#idk how this turned into 6k+ words but i hope you all enjoy it lmao x

[drabbles-mc]

Flight Risk

Bishop Losa x F!Reader

Whumptober 2022: No.25 Alt Prompt- Touch Starved, and Request by @booksandlatenights​: I think it was 35... "Can you tell me a secret " with Obispo.  I just love him ❤ 😍 💕.....can it be smutty 😉

Warnings: 18+, language, angst, alcohol, smut

Word Count: 6k (idk what happened don’t look at me)

A/N: I got so wrapped up in this. I swear something took over my whole brain and when I snapped out of it this fic was written. I...I got nothin’. Hope you enjoy because idk when I’ll ever write smut like this again lmao

Bishop Losa Taglist: @masterlistforimagines @sincerelyasomebody @thesandbeneathmytoes @withmyteeth @kelpies-shed @queenbeered @gemini0410 @louisianalady @paintballkid711 @chibsytelford​ @yourwonkywriter @sesamepancakes @arveeee @buckybarneshairpullingkink​ @plentyoffandoms​ @garbinge​ @bucky-iss-bae​ @bport76​ @rosieposie0624 @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo​ @mijop​ @blessedboo​ @holl2712​ @i-love-scott-mccall​ @beardsanddetectives​ @shadow-of-wonder​ @crowfootwrites​ @redpoodlern​ @punkgoddess-98​ @black-repunzel99​ @lexondeck​ @just1bri​ @fanfic-n-tabulous​ @anditsmywholeheart​ @amorestevens​ @mijagif​ @frattsparty​ @winchestershiresauce​ @bellisperennis0​ @beardburnsupersoldiers​ @mveggieburger​ @thanossexual​ @choochoo284​ @passionatewrites​ (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

You had a habit of tearing through people’s lives like a hurricane. You came crashing in, turning it all upside down, and then leaving a warpath behind you on your way out. That was exactly what had happened when you landed yourself in Santo Padre over a year ago. You’d been there for a couple of months before you were off and running again, not really planning on coming back. You figured that it was just going to be another red pin on the map, another place you got to say that you’d been to. There wasn’t anything overly remarkable about the little town to pull you back in so many months later. Nothing except the people in it.

Which was how you found yourself pulling into Bishop’s driveway in the middle of the night. You didn’t even know if you were going to be able to find it—it’d been so long since you had been there and it’s not like you had written down the address for safekeeping. But even from the other end of the block you could see his bike in the driveway, the light above the door glinting off the side of it.

You cut the engine and hopped out, walking up to his front door with more confidence than most would have after dropping off the radar for as long as you had. You hadn’t even given a real goodbye—one day you just stopped showing up. Bishop was too proud to reach out and ask where you’d gone, or why you left. You figured that you’d fade from his memory the same way so many people had faded from yours.

After knocking on the door, you waited and listened, straining your ear in an attempt to be a step or two ahead of him. Your hand rested on the hilt of the knife at your waist, prepared for the worst. It wasn’t like you could call him to warn him ahead of time that you were showing up—you went through burner phones faster than almost anyone.

Then you heard it, the scuffling of feet on the other side. Your fingers wrapped tighter around your knife when you heard the clicking of the locks being undone on the other side of the door. You held your breath, feeling like it was going to take him until morning to pull the door open.

His face went from anger, to surprise, to confusion as he looked at you through the small sliver he’d created as he pulled the door open. He didn’t open it all the way, making no move to step out onto the step with you, or to invite you inside with him. You only saw one hand, and you had the feeling that the other was pressed against his side of the door with a gun clutched in it.

One of you had to be the one to break the silence, and since you were the one turning up on his doorstep, it was only fair that it was you. “Hey,” you offered up, not sure how else to start the conversation.

He looked around behind you, making sure that it was really just you. “Hey.”

“I know it’s late.”

He scoffed. “About a year or so, actually.”

“Has it been that long?” The question was genuine—you’d never been good at keeping track of time.

“About that, yea.”

You shrugged. “Oh.”

“Oh?”

You chuckled, cocking one eyebrow. “What? You want some profuse apologies? Drop to my knees and tell you how much—”

“What are you here for?”

You paused for a moment before answering. It was only in that moment that you could hear the edge in his voice. It was brought on by more than just you suddenly popping back up into his life. You finally saw how different he really looked, too. More than just his beard that had grown out quite a bit since you last saw him. It also had more grey in it than you remembered. His hair was a little longer, a lot messier. More than anything, though, you could see it in his eyes that he was in a different place than when you’d took off all that time ago.

You shrugged again. “I was in town. Figured why not stop by?” He didn’t say anything in response to that—you could tell that he was still sizing you up. You sighed. “Listen, if you’re not going to let me in, tell me now. I’ll go find a fucking motel.”

He thought on that for a moment before finally opening the door a little wider. He wouldn’t say it even if he knew how to, but he had missed you. Not in a constant, debilitating, aching way. But you crossed his mind more than he thought you would and each time it happened it always stopped him in his tracks for a few minutes as he wondered where you were, why you took off, and why you never bothered to reach out to him.

Stepping inside, you looked around. Clearly his facial hair wasn’t the only thing that he’d let go since the last time you saw him. The number of beer cans and liquor bottles around the house would be more or less concerning if you knew how long it took to accumulate them all.

“Love what you’ve done with the place,” you said with a small chuckle. You turned around to see him latching the locks on his door. There were more of those there than last time too. Apparently a lot had gone down in the relatively short time you’d been away. “Those are new.”

He scoffed, tucking his gun into the back of his waistband as he walked over to you. You hoped that he had put the jeans on when you knocked and hadn’t also turned into a Jeans Sleeper since the last time you saw him. “Lotta shit’s different now.”

“Mm,” you hummed as you nodded. “I see that.” Reaching forward, you went to trail your fingers through his beard. You raised your eyebrows but didn’t comment directly when he jerked away from your touch. “Beard’s different, too.”

His eyes really raked over you then, slowly and intentionally. Like you calling him out for what had changed with him reminded him to look at what had really changed with you. He’d been so focused on the familiar look in your eyes that he’d missed the rest of it. You had a habit of reinventing yourself in one way or another as you hopped from one town to the next. Your hair was different now, most of your wardrobe had been lost or swapped out along the way except for the one pair of jeans that you would rather patch and sew up five million times than let them go. You had more rings on than you used to. It would take most people a second glance to recognize you, but not Bishop.

“How’d you end up back here?” he asked as he slowly walked past you and went towards the kitchen.

You chuckled. “Would you believe me if I just said that I missed you?”

“No,” his voice was devoid of any amusement.

You sighed, shaking your head. “C’mon, Bish, don’t be like that.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know,” you shrugged, “Bitter?”

“You took off.”

“Yea? And?”

He huffed as he pulled a can of beer out of the fridge. “Didn’t think that maybe a fuckin’ goodbye was in order?”

You rolled your eyes as you walked into the kitchen after him. Waiting until he cracked it open, you snatched the beer from him before he could take a sip. Annoyance flashed across his face but he didn’t try to take it back. You took a long drink from it before saying, “I didn’t think it was really necessary,” you told him honestly, “didn’t think we were really that serious.”

“You were pretty much living here.”

“Yea,” you let out a dry laugh, “’cause I was pretty much homeless. Not unlike I am now.”

“So that’s why you’re back?”

You shrugged, not really wanting to get into it all. “Sure, yea, let’s go with that.”

He shook his head at you as he went and grabbed a second can of beer for himself out of the refrigerator. He made sure to stand a little farther away from you as he opened it and took a sip. He didn’t take his eyes off you the entire time, watching you intently as you lifted the can back to your lips. Despite whatever hurt and frustration he was harboring, you could still see that same familiar look in his eyes. It was the same look that had basically given you a free place to stay last time you landed yourself in Santo Padre.

Finishing off the can, you tossed it into the garbage by the counter. You waited a moment to see if Bishop had any other slick comments up his sleeve, or any more questions for you to try and evade. He stayed quiet, though. You crossed the kitchen and landed yourself closer to him. You didn’t miss the way that his grip tightened around the can in his hand—it almost got a laugh out of you.

“Can I be honest with you?” you asked.

He laughed, not just at the question but at the idea of you actually being straight with him for once. “You can try.”

That earned him a smile as you shook your head. Locking eyes with him again, you said, “You look like shit, Bish.”

He laughed, and it was pretty close to genuine. You wondered if he even remembered what that was like. He shook his head at you. “You…don’t.”

“I know,” you chuckled. You waited a moment. “You miss me?”

He frowned for a moment as his brows came together. The answer to the question felt obvious. He wondered if you really just wanted to hear him say it out loud. “Did you miss me?”

You sighed, reaching and toying with the belt loops of his jeans. “I killed the part of me that misses people a long time ago.”

“Ouch.” He chuckled as he shook his head, but you could tell that his heart wasn’t in it.

“Your turn.” You flipped the conversation back onto him. “You miss me?”

He ran his teeth along his lip before finally answering. “Yea.”

You smiled at that, maybe a little prouder than you should’ve been. You never made return trips anywhere, so anyone you ever shared a home or a bed with wasn’t anyone who you ever saw again. That was half the reason you never tried to think about whether or not they thought about you. That’s why you stopped thinking about them first. It was validating, though, to know that you were still in his head even after you were long past county lines.

“Don’t look so fuckin’ happy about it,” his voice was gruff as he said it, but you could hear the slight hint of humor.

“Sorry, sorry.” You laughed. “I just, I figured that you would’ve just moved right along, I guess. Scooped up some new girl to keep your bed warm.”

“You think that’s all it was?”

You shrugged. “I never assume that I mean anything extra to people.”

“I don’t usually bring home strays.”

“Yea, well,” you reached to toy with his beard again, and this time he didn’t pull away quite so fast, “out of the two of us, you’re the one who is looking like a stray these days.”

He shook his head. “Beard really isn’t doing it for you?”

“Would you shave it if I said that it wasn’t?”

He rolled his eyes as he set his beer can off to the side. “Do you ever just answer a question?”

You chuckled. “You know the answer to that.”

Neither of you said anything for a moment after that. You were focused on the way your fingers tangled easily into the length of his beard in a way that they hadn’t been able to before. Bishop’s focus was on the look in your eyes, and just how close your hand was getting to actually touching and caressing his skin. You hadn’t even really laid a hand on him yet and he already felt that familiar warmth starting to wash over him, that slight sense of jitters that he hadn’t known before you, and hadn’t felt since.

Bishop didn’t realize the change in his breathing, but you sure did. The rise and fall of his chest was impossible to miss, and you were willing to bet that if you pressed your palm against his chest that his heart would be working double-time. You heard the unsteadiness in the deep breaths he was letting out, like he was bracing for something but he didn’t really know what.

When you met his eyes again, they were practically blacked out. It was a look that you remembered fondly, but it wasn’t one that you expected to see on him again. You untangled your fingers from his beard, sliding your hand up so that you could cup the side of his face. The second the pads of your fingers caressed his cheek, he reached up and grabbed your wrist tight in his hand. You gasped quietly, not really sure what to expect next. Part of you was wondering if he was going to tell you to get the fuck out of his house.

You lifted your fingers from the side of his face, opening your hand as far as it could go in an act of surrender. “Want me to stop, Bish?” you hadn’t meant to whisper but you did.

He swallowed hard, thinking on his answer for a moment before he finally shook his head. “No.”

Your shoulders relaxed, your facial expression softening. It was starting to fall into place, the tension in his body and movements. You wondered when someone had last taken care of him, when the last time someone had really touched him was. If the way his tongue was dragging along his bottom lip was telling you anything, it was that it had been a long fucking time.

“You gotta let me go, then,” you kept your voice soft.

His grip loosened slightly, but he didn’t completely let go. You smiled as you rested your hand back against the side of his face, your palm cupping his cheek and your thumb grazing his cheekbone. It took a moment, but then he completely melted into it, leaning deeper into your palm as his shoulders began to relax. Your heart ached a little at the sight. His grip on your wrist tightened again, but not in the same way it had before. He wasn’t gripping to pull you away this time, he was tightening his hold to make sure you stayed.

You stepped in a little closer, your other hand slipping so that your fingers were curled over the waistband of his jeans, your nails grazing against the fabric of his underwear for a fraction of a second but it was still enough to make him tense up.

“Did you miss me, Bishop?” you asked again, just wanting to hear him say it again.

You weren’t disappointed, the breathlessness of his voice nearly making you melt into the floor. “Yes.”

“Yea?” you pressed, seeing how he was making a concentrated effort at this point to keep his eyes open, “What’d you miss?”

He tried to let out a sound to make him seem annoyed but he couldn’t manage it. “C’mon.”

“What?” You couldn’t wipe the smirk off your face as you leaned in closer to him. Your forehead wasn’t quite touching him, but it was close. You were close enough for him to feel the warmth of your breath against his skin as you said, “Tell me.”

He felt like his legs were about to give out from underneath him. He wanted to pull you closer, hold you tight enough that it felt like your body was melting into his. He wanted to feel the warmth of your palms on his skin, the dig of your nails into him as you clawed and held him tight. He wanted to feel the soft warmth of your lips on his.

He tilted his head, leaning in to try and press his lips to yours, but you were the one to pull away this time. You didn’t pull far, just enough to make sure that he didn’t get what he wanted. You felt the tension in his muscles, the way that he was on the brink of combustion. Maybe you were being a bit cruel, doing this to him after leaving him the way you did. It wasn’t going to stop you, though.

“Tell me, Obispo.” Your lips barely brushed against his as you spoke, enough of a tease to almost bring him to his knees. “Tell me what you missed.”

“Everything,” the word came out so desperately.

You smiled at that, pleased but not pleased enough. You knew that the Bishop you knew back then would’ve had you pinned against the counter or down to the mattress by now, not entertaining any of this. But he wasn’t that man anymore, and you were looking forward to using that to your advantage.

You slid your hand down his face, letting the pad of your thumb graze along his bottom lip. “My hands?” you asked softly, pulling at his lip ever so slightly.

He nodded, breaths coming out staggered. “Yes.”

You hummed in approval, leaning in and letting your lips graze against his cheek as you brought them right next to his ear. Your lips wrapped around his earlobe for the shortest second before you asked, “You miss this mouth?” You kissed his ear. “These lips?”

His hands landed on your hips, gripping tight enough to make you flinch for a moment. “Yes.”

Reaching down, you took one of his hands and brought it to your chest, reveling in the low groan he let out as you did, not caring that the barriers of your shirt and bra were still between. “You miss—”

You didn’t even get to finish the question as his fingers began to knead hungrily at the concealed skin, “Yes.”

You laughed softly as you pressed a light kiss to his neck, something just to keep him on his toes. Something that would throw him off just a little. A tiny reward for good behavior. The second your lips hit the sensitive skin there, he tilted his head so it rested against yours. You could’ve sworn that you could hear his heart thundering in his chest.

“Obispo?”

He sucked in a long, deep breath. “Yea?”

You took his other hand, slipping it past the waistband of your jeans. You guided his fingers down along the fabric of your underwear, enough contact for him to know how wet you were, not enough for him to really be able to touch you.

You tilted your head up so that your lips were brushing against his ear as you spoke, “You miss this pussy?”

“Fuck,” he breathed out shakily.

You felt the fight drain out of him. He moved his hand up from your chest to roughly grip your jaw. He went to pull you in for a bruising kiss as his other hand went to slip past the thin, lacey fabric of your panties, but he didn’t get to do any of that. Your fingers wrapped tightly around his wrist, your other hand planting itself firmly against his chest. He let out the closest thing to a whine you’d ever heard from him.

“Answer me.”

“Please—”

Despite the fact that you were whispering, your voice was firm. “Answer me and I’ll let you touch me.”

“Yes,” he forced out, and you could feel him wanting to fight against you.

“Yes, what?”

His breathing was labored for someone who hadn’t even done anything yes. “Yes,” he tried to sound less strung out than he was, “I missed this pussy.”

The sound that came out of you at that was inhuman. You leaned in, finally letting your lips collide with his as you bit roughly at his bottom lip. You relinquished your grip on his wrist as both your hands snaked behind his head and into his hair. He moaned into your mouth his hands moving desperately, one slipping past the lace between your legs and the other sliding down so it was wrapped lightly around your throat. He pushed your back against the refrigerator, the impact causing a few of the magnets to clatter to the floor but he didn’t care.

His fingers stroked along you just enough to get wet before sliding into you. You moaned at the contact, your grip on his  hair tightening as his fingers began to pump and curl inside of you. If he didn’t have you pinned so tight, you might’ve been the one melting to the floor.

He pulled his lips off of yours just long enough to say, “Feels like you missed me too.”

You smiled and you were about to laugh when he crashed his lips back into yours and robbed you of the chance. The second your teeth dragged along his bottom lip again, his grip on your throat tightened. He felt the way you clenched around him the harder he squeezed and it took what tiny speck of self-control he still had left to not rip your jeans off and fuck you right there in the kitchen.

But for all he knew this was the only night he was going to get with you for a long time. For all he knew it was the last night he was going to get. And he wasn’t going to waste it.

He let go of your throat, and you gasped as air flooded back into your lungs. Your eyes snapped open as you looked at him, trying to figure out what was coming next. You couldn’t even try to stop the whine you let out when he pulled his fingers out of you.

You were about to ask why, about to pout, but when your lips parted to ask, he slid his fingers into your mouth, making you taste yourself off of them. You moaned around his fingers and he couldn’t hide the hunger in his eyes.

Sliding his fingers out of your mouth, he kissed you hard as he regained his grip on your hips. He pulled you off the fridge, turning you and pushing you down the hallway. His lips didn’t leave yours except for him to say, “Come on.”

It felt like you still knew his house like the back of your hand as you blindly let him push you down the hall and into his bedroom. He kicked the door shut, and you expertly kicked off your shoes as he backed you towards the bed. It was hard not to get distracted by the way his hands moved to start working the button and zipper on your jeans, and it made it even harder to try and return the favor. You lost your focus completely as he reached for the hem of your shirt, pulling it off over your head. You saved him the effort and unclasped your bra, slipping it off and tossing it aside before bringing your hands back to his jeans.

He was faster than you, pushing your jeans and underwear down over the curve of your ass. You were about to mirror his actions when he pushed you back onto the mattress, your back hitting flat against it with your legs hanging off the edge. You were only half-propped up on your elbows when he pulled your bottoms off the rest of the way in one desperate motion, flinging them behind him with enough force that they smacked against the closed door, the knife still attached amplifying the sound more than necessary.

“Bish—”

You didn’t get anything else out as he closed the small bit of distance between you, pushing you farther up the bed by your hips. His hands ran up your calves and over your knees, fingertips touching every bit of you that he could now access. The pads of his fingers dug into your thighs as he pressed a kiss to the side of your calf. You whimpered at the feeling of his lips gliding along your skin, his tongue darting out ever so quickly as he made his way up your thighs to your hips.

You looked down at him as he traced his fingers along your folds. He looked up at you, and you could see his desperation battling it out with the fact that he knew he needed your permission. You smiled, knowing that you weren’t in much better shape than him at this point, but you still had the upper hand.

He beat you to the punch, answering the question before you even asked it. “I missed how good you taste too, querida.”

The smile on your face grew as your head dropped back against the mattress. He didn’t waste any time, diving into you like a man starved. He quickly moved your legs so that they were draped over his shoulders.  It took no time at all for him to make your legs start to shake, your thighs clenching around his head. Your fingers threaded their way into his hair again, pulling him against you as much as you could as he slid his fingers back into you.

“Fuck, Bishop,” you bucked your hips up against him, “I’m gonna cum.”

That was when he stilled completely. It nearly killed him, but he managed to stop. He pulled his lips off of you, took his fingers out of you, and soaked in the whine you let out as you lifted your head up to look at him. Even though you didn’t say it, he could see the question, “What the fuck?” written plain as day on your face.

He pulled his t-shirt off over his head, tossing his gun onto the nightstand and ridding himself of his jeans and underwear too before climbing onto the bed, situating himself over you and between your legs. You felt his cock pressed against you, the way that he couldn’t help but to grind against you for the slightest bit of relief. Trying to get payback was still torture for him, too.

Your hands started on his hips, trying to pull him closer and into you, but he held strong. You slid them around to his back and up to his shoulder blades, letting your nails set into him before clawing down his back, lifting your hips in the hopes of a little more friction. He let out a shaky breath, but he still didn’t give in. You brought your hands to his front, lightly trailing down his chest and the firm planes of his stomach. He trembled beneath your touch, but he still didn’t give in.

He'd nearly forgotten how good it really felt to be touched by you. He just knew that no one else measured up. After a few lackluster attempts to find a replacement, he’d just given up. He hadn’t thought about how long it’d been since a hand besides his own touched him like this. But now it was all coming back to him.

His arms caged you in, resting on either side of your head. His lips were pressed lightly against yours as he spoke. “Say you missed me too.”

He’d meant for it to come out as a command, but it fell from his lips like a plea. When this was all over you’d say that you were just taking pity on him with your response, but you were taking just as much pity on yourself as you said, “I missed you, Obispo.”

He caught your lips in a bruising kiss as he slid into you. You instantly wrapped your legs around him, pulling him flush to you. His thrusts were slow at first, methodical since he was already on the brink of losing it. You hooked your arms underneath his and pulled him tight, pinning his chest to yours. He moaned as he slipped his tongue into your mouth. The last time he was this tangled up with someone was the last time he was with you, and those memories seemed to get farther and farther away. It felt new and like coming home again all at once. The feeling of your skin pressed against his wiped away every other thought that he had. He felt the way that your legs tightened around his waist, the way your nails dug into the skin of his back, the way that your walls fluttered around his cock as he continued to thrust into you. You were all over him, quenching a thirst that had been silently killing him.

Pulling his mouth off of yours, he dropped his face into the crook of your neck. You moaned as you felt his teeth sinking into the soft skin there, sucking hard enough to leave a mark for the morning. Your hands clawed at him helplessly, not quite sure what you were reaching for. Maybe leaving the red trails for the morning would be enough.

He lifted himself up just enough so that his chest wasn’t pressed against yours anymore. You tried to pull him back down but he held fast, slowing his pace down again as he waited for you to look him in the eyes. You did, biting down on your bottom lip nearly hard enough to draw blood.

His hand grazed teasingly over your breast, enough to make you squirm but not enough to give you enough of anything. You whined and his hand immediately wrapped around your throat at that. You brought your hand up so that it was wrapped tightly around his forearm, but he could see it in your eyes that you weren’t trying to stop him. He tightened his grip a little more, and a smile curled your lips.

“You gonna smile like that when you cum for me, querida?” he asked, feeling the way that you were clenching around him.

“Yes,” you gasped out.

It got a smile out of him too as he sped up his pace. “Good.”

It didn’t take long before you were arching you back, whining against his vice grip as you came around him. He relinquished his grip on your neck as you came, watching the way you chest heaved with each breath you sucked in. He leaned in, attaching his lips to yours before you’d fully caught your breath, but you didn’t even care. You cupped his face, moving your lips hungrily against his as you felt his hips start to stutter.

He came inside you with a moan, dropping his forehead against yours. You wrapped your arms around him, feeling the sweat beneath the pads of your fingers. He kept thrusting into you, like maybe if he pushed himself deep enough inside you, you’d miss him enough to keep coming back. Maybe you wouldn’t leave at all.

You tightened the loop of your legs around him, making him still. He pressed a string of lazy kisses along your sweat-slicked skin. You squirmed at the ticklish sensation of his beard against your neck and shoulder, but you smiled, your hand resting on the back of his head so that he wouldn’t stop. His hands wandered all over you, as though being inside you, laying against you, still wasn’t enough to satiate months and months of hunger.

“Bishop?” you said after a couple minutes of silence.

He lifted his head enough to look you in the eyes. “Yea?”

“Leaving without saying goodbye was kind of shitty.”

He huffed out a laugh, letting his forehead rest against yours. “That your version of an apology?”

“No,” you chuckled, “letting you fuck me was my version of an apology.” He shook his head, but he didn’t have it in him to fight you on it. You caressed the sides of his face. “You glad you let me in?”

“I’m glad I didn’t shoot you through the fucking door,” he joked.

“Did you think about it?” you asked with a breathless laugh.

“I think about doing that to anyone who rolls up here in the middle of the night.”

You hummed in acknowledgment. “That’s fair.”

There were a few beats of silence before he asked, “Tell me something?”

You let out a tired laugh, “What, like a secret?”

“Yea, sure. Tell me a secret—tell me where you’ve been. Or why you’re back.”

You sighed, shutting your eyes. “You know, Bish, this isn’t really a conversation I wanna have while you’re still inside of me. Can it wait until morning?”

“You think I won’t be inside of you in the morning?”

You had to chuckle at that. “Not if you wanna find out where I’ve been.”

He kissed you on the lips, softly like he was really soaking it in this time. “Alright.”

The two of you eventually settled, his arms wrapped around your waist to keep your back flush against his chest. His legs were tangled between yours, every now and then you’d feel him press a kiss to your shoulder or back. Sometimes his fingers would drift so that they ran over your thighs, but they always came back to their original position around your waist, keeping you snug and safe to him. Before too long, you heard his breathing evening out as he fell asleep. It was only then that you were able to drift off to sleep too.

When you woke up in the morning, it was light out, the sun slipping through the crack in the curtain. Bishop’s hold on you had tightened during the night, like even in his sleep he was trying to make sure you didn’t slip away again. You let out a sigh as your body fully woke up, your hands resting on top of his. He was still fast asleep, steady exhales ghosting over your skin. The ache that was starting to bloom in your chest made you remember why, among many reasons, you never backtracked to the same place, the same people. Slowly and carefully, you pried yourself free. By some miracle, he was still out cold.

Your footsteps were exceptionally light as you crept around the room, gathering your clothes and redressing as you went. You looked over at the mattress—Bishop was still laying with his back to you and you could see the red marks left from the night before. You frowned, raking your fingers back along your scalp as you wondered if you really wanted to do what you were about to do.

Scooping your shoes up off the floor, you held onto them as you walked back around to the other side of the bed. He looked so peaceful in his sleep, and a sad smile crossed your face at the sight. You knew he’d never forgive you for doing it twice, that if you walked out again there was no way he would ever let you back in. Or maybe he would. Maybe another year, or two, could go by and he’d be just as starved for you as he was last night. You wondered if you’d ever be back to find out.

Leaning in, you pressed a soft kiss to the center of his forehead, the same way you had before. You gently cupped the side of his face, memorizing it, updating the mental image you had of him, one that had been slowly starting to blur when you made the decision to come back. You wanted to say goodbye, but you knew that you wouldn’t. You never did.

You slipped back off the mattress and out of his bedroom, softly clicking the door shut behind you. You didn’t put your shoes on until you were back out on his front steps again. The short walk to your car took much longer on your way out than it had on your way in. As you turned your key in the ignition, you were painfully aware that you could slip back into bed with him now and he wouldn’t know the difference. But before you could, your body went through the motions that your mind wouldn’t, putting your car in reverse and backing out of his driveway, heading to leave Santo Padre in the dust again.

[mister-fleck]

full of surprises: arthur fleck x reader

Prompt: Could you perhaps write a fic where Arthur has a praise kink?

“So, will you come?”

Shifting uncomfortably on the locker room bench, Arthur’s face scrunched into a hesitant wince. “I don’t know, Randall. Clubs like that aren’t really my scene.” 

“C’mon, buddy,” Randall took a seat next to him and placed one of his meaty paws on Arthur’s shoulder, shaking him gently. “Don’t be a wuss. Birthdays don’t happen all that often, pal.”

Tilting his head, Arthur eyed him wearily. He had personally worked twelve birthday parties this week. “They kind of do.”

Randall tightened his grip and Arthur bit back the urge to shy away at the muted pain. He knew that he’d never hear the end of it if he acted like a frail little girl.

“It’ll hurt my feelings if you don’t,” Randall told him plainly, leaning in closer and raising his eyebrows expectantly. His bulky figure blocked out the sunlight from the window behind him and it casted a nasty shadow. “I thought you were my boy, Artie.”

My boy.

A wave of nausea washed over Arthur and he had to look away. There was something about that nickname, about the way Randall towered over him, about how he constantly reeked of gin and motor oil — it always smacked him in the face with unpleasant deja vu.

“I don’t want you to be upset with me,” Arthur eventually found himself mumbling, feeling helpless. He fiddled with the leather tongue of his clown shoe, green eyes focused on his own bitten-down nails and calloused hands. “I’d hate it if you were mad.” 

“Then show up.” After firmly clapping Arthur twice on the back — almost hard enough to make him fall off the bench — Randall pushed himself onto his feet with an ugly grunt, slung his bag over his shoulder, and made his way toward the stairs. “Oh, don’t forget to bring some cash. You’ll be useless there without any.” 

As Randall stomped off, Arthur tried desperately to figure out what it was about him that made him want to puke and hide. Every interaction with him left him with a headache and there was only so much of it that Arthur could take. He rubbed at his eyes after a few minutes of not blinking and forced himself to get ready for the long walk home. 

Saturday night came quickly. With his mother tucked away safely in bed, Arthur paced around his living room, hair mussed and brow knitted. It had been an entire week since the forced invitation and he still wasn’t even remotely prepared.

“Don’t be a wuss,” Arthur scolded himself, echoing Randall’s distaste. He pulled the sleeves of his sweatshirt past his hands, finding comfort in the habit. “It’s just a party. They’re just dancers.” 

Still muttering to himself, Arthur made his way over to the china cabinet against the wall and lifted the lid off of one of the delicate teapots. Inside was a meager amount of crumpled bills, his secret savings account that he had set aside for emergencies. It pained him to have to dip into what little he had, but with a grimace Arthur blindly grabbed at a handful and shoved the cash into the front pocket of his pants.

He’d be the butt of a joke if he showed up penniless to a strip club. 

The subway ride there was bumpy and crowded and it didn’t help ease the queasiness developing in Arthur’s gut. His brain had kicked into overdrive, imagining every bad scenario and uncomfortable situation. What if he arrived first? What if the strippers didn’t want to go anywhere near him? What if he drank too much, made a fool of himself?

Arthur had never been taught how to properly act around a woman, let alone one scantily clad and asking for money. He knew that he’d have to be a little forward to fit in with the others, but he’d hate himself if he overstepped and made one of the dancers uncomfortable. A little lightheaded, Arthur lifted the fabric of his sweatshirt to his nose and took a sniff, making sure he didn’t reek. 

Fifteen minutes later, he stood alone outside of The Centerfold. It was tucked away in the corner, the sidewalk illuminated only by the buzzing neon sign perched crookedly above the entrance. Arthur’s stomach twisted and he puffed out a sigh, scratching at his neck. He felt like a nervous schoolboy, but instead of teachers lurking the halls there were half-naked women.

“Hey there, Arthur,” came a soft voice beside him. Arthur looked around — and then down, to where Gary was smiling up at him kindly. “Didn’t think you’d come.”

“Yeah,” Arthur chuckled, pushing back his hair. He felt a little relieved now that there was a familiar face. “Neither did I.”

Gary shoved one of his hands in his pockets, the other holding onto a white envelope. He looked calm, almost bored. “It’s not too bad in there. Smells a little like piss and sweat, but aside from that — nothing awful.” 

Arthur was too focused on the card in Gary’s hand to digest any of what he was saying. It had dawned on him that he hadn’t gotten any kind of present for Randall. “Shit,” he cursed under his breath, leaning in to speak privately through his teeth. “I forgot to get him a gift.”

“I can add your name to the card, if you want,” Gary offered with a shrug. Arthur couldn’t help but smile a little — Gary was genuinely the only person aside from his mother that didn’t resent his existence. 

“Are you sure?” He dug his shoe timidly into the gravel beneath his feet. “That would be great —”

But before Gary could open the envelope, Randall was pushing open the doors and grinning broadly at the two of them. 

“Took you two clowns long enough. That for me?” He didn’t give Gary the chance to respond as he snatched the card out of his hand. “Better be somethin’ good. C’mon, we got a great table near the stage.” 

Arthur felt his stomach drop and he exchanged a wary glance with Gary before letting Randall lead the way. 

It didn’t come as a surprise to Arthur that he ended up having to frequently rush to the bathroom to hide his laughing fits. The club was a brand new social experience for him, one that he had never imagined having to tackle, and the last thing he wanted to do was draw attention to himself. The place was packed with guys that would happily taunt him if given the chance to. After decades of bullying, Arthur could spot them from a mile away.

Of course, the party of men he sat with all assumed that Arthur was escaping to the restroom to whack off, overwhelmed with all of the breasts and ass on display. The women working at The Centerfold were all beautiful, Arthur couldn’t deny it, but he was wound so tight with anxiety that he couldn’t even consider being turned on by any of them. 

Upon returning to the table for the fifth time, Randall yanked him back into his chair by the fabric of his hoodie. “Just realized you didn’t get me anything, you son of a bitch,” he jabbed, and Arthur couldn’t tell if he was playing around or actually offended.

“I’m sorry, Randall,” Arthur spoke up quietly, rubbing at his arm. He tried to conjure up an explanation. “I think I left it on the counter at home.”

“Did Mommy help you wrap it?” One of his other coworkers cut in, leaning in with a sloppy grin. With the exception of Arthur, the birthday group hadn’t wasted any time on getting plastered. “Or did you do it by yourself like a big boy?”

Embarrassed, Arthur felt himself shrink in his chair, not knowing what words he could string together to defend himself. He settled instead for laughing a little, hoping to hide his discomfort and feign amusement.

“Don’t sweat it, pal,” Randall scooted his chair forward and slung a heavy arm over Arthur’s shoulder, making him nauseous all over again. “I know exactly what you could do to make up for it.”

Instantly sick, Arthur visibly shuddered and tried to push away that terrible deja vu. When he spoke, it was barely audible over the pulsing club music. “What is it?”

Randall leaned back — arm still very much around Arthur — and put two fingers into his mouth to produce a piercing whistle. A dancer from three tables over turned around on her heel, scanned the room and made her way over.

“You see, Artie, this isn’t just any strip club,” he informed him smugly through a sleazy chuckle. “They have… an array of special services available.” 

“I don’t know what that means,” Arthur told him meekly, wishing he hadn’t left his cigarettes at home. 

“I took the liberty of asking this young lady here to tell you all about it.” Randall finally retracted his arm, but only to smack the woman on the ass. She didn’t seem phased, but didn’t look particularly happy about it either. 

“Hey there, boys,” she drawled in a low, silky voice, slender hands resting on her hips. She was wearing a black brassiere and a matching thong, red high heels giving her a couple of extra inches. Her eyes met Arthur’s and he twitched under her stare. “Is this Artie?”

Randall downed the rest of his whiskey and wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand, letting out a belch. “Yup. Take him away, hot stuff.” 

Arthur stiffened, gripped at his throat in anticipation. This was all too much at once. “What’s going on? What do you mean?”

The woman sauntered around Randall and reached down to tuck a lock of hair behind Arthur’s ear. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ll take good care of you.” 

—

You were able to spot him right away. He matched the brief description that had been given to you earlier — skinny, unkempt, timid. Kind of a loser. You fought back the urge to yawn. This wouldn’t be the first time you fucked a virgin. He’d be your fourth this month.

This really wasn’t how you had envisioned your twenties playing out. You were supposed to go to a respectable university, study psychology or ethics, maybe find some sort of garden apartment and adopt a couple of dogs — but all of that had gone to shit after getting knocked up at nineteen. You of course loved your son, he was your entire life, but being a single mother at twenty-five in downtown Gotham had unfortunately forced you into a dirty profession that guaranteed decent pay.

But you’d do anything to offer your son a good, clean life. And if that meant blowing strangers Friday and Saturday nights — well, that’s life. 

Taking the man’s hand in yours, you gently led him through the bodies and crowded tables. His palm was sweaty as he stumbled behind you, almost tripping a few times over misplaced bar stools. The birthday boy Randall hadn’t been discreet about the purpose of all of this — he was nearly crying with laughter as he informed you that ‘his pal Artie’ would probably have an anxiety attack or cum in his pants thirty seconds into being alone with you.

You didn’t find the former funny at all — the latter was something you had experienced a dozen times, nothing special — and you ran your thumb over the back of the man’s hand as the both of you pushed through thick red drapes. 

“How are you doing tonight, Artie?” You asked him smoothly, attempting to loosen him up a bit. He seemed like a good enough guy. “Having a nice time?”

“It’s Arthur, actually,” the man stammered, the lighter pitch of his voice endearing. “And I’m doing okay.” 

“Just okay?” You teased, guiding him further into the dark hallway. You nodded at one of the security guards who stood rigidly against the wall. It always gave you great comfort, knowing that there were a handful of bulky men ready to defend you if something were to go sour during a session. All you had to do was call out.

“I’ve never been to a club like this before,” Arthur explained after a long pause, mousy and apologetic as the both of you passed several rooms. A loud groan erupted out of one of them, making him tense up. “I guess I’m a little nervous.” 

Stopping in front of one of the empty rooms, you took a moment to briefly look over Arthur. The poor thing looked like a stray dog with its tail between its legs. Giving Arthur a patient, sultry grin, you motioned for him to enter. “That’s perfectly normal, honey.”

Once the pair of you were inside and the door was closed, you watched as Arthur took in the space like a frightened child.

The room was something similar to a motel bedroom: a queen-sized bed, a small couch, a night stand. You had chosen one of the nicer rooms that had a small bathroom connected to it, figuring that Arthur might be more at ease if the space wasn’t too closed-in. Especially with the unnerving way he rubbed at his neck. You wouldn’t be surprised if he was claustrophobic.

Rolling your shoulders back, you approached the nearby table to fiddle with the CD player that had been placed there. No time like the present to kick things off. “Okay, Arthur. Take a seat on the bed and we’ll go over the rules.” 

—

Arthur didn’t know how to process any of this. He had just gotten used to the whole table situation, finding that he could calm down and block out the pressure if he hummed a gentle tune under his breath, but now he was alone in a secret room with a stranger and his inner monologue had blurred into static. 

He wanted to speak up, tell you that he wasn’t interested in this, that you didn’t have to do... whatever it was that you did. But once you began to rattle off your terms and conditions, Arthur closed his mouth. He didn’t want to be impolite.

“I’ll keep it simple. No choking, no leaving marks, no kissing on the mouth. We provide condoms and you must wear them. If at any moment I feel threatened, or if you break any of these rules, I will not hesitate to call for one of those big guys out there. Your friend prepaid for thirty minutes. If at the end of our session you’d like to buy more time, it’ll be an extra hundred bucks, okay?”

Perched on the edge of the bed, Arthur remained frozen, lips pressed together and fingers bunched up in his sleeves. You had said it all so quickly and he felt like he could pass out from the implications alone. He had heard the word condoms  — were the two of you going to make love?

When Arthur finally mustered up the courage to respond, it came out jumbled and uncertain. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to offend you, but — I, um — “ He ran a hand through his hair, eyes flitting all over the room, not knowing quite where to land. “I don’t think this is a good idea. You — I mean, you’re really beautiful, but I’ve never…” 

He watched you walk over to him slowly, lips parting as you reached out to gently unfurl one of his fists.

“Arthur.” He had a hard time getting over the lovely, feminine lilt in your voice. “It’s okay if this is your first time.” 

It happened before he could even attempt to stop it. 

A jarring, strangled laugh surged out of him, loud and abrupt, and he felt you jump away from him in alarm, rightfully startled. Not wanting to frighten you, Arthur hid his face in his sleeve and closed his eyes tight, each spasming attack making him lurch forward. It almost felt like vomiting, the way his body contracted, but the source of it lived deep in his chest like a demon.

“What’s going on?” He heard you say after a few moments. You sounded guarded now, cautious. 

Terrified that you might call one of the hulking security guards into the room, Arthur lifted his head and tried his hardest to speak through the laughter. “I have a — a condition — that makes me — “ Trying his best to muffle another series of hard laughs, he covered his mouth with both hands and ducked his head, buried deep in shame.

He hated the way he sounded during attacks. It wasn’t anything like his actual laugh. 

There was a long beat. With his eyes cast downwards, Arthur couldn’t gauge your reaction, but the last thing he had expected after such a heavy pause was a pair of soft arms wrapping around him.

—

You switched modes before you even realized it. You had never seen anything like this before — this ambush of tormented laughter, but the panic attacks your son struggled with made it easy for you to recognize that this wasn’t intentional.

“Let’s take some deep breaths, honey,” you instructed calmly, rubbing careful circles on his back. Your fingertips wandered over the prominent dips of his shoulder blades and you wondered if this man ever even ate. “In through your nose, out through your mouth. We’ll do it together, okay?” 

Arthur stiffened initially at the physical contact but it didn’t take long for him to warm up to the attention, nodding shakily through bursts of laughter. It was admittedly hard to watch — all of the choking and gasping, the pain in his eyes. Pursing your lips, you reached out for his hand and placed it flat against your bare abdomen. 

“Here we go. Breathe in.” You took in an exaggerated breath, hoping that he would feel the deliberate rise and fall of your stomach to help him focus. “And out.” 

It took him a few tries to properly inhale, his lungs hindering the process as they stuttered, but Arthur eventually found a stable rhythm. Not quite hunched over anymore, he kept his hand pressed against your stomach, the other now all balled up between his knees. 

Lost in the transformation in front of you and more than pleased with how he had listened — men never listened anymore — you pushed his hair out of his eyes and gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze.  “Good job, honey. That was very brave.”

With a bashful smile, Arthur shook his head and shyly retracted his hand from your stomach. “No, not really.”

Something had shifted in him. You narrowed your eyes a little, studying him. There had been a definite change in his demeanor upon your gentle approval. Some of the tension had faded. Running your teeth along your bottom lip, you hesitated a moment before testing it out. You had already gotten paid, there was really nothing to lose here.

“Yes, really.” Leaning closer, you brushed your lips against the shell of his ear and scratched at the middle of his back with manicured nails. “You were a very good boy.”

He whimpered a bit and you smiled. There it was. Priding yourself on your intuition, you let your free hand rest against his thigh and dipped your chin to kiss at the underside of his jaw. He smelled like an ashtray but you didn’t mind it. Anything was better than the terrible cologne most of your customers drenched themselves in. “Do you want to know what I think?”

You took a moment to look up at him and watched as he took a deep breath, seemingly steadying himself. His lashes were wet, the poor thing. When Arthur answered you, it was lost in the back of his throat like a secret. “What?”

“I think that this good little boy…” You tiptoed your fingertips up his chest before toying with the zipper of his sweatshirt. “Deserves to be rewarded."

—

Good little boy.

The phrase should have made him angry. If he was like any other man, he would have scoffed and retreated, asked for a refund — but the genuine approval in your voice filled Arthur with a belonging so poignant that it knocked the wind out of him. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been called good. If ever. 

Hot all over, Arthur watched you begin to unzip his jacket, his neck still tingling from that feather-light kiss. Although a part of him wanted to carefully take your hand and halt your intentions like a gentleman, he knew that this may be his only shot at being intimate with a woman. And if you were willing, if you didn’t feel disgusted, Arthur figured that he had to at least try. 

“You have such pretty hands,” he murmured awkwardly, heat rising up his neck. “Do you play piano?”

You giggled next to him — giggled — and Arthur felt pride swell in his chest. “I used to.” 

There was a playful tug to his sleeve and Arthur shrugged out of his jacket obediently, leaving him in his brown slacks and white button-up. His shirt hadn’t been pressed in ages and he frowned, reaching up in attempts to smooth away some of the wrinkles, but you playfully batted away his hands and popped open the top button.

“Why did you stop?” He heard himself ask, not knowing if it was proper etiquette to make small talk. 

“Life got in the way, I guess.” Three more buttons undone. 

Arthur watched as you moved closer and couldn’t hold back a groan upon feeling warm lips against his pulse point. Eyes fluttering shut, he felt his cock twitch hard in his pants, completely at your mercy. He had never been touched like this before and he was still fully dressed. 

With the front of his shirt now open, Arthur shivered a little, his fingers bunching up the fabric of the comforter beneath him. When you nipped at the corner of his jaw, he gasped. “That — That feels nice.” 

This earned him a warm chuckle, but then you were gone, the warmth of your body no longer pressed against his side. Worried that he had done something wrong, Arthur’s eyes flew open—

To see you ever so slowly sinking down to your knees. 

—

You had to admit that there was something charming about Arthur. He hadn’t groped at you with greedy, dirty fingers, he hadn’t tried to smack your ass or tug your bra off. He was willing and kind, and more handsome than he allowed himself to be. You had to hold back your laughter — your faintest touch drove him wild and you wondered absently just how long he would be able to last.

Kneeling now, you smirked up at him from beneath long lashes and watched him squirm in anticipation. You weren’t ashamed to admit that you were great at giving head. You had recently developed a bit of an oral fixation, soothed by lollipops and toothpicks. But if the bulge in Arthur’s pants signified anything, there was an alluring alternative being offered to you. 

“I can make you feel really nice.” You slid your palms up and down along his thighs, rolling back your shoulders again to accentuate your cleavage. “Would you like that, baby?”

Arthur heaved in a breath and nodded eagerly. “Yes ma’am.” 

“So polite,” you tutted, fingers now dancing around the buckle of his belt. Once it was undone, you spread his legs and pressed a lingering kiss to the crotch of his slacks. “Such a sweet boy.” 

As you expected, Arthur was a complete mess, trembling and speechless as you pulled down his zipper. You had neglected to press play earlier on the CD player across the room, but you didn’t mind it. The little noises coming out of him were… 

Pressing your thighs together, you forced yourself to focus on the task at hand, thrown off by your body’s reaction. You never got aroused at work, but you had to pause after pulling his erection out of his pants, the dull throb between your legs unwarranted and distracting.

You must have been standing still longer than intended because Arthur eventually spoke up, voice tight with worry. “You don’t — You don’t have to, I know that I’m not handsome, I don’t want you to feel pressured —”

With pink cheeks you snapped out of it and kissed the head of his cock, effectively shutting him up. “You’re very handsome,” you assured him, trying your best to keep your confidence through the storm building inside you. You had half a mind to actually stop, not knowing whether it would be wise to continue with a foggy mind, but your mouth had a mind of its own: You flattened your tongue against the base of his length and dragged up, up, up before taking the tip of his cock into your mouth.

Arthur groaned again right away, low and desperate this time, and you found yourself grabbing onto the front of his pants to steady yourself, your other hand holding his cock in place as he trembled next to you. 

“That feels so…” Swallowing hard, Arthur reached toward you for a moment before hastily retreating his hand, clearly very shy.

“You can touch me,” you told him in a breath, pressing lazy kisses to the side of his now very hard cock. You closed your eyes, thinking that maybe if you didn’t look at him, you could pretend that this was some other client and not Arthur. Not Arthur and his sweet little whimpers and — his now gentle fingers sweeping your hair behind your ear.

“Is this okay?” Arthur husked quietly, the pad of his thumb tracing along sensitive skin. 

You shivered instantly and had to stop yourself from leaning into his palm, instead smiling demurely and nodding. “Very okay.”

With other clients, you had a bit of a routine. Some heavy petting, a little generic dirty talk, followed by a long, drawn-out blow job, hoping that you could take up most of the allotted time on your knees. Nine times out of ten, it would be more than enough for the men who frequented the club. They just wanted to get off, it didn’t matter how. 

But with Arthur… you couldn’t stop yourself from taking the whole of him into your mouth, wanting to hear him moan again, wanting to please him. 

Obviously not accustomed to this level of pleasure, Arthur yelped a little and sucked in a ragged breath. “I think — I might, I’m sorry I might —”

Knowing that he was looking for permission, you opened your eyes and finally looked up at him again. The sight of Arthur panting, his bare chest flushed, his eyes so dark — you realized that you were now very, very wet. You locked eyes with him and swirled your tongue just so, silently communicating that he could let go.

And he did with a ragged, handsome cry, cumming hard with quivering hips and the slightest tug to your hair. 

You knew then and there that you were screwed. You never, ever, ever let any of your clients cum in your mouth. 

But Arthur didn’t need to know that. 

Swallowing slowly, you didn’t pull back right away. Partially because you didn’t want to, but also because a part of you knew that there was still at least twenty minutes left. You hadn’t been prepared for this. So you remained kneeling, in a daze as you dragged your bottom lip along his now very sensitive cock.

Arthur was out of breath and sounded a little hoarse when he spoke, clearly out of his element and overstimulated. “Thank — Thank you.” 

This made you smile despite yourself and you dropped a kiss to his thigh. He was full of surprises. Still trying to pull yourself together, you squeezed affectionately at his knee. “You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

“What about you?”

The question came so soft and you blinked a few times before glancing up at him, not understanding. “Me?”

Arthur’s brows were furrowed as he nodded, regarding you sincerely. “Yeah. I don’t — I don’t want this to be all about me.” 

Heat rushed through your body like wildfire and you gaped at him, now completely caught off guard. Was he implying that he wanted to — 

“I might not be very good at it, but I’d like to try,” Arthur continued, rubbing at the back of his neck. His eyes then grew wide. “Unless that’s against the rules. Or you don’t want me to. I just figured that I —”

“No, it’s — it’s allowed,” you cut him off, pulse quickening at the idea. You ran a hand through your hair and tried to seem nonchalant, knowing you looked anything but. “You can, if you want to.”

In a clumsy blur Arthur was helping you to your feet and watching as you climbed up onto the bed. You squeezed your thighs together again, realizing now that he’d be able to see just how wet you were. The two of you locked eyes, both a little uncertain, but Arthur surprised you by taking the initiative, shyly reaching over to pull out one of the pillows from underneath the comforter and setting it against the headboard of the bed.

Silently inviting you to lay back. 

You blew out a shaky breath and smiled at him, charmed despite suddenly feeling like a teenager on prom night. Not wanting to make him feel unsure of himself, you slid to the middle of the mattress and stretched out onto your back as gracefully as you could manage, your chest heaving now that the tables were turned.

Arthur’s eyes trailed over your body for the first time all night and you found yourself melting beneath his stare. He wasn’t ogling you like the men outside did — he looked like he was appreciating every dip and curve and you just couldn’t take it anymore.

“Take my panties off,” you prompted, shame flying out the window. You couldn’t remember the last time you had been this turned on and you’d surely combust if he didn’t touch you in some way. 

Nodding quickly, Arthur bashfully tucked himself back into his pants and knelt beside you to do as he was told, warm fingers hooking beneath the hem of your thong and dragging the ruined garment down the long expanse of your legs. It got caught momentarily on your heels, making the two of you chuckle a little, but the nervous smile on Arthur’s face faded into pure lust upon gazing at your pussy for the first time.

You had expected him to pause, ask permission again, maybe procrastinate and stall a little — but Arthur was between your legs in a flash, settled on his stomach now, his tongue already lapping eagerly at you.

“Oh m-my god,” you spluttered, both hands flying up to sink into his hair, seeing stars as you tried to register how somebody so inexperienced could instantly figure out how to do that — 

Arthur took your reaction incorrectly, however, his head shooting up, green eyes wildly apologetic. “Did I hurt you?”

“No! No, no, no —” You shook your head, your mouth dry now as your hips bucked up. You were planning on saying something reassuring, something coherent, but all that came out was a slutty little whine that made something shift in Arthur.

With a renewed sense of determination, Arthur surged forward once more and went right back into eating your pussy like it was his job, his hands curling around your waist as you all but writhed beneath him. 

“Fuck! That’s —” You moaned girlishly, arching your back. His blunt fingernails dug deliciously into your hips as he held you down. You laughed breathlessly, delirious in your pleasure. “Are you sure you haven’t d-done this before?”

Arthur chuckled low against you, a rumbling sensation that sent a shiver rolling up your spine. It was beyond you how the fumbling, timid man from before had the potential to turn into this. 

He didn’t let up, learning as he went along, playing close attention to what really made you quiver — and yet somehow, holding back a bit, as if he didn’t want it to end just yet. 

Almost on the verge of tears, you lifted your head up from the pillow to catch a glance at what he looked like and noticed that he was absently jutting his hips into the mattress, seemingly turned on all over again. 

The words came tumbling out before you could stop them, high-pitched and wanton. “Come up here. Fuck me.” 

This was enough to make Arthur pause, lift his chin, lock eyes with you as if making sure he had heard you correctly. 

“You did so good, baby,” you told him in a rush, pushing back his hair to really look at him. With your entire body quaking with need, all you could do was whimper out a small, “Please.” 

Arthur sprang into action, tugging off his pants — well, stopping a moment to kick off his shoes and then taking off his pants, which made you giggle behind your hand — and climbed back up onto the bed in just his open shirt. 

He hesitated above you and you wondered for a moment if he had spotted some sort of flaw, if maybe up close you weren’t as attractive to him as he had thought, but then he nervously murmured, “You said you had condoms?”

Blushing furiously, you broke into a breathless smile and reached over to the bedside table, catching a glimpse of his cock in the process. The sight alone made your pussy throb hard and your hand trembled as it rifled through the top drawer. You felt around, knowing that there was normally at least a dozen condoms kept there. But, nothing.

Cursing under your breath, you sat up a little more and Arthur did the same, the both of you trembling with want and realizing at the same time that the drawer was completely empty. 

Rolling back onto the mattress, you caught those green eyes again and worried your bottom lip between your teeth. In any other circumstance, this would have been the end of it, but there had already been so many exceptions tonight, and you were most definitely on birth control — 

“Fuck it, just —” You reached out, grabbed ahold of his collar and tugged him forward to break another rule, kissing him hard. 

Arthur didn’t respond right away, shocked and well aware of the terms you had set out, but soon kissed you back in earnest, his hands immediately cupping your face with a tenderness that made you sink into the mattress. 

Smoothing your hands beneath his shirt, you scratched down along his back and he purred in response, grinding his cock against your inner thigh. Completely out of self-control now, you bit down on his lip and reached down to help guide his length towards your pussy, crying out as it brushed against your clit. He took this as the last bit of permission needed and broke the kiss to look down, and —

“Fuck!” 

Arthur didn’t fuck slowly. Once he was inside of you, his pace was rapid right away, hips snapping forward with each unforgiving, bruising thrust. 

You buried your face in his neck, bit down at the skin there and sobbed a little, overwhelmed with pleasure. “Arthur, fuck, fuck, fuck!” 

This time, Arthur didn’t tiptoe around it. “I’m gonna cum,” he grunted, a throaty kind of whine that made you instantly clench around him. 

“You’re — I’m —” You couldn’t fucking speak anymore, because he had tilted his hips up in such a way that made your vision crackle — and then you were cumming, hard, shrieking into his neck.

With your pussy clamped down hard on his cock, Arthur couldn’t have pulled out if he tried. He came inside you with a long, sensual groan that made you wrap your arms around his neck, just wanting to feel him. 

The both of you sort of collapsed into each other simultaneously, all heavy breathing and rapid heartbeats and shaky limbs. 

“Baby boy,” you eventually breathed out, a sort of sigh of disbelief, your hand returning to his hair.

Clearly exhausted, Arthur pressed a kiss to your temple and you felt his lips turn up into a sleepy smile. “Mm?”

“Your friend can go fuck himself,” you murmured, scratching lazily at his scalp and smiling right back, “Cause you’re coming home with me.” 

--

reader tag: @taintednihilist @galaxycat-1459 @hxneyboy @sebastianshoe @insomniabird@jesstaggartt@lenawiinchester @emissarydecksetter @ghoulsguilty @vampirozi @spaceinvader@aclownthing @zy-nnic @alirabbitt @mapreza1 @the-jokers-wolf @nicimixerxoxo @catch-a-star-wish-from-afar @umetsa @skaravile @live-love-loki @clowneyrat @darknessisafriend @chaosheartjester​ @shikoshikomanzuri​ @myfaceisaturnoffsorry​ @foofee0924​ @tearfuljokers​

(if you’d like to be added to the reader tag, shoot me a message! sorry if i’m missing anybody, lemme know if i did!)

[yelenasdog]

it was a pleasure to burn (spencer reid x fem bau!reader)

genre: fluff i think even though the name is v angsty LOL it’s a literal screenplay with the amout of dialogue i wrote LMAO so idk

summary: a particularly rough and disturbing case gets to reader, and spencer and reader are brought together by this.

words: just about 6k (my longest fic ahhHH)

warnings: typical criminal minds gore and violence just up a notch, they get on a plane at the end, somebody gets ~shot~, somebody gets ~bonked~, cursing, mentions of reid’s addiction, and i think that’s it. also the reader wears reading glasses but that’s the only predetermined factor of appearance. btw i don’t think i used any pronouns in this but i apologize if i’m wrong. 

a/n: LMFAO i was outside awhile ago celebrating litha with a nice lil hike and i saw a butterfly and i had just started watching cm and was like hMMm... killer who’s obsessed with symmetry??!1??!? y Es. enjoy 😼 EDIT: THERE IS SO MANY PLOT HOLES OMG FBREHJBFHEJFRE IM RBFBRE

🂦∙🂦∙🂦

Present Day, Central Park, New York

“Aren’t they just stunning?” The unsub spoke, keeping her eyes trained on the butterfly sitting happily on her finger. The brightly colored creature fluttered off her hand that was dripping scarlet, flying around her curly head of brown hair. Her, formerly white, blood-stained dress flowed around her as she followed it, watching in awe as it soared about. She giggled, plopping down on the grass in the middle of a circle of her victim’s pale, lifeless bodies, all of them with ironically morbid butterflies resting upon the frail skin of the corpses.

“Aren’t they, agents?”

She slanted her green eyes, gripping the grass a little harder. I flicked my tongue over my lips nervously, looking over to the lanky man on my left. He simply shrugged, just about as sure of how to handle the situation just as much as I was.

“If I knew you all were coming, I would have cleaned up, I really would have, I promise.”

We slowly walked towards her, twigs and leaves crunching under our feet. It could have been comparable to a hunter stalking its prey, but it unfortunately was quite the opposite.

6 days earlier, Quantico, Virginia

“3 bodies, all found within the last 48 hours in rural New York. So far, the first body has revealed that although it was dumped upstate, the victim was murdered in the city, and the same most likely goes for the other bodies as well. Nails well manicured, no drugs in the system. They aren't junkies, we’re dealing with upper class citizens.”

My face contorted as I took the photos from Reid’s hands, his large and tanned one surprising me by how soft it felt as it accidentally brushed against mine. I blushed like a madman, looking to see him doing the same thing. I cleared my throat getting Rossi’s attention.

“Why are we only now hearing of this?” I questioned, flipping through the images as I did so, my confusion only growing. I didn’t recieve an answer, leaving my curiosity to bloom.

“Wait, how did you say they were killed again?”

Morgan looked up, taking the photos from me. “He didn’t.”

I sighed, pushing my glasses up on my nose.

“Is there at least any correlation between the bodies and the butterflies?”

Our attention was shifted to JJ, the resident expert on the insects.

“Actually, the ones being found with the bodies are from the Amarynthis family, all native to Latin America. They weren’t there by accident so yes, they’re somehow related.”

Rossi stood up, grabbing his coat.

“Well, none of this is nearly enough for a profile, so pack your bags and tell the others, wheels up in an hour. We’re headed to New York.”

4 days earlier, F.B.I. Field Office, New York, New York

“The final report from the latest victim is in, all the autopsies are clean. They show no signs of struggles, no marks, no blood, no anything. The eyes weren’t bloodshot, so suffocation is ruled out, and that was our best bet.”

I sighed, sliding the case file across the glass table to Spence as I took my seat, sinking into it and allowing myself to be consumed by its warmth.

“So what your saying is that we’re back at square one.”

I looked up at Hotch from where I sat, running my hand through my ponytail.

“Yeah. That’s what I’m saying.”

Just then, the young Doctor spoke up as he flipped through the pages.

“The eyes weren’t just not bloodshot, there was barely any blood left in any of the victims bodies, only about 3% of the volume left. The killer drained them.”

Morgan gave me a shocked expression, silently asking for an explanation.

“Which you failed to mention, Y/n.” Aaron spoke, agitation once again present in his voice.

I looked at the ceiling, crossing my arms in front of me before turning to face Hotch once more.

“Yeah, well, I thought it was obvious when I said no blood.” I stuttered out cautiously.

“On the bodies! Not in the bodies!” Morgan exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air in what was in my opinion, very childish. Everyone else in the room aside from Spencer was either shaking their heads or pinching the bridge of their noses, and reasonably so.

“Look, I’m sorry I just didn’t see it in the report, plus, In the scheme of things, it just doesn’t seem to matter.”

I soon regretted my words, realizing how ill-fit they were for the current conversation I was having. Spencer looked up, tilting his head.

“Doesn’t seem to matter? How? There’s an endless amount of possibilities now that we know this. If we had known it sooner we probably could have figured out the pattern and caught the one doing this!” He harshly spewed, his voice acting like a crescendo of sorts, quiet and calm and moving towards a loud and violent tone. Tears began to prick at the corners of my eyes and I was starting to feel guilty, not to mention absolutely stupid as could be.

“I’m- I really am sorry guys, truly.”

Hotch locked eyes with me, taking a stern tone that one would usually take with a disobedient child, perhaps even Jack.

“I hope that’s a comfort to you when another body shows up. That’s their blood on your hands.”

I was frozen, the gravity of the situation taking its toll.

In the background I heard him say something to Morgan about a new profile having to be made as there were many new things to be known from this revelation. But it all went in one ear and out the other, just unpleasant white noise.

As I clumsily stumbled out of the room, I felt Reid’s eyes burning holes into the back of my brain. I was quick to turn my head to meet his glance, causing him to look down. I felt bad, the weight on my chest growing heavier from the interaction.

I sat down at my desk, turning on my computer and immediately going to google. I typed in “hypnosis” and let the info trickle in.

About 30 minutes later, I still felt absolutely horrible, but I had also put together a valuable profile in the time that had passed. I shut the newly finished file, blowing an abandoned strand of hair out from my eyes. I had to do a double take when I saw Spencer staring once more, his deep hazel eyes meeting my own. I gave him a small smile before standing up and walking to Hotch’s makeshift New York office. I pushed open the heavy door, placing the folder on his too-clean desk.

“What’s this?” He asked, taking it in his hands.

“My theory about the unsub. I think I know what she’s been doing. You can tell the team if you want, I’m not sure if they would wanna hear it from me. ”

He gave a small smile, pushing the file back over to me.

“You get the team together and I’ll get the local PD caught up. You tell them yourself.”

A few minutes later, everyone except for Reid had gathered in the meeting room. I peeked through the half closed blinds that allowed a line of vision to his desk in an attempt to locate him. He was positioned there, staring blankly at his laptop that appeared to have nothing on the screen. I knocked on the window lightly to catch his attention, his glazed over eyes looking in my direction. I tilted my head at him, silently beckoning him to join me. He only shook his in response, shaggy brown locks swaying back and forth. I sighed, frowning at his action. I turned to the group, clasping my hands in front of me.

“Everyone, this will just be a second if you’ll excuse me.”

With a raised eyebrow from Hotchner and a jab in the direction of Spencer’s workspace, I swiftly walked out of the crowded room.

“Spence, care to join us?” I asked, resting one of my hands against my hip, the other on his orderly desk.

“No, I don’t think I will. I need to try to figure this out before she finds her next victim.”

“What makes you think the unsub is a she?” I searched his eyes that had seemingly become brighter at my piqued interest in his hypothesis.

“Well, the unsub seems to be obsessed with symmetry, all the bodies being found in obscure yet symmetrical positions. This could suggest she had some sort of deep rooted insecurity, possibly from some sort of bullying from growing up in a small town where she was looked at as a superior for subpar looks. She moved to the big city, expecting a big break. Instead she was shunned for being less than average. She grew frustrated and as a result, she began her killing spree. The stresser could have been one too many insults that made her snap. Plus, that would account for the butterflies left on the scenes that are used in modern examples of both femininity and symmetry.”

I smiled widely at his words.

“What- why are you smiling, what are you smiling at?”

I tapped his desk, rolling my bottom lip between my teeth. I headed back towards the conference room, looking over my shoulder.

“Because, I’m glad we’re on the same page, Dr.”

——————

“So, our girl, as Dr. Reid has explained to us, is obsessed with her appearance. She’s an organized killer, no mistakes and no signs of blood or anything of the sort on scene. She has practice, she does this sort of thing every day. She is most likely in the age group of 23-30, and has a job in the cosmetic industry, our guess is in plastic surgery. She probably volunteers weekends at local butterfly sanctuaries or zoos, finding comfort in their perfection that those in her life, or formerly in her life, cannot and could not provide.”

“Which would explain to her easy access to non-native species of the insects. She has an absolute infatuation with symmetry, which yet again, links the butterflies on the crime scene to her MO.”

Spencer and I were vividly explaining our shared theory to the team, as well as local law enforcement. He was excited by his discovery and the lead on the killer, and his energy was contagious.

“She kills without remorse and out of jealousy, picking victims who all have one thing in common.”

Spence pointed to all of the images pasted on the board in the center of the room, all of them split in half and reflected, creating a perfect mirrored portrait.

“They all have perfectly symmetrical faces, as well as strong jawlines and high cheekbones. As most of these victims are models or those searching to start a modeling career, we believe she is luring them in with a photographer trope, promising to make their dreams come true.”

I nodded, taking a moment to study Reid’s own sharp yet somehow soft features. I allowed my eyes to wander over his sunken in, kind, and curious eyes; his pillowy pink lips that are in dire need of some chapstick.

“Agent?”

I turned my head, snapped back to reality by Rossi calling my name.

I gave a tight and quick smile, returning to the topic at hand and tactics to catch the unsub. But of course not before Emily gave me a crooked smile, resulting in me rolling my eyes.

“Physically, she’s nothing special, most likely a mundane appearance or one with quite obvious surgical changes. No in between. Check all of the plastic surgeon offices in the area for both employees who fit our description, as well as a patient who has gotten any serious facial mod operations. Do the same for any weekend volunteers at local zoos and animal sanctuaries, specifically working with any insects.”

It was an NYPD officer then that spoke up this time, raising her hand briefly.

“But, you still haven’t mentioned how she’s killing them?”

“Hypnosis.” Reid and I both spoke at the same time. He looked to his black Converse, sliding his hands into his pockets. I observed the room and all of the skeptical faces filling it.

“Even if it may sound far fetched, we saw no signs of anything that indicated a struggle or even any marks or wounds. This led us to believe that some form of hypnosis was used to allow her an easy kill. This means extra caution will have to be taken when actually handling the unsub. Even though we’re positive she’s using hypnosis, which method she is using to actually kill them after the fact is what we’re unsure of.”

I turned to Spencer, handing off the explanation to him.

“We think that because of her whole thing with symmetry, she wouldn’t want to disturb the natural state of the victims and their faces, even if she would do the same to her own.”

“Which means?” JJ asked, her blue eyes slanted and glossed lips left ajar.

“It means that the unsub wouldn’t want to leave any large marks like stab or gunshot wounds.” I nodded at Prentiss, who had made the assumption, confirming she was correct.

“With her presumed background in plastic surgery, we believe she was able to make small incisions that made no visible scars. We’re having the coroner look back over the bodies as we speak.”

“She drains the body’s blood 97% of the way before closing the holes up. What she does with the blood, we don’t know. Another Eddie Mays, perhaps.”

I looked over to Spencer, raising my brows at his comparison. He was quick to defend himself, shaking his hands left to right and mouthing “No” while simultaneously shaking his head the same way, something he seemed to be doing often as of late.

After we had finished consulting with any officers who had remaining questions, we branched off to conduct our own routine investigations. We found that the only thing they all had in common apart from the symmetrical faces, is that they all had visited the Central Park Zoo in the 24 hours before they were killed. We received a phone call from Garcia not long after we put together those pieces, being alerted that there was one girl who had, in her words, “Hit every mark there was to hit, sunshine.”                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                              

“Her name is Alessia Copelas, she works weekdays as a surgeon's assistant at Premier Cosmetic, and weekends at Central Park Zoo from 4-8 p.m.”

I smiled at the new info from the blonde bombshell known as Penelope, turning to Reid who was still looking at me quizzically.

“Alright, thanks babes, you’re the best.” I spoke into the phone, a comical “Mwah!” made from either side as we hung up.

He shook his head, keeping the odd look on his face.

“I swear, you guys have a weirder relationship than her and Morgan.”

I laughed, sliding my phone into my back pocket.

“Oh, please, Spence.” I gingerly placed a hand on his cheek, patting it twice.

“You’re just jealous.” I made a pouty face, letting my hand linger before walking off. “Come on, we’re going on a field trip.”

“Where to?” He asked, gripping the door frame, using it as leverage to swing himself closer to me. He took long and quick strides, catching up to me in no time.

“You like animals, right?”

———————

4 Days Earlier, Central Park Zoo, New York

As soon as we entered the zoo, our ears were filled with the sounds of the loud screeches of birds and monkeys alike. Reid covered his ears, cringing and making his displeasure known with an “Ahh!”

I smiled at his geeky behavior, admiring the animals in the enclosures. I paid special attention to a particularly impressive species of tarantula, leaning down to admire them. A few moments later I looked to my left and saw Spencer doing the same thing.

“Did you know that arachnids have asthma which is why they don’t run for extended periods of time, similarly to cheetahs?”

“Yes I did.”

His face scrunched up in an adorable manner, causing an involuntary giggle to fall past my lips.

“Well did you know that-“

“Ma’am?”

I turned to see a young woman with flaming red hair and a freckled face smiling at me, her green collared uniform top complimenting her eyes of a different shade wonderfully.

“Oh, hi, I’m Agent Y/l/n and this is Dr. Reid, we’re with the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI.”

Her expression shifted to a more confused one, her smile not leaving her face.

“What can I do for you two?”

“Is there an Alessia Copelas that works here, maybe volunteers on the weekends?” Spencer asked, his puppy dog eyes immediately warranting a response.

“Yeah, she volunteers here, she seems nice. Is she helping with an investigation?”

“Well we think that she may have some part in a series of murders.”

Her smile disappeared this time, turning into a cement frown as panic flooded her body.

“Oh God, was she- Is she a killer? Have I been working with a killer for all this time? I mean, I never had any shifts with her but from what I heard I thought she was so sweet-“

“Look,”

Reid glanced down to her name tag that read “Lillian” before meeting her eyes. His tongue darted out, licking his lips, a nervous habit of his I’d picked up on.

“Lillian, we aren’t sure if she’s the killer we just needed to get a feel on her and get some information regarding her personal life.”

She started frantically nodding her head, more trying to convince herself she was okay rather than ourselves. I looked over her shoulder at some exhibits, thinking to myself how this would end up being a waste of our time if this poor girl couldn’t get a grip on herself.

I was soon proven wrong when I looked over to see a young girl wearing an identical uniform to Lillian, probably somewhere between 23 and 24. She had untamed chocolate locks with bangs that stopped just above the shoulder, blemishes covering her T-Zone, and a rounded face to go with it.

The cherry on top? Under her arm she carried a small enclosure with what appeared to be amarynthis meneria, the same butterflies found on the victims.

I tapped Reid on the shoulder once as discreetly as possible, catching his attention. I heard him mutter a small “Oh God” before he told Lillian to walk away calmly and quickly. She ignored his request, turning to look at Alessia, letting out a blood curdling scream and sprinting the other direction.

“Shit.” I cursed, beginning to walk towards Alessia, Spencer by my side. I smiled at her, trying to appear friendly. Reid spoke up as we got closer.

“Hello, do you by any chance-“

wham!

“Spence!” I exclaimed, reaching down to help him up from where he had fallen from being whacked by the 4’2 pyscho that was Alessia Copelas.

“Did she get away?”

I turned to see her gone, the only sign she was even here being the forming bruise on the Dr’s face.

“Yeah. She did. I’m sorry, Reid, that was really stupid of me.” He shook his head, running his own hand over the raw skin.

“It’s fine, I would have done the same for you.” He looked up, and I wasn’t sure if it was my school-girl esque crush on him or the fact I just had another experience with a serial killer, but my heart was racing nonetheless.

————————

F.B.I. Field Office, New York, New York, 1 Day Earlier

The stress levels in the room were high.

Despite our best efforts, several more bodies had been found, New York’s narcissists were in a state of panic, and the spirits of the BAU were down to say the least.

“What? Are you kidding me?” I exclaimed, looking at Hotch in disbelief.

He rolled his chocolate eyes, fanning the folder containing the new information we had gathered on Alessia.

“I wish I was, Y/n. She’s off the grid completely, her apartment is empty, phone and credit cards have been deactivated, and the surgeon’s office hasn’t heard from her for 5 days. And the media has decided to give her the name ‘Butterfly Baron’, so she’s probably been fueled even further. We need a new lead before she strikes again.”

I scoffed, standing up and pushing my chair away.

“This is unbelievable. How many times do we have to reinforce the idea to local PD! Especially when the unsub is a self absorbed psycho, do not give them a name! God, I really cannot fathom this.”

I reached up, letting my hair down from where I had messily thrown it up upon my arrival to work that morning.

I stormed out of the room, my heels clicking behind me. I ignored Hotch’s calling of my name, making my way to the closest restroom.

I went in, locking the door behind him. I ran my hands through my roots, tugging just enough to where it hurt.

Turning the water to the left all the way, I splashed it from the stream leaving the faucet on to my face. I scratched my fingernails against the skin, wiping away the tears that had escaped.

“This is all your fault, y/n.” I whispered at myself in the mirror, doing my absolute best to engrain the message in my brain. I had my head hung in shame when a knock rang out.

“Y/n?”

It was Spencer. My mind started going a million miles a minute, thinking about why he could be there. With my voice raised a few octaves, I tried to scrape up a response.

“I’ll be out in a few, Spence.”

It was quiet for a split second, leaving me to foolishly dance around the idea that he had left me to wallow in my sorrowful thoughts.

“Y/n, Hotch wanted me to check on you. Are you ok?”

My heart slightly sank at the idea that he might’ve just come to check on me because he himself was worried. I discarded the thought, bringing myself back.

“Y/n can you please answer me? If you don’t open the door I’m gonna send in JJ or Emily.”

I sighed, wiping under my eyes where my mascara had smudged, begrudgingly walking over to the door. Just as my hand landed on the silver handle, his voice that was constantly playing in my head echoed out once more.

“Y/n, please? I need to know you’re okay. I’ll come in there myself.”

A soft smirk graced my face as I turned the handle to reveal a worried looking Spencer.

“Y/n, oh God, you had me worried.”

He was quiet when he spoke and his hair looked messy, like he had been running his slender fingers through it in a stress filled state.

I sniffled, attempting to still keep back tears that were still threatening to spill.

“I’m alright, Spencer. Really, I’m fine.”

He gave me a small smile, his eyes meeting my own.

“I know, it’s just that when I had my Diludad problem,” he hesitated.

“I would lock myself in bathrooms to shoot up, and I know you aren’t having a problem like that but I just was worried about you- what are you doing?”

I cut off his rambling by throwing my arms around his middle. He tensed, but quickly melted. He wrapped his strong arms around my shoulders and my waist, laying his head on mine.

“Y/n, I promise you, you’re doing your absolute best to stop Alessia. We wouldn’t even be where we are right now if you hadn’t made the connections. Those deaths are not your fault.”

My tears finally began to cascade like a waterfall, staining his shirt.

“I know, but it’s just like it is all my fault! I could have paid closer attention, or-or, I could have went after her at the zoo, it’s all my fucking fault, Reid.”

I sobbed into his shirt, my hand gripping his shirt like my life depended on it. Like if I let go I would fall into a deep, deep, endless hole.

His hand on my waist moved up to cradle my head.

“It’s not, I promise you-“

He was cut off mid sentence by the ringing of his phone.

“I am so, so sorry-”

I pulled away, breifly touching under my nose with my wrist, then moving a hair behind my ear.

“Nope, it’s fine, don’t worry.” Our words almost had overlapped each other as we clambered to fight the tension that had risen. I closed my eyes, tilting my head up, thinking about how unprofessional yet intimate our previous position had been. How wrong, yet how right it felt.

I kept running the moment through my head, the feeling of his warm figure encasing mine on replay.

His phone call played as background noise to the film playing in my brain, his voice calming me to an extent.

“Yeah, we’re on our way. Thanks, Morgan.”

He closed the phone with a snap, also snapping me out of my trance, putting the movie on pause.

“They’ve got a hit. Copelas was seen dropping by her old apartment.”

And for the first time since that Goddamn case had started, I smiled genuinely.

“Let’s go get her.”

—————���——

15 Minutes Prior, Central Park, New York

“Hotch?”

“Yes?” He looked back from where he was driving, following our lead in a rushed manner.

“What will we do if she...” I trailed off.

“Hypnotizes one of us?” He finished for me. I nodded solemnly.

The look on his face was conflicted and it took him a moment to come up with a response.

“We kill her before we have to kill one of our team members.”

He saw a look of uncertainty on my face and spoke up once more.

“And that’s an order.”

I nodded again, making eye contact with him through the rear view mirror. I fell back into my seat, closing my eyes briefly.

After a few more minutes on the road, we had arrived.

The doors all slammed to the SUVs, one after the other as we stepped out.

“The letter said that she would be here, somewhere here.”

The voice of Morgan was channeling through my earpiece, referring to the letter found at her apartment that she had left just for us.

“We ordered evac on citizens, correct?”

The unsure voice of JJ was also heard through the earpiece, her uncertainty quite unusual to hear.

“Yes, it was the first thing we did, Jayj.”

I whispered, a sly smirk from Spencer forming at my behavior.  

“Oh shut up.”

“I didn’t even say anything!”

snap!

Our senses adapted, becoming dialed to 11 at the sound of a twig snapping under someone's feet.

“Was that you?” I mouthed to Spencer. He shook his head no and I silently cursed to whatever force was listening.

I nodded, which he then reciprocated, the pair of us slowly walking towards the source of the sound after he did.

“They’re going to remember me, I’ll go down in history.”

The voice was sing-songy and quiet, floating through the air. I took a shaky breath, continuing my steady pace.

My breathing momentarily halted soon after.

Different variations of “Oh my God”s, and loud gasps from almost everyone on the team flooded my ear canal at the horrifying sight in front of us.

Red. So much of it.

“Guys, I think we know what she’s been doing with the bodies’ blood.”

“No shit.” I muttered under my breath.

She was bathed in the blood, it looked like something straight out of a horror movie.

“Alright everyone, I want you to approach her as quietly as possible, Morgan, if you get the chance, corner her.”

Hotch’s voice was a stark contrast to her own, Derek’s response all the same.

—————————

Present Day, Central Park, New York

“But Agents, you still haven’t answered my question. They’re beautiful, aren’t they?”

“Alessia Copeleas, FBI, come on, get up, lets go.”

Derek’s voice was stern, not asking, but demanding that Alessia come with us.

“I’m afraid I just can’t do that, Agents.”

She stood up abruptly, causing all of our weapons to rise. The sun reflected off of the silver metal of Reid’s gun, sparkling in a stunning way that caught me off guard.

We all were trying to act as if we were in total control of the situation, but we could tell that us nor Copelas really believed that. Her words were her weapon, and this was the one time where words could hurt, but sticks and stones had virtually no power.

“Take another step and we will have no hesitation to fire.”

She smirked, rolling her eyes.

“If you do, will I be famous you think? You think they’ll hear about me back home?”

Her curls softly blew in the wind, making her appear almost harmless, maybe even endearing, if it wasn’t for the hardening coat of human blood soaking her clothes and seeping from her skin.

“Is that what you want? The kids back home and everyone here to hear about you? You want ‘Butterfly Baron’ written on every billboard in Times Square, your picture painted in museums, films to be made in your honor?” Reid was the one who spoke up this time, his voice remaining strong. Her eyes shone with a sickening excitement at what he said.

“You want to be famous?”

She nodded vigorously.

“Too bad.”

My eyes widened, surprised at the detour the conversation had taken.

“What-what do you mean?”

“Please, the only thing people will hear about is a sad, boring little girl from a small town who killed to feel better about herself. They’ll forget about you in a week, who knows, maybe they’ll even grow an infatuation with your town, someone you went to school with may get as lucky as to catch their big break!” He laughed, while Alessia looked absolutely devastated.

“You? You’ll be a nobody.”

“That’s not true! I’ll go down in history, and they won’t! I’m the fucking butterfly baron for hells sake! All these people?” She gestured towards her field of bodies.

“You won’t remember their names, maybe not even their pretty faces, but me? I’ll live forever.”

Her nostrils flared and she strode over to Reid with purpose. The safety on my glock clicked off, but Spencer motioned for me to wait. So I did.

“You know, Agent-“

“It’s Doctor.”

This visibly agitated her even more as she started her sentence over again.

“Doctor, you have a beautiful bone structure. Absolutely perfect. Symmetrical, not to mention just flat out stunning.”

A glaze formed over Spencer’s honey eyes at her words. He lowered his gun momentarily before turning towards me, Copelas doing the same.

“And you, Agent. Wow. I feel like I’m in an art exhibit, you’re gorgeous. I think the Doctor man here would agree.”

As he lifted his revolver at me, the situation became all too real as I understood what was happening.

I either had to shoot the man that I was struggling to admit I was beginning to love, or died at the hands of the very same man.

Tears flooded my eyes, all safeties were turned down, and all guns were pointed at Reid.

“Spence, please.”

My voice was weak, something that seemed to bring Alessia lots of joy.

She laughed before talking again, commanding Spencer.

“Pathetic, really! Spence”, she mocked,“shoot her.”

“No!”

bang!

whack!

--------------------- 

Present Day, Somewhere In The Sky, The Jet

I opened my eyes from where I had been tackled to the ground by Hotch, surveying my surroundings to see Alessia laying on the grass, the source of her gunshot wound non-distinguishable from the previous blood on her body.

I looked to the right to see where Spencer had crumpled to, his frame bent in a discombobulated position.

“Spencer!” I cried out, crawling over to him like some sort of dog,

“What happened to him?”

“Y/n, he was going to shoot you-“

“I don’t care you should have let him!”

I cradled his head in my lap, allowing my pent up tears to fall.

“Y/n?”

My eyes snapped open for real this time, my mind calmed at the sight of Spencer sitting next to me on the couch, gently shaking my shoulder in an attempt to wake me from my nightmare.

“Spencer! Sorry, was I too loud?”

He chuckled, gesturing to the rest of the sleeping plane around us.

“You’re fine, I wasn’t sleeping, I decided to reread ‘Fahrenheit 451’ for nostalgia purposes. And you weren’t that loud, you just looked like you were having a bad dream.”

I chuckled at the not-so outlandish idea in an attempt to diminish it from his mind and move on.

“I’m fine. But fun fact, I did have nightmares after reading ‘The Veldt’. Seriously, I don’t get how you can just reread Bradbury’s stuff all the time.”

The genius scoffed, starting a rant on how Ray Bradbury’s storytelling was just classic literature and deserved to be reread, thus successfully changing the topic as I hoped my statement would. Although soon after, he caught on much quicker than I would have liked him to.

“And not to mention, The Veldt alone could be seen as a forewarning to the 21st century and beyond, even Bradbury himself supported that interpretation-‘

I gave him a tired smile, enjoying his rambling like I always did.

“-and you totally just got me to change the subject.”

“I was wondering when you were gonna catch up.”

“Hey!”

He laughed as I rested my head on my hand, trying to fall back asleep.

“Really, I can tell those nightmares are bad. What’s going on?” He questioned, his tone empathetic and compassionate.

“It’s nothing, Reid. I just keep seeing in the park, when Alessia got shot and you-you got hurt but instead of getting up like you did in real life, you just…”

I trailed off, not wanting to relive the negative dream any longer for fear of the tears that were pricking my eyes escaping.

“It’s okay, that didn’t happen, I’m right here.”

He pulled me into a hug, allowing me to bury my head in the crook of his neck, his warmth consuming me once more, a sequel to the film from earlier.

“I know, but what if it hadn’t?” I asked as I pulled away.

He shook his head, reaching for his wallet.

“In this job, this course of work, we can’t focus on ‘what if’s’. In this job, we also get nightmares, all of us. It happens.”

He slid a picture over to me, it was of a happy family. The edges were worn from years of being carried, but the picture seemed loved.

“Gideon gave me that when my nightmares started. He told me about how those families we save everyday, and how that’s what makes what we do worth it. And I know you didn’t know Gideon personally, or the work on the specific case with that family, but I want you to have it anyway-“

I cut him off by throwing my arms around his neck, attempting to speak despite being muffled by his fluffy sweater.

“Thank you, Spence. Truly.”

I smiled, and I imagined he was doing the same.

“No problem y/n. Anytime.”

I moved my legs over to be tucked underneath my arms, leaning into Reid. He wrapped his arm around me, also leaning in. We both managed to fall asleep for the remainder of the ride in our state of content, but not before he managed to sleepily call out my name.

“Y/n?”

“Yeah?”

“When we land do you wanna go on a date or somethin’?”

I smiled at him, separating from his form just long enough to see that beautiful face of his.

“Without a doubt.”

🂦∙🂦∙🂦

AHAHAHHAHAHAHA I’M WAY TOO HAPPY WITH THAT LMAOOO but anyway chile- 

i don’t have some long ass paragraph to write this time omg wig, i’m just proud asf of my work for once (except for the zoo part ngl kinda didn’t like it😳) 

😛✨vibes✨ love u, xx hj

[rattlung]

sorry this took so long! it kinda got away from me after a bit (it’s like 6k words so i’m rlly hoping this read more works on mobile lmao) and turned into a lot of introspection, as my stuff often does when it comes to mirage for some reason. hope you enjoy :^) and ty for sending smth in

(yeah ik mystik keeping in contact through fuckin fan mail is a bit of a stretch especially since crypto mentions burning letters, implying communication through paper, but it was the only thing i could come up with and i didn’t want this to take longer than necessary. just kinda shrug it off because at this point - eh yknow??? the letter mirage comes across is based off the one crypto sends to mystik in the loading screen with him and gibby

also, i looked up a ton of different sites and even checked the wiki but i’m still nervous about crypto’s name and how to write it properly. if i’m still doing it wrong, please please PLEASE let me know. i will literally rewrite this entire thing lmao)

established relationship kinda idk and also set in a kinda canon divergent au where the games hold seasons that last a few months with set teams

----=----

Despite popular belief, Elliott was a smart guy. He lived and studied under his mother, an amazing engineer in her own right, and even had a huge part in the development of some of the tech he used in the arena. It’s just that, sometimes, even he forgot about his own intelligence. Standing next to his fellow legends, it was like any confidence he had left in one fell swoop. He would stutter under their gazes and second guess himself on anything he said the second he said it. It’s something he’d always berate himself on later when he’s alone in his dorm where no one could see him.

Because he was smart. He’d tell himself that when he looked at his own smiling face, as surrounded as he was by it. Apex merch, some fanart, some cutouts they had stood up in stores he’d been sent. Elliott would stare at it all and remind himself that Mirage in the media was who he was. He’d gotten to legend status on his own, and that wasn’t something to write off. He was as intelligent as the rest of them, he just needed to remember that.

Though, admittedly, it did take Elliott a good minute to realize that the message he’d been sent wasn’t for him.

But, in his defense, this wasn’t an issue that had ever come up before. After their breach that forced them to move planets, the Apex Team had taken extra precautions when it came to legends getting fan mail. Elliott hadn’t blamed them, but he still couldn’t help but raise a brow at the extent they went to. In his opinion, it was just, like, two steps above sending it in on paper the old fashioned way. Honestly, that would go faster, since that didn’t need to be scoured by security software. Sometimes the dates lagged by so much that Elliott would get things months after a someone sent it.

So, yes, it did require a few read through’s for him to parse what was going on in the small paragraph. To be fair, it had his name in it. Don’t act so pretentious, TJ, everyone knows who Mirage is. The rest of the message was written in the same way: to someone who wasn’t actually Elliott and from someone who’s seemingly exchanged letters with this “TJ” before.

Maybe the program was on the fritz, picked out Elliott’s alias and sent it over to his inbox. It was something worth mentioning to the higher ups, because that absolutely had to be a liability in their new safety protocols. But more importantly - and definitely the thing he was going to address first - who was this letter for? Who was TJ?

There were only a few options, as most of the legends had opted to come forth with their real names when signing up for the Games. Elliott knew Bloodhound still operated under a veil of mystery, but he doubted they could be TJ. From what he remembered when he walked passed their dorm - which was usually something he tried to do quickly, since the bird Hound kept in there with them seemed to like Elliott only a little more than it liked Pathfinder - they didn’t even have a computer set up. No contact to the outside world unless it was through interviews.

Wraith just recently came across her name, Elliott remembered. She’d mentioned it in passing before disappearing for a few weeks in an abrupt request for time off. Wraith never really talked to anyone, so it kind of made sense. Everyone needed someone to vent to, even if it was about Elliott. What could TJ stand for? Taylor Jenkins? Tanya Jones?

Tilly Junior.

But then again, it really could have been any of them. Elliott wouldn’t put it passed Caustic to be using a fake name. Any of them could be using a fake name, and he doubted going around and asking would get him anywhere. 

Elliott let the holopad slip onto the cushion of the couch he’d been lounging on, his head falling back to thump against the wall. Crypto would be able to help with the new mystery, that was at least something he was sure of. The amount of badgering and begging needed to actually get the hacker to relent and do any helping? Now that was unknown as well. 

In the months that the season encompassed, he and Crypto ended up getting closer than probably either of them would have liked - at least in the beginning. Elliott couldn’t imagine what he would have thought then if he was told that most of his nights out of the arena would be spent at the other’s side, in his dorm, Crypto fiddling with some of the tech Elliott had lying around as Elliott himself talked his ear off.

Crypto was a good listener, he found. It was something in the quiet he maintained around him, a whole lot different than, say, Bloodhound’s. Not that Bloodhound was cold and off-putting; it was more so like what Elliott imagined stepping into an ancient library would be like. Something about Bloodhound made anything above a whisper seem too loud, and out of respect for said library, Elliott left them alone.

And then there was that time Crypto had caught Elliott staring at him when he blasted Caustic with a Charge Rifle from about 300 meters away. The only thing he’d done was give Elliott that knowing smirk then followed it up with an honest to god wink. Elliott was gone after that. 

Things had changed in a steady progression. Instead of Elliott being the one to find him, Crypto would seek him out rather than hide away in his own dorm. When Elliott would invite him to his dorm, mostly joking, Crypto would surprise him by accepting. There wasn’t any verbal confirmation in the shift, though, and sometimes Elliott would worry about it, wonder if he was reading too much into things. Not that it was a big deal. He never cared much about labels, except when he really, really did.

But then Crypto would sometimes push Elliott against a wall in the downtime during the games while they were looting, or even when they were just hanging out. He’d silence ramblings by covering Elliott’s mouth with his own, and who was Elliott to tell him no? 

They were close, now, yes, but for as good as Crypto listened, he didn’t talk much. It was something Elliott attempted to change. He tried to get him to open up in various ways, but the longest he’s ever gotten Crypto to talk was when he asked about the Holo Gear Mirage used on the field. Even then, Elliott did most of the talking. He’d gushed about his mom, how she did a lot of the work and he handled more of the fine tuning, reminisced about their workshop, the long days they used to spent together. Elliott remembered picking up something different from Crypto, then, something almost sad. Like maybe he’d been missing something, too.

Elliott never got to ask about it. Crypto had retreated to his own quarters pretty fast after that. He was too confused to wonder what he’d done wrong, and the worry was put to rest before he ever actually got to worry about it at all when Crpyto sidled up next to him the next day right before the drop. The situation just reaffirmed that there was a lot that Elliott didn’t know, like what kept Crypto so quiet, who he thought about when Elliott talked about working with his mother, what he always seemed to be working on when he was alone.

Or his name, Elliott realized.

After a pause, he scrambled back into a sitting position and grabbed the holopad again. There was public information on every legend that signed up for the Games, but the last he’d checked there had been something wrong with the page dedicated to Crypto. It showed multiple different error codes that were random upon opening the page and sometimes it would even crash a browser entirely. Forums still existed, though, and Elliott would use that to his advantage.

Quietly, in the back of his mind, he felt guilty, felt like he was doing something he shouldn’t.

A lot of the threads were just talking about the recent games and Crypto’s happenings in them. They talked about his marksmanship, which was pretty impressive, Elliott had to say. It wasn’t until a few minutes of scrolling - spent looking through GIFs and videos of highlights, that he won’t admit to - brought him to a specific thread. The person who posted was wondering about the drone Crypto had in his possession, asking about its name, speculating on the model. The top comment on it claimed to have spent time behind the scenes on the Apex Games Production team and declared that the drone Crypto used had a lot of similarities to the ones they use to film the Games. 

The next comment didn’t exactly discredit the correlation, but they did say it was likely that the drone’s blueprint was leaked and got sold to another company, not Crypto having the clearance to use Apex equipment.

I doubt they’d let him have one of the official ones, with all the controversy surrounding them, the commenter said.

Elliott bit the inside of his cheek and narrowed his eyes in thought. It was a stretch, but it didn’t stop him from backing out of the forum and searching “apex filming drones”.

The first result wasn’t a link to the Apex Game’s website. It was another website with comment threads, its title “look what i found???”.

So, Elliott did.

i was doing some VERY LEGAL digging around, because i was wondering where the new guy came from and all that, but there’s literally NOTHING that isn’t hidden behind encrypted messes that would take like ten years to get through but when i tried, i got something on some dude named hyeon kim but when i went around looking for more i found this

??????

Below the post was a screenshot of an article from a news site called Outlands’ Journal. Elliott read it over, but the only thing he processed was “Disgraced computer technician, Tae Joon Park” and “Mystik, Joon’s former caretaker”.

And then, a little more down, was the comment, “Isn’t that the dude who’s wanted for murdering his sister or something?”

----=----

Despite popular belief, Elliott was a smart guy. In that moment, though, it really didn’t seem like a good thing.

----=----

The decision was one he made almost subconsciously: Elliott was not going to tell anyone what he’d found. 

How would anyone even believe it? Elliott was hardly sure he even believed it. Spoken out loud, it would seem like such a tin-foil-hat conspiracy, and it’s not like he could use the thread he’d found the information in to back the claim up. He’d checked it again when he woke the next day, wanting to make sure he hadn’t had some fever dream, but the entire thread had disappeared. Even the account it was posted from was wiped from the site. On a whim, he checked his history and went to the link directly, but that only got him an error page.

The code was something he remembered from Crypto’s buggy Legend profile.

Elliott had almost been late getting ready for the games, he sat there for so long and stared at it. Luckily, the turbulence that signified they were getting close to the closed off arena literally jolted him as a physical reminder. Elliott shook his head and stood, making his way over to the collapsible, garage-like door in order to pull it down.

Isn’t that the dude who’s wanted for murdering his sister?

He was almost regretful that he wanted to go looking for more information. What if Crypto was somehow able to track the searches that were relevant to the article? That could be how the thread was taken down so fast, how the account disappeared. Was that what he was doing all the time, bent over his computer? Working to hide what he’d done?

Why even join the Apex Games, a program that was widely broadcasted across planets? Wouldn’t he want to keep a low profile? How did he even get the clearance to sign up? The producers had run background check after background check when Elliott had been brought in for an interview. So his public intoxication got put under the microscope, but the murderer they let in for free?

And yet, that didn’t sound right, even when he thought it. Sure, yeah, they all technically participated in a blood sport - but the technically was heavily implied. No one actually ever died; sometimes bones were broken and people had to retire after a serious injury, but that was just about it. Everyone who signed up was capable of killing.

But capability of killing was different than cold blooded murder. At least in Elliott’s opinion.

He was just pulling on the last of his Holo Gear when the door rattled in its frame. “Pull y’self outta bed, we got a game to win!” 

“Door is closed for privacy,” Mirage berated.

Lifeline only cackled shortly before replying with, “I ain’t lookin’ at you, am I?”

Mirage pulled the door up so she could see his put-off pouting, which didn’t do much of anything besides getting her to laugh again. He followed her into the loading bay, passing Bloodhound and Wraith. They each gave him a respectful nod, always frighteningly eager to board their dropping platform. Still, Mirage responded with a courteous wink and two solid finger guns.

As the automated commentator announced the approaching drop zone, Mirage was suddenly very aware of the empty space beside him being taken up by another person. At first, neither of them said anything, but that was weird for him, so he had to say something, didn’t he?

“Fashionably late, as always,” he greeted, going for something half-joking, half-flirty. Honestly, he would proudly say he hit the mark, but Crypto didn’t say anything back. “Long night?”

Then, a too long second of silence fell between them as the dropping platforms began to hiss. Freezing air blasted, chilling his face, blowing his hair around, but it wasn’t the reason why his blood went cold in his veins. A voice went off in his head almost like an alarm. He knows, it said. He knows you found out. He knows.

“Always,” Mirage heard, just barely above the wind whipping between them. 

And it was stuff like that that made him felt immediately guilty for the fear he held just moments before. There was that haunted, pained tone that took hold of Crypto’s voice that Mirage always seemed to catch when he knew he wasn’t supposed to. Just like how he caught something like longing when Mirage had spoken of his mother. How Crypto’s empathy felt different than others when Mirage mentioned his brothers.

He didn’t talk often, sure, but Crypto couldn’t stop himself from expressing in some ways. Not around Mirage, not anymore.

Obviously, there was the possibility that Crypto had done something - that very specific something - but Mirage just couldn’t see it. He had that gut feeling, and following those types of feelings got him to where he was right then. Standing among Legends.

Legends, and Tae Joon Park.

----=----

It’s about a month of doing his best of forgetting what he’d uncovered when he realized a problem he’d overlooked. Elliott had already come to the conclusion that Tae Joon and Mystik were close, close enough to risk each other’s safety by maintaining their pen pal status. They kept in contact that way, so the fluke Elliott had gotten in his inbox was not the first letter that had ever been sent between them.

Which meant that Crypto was going to be expecting a letter from his former caretaker that Elliott didn’t know how to give him without starting a shit show.

Just another thing to add to the reasons he wasn’t getting sleep at night, because “doing his best to forget” was awfully hard. Tae Joon’s silences were just periods of dreadful anticipation to him now. Every time they were together and the tapping on Crypto’s keyboard would pause, Elliott would expect to look up to see Crypto already staring at him, glaring, asking him how long Elliott had known - 

But Tae Joon’s eyes would be on the monitor when Elliott would brave looking up, watching text wrap around the screen at all kinds of speeds. Sometimes it would freeze all at once, certain words blinking, and a corner of Tae Joon’s mouth would pull in an annoyed grimace - meaning he’d done something wrong, and the typing would start back up with a new kind of spiteful energy to it. Elliott would go back to what he was doing, wishing he could let out the breath he felt he’d been constantly holding, because sooner or later the typing would stop again.

Elliott was stressed out of his mind and it was starting to affect his performance on the field, but a horrible, evil little part of himself relished in knowing something others didn’t. That stupid, childish thrill of secret keeping. He wanted to hold it close to where no one else could see it, because he really, really wanted to. If not telling anyone meant protecting Tae Joon, then he wouldn’t tell a soul - even if that included Tae Joon himself.

But that was kind of backwards, wasn’t it? He was literally harboring a criminal, wasn’t he? Regardless of what Elliott’s stupid gut told him. Crypto was wanted for murder - but what was he supposed to do? Tell the authorities and get a potentially innocent man potentially killed? Or tell Tae Joon himself and be proven wrong, find out the very dead way that people Elliott found attractive really are out to get him. 

Knowing what he did and not doing anything about it was dangerous either way. Hence the trouble sleeping.

People were starting to notice, too. Tae Joon noticed - and it was stuff like that that was going to get Elliot into trouble. He found himself switching the names around in his head. Tae Joon Park and Crypto were now interchangeable; the only way he avoided not messing up out loud and inadvertently revealing himself and what he knew was just by... not talking. 

Which was hard to do. 

It was easier than trying to condition himself to stop using the name, though. Because Elliott liked knowing it. There was a certain level of intimacy to it; it felt different now whenever Crypto would corner him or when he’d let Elliott turn him away from his computer. It felt like he was holding someone more, in a way. Not a mystery, but a person. He was holding someone. He was holding Tae Joon, kissing Tae Joon in secret, making a mess of Tae Joon’s bed. It was so much, and in those moments the secret was something he almost couldn’t bear. He’d just barely hold himself back from breathing the name, he’d bite his tongue to stop it.

And then the guilt would flood into his head, because he was lying. It felt so wrong to know this when Tae Joon wasn’t the one to tell him. So, Elliott withdrew. He was polite in the games, communicated as much as necessary, still bantered with Lifeline. Slowly he weaned himself off of flirting with their other teammate and reverted back to the beginning of the season. Except, not quite, really. Even in the beginning Elliott couldn’t help himself when it came to Crypto, but back then it was petty arguments that he didn’t know he craved. Now, it wasn’t much of anything besides civility.

The worst part of it might have been that Tae Joon never asked why. He allowed the regression to happen nonchalantly, but that was on purpose. Every so often, Elliott would still get pushed against a wall, when no one else was around. Tae Joon wouldn’t ask why Elliott didn’t talk to him, didn’t visit him, didn’t invite him to his dorm anymore. He would just kiss him, hard, desperate. It was almost like it wasn’t surprising to him. Like maybe Tae Joon had been waiting for it to end the entire time.

Shame would tear Elliott up after he’d pull away without a word. It would tear him up even worse when the next time Elliott saw him, Tae Joon would act as if nothing happened. Business as usual.

----=----

It had to end in some way, so Elliott really shouldn’t have been shocked when it actually happened - or that it was his fault that it went down the way it did.

----=----

He never had liked fighting Wraith. Mirage had been on her squad a few seasons ago and they’d spent a lot of their time in the arena watching the other work. So Mirage knew her tricks, but worst of all, Wraith knew his. Besides his good looks, charm, and being a crack shot with the Wingman, tricks were just about all Mirage had. 

She had followed the sounds of his footsteps when he’d cloaked earlier in the gunfight to heal, weaving through the decoys he’d dropped without skipping a beat. It was a mess of bursts from SMGs, Wraith phasing away to duck behind cover. Another few bursts and MIrage would get sprayed down, only to disintegrate into lights and have him reappear around another corner. 

Mirage strained to hear over the firing outside for her footsteps, placing her somewhere downstairs. He continued up, for once being grateful for the Skyhook buildings and the buffer they provided with their multiple levels. It gave him time to repair the damage done to his shields as Wraith presumably did the same before she began her chase again. They were bound to run out of supplies and floors at some point, but all Mirage needed to do was buy time for his teammates to secure their kills so they could come and take her off his hands.

It was a good plan up until it stopped working. Thing was, Wraith was fast, and Mirage was learning that if you’re not in her squad as often as you used to be, you forget just how fast she could be.

He heard the cocking of a Peacekeeper after he was a few paces onto the roof, which is also when he remembered seeing a fucking zipline in the building on his way toward the stairs. He hadn’t thought about it, immediately stored it under the dumb idea section; zipping straight up to the top floor just for Wraith to light him up and have him fall straight back down like a ton of bricks? No thank you, he’d take the stairs.

“Fuck,” Mirage said quickly, just as a shotgun blast exploded in front of him. Most of the spread was dodged by running around one of the pallets stacked with construction materials, but it still cracked through what was left of his shields. 

He was dead, Mirage was absolutely dead. There was no way his Wingman was going to win against a Peacekeeper, not unless he hit every shot and Wraith missed all of hers - which she didn’t, she never missed.

A kick was placed neatly between his shoulders and Mirage flailed wildly, gripped at the metal framing of an empty wall and used the momentum to swing around - 

- directly into another shotgun blast, one of which he took right into the stomach. That sent him sprawling. He landed hard on his back and the air was knocked out of him, leaving him gasping for it as he skidded a few paces forward. 

Calmly, Wraith sauntered over to stand above him, reloading the few shots she’d used in her Peacekeeper. Mirage wanted to say something to maybe lessen the blow his pride and his body just took, but the only thing he could get out was a wet cough.

She grinned at him and knelt, shotgun going to one side so she could show Mirage the blade she held before pressing it to his throat. “Don’t worry,” she whispered, leaning in close. “I would have gotten you either way. Zigged or zagged.”

Mirage would’ve rolled his eyes had it not been for the kunai at his jugular, so all he did was swallow and wait for the push. But it never came. In the very next moment, Wraith was sent flying to the ground next to Mirage, her side smoking from a fresh Mastiff shot, the sudden sound of it nearly deafening him.

She pushed up unsteadily in an attempt to get to her feet, but Crypto beat her by grabbing at the scarf at her neck. “It seems like you zigged,” he started, mocking her previous low tone with his own smug lilt. Mirage watched as he raised his hand and his drone seemingly appeared in his grip while he finished with, “When you should have just quit and gone home.”

The drone came down against Wraith’s head hard, and in the time it took Mirage to blink, she was replaced with a golden case.

Crypto turned to face him, then, showing off the small smirk he’d been wearing. “Fashionably late,” he announced with a shrug.

Mirage couldn’t help the relieved grin that spread across his own face. “As always. Love that about you, kid.”

Crypto knelt at his side, taking the place Wraith had left behind, and fished around in the pack around his waist for the syringes he kept there. Once it was plunged into his chest, all of Elliott’s muscles seemed to twitch, but he felt his heart rate lower down to something manageable. He lost a lot of blood, though. He was going to have to huddle in a corner and lick his wounds for at least another five minutes before he’d be anywhere close to mobile.

“Thank you,” Mirage said in between a few deep breaths. “You’re a lifesaver.”

“Match isn’t done yet,” Crypto chided lowly. He stood up straight and held out his hand for Mirage to take.

Which he did, but he only got halfway up before he hit the ground again. The cracking snap of a Kraber shot echoed in the empty air above the buildings and Mirage stared up at the blue sky, wondering why he wasn’t feeling any pain. Then, he heard the sound of himself hitting the floor for a third time and thought, that’s weird, I thought I already did that.

 After that, he thought, I lost a lot of blood.

Tae Joon, is the next thing that came to his mind in the form of a horrible realization, one that he ended up voicing out loud in fear, in panic. He sat up from the adrenaline that panic gave him, hysterically hoping that maybe that the other hadn’t heard him, but mostly to satisfy the need of having to see if Tae Joon was okay.

And he wasn’t, not really. He was on his back, too, propped up on one elbow, one hand clutching at his shoulder that was spilling red between his fingers. But worst of all, he was staring at Mirage like the pain was second to the shock.

Mirage didn’t like the look he was getting, and it was especially devastating that it was Tae Joon who was the one giving it to him. Underneath the cloud from the medicine coursing through his system, he knew he had to explain, had to make it so Tae Joon could understand that Mirage knowing his secret wasn’t a big deal, that’d he’d known for a long time and nothing bad had happened.

So, he began with “Tae - “ and then, for some reason, finished with, “Tae - tuh - tuh - uh - totally thought you were going to die from that.”

Finally, he thought, Nice save, and collapsed.

----=----

They didn’t win, but that was the least of their worries. Well, maybe not Lifeline’s, but that was beside the point.

Elliott left the medbay as soon as he could, which still took a good amount of time. The nurse had mentioned something about the side effects of the Revival Syringe along with blood loss and not using anymore meds to stabilize after he was injected. They spent extra time checking his vitals and Elliott didn’t have to be a doctor to tell them that those were going to be skewed.

His heart was still racing when he made his way back into the dorms. It was a little relieving to find that it was empty; after the games, everyone typically accumulated in the mess hall to celebrate the winners. But the at the same time, it was disappointing. He almost wanted to see Tae Joon standing around every corner Elliott rounded waiting to confront him, because getting this over with meant getting back to normal, and Elliott couldn’t wait for that.

So, he risked a glance over at the other’s dorm across the sitting area as if getting a look at it would help him decide on whether or not he should knock, initiate it himself. The door was pulled up, though, left open. Elliott blinked at it once before wandering closer.

The room had always seemed bare, but the emptiness was emphasized now. He noticed that the blanket that was supposed to be folded and draped across the back of the couch to show off the South Korean flag was missing. The box Tae Joon had shoved under there and filled with parts and drives was pulled out, tipped over and empty. Even more, the drone’s docking station was gone.

Elliott rushed over to the desk and tapped the first key he could reach. Only one of the monitors flashed on, glowing blue and asking to proceed with setup. 

“Oh, no,” Elliott muttered. He hurried back out to the seating area and looked up to the screens displaying that day’s match stats. Scrolling across the top was the ETA for the ship’s landing. Ten minutes. “Oh no, no, no you fucking don’t,” he continued to say, practically running to the hall for Boarding.

It Tae Joon got into the city before Elliott could catch him on the ship, it was likely that he’d never see the man again. He couldn’t let that happen.

But Boarding was empty, too, bar the few bots that managed the floor. Elliott practically skidded to a stop in front of one of them, startling the unit’s arms up and out.

“Hey, buddy, you wouldn’t have happened to see a guy, this tall - “ He holds up his hand, palm down, level with the top of his own head. “ - might have looked pissed off, which would be my fault, so I’m trying to find him. Have you seen him?”

The bot’s screen on it’s chest flashed red in the negative, then blue in an apologetic sad face.

Elliott grunted in disappointment. “Nah, don’t sweat it,” he assured the bot, even thought he was absolutely going to. 

He was biting his lip when he exited, nervous. The ship held at least sixty people on it at once. It was a decent size and if someone like Crypto was hiding on it, someone like Elliott wasn’t going to find him.

Elliott swore, once in frustration, twice in shock when he was thrown roughly against the hard, metal wall of an empty hallway. Someone held him there with a fist against his shoulder and the threat of a pistol pressing into his abdomen. He was blinded before he could gather his bearings by a sudden flash of green light, leaving him blinking rapidly to clear his vision.

“Where did you get a gun?” Elliott chose to ask, deliriously, for some reason. “They don’t let weapons on the ship - “

“Who are you?” Tae Joon questioned. The aggression in his voice was something Elliott hadn’t heard since the first few weeks, around the same time Tae Joon was just as likely to twist his arm as he was to snap at him.

“What? Babe, you know who I am - “

“Elliott Witt is too clean, everything on him was too easy to find - they wouldn’t send an Elliott Witt to hunt me down.” His expression was neutral, but there was so much going on in his eyes that Elliot couldn’t look away, even when the gun reminded him of its presence with little jabs. “So who are you?”

And maybe there were a few things Elliott should have been offended by. Like how he wasn’t prestigious enough to warrant a protected record, or Tae Joon’s implication that he wasn’t capable of something he had already done - mostly on accident.

But what he ended up asking was, “You think I made everything up? You think I lied about my entire life for, what? Getting into bed with you?”

Tae Joon didn’t seem taken aback by the hurt that was evident in Elliott’s voice, but it did leave enough room for one second of hesitation. “Then they got to you,” he whispered, somehow sounding equal parts flat and devastated.

Elliott shook his head in confusion. Who was they? “No one fucking got to me, I actually don’t know who or what you’re talking about,” he tried to explain.

“Then how?” Tae Joon asked - angry. Elliott was finally able to identify one of the things burning in Tae Joon’s glare. Anger, and maybe confusion as well. Fear. 

How did this happen, they both seemed to be thinking. How did I let it get to this?

“How did you find out?” Tae Joon snapped when Elliott spent too long watching him. “Who told you?”

“Mystik,” Elliott blurted, shocking the other enough to pull back just a little bit. “Kind of,” he went on in a hurry. “She sent you something, and I - I think the new software they implemented for security read my name enough times in it so it got forwarded to me - I don’t know exactly! I didn’t do it on purpose, it must be mald- malfuk - bugging out! So, I went to check, and I’d show you the forum post I found, but it’s gone already, I swear.”

Tae Joon took a step back, then another. “What did you find?”

Elliott let out a breath, wet his lips in a nervous tic. He shrugged. “Just - just an article.”

Disgraced computer technician - 

Wanted for murdering his sister - 

Tae Joon looked away suddenly and down the hall, like he was planning on running again. His frown was so intense a crease began to form between his brow.

“I didn’t tell anyone,” Elliott said firmly. “I promise. But - what happened?”

“I can’t tell you that,” Tae Joon told him quickly. “If you don’t know, I can’t tell you.”

“Okay,” Elliott replied, despite how much he wanted to push.

Tae Joon seemed to sense that, gave him a troubled look. “I didn’t do it.”

“I know,” Elliott told him. “I believe you.”

It it was so easy to say, but they both knew it was more than the words spoken out loud. The admission meant Tae Joon’s shoulders could drop from their high strung, protected hunch. It meant they could both breathe. It meant Elliott could push off from the wall, get close - slowly - and gently retrieve the gun Tae Joon held to find that the safety was on. Because if he didn’t have to, Tae Joon wasn’t going to hurt him. He‘d never wanted to hurt anyone.

He put his fingers on the cool metal lining Tae Joon’s jaw to get him to look at Elliott.

“I believe you,” Elliott repeated, and Tae Joon kissed him for it. He put an open hand on the back of Elliott’s head and threaded his fingers through the curls that were there, pulling him in roughly. Elliott made a surprised noise but recovered fast enough. He pushed an arm underneath Tae Joon’s open coat to wind it around man’s waist and pressed his front to the other’s, hoping that somehow he’d get Tae Joon to feel the honesty in his words through an embrace. Thinking that he could show off the part of Elliott that was dedicated purely to him by just holding him against his chest.

Anything to get Tae Joon to stop kissing him in that same, desperate way as before, like he was still waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Elliott said when they broke apart. He didn’t let the other go, though, and rested his forehead against his. “So you can’t either.”

Tae Joon’s features darken in a very particular way. “Don’t say that.” When Elliott lifted his head a little to show him a confused expression, he goes on to explain. “They take everything.”

Who’s they? I’ll kick they’s ass.

“They can’t take Mirage,” he said, smiling. “According to you, he’s too hard to carry.”

Instead of laughing, or giving that smarmy little smirk, or even rolling his eyes, Tae Joon raised a brow and asked, “What about Elliott?”

“Elliott’s yours,” he told him without thinking. “No one’s taking that.”

Tae Joon Park moved back in to kiss Elliott again.

=====

thanks for the prompt :^)

[madmadmilk]

i mean i miss LDC and i gave up hope on domino lmao

(domino is SO hard to get back to–– but i’m tired of holding onto it. here’s what i have written SO FAR. idk what is in it cos it’s been so long, but enjoy! maybe i’ll finish it haha/// also this is totally unedited so there’s lots of typos and missing italics but––– here u go)

DOMINO PART 10 | Tom Holland x Reader (# F I N A L L Y) incomplete version

TEASER| PART 1| PART 2 |PART 3 |PART 4 | PART 5| PART 6| PART 7| PART 8 | PART 9 |… (next update ???) 

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: You know things have fallen into place, and that you should feel safe and secure but the weight of it all sure is heavy.

Warning: bittersweet scents, smut, and falling (action)

Word Count: 6K so far lmaOOOOOOOO

-

“Oh my god, is this supposed to hurt? Cos, it really fucking hurts–” Harrison hisses, the sharp “s” sounds cutting through the air.

“Awww, can’t handle a little bit of pain, Haz?” you tease, letting your tongue flick in an exaggerated drawl.

“Well, it’s my fucking face,” he whines.

Zendaya giggles, chiming in as she brushes her hair over her shoulder, “Tom doesn’t have any problem with it…”

Tom sit backs, rolling his shoulders as he tilts his head to look at you,

“Well, I have Y/N to kiss it better.”

You laugh, mumbling for him to shut up.

Harrison retorts quickly, lowering his voice to lay on the charm,

“Well, maybe if Zendaya does it,” he licks his lip while bowing his head, “I’ll feel a little better.”

“I’d just rip the damn thing off,” Zendaya laughs mercilessly.

Harrison makes a shocked face, recoiling away from Zendaya as she playfully hulks over to him. He has half of a black nose-strip stuck on, his skin pink from the tugging. His eyes were pricked red with tears.

“Oh, don’t be such a baby,” Zendaya says softly as she gets closer. You catch her tapping his chin upward, and see the soft look he gives back to her. They bicker a bit, but it makes you feel warm to hear it.

“Nasty,” you hear Tom mumble beside you. You turn back to him, and he’s looking down at his porestrip, blanching at what it had pulled out. He looks up at you with bright, excited eyes as he sings, “Lemme see yours!”

You scrunch your face as you hand it over to him, and he starts comparing the hills and mountains between you.

“Fucking disgusting—”

“Hey!” you huff, putting your hands on your hips. You bump his shoulder with your hip as he sits on the couch.

He makes a face, and hugs your waist easily, dropping the strips in the trash besides you. You look down at him and see that he still has black residue on his nose, and you scrape it off gently,

“Sorry, sorry, love. You’re gorgeous,” his voice scratches low and sexy and teasing.

“You know you are.”

Tom mumbles that, rubbing his face into your shirt, and you can feel his nose drag across your clothed skin. You laugh as you bend down to pound your fists into his back, and then hug him playfully.

Sugary sweet.

Maybe too sweet.

Zendaya makes snippy comments about how mushy you guys are, and Harrison hugs her waist with a little hesitation. She hugs him easily, but you know it’s just her bravado coming out. It makes you laugh to see their clumsy act and debate whether or not they were worse than you and Tom.

You see Zendaya easily sit on the arm of Harrison’s chair, hugging him gently with her manicured nails raking through his hair.

A pretty family portrait.

What a lovely feeling to have your friends in one place together, to have your feelings organized and put out for show.

But this is all just for a little while–

Harrison had his big break, his PA thing, and Zendaya was always busy, but now she would be busy in Europe.

They had each other though, and they could see each other often.

Europe wasn’t too far away, right?

Tom…

No clue how that would pan out.

Tom feels your body tense under him, how your body ran cold and you stood still. He hugs your waist tighter, his hands pulling your shirt a bit, as he spoke some hopeful words,

“Hey, hey, we’ll be alright, if you want us to be.”

He said that a lot.

It doesn’t always put you at ease.

Because, of fucking course you wanted it to work out. Of course you wished for the best, and trying your hardest, but what do you do if the odds continue to stack against you?

You look down at the pretty boy in your arms again, his big doe eyes looking up at you. You ruffle his messy curls in turn and hum,

“Okay.”

Then Tom whispers the words you never get tired of hearing, and you hold onto to every syllable, click of his tongue, rasp of his voice.

Okay.

-

You all wash the remnants of the masks off, splitting up into your seperate bathrooms. You change and return back to Zendaya’s room upstairs, the sacred room, previously hidden and now open. Open to more than just you, to her closest friends. But specifically to one though.

You and Tom would hear Harrison’s door open and close in the night, the excited steps padding up the stairs. You always giggled about it, were warmed by it, and were very aware that in a lot of ways they were more reserved than you already were with Tom.

You enter back into Zendaya’s room, seeing Haz first, with his laptop in hand while searching for a movie to watch. He had a loose batman onesie on, yellow cap fluttering behind him. Zendaya was dressed like a giraffe, her long legs spread across her huge bed while on her phone.

You were wearing a baggy Spider-Man pajama set, jumping into the room to catch their attention.

“I hate you guys,” Tom grumbles behind you, dressed like a big, green frog. He hasd his hand on his hips and lips puckered.

You turn back to hug his waist, biting your lip and giggling. He hugs you back and rocks you back and forth, glad to see you smiling, at least.

“Embrace the meme,” Harrison addsed, snickering from behind his laptop. Zendaya snortsed.

Tom rolls his eyes and pulls up your hood so that you have half of the Sspider-Mman mask on your face. He pokes your nose softly and sings,

“Okay, okay, as long as Ii get to be the frog in your mouth, I don’t care.”

You laugh and push him away as he bends to kiss your cheek.

Zendaya rolls herhis eyes, hopping off the bed, and you see that the onsie is a little too short for her legs, ironic for the giraffe costume., “We get it, we get it.”

You stick your tongue out and run up to hug her too, “You’ll always be my MJ!” you stick your tongue out, “Wanna reenact the Sspider-Mman kiss?”

She pulls the mask over your eyes, “In your dreams.”

“Yeah, Ii guess,” you retort, jutting a chin at the flustered blonde, “Batman’s looking a little lonely.”

Harrison’s cheeks flush as he adjusts his glasses.

“Awww, miss me already?” Zendaya teases.

“Can we just watch a movie?” he retorts, exasperatedly.

You guys set up a projector, showing it on a blank wall opposite of the bed. You turn down the lights, and crawl into bed together.

You and Z crawl into the middle, Tom by your side and Harrison curled up next to her. You all fit together perfectly, with a lot more room than the trunck of a car.

You lean your head against Zendaya’s shoulder, and her head leansed back on Harrison. YourYou eyes trailed down and seeaw their hands holding each other. It makes you smile.,

“Gross,” you whisper to her.

Zendaya scoffs, kicking your leg, before smoothing her foot against you.

Tom sticks close behind you, laying on his side so that his arm easily falls over your stomach. You can see that his sleeves are rolled up, exposing his skin, cut with veins.

You play with his fingers, rolling them between yours, and he hugs you close to him. You could feel him let out a content sighn behind you.

You guys watch Thor: Ragnarok, deciding that you don’t want to watch anything too serious on this last night together. You guys laugh a bit, kicking each other and squirming, making the bed a whole lot hotter than it needed to be.

Harrison fallsfell asleep first, soft snores and a limp arm on Zendaya. Then you feel felt her settle into the bed, turning away from you a bit, her sleepy voice was barely audible,

“… you guys can ju…just sleep up here,” she offersed, a lazy hand waving, “Stay in the bed… or there’s a pull out couch over there–”

You smile, kissing her shoulder, “Thanks.”

Your room wasn’t far away, and it surely wouldn’t be a hassle to move, but Zendaya wanted you guys to stay together. Even if it was just for a night. She humsmed happily.

You look over your shoulder, towards the couch, and are met with sleepy, dark eyes. Tom was still wide-awake;, he did always say that he hasd a hard time falling asleep.

Your stomach does a little flip, and he pushes himself against you, suddenly feeling his hard bulge on your ass. You smile as his arms hug you tight,

“Turn around, love.”

You don’t.

He brings his hands up and down your body, one on your back andan the other on your waist. He smooths the hot felt fabric on your skin and you wanted nothing more thant to take off the claustrophobic fabric. Your eyes flicker up to your friends in front of you.

They arewere fast asleep, and you cancould  only imagine what she would say if she sawsay you in this compromised position.

You give in and turn in your spot.

The low rumble of the movie in the background, and flashes of bright color on Tom’s face makde your heart flutter. Your lips twitched into a smile, as you settled into his arms just to look up at him for a moment.

His cheek is was pushed up against the pillow, his wild eyebrow remaininged unruly, andthere was a wrinkle between his brows in longing. You decide it’s time to make a movemovie.

The second you lifted your chin, his lips are were on yours. Your clammy, sweaty hands reached up for his face, to pull him closer as you breathed into each other. You could feel the waves of heat blow on your face and ripple through your body as you makde out with Tom.

You hear shifting on the bed behind you, which makes you immediately pull away and exclaim,

“I can’t do this!”

Tom laughs, finally grinning. He looks over your shoulder, raising his brows and doesn’t see any movement behind you. He shrugs, and unbuttons the top of your Sspider-Mman onesie. And then another, and another, and then he whines,

“Ffuck , babe,” he leans his head back and makes a face, seeing that all you haved on iwas a lacy bralette. He makes a whiny noise and then kisses your collar,

“I can’t not do this.”

You giggle, playfully pulling his hair as he peppers kisses on your neck and collar. His hand reaches up and pulls the Sspider-Mman hood over your head. Then itthey holds your sides, and he kisses your nipples through the bra. You stifle a moan, and replace it with a hard shudder.

“… Aaren’t you supposed to be in my mouth?” you reference, pulling at his vibrant green costume.

He laughs, “Yyou want me to be there?”

You nod, and he smiles, eyes crinkling as he sits up a bit, shrugging off the top portion of his onesie. He hasd nearly nothing on underneath, his hard chest and abs glowing under the faint light. You bite your lip as he dips closer, crawling over to hang over you.

“..Mmmm” a sound comes from your side. Zendaya shifted again.

You pull your shoulders up and let out a string of curses, Tom laughs, sitting back on his heels, tilting his head at you. You went all those years before goofing off in front of your friends, and now you suddenly couldn’t? Hilarious.

Tom reaches out towards you, a finger tracing a line on the side of your face. He pushes it against your lips,

“Pull-out?”

“Excuse me?” you stutter at his implication.

He smiles wider, and his voice is light,

“The couch. Let’s move to the pull-out couch, babe.”

You brush his hands away, as he hops off the bed. You follow in suit, before turning around and throwing a blanket over youryou sleeping friends.

You walk up next to him, and he throws a heavy arm over your shoulder,

“Damn, Y/N. What were you thinking about?”

You scrunch your face, looking at how he let the onesie hang around his hips, his body flexed in a way that is just unfair. You don’t say anything in return, just content under his arm.

Tom sets down on the couch, and you follow in suit, laying on top of him. He tucks your hair behind your ear, and takes a second to look at you. You look a little sleepy, a little flustered, and a little in love. His heart breaks for a moment, before filling back up with warmth.,

“Now, where were we?”

You laugh, resting your forehead against his chest.

Exactly where we want to be.

You and Tom have slow and fragile sex on Zendaya’s couch, moaning and whispering against the soft snores of your friends in the dark.

…

So, please don’t leave me, baby.

-

“Ah!” you wake up to a soft, but sharp moan.

Your eyes squint open against the bright light, in a room that’s familiar.. But not quite. You’re in Zendaya’s room.

You look down at the weight of your chest, a pretty boy sprawled on top of you… His eyes awere shut and he was not the source of the noise.

You hear muffled curses and giggles of a certain couple across the room. Your eyes widen in realization and a hand flies to cover your mouth.

Tom stirs, and you look at him with bulging eyes, and he mouths, “what?” You both spend a couple of minutes listening to your friends fuck in the bed beside you. His jaw drops, before he smiles and nods, biting his lip, “go, H!”

Ok. So, they’re a thing. Like a real thing, definitely? Yeah? Right?

The exclamations from Zendaya and grunts from Harrison made it seem like they were a thing.

You and Tom hold each other tightly, stifling yourselves from laughing in embarrassment and a fit of “oh GOD’s.” Maybe they didn’t know you were still there?

And lord knows how long this’ll go on for––

Tom sits up, still hidden by the back of the couch that faces them, and crawls up to you. He holds a cheeky finger up to his lips as one hand pushes down on your shoulder. You shake your head slowly, and then quickly in realization. He smiles a toothy fucking grin, as he leans in to kiss you.

“No,” you laugh., “Sstop,” you whisper, but your arms are through (Did you mean “threw”? Or “thrown”? I’m not really sure what “through around” means) thrown around Tom, forcing him closer despite your verbal protests. He smiles against you, fingers wandering across your body.

“Make me.”

You look at him defiantly, but you’re kind of turned on by all this– Tom’s fingers cautiously play with the hem of your panties, maybe still damp from last night, or from the sounds of the morning. He massages your slowly, playing with the slickness.

“Think of me, and not Harrison, alright?” he mumbles, fingers pushing into you.

Your thighs squeeze around his arm, and you make a face. He was intentionally going at the same pace as Haz and Z, listening to their gasps and letting you match up with them. Kind of hard to ignore.

The sights and sounds of the room fade away, and you can only feel Tom’s skilled fingers inside you, and the way that your face feels numb. Your body shudders and shakes as you reach your high, only brought back by a certain pair in ecstacy too.

“Fuuuckk….”

“Oh shit––” you hear your pretty friend say, and you haved no idea what that was in reference to.

“Let me get a towel, sorry,” Harrison mumbles, his voice a lot deeper and huskier and hotter than usual, making you feel a blush in your chest. Tom licks his fingers clean and playfully pushes your shoulder at your reaction to it.

Harrison fumbles around the room, and you hear the bathroom door open. It makes you giggle and Tom sloppily kisses your chest as he lays back down against you. Your body is still wracked with soft tremors, and he hugs you.

Zendaya starts to move around the room, and that makes you flustered. Your sputter a bit, trying to push him off of you so you could get under the blankets and hide your face. But he won’t wouldn’t let you, hugging you with a vice like grip as he gets to hide himself. You shut your eyes and pray that you could keep it together and just pretend to be asleep.

You can feel and hear Zendaya look over the side of the couch to see you. Your eyes are probably held shut tighter than they need to be.

She tuts her lips, and just hangs there for a second.

You sigh, opening your eyes to see her looking a little flushed and bright and glowing.

You open your mouth, but she speaks first, talking back to the blonde in the room,

“Yeah the lil shits are asleep–– Don’tDont’ worry.” She winks at you.

You sputter back at her, but no words come out, just incredulrecudlous sounds. She scrunches her face and smiles dazzlingly,

“This makes us even.”

She turns her head, a beautiful crown of curls flaying out. You hear them both retreat back into the bathroom, conversations muffled as the door closes. You hear the shower run.

“.. Wwhat the fuck,” Tom’s voice cracks, lifting his face from your chest.

Both of you guys burst into a fit of laughter as you accuse him of selling you out, and he says that you’re a terrible actress. You hold his warm back under your hands, and he’s propped up on his elbows, hands under you.

The sun hits his face just right, catching a bit of glow, and his hair shines an almost red-brown. It makes you smile, shutting your eyes for a moment to breathe out.

“Y/N?”

You hug him for a second, before pulling his hair back,

“Let’s get out of here.”

-

After a few hours, Haz and Z are were both set to leave forto Europe. They are were going their separateseperate ways–, not just from you, but from each other. He hasd his own string of gigs in one place, and so does did she.

Kinda heartbreaking in more ways than one.

Zendaya gives you a big hug and you throw youryou arms around her too. She leans into you more than  usual, holds you a little longer, and talks a little softer. It makes you sad.

“I’ll be back in no time. T, take care of yourself.”

“I should be saying that to you!” your voice kind of breaks, but you smooth it over with a joke, “Keep killing it, Z.”

She laughs, pulling away from you to hold your shoulders at arm’s length. You could swear her eyes were a little teary already, “I’ll literally be back here in a month. Everything here is yours. Don’t be shy, girl.”

You make an ugly pouting face, “Yeah, thanks, Z. I’ll–– I’ll watch over things for you.”

“Don’t you dare let my cacti die!”

“I’ll try my best.”

You both struggle to find the words to say, knowing that this time the period of separation would be a lot longer. You’ve both been through a lot, and have been each other’s biggest support system… Wwhat would things be like apart?

“Hey, fly out as soon as you can. We got tickets for you whenever you want it,” she coos, her thumb brushing against your cheek.

“Thanks, babe,” you say quietly, looking anywhere but her amber eyes. You stare at her changing curls, nodding softly.

“”I’m serious, I’m going to be pissed if I don’t see you out there with us!”

“I know,” you laugh, shifting your weight.

It’s going to be hard, honestly. You’re in your last year of college, and you have your own real life pressures weighing on you. Dropping it all to go to Europe with your friends sounds like an amazing deal but…

Zendaya drops her bag and nearly knocks you over in a hug again,

“I’m going to miss you so fucking much!”

Tears blur your vision as you hug her back, burying you face into her collar, muffling yourself,

“I know, I’m going to miss you too.”

It hurts to say it out loud.

“Eat your goddamn breakfast, okay?” she says, prolonging it all, trying to pour all her sentiment at once.

You nod into her and pull away, both of you rubbing your noses and wiping your eyes. They are were both rimmed red as you break into laughter.

Zendaya takes a step back, and Harrison moves forward, hugging you and rubbing your back,  he pullings you up on your toes. You hug him back, leaning a cheek on his shoulder,

“You take care of her––”

“I will.”

“And take care of yourself too, dummy.”

He gives you a hard pat on the back, laughing as he rolls his neck back. His observant eyes pore over you, reading the stress in your face. He kisses your forehead and squeezes your shoulder reassuringly,

“Call me when you can. You know Ii’m alway by my phone.”

You laugh, sniffling. You’ve been through it all with him, weird wet dreams, kisses, friendship, fake fucking dating? You were sure you could conquer it all with him. And he means so much to you.

You watched the two of them pack up their stuff and shuffle out the door. They geot picked up and driove off, and you watched until you can’t couldn’t see the car anymore.

You step back from the door, shutting it. And the silence is deafening for a moment, white noise echoing, and cold.

Warm arms wrap around your waist, and a head rests against yours, bringing you back to reality even for a moment. You weren’t sure if you wanted it back though.

“”Tom?”

He responds by kissing your shoulder.

You settle your back against him, and you can feel all the words he wants to say in this hug.

He made the silence quiet (what does this mean?) , he brought back the sparks of life and why it was worth living.

Tom is was staying as long as he can, stretching out this moment to its limits.

Hopefully, it doesn’t snap.

You turn around and hug his chest, willfully avoiding his face. You know it would break your resolve, make you crumble, make you cave, make you cry.

You stand in the foyer together, standing still.

Two of your good friends are were away now,  Laura is was conquering the world on her own press tours, Jacob is was flying out from his home.

You are were here.

And Tom is was here.

But for how much longer?

Tom begins to sway side to side, humming a song and smoothing your hair. Your felt your fingers itch to grab and claw and beg him to stay. You vibrateing in an odd anger, a strange guilty, a peculiar sense of calm.

Your body quietsed and you let yourself just hug him. Just enjoy this.

It’s important for you to feel these things, to not stifle yourself. You’ll regret suppressing these emotions when you look back. Too often we are content with feeling nothing. There are were some facts to face, and you would prefer to approach them with sincerity, so that you don’t look back and feel the disappointment of “what could have been.”

Still, they are were hard facts to face.

“We’ll be okay, babe,” Tom comforts.

You were going to be alone.

-

Tom hasd one last day with you in LA. You spendt it waddling around the house together, arms tucked tightly around his waist and sticking to him like a shadow. He laughsed and tells told you it is was hard to walk this way, but you don’t didn’t have the heart to let go and he doesn’t didn’t have the heart to tell you to.

Usually you would have liked to take a nap with him, sleep away you r worries in his arms, but you don’t didn’t want to waste any time.

Tom hasd to pack a few things, so you siat on his bed, watching him run around the room. He pacesd a lot, and looksed back at you often. His face softensed when he catches caught your eyes, smiling a little.

It was sinking in.

He stops mid-packing, clothes and half-folded and thrown around the floor. He just throws threw his hands up, saving the trouble for later and joinsed you in bed.

You can could tell by his hungry expression that he wantsed to have sex. Wild, passionate, loving, good bye sex… but you don’t didn’t want to. Not tonight.

“You sure?” he asks, hand tracing up your thigh. His voice is was a little disappointed, “You don'tdont want anything from me?”

You nod, blinking slowly.

“Are you alright?”

You nod again, lip trembling.

“Yeah.. yeah, I’m fine.”

Tears spilled out of your eyes,

“Sh-shit, haha, sorry,” you laugh, looking up at the ceiling so that they won’t wouldn’t fall. You sniffle and shake your head, “I’m sorry I can’t give you what you want right now… but.. I just want to hold you.”

You bring your head back down to look at him. Hair sticks to your face a bit, and you try to smile,

“I just want to cuddle.”

Tom’s eyebrows crinkle and he lets out a loud exhale, stretching his arms out,

“Of course! That’s fine, babe, whatever you want!”

You smile, wiggling into his arms as you hug him back. You smell the detergent on his clothes and, the faint scente of his sweat and just take it in. You nuzzle into his neck, and feel the rumble of his voice as he speaks,

“Whatever you want, I’ll give it to you.”

He rubs your back and you hug him, fingers stretching wide across his back. You enjoy the silence together, listening to each other’s steady heartbeats and breath.

Tom kisses your forehead, your nose, your cheek, your neck, your shoulder, hands smoothing down your clothes––

“Tom,” you say warningly. You end it with a laugh and look down at him.

He smiles apologetically, pretending that he wasn’t up to no good. You can’t couldn’t resist those big brown eyes, innocently looking up at you.,

“Sorry, sorry. I’m just memorizing you, alright.”

Fuck.

You feel felt a stab in your chest at his words. Don’t memorize, you think to yourself. You don'tdont’ want to be apart long enough to even miss each other.

All this is just reminding you further that he’s going to be away.

Far from home.

Tom’s curious hands move over your waist, and stomach, fingers feeling the ripples and contours of you.

“I don’t want to forget anything.”

And that just makes you feel worse, and you wonder if he feels felt your stomach drop because he corrects himself quickly,

“I won’t forget anything.”

He pats your hip, reassuring you with the same words you’ve heard over and over this whole week. At this point, it doesn’t mean anything anymore,

“Don’t worry, darling. I’m right here.”

It’s more of a painful reminder that he’ll be gone.

“… Nnot for much longer.”

“But Ii’m here now, that’s what matters most––”

“But––!!”

Tom smiles, smacking his lips and shaking his head. His brows twitchtwtich then hardened as he leans closer,

“Don’t think about it. We only know.. What’s here right in front of us.”

He reaches out and pulls your hair out from under you, smoothing it behind your shoulder.

It’s funny how he knows what to say, and how to reassure you. You’re still working on finding ways to be better for him, better to him.

“We can only control what’s right here, right now.”

You breathe out a smile, making him grin too. He tickles your sides for a second, forcing you to laugh, giggly, bright and true. You settle into each other’s arms again, and your fingers lightly trace shapes into his arms, then smooth to hold under his elbow. You flick your eyes up and whisper,

“You’re a real romantic, you know that Tom?”

He shrugs, one side of his mouth pulling higher than the other. He props his head up on his arm so that he can look down on you. In a sleepy voice he waggles his head,

“I try to be. Just for you.”

You make a gross face, soon covered by smiles again. You take a second to look up at him, your eyes twinkling softly. The space between you feels like nothing.

You lean up to kiss him, and Tom leans down.

Warm lips meet each other, all the words fall away, and this moment is yours.

It’s the exact, soft and tender kiss you had always dreamed about. The one where in the movie where the camera pans around the pair, rain is falling or the sun is shining brightly. The main theme song plays, and the audience erupts into thunderous applause––

You got the main lead, that part was to the t. But his lips get a little rough, his hands touch places that are a bit more rated-r, and he tugs on your clothes––

“Hey, no funny business, alright?” you hum, laughing.

Tom’s nose nuzzles into your cheek as he laughs, sighing exaggeratedly, “Nothing gets past you, darling.”

You nod, tilting your head up, exposing your neck. He takes the hint, kisses your sweet skin, and your hands roam under his shirt, lifting it up to feel his chest. Your fingers spread a warm blush across his chest as you tease,

“I just want to….” a hand dances around hem of his sweatpants, “Remember you too.”

You touch him soft and slow, memorizing the curve of his thigh, his knobby knees, the mole on his back, his wrists, his ears, his neck, his––

The slow kisses bleed into slow sex.

“I love you, Tom holland.”

“I love you too, Y/N,” he lifts his head, and past his wavy brown hair, you see big brown eyes. They’re smoldering with something for you, something you confidently understand is love. His smile makes your heart break for the fourth time this day, but he fills it back up with burning affection,

“And I will always be thinking of you.”

-

And with that, Tom left.

Gone.

Miles and miles and hours and hours away.

He left on a good note, both of you madly in love. Both of you desperate to keep the fire going, to keep the spirit alive.

And it did, for a little while. And it wasn’t desperate, at first.

Your good friends were away, pursuing their careers, and you were at home doing the same. Your last year of college was starting soon, and your internship would pick up next week. There were plenty of things to keep you mind busy, to point your attention somewhere else.

Tom kept up with the messaging for the first few days, and you did you best too, coordinating time-zones and sleep schedules. You took turns staying up for each other until things had to tighten up.

You found yourself spending a lot of your spare time sleeping, saving up for when you could see his sleepy face on your phone screen, or just to pass the time. Sleep was a good way to avoid your repsponsiblilties, and make tomorrow come a touch sooner. And you never really spent much time excerisng outside, but now you take daily walks, just to get yourself out of the house. The fresh air felt good.

You knew it would be too easy to hole up, and hide away.

You get a message from Zendaya every morning and night, sometimes you hold a conversation together, and sometimes they’re just little reminders or jokes. You guys made it a point to send each other pictures whenever you could. You make sure she sees you smiling.

Harrison messages you a bit too, he’s been all over the place. Photoshoots, filming, and his stuff with Spider-Man, he almost seemed busier than Tom. You’re kind of jealous, actually. Just in the way that he handles it all so well, being apart from his friends so well. You take inspiration from him, and always send him warm wishes.

You really only see Laura through instagram these days, babe was real busy.

Jacob was more of the same.

Dear, dear friends, living lives without you.

It makes you sad, but it’s nothing to feel real, lasting pain over. You feel a genuine sense of happiness and pride when you see their smiling faces, they’re really doing their very best out there.

And so should you.

In the last licks of summer, you went out to the beach with some friends from college. You enjoyed the hot sun, and sting of the ocean waves. You take in deep breaths and remind yourself that your world relies on you and no one else.

Not that you’re thinking of revolving around a certain someone.

You post some pictures you know you look great in on instagram, wanting to put your own foot in the rally of your famous friend’s posts.

It was a set of three pictures, the first was a tasteful side view, your eyes bold and brave, licks of salt through your hair.

You create a bit of a whirlwind, hollers and love and compliments pour in from your friends. They didn’t forget you, no, they’re happy to see you doing well on your own. These little interactions keep you going.

Tom didn’t comment too much though.

You check your instagram photos, and he leaves a like, and a little cryptic emoji. It makes you smile, and drives the fans wild.

You wish it were a little more than that though.

You spend a lot of nights in Tom’s room, clinging to the smell he left behind. You wrapped yourself up in his blanket, pushing pillows around you to mimic his presence. You wear his shirts, and use his bathroom, just to pretend he’s there.

And that was all fine too, until the scent started to wear away.

That was when you started to sleep in your room, and shut his door. You only came in there when you missed him most, sitting against the doorframe and look up into the quiet room. It smelled like him, looked like the way he left it….

But it wasn’t a replacement for Tom.

Not at all.

It made you cry… a lot.

Not sobs, not shaking, trembling tears. Just the occasion drip of tears, or prick in your eyes when you felt extra lonely. Looking at his shirt hung on the back of your chair made your eyes squint and lips press together.

Tom… didn’t message you as much as you would have liked.

You’re understanding though. He was filming, he was travelling, he was going out with his own friends. That’s fine. That totally fine. You were on the grind too.

A month has gone by, school has started. You’re juggling the internship, a full load of classes, and taking care of yourself. You had to squeeze him in the cracks, just as he has to do for you.

Every time you got to get a glimpse of his face in a all, he was in a car, or he couldn’t talk privately, or was about to sleep, or get out of bed.

It’s so fucking frustrating.

-

“Are you alright?”

“Of cuorse”

“Hey, show me your face darling”

You don’t reply

“Y/N?”

You show him

“.. oh,  babe.”

“Sorry! I.. i don’t want to make you feel guilty or antyhing, I’m ok, really.”

He doesn’t speak this time

“I.. i just really fuckign miss you that’s all. And i’m so fuckign tired, ah, you dont want to hear this.”

“No, no i do want to hear it.” “please, tell me what’s on your mind. It’s hard to read you when we’re thousands of mile apart.”

Oof.

“… that’s what’s tearing me apart. The fact that we’re apart.”

“Babe– I can––”

“No, no, stay where you are,” you manage to laugh, “I’m not… asking to see you. Or well, I am, but… you know.”

“I know.”

You sigh, “I.. I just want to talk to you a little bit more. You’re doing your thing, and I’m doing mine, but I want to .. hear about it. At least, and like, from you.”

Tom laughs,

“Sorry, I’ve been a shit boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend?”

“That’s what I am, aren’t I?”

You laugh, “Not sure if you’ve officially asked me.”

“Well, this is me officially asking you,” his voice is light and lovely, “Will you be mine?”

“Oh, please just say it tom.”

“Will you be my girlfriend?”

You laugh, and it clicks in you. This was it, this is all you needed from him. Pieces of reassurance to keep the line going. It’s not needy, or desperate, it’s just the comfort you need.

“Of course.”

[kkyuproof]

Jikook/Kookmin Fic Rec Part 1

(Part 2 Here)

I’ve slowly been building up my list of KM fics and thought I might as well share them with the rest of the Tumblr-sphere (and organize them all because if the rest of my life is a mess, at least my fav fics can be orderly amirite)! I’m somewhat new to BTS and KM so it’s not too big a list, but I’m going to be updating this as I find more that I enjoy :) Happy Reading! 

(most of these are probs old fics because like i said IM NEW HERE IM SO SORRY, but i hope you still find it helpful idk man)

Mostly Fluffy Fics

you are the ruler of the stars (and my heart) by cygnus (sunsprite) | Words: 18k | Jimin reluctantly joins his college’s Space and Astronomy club on the basis of Taehyung’s persuasion. Surrounded by a group of unnecessarily tall space nerds, he unexpectedly finds himself falling in love with one of them.

OH MY GOD THIS WAS SO CUTE. One of my fav fluffy fics to be honest. I was squealing basically the whole time i was reading. love.

i’ll stick to you like glue-cose by cygnus (sunsprite) | Words: 7k |  Jimin merely wanted to study in peace, yet a certain five-foot ten frat boy -- unfortunately also a past hookup -- that epitomizes the very definition of smugness in one entire body whose ego is as big and full-scaled as the national debt, won’t let him.

Another super cute fluffy fic!!! i just found this author and the fluff is just so amazingly written and not cliche at all and ugh. JK acts like he’s all suave but he’s really just a big softie and AH. 

friday nights (with you) by kstorms | Words: 24k |  How a random night at a karaoke bar leaves Jimin with two new friends and a frowny, terribly handsome crush.

Anther classic tbh. I think I’ve read this through like four or five times bc i have literally no life and enjoy this VERY well written humor. There’s like zero angst in this and it’s all mostly Taehyung being a very cute little shit to JK (KM is there obvs and they super cute but ya know). Def a must read.

competency at its highest potency by MauveTarte | Words: 10k | State-Sponsored Runs are the excitement of every Alpha and Omega youth.

Or,

Jimin has one final chance at this bonding thing before his life goes to shit.

the one and only ABO fic i’ve read with NO SMUT. that’s right, ya heathens! this one is solely plot driven (and super fluffy). It’s cute af and Taehyung is an amazing friend :)

(my heart beats) for you by sabotagemyheart | Words: 17k | In which Jungkook, as a child, befriends the exceptionally adorable, small and friendless Jimin, not knowing that after a few years, he’ll be wrecking this very boy underneath himself making him whimper out his name.

okay LISTEnn. This summary makes this fic sound a lot dirtier than it is (ok yes it’s smutty BUT there’s more fluff in this than anything else. its so so so cute.)

Mostly Smutty Fics

Studio 2 by Charmander | Words: 20k WIP | Somewhere along the way, Jimin lost that passion he used to pour into his art, watching as it slipped through his very fingers. But street kid Jungkook is all heart and soul, and he’s more than willing to help Jimin learn to burn with the same fire he carries inside himself.

okay so this one is very plot heavy (as is most of Charmander’s fics) so don’t think you’re getting JUST smut. it has an amazing storyline about sexuality struggles and i think a lot of you would enjoy it! (the smut is bomb af tho sooo) 

Starstruck by SugaTheTurtle | Words: 5k |  Everyone is attracted to idols at one point or another. As part of Big Hit’s staff, Jimin really shouldn’t still be as attracted to Jungkook as he was at the beginning. Maybe if he wasn’t he wouldn’t be stuck hiding inside a closet in his dressing room silently praying that the idol was reaching for the zipper on his pants to change into something more comfortable.

ALRIGHTY HERE WE GO LADIES AND GENTS. This is for all you kinky fuckers out there who love pure smut. It was very interesting at first but as it progressed i was like whoaoaa i need some holy water. this fic is the epitome of “well, that escalated quickly” (but it’s still not rushed ??? which like...how?) enjoy! lmao.

Interlude by Bunbungee | Words: 9k | Jungkook has fallen in love at first listen with Jimin’s interlude and he won’t stop until he finds out why he is reacting so strongly to it. His search for answers takes a new turn when, one night, he discovers just how much the song can affect him.

Okay this was smutty, but still SUPER CUTE bc jeon is his typical shy bunny self who’s super oblivious and jimin is just a sweetheart. looooove.

Wet Depths by WorldwideWriter | Words: 10k | All it takes for Jungkook to break is a slightly unfair swimming competition and a too seductive Jimin.

GIVE ME ALL THE ENEMIES TO LOVERS FICS hell yes. I love their dynamic in this one, they hate each other (but they really don’t lol like come on.) and the sexual tension is insane.

everybody’s watching him, but he’s looking at you by jonghyunslisterine | Words: 6k|   In which Jimin formulates a three-step plan to get the hot bouncer to notice him. (Spoiler: it doesn’t go quite as expected.)

okay this is smutty but also super cute so like idk where to put it but jimin wears a thong in it so i think the smut category will suffice. a quick read but so worth it, JK is a lowkey sweetheart.

Blood & Chocolate by MyHope (CutesyMe) | Words: 35k | “What if I only want you to sit on my lap?” the stranger asks, which is an odd request. People always want Jimin to dance for them. Only sometimes do they ask of him to just sit on their lap but event hen he has to move in some way and not just sit still.

“Same price,” Jimin retorts.

Jungkook spreads his legs slightly and motions to his lap as if it’s the best seat that has ever been offered to Jimin. “Be my guest.”

so i don’t really know what to say here but i loved their dynamic in this fic?? i love the way JK treats JM in this ahhhh its SMUTTY AF but he still super sweet and protective.  There’s sooooome angst but it’s not too bad. Good plot.

New Heights by Charmander | Words 11k| There’s no better way to remind yourself that you’re alive than tempting fate from 700 meters above the ground and the searing touch of another’s fingers dragging down your chest.

1000% my favorite smut fic out there. the dialogue written in this fic is so well-done and absolutely hilarious. Sexual tension is CRAZY. love his fics.

give in to the game by cherrygloss | Words: 23k | “Jimin, if you honestly think that I’m going to pretend to be your boyfriend so you can make your ex jealous, then you’re out of your mind.”

im s oRRY, i know this is mostly smut aljfdlkaldfj my thirsty ass has bookmarked so many smut fics but i can’t help it oof. but this is super cute smut with some feeliins.

Nu ABO: A Memoir by Park Jimin by decompositionbooks | Words: 34k | The world didn’t think it was necessary to give him a guide when it shoved all of these omega hormones at him, so here it is, Park Jimin’s handbook to dealing with heats, unrequited love, and Jeon Jungkook.

WOOH another classic! I live for jealous/protective!JK idk its just super cute. my fav ABO fic!!

two sides; same story by namjoone | Words: 12k | Okay, so maybe Jimin thinks his neighbor is hot.

A little.

Okay, maybe a lot.

haha ohhhh man i love mutual pining. they’re both totally dumb at the beginning of this and i live for it. also some hoottttttt ass smut. (bc i need jesus at this point)

Not a Girl by PinkBTS | Words: 8k | Jeongguk isn’t sure what he did in his previous life to deserve this but he probably screwed up big time...he’s kinda grateful though.

A story about Santa, assumptions and thick-rimmed glasses.

AHHHHH  this is so funny and awkward and hot and EVERYTHING. I live for frat!bangtan with my whole heart. 

Downpour by kikistiel (Kikai) | Words: 15k | Jimin doesn’t know what it is. But now, he’s not sure he’s ready for summer to be over just yet.

IM SCREAMING. This was almost poetically good (aka A+ writing oh my gerrrd). It’s kinda angsty too like a bit but its also so sweet i love it :( go read pls.

How to Seduce Your Dance Teacher by Jeon Jungkook by soranosuzu | Words: 5k | Currently there are a million thoughts racing through Jungkook’s brain, but two very prominent ones finally beat their way to the forefront of his mind. First, Jimin is hot as hell and Jungkook needs to find a way to get into his pants. Second (and maybe slightly more urgent than the first), Jungkook needs to find a way to prevent himself from popping a boner every time Jimin does that in the future and, more importantly, right now.

(aka AU in which Jungkook devises a plan to seduce his ridiculously hot dance teacher Jimin)

HELLL YEAH. that is all.

i like how desperate you seem (in the way you look at me) by fatal (cumrich) | Words: 71k WIP | Packs merge all the time. It’s survival, Jimin knows that, but what he’s not prepared for is the attention he’s getting from a certain Jeon Jungkook, the alpha’s son.

yeeesss we got some more ABO up in this biiiiihhcc. It’s not done yet, but i strongly urge you to read!! so goooood and the smut is A1.

Mostly Angst

The Bet by jonghyunslisterine | Words: 46k |  Where Jeon Jungkook makes a bet that he can get the notoriously single Park Jimin to sleep with him by the end of the semester. 

Needless to say, things don’t go exactly as planned.

Yes i had to include this lovely classic :) Still one of my favs and probably always will be *shrug*. I’m not usually an angst person but this is like the perfect dosage for me to handle lol. If you haven’t read it yet, what are you doing with your life honestly go do it lmao.

lost stars by pjungkook | Words: 25k | Park Jimin has another maknae in his life and Jeon Jungkook is completely losing it.

have you ever felt like your heart was being smushed under an eighteen wheeler and your chest was caving in? Yeah that was me during this fic. But it’s sososo good and i promise there’s still fluff (i cannot live through angst without fluff) so READ.

Falling for you again by Rose_gold715 | Words: 30k | Jungkook loses all memory of the last five years of his life.

Jimin is scared he will never love him again.

wow okay so this one was a tear-jerker. you sympathize with both JK and JM but you’re also sort of frustrated with them at the same time?? soso good, definitely give it a read.

serendipity (none of this is a coincidence) by nclnns | Words: 30k | Jimin feels like crying.

Because the boy -- Jeon Jungkook as he had learnt a week ago -- is the exact opposite of Jimin.

And he’s the person Jimin’s boyfriend has been cheating on him with.

or

In which Jimin finds out that Taehyung is cheating on him with a boy named Jeon Jungkook and in the quest to understand what went wrong, he ends up falling in love with said boy.

so i haven’t read this one in a few months but i remember it being one of the first KM fics i had ever bookmarked, so it must have hit me in some way. JK is a sweetie though from what i remember.

On Patrol by Ragi | Words: 129k| Officer Jeon has his eyes on Mr. Adorable. Officer Min has a strange neighbor he can’t seem to keep out of his life. Captain Kim finds comfort in his son’s homeroom teacher. 

Well, cops need some loving too, right?

Okay so this isn’t like suuuuper angsty but it’s also not smutty nor super fluffy either??? So idk where to put it but i think angst fits this most. I also laughed quite a bit during this so it has humor!! Tae is also like an 8 year-old kid LDJAFODJOA (ft. Sope and Namjin)

we’re not broken just bent by calipha | Words 16k | “You’ll die,” Jimin hisses and they’re so close now that his perfect illusion is broken. Jungkook can see his dark circles, can see Jimin’s lips, red and raw from biting.

“I did almost die in this house once, five years ago,” he whispers, watching as Jimin clenches his jaw but doesn’t look away. “I think I can handle more. I’m bigger and stronger now, see?” Jimin holds his gaze for two seconds before it tracks south to move down Jungkook’s body.

MY HARRY POTTER LOVIN ASS IS VERY SATISFIED. jimin is just a misunderstood bb and jungkook is trying SO HARD not to pine ajweklfkldf.

[vodka-aunt-coran]

my bookmarked fics

@fictionismynationality asked me to dump the entirety of my bookmark folder on y’all so here’s what i’ve got (somewhat organized)

(mostly does not include all the WIPs and “to read”s i currently have open in my 21 tabs)

slowburn:

nothing’s quite as sweet – klance, 50k, kitten/coffeeshop, but the coffeeshop is a capitalist machine

all things infinite – klance, 7k, jealous/pining keith, rated M for graphic blood/gore stuff (not sex)

chaser of fate – klance, 7k, don’t actually remember reading the second chapter lol i assume it’s good too? it’s a reincarnation fic and i’m always a sucker for those so

animal magnetism – shatt, 14k, veterinarian au, dork matt, i rly liked it??

sweeter than pumpkin pie – klance, 45k, i didn’t realize there was a second chapter to this now?? lance taking care of sick keith over thanksgiving, pretty cute

cause you’re learning me – klance, 32k, roommate fic w strangers-turned-friends-turned-lovers. i really really loved it and wasn’t entirely sure whether to put this under slowburn or fluff so. enjoy.

how to fake an interest in biomechanical engineering – shatt, 8k, rly rly cute college au, shiro is Relatable, keith is an annoying little brother, highly recommended

where the lions roam – klance, 7k, tentatively putting this under slowburn? blue keeps protecting keith whenever he’s in danger and lance?? can’t?? imagine why??

time out of mind – klance, 28k, RLY FRUSTRATING TO READ LMAO, keith and lance bicker too much so an alien transports their consciousnesses ten years into the future where?? apparently?? they’re happily, sickeningly married?? oh no how will they ever get back to the present (spoiler: they Have to Kiss)

angst:

this house unfinished – klance, 30k, does not have a happy ending, one of the first vld fics i read and it wrecked me, beware. it’s beautifully written though. belongs in a museum.

what a healing pod can’t repair – klance, 55k, LMAOOO THIS WRECKS U the first part is rly good and so is the second part, and it does have a happy ending though if you’re worried abt that

just static – klance, 84k, YOU! WILL! GET! FUCKED! UP! there’s a lot of injury (graphic!!!) so beware!! also a lot of foreshadowing, and i don’t want to spoil the ending so just make sure you read the tags!!

fluff:

nightmares – klance, 15k, i’ll be dead-honest, i don’t remember reading this, but i know it’s been recommended a million times and i must’ve enjoyed it if i bookmarked it so

got got got it bad – klance, 10k, lmaooo another one i can’t really remember but it’s named after one of my fave disney songs and it’s modeled after the five stages of grief bc keith realizes he’s pining for lance and i’m 98% sure it’s mega cute

never been kissed – klance, 3k, lance (and keith i think) have their first kiss in an alien mcdonald’s. i swear it’s super cute. a nice, refreshing fluff read.

call me beep me – klance, 85k, The Texting Fic. if you haven’t already read it...you should.

we’ll make it, you and me – klance, 6k, written post-s1 wherein keith and lance crash together. injured lance (possible warning for bad injury!!), but ends up pretty cute imo.

cheeky – klance, 3k, kiss fic that is rly well-written and kinda funny?? like. it’s an antagonistic kiss? i really liked it, anyway. rly cute. 10/10.

we’ll be counting stars – klance, 3k, the frat bro astrophysicist lance We Deserve

IDK WHAT TO CATEGORIZE THIS AS BUT I LOVE IT:

stormchasing – klance, 18k, y’all adventure fics are my favorite like idk how much klance was actually in this but it was so much fun to read and i love it so y’all need to read it too ok trust me. seriously. best fic ever. read it.

another word for never – ???, 204k (holy shit), i followed this one as it was a WIP so it seemed a lot shorter to me lmao. a MEGA au where matt is the red paladin, allura is the black paladin, shiro is a galra prisoner-turned-soldier, and keith is a galra prince-turned-traitor. super super interesting mostly-gen action fic, there is a sequel that i haven’t touched but i need to, highly recommended if you’re fine with heavy themes. (seriously, read the tags before you start.)

WIPs:

ok i needed to share a few WIPs which i’m too drained to finish/haven’t been updated in a while

ASPEN FUCKING FALLS – kla...nce...? (in the same way 11/mike is a thing though) & shalluratt!!!, a stranger things AU!!!!! half the reason i’m even adding a WIP section!!!!! unfortunately not updating anymore, but it holds a special place in my heart and i will keep it open in my tabs in the hopes that it will one day come back to life. note the the description says ot3 heavy after chapter 8 and it is at 8/25 chapters....that is what i am holding on hope for.

suis-moi – kinda klance and shatt??, 16k, the brothers au, one of the few fics that i have read multiple times. it’s just...very good. read the warnings though! but seriously one of my all-time favorite fics that i’ve almost completely adopted into my headcanon.

homesick at spacecamp – klance, 48k, besides being named after the one song i have most desired a vld fic to be named after, it’s a fake married au which, by the most recent chapter, is resolved, so you can read without fear of being left on-edge. note the tag “gratuitous ballroom dancing”. that’s how you know it’s good.

watercast – klance, 48k, My Friend if you haven’t read this yet, you should. it’s got mermaid lance and hunk, avian keith and shiro, and curious human pidge. klance-centric though. very interesting universe, good character interactions, highly recommend.

on thin ice – klance, 125k (holy shit), apparently there are two new chapters to this which i have yet to read....so.....i assume they’re good? keith is a hockey player who lance teaches figure skating to. lance has Unresolved Issues regarding partner skating. frustrating at times, but i’m pretty sure it will end well?