He hums, shooting you a playful wink that has a wide smile breaking across your face. He makes quick work of your borrowed sweats, easily tugging the loose fabric down the length of your legs and casting it aside carelessly. You watch the way his eyes flit greedily over the expense of your bare thighs, relishing the low, strained groan that flutters from his gaping lips when his attention fixes on the thin, black, lacy material that separates him from your soaking pussy.

“Those, too,” you instruct softly, sinking your teeth into the inside of your cheek. He swallows, and goes to reach for them, only to draw back abruptly when you swat his hands away with a sound of disapproval, “uh-uh. Do it with your teeth.”

Chanyeol’s breath hitches, a severe blush rushing into his cheeks.

Beside you, Baekhyun grins wildly. “That’s my girl.”

You smirk to yourself at the praise, but don’t remove your eyes from Chanyeol’s for a single moment, absolutely loving the pretty shade of red his handsome face has taken on.

Slowly, he dips his head, not daring to break your gaze as he latches his teeth onto the thin black lace on your underwear and begins to drag them down the length of your legs. Goosebumps erupt across your skin, soothed by the press of his hot palms as they trail his descent down your thighs, over the curves of your knees, down your calves, until you are left bare and exposed before them.

Fuck. That was so hot.

“Cute, isn’t he?” Baekhyun hums playfully against your jaw, like the whisper of the devil in your ear. You let out a trembling breath as the younger boy presses a gentle kiss to the inside of your knee, nodding with an airy sigh of ‘ so cute’. Baekhyun nips at the juncture of your throat, and you can only watch with bated breath as he reaches a hand between your thigh, dragging his long middle finger through your folds, teasing at your entrance. “Want your sweet Chanyeollie to eat your pretty cunt, baby? Hm? Want him to make you feel good?”

Your chest rises rapidly, fast, shallow breaths swirling into your lungs. His filthy words curl beneath your nose, thrumming in your ears, intoxicating and disorienting in their deadly temptation. Desperation tugs at every nerve in your body and your hips buck and roll, chasing his caress. Want pools, dark and heavy, in Chanyeol’s hooded eyes as he watches his friend’s teasing ministrations. He licks his lips, full and pink and glistening in the low light of their apartment and you feel yourself clench around nothing.

“Fuck yes.” The words are nothing less than a growl in the back of your throat, a sound you never thought yourself capable of producing.

Baekhyun suddenly reaches forward, weaving his fingers through Chanyeol’s thick hair and tugging him forward. The younger gives no resistance, bracing his hands on your lower thighs as he allows himself to be guided to you. His lips part, tongue peeking out, and your anticipation skyrockets. But then he stops just short, and all you’re left with is the faint caress of his warm breath to soothe the insatiable ache between your hips. You almost whimper.

Chanyeol’s nostrils flare, eyes sharpening in annoyance as he shoots a glare up in Baekhyun’s direction. He only grins and arches a brow. “What? You’re not gonna ask for it first? Where are your manners, Yeol?” He gasps mockingly, eyes twinkling with mirth.

You don’t expect Chanyeol to give in at first, not with how competitive he could be and especially not with Baekhyun acting so damn condescending. But then he does, and you forget how to breathe.

“Please, y/n,” he pants hotly against your skin, “I wanna taste you so bad. I wanna make you feel good, baby. Let me make you feel good. Please. Fuck, please.” A low, needy groan trembles in the back of his throat, clinging to that last ravenous plea. He snags his lower lip between his teeth and you feel yourself throb. The man looks down right sinful, Baekhyun still clutching onto his inky locks, forcing a slight strain in his neck as he looks up at you with those damn eyes that make your stomach churn and your mind spin.

God, he’s so beautiful.

Overwhelmed with the need to touch him, you nudge Baekhyun’s hand out of the way and replace it with your own, immediately loving the feeling of Chanyeol’s soft hair sliding between your fingers. His eyes flutter under the gentleness of your grip, lips parting as he breathes a delicate sigh, gazing up at you expectantly.

“Come here, Yeolie.”

He’s more than happy to comply.

The first stroke of his tongue sends sparks of electricity shooting through your entire body, a silent gasp shaping your lips. He looks up at you through dark lashes, encouraged and invigorated by your responsiveness to him, licking eagerly at your cunt. Soft moans flutter through his chest, and you shiver at the faint vibrations that are sent pulsing through you.

“Fuck, Chan,” you hiss, rocking your hips forward when he laves over your clit. The friction makes your skin tremble, a dangerous heat rising beneath it. If you knew he was this good with his mouth, you would have jumped his bones a whole lot sooner.

Another moan builds in your chest, but it’s abruptly stifled when Baekhyun tangles a hand into your hair and pulls you into a kiss that doesn’t fail to knock the air out of your lungs. Having both of their mouths on you makes your head spin and you can’t decide which to focus on. You’ve never been with more than one person at the time and it’s slightly overwhelming to suddenly have two men— two gorgeous men at that, both eager and willing to give you more pleasure than you’ve ever experienced.

Warm fingers suddenly slip beneath the thick fabric of your sweatshirt, and you shiver as they glide over your skin, light and teasing in advance towards your chest. A tremor wracks your spine when he pinches a nipple, squeezing his digits around the shape of your breast. Your back arches unconsciously, and you feel him smirk. Distracted, you don’t feel the burn of Chanyeol’s impatient glare until his teeth sink into the soft flesh of your inner thigh.

Yelping in shock, you snap your gaze back down to the younger boy, disbelief coloring your features. He has the audacity to smirk at you, cocking a brow in a manner that has a mixture of annoyance and arousal flaring up in your gut. Any glimmer of smug accomplishment is quickly washed from his face when your hand shoots down and roughly grips the hair on the back of his head, yanking him upwards until your nose to nose.

“Watch your teeth, Yeolie.” You murmur darkly.

“Or what?” The corner of your mouth twitches at his gutsy response.

“Or I’ll make sure to edge you until you cry.”

His eyes widen at the threat and he swallows thickly. From your peripheral, you see the crotch of his grey sweatpants rise.

“Oh? But it looks like you’d like that.” A deep crimson flush rushes into his ears and tinges the tips of his ears and he lowers his eyes, unable to hold your mirthful gaze any longer. “I guess I’ll just have to think of a better punishment.”

“I’m sorry,” his voice comes out airy and desperate, the natural rasp making the knot in your stomach tighten, “I promise I’ll be good.”

“Will you?”

“Yes.” You search his blown pupils for any sign of dishonesty, but find only sincerity and intoxicating lust. Satisfied, you release your tight grip on his hair in favor of gently stroking your knuckles over his blushing cheek.

“Then be a good boy and show me what this pretty mouth,” you trace your thumb gently over the soft, pink flesh of his lower lip, “can really do.”

The moment he’s released from your entrancing gaze, his mouth is on you again, eating you out with a fervor you’ve never before experienced. Your hips buck against him, your head tipping back as you let out rasping groans.

“Fuck, Yeol. That’s it, baby. Good boy.” He moans against you as spill praise after praise, lapping hungrily at your soaking pussy.

“That was so fucking sexy.” Baekhyun growls roughly, kissing you hard once before he’s pulling away to speak again. “Watching you boss him around, take control like that…” his voice drawls into a low groan, “really does something to me.”

“Yeah?” You ask shakily, mind whirling as Chanyeol buries his tongue inside of you. Baekhyun grins, humming lightly in confirmation. “Maybe you should let me boss you around, too.”

“Not a chance.” He chuckles. “Maybe next time. But tonight…” your mouth falls open in a silent gasp as he wraps a hand around your throat, squeezing ever so gently, “your mine, sweetheart.”

Next time. He said next time.

There’s going to be a next time.

The amount of joy you receive from those two simple words borders on irrational.

“I— oh fuck!” You can only cry out in bliss as Chanyeol wraps his lips around your clit, sucking roughly. Your hips jerk and grind, moving on their own accord as he draws you closer and closer to your high. God, you’re so close you can taste it. Your trembling hands find purchase in his hair once more, desperate to hold onto something as the coil in your stomach grows tighter and tighter, threatening to snap at any moment.

“You gonna cum all over Yeolie’s tongue, baby? You gonna cum for us?” Baekhyun coos encouragingly against your jaw, and you can only whimper and nod frantically, unable to speak when Chanyeol sinks a long finger into your wet cunt, fucking you skillfully with his digit while he focuses his mouth on abusing your throbbing clit until your reduced to little more than a trembling, whimpering mess on their living room couch.

“Yes— oh god, yes.”

When the coil snaps, it snaps hard. You can only manage a strangled whimper when it crashes over you. How long had it been since you last come on something other than your own hand? Weeks? Months? You can’t recall. But honestly how much does it really matter when your best friend’s face is nestled snug between your thighs?

The muscles of your legs seize and tremble beneath the force of your release, only held open by Chanyeol’s strong hands. He is unrelenting even as you come undone around him, tongue rolling over your clit, finger curling against your walls as his heady, hooded eyes devour you. You only manage to get him to detach him from you when you give a weak tug at his hair, the post-orgasm sensitivity proving too much for your body to handle.

“F– fuck.” You shiver, panting as tendrils of residual pleasure lick at your senses, the cold phantom of his tongue making you clench around nothing but empty air is pathetic greed. “Fuck, come here.”

Chanyeol is quick to rise onto his knees, obedient as ever, letting out a soft gasp of surprise as you cup his face and draw him into a heated kiss. He melts into you, large hands finding purchase on your thighs (which are still shaking) and caressing them soothingly.

“Thank you,” you breathe against his mouth, “thank you. Thank you.”

You feel him smiling as you continue to express your gratitude in gentle words spoken between deep, passionate kisses and it’s not long before his smile turns into something wide and toothy and uncontainable and he’s bursting into a fit of giggles as you resort to peppering the rest of his face in playful kisses.

“Easy now, sweetheart. Save the aftercare for when we’re done, yeah?” Baekhyun’s lilting hum draws your attention, and you look at him with wide eyes.

“We’re not done?”

His brows jump, that familiar lopsided smirk offsetting his pretty lips. “Are you kidding me? We’ve got two years worth of orgasms to make up for. We’re nowhere near finished.” A shiver of excitement ricochets down your spine at the promise laced into his words, and you have to bite your lip to keep a wide grin at bay.

Suddenly, Baekhyun rises from the couch and it’s with immense effort that you refrain from staring directly at the prominent bulge straining against the thin fabric of his plaid pajama pants. Swallowing thickly, you look up at him as he extends a hand. “Come on. The bedroom is much more comfortable to get your brains fucked out in. Speaking from experience.” You scoff at the sleazy smirk he shoots you, but slide your hand into his nonetheless.

The moment you’re on your feet, your knees buckle and you nearly topple. Luckily for you, Chanyeol has remarkable reflexes (when it counts) and catches you by the waist, pulling you flush against his chest.

“Shit, Yeol. You really did a number on her.” Baekhyun remarks teasingly. A feverish blush rises up your neck and you shoot him a glare.

“Shut up.”

He bites the corner of his lip, gives you a heated once over that leaves your skin burning and trembling, before spinning on his heels sauntering in the direction of his bedroom door. He stops in the frame for a brief moment and shoots you a sultry wink from over his shoulder. “Come make me.”

Fuck.

Chanyeol let’s out a yelp of surprise as you lace your fingers through his and tug him hurriedly in the direction of his roommate’s bedroom. The very second that you’re through the door, lips connect with yours, stealing the very air from your lungs and obliterating any last remaining bit of your sanity. Hands seize your half naked body, eagerly exploring the expanse of your feverish skin. They tug at the hindering fabric of your sweatshirt, until all at once it is being pulled over your head and cast off carelessly somewhere in the darkness. You don’t even shiver, the heat of their bodies surrounding you and warding off the cool air.

Chanyeol takes the opportunity to slide a hand beneath your chin and tilt your head back so that it rests on his shoulder, the tip of his tongue flicking over your lips until they part, welcoming him in. Reaching back, you grab hold of his hips, tugging them forward and guiding them in a slow grinding motion against your ass. He moans hotly at the frictions, kiss turning sloppy as pleasure rushes through him.

You’re distinctly aware of the pressure of Baekhyun’s own mouth beginning a slow descent, starting from your jaw, gliding down the length of your throat, pausing to lick and suck at your sensitive nipples, kissing with a staggering tenderness over your belly. Then you hear his knees hit the floor. All at once, his tongue flattens against your clit, and you have to break away from Chanyeol as your body jolts violently in response. There’s still lingering sensitivity from your first orgasm, amplifying the pleasure tenfold.

And god, it’s so good.

“F– fuck, Baek—” your voice breaks off into a trembling whimper, hips bucking as he sinks a finger into your heat. Followed shortly thereafter by a second. Then a third. The stretch has you keening, leaning the full weight of your body against Chanyeol’s sturdy chest. He’s the only thing keeping you upright at the moment. Had you been left to your own devices, you would have already collapsed.

“Gotta make sure you’re ready for us, baby.” Baekhyun hums with a lightness entirely unfitting for the current situation, nipping at the inside of your thigh. He supplies you with a slow, calculated thrust, biting his lip harshly as he watches your glistening arousal coat his digits. “Fucking hell, your soaking.”

You whimper shakily, head tipping back as Chanyeol nips and sucks at the juncture of your throat, his large hands gliding over the shape of your body as if he intends to commit it to memory— caressing every curve, fondling every edge, touching you, worshipping you with a reverence that pours into your very soul. You’ve never been touched like this before. Most men just think they have a right to you the second your clothes are off (some even before that). There’s no respect, no appreciation, nothing but dirty lust.

But this— this is different. It’s a feeling you can’t quite put into words. The way he’s touching you, like you’re a precious work of art, it makes you feel good. It makes you feel… beautiful. Something you rarely, if ever, felt when you were with your ex.

Baekhyun swirls his tongue around your clit and simultaneously curls his fingers, successfully stroking that long neglected bundle of nerves inside of you. The sensations it sets off inside of you are intense and overwhelming, and within seconds you’re coming for a second time. This orgasm comes completely unexpectedly and without any real warning outside of the breakneck explosion of pleasure that has stars scattering across your vision.

“Baek—!” you can only manage a broken yelp of his name as your body convulses above him, wracked and disoriented by the sudden, explosive burst of ecstasy. Now your shivering, trembling and gasping violently, but not from the cold. He watches in wonder as you unravel, clenching so tightly around his fingers that he can only begin to imagine what you’ll feel like coming around his cock. Shit, he can’t wait to be inside of you. He’s throbbing at the mere thought of it.

Chanyeol’s no better off, barely holding himself back from rutting against you like some kind of animal. But he wants to impress you, show you he has some semblance of self control even when it feels like he might burst in his pants at any given moment. He wants to be good for you. So for now, he can only watch with bated breath, painfully hard in his sweats, as your face contorts into an expression of pure bliss. God, you look so beautiful like this he almost can’t stand it. How could anyone let someone like you go?

“Holy f-fuck.” You whimper, attempting to catch your breath as your high begins to fade. Baekhyun has plastered a cocky grin across his face by the time you look down at him, though his eyes still sparkle with something indecipherable.

“That was a good one.” He says, carefully retracting his fingers from your heat as Chanyeol hums in agreement, nuzzling his nose behind your ear comfortingly when you shudder and whine at the emptiness. “We’re gonna break her at this rate.”

“Not a chance,” you interject firmly, albeit somewhat breathlessly, “I’m a lot tougher than you think.” It’s the truth, but the quiver in your voice begs to differ.

“So you can handle another one?” Baekhyun asks, rising to his full height.

You hold his fiery gaze. “I can handle anything you give me.”

Something in his eyes darkens. “Careful, sweetheart. You have… no idea the kind of filthy, depraved things I want to do to you.” His voice drops an octave, and, despite having already come twice (twice as many times as you were used to), your greedy cunt still throbs with need.

Boldly, you extend a hand, caressing over his clothed length, and feel a surge of pride when he inhales sharply, hard gaze faltering.

Leaning forward, you feather your lips over his, teasing. It’s a dangerous game you're playing, you know that. But you’re enjoying it far too much to stop now.

“Show me.”

Those two little words are all it takes to break Byun Baekhyun.

“Bed. Now.”

Perhaps you’re just a little too eager to comply, barely biting back a grin of excitement as you turn tail and scramble to his king sized bed.

The disheveled sheets welcome you into their embrace, still warm in the spot Baekhyun had occupied prior your unannounced visit. They smell of him, you notice, the coconut of his shampoo, the milk & honey of his body wash, the soft vanilla of his perfume. You recognize the latter as the bottle he “borrowed” from you a few months back and had yet to return. Not that you really mind. You secretly like the fact that he smells like you.

Chanyeol is first to round the side of the bed, ridding himself of his clothes along the way. Shirt first, then pants, and you can’t help but giggle as he hops clumsily out of his boxers, nearly bumping into the nightstand before he falls gracelessly onto the mattress beside you, offering up a sheepish grin.

“Sexy, aren’t I?” Sarcasm bleeds through his tone, embarrassment hot on his cheeks, though it’s quickly soothed as you draw him into a gentle kiss.

“Excruciatingly.” You enunciate teasingly, nipping at the tip of his nose.

The bed dips around your ankles, and you peer down to see a very primal looking Baekhyun crawling towards you, like a predator honing in on his prey. The carnal hunger pooling in his hooded eyes hits you straight in the chest, and for a moment you forget how to breathe.

Slotting himself between your hips, you could easily make out every inch of his length resting against your stomach, hot and hard and throbbing. You don’t think you’ve ever wanted anyone inside of you this badly. His head lowers to your throat and he sets your skin ablaze with open mouthed kisses. Chanyeol makes sure the opposite side of your neck isn’t neglected long, feeling the erratic pulsing of your carotid artery beneath the slow strokes of his tongue. Your head falls back into the pillows, a sigh fluttering from your lips as you’re bathed in their affections.

Baekhyun slips a hand beneath your knee, hooking it over his hip. Your lungs tremble with excitement when he slides his tip slowly through your wet folds.

“I’m gonna fuck you until you see stars.”

“I already have,” you smirk lazily in response, snagging the corner of your lip between your teeth, “Twice.”

He doesn’t seem discouraged, curving a hand around the shape of your jaw and feathering his mouth over yours as his eyes glint with something sinful and electrifying. “Then I’m gonna show you the goddamn galaxy.”

There’s no time to respond before his hips are rolling forward, filling you to the hilt with one smooth stroke. A breathless gasp trembles from his throat, “fuck.”

“Does she feel good?” The question that escapes Chanyeol is weak and needy, strained and rough, coming from somewhere deep in his chest. He almost sounds like he’s struggling, battling with himself internally as he watches his best friend’s cock disappear inside of our cunt with a lewd squelch. The searing heat of his gaze makes you whine in pathetic desperation, no longer unable to form coherent words to express your desire.

“Fucking Christ, Yeol. She’s so tight a-and wet— ah, fucking perfect.” Baekhyun’s shoulders arch, a tremor rippling down his spine as your walls constrict around him, squeezing so tightly he almost loses himself then and there. But he manages to hold back, bracing a hand on your hip as he pushes himself up right.

“Baek, please.”

There’s no need for elaboration. He knows exactly what you’re asking for. And hell, he’s more than happy to provide.

The first thrust of his hips has your back arching off of the mattress, mouth opening in silent bliss. The pace he sets is punishing, fast and deep and rough. His blunt nails dig harshly into the flesh of your hips, but you relish in it, pain and pleasure coming together to create the perfect cocktail. The lingering sensitivity from your two previous orgasms only serves to heighten the ecstasy that you're experiencing. And with Chanyeol pressed against your side, large, calloused hands and gentle lips making sure each and every inch of you is receiving attention, it doesn’t take long at all before you feel that coil in your stomach tightening.

“I’m not gonna last.” You moan weakly, clinging to Chanyeol like he’s your one and only lifeline.

“Fuck, come on, beautiful. Be a good girl and come on my cock.” Baekhyun growls, snapping his hips roughly into yours. You cry out desperately when Chanyeol trails a hand down your body, circling a careful finger around your clit.

“Oh god, please. Please, Yeol. Harder. Baek— fuck, please.” You’re on the verge of tears, muscles shuddering violently as the white hot pleasure pulses through your veins.

“Who are you begging, sweetheart?” Baekhyun grins down at you devilishly, licking at his teeth as his eyes glow with something dangerous and powerful. Your stomach whirls, and you nearly headbutt Chanyeol when your body lurches, entirely overwhelmed. It’s so much— too much— but, somehow, not enough.

Your legs squeeze around Baekhyun’s hips, heels pressing into the swells of his ass, urging him deeper as you implore him wordlessly for more. You want everything, however selfish that may sound. You want it all. Every last piece of him.

This time around, you’re more than grateful that he can read you so well.

Simultaneously, the two boys fiercen their ministrations: Baekhyun, fucking himself into you so hard that the headboard is slamming into the wall; Chanyeol, applying enough pressure to your sensitive clit that your sanity nearly flies out the window. Within seconds, entangled in the staggering heat of their bodies, you come undone.

Damn. Baekhyun wasn’t kidding about showing you the galaxy.

Never in your life have you experienced an orgasm like this. One that tears through your very being like a raging tsunami. You feel it rippling through every cell, igniting every nerve ending in fiery ecstasy.

Baekhyun is barely able to hold himself together as you unravel beneath him, his entire body trembling and sweating with the effort of fighting back his own high, which is threatening to break over him at any given second. The mere sight of you is almost enough to do him in, but he wants to make sure to ride you through yours before he allows himself even a taste of his own. Harder said than done when you look so good and feel ever better, clenching and pulsing around him and god he’s about to lose his fucking mind.

He’s panting and groaning, rolling his hips deeply into yours, keeping himself teetering dangerously on that edge. But it’s you, your voice whimpering his name, your fluttering, teary eyes barely able to keep themselves open looking up at him, that finally breaks him. He bucks into you sharply, hips spluttering, body shaking as he spills himself. It’s sudden and it’s messy and it’s the most goddamn beautiful thing you’ve ever witnessed.

The moment he’s finished, he collapses on top of you, completely out of breath and red in the face; thoroughly fucked out. But that doesn’t stop him from bathing you in whispered praises.

“You’re so amazing. You did so well. You’re so beautiful.”

His words warm your heart, which is just barely beginning to return to a more natural rhythm. They lick the wounds from the nights previous events, soothe the ache that was long forgotten in the thralls of your best friends’ soothing touch.

Baekhyun pulls out of you carefully, and you have to physically stop yourself from pouting at the emptiness and loss of the weight and warmth of his body as he rolls off of you, flopping onto the mattress at your side with a huff of hazy laughter.

“Holy shit,” he murmurs, a dopey smile plastered across his face as he tosses an arm over his eyes, “that was amazing.”

“So fucking amazing.” You emphasize, trying uselessly to catch your breath.

It’s only when you feel something nudging at your opposite hip that you're able to refocus your bleary mind on the unfinished task. You turn, finding the adorable scrunched face of Chanyeol, cheeks red, eyes wanting.

The younger boy chews on his lower lip, swallowing a groan. He’s trying his best not to come off as too desperate, but you see right through him. You see how hard he is, veins thick and throbbing beneath the angry red skin, his flushed tip weeping with precum. Honestly, you’re surprised he hasn’t touched himself yet. It looks like it hurts.

Licking your lips, you can’t help but to wonder what he might taste like, how he’d feel against your tongue, the kinds of sounds he’d make when his body was overwhelmed with pleasure. You bet he’s loud when he comes. Fuck, that deep, raspy voice would sound so good moaning your name.

… perhaps you are feeling just a little greedy.

“Yeol,” he snaps to attention at the wispy call of his name, inhaling sharply when your fingers graze his thigh, “come here.”

He blinks in confusion, not understanding what you want him to do. Recognizing the lost puppy dog look, you chuckle before elaborating in far more blunt terms to avoid further misunderstanding;

“I want you to fuck my mouth.”

If he were to open his eyes any wider, you were certain they’d fall straight out of his head. “I– I can’t– you just—” he stutters clumsily, shaking his head, but you can feel his body practically trembling in excitement at the implication of your words.

“Please. You’ve been so good for me. I wanna make you feel good, too, baby.” You coo, tugging at his knee once more before leaning up to graze your lips over the shell of his flushed ear. “Let me make you feel good, Yeolie.”

He shivers violently, a strangled moan breaking from his swollen mouth, and you smirk to yourself, knowing you’ve got him. He seems nervous as he pushes himself up and crawls to kneel next to your head before hesitating, blinking as he tries to figure the right way to position himself.

He’s cute when he’s concentrating.

“Like this—” you chime in. Chanyeol gasps and flushes a deep red when you guide him forward until his knees are on either side of your head, his hard length swinging proudly above your nose.

Reaching up, you take his large hands in yours, interlacing your fingers. “If I tap on the back of your hand—” you demonstrate, “it means stop, okay? You have to stop immediately when I do that because I won’t be able to speak.”

He nods, expression serious, “I understand. I’ll stop if you tap on my hand.”

“Good,” you pause, a gentle smile upturning the corners of your mouth, “I trust you.”

His breath hitches. “Thank you.”

Instead of responding, you tip your chin up and trace your tongue over the underside of his cock. His hips stutter forward, a surprised moan escaping him at the unexpected contact.

“Stop teasing and feed her your cock, Chanyeol. Can’t you see how bad she wants it?” Baekhyun chuckles mockingly, sliding a lithe hand around your jaw and squeezing, forcing your mouth open even wider. Chanyeol looks down at you through blown pupils, chest heaving, lust practically radiating from his every pore. But it’s only when you offer a nod of reassurance and a look that you hope gives of even the faintest of glimpses into your immense desire for this, for him, does he finally move.

With a tenderness only Park Chanyeol could possess in a position such as this, he guides himself between your awaiting lips. You moan unabashedly as the bittersweet taste of him hits your tongue, tipping your chin up to make more of him in. A shuddering moan pulses from his chest, pitched and broken on red bitten lips. The sound is somehow even more beautiful than you imagined.

Languidly, you swirl your tongue around his weeping tip, eliciting a strained whisper of your name as the grip he has on your hands tightens substantially. He offers a slow, shallow thrust, his head dropping forward as his length slides deeper into the warm cavern of your mouth. The pressure of your tongue against the underside of his cock and the heavy reverberations of your soft, encouraging moans invigorate him to set a careful rhythm, hips stroking gently forward.

Your knuckles dig into the messy sheets as he pivots his weight forward, and you quickly relax your jaw when you feel him inching closer to your throat with every thrust. Chanyeol is even more considerate than you thought he’d be, pulling out far enough between steady strokes that you can swallow lungfuls of oxygen before sliding smoothly back in, deeper and deeper each time. Tears pool in the corners of your eyes, mouth straining in order to accommodate his impressive girth. But hell, it’s worth it. Totally worth it.

His breathing became harsh and labored, filling his lungs with sharp, ragged inhales that shudder through the deep cavity of his chest. “F– fuck, y/n,” he groans hoarsely, head dipping as his eyes squeeze shut, “your mouth is— s- so good.”

Your core tightens around nothing at the rasping whimper, the faint caress of his warm breath rousing goosebumps across the damp skin of your belly. The subconscious clenching of your thighs is wholly unintentional, but it does not go unnoticed.

Chanyeol lets out a choked gasp as a hand slides into his hair, his upper body suddenly forced downwards.

“Come on, Yeolie,” Baekhyun coos tauntingly in his ear, “you were the one going on and on about balance. So why don’t you provide some… ‘give and take’, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” he barely whispers, but you still feel a rush of hot breath over your core and moan throatily around his cock. He tenses and shudders in response to the delicious rush of vibrations, tightening his grip on your hands as Baekhyun guides him lower.

Honestly, you aren’t sure at first if you have another one in you. Three orgasms in one night was unimaginable before tonight. Four seemed simply unrealistic. Your poor pussy is still pulsing and trembling from the last. But the moment Chanyeol flicks his tongue over your clit, the most delicate of kitten licks, you know that you do.

This time though, it’s like molten metal boiling in the pit of your stomach, a wholly unfamiliar sensation. Each press of his lips and roll of his tongue fans the fire blazing through your veins. You try your best to keep up, hollowing your cheeks and swirling your tongue, but it’s difficult when it feels like your brain is short circuiting. The pleasure is fiercer, more intense, rolling over you in thick, devastating waves. You’re reduced to little more a moaning, writhing mess beneath him, barely able to keep yourself from choking on his cock.

Chanyeol’s hips buck frantically as your throat constricts, his own ministrations getting rougher and sloppier the closer he gets. You feel his teeth against your clit, then two long fingers slipping through your slicks folds and fucking themselves into your pussy. Baekhyun can only groan hotly at how easily you take his digits, squeezing his opposite hand around the base of his hard dick.

“I’m gonna come,” Chanyeol whimpers hurriedly, “oh fuck I’m gonna come.”

Suddenly, his hips pulse and your bottom lip make contact with the flat of his pelvis. It takes every ounce of control you have over your body to push back your gag reflex, but the way he trembles and breaks above you is undoubtedly worth the strain. A jumbled mess of words tumble from his lips as he comes, though only your name and a select few curses are intelligible between the deep, violent moans that burst from his chest.

Tears fall from the corners of your eyes as he fucks himself into your mouth, motions stuttered and sloppy. But you swallow around him eagerly as he fills your throat with his release, which only serves in prolonging his orgasm until he’s shivering and whining and hell— each sound, each tremble has the coil in your stomach squeezing tighter and tighter.

All the while, Baekhyun’s fingers are loyally exploring your silken walls until he once again discovers that small bundle of nerves that make your head spin. Combined with Chanyeol moaning and growling against your clit— you're a dead woman.

This final orgasm is the equivalent of having a bucket of ice water dumped over your head. Every hair on your body jumps to stand at attention, oxygen suddenly igniting into flames in your lungs. You scream around Chanyeol’s cock, back bowing off the mattress, eyes rolling to the back of your skull. It’s so intense you honestly feel like you might pass out. But it’s so good, too good —fuck, it’s the best you’ve ever had!— and you want to relish in every mind numbing moment.

All at once, Chanyeol is gone from between your lips and you gasp, a rush of cool air like a glass of ice water in the torrid desert flooding into your lungs and soothing the angry blaze.

“Holy shit.”

You’re too gone in the high to make out who the strained whisper had come from, or to notice the sudden substantial amount of wetness painting the insides of your thighs and seeping into the sheets below. Your brain feels thoroughly scrambled, effectively stupefied by the prodigious pleasure and you can do nothing but bask in it.

“Have you ever done that before?” It takes you a few extra seconds to realize that the question is directed at you.

“Hmm?” You hum blearily, not bothering to try and lift your head.

“Squirting,” Baekhyun clarifies, voice thick with wonder, “have you ever done that before?”

“Squirting? No, I’ve never—” your head snaps up, eyes bulging, “I squirted?!”

If the excessive arousal currently coating (and dripping from) Chanyeol’s astonished face and the unusually large wet spot staining the sheets is anything to go by, the answer is a clear yes.

Panic strikes your chest. “Oh my god. Oh my god, I- I am so—”

“Don’t apologize! Don’t you dare apologize.” Baekhyun abruptly cuts you off, splaying a hand over your belly. “That has to be the most— amazing thing I have ever seen. No girl has ever squirted on me before. I’m honestly honored.”

“Baekhyun, please.” You whine, pulling a pillow over your feverish face and snapping your legs shut.

“I’m serious!” He yelps indignantly, tugging the pillow away from you and tossing it to the side despite your noisy complaints. Two strong hands find either of your thighs and pry them apart in spite of your stubborn resistance, revealing the slippery mess you made on the sheets below.

Heat rushes up your neck as Chanyeol falls into position between them like it’s the most natural thing in the entire world and begins licking at your wet skin. The muscles of your thighs shake and tighten uncontrollably under the intimate ministrations, the post orgasm sensitivity extending beyond your core and into each of your limbs.

“Chan,” you whimper remorsefully, clenching your fingers in the duvet, “I can’t. I can’t.”

He smiles against your skin, licks turning into gentle kisses that make your heart flutter and melt in ways it definitely should not in response to your best friend’s big, sweet eyes. Then again— this entire situation is remarkably unconventional in regards to a typical friendship. Not that you’re complaining because really, how could you? Four orgasms? In one night? Unheard of. A part of you wonders if they were actually just trying to kill you.

While Chanyeol bathes you in his limitless affection, Baekhyun vanishes from your side and into the attached bathroom, returning only moments later with a towel saturated with hot water. You hum gratefully as he carefully scrubs away the sheen of sweat and sticky arousal clinging to your skin. And he’s considerate, too? Unbelievable. Un-fucking-believable.

“You guys are going to ruin all other men for me, fucking hell.” You huff out a hoarse chuckle. Chanyeol suddenly flops down beside you, nuzzling his face into the juncture of your shoulder.

“Who needs other men when you have us?” He rebukes, large hand finding yours and intertwining your fingers.

You can honestly find no reason to disagree.

“Guys,” Baekhyun chimes once finished scrubbing you down, “let’s move to Chanyeol’s room. I need to throw these sheets in the washer before they get crusty. Made that mistake once. Never again.”

“I would totally do that but I’m pretty sure my legs are numb.”

“Ain’t no thang, pretty lady. I’ve got you.” Chanyeol chirps gallantly, slipping his arms beneath your legs and back. Before you can make any kind of protest, you’re being swooped off the bed and pressed into a warm chest. Shrieks of laughter peel from your lips as the gentle giant spins, and you throw your arms around his neck just for extra precaution.

“Yeolie,” Baekhyun whines mockingly, stomping his foot childishly as he plasters an exaggerated pout across his face, “you never pick me up and twirl me around like a pretty princess.”

“Sorry, sweetheart,” you tease, extending a leg and pressing your toes against his chest, “only room for one pretty princess in this apartment.”

“Oh, okay. I see how it is.” He scoffs as he stumbles back and falls dramatically back onto the mattress, hand splayed over his heart like you had somehow managed to wound him.

“Speaking of washing,” Chanyeol chirps, glancing down at you, “How does a warm bath sound?”

“Like heaven.” You groan. “Baek, feel free to join us after you're done doing your laundry.” You shoot him a mirthful grin as Chanyeol pivots and carries you out of the room that bears the musky, filthy scent of sex.

“Wait you’re just gonna— but I—“ Baekhyun wavers, looking between your retreating figures and his stupid dirty sheets before letting out a groan of frustration and scurrying after you. “Fuck it. I’m coming, I’m coming!”

“Is your bathtub big enough to fit three people?” You question, gaze landing on Baekhyun’s cute ass as he jogs ahead.

Chanyeol shrugs, humming thoughtfully. “We can squeeze.”

You smile, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“We can definitely squeeze.”

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sunjaesol · 3 years ago

Text

you keep my head from going under

chenford | drabble | post-4x01 | title: bruises // lewis capaldi

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Intellectually, Tim Bradford knew this made sense.

Jackson's death hit everyone hard, but Lucy took the punch. She was his best friend, his roommate, his confidante; a fellow rookie. More than once had Tim heard her jokingly refer to Jackson as her 'little brother', though her sweet tone said otherwise. It wasn't a joke. Lucy and Jackson were family and she just lost her brother.

So, yeah. It didn't take a genius to figure out Lucy needed someone to grieve with, that would understand, that would give her space and closeness and everything in between. Intellectually, Tim deduced he was the right fit for that. Nyla and her weren't super close, Angela was busy with the baby, the weird history with Nolan kept him out of the equation, too. (Tim didn't even begin to question or plow through that one — for his sanity, it was best he never found out.)

Emotionally, however, it was a whole other ball game. Because Lucy wasn't just his friend, or previous rookie, or fellow police officer. She was Lucy. Tim preferred to not linger on the multitudes she contained, but in vulnerable times like these, it was hard not to.

The perfume, a blend of cardemom and roses and citrus, tickling his nose when they hugged. The chime of her laugh every time he sold a joke. Drifting gaze on her pouted lips as she calculated a situation or problem, as though he shouldn't be focusing on the same thing. Her soothing voice, her bravery, her enviable resilience, her strength and smarts and style. Her, her, her. An intoxicating dosis of her as she slept over multiple times a week on the couch, mere feet away from his lonely bedroom.

Safe to say it drove him wild.

He had to remind himself he was a goddamn thirty-six year old man that has fought wars and faced Death every day on the job. He literally underwent an illegal mission to Guatemala to save Angela. But he couldn't keep his cool because the woman he liked slept in the other room? The fuck?

Then again... 'like' might be an understatement. Tim would be a fool if he didn't recognise his feelings for Lucy had grown past a simple infatuation, or prolonged adrenaline rush. Tim loved her.

Which was why he always waited in bed until he heard her alarm softly ring in the other room a bit past seven, listening how she stumbled from the couch to the bathroom, allowing him the limited time to tidy his (her?) couch and prepare breakfast. When she found out the first time, she objected, but his cool exterior and snark quickly shot that discussion down.

Which was why he bought her coffee and lunch more often during their breaks. His stomach twisted inside out with stupid pubescent glee each time her face lit up at the sight of a perfect burger with extra pickle, ordered without having to ask.

Which was why he didn't intercept whenever dudes started asking her out again, though the sympathetic looks of Nyla and Nolan nauseated him plenty. He felt a quiet sense of satisfaction with each rejected man.

Now, Tim didn't toss and turn at the seven fifteen alarm. He waited, he listened to her disappear into the bathroom, he got up and got moving, put on the radio (a music station, since she liked that) and cracked open eggs above a simmering pan. It felt natural. Especially when Lucy emerged in her street clothes and slipped around him to the coffee maker, as if this was a regular morning for them.

Maybe it was.

Pouring her cup, Lucy moved past him to the breakfast bar when he stopped her at the last moment, impulsive.

Her brows raised. "What?"

Before all the bullshit, Isabelle and him had been an easy match. They were made of the same cloth: pragmatic, straightforward, efficient. Though Tim did truly love her, he held different emotions for her than now for Lucy. This felt... insurmountable. Indescribable. His mouth opened and closed, yet nothing in the English language could explain what he experienced each second of the day when he was with her and when he wasn't with her. He felt himself going mad. Tim was in love with Lucy.

Figuring their staring match had gone on too long, he dropped her elbow and crossed his arms instead. "I love you."

Lucy blinked. "W-what?"

Tim caught what he said a beat too late. What the fuck. "Yeah."

"Um... okay." She set her cup down and nervously clutched onto her necklace. Tim felt himself being ripped in all directions by monstrous tides, not being in control rather uncharted territory. "Can- can we talk about this after... work? Please?"

Tim grimaced. "And sit it in the shop together all day? That'll be worse than your last day as boot."

"Well," she sputtered, decidedly taking a step back. "I'm sorry, but you kind of sprung this on me, so..."

"I know," he rushed. "I know that. But you can't deny something is..." God, he hated this. He hasn't done this in years. Mustering the courage, he continued with, "there. You're a good cop, Lucy, you know it, too."

She groaned, exasperated. "Please don't make this about our job."

"I'm out of my depth here, Lucy!" he exclaimed. Frustration rose. "Just- let's finish the conversation now. I can't do it later."

"Can't or won't?"

"Lucy."

Her face steeled in a way he hadn't seen before. Her lips set in a thin line, jaw taut, yet her eyes shimmered with unbridled emotion that only she possessed of. He thought back of the infamous wedding, prior to the abduction, of how beautiful she looked, of her red lips stretched in a teasing smile. He remembered just how great that moment felt, that if he could, he'd prolong it.

"Tim..." she whispered. Her saddened tone held no hint of silver lining, his shoulders dropping with defeat. "We've lost... I can't lose more people that I love."

He latched onto her hands in a snap. Suddenly, the words came to him. "You won't though. You won't lose me."

Lucy shook her head, unshed tears welling, though didn't let go. "You can't promise that. Jackson didn't think he'd die so soon either."

"But is that really the thing that should hold us back? Life is unpredictable. Tomorrow, it could all be over for us."

"Tim."

He smiled. "Lucy."

And then she hugged him. Her arms tightly wrapped around him and he reflexively followed, cradling the back of her head and holding her close. Whatever happened after this, he'd take it; for now, his heart beat in sync with hers and a swooning sense of adoration filled his chest.

"I love you," she whispered in his shirt.

Oh, man. Nothing beat her uttering those sweet words to him. His nose pressed in the crown of her head and let the smile stretch to a beam. "You're never gonna lose me, Chen."

Her chin ticked up and that was all he needed.

A kiss before his morning coffee felt like a good place to start.

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

@alphinias @smolfangirl @tim-lucy

#oh look i did it anyway #chenford #the rookie fanfiction #post 4x01 #otp: save me a dance

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forever-rogue · 4 years ago

Note

I’m so excited that your doing these requests!🥳 could you please do prompt 36 from prompt list 1 with javier please, think I would cry😂💖 Thankyoux

Oh, okay, I see what you’re doing to me here! 🥺😌 Enjoy!

Prompt: 36. “Does he know about the baby?”

Javi x Fem!Reader ; warnings: language, pregnancy

Javier Masterlist

»»————-　♡　————-««

You knocked on Connie and Steve’s door, hesitating for just a moment before opening once you heard her call to you. As soon as you walked into the Murphy’s place, you were overwhelmed with the smell of her delicious cooking. You grinned as you walked in, following the smell of the percolating coffee.

“Good morning,” you grinned at Steve who was setting the table. He looked up and smiled, offering you a small wave. You were just about in the kitchen when you felt a pair of arms wrap tightly around your waist before you were held against a strong chest. His smell immediately overwhelmed your senses as he pressed a few kisses to your bare shoulder; you’d purposely worn a sundress, one you knew he loved just to tease him a little...and for one other very specific purpose - but he wasn’t privy to that just yet, “good morning, Javier.”

“Good morning to you, Dulzura,” he whispered in your ear before pressing a kiss to your cheek, “you had to wear that little dress, didn’t you? You drive me crazy sometimes.”

“Hmmm,” you mused as you hastily pulled out of his grasp before turning to face him and pressing a kiss to his lips, “maybe I like to mess with you...maybe I just really like this dress.”

“You are…” his hands his found purchase on your hips as he gave them a gentle squeeze, kissing along your jaw before stopping at the shell of your ear, his warm breath tickling you, “an absolute little -”

“Hi babe!” Connie beamed when she stuck her head out from the kitchen, her smile stretching from ear to ear, “so glad you made it! Do you mind giving me a hand real quick with finishing up? Javi - let the poor thing breath for a moment.”

Javi sighed dramatically before hanging his head; but you didn’t let him down that easily, instead putting a few fingers under his chin and turning his face up so you could kiss him properly. He instantly lit up at your touch, those soft brown eyes crinkling in the corners as his dimple made its appearance, “te amo, Javier. Now go and help Steve or something. I’m all yours after brunch anyway.”

“Fine,” he pouted as you pushed him in Steve’s direction. You watched him go with a laugh before joining Connie in the kitchen. She just smirked at you, handing you a bowl of fresh fruit to cut up.

The two of you fell into easy conversation, and you thoroughly enjoyed her company. But as you kept chopping away at the fruit, your stomach started to churn more and more with each slice of your knife. When you were halfway through cutting up the mango, you couldn’t handle it anymore and practically threw down the knife as you dashed towards the bathroom. You almost kicked the door open as you got onto your knees and heaved up the contents of your stomach.

Shit. Shit. Shit. You sighed at yourself when you were all done, wiping at the corners of your mouth. You’d thought you’d gotten over this part by now, hoping that it wouldn’t rear its ugly head again - especially not in front of your friends and boyfriend. No - the morning sickness should have been done by now.

“Dulzura?” Javier stepped into the small bathroom and shut the door behind him, immediately dropping to his knees next to you. Flushing the toilet, you turned to him and put on the most innocent face you could. He grabbed your face gently in his hands, brushing a thumb over your cheek as he studied you intently, “what happened? Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine, Javi,” you promised him softly as you put your hands on his wrists and gave them a gentle squeeze. Although you were sure that the average person would have easily believed your little lie, Javier was no average man and he was able to easily see through your white lie. You sighed heavily before pulling his hands from your face and moving to stand up, “please don’t worry about me, it’s probably something I ate.”

“I do worry,” he insisted, just as firmly, as you turned on the tap and stuck your head under it to swish your mouth with water, “it’s my job-”

“Your job is to be my boyfriend,” you spit out the cold water, “and to trust me when I say everything is fine. One little upset stomach is nothing to worry about, Javier Peña. You have enough to worry about, don’t worry about this one too.”

“Fine,” he held up his hands in defeat, but you could tell that he wasn’t going to let this one go; for now probably, but forever, “but-"

"If it happens again, you'll be the first to know mi amor," you promised him, "now go and finish up with Steve and I'll finish the fruit."

Javier gave your hand a squeeze before slowly making his way out of the bathroom, with you quickly following on his kneel. Before he walked back over to Steve while you rejoined Connie in the kitchen.

She'd taken it upon herself to finish cutting up the fruit, but a knowing little look was on her face. You walked back over without saying a word, fully intending on not mentioning a word, but just like Javier, Connie was sharp and perceptive and wouldn't let it go. You'd surrounded yourself with a particular type of person and right now you were regretting intensely.

"Does he know about the baby?" she whispered under her breath as you stilled in your motions. Your breath hitched in your throat as you slowly met her eyes, wanting to cry at the little smirk on her face.

"I-I-I…don't know what you're talking about," you lied lamely, more so wondering if she would go along with what you were saying or call your bluff.

"Honey," she gave you an almost pitying look, "you just had a bout of morning sickness and you're starting to show. I've seen the old dress trick tons of times."

"How did you know that's what it was?" you asked in a rushed whisper. She was a nurse...of course she'd know.

"Randomly throwing up at the smell of food? And it's not the first time - it's happened not infrequently over the past two months," she stated as you groaned, "just because those two are oblivious, doesn't mean I am."

"Fine," you hissed quietly, making sure that Javier and Steve weren't paying attention, "how can you tell I'm showing?! I thought it wasn't...obvious yet."

"Not to the untrained eye," she admitted, "I'm guessing you just started to pop? You've been wearing looser clothes lately… I'm guessing...16 weeks?"

"14 weeks...shit Con," you sighed softly, "I...I've been too obvious! I haven't...I haven't told Javier! I haven't found the right time and I've been so nervous and I-I-I...just I'm scared, Con. What if…"

"No what ifs, honey," she said softly as she put her arm around and pulled you into a hug, "you need to tell Javier. He deserves to know...and I know you're scared, but you know how much he loves you and this won't change anything. You've turned Javier into the best version of him - he adores you. But you have to tell him...besides you're not going to be able to hide it much longer…"

"Fuck!" you whined softly.

"Just tell him," she stated firmly, "you have to tell Javier."

"Tell me what?" Javier and his impeccable timing struck again as he walked into the kitchen and grinned at the two of you. You exchanged a nervous look with her before turning back to him.

"How much I love you," you swallowed nervously before grinning at him with the best smile you could muster up, "which is a lot whole, mi amor."

He opened his mouth to say something, but you cut him off with a kiss. Javier made a small sound but said nothing, instead giving you another kiss.

»»————-　♡　————-««

"What's wrong, Dulzura?" Javier asked as he pulled you into his lap; you had stiffened immediately upon his touch. As soon as you'd gotten back to his apartment, he was all over you, his touch was like fire and he was all consuming. It had been easy to get lost in his touch, the feel of his lips on yours, his large hands roaming your body.

But as soon as he had led you back to his bedroom and he flopped down on the bed and pulled you into him - sheer panic set in.

"N-nothing," you lied as you stood up and took a step back. A look of confusion crossed his features as you tried to keep it together, "just tired…"

"Okay," he sighed softly before running a hand over his face, "what the hell is going on? You've been acting off all day…"

"Nothing…"

"Dulzura."

"Javier, you're worrying over nothing again."

"You won't even let me touch you," he sighed lightly, "if you don't want me to let me know. We don't have to do anything…"

"I do, Javier...I'm just tired."

"Bullshit…"

"Javi…"

"You can tell me anything, Dulzura. I love you, you know that."

"I-"

"Anything at all."

"I-"

"Nothing will ever change that I love you."

"I'm pregnant."

It came out as an almost shout as you finally plucked up the courage to just say it. Javier's jaw dropped as he immediately looked at your stomach and then back at your face. A million different emotions flickered over his features as he tried to figure out what was happening.

Oh, he'd heard you - he just couldn't come to terms with it.

"What?" he said softly as he met your eyes. His eyes were glossy as he tried to figure out if it was true, "Dulzura...what did you say?"

"I...I...I'm pregnant," you whispered softly, your own eyes starting to prick and burn. Slowly, you reached for the hem of your dress, pulling it up as gently as you watched his reaction. He sucked in his breath as he watched your stomach become revealed to him. It was small, still barely evident, but it was there - the sweetest of bumps, "I...I should have told you sooner, Javier. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…"

"Why are you sorry?" his eyes were practically twinkling as his lips trembled slightly. He stood up and came over, a hand gingerly going to your stomach as he paused to see if you would stop. But you didn't - you let him put his hand on your belly before putting your own on top of his, "our baby...how far…"

"14 weeks," you said nervously as he nodded, trying to keep it together and not completely lose his mind, "I found out about 6 weeks ago and I-I-I panicked so much and I kept trying to figure out the perfect time to tell you and I keep not. I'm so sorry for that, Javier. You deserved to know sooner...and I completely understand if you don't want...anything to do with me or the baby."

"Why would you think I wouldn't want anything to do with…" he paused as he looked up and met your eyes, his free hand moving to your cheek, as you keened in to his touch, "did you think I was going to be mad...leave?"

"No," you admitted honestly, "I just didn't know what you'd...think. I'm scared and nervous and I didn't know what to do, and I just kept not telling you. And we didn't plan for a baby, I mean...its a mess."

"I love you," he whispered before kissing your forehead, "and - fuck - a few years ago I didn't think I'd ever love someone again or be in this situation. And now...I'm scared, don't get me wrong, absolutely terrified. But I am...I'm excited. This is...you...I love you."

"I'm scared too," your lips trembled, but in a quick measure of reassurance, he pressed a kiss to your lips in a sweet, gentle manner, "its a baby, Javier. What if-"

"Dulzura," he whispered softly, "I know there are a ton of things to think about - but I promise you this - it will be okay, we will be okay. I'm not going anywhere and I will protect you and the baby, and fuck - I'm happy. Scared but happy."

"Yeah?" you asked softly, not hesitating to throw your arms around his neck and holding him tightly, "I love you, Javier. More than you will ever know."

"I love you too," he kissed the crown of your head as he gently rubbed your back in soothing circles. He held you silently for some time, letting you get your soft cries, these ones not of worry or sadness but nervous happiness out, "can I ask you something?"

"Anything."

"How did I never...notice? What if I hadn't found out and you'd gotten bigger?" he chuckled warmly as you snorted with laughter.

"Well, I've been keeping the lights off," you reminded him and he made a sound of 'oh yeah', "and this little bit just seemed to pop out the last few days...I don't know...I guess I would have blamed...bloating?"

"You are too much," he laughed as you gave him a sheepish look, "do me a favor?"

"Of course."

"Next time, just tell me as soon as you know," he insisted gently, "I...I want this - to be a part of this - and to experience it all with you."

"Next time?" you quirked an eyebrow gently, "you presume there's a next time?"

"Maybe…" he grinned with a cheeky smirk, "but seriously, Dulzura - I'm happy, scared, but happy. And I love you, always."

"I love you too," you promised, "con todo."

"I know," he whispered, "now - will you let me show you how much?"

"Javier…"

»»————-　♡　————-««

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#Javier peña #javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #narcos #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #javier pena #javier pena x you #forever-rogue's follower celebration

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blackbat05 · 3 years ago

Text

Day by Day

Shangqi x Reader

A/N: My love for this man has hit an all time high so let me capitalize on it while I still can! If you read everything, I sincerely thank you for doing so!!! And holy cow 2 fics in 2 days have I gone back into my prime days?

Genre: PG-13

Notes: As the title mentioned, I’ll probably set it some time after endgame. You could see it as a prequel to my first post! Reader is a social worker and she’s just dealing with all the mess that the snap bought back. The reader’s name as Jen Lee. I also apologize in advance for the potentially long fic.

***

‘Excuse me, I’m looking for my child? Her name’s Wang Yiman and she’s seven.’ Another frazzled-looking parent fought her way to the front of the receptionist, approaching the helpless intern who looked like she was going to be on the verge of tears if another request came in.

‘I got this,’ a hand calmly reassured the young intern as she beckoned the relief parent. ‘Mrs Wang? My name is Jen Lee and I’m the social worker here.’ I offered my hand for the anxious mother. ‘Oh thank god! Is Yiman ok? She must have been so scared!’ I slowed to a stop outside the room at the end of the corridor, gently sitting her down.

‘Yiman has been a very brave girl Mrs Wang, but I will not lie to you. The sudden disappearance of their parents has traumatized a lot of kids. We’ve managed to explain to them what was going on but they will need a lot of support.’ I gave a glance over Mrs Wang’s shoulder, nodding to my colleague, Tammy who was holding the hand of a little girl in pigtails and a floral dress.

妈妈! mā ma (mommy!)

The young girl ran into her mother’s open arms, allowing the floodgates to open from both ends. I turn to Tammy as we shared a silent agreement to leave the area. ‘That’s the last one for the day,’ Tammy unceremoniously plops herself onto the chair, letting out a groan. ‘Thanks for your hard work Jen.’

‘Right back at you.’ I entered the last bit of paperwork before uploading Yiman’s case file onto the portal. Yiman’s reunion with her parents meant the Children and Youth Centre were halfway in getting every displaced child back to their parents. Looking at the dingy television that was hung on the walls at the waiting room, despite not being able to hear anything, it didn’t take a genius to figure out what was going on. S.W.O.R.D was apparently in a stand-off against Wanda Maximoff? Reported rumors that Sam Wilson didn’t want anything to do with the shield? It’s been a crazy few weeks but that was utter-

‘Bullshit! If anything it’s the government. They must have psyched him into giving up the shield.’ My chair swiveled to face Tammy who returned a nonchalant shrug. ‘What? You know I’m right. Doesn’t matter if half the world’s gone or our universe gets split into two - they’re the true evil here. I’m still struggling to find a place after I found a couple making out in my apartment! And you know what the global repatriation council told me? We’re only dealing with urgent cases right now. Well I say f-’

The incessant ringing of the bell interrupted our conversation, replacing Tammy’s tirade into a cheeky grin. ‘Look who’s here!’

Shangqi stands behind the counter, dressed in his usual red varsity jacket and jeans, holding bags of what I could only make out as takeout from the Chinese restaurant that was run by a friendly Singaporean couple. ‘Did I interrupt something?’ He scratches his head nervously. ‘Nope, in fact you just saved me from Tammy’s monologue, any further and she’ll explicitly tell me what she saw in her apartment when she got dusted back that day,’ I shivered in mock fear. ‘Still haunts me up till today.’ Tammy meets us by the door, bag in her hand.

‘I thought you were staying? We got fried dumplings and 泡饭 pào fàn (poached rice).’

‘Last minute duty - A parent called, gotta run! Enjoy your dinner date.’ She waggles her eyebrows suggestively, much to our embarrassment. ‘What? It’s not...’ Shangqi stutters, trying to form intelligible sentences. ‘Get out before I throw a fried dumpling at your face Tammy!’ She winks at me, before darting out of the door. Once my nosy colleague was out, I turn towards a red-faced Shangqi. ‘I’m so sorry... just don’t mind her.’

‘Huh?’ The man was knocked out of his stupor. ‘Oh yeah... sure,’ in an attempt to forget everything that had just happened, he opened the packets of fried dumplings. ‘Ready for war?’

‘I was born ready.’

Thirty-five minutes later, all that was left were the remnants of fried dumplings and three empty containers.

‘This should be illegal,’ I patted my stomach in satisfaction to his amusement. ‘Laugh at yourself! You lost track of how many dumplings you had and ended up taking my share!’

Raising his hands in defeat, Shangqi starts to clear the table up. ‘So how’s the center? Everything alright?’ I nodded numbly.

The past five years had been a blur. Hazy, even. All I remembered was a kid running into the office telling me that half of the staff disappeared during a school holiday program that we were running with a dozen other kids. Parents who survived the snap rushed to our center, demanding to see their children. We couldn’t give them any answer as we too, were equally perplexed. Maybe the only thing that made sense was Shangqi and Katy bursting into the center to help us with the chaos.

Coming back from what could be the 1000th phone call, I got a glimpse in the children’s playroom where the five years old kids were at, treating myself to an amusing sight. They all had red cloths draped around their neck, each holding a stick that was from the abandoned prop box. Katy wasn’t spared to as she was wearing her own red cloth that seemed a few sizes to small for her. Not that she didn’t seem to mind.

‘Alright my warriors! Chargeeeeee!!!!!!’

In unison, little pairs of feet pattered across the room towards their ‘enemy’, a cardboard cutout of a monstrous creature who was really just Shangqi in disguise.

‘RAWR! I’ll eat anyone who stands in my way!’ He stands up, mimicking a dinosaur that was about to trample an entire city. I decided that the paperwork could wait, standing near the door to watch an Oscar-worthy performance. With great effort and bravery from the kids, they finally managed to take down 5 foot 10 worth of muscle.

‘Again! Again!’

I chuckled upon seeing Shangqi on the floor, about to drift off into wonderland. It was time for me to step in. ‘Alright kids that’s enough for today! Dinner’s here.’ As the kids dispersed with the help of Katy, it was just the two of us left to clear up the mess. ‘Thank you so much, both of you. I honestly can’t think of what would happen if you guys didn’t come to help.’

Perhaps my body language was screaming ‘I’m dead tired, please just knock me out’ as Shangqi takes a cloth from me, folding it back into the box. ‘It’s what we would have done, this place, it means a lot to us - to me.’

A small knock on the door diverts our attention away from the trash. Little Yiman stands at the door, as she stares at the both of us with big round eyes.

‘Yiman, it’s late, what are you doing here?’ I squat down to her eye level. The little girl beams, ‘ 妈妈 said that I could give this to you!’ She passes me a juice box together with a handmade card with colorful scribbles. Maybe I was carrying too much on my shoulders, as I suddenly felt a boulder lifted off me. ‘Thank you,’ I smile at her sweetly, ‘I love apple juice.’ Happy with the response, she runs to Shangqi. ‘Shangqi 哥哥 gē ge (brother)!’

He breaks out into a smile, opening his arms wide. Yiman nuzzles her head into his shoulder before breaking out into uncontrollable giggles from his sudden attack of tickles. ‘Are you hear to help Miss Jen?’ I took the trash from his hands, giving him some time with the girl.

‘Yes I am. Miss Jen needs some help so I’m here today!’

‘Are you her boyfriend?’

Shangqi freezes on the spot. He had undergone what could be the toughest training by his father, fought the greatest assassins in the world and here he was - stumped by a question from a seven year old. ‘Well... I’m her close friend since when we were very young,’ Yiman looks at him expectantly. ‘She helped me when I was in trouble so I had to be a good friend when she was in trouble too.’

‘Like how Ningning helped me when I injured my knee?’

‘Yeah... something like that.’ He breathes a sigh of relief, thankful to escape his first crisis. Honestly, he wasn’t even sure if he was telling himself the truth.

‘Yiman! Your mother’s here!’ The little girl gives him one last hug before running to the waiting room. Shangqi takes a moment to recollect himself. ‘Here I am thinking that you finally managed to have some stamina while interacting with young children, maybe I was wrong.’ I teased as I sat beside him.

‘Har har, hilarious.’ He tosses me a straw for our peach teas, as we were greeted by the amazing night view of San Francisco. ‘Enough about me, you good though?’ Looks like he didn’t forget the conversation that was cut off earlier. My mind goes back to a few minutes earlier, eavesdropping on the conversation.

‘I had to be a good friend when she was in trouble too.’

Life has been so unpredictable, I don’t even want to think too far into the future. With appearances from more superpowered beings, I don’t know what’s real anymore.

‘Yeah. To be honest, it’s been so crazy and overwhelming but I’ll get through it. I have you don’t I?’ Giving him a wink, I slowly sipped on the sweetness of the tea, savoring the pearls. He pauses for a moment, nodding thoughtfully.

Life isn’t the same as it was before. But maybe, just maybe... if I had Shangqi, I’ll take each day on one at a time. Day by day.

[END]

A/N: Hoho! I literally spent the whole afternoon writing because I just had to get this idea out and also because work was pretty slow today. I have no idea what is up with my first two fics hinting at unrequited love? I guess I got inspired by Shangqi’s and Katy’s platonic relationship because I thought it was so well written but I also love Shangqi so I guess is a compromise kinda thing. Again, do like and comment if you wish! Really thankful that y’all have been so kind to me so far!

Perhaps I’ll try my hand at shorter ones like headcannons before this girl exhausts herself out and I don’t want to do that because I believe I have more to show!

#xu shangqi #shangqi imagine #shangqi x reader #katy shang chi #shang chi #shang chi x reader

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queen-haq · 3 years ago

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Fic: A Woman Scorned - Part 16

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Rating: R for language and smut.

Words: ~3100 words.

Summary: You’ve been sleeping with Billy Russo for a few months now. Knowing his aversion to emotional commitments, you’re satisfied with your clandestine arrangement until you catch him having dinner with Dinah Madani one night. Then it finally dawns on you. It’s not that he doesn’t want to commit, he just doesn’t want to commit to *you*.

Billy may think he knows you, but he has no idea what he’s just lost…

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15

gif credit: @benbarnxs

Part 16

You were straddling Billy, riding him, your hips undulating atop his body. His fingers tightly gripped your waist, getting ready to take charge so you were underneath him, but you refused to submit. Instead you grabbed his hands and pinned it above his head. As you hovered above him, he arched up to kiss you but you shifted back, instead staring down at him intently. He growled at you before he rolled over unexpectedly, taking you along with him.

As he thrust into you, harder and rougher each time, you began to slide off the bed. In your new position, you caught sight of Adam on the floor. His corpse was wrapped up in a rug, only his head sticking out-

“Hey.” Billy pulled you up so you were now sitting across his lap, facing him. “Look at me. Only me.”

Only a few seconds ago he was biting you as you clawed at him, both of you desperate to possess each other. Your movements had been savage, animalistic even, but now Billy was kissing you languidly, his hand brushing the back of your hair while the other settled on the small of your back. You were directing the rhythm of the thrusts now, setting a slower pace so you could fully enjoy the feel of his cock stretching your insides oh-so-tantalizingly. Your forehead braced against his, you closed your eyes and lost yourself to the flood of emotions that overcame you.

***

It was after midnight. Billy had come home with you and both of you were in bed, you nestled against him while he spooned you from behind. Even though you were tired, you couldn’t sleep. Your brain was working overtime processing everything that happened in the last few hours. He stirred next to you, dropping a tender kiss on your bare shoulder.

“What’s wrong?” he murmured. You may have been fully alert but he sounded absolutely exhausted.

“Are you sure they’ll be thorough with the cleaning?”

“Yeah.” Throwing his arm over you, he covered your hand with his. “These guys are not amateurs. They know what they’re doing. There won’t be any traces of us left in that room.”

“And Adam’s body-”

“Will be disposed of.”

“But how do you know you can trust these guys? What’s stopping them from blackmailing-”

“’cause money talks, babe. That crew is very well paid.” He squeezed your palm. “I’ve used them in the past. No trouble yet.”

With his military career you were already aware of his violent past, but you also sensed he had a long hit list aside from that. When he’d realized your plans for Adam, he hadn’t been remotely shocked at the idea of you killing another person. In fact, as you stabbed Adam repeatedly, Billy had looked at you with such pride and reverence that it had left you breathless.

“What we did tonight, you know what that means, don’t you?”

His voice brought you out of your reverie. You exhaled a deep breath, drawing circles on his palm. “That we’re bad people.”

“No, we’re survivors. We take down anyone who gets in our way.”

“He didn’t come after you,” you reminded him. “You didn’t have to get involved.”

He turned you around to face him. “Nobody threatens you and gets to live after that.”

Your heart pounded in your chest. When he looked at you with such intensity, you were almost ready to believe anything.

He cradled your face, his thumb caressing your bottom lip. “We’re connected now. Forever. Because of tonight.”

You didn’t understand how his words could evoke such conflicting emotions within you. On one hand your stomach fluttered with excitement, he was saying things you’d wanted to hear for a long time, but then there was the fear. Doubt. Uncertainty. You forced a smile, hoping some levity would lighten the situation. “You make it sound like we’re married or something.”

Disgust flooded over his face. “Fuck, no. Marriages end. One day you’re bragging about being in love, next it’s all over. It’s not based on anything real. But we are.” He reached for your hand, which was resting on the pillow between you and him, and intertwined his fingers through yours. “I saw you tonight, the real you. And you saw me. No pretenses, no boundaries. And you didn’t run. You didn’t even flinch.”

“Neither did you.” You lifted your eyebrow. “You were rock hard.”

“I always am around you.”

His words made the heat rise in your cheeks, which he noticed right away. Giving you a teasing smile, he leaned in closer to give you a peck on the cheek. “Are you blushing?”

“Shut up.”

Billy’s eyes remained locked on you, simply staring at you with sleepy eyes. “I don’t like who I was when I thought I lost you. I couldn’t eat, couldn’t work. Every time I closed my eyes I imagined you fucking this other guy, kissing him. Even the thought of you talking to him made me want to burn it all down.”

Your heart ached at how tired he looked. Scooting closer, you started massaging his forehead. When he closed his eyes, you dropped a gentle kiss on each of his eyelids, the beauty mark just below his right eye, before snuggling him tightly in your arms. “Sleep, Billy.”

“You’ll be here when I wake up?” he murmured drowsily.

You smiled. “It is my apartment.”

He didn’t respond, already fast asleep. You tried to do the same but couldn’t; there were too many thoughts running around in your brain. You had assumed you’d feel guilty about taking a life; you didn’t. You remembered the vicious, contemptuous anger in Adam’s eyes when he’d held you at gunpoint, and how he’d threatened to kill others in your team, and all you felt was relief. Relief that he was dead and no longer a danger to you.

Billy stirred next to you, drawing your attention. You reached out to hold him, your touch feather-light so as not to wake him up. He looked calm and peaceful, unlike the haunted and distraught way he appeared earlier in the hotel room. It was still hard to digest that he’d been so unhinged at the thought of losing you. But the thing that resonated with you the most was that he hadn’t been able to hurt you despite all of the anger he’d felt. Growing up the way you had, you were always on alert for things to turn violent at any moment. One wrong comment or an innocent gesture - hell even a lone pair of sock on the floor - had the potential to trigger your father’s temper and turn things violent. During those moments his rage was uncontrollable, and as a result you always worried about how people reacted when they were furious. The fact that Billy hadn’t hit you even though he’d been completely enraged made you realize you were physically safe with him.

Maybe emotionally as well. For so long you’d had difficulty believing he could reciprocate your feelings yet you couldn’t ignore how devastated he’d been. Nor could you rationalize away his emotions. It still felt surreal but he did truly care about you, and the thought filled you with warmth and made your heart soar with happiness.

You brushed your lips against his, hoping Billy’s comforting presence next to you would help you relax. However, fifteen minutes later sleep still alluded you. Eventually you decided to do something useful and work instead. Carefully sliding out of bed so you didn’t disturb him, you tip-toed out of the bedroom. Immediately you felt the soreness in your body, an after effect of the rough sex you had with Billy in the hotel room earlier. Grabbing a nearby throw, you were soon nestled in your favourite spot on the chaise lounge, working away on your laptop.

An hour later you heard footsteps behind you and you turned around to find Billy yawning, clad in boxers, his hair all ruffled.

“Why aren’t you in bed?” he grumbled.

You scooted over to give him space to sit on the chaise but he seemed to have other ideas in mind as he took a seat behind you. You found yourself settled between his legs, your back nestled against his chest, as he caressed down the length of your arms.

“I couldn’t sleep. Figured I might as well do something useful.”

“What corporate shit are you working on?” he teased, playfully grabbing your laptop to look at your screen. You smacked his arm right away, shutting the screen and pushing the laptop away.

Billy purposely rubbed his face against the base of your neck and you started giggling at the sensation of his prickly beard on your bare skin. “Stop,” you whined. “It tickles.” you squealed loudly, trying to jump out of his arms but he held you in a tight grip.

Finally he stopped, and as you struggled to catch your breath, you slapped his arm playfully. “You’re such a jerk.”

He chuckled, hugging you tightly from behind. “That’s for ignoring all my calls since Tuesday.”

“I’m still not unblocking your number,” you retorted. His beard scraped along your shoulder, making you squeal again. “Okay, fine. Sorry!”

“Swear that you’re not gonna block me again.”

You turned around in his arms, resting on your knees as your arms looped around his neck. Smiling down at him, you nuzzled your nose with his. “Swear that you won’t act like an asshole again.”

“Can’t really do that.”

“Exactly.” He tucked your hair behind your ear. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach at the tender affection on his face, the warmth of his gaze spreading slow, languid heat throughout your body. “You should go back to bed. You still look tired.”

“I’ve had a rough week.”

You pouted your lips. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“Want to make it up to me?” he asked, cocking his eyebrow at you.

”How? By sucking you off?” you teased, running your fingers through his hair.

“Move in with me.”

Your hands stilled on him, finding it hard to breathe all of a sudden. At first you thought he was joking but the solemn expression on his face made you realize otherwise. You moved away, putting much needed distance between the two of you.

“That’s not funny, Billy.”

Maintaining a rigid posture on the chaise lounge, he shrugged his shoulders. “Not meant to be. I’m dead serious.”

“You know that’s ridiculous, right?”

“Why? ‘cause I wanna keep you safe?”

“The threat is gone. I took care of it.”

“We took care of it,” he said pointedly. “A threat which you didn’t even tell me about.”

“I explained that to you already.” Feeling defensive, you started pacing the floor. “You promised you’d have your guy stop tailing me.”

“Sure. As soon as I know you’re not gonna keep things from me again. You moving in will help with that.”

“So if I don’t move in, you’ll have me followed 24/7?” Anger surged through you, you were so furious you wanted to scream. “That’s fucking blackmail.”

“Relax. No need to be so dramatic about it.”

You grabbed the closest cushion you had and flung it at him, enraged by his patronising tone. “We barely know each other-”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he interjected, finally moving to stand up. His eyes were pitch black, his jaw clenched. “You and I killed someone tonight! You took my hand, my knife, and we stabbed the bastard in the heart with it, together. We fucked while he drew his last breath and now you’re feeding me this bullshit?” He stormed towards you. “No! I’ve seen your darkness and you’ve seen mine. There’s no one else in this world that knows us better than we know each other.”

You shook your head, flabbergasted by his reaction. “This is insane. I can’t move in with you. We haven’t even gone out on a real date because you said I was boring!”

“If you believe that then you really are a fucking idiot!”

You stiffened, his words ringing in your ear. Fucking idiot. Something your father used to call you repeatedly, his tone full of hate and vitriol when he lashed out at you. It started with a fucking idiot then spiralled into bitch and whore and everything else hurtful under the sun. You swore to yourself you’d never accept being spoken to like that by another person yet here you were, being insulted again by someone who was supposed to care about you.

You retreated back from Billy, careful to keep your distance from him, and leveled him with a cold glance. “Don’t you ever talk to me like that again.”

Your voice may have been deceptively calm but there was a storm brewing inside you. You desperately needed some space. As you moved away from Billy and headed to the kitchen, he tried to block your path but you immediately pushed him away. “Don’t touch me!”

You quickly sidestepped past him and entered the kitchen, heading for the cabinet where you kept your bottle of whiskey. Pouring yourself a glass, you slowly sipped the liquid to soothe your frayed nerves and forget the memories Billy had just unleashed in you.

***

Even as the words left his mouth, Billy knew he’d made a mistake. He regretted what he said instantly, even more so when he realized how much the words had stung you. The last thing he wanted was to cause you pain but he couldn’t seem to help himself. The more he tried to hold on to you the more you slipped through his fingers.

After giving you a few minutes to calm down, he entered the kitchen behind you. You were standing in the opposite corner, drinking the hard stuff, which further signalled how shaken you were. Billy knew Scotch wasn’t something you enjoyed, you only drank it when you were messed up.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I shouldn’t have said that. It won’t happen again. I swear.”

You didn’t acknowledge him, and it hurt like hell.

“When I think about you pulling away from me, it makes me lose my mind.” He swallowed audibly, desperately trying to get through to you. “I’m all in when it comes to us but it feels like you always have one foot out the door.” He took hesitant steps towards you while your eyes still remained on the countertop, refusing to meet his gaze. “I keep fucking up but I’ve never felt this way before. I don’t know what I’m doing. I just can’t lose you, Y/N.”

“I’m not built like you, Billy,” you finally spoke, turning to look at him. “I have doubts. I’m constantly dealing with insecurities. It takes me time to trust people, and I just can’t rush into things head-on.”

“And I’m someone who hustles. I go after everything I want with guns blazing. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have Anvil.”

“But I’m not a thing, Billy. I’m a person, and you can’t push me into doing stuff I’m not ready for.”

He exhaled a resigned sigh. “I know. It’s ‘cause I get paranoid when it comes to you. You’re a closed book and you never tell me anything.” His eyes scanned yours, his stomach clenched with anxiety. “I don’t even know how you feel about me.” It was the first time he’d voiced that thought, something he didn’t even realize he felt until this very moment. You wanted him, that he knew, and you’d even confessed you loved him once but he didn’t really believe in that bullshit. What mattered to him was if you needed him as much as he did you. The idea of not having you in his life drove him insane, but did you feel the same way? He didn’t think so and it bothered the fuck out of him.

You set your glass down on the counter before reaching out to cradle his face, your soulful eyes meeting his emotional gaze. “I want to be with you, Billy. I like you so much that it scares me.”

Your words brought with them a tidal wave of relief that swept over him like a calm breeze. It was like he could breathe again. He pulled you close, his forehead against yours as he simply held you. “Don’t be scared, babe. I don’t bite.”

“That is a complete fucking lie,” you retorted. “I still have the marks from earlier to prove it.” Your smile faded again as you held his stare. “But I need you to be patient with me. You can’t bully me or get mad if I don’t want to rush into things.”

He nodded his head. “I won’t.”

“I’ve only ever had myself to rely on. And the thought of trusting you? Relying on you? It scares the hell out of me. Because there’s always a voice in my head that’s reminding me I need to go back to being alone when we end things.”

“I need to kill that voice.”

You chuckled, reaching out to loop your arms behind his back. “It shuts up eventually. It did in the hotel room when I saw how fucked up you were without me. That’s when it sunk in you actually do like me.”

“It took you that long to believe it?”

You gave him a sad smile. “Yeah. You did tell me I was boring.”

He groaned right away, regret washing over him. He should never have said those fucking words to you. “You’re not boring. You’re smart. And hot.” He kissed your left cheek. “And sweet. And funny. And mine.” Then the right cheek. “And when you lecture me about cybersecurity, I get so hard.”

“Whatever. You’re the one who wanted to know more about the topic,” you grumbled.

He grinned, giving you a tender peck on the lips. “I can listen to you talk for hours and hours-“

“Shut up.” You pressed your palm over his mouth.

Wrapping his arms around you, he lifted you off the ground and started carrying you back to the bedroom. “Forever actually, if you’re naked.”

“Not once have I lectured you naked.”

He dropped you on the bed. “Yeah, exactly. Time you start.” He jumped into bed, rubbing his beard on your face again as you started squealing.

A few minutes later you were both panting for air, staring up at the ceiling. “Just to make it clear, I’m not moving in,” you huffed through laboured breaths.

He turned to look at you, smirking. “Fine, but I’m taking you out tonight. Proper date and all.”

The most beautiful smile graced your face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You were a ray of sunshine beaming up at him and Billy’s heart felt so full he worried it would explode. If he could, he’d freeze this moment forever.

Part 17

A/N - As always, your wonderful feedback is what keeps me inspired to write and post consistently. I was initially nervous about this chapter because the characters experience a gamut of emotions but it was necessary. I hope you like and enjoy this chapter. Feedback, as always, is very much appreciated and feeds my soul :)

Tag list:

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#billy russo x reader #billy russo #ben barnes #the punisher #the punisher fanfiction #a woman scorned

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babybluebex · 4 years ago

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desperate hearts (and bodies) [sebastian stan] NSFW!!

➽ pairing: sebastian stan x fem!reader (y/n) ➽ word count: 2.5k ➽ summary: while watching his new movie, sebastian makes a deal with you: you’ll watch the movie until the credits roll, or else. ➽ warnings: NSFW/MDNI. explicit language, smut, fingering (f!receiving), teasing, slight dom!seb ➽ a/n: i have no logical explanation for this, so just have it lol

It took a lot of convincing to have Sebastian watch one of his movies. He hated seeing himself work and, ever the perfectionist, found apparent flaws in his performance that neither the director nor editors had “managed” to find. He was against it at first, but, when I told him that I was too scared to watch his new movie The Covenant alone, he agreed. This man was such a pushover. We had known each other since high school when we paired together as scene partners for our school’s drama department. Seb was a senior when I was a freshman and we always got along, albeit at a casual distance. It wasn’t until we were in college together and I was randomly assigned him as a student mentor that we grew close, eventually kissing and fucking and revealing our long-boiling feelings.

We had been together for nearly two years by this point, and I had seen him through every single professional role. When we reunited, he had just had a small role on Law and Order, and he had only gone up from there. The Covenant was the first horror-type movie he had ever done, and I had gotten a basic-enough synopsis from him for me to avoid it. However, being the dutiful girlfriend that I was, I wanted to support him and watch it, and that’s where the begging came in.

Sebastian was a pushover. One hell of a pushover. I usually had to pout and he gave in to me, but watching his own movie came at a larger price, not that I minded it. As we sat down to watch the movie, my knees still ached from our earlier “negotiation”, and Sebastian grabbed my legs and hauled them into his lap. He clicked his tongue a few times, then said, “Baby girl, why didn’t you tell me?”

“It doesn’t hurt,” I shrugged, but winced when he pressed a finger into the red patches.

“Right,” he said with a smile. “And I’m the Queen of England.”

“Put on the movie, would ya?” I chuckled. “Shut your mouth.”

“You love my mouth,” Sebastian teased, tickling my thighs, and I sighed.

“I do, but it’s annoying sometimes,” I said, and I kissed my finger and pressed it to his bottom lip. “Movie. Please?”

The moment he came on screen, I felt a familiar heat in my stomach. He was a piece of shit high school guy in this movie, but he was so insanely hot. The female characters were falling all over him, but I would be lying if I said that I didn’t share the affection. “Aww, look at you,” I cooed, leaning over to tickle his chin. “Little teenage dirtbag Seba.”

“Is this why you wanted to watch this?” Sebastian laughed, smacking my hands away. “To make fun of me the whole time?”

“No,” I said. “I want to support you, damn it. I just have the privilege of making fun of you.”

Sebastian sighed, playing shaking his head, and he whispered, “You’re gonna kill me, woman.”

“I sure hope not,” I said, turning my attention back to the screen for a moment. “But it looks like Pogue might. What the hell kinda name is Pogue anyway?”

“I wish I knew,” Sebastian shrugged. “Oh, she was nice, though,” he added, pointing at the blonde girl on screen. “Really sweet. Said you were pretty.”

“You showed her a picture of me?” I asked.

“Well, not intentionally,” Sebastian said. “I was using a Polaroid of you as a bookmark and she handed me my book at one point in the makeup trailer and asked and… You know I love talking about you. I had to indulge her.”

“You keep getting better everyday,” I told him with a smile.

“You too, baby girl,” he said. “I’m getting a beer. You want one?”

“Nah,” I said. “But if it comes with a tall Romanian, I might have to rethink that.”

“Two beers, coming up,” Sebastian said, sitting up to go. Before he fully stood up, though, he tugged me close and kissed me slowly. His kisses were to die for, and I would never grow tired of them. His tongue dipped into my mouth and his hand began to inch my shirt up, but I grabbed his wrist quickly.

“Stop trying to distract me, Seb,” I whispered, biting his plush bottom lip. “We’re watching this movie.”

“Fuck,” Sebastian hissed, and I released his lip. “Thought I had you there.”

“You’ll have to try harder than that,” I told him as he stood up. I watched him as he walked to the kitchen, pulling his jeans back up his hips, and I couldn’t help but admire his ass. Even in high school, Sebastian had a nice body, and it had only gotten better with age and time. I turned my attention back to the movie, and Sebastian quickly returned with our drinks. I took a sip of mine before settling fully into his lap, and his arms went around my waist. “Okay, hold on, I’m confused,” I said quickly. “So those four guys are, like, witches? Wizards? Can guys be witches? Anyway, there’s four of them, but they sense a disturbance in the Force?”

Sebastian laughed deep in his chest. “I mean, pretty much,” he said. “You’ve got it.”

“Chase is the fifth power,” I said quickly. “I’m calling it right now.”

“Woah, hold on, what makes you think I’m the bad guy?” Sebastian asked with a quirk of his lips.

“I just know, man,” I said, taking another drink. “I know how these movies work, and you’re super hot-- more than the leads, actually-- and you’re a new guy. The bigger twist would be if he isn’t the fifth power.”

Sebastian hummed for a moment, then he sighed and mumbled, “Fuck me, you’re good at this.”

I gave a victory laugh and kissed his cheek, and he sucked his teeth in fake annoyance. “You’re way too smart for this, I’m never watching any movies with you again,” Sebastian grumbled.

“Aww, Seba, don’t be like that,” I pouted. “I still wanna watch this.”

“Fuck!” Sebastian huffed and threw his arms in defeat. “What do I have to do to turn this movie off?”

“You said that I’d have to suck your dick and we’d watch this movie,” I began. “And I did, and I did it good. So, we are watching the movie until the goddamn credits roll.”

“Mmhmm,” Sebastian grumbled, drinking his beer. “Alright then. Until the credits roll.”

Sebastian put his drink down a few minutes later, his hands slotting between my thighs. His hands were always freezing and it was a usual thing for him to warm his hands on some part of me; sometimes, it was under my arm or on my tits. Today, it seemed, was between my thighs. His thumb stroked my skin in slow and languid motions, and, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think it was innocent. He gave a sigh from his plump, pink lips, and he leaned his head on my shoulder, his eyes stuck to the TV screen. My fingers threaded through his hair absently as I watched Chase and the other witches go about their high school antics, and a familiar pressure grew between my thighs when the camera moved into a locker room. Sebastian was there, his shirt undone and his tie hanging loosely around his neck, and I gave a small gasp.

“Everything alright?” Sebastian whispered in my ear, giving it a delicate kiss. “You seem a little shaken up.”

“I’m good,” I replied. “Just… Your hands are fucking cold, man.”

“Yeah,” Sebastian chuckled. “It’s a curse, baby girl. But you seem… I don’t wanna say it because I don’t think you deserve the satisfaction, but… Are you turned on?”

I shrugged. It was embarrassing as hell that I was turned on by Sebastian in a movie, especially when I was sitting in his lap. “You know I love your abs,” I mumbled, picking at the label on my beer bottle.

“So that’s a yes?” Sebastian hummed. He leaned in and kissed my neck, his thumb moving just a bit higher up my thigh. “Just the sight of me gets you all hot, huh? I don’t even have to be doing anything.”

“Seb--” I began, but his lips attached to the spot on my neck that we both knew was my weakness. He gave it a few gentle nips with his front teeth, then soothed the sting with his tongue, and I clenched my teeth together to control my noises. His hand went higher and higher still until it reached the hem of my panties, and he slowly pushed his fingers into it. He was quiet and gentle as his hand moved, continuing to kiss my sweet spot as his palm pressed against my heat. The heel of his hand was right against my clit, just barely making enough contact, and I wriggled helplessly to get him where I wanted him.

“Watch the movie, baby girl,” Sebastian whispered, his voice low and rumbling. “You’ll miss something important.”

I groaned softly. “Sebastian,” I mumbled. “Please, love--”

“Please what?” Sebastian whispered. “What do you want, baby girl?”

“Touch me,” I panted softly. “Please.”

“You said we were going to watch this movie until the credits roll,” Sebastian said slowly. “I’ve already seen it-- fuck, I’m one of the leads--” My legs tightened at his words, trapping his hand against my wet heat, and he laughed. “So, you’re gonna watch this movie. The entire thing. And you’re not gonna worry about what I’m doing. Alright?”

I nodded, fixing my gaze on the screen once more. I didn’t expect him to push on as quickly as he did, but he ground his hand against my sensitive clit almost the moment I agreed. I gasped in surprise and I felt Sebastian smile against my neck as he continued to kiss my weakest spot, and he whispered, “Goddamn, baby. So wet for me.”

His fingers nudged me open and the tip of his middle finger began to press into me. He was moving just too slow and it was annoying the hell out of me, and I lifted my hips to have his finger in deep. “Oh, no,” Sebastian whispered, his voice a low rumble. “Don’t do that. Just relax, baby.”

“Seb--” I whined hopelessly. I knew that, no matter how much I begged, he was ultimately going to do what he wanted. He was an ass that way. “Please, babe.”

“Please what?” Sebastian said, dragging his teeth along my neck.

“More,” I whimpered. I was so fucking pathetic, but Sebastian just did something to me. No matter what, he could break me down to a crying, begging mess of a girl.

“More?” Sebastian repeated. “Like this?” He added his ring finger with excruciatingly slow speed, and his thumb came to rest on my clit at the same time. My thighs quivered at the feel of his cool rings on my wet and tender skin, and I whined high in my throat. “Oh, so good, baby girl. Taking my fingers like this, such a good little whore.”

For a moment, I dared to look away from the television in favor of my boyfriend, and I found his steel-blue eyes locked on my face. A single dark eyebrow quirked, and he said, “You just can’t follow rules, can you?” Then, seeing my flushed face and bitten lips, clicked his tongue and cooed. “Aw. Want me to fuck you stupid, baby? Doesn’t seem like that’ll take too long.”

“Seb,” I breathed. “Just…” I flexed my hips, hoping that he understood, and he gave me a devilish smile.

“This is the good part,” Sebastian whispered in my ear, and his fingers began a slow and steady pace. “Watch it, baby girl.”

My entire body was burning hot, and I squirmed in Sebastian’s arms. He was on screen, his eyes tinted fully black as he pinned one of the boys to the floor, and I felt a spasm of lightening in my stomach when his fingers finally found that spot inside of me. I jostled in his lap and bit back my moan, and he gave a little huff. “How bad do you want it?” He whispered. “Bad enough to beg for it?”

“Yes,” I sobbed. “Please, Seb, please, fuck me. I need you so bad, please, please, Seb.”

Sebastian groaned deep in his chest, and his mouth latched onto my neck. He sucked at the sensitive skin, surely leaving a mark, and he dragged his fingers in and out of my wet heat. “Look at that,” Sebastian whispered as Chase landed a kiss on his opponent’s cheek. “I am the bad guy. You were right. How are you so fucking smart, baby?”

“I know you,” I said, my cheeks burning with his praise. “You wouldn’t play a good guy.”

“Ah,” Sebastian sighed. “I knew you were smart. Now, be a good girl for me and come all over my fingers. I know how bad you want to. Maybe, if you keep being so good for me…” His lips brushed my ear before he gave me a soft kiss on my hot cheek. “I’ll let you come on my cock later.”

Sebastian’s thumb made fast circles around my throbbing clit as I tried to do as he told me and watch the movie, but I was completely distracted. I could feel his hard cock through his jeans, and the thought of having him fuck me while his movie played was enough for me to shout “Seb!” and make a mess on his fingers. My thighs trembled as Sebastian shushed me comfortingly, and he pushed my hair aside and cradled my face in his free hand. “Oh, good girl,” he whispered softly. “So, so good for me, baby. Are you feeling better now?”

I nodded and swallowed thickly, my throat dry and tight. Sebastian brushed his lips against mine warmly, and he finally pulled his fingers from my throbbing cunt. The room was dark, only the television giving any light, but I still saw his fingers glistening in the light. He handed me his beer with his free hand and, before I could say anything, popped his fingers in his mouth. I watched him for a moment before taking a drink; even though the beer was a little warm, it helped soothe my throat. “Thanks,” I said softly.

“Mm,” Sebastian hummed around his fingers, then pulled them out. “For what, baby? You know I like making you feel good.”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I just always like to thank you.”

“No need for that,” Sebastian said. “I know you appreciate it.” There was a pause, and then he groaned. “Fuck, c’mon! You guessed the twist in the first ten minutes!”

“It’s--!” I started. “It’s a PG-13 horror movie! These things are formulaic! You-- You aggravate me. Good thing you’re cute.”

“Or what?” Sebastian laughed. “You’d dump me?”

“Maybe not dump you,” I shrugged. “But I certainly wouldn’t let you fingerblast me while we watched a movie.”

Sebastian laughed, his eyes crinkling up, and he said, “God, you act like there wasn’t any romance.”

I scoffed. “Was there?”

“Oh, baby girl,” Sebastian chuckled. He pulled me back into his lap, my thighs straddling his waist, and he kissed me hard, his tongue dipping into my mouth. “I’ll show you fucking romantic I can be.”

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x y/n #sebastian stan fluff #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan fic

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txemrn · 3 years ago

Text

Faded

Book/Pairing: The Royal Romance; Leo x Madeleine

Warning: angst (some dark discussion that would give away the plot); smut 🍋 (awkward, NOT sexy); language

Word Count: 3008 (+/-)

Song Inspiration: Faded by Alan Walker ft. Iselin Solheim (lyrics quoted in the text)

A/N: This is a Royal Roulette, technically, but then again, RR was created specifically for Wacky Drabbles, and I just couldn't get the word count down! Oops! Anyway, this idea came to me when I heard this song, and this story needed to be told. Some of it is canon; some of it is creative canon; some of it, well, we'll call it creativity. lol Any and all of these ideas came from my head, but I acknowledge that others have probably written similar stories (purely coincidental).

Huge special thanks to some of my sweet writing friends: @ao719, @charlotteg234, and @kat-tia801. This took a group effort, and I love you ladies so very much for pre-reading and making this story better. And as always, these characters belong to our friends at Pixelberry!

***

He was a rushing wind; my billowing sails drift me into the unknown, but I don’t care. He’s an incinerating inferno: every tradition I was taught was set ablaze by his touch. My caged heart was unlocked by him; he set the monsters running wild inside of me. In my world of propriety and decorum, he taught me to live; more importantly, he dared me to love.

He broke free: from the customs, our culture, the captivity of our world. He broke free.

Without me. And the mess is all mine to clean up, left with only a picture of our passion--a photo of the love we once shared together. But even that is fading, and will be lost.

I’m alone with my thoughts this morning on my walk. The bite of salt in the coastal breeze tickles my nose, inviting my platinum strands into a carefree dance amongst the sunrise. Adjusting my oversized tortoise-shell sunglasses, my bare toes leave the comfort of the white sand beach only to discover the sting of the barnacle laden steps to the stone jetty. But, the shallow waters never met what I needed. My soul craves to commune with the waves from the deep.

I’m lost; there isn’t enough time in the world to think this through, and yet somehow a decision has to be made. God, where are you now? Was it all in my fantasy? Were you imaginary?

Many described our relationship as ‘destiny’--no, not exactly the romance you read about in foolish fairy tales or hear about in silly love songs. Our families ran in the same spheres of wealth and power. Politics. We are royalty. Since we were close in age, we would spend countless hours together throughout our childhood and teenage years. Being the oldest son to the king, he is--well, he was--the crowned prince of Cordonia; an agreement to our nuptials started well-before my formal training specifically for his social season.

But, something was different about Leo and me. We grew quite fond of each other, a friendship that developed into sharing secret kisses in darkened corners. Was this normal for friendships? Or did we have something deeper? Was this love?

As long as I can remember, I was taught my body was not my own; I was born with a greater purpose, and in that purpose, I would bring honor to my family and my name. I would earn my place in history: a woman who gave of herself everything she could for the sake of a country. Even love.

My reputation is to be held in the highest regard. My efforts in style and wardrobe would be subject to conversation and scrutiny. My eloquence and table etiquette could determine whether or not I’d be fit to be a queen. Every eye movement, every smile, every response could bring honor or dishonor to my family. No one cared about me as long as I presented a pristine package to court, a sacrificial lamb for king and country.

But, when the moment came for me to be chosen as his bride, I felt the swelling of joy inside my chest, bursting like strobes of light for everyone to witness. Suddenly the ideas of ‘the one’ and ‘happily ever after’ that I read about in the great classics teased my senses; I wanted to cry, to scream, to laugh. My body had a sudden thirst, a yearning for him that I didn’t understand.

In my innocence, this could only be one thing.

“Countess Madeleine,” he knowingly grins, “will you do me this honor?”

Swallowing thickly, her jade eyes flutter open at the sound of her name. In a handsomely fit tux, adorning his family colors in full regalia, her future husband, the future king of Cordonia, takes a knee to present the stunning canary solitaire. The dread melts away as the butterflies overcome her nerves.

Keeping with propriety, she nods her head while curtly dabbing away tears. But, something is distracting her: she is to be relishing in her accomplishment of winning the honor, for winning all of the glory, for winning the crown. She is to be the next queen of Cordonia.

But she is overwhelmed by all thoughts of him, her husband-to-be, the father to their future children. Suddenly the life she had been training for didn’t matter; she was betrothed and in love.

Smoothing out the tightness of my heathered linen pants, I take a moment to stare at my empty ring finger. I feel soreness from the collection of tears, but I refuse to allow anymore drop on his behalf. Today is hard enough.

I hug my body, remembering the warmth of his intimate touch. I had kept myself pure for him. Until that night.

Within an hour of making his intentions known to the court, Leo scurries away with his future bride, leaving only a trail of giggles and whispers along the way to his chambers.

Shrugging off his jacket, Leo presses her petite body against the locked door. His hand gently cradles her head, his thumb tracing the length of her jaw. His lips hungrily search hers, wolfishly devouring her mouth before she can react.

“Is this okay?” he whispers under his breath, his smoldering gaze entraps her innocent eyes. Breathlessly focused on his swelling lips, she nods her head dutifully.

He places his hands on her waist before sliding them intently back onto the curves of her ass, grabbing at her fullness under her whimper. A growl becomes his breathing, staring at his prey.

“Do you love me, my future queen?”

Love. Was that love?

The hypnotic rise and fall of the waves is starting to sour my stomach, but the ocean spray is so inviting and calming on my clammy skin. Finding a smooth stone, I seek refuge from the surge of the sea’s tantrum. Relaxing under the gentle rays of the morning sunshine, I close my eyes, only to see him.

He cheats her out of her next breath, his tongue overwhelming her mouth. His eager fingers find the zipper to her ballgown. He paws at her back, his fingers brushing against the secret skin of her body.

Her bra tosses to the wayside; admiring his new found treasure, Leo’s hands plunder her supple curves. His mouth plummets to her hardening nipples, his teeth teasing her nerves with fear. The sudden twinge of pleasure thrashes her head against the door.

“Shall I continue, beautiful?” he exhales, catching his breath; but, before an answer is uttered, he stumbles back into the temptation of her perfect body. His fingers tease across the waistband of her petal pink briefs; her eyes cinch closed, her mouth unable to hold back a moan.

“Someone is enjoying themselves,” he chuckles, standing to tower over her. He kisses her cheek, leaning his mouth close to her ear. “Is this what you want?” He tucks a strand behind her ear.

“Mhmm,” her lips curl slightly, leaning into his touch.

“Do you like what I am doing for you?”

“Yes,” she softly groans.

“Yeah?” He reaches into her panties, her knees buckling to the wandering of his fingers. “Mmmm,” he pulls his hand out, licking his fingertips, “that’s my good girl. You love my touch.” He stands back, shaking off her body. Locking his eyes with hers, he casually steps backwards until he reaches the bed. He slides off his belt, unfastening his slacks.

“Come here,” he motions for her to step closer. “Show me your love for me.”

Madeleine’s eyes focus on his growing girth, bulging from his unzipped pants; but, then her gaze darts around the room. Surely he knows that she isn’t well-versed in such endeavors.

“Maddie?” he combs his fingers through her blonde tresses. “I love you. You know that, right?”

She closes her eyes. The words send a jolt of happiness through her veins. She was experiencing love. She was prepared for everything else, but this?

"Then, let me show you,” he growls, pushing her back onto the bed. Hungrily ripping off her panties, he exposes her to his touch. Youthful and pure. "Are you ready?"

He spreads her legs apart, her thighs trembling. She grips the sheets with her tiny fists. Her doe-like eyes stare into his hunting blues as she feels him touch her again; but this time, it wasn't his fingers.

With an inexperienced push of his hips, red flashes before Madeleine's eyes as she squints her eyes in pain, hiding the gathering of tears. He thrusts again; her teeth gnash at the breaking of her body. Her head thrashes back and forth, groaning as she serves a penance under his rhythmic plunges into her warm, narrow core again and again. Harder and harder. Faster. Deeper.

Without warning, the beating of her body stops, leaving her stretched, completely filled with him. Moaning her name in the company of obscenities, his breathing becomes quick and shallow despite his efforts to slow down. Sweat gathers across his brow as he savors the delicate tightness of her depths. Stumbling into his ecstasy, he loses control, pouring himself into her. The sudden rush of fullness makes her whimper, the sting begins to dull as a smile crawls across her face. His lips meet her soft, glowing skin. Finally, it’s over.

That night: it was so long ago. But, I can still feel it; I can still feel him. The smell and taste of him lingers on my tongue. I miss him.

And with that, my breathing labors as I choke out a sob. I press the back of my hand to my lips as tears cloud my vision from the Mediterranean horizon. A sour pang creeps up my throat as I cradle my tender belly with my other hand. Clenching my eyes closed, I hope to hold back the downpour of tears from my soul. God, please not again.

Madeleine's head rests on Leo's shoulder, his strong arm securely around her exposed body. Her marigold diamond catches the pale moonlight perfectly, it's brilliance mesmerizing the bride-to-be as she subtly teeters her hand on his well-structured chest. He suddenly engulfs her hand with his. Turning towards him, her lips meet his perfectly like the final piece of the puzzle, locking seamlessly in place.

"Runaway with me, Madeleine."

The flecks of evergreen in her eyes sparkle with curiosity. "What--?"

"This life, Maddie," he gently rubs her back, "is this really the life that you want-- that you'd want for us?"

She sits up, taken aback from the peculiar question. "You mean the life we're living right now? Us? Being engaged?”

“Yes--I mean, no. I--” Leo stumbles over his words, dragging his hand across his face. “I love you, and I want to be with you--” he pushes a platinum strand behind her ear, “--but do you ever wonder what it’s like out there? Out in the real world? Away from all of this pressure? Away from all of these rules?”

“Away from the public eye? Living life--” she titters into a big smile, “--like everyday people?"

"Yes." He sighs, pressing her hand against his heart. "Before long, we will be in charge. In charge, Maddie. Of an entire country." There is a quake in his voice, a quiver that even makes her feel chilled. "I don’t think I’m cut out for this,” a breath hitches in his chest. “Will I even be a good king?"

“Of course," she whispers, offering a doting smile, “Of course, Leo," her voice becomes stronger, authoritative. “You can do this. You were made for this. And while, yes, you are the king, you’re not alone.” She laces her fingers with his. “You’ll always have me. You have my support--” she kisses the back of his hand, “and most of all, you have my love.” She leans down to kiss his hand again, but rather he captures her in his arm, bringing her to his lips, making her squeal.

“I love you, Madeleine.”

She moans into his pout as he kisses her once more. “I love you, too, Leo.”

The creaminess to his baritone voice dissipates from my memory, fading away much like our love. How could I have been so foolish? I gave him everything--I promised him everything. My life, my whole existence was for him, and I naively thought that love would somehow stitch us together, that somehow we would be the monarchs that did have it all. Wealth. Power. Love. A happily-ever-after that could join the rankings of the greatest love stories ever told.

But, it wasn't enough. I wasn't enough.

The sudden rapping on the door abruptly wakes Madeleine from a deep sleep. The sunlight pours mercilessly through the windows as she grabs the sheets to cover herself.

The door suddenly tramples open, Constantine bounding first into the room, followed by his head guard Bastien. “Where is he? Where’s Leo?” The king sneers as the blonde trips out of bed, reaching for clothing. “For God’s sakes, couldn’t you two show some fucking self-control?”

Madeleine cinches the high-thread-count sheet around her body, leaving her slender shoulders and décolleté exposed. As a blush crawls across her face, the question begins to haunt her: where is Leo? He wasn’t in bed this morning. In fact, his clothes are missing from their disheveled heap that was next to her discarded dress. His watch and cell phone were missing from the bedside table. But, otherwise everything seemed to be in place.

Madeleine rushes to the ensuite bathroom, hoping to find a logical clue to Leo’s whereabouts there.

"Call him. Now," the king growls at the anxious countess.

"He's not answering us, Countess Madeleine. We assume given your current relationship with his majesty--" Madeleine nods in understanding.

"I'm sorry, but the phone number you're trying to reach has been disconnected or is no longer in service."

Her eyebrows furrow as she ends the call. "I--I--I don't understand," she stammers, rubbing her forehead with her fingers. "His phone has been disconnected--"

"Fucking ungrateful--” growls Constantine, ripping the phone from Madeleine's tiny hand, “--selfish son of a bitch!" He throws the phone against the wall, shattering it into pieces. He gruffly turns towards his future daughter-in-law. “Are you certain you dialed the right number?" He spits. Madeleine braces herself against a wall, turning her face away from him. She carefully nods, refusing to make eye contact. “Unbelievable!” Constantine knocks over some antique silver candelabras before exiting the room, leaving Bastien behind.

“Sir?’ Madeleine quietly calls to the guard, drawing closer to him, ensuring her body is covered. “What is all the commotion about? Where is Leo?”

“Leo failed to report to his morning engagements about last night festivities. According to our cameras, he left this morning through the northwest gate in an unmarked black Sudan around o’four hundred hours.”

Madeleine cups her mouth as she stumbles to sit down on the bed. She nervously combs her fingers through her tangled tresses. “What does this mean?” She spouts nervously, her body shaking with tears gathering in her eyes.

“Please try not to worry, ma’am,” Bastien carefully places a comforting hand on her bare shoulder, quickly withdrawing it when their eyes awkwardly meet at the gesture. “Um--” he clears his throat, “--I don’t know what he’s doing, but we will find him.” He turns on his heel to leave Madeleine alone when suddenly a thought hits him. “By any chance, did he mention anything to you?”

‘Runaway with me, Madeleine.’ One simple request. He asked me to just simply follow him. I thought he was joking or simply making a hypothetical request due to his uneasy nerves; but, my love for him aside, this was my calling: to serve him. If I had chosen to honor him rather than challenge him… if I had chosen to remind him of responsibility and duty rather than trying to win him over with ludicrous ideas of love in marriage…

Leo abdicated the throne.

No one speaks about royalty relinquishing their responsibilities. We’re born into this; we were made to do this. We spend our entire lives preparing, being told that it is an honor to bear such greatness, it is an honor to host such power. No one speaks of the alternative. Truth be told: if we knew there was a way to escape, to renounce such a life as this, how many of us would take that chance?

It’s been seven weeks since that awful morning. Seven weeks of silence and darkness. Seven weeks of broken dreams and false hope. Seven weeks of only one absolution: Leo had found his freedom. He wasn't coming back.

I pull out the photograph of our love just one more time as the tears gather once more in my eyes. Leo’s last words to me were ‘I love you;’ but somehow as I trace my fingers amongst the black and white print, I have to say, ‘goodbye’ for both of us this morning.

“Ms. Amaranth?”

“Yes, ma’am?” Madeleine wakes from her daydream, her voice trembling. She chews incessantly on her nails as her crossed legs bounce nervously. The sterile white walls around her seem to be closing in around her; the air grows thick, stifling. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

The dark brunette stands to come closer to the blonde. She straightens out her white coat while fixing an endearing smile on her face. She sits down next to Madeleine, taking her hand. “I asked if you are sure about this decision?”

If Madeleine had learned anything in the past two months, it's that she could only be sure about nothing. She stares at her bobbing toe, hypnotically entranced with the clicking of the clock in the exam room.

“There are other options," the doctor continues. "Adoption. Keeping the baby.”

I tear up the ultrasound picture in my hands, letting the wind chase it to the sea. The tattered pieces drift for a place to rest, sinking to the depths my soul will forever crave, a secret place far too precious for this world. For my world.

Goodbye, love.

***

Tag List (please please please let me know if you need to be added or removed!): @ao719 @bbrandy2002 @burnsoslow @charlotteg234 @chemist-ana @choiceskatie @dcbbw @forallthatitsworth @gkittylove99 @glaimtruelovealways @iaminlovewithtrr @jessiembruno @kat-tia801 @khoicesbyk @lovelyladyk88 @lucy-268 @mainstreetreader @neotericthemis @nestledonthaveone @phoenixrising308 @sfb123 @shannonwrote @shewillreadyou @taniasethi @texaskitten30 @thefrenchiemama @twinkleallnight @yourmajesty09

#the royal romance #choices the royal romance #leo x madeleine #royal roulette #choices fanfiction #choices trr

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mrsmaybank · 4 years ago

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JJ Maybank x Reader: You Taste Like Fruit Punch

JJ and the reader are in the honeymoon phase. How long will it last?

PART ONE HERE

A/N: This was so fucking fun to write! I got some good reception on the last one so if everybody likes this one just as much, this will for sure be a series. Again, hope you like it! TW: Language, ALMOST Smut, and Drinking That Sublime song here

Waking up next to JJ this morning, it felt like I was still dreaming. The sun shone in through the window warming my skin and making JJ’s golden hair shimmer. This feeling was so warm and strange.

Peeking out the window to see how bad the Hurricane’s destruction had been, I got up and put on my own shirt and some shorts. John B was in the kitchen, watching as I got a beer from the fridge.

“Beer for breakfast ah?”

“Mhm..” I took a swig and asked him, “What’s the damage?”

“Dunno, haven’t checked yet.” I could tell his mind was somewhere else, but I didn’t pry.

“JJ get the fuck up!” You shouted to the other room.

“Polio bro!” He shouted back.

John B shook his head and laughed. Mouthing “You like him!” I flipped him off as I started to walk back to the room.

Sighing, I threw a pillow at his lazy ass. I stood right in front of him. “Yo, bum. Get your ass up.��

“Or what?” He grumbled, then snaking his hands around my hips to pull me back into bed with him.

“Asshole! I almost spilled my beer.”

“Beer?” he perked up, “I like the way you think girl.”

“Endearing.” I giggled. “Get up and you can have your own.”

“Mmm..I have a better idea.” He took my beer and took a sip before placing it on the nightstand. He got on top of me, kissing my neck as I whined. “Fuck me.” I said under my breath. He’d gotten his permission. This sneaky, horny, beautiful bitch. Taking off my shirt, he giggled. “Boobies!” I was in a fit of laughter. This boy was so boyish it hurt.

He started to suck and kiss and lick and do all the things that made me want to stay in this moment forever. “God, JJ.”

“You’re totally right,” he started sliding my shorts off, “I am god.”

“You’re a cocky piece of shit is what you are.”

He kissed down my stomach, “Only rightfully so.” Hooking his fingers onto my panties, he came back up to kiss my mouth one more time.

“I’m you-” He started. I put a finger up to his mouth,

“Don’t say things you don’t mean.” He shook his head, and I grabbed his face and kissed him harder. “Just fuck me already.”

As our skin cooled down and our heavy breathes became lighter, I turned to JJ once more.

“You mean it?” I asked.

His blue eyes burned into my soul. He snaked my hand around my neck to pull my face closer into his. “With every bone in my fucking body.”

“Ask me then.” I crossed my arms.

“Ask you what?” He said, feigning cluelessness.

“Oh, alright fine,” I sighed, “Didn’t know you were such a pussy.” I scooted away. He looked away and licked his lips, grabbed my hips and pulled me in so there was no space in between us. My breath hitched, and he said, “‘Sup, Y/N. I was wondering if ya wanted to go steady?” He smiled that stupid hot smile that made me want to slap and kiss him at the same time.

“Ehh...I’ll think about it, Maybank.”

“You bitch.” He said, beginning to assault my neck and stomach in tickles.

“JJ stop!” He laughed and didn’t. “Today,” I said in between hysterical giggles, “Is the day you fucking die!”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Kie, try this.” I tossed the bottle to her as she situated on the HMS Pogue.

She took a sip of the red liquid and gagged, “That’s fucking poison!”

“Lemme see,” John B grabbed it from her and took a swig. “What the shit did you put in that?” He wiped his mouth, “Jesus christ.” I wasn’t amused. “What are you fucking eighth grade Kooks? It’s Hawaiian punch and vodka.” I took another sip, “And it’s fucking delicous.”

JJ swung his arm around me, “I’m more of a beer guy, babe.”

Kie smiled and Pope choked on his Gatorade, “Babe?” he let out.

I nodded and JJ flicked Pope’s hat. “We’re dating now buddy.”

Kie clapped her hands and smiled, “I knew it, I knew it, I fucking knew it!”

Pope still looked distraught, “What the hell d’you mean?”

“Come on Pope! It’s so obvious. They’ve liked each other for so long.”

“Guilty,” JJ said, squeezing my shoulder. Pope’s eyes just widened even more,

“It all makes sense now. I was so oblivious. My whole life’s a lie.”

“Pope relax,” JJ laughed, “We can still have sneaky links.”

I grabbed Kiara’s hand, “You and me too.”

JJ choked, and then lit up “Three--”

Kie slapped him before I could say anything. “In your dreams JJ.”

These moments right here are what make life worth living for. Racing through the marsh, the alcohol and the wind and the sun and the water and the Sublime song made me feel infinite. We came to a stop so we could all cool off in the water. I took off my shirt and grabbed Kie’s hand. “Come sing with meeee!” I said in my Pogue-cocktail induced drunkenness.

“I don’t practice Santeria!” I yelled in her face as we danced.

“I ain’t got no crystal ball!” She sang loud back at me.

“I had a million dollars but I'd, I'd spend it all!” We sang together.

It was a moment of friendship and freedom.

“Woo!” Kie had jumped in.I shimmied off my shorts to join her, but before I did, JJ kissed me on my open mouth. Grabbing my waist he pulled me as close as he could and laughed, “You taste like fruit punch.”

I replied with me singing Santeria one more time, “Daddy's gonna love one and all!” And I jumped in.

#jjxreader #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jjimagine #jj #jjobximagine #jjobxangst #angstyjjobx #jjobx #jjouterbanks #obx #obxjj #obx jj maybank #obx jj #obx jj x reader #jj outer banks #outerbanksimagine #outerbanks #jj x y/n

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duskamethyst · 4 years ago

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close to you. | part. Ⅱ

a/n: i am beyond grateful that i’ve got requests for a part two when i initially didn’t plan for this to be a series. i also don’t know what you’re expecting from the previous ending. i can make it spicy if that’s what you want (if you wish for part three), but i’ve no experience in writing gn!reader smut (so it’ll be f!reader instead). so, yeah. drop me something. it’ll really help. if not, i’ll just end it here.

word count: 3.2k

genre: fluff

warnings: n/a

pairing: catboy!kuroo x gn!reader

← read part. Ⅰ

“w-what do you mean?” you reply, refusing to look at him in the eyes as you speak.

“you know, give me a kiss like you always did.” he purrs. “i kind of miss it, to be honest.”

your mind walks you down to memory lane where you always cradled him and gently kiss him on his wet nose. it was one of your favorite things to do and you swore you would’ve given him so many kisses on the nose but he always ended up squirming around and ran away.

then you thought of kissing your cat in his human form and your cheeks start to warm when you realize how embarrassing it would be. you know he’s still your cat and all but it’s a bit different now, right?

“don’t be ridiculous, kuroo.” you sneer, crouching down and over his arm to step away from his silly enclosure like you’re a mouse that he managed to corner. he looks at you dejectedly, ears plopping down but perks back up the moment an idea pops in his head. from the look of his face, you can already tell that you hate it already.

“how about we play hide and seek?” he suggests, golden irises glinting with playfulness. you know he’s stubborn and you can’t do anything but give in.

you sigh, “and what’s the catch?”

“if i catch you, you’ll have to kiss me.” he claims proudly as he puffs out his chest, hands on his hips and you regret asking in the first place.

“what?!” your jaw almost drops. this game would only benefit him. you’ve played with him plenty of times before and you’re aware that he’s damn good at it. he’ll find you in a jiffy with the help of his strong sense of smell.

“but that’s not fair! you already know where–”

“ten, nine, eight...” kuroo completely ignores you as he closes his eyes to begin the countdown. although being completely forced into this game, your mind is already fumbling to figure out where would be the best spot to hide as you run away from the male.

certainly not the closet– it would be too obvious.

under the dining table? too easy.

under the bed? nah, that’s where he usually hides from you.

you don’t have much of a choice so in the end, you choose to hide behind the thick curtains in the corner of the living room. maybe if you hold your breath and sink in your stomach, you’d appear flatter and blend in with the curtains.

“one!” he chirps before you start to hear his footsteps become louder and fade into the distance. just as you thought, the bedroom is the first place he would look into since that’s where the closet is located. you can hear the door open and a startling ‘boo!’ from him that almost makes you giggle before he closes it back again.

it makes you anxious when you hear echoes of footsteps pacing back and forth as he walks to the bathroom then to the kitchen before they suddenly become quiet again and you think that he probably stops walking around the house. kuroo probably realizes that the sounds from his feet are making quite the noise in that form unlike when he was walking on his paws.

“gotcha.” you squeal in surprise as kuroo yanks the curtains away and pulls you into his hard chest. “i immediately knew when i passed the living room but it wouldn’t be fun if the game ended so soon.”

“oh, shut up. you knew you would win anyway.” you huff in frustration.

“you’ve picked the worst place to hide,” he smirks and leans down to whisper in your ear, “or was it on purpose?”

“you wish i was.” you roll your eyes, ignoring the shiver running down your spine when you feel his hot breath fanning your ear.

“of course you didn’t.” chuckling, he then looks at you dead in the eyes. “and my reward?”

“i didn’t agree to anything.” you internally curse at yourself when your heart makes a skip over how close his face is to yours, only separated by just a few inches.

“but you played, didn’t you? you could’ve said no.” he purrs, hazel eyes flicking down to your lips and back to your eyes.

“yeah– y-you didn’t give me a choice.” your breath comes out short as you realize he’s closing the space between you. “kuroo, stop.”

“don’t want to.” he cups your face gently to hold you still. you close your eyes as you nervously wait for his lips to crash onto yours and you can feel his bangs tickling against your face.

however, kuroo abruptly pulls away as a ‘pang’ sound reverberates throughout the room followed by an odd, stinging pain on his cheek.

“ow?!” he yelps, his hand reaches his cheek and his eyes are blown in bewilderment. it feels warm, but it’s not the kind that he likes. it doesn’t feel anything like your body heat when he curls up on top of you despite the fact that it does heat up because of you.

“sike!” you laugh triumphantly but the man only looks at you in dejection.

“you’ve never hit me before.” the corners of his lips tug into a frown and his tail curls around his waist for comfort.

you ponder for a moment, “true. but i find it easier to slap a man instead of a cat.”

“then you’ll kiss me if i turn back into a cat, right?” his ears perk up as a sign of piqued interest.

you roll your eyes, “not necessarily.” you stretch your arms as you walk away to your room. “well, i’m beat. goodnight, kuroo.”

“coming!” he catches up to you but the door slams into his face before he can enter your room.

“no!”

kuroo ended up sleeping on the couch that night. he’s not entirely happy about it and you can see his attitude switches up the next morning. weekends mean you get the chance to laze around and steal the opportunity to wake up later than usual, and living with you for years means kuroo is also familiar with your schedule.

unfortunately, an unwanted noise disturbs your slumber.

and he is scratching the door.

“go away, kuroo!” you groan, rolling to your side with a pillow between your head as you cover your ears in hopes to block out the racket right outside your bedroom.

yet, kuroo is persistent, and you both are aware of that. whatever he wants, he will get.

well, almost.

jumping off the bed and stomping your way to open the door, you look down to see the roguish cat grinning up at you tauntingly.

“what?”

kuroo meows as a reply and strides to the kitchen, glancing over to you to see if you’re following him before he stops and sits straight next to his empty bowl. you reach for the fridge to take out the fish for him and put it in the sink to let it thaw.

kuroo jumps on the counter to scrutinize his food before looking up at you again, tail wagging in annoyance with wide brown irises surrounding his narrow pupils.

“that’s for misbehaving. i’m revoking our ‘truce’.” you sneer conceitedly with intent to show who actually holds the power around the house and him.

kuroo only growls lowly, his ears pushed back in irritation but you only laugh.

“that’s right. i can. i’m your master.” you say, before emitting a long, audible breath when you realize something. “but then again, i’m the one who has to work my ass off to feed you.”

kuroo only observes you in silence and curiosity– he thinks you look sad as you’re suddenly lost in your thoughts but you smile at him again and boop his little wet nose, making his heart flutter because it reminds him of the generous kisses you used to give him. if he knew it was going to turn out like this, he would’ve never struggled to escape when you cradled him into your arms.

“but it’s okay. it’s all because i love your annoying ass.” you mindlessly mumble, almost forgetting the fact that kuroo is able to comprehend your language very well, and embarrassment washes over you once your mind becomes fully aware of it. even when he doesn’t speak, his pupils dilate in astonishment and he is utterly pleased.

“i- uh, i mean– i have to give you credit where it’s due!” you say a little too loudly out of awkwardness, looking around anywhere except his gaze– you can already picture his stupid, smug grin in your head and you just wish for the ground to swallow you whole right now.

“anyways! i have to run to the grocery later after i feed you.” you quickly change the topic and run towards the bathroom to take a shower (or hide), leaving poor kuroo baffled on the counter.

this time, he thinks that maybe he doesn’t mind having tuna.

kuroo lounges on the couch alone, watching the clock on the wall ticks by as he waits for you to come home. he’s getting anxious– you’ve been out for a while now and it doesn’t help the fact that he couldn’t read the time no matter how hard he stares at the numbers. but that one thin line seems to move fast and it already made multiple cycles. so that surely means something, right?

his ears perk up at the sound of your footsteps and jingling keys and his gaze quickly shifts to the main door but he decides to act cool, turning on the tv (he knows that one since he has seen you do it plenty of times) and pretends to watch whatever is playing.

“kuroo, look what i found!” you chirp happily as you open the door, but his sharp nose has already figured and it’s something he’d definitely won’t be too pleased about.

putting your grocery bag down on the floor, you skip into the living room and show him the calico cat you’ve found on your way back home. you hold the cat by his armpits, shoving the poor thing in front of his face.

his eye twitches at the sight and his tail fluffs up in annoyance, “hah?!”

you cradle him protectively against your chest and the cat meows almost too quietly as his bright golden eyes look up at you. “don’t shout, kuroo. you’re gonna scare him.”

“w-what– you can’t–” he gets up on his seat and glares at the calico that’s practically clinging back onto you.

“oh, yes i can.” you laugh. “no nails on the couch, kuroo.” you simply say before turning around to pick up your grocery bag to the kitchen. he’s fuming and he doesn’t even realize how hard his hands are clenching down on the couch. to make it worse, kuroo doesn’t miss the dirty look that the cat throws his way when you walk to the kitchen and boy, it makes him want to kick him out of the house immediately.

you quickly notice the intimidating vibe from the male as he observes you and your newfound friend, making you feel a little bad. “i’m just kidding, kuroo. i already asked if anyone wants to adopt it so i’m just gonna let him stay here for a while before my friend picks it up tomorrow.”

so you’re not entirely betraying him and he’s a bit relieved to hear it, but his territorial nature couldn’t stand the fact that he’s forced to go through one night with another feline in the house. kuroo could just leave the house for the night but then again, he’s the one that lives here so why should he? you may be oblivious, but kuroo can tell that there’s something malicious about him and it’s definitely not because he’s jealous.

“are you hungry, kenma?” you coo, ignoring the feeling of kuroo’s intense gaze burning holes from your back as he looks at you in disbelief after hearing the name you call him.

“k-kenma?! you already gave him a name?!” he yells and he’s so close to shredding the cushion underneath him.

“mmhmm, i think it’s cute and it fits him.” you giggle as you watch the calico devour his food like he hasn't gotten a meal for ages. “or maybe kyanma is cuter?”

“ew.” kuroo tears his eyes away, no longer able to stand the sight of you smothering– (he can’t even bring himself to say the name) kenma despite being in his presence. first, the stupid blonde guy and now this? you’re breaking his little heart.

“don’t look at him like that.” though your eyes are glued to the screen, you can feel his piercing gaze from the other couch as you lie down with kenma sleeping and purring peacefully on your chest. it’s such an eyesore for kuroo and he just hopes you’re not going to sleep in bed with him tonight.

kenma’s eyes flutter open to glance over the older feline and his lips twitch into a victorious smirk before snuggling back on your chest to sleep again, causing kuroo’s jaw to clench in vexation.

but what gets on his nerves even more is when he suddenly hears the sound your lips make as you kiss kenma on the nose.

his ears are blowing steam right now and in his head he’s already throwing stupid kenma away to sit on top of you and yell at him to stay away from what’s his and that he’s unwelcomed here. he wants to do it, but he knows that you wouldn’t like that and he fears that he’ll be the one to get kicked out from the house instead of his competitor.

alternatively, he tries to get your attention.

“i’m hungry.” he whines as he looks at you with his innocent and pleading eyes in an attempt for you to melt into them.

“but i’m going to wake him up if i leave.” you answer, genuinely feeling bad if you start to move away from your seat.

“he’s not sleeping.” he quickly replies and kenma’s ears perk up when he’s aware that he’s on the topic.

“but–”

“trust me, i know.”

“hmm, fine.” you gently caress the cat and kenma mewls when you put him down on the couch to leave for the kitchen. kuroo watches you from his seat and turns to kenma once he’s confident that you’re distracted from preparing his food for him.

“listen here, you little shit.” he growls intimidatingly before bopping his head up to peep at you to see your back facing him, “i know what you’re up to and don’t you dare think that you’re running this place because you’ll be gone first thing in the morning.”

“kuroo?” you call from the kitchen and he immediately stands up and pretends that nothing has happened as he skips happily to his plate.

“feed me, pleaaase.” he shamelessly requests, but you only look at him weirdly and repulsed.

“but you already know–”

“pleaaaase?” his lips feign a pout but you roll your eyes.

“don’t be ridiculous, kuroo.” you wave your hand to disregard his plea and walk back into the living room and take kenma to sit on your lap before his head rubs on your hand to ask you to pet him.

kuroo only sighs and takes a mouthful of his meal into his mouth.

morning has finally arrived, though later than kuroo expected. he couldn’t sleep a wink knowing that you were having kenma together with you on your bed while he had to settle for the couch again. he said it was either you bring him with you or leave kenma with him in the living room. but you couldn’t possibly leave the two together in the same room, even if you were there and asleep. kuroo was literally on his knees and begged to come inside the room with you, yet your answer was resolute.

but it’s fine, you can say goodbye to kenma now and you’re going to be stuck with him until the end of his life.

your friend comes with a cat carrier in hand and they just fall in love with the calico as soon as they lay their eyes on him. you’re a bit sad since you’ve grown attached to the little guy over the short time, but your friend assures you that you can stop by their place anytime if you wish to see kenma. they think that maybe you can bring kuroo along so they can play together, but you just laugh at the idea– knowing kuroo doesn’t like him and you only kept kenma close to make sure he wouldn’t be too distressed. and well, they’re not dogs either.

as soon as you close the door for your friend, kuroo wraps his big arms around you and sighs in relief.

“that was mean of you.” he whines softly.

“you’re being dramatic.” but kuroo holds you tighter and your cheeks start to get warm.

“no. you keep on picking up nasty scents from others. first, your ugly friend and then… then...” he nibbles his lip, as if uttering the name would cause him to vomit.

“atsumu and kenma?” you giggle, causing kuroo to grunt when he hears the names.

“but now that i have you like this, you can’t run away nor slap me again.” he purrs, leaning his chin to rest on your shoulder.

“i don’t get it.” you reply coyly, as if him rubbing his cheek against yours isn’t clear enough to tell you what he wants to do.

“look at me.” he orders, and you nervously turn your head to him. although there’s a shit eating grin plastered across his face, it only makes him look even more gorgeous especially when he is only a couple of inches away.

there’s a sparkle of mischief in his umber eyes as he stares into you, “close your eyes.”

and you do. his hot breath prickles your skin when he closes in the gap and he finally plants a soft kiss on the tip of your nose.

your eyes flutter open once he pulls away. “is that it? is that the kiss?”

“mmhmm.” he nods his head a bit too proudly and lets you go.

you burst out laughing when you’re reminded of a pure, curious child that knows absolutely nothing of the world.

“then, you missed.” you chaff, turning to face the clueless male.

“w-what?” kuroo blinks in confusion and his ears and tail plop down dispiritedly. he’s pretty sure that he did it right. besides, that’s how you’ve always kissed him when he was a–

oh.

you take a step closer to him and get on your tiptoes before cupping his face to pull it closer to yours. it must be the waves of endorphins rushing in your veins or the look of his handsome yet dejected face after thinking that he has accomplished something great– but you found the urge to kiss him properly on the lips, leaving kuroo stunned and wide eyed as he relishes on the new feeling of your soft lips pressing against his before you pull away all too quickly.

“that’s how you kiss someone.”

well, maybe you shouldn’t have taught him that because now, he’ll just might want more.

#kuroo tetsurou #tetsurou kuroo #kuroo x reader #kuroo x you #kuroo fluff #haikyuu kuroo #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu fanfic #kuroo fanfic #r; writes

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dp-marvel94 · 3 years ago

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Face to Face- Chapter 34

Summary: When Danny went through the ghost catcher, he expected to be cured of the ghostliness that had haunted him since the accident, not to wake up on the lab floor with his parents saying he’d been overshadowed but everything’s back to normal now. But why does Danny Fenton cry himself to sleep to then dream of flying? Why does Phantom, the ghost who was supposedly possessing Danny remember a life that wasn’t his? Most of all, why do both the human and the ghost feel that something vital is missing, in their very soul? Or: Trying to cure himself of his powers one month after the accident, Danny accidentally splits himself but neither his ghost nor his human half know that that is what they did

First -> Last -> Next

Word Count: 5,208

Also on AO3 and Fanfiction.net

Note: I'm finally back with an update! It's been a while. I've been busy with my Invisobang story but it's finally finished. There's more about that at the end. But anyway, enjoy this much awaited chapter of Face to Face!

Fenton was distracted staring at the clock...again. His math teacher, Mr. Faluca, droned on in front of him and he was trying to listen. He really was but….there was just so much going on in his mind. Yes, he was less worried now that Phantom was back from the Ghost Zone, but now his curiosity was peaked. Halfa. There was a word for what he was and right now, his other self was talking about that with Sidney, the ghost he’d met earlier.

Fenton was so tempted to peak. He could, he realized. He could softly withdraw and see through Phantom’s eyes and hear through his ears. But… he needed to stay here, stay present. He was the human half right now, just Fenton. He couldn’t risk getting lost, getting tangled up with Phantom again before they were ready and able to really be one person.

So Fenton pushed away the thought. He put his pencil to his paper, copying the numbers and equations down. So this was new material. His brow furrowed, trying to figure out where the teacher was. After a few minutes, his expression relaxed. Alright, okay. This was actually starting to make sense.

Class continued and Fenton continued taking notes. About ten minutes later, the intercom turned on. “Danny Fenton.” The boy looked up, stiffening at his name. “Danny Fenton. Your father’s here to pick you up.”

Fenton’s stomach suddenly flopped with nerves as he felt his classmates’ eyes on him.

Mr. Faluca turned to look at the boy. “Go ahead Danny.”

He quickly started packing up his things, trying to ignore the muttering of the teens around him. Moments later, he stood and slung his bag over his shoulders. Head hung low, Fenton walked past his teacher and opened the door as the lesson continued without him.

Now in the hallway, his thoughts whirled, his worries resurging. Why was his Dad here? Why was he picking him up early? And-

The boy paused, the realization suddenly hitting him like a freight train as he passed by the rusty locker 724. Phantom. His ghost half had run off, in front of Mom. The woman was probably worried out of her mind.

The boy then continued, pulling his phone out of his pocket. Huh...it was actually surprising that he hadn’t got a panicked phone call from one of his parents yet. But that must be why Dad was here to pick him up. Obviously, Mom had told Dad what happened in the lab. And it made sense. If ghost Danny was missing, they’d want to make sure human Danny was safe at least.

Fenton’s heart sank in guilt at that thought. He hadn’t even called his parents. Not after he’d calmed down at lunch and not after Phantom had arrived through the portal. They’d both been silent for the past hour. Well...at least he’d get the chance to tell his parents what happened and ease their worries soon. Actually, he could do more than just tell them that Phantom was safe.

The human reached out with his mind, calling into the empty space between the two pieces of his mind. Phantom?

A gentle nudge was received in acknowledgement.

Fenton swallowed. Dad’s here to pick me up. You need to come too. He’s probably worried out of his mind.

The echo of his own guilt came back, projected from Phantom. Alright. I’ll meet you in the car.

Fenton nodded, humming in acknowledgement before he turned his attention back to walking down the hall. After a quick stop at his locker, the boy continued towards the front office. He pushed open the door, freezing as he saw the people staring back at him.

“Dad….Jazz.” He muttered, eyes flickering between his father and sister’s worried faces.

“Danny.” Dad breathed, relief flashing over his face. He took a step forward, sweeping the boy up in a hug.

The human Danny stiffened, blushing at the attention. His gaze shifted to the secretary who was looking at the large figure blocking the door with barely contained judgment. “Dad. I’m okay.” The boy muttered, pulling away.

His father’s face fell but before he could reply, Jazz advanced. Her face was set with deep worry. “Danny. Do you know where-”

“Yes.” Fenton cut her off, anticipating her question. “He’s safe.”

“But where-” She started.

“Not right here.” The boy whispered.

“Come on. Let’s go to the car.” Dad interjected, placing a gentle hand on Fenton’s shoulder.

The man returned to the desk to sign the two teenagers out of school before the three quickly walked towards the front doors. They exited, crossing the parking lot towards the GAV. Dad unlocked the vehicle and the three piled in.

As soon as Fenton was seated in the backseat, Jazz turned to face him from her place in the front. “Your ghost half ran away to the Ghost Zone?!” Her eyes were wide, tone rising with exacerbation.

“Yes. We did but-” Fenton held on his hands.

“How could you do that, Danny?!” She pointed. “And how long ago was this?”

“Maybe...an hour and a half? But-”

“An hour and half?!” Jazz glared. “And you didn’t come get me! You didn’t even call-”

“Jazz.” Dad cut her off, voice uncharacteristically serious. “Stop berating your brother.” He turned to Fenton, expression softening. “The other you is safe?”

The human Danny nodded. “Yes.”

“And where is he?” The man calmly asked.

His eyes flickered out towards the school. “Still in the school.”

“What?” Jazz gapped.

Dad raised a brow. “Maddie said he ran off through the portal.”

“We...he did.” Fenton bit his lip. “But uh...long story short, he managed to find his way back.”

“How?” His sister asked.

“So...umm...apparently, there’s a portal to the Ghost Zone in one of the lockers? Phantom managed to find it and flew through it.”

“And he’s still in the school because?” Jazz sounded slightly skeptical.

“He’s making sure Sidney gets back to the Ghost Zone okay.” Fenton said plainly, the information suddenly entering his mind. “He’ll meet us out here soon.”

Dad’s brow furrowed. “Who’s Sidney?”

“Oh.” The boy blinked, realizing what he said. “He’s...uh...a ghost who helped the other me find the portal. They talked about ghost stuff and..” He met Dad’s eyes, tentatively. “Apparently, the ghosts have a word for what I am. I’m a halfa.”

His father’s eyes widened in response. For a long moment, he paused as if processing. Then he swallowed. “We can talk about all of that later but your mother….”

Fenton paled, looking down. “Oh...uhh...yeah.” He froze, anymore words dying in his throat.

Jazz broke the silence. “Where is Mom?”

Dad’s frown deepened. “She’s….” He trailed off as if it was too hard to continue.

More tense silence. There was a tickle in the back of his mind, Phantom wondering if Dad was still waiting in the parking lot. Fenton replied with the image in front of him.

Phantom responded. Wait for me. I’m coming.

The ghost’s more active presence withdrew before Fenton could reply. The human looked up. “Phantom will be here in less than a minute.”

True to what he said, his ghost self soon phased through the back of the GAV. He flickered into view beside his human self.

Dad and Jazz both flinched, surprised at the sudden appearance before relaxing.

Phantom bit his lip. “I’m here now. Sorry it took so long.”

“You didn’t have any trouble with the ghost, did you?” Dad asked, raising a brow.

The ghost boy shook his head. “Nope. Sidney’s cool. We had to finish our conversation.” For a second, Dad and Jazz looked like they wanted to ask. But Phantom continued before they could, his gaze flickering nervously around the van. “Where...where’s Mom?”

There was a pause before Dad started, tentatively. “Your mom….she…” He pulled out his phone. “She left me a message on my phone. Here...let me show you.”

Fenton and Phantom both said nothing, anxiety flaring as the man pulled up the voicemail.

“Jack! Pick up your phone!” Mom’s panicked voice rang through the phone. “Come on Jack! You need to pick up! Jack!” Her voice rose as she rambled. “Our son...our son, he ran off through the portal. Through the portal Jack! He...he came downstairs to talk to me and….I f-cked up Jack. I f-cked up!” Fenton flinched, shocked at the language.

“Oh god I...I...Jack, I screwed up.” Her voice wavered, sounding watery. “He...he said...he said he was upset with me and...and...oh god...I just yelled at him. I just sat there and yelled at him and….oh god, I f-cked up Jack.”

There was a clatter, the sound of quick footsteps. “He ran off and…. I need to fix this. I have to fix this. I….” She paused, determination entering her voice. “I’m going through the portal. I’m...I’m going to find our son and bring him home.” More clatter, metal thumping again metal. “Go pick up Jazz and the other Danny. Make sure they’re safe and tell them I love them. And I’ll see you soon, okay? I’ll see you soon and the rest of our son will be with me.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The message ended with a beep. There was a sudden, deep silence. After far too long, Phantom spoke. “She went...she went after us. Through the portal.”

Dad nodded grimly. “I went back to the house before coming to get you and she was gone.”

The ghost’s hands were shaking. “She’s….Mom’s in the Ghost Zone, looking for me. But…” He put his head in his hands. “I’m not there.”

“I know.” Dad said quietly. “You’re safe and...your mom is a capable woman. She’ll be okay.” He turned back to face the windshield. “We need to head home now, okay? We’ll find a way to get up with her and everything will be okay.”

Phantom really hoped so. He did. He took a seat beside Fenton, reaching for his seat belt at the same time the human reached for his. The ghost’s hand lingered over the lock. He hadn’t done this, hadn’t been in a car since he’d split himself, since he was still trying to pretend that he was a normal human. He buckled the seatbelt. Now he was a ghost and he was sitting in the back of the GAV and Mom was the one lost in the Ghost Zone. Suddenly, he wanted to zip right out of this car, through the roof and go home. He needed to find Mom, even if...even if-.

He shivered, a thousand possibilities tumbling around in his head. He’d managed to push it away for a time but what Mom had said to him before he ran off still tore at his heart. The anger had leaked out of him but he was still hurt and scared and confused. And now he was shook up after hearing that message. Mom cussed. She cussed. And she was panicking and scared and said she’d screwed up, that she’d had to fix this. She was determined to bring him home. Was she...maybe she was sorry? Maybe she...she got it now. And...he wanted to hope. He wanted to hope so bad but it hurt and he didn’t know what to do or think or-

Fenton leaned into him, interrupting his thought. There was a brief flash of worry and then...the human was taking deep, purposeful breaths, trying to calm down. Phantom needed to calm down too. He couldn’t panic, couldn’t worry about all this right now. Instead he leaned back into Fenton’s side and tried to relax. Passively, the two clasped hands.

“Danny?” Jazz’s voice interrupted, her eyes focusing on Phantom, who looked up in acknowledgement. “I’m happy you’re safe.” She bit her lip and the ghost boy knew she was nervous like he was. “It’s going to be okay.” The girl could have been saying that for his benefit or for her own.

In response, Dad’s gaze flickered towards his daughter and then at the two boy’s through the rearview mirror. His eyes rounded, worriedly but lovingly, before he focused back on the road as they turned a corner.

The vehicle flew down the road while the passengers sat in silence. For once, Dad’s fast driving was the least distressing thing on Phantom’s mind. And it was fitting, that the man was in such a hurry to get home and figure out what to do. But the ghost had already made up his mind.

After what somehow felt like the blink of an eye and hours at the same time, the vehicle pulled into the driveway and slammed to a stop. All the passengers unbuckled. In a breath, Phantom turned invisible.

Dad looked back, eyes widening. Jazz gasped in worry. “Danny!”

The boy huffed. “I’m still right here. I’m gonna stay invisible until we get in the house. I don’t exactly want the neighbors to see me.”

His sister sighed. “Alright.”

“Come on kids.” Dad said visibly relaxing.

Phantom exited the GAV, following his human self. He shivered in the air. Now that he was here, at the house, it was taking all his self control to not dart forward in front of his family and fly down to the lab, through the portal, and-

Fenton found his wrist without effort and led him to the front door without a word. Dad unlocked it and the kids followed him into the house. Once they’d passed the threshold, Phantom had had enough. With the door closed, he returned to visibility and raced across the living room, kitchen, and down the basement stairs. He stopped at the bottom, eyes falling on the still open portal.

Behind him, the sound of footsteps pounded. His sister’s and father’s worried voices rang out. But the ghost didn’t listen, too focused on the portal and the soft song emanating from it. A sound which he knew the purpose of and wasn’t as scared of anymore.

Fenton jogged through the door and hopped down the stairs with the rest of the family at his heels. The human stopped abruptly, coming to stand beside his ghost who then turned to face his father and sister.

“I need to go after her.” Phantom said quietly but with determination.

Jazz’s expression shifted, turning serious. “You can’t do that.”

“Jazz.” He started, testedly. “I need to help Mom. She’s only...she’s only there because of me and anything could be happening to her and-”

“Your Mom can handle herself.” Dad cut in, equally serious. “I don’t want you putting yourself in danger too.”

The human Danny frowned. “She went off without a plan. No supplies. No idea what she’d face. She’s probably lost.”

His sister argued. “And getting yourself lost wouldn’t help her!”

“I won’t get lost.” The ghost straightened, confidently. “Look. Mom’s not coming back on her own until she finds me. I’ve actually been in the Ghost Zone before. And I can fly. I can get us out of trouble if something happens and get both of us back in no time.”

Dad took a breath considering. “I understand that son. But...none of that will help you if you manage to get lost yourself. You don’t know how far away your mom is. And what if you do find her but get lost on the way back?”

“Mom couldn’t have gotten that far.“ Fenton insisted, holding up his arms. “And Phantom literally can’t get lost.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jazz rose a brow in challenge.

“I literally can’t get lost in the Ghost Zone.” The ghost deadpanned. He grabbed onto Fenton’s arm. “If other me stays here, I’ll always have a beacon to lead me back.”

Dad and Jazz’s brows both furrowed in confusion. “Really?” Dad frowned.

“That’s how he got back to the school earlier.” Fenton supplied. “We’re connected because ya know, same person. He followed that line back to me.”

Dad tilted his head. “You could use that to find your way back after you find your mom?”

Phantom nodded. “And Fenton can keep you guys updated. I can show or tell him what’s happening.”

Dad still looked confused, like he wanted to ask more but after a long moment, acceptance crossed his face. He conceded. “Alright. Go find your mom.” The ghost boy floated higher off the floor and turned to face to portal.

“Hold on a second.” Jazz interrupted. She stepped forward and hugged Phantom. “Be careful little brother.”

“Yeah. Of course.” Ghost Danny returned the hug before pulling away.

A second later, Dad was wrapping him up in a bear hug. “I love you and...I’m sorry.”

“I...it’s okay. I love you too.” He whispered, returning the hug. His core pulsed nervously. The memory of his conversation with Dad last night flashed through his mind. He might have understood what Dad was apologizing for. For how Mom acted, for not being there for that conversation. But either way- “It’s not your fault.”

Dad didn’t reply to the statement, squeezing his son a little tighter. “Hurry back but be safe Danny-boy.”

Phantom pulled away from his father and finally, his eyes fell on the one person left to address. He grabbed Fenton’s hand and squeezed. “I'll be back soon.”

The human put his other arm around him, pulling him into a hug. “I know. Go find her. And…” He bit his lip and the ghost could feel his worry at the idea of facing Mom again. “It’ll be okay...we’ll be okay.”

The ghost squeezed back. “Yeah. We will.” He pulled away before flying towards the portal. With one last look back, he dove through for the second time that day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Ghost Zone (World of the Dead? Infinite Realms?) was the same as the last time he’d entered. Swirling green, floating rocks, purple doors in the distance. But this time, he was more aware of his immediate surroundings. He paused, right outside of the portal to take in the environment. The portal’s frame was sitting on a shelf of rock. The shelf dropped off about ten feet in front of him. To either side, it dropped off after about twenty feet. He turned back around, facing the swirling green light. There was the portal but...what if he walked behind it?

There was in fact something behind it. The frame of the portal closed off in the back, forming a wall of sleek metal that reminded him of the lab at home. Phantom turned away from the frame, his back facing it. He frowned, spotting the edge of the rock again. It went all the way around, like the portal sat in the middle of an island or...he quickly floated over to the edge. The rock continued downward, like he was on the top of a mountain or a cliff.

He felt the shadow of his heart skip a beat. If Mom wasn’t up here, then had she fallen? His eyes desperately searched over the landscape for a scrap of blue, the color of his mom’s jumpsuit.

“Mom!” He called out. “Where are you?”

There was no reply, her form not in sight. Frantically, Phantom turned to the side. Still nothing. He flew to the front of the portal. “Mom!”

He then looked down, gasping. There was a tiny spot of blue, standing out in clear contrast to the green and brown landscape. It must have been hundreds of feet down, at the base of the structure. The boy started shaking, panic overtaking him. She’d...she’d fallen, hadn’t she? Was she hurt or...or….

His eyes then widened noticing something. The small dot of blue was moving. No, not just moving. But moving quickly as if the figure was running or jogging along a narrow strip of rock, away from him. Stepping off the ledge, the ghost started descending.

“Mom!” He tried again, to no response. Obviously, she couldn’t hear him.

Phantom dove faster, keeping his eyes pinned on the blue figure as it continued down the twisting path. The road, since that’s what it resembled, twisted back, forming stairs and sloping down under itself. Then it met another, darker colored strip, forming something like a crossroads.

The ghost boy flew closer as the figure jogged down the stairs. Then he paused, flinched at what sounded like a motorcycle engine. Reflexively, he flickered invisible. He glanced down the darker path at the crossroads. Something metal glinted in the dim light as the noise approached. Seconds later, the object materialized in the crossroads. It was in fact a motorcycle and...two glowing figures sat on the bike. The blue figure froze.

Phantom paled, his speed increasing. Seconds later, he landed above the crossroads at a raised part of the road. His back faced the stairs that the blue figure had just run down. His eyes widened as he recognized the scene.

In the crossroads, two ghosts, both of whom were in their early twenties, sat on a motorcycle. The man had greasy looking blonde hair and was wearing a biker jacket. Behind him sat a woman with green hair, in a red jacket and mini skirt.

“What is that?” The woman asked.

“Kitty, I think...that’s a human.” The other glowing figure’s voice rose in harsh disbelief. “What is a human doing here?”

The girl scowled, judgmentally. “And what are they wearing?”

The blue clad figure slowly approached, holding something long and metallic to their side. “I’m not looking for any trouble.” A familiar voice rang out, slightly desperate. “Please. I’m just trying to find my son.”

Phantom gasped, his core pulsing excitedly. That was his Mom’s voice. Mom! Mom was in front of him. She was okay. She was alive and walking around and….She was...being pinned by two unfamiliar ghosts.

The ghost boy stiffened at the sudden realization. He sprung into action, calling out. “Mom!”

The two ghosts looked in his direction, brows furrowing at his exclamation. “What was that?” The girl, Kitty, asked.

Phantom ignored the question, darting in between the ghostly couple and his Mom. He tensed, holding his arms out to shield her.

“What’s going on?” Mom startled, taking a step back. “What was that?”

The man’s brow furrowed. He blinked, eyes focusing on Phantom. Then he snorted. “Kid? You tryin’ ta mess with this human too?”

“Mess with?” He muttered. Then Phantom frowned, realization hitting him like a brick wall. He was still invisible. With a slight mental push, he reappeared.

“Danny?” Mom’s disbelieving voice rang out behind him. Then it shifted into something relieved and hopeful. “Danny!”

The boy turned to the side. “Mom.” The same relief was in his voice.

The woman dropped her weapon. She took a step forward until she was close enough to touch. Mom reached out but Phantom was faster. Before he could really think about it, he was clinging to the woman from the side. “Mom! I found you.”

Mom was shaking. Her hand reached up to run fingers through his hair. “Danny. Baby, you’re okay.”

“Yeah, I’m okay.” He squeezed her. “And you’re...you’re not hurt or….”

Near the pair, someone snorted. “Mama’s boy.” Then there was yelp. “Ow. What’d you elbow me for?!”

“Give him a break Johnny.” The green haired woman chastised. “He’s what? Twelve?”

Phantom scowled, turning his head towards the other ghosts. “I’m fourteen!”

“Same difference.” The man waved him off.

Ghost Danny stepped away from his mother again. Now that he knew she was really here and uninjuried, he turned his attention back to the other ghosts, though he did cast a worried look behind him.

“So…” The man, Johnny, looked between the two, a curious if slightly up-to-no-good expression on his face. “How did a human end up here?”

“None of your business.” Mom said quickly, seriously.

Johnny raised a brow. “Some ritual to contact your dead son gone wrong?” Phantom and his mother both flinched at the word. “Found a thin spot and you waited for a portal to open.”

“Like she said.” The ghost boy glared. “It’s none of your business.”

The man smirked, opening his mouth to retort but Kitty elbowed him again. “Leave them alone Johnny. Let’s go.”

“Come on kitten. There’s a good story here.”

The young woman crossed her arms. “We’re going to Ember’s party. We’ll be late if you don’t hurry up.”

“Fine. I’m going.” Johnny rolled his eyes. Placing his hands on the handles, he pumped the gas. “See you ‘round kid.”

The two ghosts speed off, Phantom watching them warily until they disappeared into the distance. Finally, he relaxed, turning around to face the woman. For a moment, he hovered. After the initial hug, he was at a loss for what to do. He’d found Mom and she was physically okay. They should head home-

Mom quickly stepped forward, wrapping her arms around him without hesitation. “Danny baby.” She gently cupped the back of his head. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Somehow, with the stress of the confrontation over, she sounded more relieved than before. Her voice broke, sounding watery. “I shouldn’t...I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I shouldn’t have said that. But I love you. I love you so much, baby.”

The ghost listened to the words, his eyes tearing up. But he didn’t have it in him to return the hug. He didn’t pull away either. Instead he stood there, torn in two directions. He was happy, so happy that his Mom was safe. And the lack of hesitation, the words. They were exactly what he wanted to hear but…..

“It’s okay. You’re okay. It’s going to be okay, Danny. I love you so much.”

What was with the change in attitude? Well, he did run off to another dimension, after telling Mom that he didn’t think she loved him. And well...oh god he had no idea what to think. This was too much. Too much. He needed to just get them home and-

Mom pulled away, peering at him with tearfilled eyes. She gently cupped his face. “Danny baby. Look at me.” Obediently, he shifted his eyes up, to maintain her gaze. But it was a struggle as tears welled in his eyes and his lip quivered. “I love you.” The woman breathed. “I love this you. I love Fenton….” He averted his gaze from her eyes, an ache piercing his core. “And I love Phantom. I love both parts of you. You’re a part...you’re a part of my son. And I love this part.” Her voice wavered, tears falling down her face. “I shouldn’t...I shouldn’t have made you think that I didn’t, that I wouldn’t love you because you’re a ghost but-”

Suddenly looking down again, Phantom pulled away. Damnit, damnit, damnit! This hurt too much. He couldn’t stay here, couldn’t do this, could’t hear her say those words when...when….

Mom’s expression fell. Slowly, she lowered her hand and didn’t reach for him again. “You’re still upset with me?”

Numbly he nodded. Yes, yes he was. Because they’d done this before. He’d heard her say this before, that she loved all of him and then she’d contradicted it with her actions. And he couldn't...he couldn’t hope again, he couldn’t trust again. It was too good to be true. It was-

“That’s alright.” Mom finally said. “You should be upset with me. I deserve that. But I do...I do lo-”

Another stab at his core. “We should get out of here.” Phantom cut her off. “We can have this conversation later, once we’re back through the portal.”

Somehow, Mom’s expression became even more heartbroken but she didn’t argue. “Come on then.” She started turning back the way she’d come.

“I was going to fly us back.” Phantom said plainly.

The woman turned back around. “Oh of course.” Her frown deepened, studying him. “You’re going to carry me?”

His shoulder’s fell, pouting. “You know that I’m perfectly capable of that.”

“That’s not what I meant, sweetie.” She said gently, taking a step forward. “How do you want to do this?”

Phantom hesitated for a moment. “Here, put one arm around my neck.” The woman did so. “And I’ll grab your legs. Now hold on.” The ghost grabbed her legs, adjusted the woman so he was holding her legs and back with his arms. Both her arms looped around his neck. Slowly, he rose off the ground. “Don’t look down.”

A small forced smile unfurled her lips. “I won’t.”

The boy hummed, looking up at their destination. “How did you get all the way down here anyway?”

“I climbed.” Mom said plainly.

“You climbed?” He rose a brow in disbelief.

“It was the only option.” She muttered. “I had to find you, Danny.” There was no anger, no judgement. Just the determination, the desperation he’s heard from her earlier.

Ghost Danny didn’t reply, looking at the portal again. Well, it turned out, he had found her instead of the other way around.

Mom bit her lip. “It really scared me, when you ran off. But...we’re going home now.” She looked at him earnestly. “Everything will be okay. I’ll...I’ll find a way to make all of this up to you.”

Oh god. He hoped...he hoped he could believe her. He wanted to but...time would tell.

Endnote: Thanks for reading! I'm also going to take some time to pump up my Invisobang story. It's 76K, guys! That's literally the second longest fic I've ever written. Posting day is August 23rd so please check it out when it comes out (For the angst, clones, identity crises, friendship, sibling bonding, and Frostbite being a good mentor/dad.)

#Danny Phantom #danny fenton #split danny #double danny #Face To Face #my fic

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yminie · 4 years ago

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nine one one | tres | fin | pjm (m)

pairing: Jimin x reader genre/warnings: angst, fluff, oldflame!pairing, detective!jimin, firstresponder!reader, mentions of death, mentions of murder, mentions of mental health problems, mentions of weapons, explicit language, implied stalking, physical assault, fight scenes, mentions of blood, implied attempt at sexual assault, smut, brief oral sex (female recieving), unprotected penetrative sex. words: 15.3k summary: Your living nightmare has found its way into your home, and you’re all alone.

a/n: it only took me a year (sobs), but it’s finally here!! Thank you so much for all your support over the past two years with this storyline, and I hope you’ve all loved detective Jimin as much as I have! I love you guys so much, and I hope you enjoy it! Lemme know what your think <3

**********

Prev. on Nine-One-One;

Warmth grows in your chest at Jimin’s return, and you stretch out your legs from where they’d been tucked up close to your body as you await the call of your name or perhaps the familiar clicking of his shoes as he crosses your entryway to return to where he’d left you.

But like the night shadows drown the sun’s light, the warmth quickly freezes over into chilling terror as a dark silhouette moves across the room silently, not a sound following his gentle footsteps as he passes between you and the only light in the room. The blue glow of the charger dock sitting on the table against the far wall casting an eerie glow over his form, and just as terrifyingly outlining the fact that his height is a good head taller, and his shoulders are a decent few inches wider than they should be.

And as he makes his way far too confidently towards the hallway leading to your room, and that eerie blue light glints off a large silver shape in his hand, you come to the tearful conclusion that you’re right.

Jimin did not just enter your apartment.

And you have no idea who did.

**********

Fear has you stuck in place, lungs burning as you hold your breath, and only the hushed sound of his feet brushing across the carpet is to be heard. The shape of him gets fuzzier by the second until he’s too far down the hallway to clearly make out his silhouette, and finally your instincts kick in as you carefully slip from the couch and down onto your hands and knees on the floor, heart racing as you crawl as fast as you can behind the couch.

Back flat against the surface, you hear him again as he returns from what you assume to be looking in your room, but his footsteps this time are more stilted, each brush just a few milliseconds off to the last to seem like a normal pace, and it has your panic levels rising even further. You already know for a fact that your phone is up on the breakfast bar just a few metres in front of you, but you can’t bring yourself to move at the risk of him spotting you.

When he comes to a stop across the room, you can’t help but to risk a lean over to the right side of the couch and carefully peer past the corner. Your heart batters harder against the base of your throat at the dark shape of his body stood directly in front of the charging dock, the light bright in the absence of the city’s glow, and you can clearly see the shape of a rounded nose and sharp jaw. Eyes keen on soaking up every detail, you watch with a sense of disturbance as he gently plucks a photo from the stand before him and tilts it towards the light in an effort to see better.

He doesn’t grab your belongings with the aura of someone touching a stranger's things, but with the attitude of a person in their own apartment, merely giving a moment's attention to something they own, and the sight has bile creeping up the back of your tongue.

It feels like forever, the time that passes as you merely sit in eerie silence and watch with burning eyes as he slowly makes his way around the room, stopping at every shelf and surface to touch and hold even the smallest of trinkets that decorate your living room. Filling you with such discomfort and sadness that, you know already, you’ll never be able to look at any of the mementos and photo frames the same way after he’s gone.

You flinch when he turns suddenly, his left side to you now, and the dread swirling in your abdomen even seems to freeze as his features are once more sent into shadows, and he walks confidently to the curtains lining the majority of your apartment, hiding you both away from the world.

It’s barely possible to hold in the cry of shock that chokes its way up your throat when he reaches up and, with two hands, rips the curtains away from the wall with a loud crash.

Back hitting the couch again with a thud, you press a closed fist to your lips to hold all of the panic inside as your eyes squeeze shut against the sudden onslaught of light, and the beginning of the weekend nightlife is bustling away beneath the two of you, oblivious to the happenings right above their heads.

It’s sickening to imagine how many times you’ve been just as unaware as them.

Your whole body tenses up as his feet slide closer to where you’re hidden, and he paces a few steps before spinning on his heel and doing the same in the other direction, moving back and forth in front of the window as you shut your eyes tight and ignore the ache of your muscles. Distantly, you register the muted sound of a dial tone behind the crackle of his shoes over broken plastic and fabric, but it’s the shock of a fuzzy, familiar voice suddenly filling the space around you that has the fear truly setting in your bones.

“Hello, what is your emergency?”

**********

“Ah, yeah, hello?” Taehyung stands in his apartment, back stiff straight as he stares hard at the wall of his kitchen as if he could see through it into your apartment. “I’d like to request an ambulance, and possibly police too.”

“What seems to be the problem, sir?” The first responder on the other end of the line sounds tired, just as Taehyung imagines he would be this time of the night, but it’s even more so in comparison to the way his own body is hyped up with anxiety, ears keen as they listen out for any other crashes coming from your apartment next door. The sound hadn’t been too loud, but it was clashing enough to tell him it hadn’t come from his side of your place, but rather the other end, where he knew your kitchen was located.

The thought of you falling or dropping a plate crossed his mind, but it just didn’t seem to compare to the way the noise had truly made him feel.

“It’s-I heard a loud crashing noise from my neighbours apartment.” The clicking of the responders fingers are fast on the keys of the computer he’s imaging in front of him, and he pauses before speaking again. “And she’s all alone in there most of the time.”

“And she’s not someone prone to making noise? What was the address?”

“No.” Taehyung steps closer to the wall as he lists off the location, so close now to the front door. So close to just going over to check on you himself. “She makes none at all. She’s very quiet usually, I-” He pauses again, deaf to the sound of the general noise coming through the phone as he loses himself to his thoughts. “I’m scared something is really wrong. It just feels really off.”

“I’ll have the closest officer inbound and you’re on the list for the next available medical response, but I apologise since there’s no guarantee of injury or crime,” a few seconds tick by and Taehyung’s heart pounds with worry for you, “our response unit is done by priority so it could take some time as nights like these can be very busy, okay? Be sure to ring back should the situation escalate.”

“Okay.” His throat is dry. “Thank you.”

He doesn’t look away from the wall, merely places his phone down on the counter.

The waiting is almost worse than the fear.

***********

“Hello, what is your emergency?” The loudspeaker on the strangers phone is entirely too loud in the tense silence of your dark apartment, and you shiver uncontrollably at the sound of Taemin’s voice. There’s a tickle in your throat that itches for you to speak up, to yell for help from your friend, but you know it would be useless.

They’re nowhere near you, and lord only knows all the possibilities of things that could happen to you before anyone reaches you.

“I want to speak to the detective.” Head pressed to the back of the couch and body tight with stress, your eyes press shut as the voice of your nightmares echoes in your head, and you ignore the tears as they start to bud on your lashes.

“I’m sorry, you can’t be using this call line for non-emergency calls. We have the office number you can find on our website between the hours of–”

“What if it is an emergency.” His voice is colder than you remember, more than a little empty, and the complete 180 degree turn his attitude had taken from the last time you’d spoken was almost haunting. “What if it’s the worst emergency he could ever face.”

That sickening, burning feeling is back in your stomach, the same as the night you’d woken up in Jimin’s arms on the couch, and you fight against your tongue when you try to swallow. The semi-conscious part of your mind is fighting to remind you that he hasn’t seen you, he doesn’t know where you are. But you can’t seem to beat the way your body is growing evermore repulsed purely at his presence in your apartment.

More than a few seconds tick by, Taemin’s side of the call quiet all but the clicking of his keyboard as he types in a rush. Before they pause.

“It’s you, isn’t it?”

The heavy clang and thundering rattle of your window vibrating in its frame bashes around in your head when the stranger lashes out at it with a tightly closed fist, and you can see the shadow on the floor between the breaking blur of tears as he presses his hand flat against the surface with a snarl.

“I know he’s there, you’d better get him or else I’ll–”

There’s the clatter of the phone being transferred from one person to another, and you can faintly hear the indistinct noise of Taemin frantically speaking to someone on the other end before being hushed.

“Hello?” Hoseok’s voice comes over the line and you tense up even further, mind running wild with the possibility of where Jimin could be. “This is Detective Jung, you’re looking to talk to my partner?”

“Don’t want to talk to you. Don’t fucking–” The strangers head whips to the side, and you can see the silhouette of his features distorted and stretched in his shadow, and a lonely tear drips from your chin to the carpet with a noise far too loud for how sensitive your ears are. “Where is he?”

“You want Jimin right?” The stranger's feet drag as he takes a step to the side, shoulder coming into your peripheral view as he staggers a little, body looking off kilter as he hunches over before straightening once more. The way his body moves is unnerving, something not quite right in the way he seems to tense and relax repeatedly, hand fisting at his side sporadically. “I can get him for you. Can you wait just one minute?”

“Don’t like to wait.” He sounds distracted as he grunts, crushing a piece of plastic further under his foot as he peers down at the streets below. “Waited long enough.”

“I’ll get him for you.” There’s a rattle as the discarded earpiece hits the desk, and as the crunching beneath the strangers feet gets louder, the hushed whispering on Taemin’s end gets louder. The more frantic they get, the more agitated he becomes, vein in his neck throbbing as his head jerks to one side, muscles coiled and ready to pounce. A lot like your own, legs aching from being so tightly wound with stress.

There’s an abrupt break in the dull noise and chatter before the gentle chime of hold music cuts through, and then the hiss of white noise and the rev of a car's engine. And Jimin.

“This is Detective Park.” His voice sounds guarded from the moment he speaks, and you assume Hoseok had spoken to him quickly before handing the call over. “What is it that I can do for you?”

“Wanted to say–” His head jerks again, swallowing as though the words are hard to get out. “Thank you, hyung.”

“Huh?” Jimin’s front disappears, clearly caught too off guard to keep his usual composure.

“All the years of being so selfish, you finally did something for me.” The stranger's tone is awfully bittersweet, and it sends chills down your spine. “I’m happy. Things can be much more simple this way.”

“And what way is that?” There’s the blare of a car horn cutting through Jimin’s words, and you hear his car rev even harder as he drives as fast as he can during no doubt lots of peak hour traffic.

“You left her alone.” Your heart feels hollow, heaviness sinking into your stomach like that’s where it decided to fall, and your lower lip shakes before you hold it tight between your teeth, enough for an iron tang to coat your tongue. “I can...finally take care of her. The way she deserves.”

“Listen to me.” You’ve never heard Jimin’s voice sound so dark and thunderous, and it makes goosebumps pimple the skin of your exposed arms. “I’m only going to say this once, Jungkook.”

‘Jungkook’ stiffens, breath pushing through his nose in a huff before he starts to breathe roughly, a grating in his lungs like he can’t quite get enough air in. And it’s then you register just who you’ve been looking at, the person you recognized in the elevator, the boy behind the desk in the lobby of your apartment building…

The same boy who’d been so young and timid when he’d approached you in the lunchroom at the station, stammering and shaking as he’d confessed how pretty you were, and how he’d like to know if you wanted to come to the cafe across the street for lunch.

The same boy Jimin had laughed at, ruffled the hair of, and teasingly told that you weren’t free real estate. That he had kissed you right in front of; Jungkook’s expression tight, embarrassed, and whispered in your ear how ‘cute’ it was that you’d gained an admirer. Not seeing the way the young cadet's face had pinched and the way his frame had caved in to make himself seem smaller.

The same boy you’d defended with a gentle push and a light giggle against Jimin’s chest, telling him not to tease. Jungkook hadn’t looked at you when you thanked him for the compliment, or apologised for Jimin’s well-intended need to poke fun. In fact he didn’t look at you much after that...and you didn’t care enough to notice. You couldn’t even pinpoint the last time you’d seen him and recognized him, remembered his name or said hello. He’d merely faded into the background of your life along with the crowd. And the guilt feels nauseating as it creeps like thorny tendrils up your throat, choking the air from your lungs.

“If you even think for one second that you’re going to get as close to her as you did today ever again, you have another thing coming.” The more Jimin speaks the colder your blood runs, and you can’t help but note the irony of his words. “I’m not going to leave her side, not even once you’re gone. I’m going to catch you, Jungkook, and when I do, you’d better hope karma doesn’t catch up to you with me.”

Jungkook starts to shudder in front of you, and it takes you a tense second to realise he’s laughing. Chuckles wracking his chest until he wheezes for breath, and you can barely hear Jimin still talking over the sound of his husky coughing.

“Locking you in a psych ward would be a mercy for you, Jungkook. You’ll be lucky if Hoseok gets to you before I do.”

“Oh, hyung.” Jungkook giggles but Jimin isn’t done.

“You’ve gotten messy Jungkook, and today is the end of your little game.” Jimin grunts, the car revving again, and you pray he’s on his way to you. Unsure how long this can be dragged out before Jungkook snaps and rips your apartment apart, no doubt finding you in the process and carrying out whatever god-awful plans he’d had in mind tonight. “Your plan is over, she’s not going to be one of your victims. But you’ll be one of mine, that I can guarantee you.”

“It’s all mine, hyung.” Jungkook stops giggling, going so still and stone-faced it’s almost too haunting to witness. “This life. Being here with her. It was always meant to be me.” Jungkook's head hits the glass of your window with a heavy thud, and you jump in shock. Your eyes are still leaking slowly with tears, growing more blurry and stinging the longer you stare, and through your muddled thoughts, you’ve forgotten yourself.

So when he finally turns, the glow of the city haloing his face as he drops the phone in his hand to the floor with a clatter, his eyes lock onto yours instantly, where you’ve leant too far out of the safety of your hiding spot. And Jungkook’s lips twist in a shaky smile as he raises his voice. “She’s tried so hard to hide for you, hyung.”

Jimin doesn’t reply, and you’d almost think the line was cut could you not hear the struggle of him trying to speed through unseen traffic. Your eyes slips from Jungkook’s face to the phone discarded at his feet, tears dripping to the carpet once again, and it takes the crackle of debris under his shoe to note he’s turning further toward you, and its then you see the glint of the large dagger reappearing in his hand

“I ‘can’t get near her’?” Jungkook’s words have your eyes quickly lifting to meet his again, and you can’t even tell how badly you’re shaking, nails painfully dug into the carpet as he twists his neck to the side with a dull crack. “I don’t think your car is that fast, Jimin-hyung.”

Torn from your throat is the scream that shatters the silence, numb legs scrambling underneath you as he takes his first step in your direction, and you stumble over your own feet before picking up speed and shooting as fast as you can down the hallway. Your heart thunders in your ears as you feel the vibrations of Jungkook’s feet slapping even harder against the floor behind you, and it’s by sheer miracle that you manage to tear through the door to your bedroom seconds before he can catch up.

The slam of the door behind you hurts your arms with the force with which you push it, back pressed flat against it as you pray to whatever god might hear you for help. The sobs that are escaping you go without your notice, heaving pulls for air as you desperately try to blink the tears from your eyes and you cry out loud as the door is almost pushed out from behind you, wood creaking as Jungkook slams against with an almost inhumane sound of anger.

“_____... let me in before I have to hurt you.” You’re frozen against the door, heels pressed painfully into the floor as you hold the door in place with all the strength you can muster. And for a few seconds you almost believe it's working, hope creeping up your spine that you can hold him off long enough for someone to come to your aid.

The door shakes with a loud clunking noise right beside your head, before all attempts of penetration stop, and your head whips to the side as you listen to his footsteps start to retreat, heart thrashing in your hollow chest.

And then movement catches your eye across the room, and you compute the creeping of his shadow coming from your adjoining bathroom with a shriek as you scramble for the doorknob beside you.

Only for the knob to loosely rattle in the frame, mechanism broken from the outside, and you then realise your mistake. The reality of how trapped you are sinking in as he steps out into your line of sight, bloody knuckles and fingers red from his efforts. And you shrink into yourself in the corner of your room, eyes sliding shut as you begin to sob in fear once more.

His footsteps are deafening in the silence, the heavy sigh he releases as his feet come into your blurred vision humidly warm on the back of your necks as he leans down, bent at the waist. A cold chill runs down your spine when you feel his fingers on your hair, nails slipping in close to your scalp and filling your mouth with bile at the feeling of stickiness on his skin dragging through the strands.

Slowly, he crouches down, filling your nose with a sharp combination of fresh sweat, blood and an almost alarmingly clean scent. Disinfected. Citrus. Bleach. The way one may smell after visiting a hospital. And it burns. Singes through your noise and has every last inch of your body cringing in discomfort.

“Look at me.” His voice is alarmingly soft, almost sickly in its sweetness, and your skin crawls as he strokes through your hair again, playing with it with that same air of familiarity that he’d portrayed in the living room. Moving naturally as though he’d done so a million times over, his hand slips down to the back of your neck, cupping a cold chill around your nape with freezing fingers that has you shrinking even further into yourself. Every nerve ending in your body screaming at you to get away from him. “_____.”

The next few beats of silence are shattered as he rips his hand from your hair, stinging pains of tangled strands being pulled from the tender area of skin pulling another sob from your throat as his now free hand cracks against the wall beside you with force. You straighten up instantly, eyes clenched tight, not having to look to know the plaster is caved in around his fist and only able to feel slightly thankful the lash of anger hadn’t been directed at your body.

“Look at me!” You can feel the drops of spittle hitting your face and he screams hoarsely, voice cracking on the last word as the now even more injured hand returns to your chin to pull your attention. And with a shuddering breath that feels void of oxygen, your head spinning too much to focus properly as the adrenaline and fear spikes in your blood, you force your eyes open to land on his hallowed face.

Jungkook is far from the way he had lived in your memory. Bigger, yet more hollow. Stronger, but with a weakness floating just beneath the surface waiting to be broken. Older, and somehow still seeming so young behind the pain in his eyes. The Jungkook sat before you had physically grown, but mentally his pain is real, raw, as though it were just yesterday you’d managed to tear his heart apart and leave him cracked and broken at the seams. The only solace he’d found to hold himself together being the anger that lives now in his core, the expression being that of someone that loves you, but the energy of someone that has nothing but hatred in his being for you.

So many emotions are conveyed in his eyes, it’s hard to look at, but the terror you feel has you unable to look away, as though watching a hundred cars crash together at once.

“Don’t cry, I’m gonna take care of you.” Gut wrenching, you flinch as his hand lifts to brush stickiness over the tear tracks under your eyes, and you can feel the thickness of blood now streaking your face and suffocating your pores. He leans in close, breath washing over your cheeks, and you can feel the cool of the wet spots his fingers had left behind.

“Please don’t kill me.” The whisper is ripped from your raw throat before you can stop it, the chill in your hands and feet reaching all the way through your arms, legs and torso, as though he’d reached right through your ribs and grabbed a hold of your heart.

“He can’t have you.” The venom is back in his voice as he twitches, hand shaking under your chin before he moves it down to brush his fingers over your exposed clavicle, running a careful thumb right over your carotid artery, and you flinch away again as his fingers stray even further down towards your breasts, his breathing starting to come in pants before he groans. “Can’t.”

Crowding into your space, Jungkook leaves no room for you to dodge his advance as his grip returns bruisingly on your jaw and he pushes forward to press his lips against yours. His kiss is hard, painful and wet, with the moisture on your face. His tongue slips in around the cry of shock that escapes you, and for a few nauseating seconds you’re subjected to what you can only think he imagines to be a passionate kiss.

You turn your face in an attempt to break the kiss, but he follows you, hand pushing back across the left side of your face to curve around your ear and pull your lips back to his, leaving an agonising spike of pain behind as he jarr’s your neck in the process. Your hands are trapped against his chest, pressing futilely, unable to gather enough strength in your arms to push him away.

In one last desperate attempt, you open your mouth into his kiss and as his tongue slides across your lip and back into your mouth, you quickly bare down and bite his tongue as hard as you can. Blood is coating the back of your teeth when he rips away from you, and you spit it out without a second thought, flinching as he changes like a lightswitch. “No! Mine! You’re mine!”

In a flash the desperate softness is gone, the hollow emptiness back in his eyes as he grabs you by the throat and pulls you from the faux security of your corner with a painful tug. You wheeze as he pulls you close, wrapping the dagger-wielding arm around your waist and using his hold to twist your feet out from under you and push you backwards in the direction of your bed.

“Can’t have you–can’t have you. Won't let him.”

It’s your body's natural instinct to struggle, and struggle you do. Arms pinned under his are barely of use, but you thrash them anyway, unable to scream with the pressure he still holds on your neck, but your throat muscles contract painfully under his hand regardless. Only managing an airy screech, you break off into a choked gasp as the cold of the dagger finds its way onto your skin through your shirt, moments before he releases his hold and lets your weakened body drop back onto the bed.

The moment his hold is relinquished on your airways you’re gasping for air and bunching your legs up towards your chest as he rushes to climb utop you. Every self defense masterclass Jimin had ever made you take flashes through your mind as his hips quickly move in to press against the backs of your thighs, and you muster all the strength you can in your arms to lifts them right as he swoops in and brace your splayed palms firmly against the front swells of his shoulders.

Jungkook bares down against you with his entire body weight, and even as the both of you grunt in effort, his hold on the dagger limits his mobility just enough, too focused on getting his body as flush to yours as he can. The fingers of the hand not holding his weapon are slipping under your waistband, sticky, cold fingertips clawing at your bare flesh in struggle, and encouraging your efforts as you keep your arms locked at the elbows and plant your left foot on the bed. Jimin’s voice is in the back of your head, screaming the instructions at you over and over again, and you quickly twist to the left, right leg curling up even further until your foot can find the bend of his pelvis.

The pressure of your foot pushing him forces the hand on your hip to tear back out from inside your pants and clutch at the bed, trying to keep his stability, and hope reignites in your chest as he sways long enough for your hold to slip from his shoulders to just above his elbows. From here you have enough mobility to bring your left leg up to match the right on his other hip, effectively trapping him where he is and keeping him slightly off kilter.

The fabric underneath you makes it harder to move up the bed away from him as he pushes against you with a growl of anger, frustration clearly getting to him as he struggles to retrieve the power you’ve managed to regain. But with a relieved sob, the strength of your legs is just enough to have him slipping back on his knees, increasing the space between your bodies with only a slight struggle.

His anger mounts to the point where he attempts to lash out again, losing his grasp on the dagger somewhere in the sheets as he tries to pull back out of your hold, swaying only for a moment before attempting to swing the momentum towards you. Yet with a flash of movement, and the miracle of space between you, your leg rears back far enough to get some force behind it, and with your hands slipping down to claw a rough grip on his wrists, you deliver a swift, straight-on kick to his stomach.

Visibly winded, Jungkook forgets his advancement on you with a pained gasp, falling far enough back to slip half off the edge of the bed, barely catching one leg under him on the floor and one knee on the mattress as he curls over on himself and dry heaves a sob of absolute torture.

Taking the small window of chance you have, you don't look twice – rolling off to the side and falling onto the floor yourself. Ignoring the pain in your knees, as you scramble your limbs under you, and make a break for the bathroom doorway.

The roar of pure rage behind you has every hair on your body standing on end, and you scream as you slip on the bathroom tiles, almost losing your footing before you manage a hold on the bathroom counter. Dashing off to the left once you’re stable enough, you try your best to ignore the crash of Jungkook’s pursuit as he collides with the door behind you and seemingly breaks it right off its hinges.

He’s still affected by the aftershocks of your kick, gasping and staggering as his body tries to recover while he still pushes himself, but you’re equally struggling as your nerves are locked up with anxiety, legs stiff and uncoordinated as his growing proximity has you panicking. Right after you tear out into the hall, arm brushing against the wall as you swerve, he clashes with the plaster right behind you, reaching out and swiping at you roughly with the dagger. And you can hear the whistle of the blade slicing through the air, missing you by millimetres...the first time

“Help me, ple–ah!” You shout as the dagger manages to catch you on an upsweep, grazing your shoulder and sending a burning pain instantly across the area of skin. You grab your shoulder, staggering again before picking up the pace and finally escaping the hall into the openness of your living area. “Help!”

“No!”

As you manage to round the island in the centre of your kitchen, Jungkook finally comes to a stop on the opposite end of the table. There, the two of you stand-off in a tense silence, staring hard at each other as you both pant for breath. He spits a mouthful of blood out onto the countertop, a streak of it marring his chin before he lifts an equally bloody hand and swipes at it, careless of the proximity of the weapon he holds as he spreads the red stain further across his skin.

Neither of you move for a good few moments, and as you start to catch your breath, and the ringing in your ears starts to wind down, you hear it.

Sirens. Loud. And getting closer by the second. And–

“_____!” Taehyung’s voice cuts through the tension, the door to your apartment rattling as he bashes into it from the outside. “_____! Let me in, what’s going on? Are you okay?”

“N–No! NO! YOU’RE MINE. MINE! HE DOESN’T GET THE HAPPINESS I DESERVED!” Jungkook steps to the side, as if to dash around the island towards you, but you immediately counter his movement with a step of your own, closer to the apartment door, and he immediately corrects himself and steps back, which you mirror.

“_____! The code! What’s the code?!” Taehyung is desperate, and it has Jungkook panicking even more, head whipping off to the side before snapping back to you.

“It's over, Jungkook.” You whisper, calming down faster as you listen to the sirens get even closer. They’re right outside now, and you know it’s only a minute or two before they get up here. But as you watch, Jungkook starts to shake with fury, and faster than you can comprehend, he’s flicking the dagger in his hand to pinch the blade between forefinger and thumb before lining up his shot and readying himself to launch it at you.

You won’t be able to move fast enough, this much you know instantly, and the sudden confrontation has you panicking, eyes wide with shock and pulling a smirk on his lips as he watches your expression change.

“If I can’t have you, _____. No one can.”

“Taehyung! The code is 64785!” You act on survival instinct, hands grabbing ahold of the counter as Jungkook’s arm rears back, and you can hear the beeping of Taehyung entering the code immediately, hope blooming in your chest.

But dread is what holds onto your heart like cement.

“I’m going to kill your friend.” Jungkook’s voice is merely a poisonous whisper, and as fast as you can register his words, he’s moving. The small throwing knife he has procured in his left hand whips through the air faster than you can move. You throw yourself to the side, regardless, not even registering the chime of your apartment door unlocking or the crash of Taehyung breaching the entryway.

Pain flares through your right arm as the knife embeds itself through a decent amount of flesh, a shriek leaving you as you sway off to the side and collapse to the floor. But the sight of the two men before you colliding in the entryway of your apartment is what truly leaves pain stabbing through your heart.

Taehyung barely manages to throw a punch in Jungkook’s direction, too distracted with your collapse and not enough on the opponent in front of him, and in one short, swift movement, Jungkook curls his arm between them, and pierces the blade right into Taheyung’s stomach.

“NO!” The scream that rips from your throat is dry and burning, and tears well up anew in your eyes with a feeling akin to needles. Futile, you struggle on the floor with only one good arm, immediately beginning to crawl towards the pair as Taehyung drops to his knees, eyes wide and gasping up at Jungkook’s still form.

Jungkook let’s go as Taehyung falls, leaving the dagger embedded in his abdomen and turning to you with an empty look. You can still hear Taehyung fighting for air as Jungkook takes his next steps towards you, watching with an almost numb expression as you whimper and battle with your own body to move backwards away from his approach.

“_____!” The two of you have barely a moment to freeze in place as heavy footsteps scatter into the hallway outside your apartment, and Jungkook cracks. You can barely hear your own noises of panic as he launches himself at you, scrambling to do whatever he can to reach you but Jimin is faster. You can only watch as Jungkook spins on his heel to meet him head on, as Jimin crashes into him.

They fall hard in front of you, Jimin immediately gaining the upper hand and rearing above Jungkook to rain a heavy fist down over his face, but Jungkook recovers faster than you’d have expected, hand pulling from his side with a glint of silver, and Jimin’s name leaves you in dry shriek as Jungkook swipes up from underneath and tries to stab into his chest.

Jimin manages to jerk back fast enough, the thin blade now in Jungkook’s hand only managing to very slightly slice through Jimin’s shirt and over his stomach before the knife is knocked from his hand, but you heave and scramble up onto your knees as a sliver of blood is left behind and Jungkook is rearing back for another attempt. He uses his advantage of having gotten Jimin off balance over him, lifting his body and using the space between them to land a well placed palm into his jaw, and you sob as Jimin’s back and head hit the floor with a dull thud.

You move in synchrony with Jungkook, lifting yourself up even as your legs scream beneath you. The dazed, pained look on Jimin’s face and the sight of Jungkook getting the upper hand, wide, bloody palms wrapping tight around Jimin’s neck and the choked sound that escapes him filling you with enough energy to launch yourself forward.

“Jimin!” Hoseok finally appears in the doorway in your peripheral vision. “_____! Fuc–!”

Jungkook howls and jerks under you as you pierce his back with the blade you’d ripped from your own arm, the blood covering your hand making it harder to hold it firm but the pure blind panic filling your every sense keeping your grip tight even as he twists off Jimin and attempts to face the new attack.

Twice, three times, four–eight–eleven–nineteen, thirty.

You have no idea how many times your fist plunges the blade into Jungkook’s abdomen, losing time in the grey haze that settles over your mind.

“_____! Jesus, fuck, baby stop! He’s dead, baby, stop!”

Jimin holds you tight, battling the way you thrash and twist in his arms as he attempts to catch your chin and tilt your face towards his. You’re gagging on your own gasps, whimpering and pushing at his chest as he drags you further away from where Jungkook’s body lays prone between the back of your couch and the island. The knife he’d wrangled free of your fist lays somewhere in the splattered pool of blood that halo’s Jungkook’s form.

Slowly, slowly, you come to, and the moment your body recognizes the safety and warmth of Jimin’s embrace, you sag into his arms with a heavy sob, clutching at him tighter than ever as more voices fill the room.

But nothing else matters now, because the only thing you can hear is his heart as yours beats in sync.

**********

You haven’t a clue what time it is, staring blankly at the wall of Jimin’s office as people rush back and forth outside the glass windows. Only thin slivers of light make it through the shuttered blinds, casting beams of white that barely manage to light up the room. Shivering again, you tuck your feet tighter beneath you on the leather chair, Jimin’s blazer pulled tight around your shoulders, and you bury your nose down into the fabric, trying to fill your senses with him as an attempt to keep yourself calm.

The numb feeling that had gripped ahold of you hadn’t yet dissipated, sticking around long after the tears had dried up, eyes burning and head throbbing with pain. Detective ‘So-and so’ Min had done his best to take your statement, frowning and sighing through your harrowed silence and broken sentences, finally conceding when Hoseok had quickly dismissed the questions for the rest of the day.

Jimin had been pulled from you shortly after arriving at the station, promising to come back to you within a couple of minutes but disappearing for close to an hour. You could only console yourself with the knowledge it wasn’t by choice, only imagining the pile of questions and paperwork that had awaited him, regardless of how badly you ached to be back in his arms.

Hoseok had come in to check on you periodically, but even he had left you to the silence, instead retreating to his own office with the reminder he was only next door if you needed anything. You appreciate the sentiment.

Your eyes had begun to grow heavy quickly, drooping and fluttering before a noise in the hall outside would have you jumping back into place with your heart beating out of your chest and your skin crawling. Each time forcing yourself to calm down with whispered words, closing your eyes and reminding yourself that you were safe, and Jungkook couldn’t get near you anymore. But after last night, nowhere felt secure enough to calm your raging anxiety.

Footsteps outside the door merge with a shadow, breaking through the blinds and flowing over you before they stop behind the wood and the handle gently turns. You no longer have the energy to greet Hoseok each time he comes in, so you stay in place on Jimin’s office chair, almost huddling yourself deeper into his blazer.

“Hey.” Jimin’s voice immediately breaks through your exhaustion, and your head whips to the side as you quickly stand to meet him, blazer falling to the floor without a second glance. His arms wrap around your shoulders, and your face buries into the warmth of his chest, inhaling his scent deeply as you shiver against him. Instantly, his palm is stroking the back of your head, squeezing you tight enough to make you feel like you’re whole again, and you finally start to feel more at ease just being with him. “The doctors got back to us about Taehyung.”

“He’s okay?” You pick your chin up only far enough to see up into his eyes, and he gives you a tired smile, hand shifting around to cup your cheek, and you lean into the warmth.

“He’ll definitely be sore for a while, but he’s being well taken care of. There’s no serious damage done which is very lucky.” Your bottom lip quivers, the relief affecting you more than you thought it would; cracking through the emotionless shell that had started to harden on your face. Jimin pulls you close again, this time pressing his lips gently to your forehead before rocking you back and forth, and your eyes instinctively slip shut. “You already know he doesn’t blame you for what happened, sweetheart. He’s just happy you’re safe.”

“He could’ve died.” Your voice is little more than a croak, throat too dry and tender to speak comfortably at regular pitch, and you can feel Jimin shake his head slowly where his lips are still pressed against you.

“He’s not the only one.” He reminds you, finally relinquishing the embrace to lean down and sweep the blazer from the floor, shaking it out before slipping it back around your shoulders and rubbing firmly up and down your sides. You can see the muddy stain of dried blood on his neck, knowing just as well that your own body has similar stains in a few areas –some more intense than others– as well as a few aches and pains.

The arm which Jungkook had managed to injure was luckily all flesh wounding, the angle having merely skimmed past the muscle and luckily left no permanent muscular damage, and a small pit stop at the hospital, some high strength anti inflammatory painkillers, and a short sit had you stitched right up in no time. And even better was the mark on your back, barely a scratch that had felt like a scarring wound.

But the fatigue hasn't taken long to catch up to you, your body weary from stress and adrenaline, aches that only time will fix lingering in your bones, and now that he’s back with you, it makes it ten times harder to resist finally letting your eyes fall shut. And though Jimin wears a strong mask of composure for you, the tightness around his eyes and the slack of his shoulders tells you more than he could ever say.

“You’re okay too, right?” Pulling away, you look down at his stomach, mind flashing back to the sliver of red Jungkook had swiped across his stomach, and you automatically reach for the hem of his freshly-changed tshirt. He chuckles, shaking his head as he grabs your hand halfway, and you frown up at him.

“I’m fine, you don’t need to worry.” You continue to press on, waving off his attempts to convince you, but you quickly see he’s not just lying for your benefit when the toned muscles are revealed. “Heh–“

You can certainly see the mark, a thin, arching line that starts deeper to the left of his navel and the feathers off up under the right side of his ribcage. It’s still more than you would want, but you’re relieved to see no stitches or heavy bandaging, the sliver of damage no doubt going to disappear in a few days.

“See?” He teases, distending his tummy out and slouching to make his stomach more pronounced, only stopping when your lips lift and you poke at his bellybutton. Bright smile dropping, he pulls your hand till his shirt falls and holds you close again, looking down into your drooping eyes. “There’s that smile.”

For a few calm, peaceful moments, the two of you stand in the hush of his darkened office, ignoring the bustle of the work outside the door. Looking into his eyes, there’s so much sitting within them that you know he wants to say, and you don’t doubt he finds the same in yours. So much has happened in the last 12 hours that your outlook on life and the way you want to live it has changed entirely. Including who you want to live it with.

But before anything can be said, Jimin squeezes you tight around the middle and tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear before taking your hand in his and leading you away from his desk.

“Let’s go home.”

**********

A sense of relaxation, even as the bureau disappears into the horizon behind Jimin’s car, seems far off and unattainable as ever, the silence between the two of you covered with the layer of deafening noise within your own head. Jimin’s hand moves occasionally between the gearstick and your thigh, fingers warm and grounding as he does his best to soothe the war he can see raging behind your irises.

Your skin stays raised in goosebumps under the too-thick fabric of your jeans, the layers of clothes tightly trying to hold you together whilst only making your skin feel like it’s ready to rip apart. Exhaustion weighs heavy in your bones but your muscles haven’t seemed to lose their sense of adrenaline, and the way each different part of your body fights for your brain's attention makes you feel even more numb while you try to overcome the overload of sensation.

Every dark corner and unfamiliar noise on the way up to Jimin’s apartment has you flinching and holding onto his arm tighter and tighter, but he simply pulls you into his side and wraps his arm around you, pressing his lips to your temple as the elevator stops on his floor and he leads you down the hall.

The chime of the security system locking only serves to make you feel the slightest bit safer, and as much as it makes your head hurt to consider, you can’t help but remind yourself over and over that Jungkook is dead, and he can’t get near you anymore.

“You want some water? How is your head feeling?” You turn to look at Jimin as he gently pulls the jacket from your shoulders and slips it over the back of the nearest dining chair.

“I don’t think this headache is gonna go away with just aspirin.” You try to lift one side of your mouth into a smile but you lack the energy, and Jimin frowns at the emptiness behind your eyes. “My brains working way too hard trying to process this whole...this whole day. I don’t know what I’m meant to do, I just...I feel so numb, Jimin. I don’t know if I’ll ever feel like myself again.”

“No one expects anything from you right now, _____.” Jimin steps forward to rub at your arm, and you feel sick to find that this kind of careful, weary comfort does nothing but make your skin crawl. You crave more from Jimin, the kind of consolation you know only he can provide you, and though the hurt flashes deep in his eyes before he can hide it, you’re recoiling out of his reach and taking a deep, shaking breath. “And you don’t have to try and force yourself to process this. Take your time, reflect on the way you want to feel, and we can go from there.”

You stay looking into Jimin’s eyes, soaking yourself in the underlying strength he’s always been able to hold even on his most tired of days, and trying your best to take some of that on yourself. And after a few moments of silence, you step forward and wrap your arms around his middle, closing your eyes when he returns your embrace and squeezes you tightly.

He holds you there. Long enough that you start to feel the way he’s holding the million fragile pieces you’d become, together in one piece in the palms of his hands. Achy bodied, you eventually pull back just far enough to look up into his face, and he immediately presses a soft kiss on the crinkle between your brows “What can I do for you, sweetheart?”

“I’d…really like a shower.”

He nods, smiling gently, and seconds later he’s pulling you through to the bathroom and leaving you momentarily to fetch a change of clothes from his room for you. Though you’d rather avoid it, your eyes immediately run over your reflection in the mirror, and you find yourself leaning in close as though you can search for the answers to your hundred and one questions somewhere in your hallowed eyes. There’s a few smudges of blood still on your chin and neck that you hadn’t managed to clean up completely, and the water from the tap is freezing on your skin as you scrub it raw.

When you finally stand from where you’d bent over the sink, whipping at your dripping chin, you make eye contact with Jimin behind you in the mirror, and it takes the heavy look on his face and the breathlessness taking over your chest to realise you’d started to gasp for air, eyes growing teary and aching.

“Oh, baby.” He drops the clothes and towel on the bench beside you, pressing himself against your back and slipping his arms around you. One hand lifts to cup the side of your face, thumb meeting a stray tear halfway down your cheek and swiping it away. “Shh.”

“I can’t...I can’t go back, Jimin.” You sob roughly as he holds you even tighter, keeping his eyes locked on yours no matter how much you blink or shake. “Everything I own, he’s tainted. My home isn’t my home anymore. I don’t have anything, I don’t know what I’m gonna do…”

“Shhh, sweet, silly girl.” Pulling you until you face him again, Jimin cups both your cheeks. “I’m right here. What’s mine is yours, _____. Always has been, always will be. No matter what you need, you have it. Even my heart is yours, _____. That’s never changed even for a second.”

“I love you, Jimin.” It’s not at all the way you’d hoped to have told him, feeling so out of sorts it’s hard to recognize your own reflection as yourself, but if anything has shown you that time is too short to bite your tongue over the way you feel, it’s today.

Jimin inhales, not a gasp but a deep, steadying breath, and his thumbs indent the soft parts of your cheeks as his hands tighten their hold on your face. Your fingers tangle in the hem of his shirt as he leans down closer, and you almost shut your eyes on instinct before your lashes flutter open again.

“I love you. So much.” Stroking over your cheeks, his thumbs trail down to your jaw before he slips one hand behind your neck, the other dropping to hold you tight against him with a palm pressed to the small of your back. “My darling girl. I love you more than you can ever know.”

Jimin’s lips meet yours like two waves crashing together, colliding against each other before blending together as one, and as your eyes slip closed, and Jimin guides your head to deepen the kiss, you finally get that feeling of safety and comfort that you’d been waiting for.

There is no goal to be made in this embrace, no race to be won. Simply the two of you locked so tightly together as you both give your entire soul to make the other feel all the things you want to say but can’t find the words for. Jimin’s hand cupping the side of your neck sweeps back, shifting your hair behind you, and soon his arm is holding you tight as his palm finds the nape of your neck, and the hand on your lower back relaxes and comes forward to hold you at the hip.

The skin of Jimin’s stomach is balmy on your palms where your hands have slipped beneath his shirt, searching for his warmth as you start to shiver in his arms, and he pulls away from you to press heated lips down over the tear tracks on your cheek.

His lips find yours with a soft press one, two, three more times before he simply rests his forehead against yours and holds you close for a moment, nothing but the sound of your two heartbeats to fill the silence. “Shower?”

“Yes, please.” You concede his pulling away from you, trying not to feel too hollow when his warmth moves away from your chilled skin, watching as he flicks the shower taps on with practiced ease, adjusting it to the best temperature and holding his hand beneath the stream to test the heat. “Will...will you stay with me?”

There’s not even a second thought crossing your mind before you ask, the sheer desperation to keep Jimin close at all times for the foreseeable future, something you don’t dare to deny yourself for the fear you may fall apart without him.

“Of course I will.” When you glance back up, Jimin is already looking at you over his shoulder, shaking the water off his hand before turning to close the bathroom door most of the way shut. Your hands reach for his shirt as he returns to you, and he doesn’t question you for a moment, simply lifting his arms above his head and letting you slip the fabric from him and drop it to the floor. He finds the buckle of his pants on his own, belt clanking on the floor with his shirt before he kicks the slacks to the side and soon he’s completely bare in front of you, both body and soul, and before you can think he’s reaching out to help you.

Kneeling on one knee, Jimin quickly and gently plucks open the button of your jeans before shuffling the too-tight fabric down your legs. He soothes the goose-pimpled chill that follows with a caressing hand as you lift each foot out of the jeans one at a time, instinctively using his shoulders to stabilise yourself and letting your eyes slip closed as he presses the softest of kisses along your inner left thigh, his hand cupping your calf as you find your balance again.

Your shirt and bra are handled in the same manner, Jimin’s tentative touches and soothing warmth seeming to cover every place you need it to, and when you’re down to just panties you take that step yourself, hooking your thumbs under the band and letting them drop to the floor before Jimin grasps your hand and pulls you into the steam-filled shower.

The water is almost too hot, the steam fogging up the glass walls and blocking out the outside world, and you finally allow yourself to relax into Jimin’s arms fully, the warm water streaming over the back of your hair and down your spine as your bare flesh presses to his completely. It's been so long since you’ve felt comfort to this extent, and you can help but hum into the base of his throat as his fingers run down the length of your spine to tickle circles into the small of your back.

Your arms are wound loose around Jimin’s hips, as you allow him to simply guide you himself, twisting the two of you side to side under the stream of water, avoiding your bandaged arm regardless of the waterproofed dressing. One arm releases you to reach somewhere behind you, and the sound of a bottle cracking open echoes against the tiles moments before you feel him rub his hands together.

Reaching up to pull your hair away up from your back, you look up as Jimin presses his lips to your forehead, hands finding the base of your spine and massaging the tense muscles lining your back to up and around the base of your neck. The water streams down between your bodies from the side where he’s turned you, slicking up the press and slide of him moving against you, and your eyes slip shut again as you simply enjoy the feeling as he washes the rest of your body.

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you the way I should’ve been.” Your eyes snap open as you feel his fingers trace the outside of the bandage on your arm, and you can see the complete devastation in Jimin's face without even needing him to meet your eyes.

“Jimin.” You let go of your hair, trading it to hold his face until he finally returns your gaze, and you can’t help but press a kiss to his lower lip, unable to resist now that you’ve been given the chance again. “Jimin, I’m alive because of you.”

“You’re in this position because of me.” He pulls away from you, using his hold on your hips to push you back under the water until you’re forced to let go of him. He guides your head back under the stream further until every inch of your hair is drenched and then pushes you to turn until your back is to him. “Because of the way I acted. If I had been better, if I’d done the right thing and treated people the right way back then...none of this would have happened.”

“Stop.” You reach back to grab his arm, pulling it around you and urging him to hold you tight. “I dont...I can’t talk about things like this, please.”

Jimin spins you once more in his arms, eyes still sad but a twist to his mouth that tells you he’s doing his best to do as you ask, and you hold his gaze until you no longer can, hair rinsing out under the water.

He washes you from top to toe, cleaning every inch of you until you start to feel a little more human, a little more put together, and when he guides you to step from the shower it's straight into his arms and the fluffiest towel he owns before you can blink.

Nothing much else is uttered from there, only words unspoken that linger in his eyes as he dresses you and himself before tucking you into bed. And you simply lose yourself in those moments between consciousness and sleep, finding the only comfort you need in his arms and between his lips and yours.

**********

You’re torn from sleep by your own scream, mind unable to remember or comprehend the nightmare that had taken over you. Heart beating out of your chest, your eyes fly around the room before landing on Jimin’s worried face above you, and for a few seconds you simply stare at him as the ringing in your ears starts to subside and give way to the gentle murmuring of his voice as he does his best to reassure you.

“S-Sorry.” You sit up into his embrace with his help, sweeping the hair back away from your face and taking a shaky breath. Jimin stay’s close, pushing your hair behind your ear and blocking the outside world out as you slowly regain your composure.

“Don’t be.” He whispers into your cheek, nuzzling his nose against you and pulling you close as you both close your eyes and simply breath. You can hear the faint sound of the city below outside his bedroom window, but there is not yet any sunlight to break the darkness. “I’m here. Everything’s okay.”

You can’t explain the way you feel even to yourself, skin feeling too tight over your muscles and the sour sense of discomfort that has seemed to linger no matter the efforts of Jimin’s consolation. And nothing is truly as draining as the feeling of inescapable numbness that lines your consciousness, and you know it’s your brain struggling to process everything that’s happened and trying to give you something you can truly feel.

But all you can stand to feel is Jimin.

It takes a mere second to lift your head and press your lips to his, feeling his own part instantly in acceptance of your embrace while his hands press to your shoulder blades to help hold you where you’ve lifted yourself to wrap an arm around his neck. Yearning for more of his essence has you lifting yourself up onto your knees and crawling into the triangle of space between his own, and he cradles your waist as you move towards him.

Jimin’s hands tighten at your hips with the desperation building in the ardent presses of your lips and for a second you feel him start to pull back before his questioning hum is immediately silenced by your tongue trailing along his lower lip. All at once he withdraws from you, firm in his ignorance of your pleading whine as he pushes you back just far enough to stop your advances and fix you with a weary, confused expression.

“Are you alright, sweetheart?” Jimin pays no mind to the way you reach for him, holding you solidly in place as he studies your features carefully. “I’m not sure what’s going on here, I need to know you’re okay.”

“M’fine, J’min, please…” Your hands reach for him again and he lets you get close enough to touch, eyes still piercing as his brows pinch together in concern. “Just, I just wanna feel… something good. I–”

“Baby, I wanna take care of you.” He reassures you easily, finally letting you get close again without losing your eyes. “I want nothing more than to make you feel good in every way I possibly can. But I need to know that we’re doing things the right way for what's best for you right now.”

You gaze up at him quietly, fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck as he plays with the ends of your own. His brown eyes look black in the darkness of the night that paints his room, but there’s an uncompromising warmth that no amount of light or darkness has ever been able to hinder.

“Please.” Frustration starts to bubble in the pit of your stomach. The one thing you want right now so close yet so far in this moment that it has tears starting to prickle your tired eyes. Embarrassment whirls in the forefront of your mind but you’re too tired to care and, as a lonely tear manages to escape you, Jimin quickly surges forward and pulls you tight against him. Lips cover your cheeks in tiny kisses, and he hushes you gently as a whine is pulled out of your throat once more, only to be cut off but Jimin’s lips.

This kiss is different from the last. Heat now underlines the ardent press of his lips and he holds you close like he fears you may disappear into thin air should he release you. This time when you lift higher above him on your knees and slip a leg over his, his other hand follows to pull you more easily onto his lap, and his legs spread out beneath you as he slowly reclines back onto the bed.

You shuffle up, straddling his hips properly, and Jimin pushes your hair to one side when he reaches up to grasp your chin and pull you back down to his lips. You feel jumpy, almost like adrenaline, desperation in the way your hands press and grip at the hard curves of his shoulders and biceps, flexing when he’s got a handful of your thigh and is pulling you ever closer. His tongue meets yours with a tentative flick, teasing as you deepen the kiss and he sucks your lip between his teeth with a hum of pleasure.

His thighs twitch upwards when your hips start to roll slowly, without you even noticing, and the squeeze of flesh over your hip between his fingers has you jerking to a stop before pressing down again even harder, feeling the way his length starts to respond quickly under your ministrations as he groans into your mouth.

Breathlessness pulls you away from him as your face starts to flush, starting to become overwhelmed by sensation as he caresses every inch of your body with his touch. But he doesn’t give you a moment of pause before moving his kisses down your neck, and a firm hand eases your head to one side to expose the most sensitive spot that he’s never forgotten about.

The spot that made your breath hitch under a gasp, and your hips undulate just that little bit faster. That one spot that, combined with the hand that has now crept up to tease the stiffening peak of your nipple through the fabric of your nightshirt, has the crotch of your shorts starting to stick between the apex of your thighs.

Jimin is unhurried when he reaches up, pulling the end of your shirt up and over your head to expose your torso, and as he thumbs at the waistband of your shorts, he presses his face into the swell of your breasts to take a deep inhale of your scent before pushing against you to lay you back on the bed. You cradle him to your chest, moaning as his hands slip underneath your shorts to take two handfuls of your ass and encourage you to lift up just enough to quickly pull the fabric from your legs.

It’s instinct, the way your hands immediately reach for Jimin’s own waistband to even the scores but you’re interrupted by your own gasp as he pushes you down with a hand on your chest, the second slipping between your thighs to leave you scrunching his waistband between your fingers. His heated stare keeps your gaze locked with his as he runs his fingers through your folds, gathering the wetness on his fingertips slowly as you gasp against his lips.

His mouth pouts against yours gently, eyes never breaking focus, and the corner of his lips perks up when you swallow a moan at the sparks of pleasure starting to ignite as he strokes slowly over your clitoral hood. Fabric crackling under your hands, you try and pull his hips closer to yours, but your efforts prove futile when he easily pulls further away to kiss down over your breasts. The sky outside is starting to lighten in the early morning sunrise, warm light only just starting to peak over the horizon, and it means that when Jimin finally pulls back to look down at your body properly, you can’t help but instinctively turn your head to the side shyly knowing he can see every inch of you like this.

“So beautiful.” Reverent hands glide down over your breasts and waist to squeeze the extra flesh at your hips, and though you’re embarrassed to know you’re not the skinny young woman Jimin once knew, the heat in his eyes when you meet them has your skin tingling with excitement. His hands push back up to cup and roll your breasts until the peaks of your nipples are tight against his palms, and this time when he leans down, it’s to envelope one into his warm mouth and roll it under his tongue.

Your back arches up into his ministrations, and you gasp into the empty air far too loudly for this time of morning, teeth clamping down on your lower lip as Jimin hums tingles of delight into your skin until you’re thoroughly covered in goosebumps. He then switches to your other nipple to repeat the sensations until you’re writhing uncontrollably, and when you finally break and jerk against him to reach down and wrap your hand around his hardened length through his shorts, he pulls back with a hiss and reaches back down between your thighs instead.

You moan as he slips further down the bed on his stomach, far enough down to lay his head on your thigh, and you blush heavily as his eyes land on your core, shining with desire and clenching down in despair as your craving peaks. A gentle thumb presses on your flesh, easing back the hood of your clitoris and before you can mumble a complaint about his staring, his mouth is enveloping the sensitive nerve in warmth as his tongue grazes against it roughly.

His hand moves down to tease his thumb around your slit, gauging just how wet you are before his tongue swipes down over your folds to leave you even wetter, making the gentle prodding of his finger a little easier as he starts to drag it harder and harder over your entrance until the flesh starts to part for him on it’s own.

“Hnng-ah!” There is nothing gentle about the way your hands grab and pull at Jimin’s hair, unable to control yourself as the pleasure blooms between your hips way more intense than you expected, but he quickly eases up at your overwhelmed whine, using just the tip of his tongue to gently flick and stroke over the pulsing nub. “D-Don’t–”

Jimin pulls back instantly, hand moving to carefully caress your outer thigh as he eases your legs back together under his chin. Concern is clear in his eyes and you bite your lips, feeling silly to have lost yourself so fast and worried him. “You okay? You wanna stop, sweetheart?”

“N-no! I-I’m sensitive. I just–” Heavy blush is warming your cheeks and Jimin smiles up at you softly as he presses a kiss to your knee. “I-I havent...nobodies...not since you.”

A sweet smile breaks across Jimin’s lips at at the darling way you shyly whisper the words, and he reaches down under you to wrap strong arms around your waist and pull you back up to sit in his lap, hips pressing firm against each other as he uses the freedom of his hands to run soothing fingertips up and down your back.

Your arms wrap around his shoulders as he pulls you close, and you can't help but return his smile as he leans in and puckers soft lips against the crease of your elbow.

“Me too.” You blink down at him in surprise, but he simply grins up at you before easing the flyaway hair at the back of your head down with gentle fingers. “It’s always been you, _____. I don’t think I could bring myself to even think about someone else.”

“I love you, Jimin.” Your arms and legs wrap tight around him, and he squeezes you tight to his chest with a happy hum.

“I love you.” His reply is muffled by the way your lips crash against his, and this time when you reach down to tug at his shorts, he lets you. Leaning back to brace himself on one arm, he lifts his hips until you can both shimmy the fabric off and under the sheets somewhere, and when you finally wrap your hand around him, and he groans deep in your mouth, the heat fully envelopes your mind and every sensation is full of Jimin like you’ve craved for so long.

His abdomen tenses as he thrusts up into your hold instinctively, and his hand loops around your wrist to tug your grip away from his sensitive member as he pulls you up over his hips and scooches up the bed until his back meets the headboard, staring up into your eyes. He breaks your gaze only to reach over into the bedside table, the small bottle he procures leaving a smile on your face as he uncaps the lubricant and squeezes some into his palm.

The gel is warm by the time he spreads it over his fingers and brings it between your thighs, and you lift yourself up just enough, bracing yourself with arms wrapped around his neck as your hips twitch at the gentle touch. Liberally, he spreads it over your folds, running his fingers through and down to your entrance with a tilted smile, and his grin only grows when your hips jerk unintentionally.

Barely a minute can pass before the slight touches become almost unbearable, and you’re reaching down behind yourself to grasp him at the base. But he catches your arm behind you quickly, hand leaving your core to run whatever is left on his fingers down his shaft until his hand meets yours. And together, with the slightest tilt of your hips, the two of you ease him between your walls.

You don't even notice that you're holding your breath, the tension in your body fully encompassed by the way you gradually relax down onto him, and for a few long moments, all either of you can do is revel in the feeling of being connected again. And even though the moment has only just begun, it already feels like coming home, body opening up for him as though he’d never left.

Jimin’s eyes flutter as his head hits the wood behind him with a dull sound, and your eyes zone in on the muscle in his jaw that clenches the lower you slide onto him. His hand wrapped around your wrist behind you gives a squeeze, and as your hips nestle deep into his, his free hand lifts to grip your face as his hips give an unintentional roll, and it's like a punch to the stomach as air finally rushes down into your lungs when you gasp, thighs immediately clamping down around him.

“O-oh!” You’re barely strong enough to hold yourself upright, the intensity of finally being this close to Jimin again is staggering, and you can’t control yourself as your hips jerk down into his, leaving the two of you gasping at the surge of unprecedented pleasure.

“Shit.” Jimin’s fingers squeeze a little harder as he groans, and your fingernails dig in on his shoulder as you watch heat swirl in his eyes, any sense of composure he normally holds completely lost. He pulls you closer by the chin, the heat of his breath now brushing over your lips, and the arm behind you pulls you even further against him as your walls give a shuddering squeeze as they clench around him rhythmically. He can feel the way your breath hitches against his face, and the slow dance starts as the two of you groan and pant, hips rolling slowly into desperation against each other.

Blood is starting to rush through your ears as your movements become more depraved, and the way he pushes against all the right spots inside you leaves your memories a mere shadow in the distance. Nothing you’ve ever felt compares to this moment in his arms, and the shock to your body has you hurtling into the abyss as you lose all semblance of self, feeling as though you're dissolving into him.

Sweat coats the skin between you, hips gliding in slick movements as you writhe against him, and the moans vibrating through him hum right into your core, and you find yourself echoing him. He spears deep into you, another tilt of his hips and yours grazing the tip of his length deep into the front of your core, leaving you crying out as you finally fall against him, and with a sharp tug your lips are pressing to his and he’s drinking in the sounds that escape you like an elixir.

“H-nghh-ah!” Your eyes clench shut as you grasp for his hand behind you, fingers squeezing between his as he continues to roll his hips under you. And it’s with an impressive example of his restraint that he manages to slow them to an almost stop and pulls away from your lips to let you breath, throat burning around a shuddered breath that almost kicks into a sob with the moisture budding behind your lids.

“Baby.” Jimin eases you carefully back to the surface, and it takes you a few seconds to realise just how hard your panting against his neck, arms both around his neck as he strokes a gentle hand up your back and over the nape of your neck. “Baby, talk to me.”

“J’min.” Shock takes over as your voice wavers, and you swallow thickly as he eases you back from his neck to look into your eyes. Your core is still pulsing around him, but you’re grateful for the reprieve as the two of you start to calm down, needing just a moment to really soak it all in before you can revel in him too much.

“Breath for me.” You do as he says, taking a deep breath as he runs a gentle thumb under your eyes, and for a few seconds all you do is return his gaze as he runs his hands over your body. “Doing so well for me. So beautiful. Love you so much.”

The words are so quiet you could almost think he hadn’t meant to say them out loud, but the warmth in his eyes and the tilt of his lips say otherwise, and you give him a shy smile in reply, cheeks starting to heat. “I love you.”

Jimin pulls you down to his lips once more, and you meet him eagerly as the need in your centre returns with a vengeance. The hitch of a moan you feed into his lips is echoed by the pulse of his member deep inside you, and you lift yourself up just enough to feel the friction of his against your walls, smiling shakily as a hiss leaves his lips at your ministrations. The pleasure starts to take over the forefront of your mind again, and as your movements grow bigger and more eager, so does the knot starting to tighten between your hips.

“F-Feels s-so–” You sob, teeth finding your lower lip as you jerkily roll your hips into Jimins, and at his deep growl of pleasure your clit gives a heavy throb, and you fall back to brace yourself with hands on his thigh as you lift yourself with a debauched level of eagerness. Jimin’s hand drop to find your hips, fingertips deep in your flesh as he holds you tight and throws his head back in ecstasy. The way you can see his eyes roll back before he closes them tight, nostrils flaring as he clenches his jaw, leaves you throbbing, and had you been of sound mind, the lewd sounds of your hips pushing and rolling against each other might’ve made you blush.

“S-So good, I–” But you’re in far too deep now, a hiccuped sob leaving you every time your hips drop into his, and Jimin is hardly faring any better as he grunts and moans, the veins in his neck popping as he swallows thickly, and your eyes catch on his tongue as it runs over his lower lip. Chin dropping forward, his eyes pierce straight into you when they finally open, and you almost jerk to a stop as the sight has your core clenching tight with a shocking pulse of lust.

“H-ah! I’m–!” Shuddering over him, you try to get back into a rhythm that resembles controlled, but fail miserably as Jimin leans up and forward to brace an arm behind himself as the other winds around your waist. You follow his lead, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, but you fumble as he gives a strong tug and leaves you gasping as his length pierces straight into you, deeper than before. And he is unwavering.

“Come on, baby.” Deep slaps of your hips against his echo around the room, almost drowned out by your cries as your entire body tenses with shock, and you can feel more than hear his groan as he leans in to suck your lower lip between his teeth, teasing you into a messy, breathless kiss that you can barely hold for half a second. You’re weak against him, entire body thrumming with a pleasure that is so wholly encompassing that it catches you off guard, and all you can do is take it as he pushes himself back until he’s laying back against the pillows. You’re too far gone to notice the hand he lifts to his lips until it’s too late, fingers wet with saliva when they slip down against your clit, and you choke on your own breath. “Come for me, sweetheart.”

Your climax hits you like a freight train, not a sound or breath escaping you as you rip Jimin’s hand from between your thighs and fall down weakly against his chest. You can’t hear a single thing around the blood rushing through your head as you pull up and off Jimin’s length in instant oversensitivity, and he automatically catches you in his arms as he shushes your now heaving sobs.

“Good girl, baby. You did so good for me, sweet girl. God, you’re so beautiful cumming for me like that. Missed you so much–” Jimin brings you down, gentle kisses lining your cheek as he holds you close and whispers into your ear, and as you start to breath again, and your mind starts to slowly clear, you can feel the way your release eases down your folds and no doubt pools over his length.

“J’min.” You slowly pull back with a weak arm trying to brace you against the bed beside his head, and his eyes glint as he grins up at you, holding you carefully. He hushes you again, thumbing at your chin now as he pulls you in, and the kiss is tender against your swollen lips as he strokes his other hand down to your lower back.

You kiss languidly for a few minutes, the strength slowly returning to your limbs as you regain some energy, and ever so gradually, the kiss starts to grow more eager. And with the sheer burning heat of him right underneath you, it’s not hard to expect the way your body starts to desire the feel of him again.

He hisses as your hips undulate back down against him, the sensitive tip of his length grazing and parting through your folds and leaving you to moan against his lips as he twitches and grunts beneath you. The hand at your hip squeezes you tight, shifting to take a handful of your ass as he pulls you against him again before pulling away from your lips and fixing you with his heavy stare.

“Only if you’re sure baby.” You look at him for a moment, smile small but growing quickly as his thumb runs over your lower lip, and you quickly move in again to fix his lips against yours, and wordlessly you reach down to lift his length until it aligns with your core, grinning as he jerks and squeezes you in his hold.

Your jaw instantly drops, a heavy breath escaping the both of you as he parts your folds once more, and this time the slide is a little slower, a little more intense for you as he parts your walls and nestles deep inside, but it doesn't take long for you to start to rock back and forth over him, and Jimin hides his face in your neck as a high pitched sound of pleasure escapes him. Hips rolling, you close your eyes and focus on the sounds he makes as you pleasure him, engraving them in your mind and shuddering as they lift the hairs on the back of your neck.

Pulling back in an effort to ground yourself from becoming too lost in him too fast, you sit up slowly and start to properly move, pushing down on him right to the hilt before pulling away until his tip barely kisses the insides of your folds. The sunlight has peaked over the horizon in the distance, filling the room with a lavender glow that quickly intensifies as you ride him with increasing desperation, and soon his hands join your efforts and pull you against him as he gazes up at you heatedly. His lips are parted on his breath, and you bite down on your own as the sight of his eyes starting to roll again has your clit throbbing.

“Baby.” Jimin’s head flies back as you grind down on him hard, the delicious expanse of his neck now exposed to you as he cries out, and just by the sound of his breath hitching around his little gasps of pleasure and the way his hands are shaking, you can tell he’s starting to get close to his release. And so you double your efforts, slamming down against him hard enough to make you yourself cry out, eyes clenched shut as he brushes against the deepest spots. “F-Fuck!”

“Hmh-ah!” Your breath is punched out of you as you’re twisted to the side, your back hitting the bed unexpectedly, and your eyes shoot open to see Jimin now above you, length gripped in his hand as he squeezes the tip hard in a desperate attempt not to cum, while he growls as he pushes your legs apart and falls over you to claim your mouth once more.

His breath is scalding as it washes over your lips, his heaving gasps for air a reflection of the way the sight of him has you breathless, and while your lips stay pressed together he pushes his hips forward to connect the two of you once more. Your arms find their way around his neck as he lifts a hand to cup your jaw, and with the first drive of his hips your body is thrust upward closer to the pillows.

Elbows dent the bed on either side of your waist, and Jimin's hands slip under you to cup the back of your shoulders and hold you in place. A gasp escapes you at the way his length delves deeper still as his thrusts hasten, and he pushes his thighs further apart as he solidifies his position over you, leaving your own unable to resist as you’re spread wider and your hips tilt upwards automatically.

This minute change in position has your core completely victim to Jimin’s will. And with every drop of his hips into yours, your body vibrates with electricity as the angle drives him right over your most sensitive spots and deep within where even the slightest twinges of pain are left to ignite the burn of impending doom even brighter. You can merely hang on and try to breath as ecstasy mounts.

A heavy clench of your walls has Jimin’s hips faltering for just a second before he resumes with a deep growl that he muffles into your neck, and you hold onto him desperately as he shifts a hand to clasp the back of your neck instead, shifting his weight to his elbow and using the now free hand to curl your thigh even higher on his hip.

The heat between the two of you is stifling, the slickness of sweat coating your bodies as the push and pull intensifies, and as your lashes flutter and the feeling between your hips starts to mount, you pull him back by the hair at the nape of his neck and fix his heavy gaze with yours.

“J’min, please-ah!” He cries out as you feel him swell and throb at your centre, and his hips grind heavy against yours. The press of him catches your clit and you whimper in oversensitivity as you squeeze him tight and you feel your core clench repeatedly as the tsunami drowns you, his breath hitching and lashes fluttering as his hips stutter and then finally stop.

Warm wetness leaks out and down from where you’re connected, but you pay no mind to the way it pools on the sheets under you as you cup his cheeks and lose yourself in the kiss he pulls you into. You drink him in like nectar, returning his embrace fervently as his tongue teases at the tip of yours, and he leans his weight off to one side to twist his fingers through the hair behind your ear.

By the time he pulls away from you light has broken through the buildings and runs vertical lines through the blinds to decorate the walls and the side of his face, and you can’t help but to run fingers over them in reverence as he smiles gently down at you. A few more kisses find their way to your lips before Jimin manages to pull himself away, and regardless of the warmth of the sun's rays filling the room, you instantly feel cold without him.

But he doesn’t go far lifting himself just enough to wrap you in the sheet that’s found its way to the end of the mattress before lifting you smoothly into his arms and standing from the bed. You find yourself smiling as you wrap your arms around his neck and lean in to press your face to his warm skin, breathing in the scent of him that resounds so strongly as home even before.

Gentle kisses rain over your exposed skin as he walks to the bathroom, and your feet barely touch the cool tiles before the patter of water fills the room and you're deafened to the world as Jimin pulls your lips to his with a hand under your chin.

And you know that regardless of the trials that no doubt will still litter your near future, having Jimin by your side once more makes any hardship that little bit easier, makes you that little bit stronger.

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