#it's only a five hour shift thank god and hopefully i can leave a little early | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

xxxsweetdreamzxxx · 3 years ago

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warnings/tags: dom!Jaehyun sub!reader, fanfic, smut; cursing, hook up, fingering, cunninilingus, unprotected sex, cream pie

summary: a chance meeting while shopping for bathing suits turns your summer vacation a little hotter

word count: 4.4k (help)

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this was interesting to write as the beginning and ending are based off of separate dreams this time, so hopefully I was able to link them in a way that made sense. please enjoy!!

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"How does this look?" You asked your friend Jamie, holding a skimpy neon bikini set to your body.

It was the first full day of your annual summer beach trip with your bestie, and you'd arrived in the seaside town you always traveled to late last night. After eating a mediocre breakfast provided by your hotel, the two of you had headed to a nearby mall to buy new swimsuits. She'd had luck finding one relatively quickly. But the reason you were still there, on the second story of a large department store several hours later, was because you had yet to.

She made a face. "No offence, but it's not really your style..."

Sighing, you put it back on the rack. "I know."

Rounding the stand that contained the bikini you'd just put back, you briefly glanced over at the neighboring section, which had swim trunks. Movement had caught your eye, caused by three guys walking through. You barely even paid attention to them at first glance, but the one in the back caught your eye, and you did a double take.

At this second glance, you saw they were all young, probably close to your age, and very attractive. 'Are they models?' You wondered. But again, it was the one behind the first two that really made you look on in awe. He had muted fluffy purple hair that covered his forehead, and dark eyes that shone like diamonds even from this distance. His soft features and perfect skin made you wonder if he was an angel. His thin white shirt hugged what was probably toned muscle underneath. When the taller of his two friends said something funny, he smiled and oh my God, he had the cutest dimples.

At that moment, he shifted his eyes up and saw you standing there, staring. Like a deer caught in headlights you froze, embarrassed as fuck you'd been caught. But his smile only widened, and he gave you a slight nod in greeting.

Ripping your gaze away, you acted like nothing had happened and tried to return to shopping.

"Oh wow y/n, you saw those guys right?" Jamie exclaimed, following you. "Now that's what I'd call eye can-"

You interrupted her, face flushed, by holding up a pale blue gingham bikini. "What about this?"

Before she could answer, her eyes focused on something behind you, mouth falling open slightly. A deep voice then responded to your question. "I think it looks cute."

You whipped around, only to come face to face with the man you couldn't keep from staring at. Your eyes widened and you gulped, startled. Up close, he was simply breathtaking. Literally; you felt your breathing become strained as your heart pounded in your chest.

"Th- Thank you, um..?" You stuttered before taking a deep breath.

"Jaehyun." He answered.

"Ah, Jaehyun." Damn, even his name was cute. You gave him a shaky smile. "So I should get it?"

"Definitely." He encouraged. He then looked to Jamie, who'd been speechlessly watching the exchange. "What do you think?"

Turning around, you waited to see her response. After looking between the two of you for a couple of seconds, she grinned and gave a thumbs up. You weren't sure if she was approving of the bathing suit or...

"Hey, what are you guys doing the rest of today?" Jaehyun asked.

"Oh, not much." You replied quickly, not planning to elaborate.

"We'll just be at the beach!" Jamie said louder and at the same time, speaking over you. "Wanna come with?"

You gave her a look, trying to shut her up. She looked back at you as if to say 'what?'

He smiled. "Sure. Let me ask the boys if it's okay with them."

He beckoned the two of them over, who didn't hesitate to comply. Jamie introduced you and her to the group, as you were still majorly distracted by the million thoughts running through your head. The tallest of the three then introduced himself as Johnny, a friendly guy with a round face and sculpted arms that were on full display thanks to the tank he wore. The other was Mark, who shyly said hi to you and Jamie. He had a boyish and youthful aura about him that made you immediately assume he was the youngest. They both readily agreed to head to the beach.

Still not fully registering what had just happened, you walked to the check out in a near trance and bought your swimsuits. Then you exited the mall, and made your way to the parking lot. Jaehyun went to get his car while the rest of you waited at Jamie's. When he pulled up, the guys got in. After quickly entering her car with her, Jamie pulled out of the parking lot and followed them as they lead the way to the beach.

"Y/n, you okay?" She asked, taking her eyes off the road for a split second to glance at your face. Your prolonged silence had prompted her to speak.

You removed yourself from your racing thoughts. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just surprised."

She grinned. "Well, today's not gonna be boring, that's for sure. It'll be a lot more eventful than if we'd hung out at the beach by ourselves."

You nodded in agreement. You knew there wasn't much harm in doing this - there would be plenty of people on the beach around you - they couldn't try anything. And besides, you didn't even get those vibes from them. That wasn't what made you uneasy. It was the thought of spending a day at the beach with such attractive guys that made the tips of your ears turn pink and your heart rate increase. You just prayed you wouldn't say or do something utterly embarrassing.

Jamie drove into the public beach parking behind their car, parking a few spaces away from them. Exiting the car, you and her first made your way to the bathrooms to change. This beach was well maintained, a stone walkway lead to them and then continued on and up to a wide bridge that arched over the barrier dunes and then down onto the sand. Palm trees provided shade, which was made good use of as it seemed wherever a tree cast a shadow there was a cool bench to sit.

Locking yourself into a stall in the women's bathroom, you undressed and then pulled on your brand new swimsuit. Thankfully, despite not being able to try it on in the store, it fit extremely well. The gingham pattern, pale blue color, and small ruffles on the waistband and straps made you conclude this was the cutest bikini you'd ever seen. Exiting the stall, you briefly peered into the mirror above the sinks to pull your hair into two low pigtails.

Turning back around, you found Jamie standing there in her new suit, smiling at you.

"Ready y/n?" She asked.

You took a breath before replying. "Yep."

Arm in arm, you walked out to meet the boys, who'd already changed and were standing there waiting, beach bags in hand. Johnny got excited as he spotted you both and practically ran towards beach, Mark trying to keep up with him. Jaehyun looked unbothered as he stayed behind to walk at a normal pace with you. By the time you'd crossed over the sand dunes and strolled onto the beach, Mark and Johnny had already found a good place a little ways away to set up. They'd brought two large towels, big enough for multiple people to sit on, and had spread them out over the sand.

Jaehyun sat down on one, then patted the ground next to him, motioning for you to sit next to him. After a few seconds of contemplation you complied, folding your legs to the side as you still kept a couple feet of distance from him. Jamie sat down with Johnny and Mark on the other towel.

For the next hour or so, the five of you talked about various topics in an effort to learn more about each other. Gradually, you loosened up as you got used to their company. Johnny and Mark were college friends of Jaehyun's, who'd came into town a few days before you to visit him where he now lived on the coast. Funnily enough, the two boys were staying in the same hotel as you and Jamie while they did so - it was the closest to Jaehyun's apartment.

Noon came and went, and the air continued to heat up around you until it was unbearable. You looked out at the ocean water longingly, but didn't want to leave by yourself, and the others seemed to be having such a great time...

Glancing over at you, Jaehyun made a suggestion. "Who's up for the water?"

Despite your assumptions, the agreement was unanimous. As one, you all rose and ran towards the rolling sea, chasing each other. Diving into the waves, you ran out until the water was up to your waist. Johnny swam out farther than any of you, while Jamie and Mark stayed in slightly shallower water.

You heard the sound of someone sloshing around in the water directly behind you. Spinning around, you were met with his chest - his white shirt was now wet and you could see some of the muscles through it - as your eyes widened and you looked up into Jae's eyes. He smiled down at your face, less than a foot away, dimples on full display.

"Hi." He said in a way that made your heart melt. Then: "Feel better?"

"Y- yeah, it was really hot before." Your words betrayed your body - being in the water wasn't cooling you off at all anymore.

You stood there for a few awkward moments in silence, not knowing what to say.

"Um-" You began.

"Woah y/n look out!" He cut you off, sudden panic on his face as he closed the small distance between the two of you.

Suddenly, a large wave crashed into your back. It pushed you straight into the only thing that would keep you standing - his body. Instinctively, you gripped onto his shirt tightly so you didn't fall, tugging it towards you. He didn't hesitate to wrap his strong arms around your waist to steady you. Only after the wave had passed did you realize what you'd done, quickly releasing the fabric from your hands. But he didn't let go.

"Are you okay?" He asked, worry in his tone.

You nodded, heart pounding loudly in your ears. However, you were shaking slightly.

He began leading you back towards the shore, not convinced. Stumbling onto the hot sand, he guided you back to the towels, sitting you down once you got there. Getting a smaller towel, he wrapped it around you so you could dry off, then he sat down next to you.

You looked at him, embarrassed. "You can go back if you want, I'll be fine here."

"No, I'm good." He leaned back a bit. "I'm not much of a swimmer anyways."

He then lifted his arm and ran his fingers through his damp hair, brushing it back off his forehead. You gulped, incredibly bothered by the motion.

He looked at you with a slight smirk. "Thirsty?"

"Yeah." You replied.

Smirk widening, he handed you an unopened water bottle. You drank, trying desperately to calm down.

Jamie ran up to you, Mark following close behind. "Y/n are you okay?" She asked, confused and concerned. "What happened?"

You explained without including the details that made you blush when you thought of them. She sat on the towel next to you, deciding not to go back out. Mark followed suit and shortly after Johnny joined you again when he realized everyone was out of the water.

After a bit, you began to get hungry and got up to try and find some food. Luckily, there was a food truck nearby with some cheap lunch. Returning to the towels, you ate in relative silence as the sun moved slowly west overhead. The rest of the afternoon was spent walking, playing with a frisbee, and sunbathing. You noticed Jaehyun seemed to be keeping you within a few feet of him the entire time, never leaving you alone or with the others. Even when you went back out with Jamie into the shallow water, he followed - even though he tried to appear like he wasn't.

.•°•. ♡ .•°•. ♡ .•°•. ♡ .•°•.

Once the sun went down, everything was packed up and taken back to the cars. You threw back on your shorts from earlier before heading to a nearby bar, open to the sea and cool night air. It was already crowded with many tourists, and once you entered you quickly lost sight of the others, later catching a glimpse of Jamie talking to Johnny off to the side with a drink in hand.

Seeing the bar, you made your way over to it by yourself and sat on one of the barstools. You beckoned the bartender over to order your drink.

"What can I get for you?" She asked, polishing a glass.

"A margarita please." you answered.

She then looked at the seat next to you. "And you sir?"

"A margarita for me too, thanks." A familiar voice answered.

You turned around in your seat to face Jaehyun, blinking at him.

He smiled and nodded in greeting, those adorable dimples reappearing on the corners of his mouth. Feeling your face heat up, you quickly turned to look at the bartender as she made your identical drinks.

You cleared your throat a little. "So... you like margaritas too?"

He chuckled softly at your attempt to break the awkwardness. "Truthfully, I've never tried one. Thought tonight was good first time."

You could feel his eyes on you, boring into your soul in an attempt to get your attention. When you couldn't take it any longer and tilted your head to look at him, his eyes immediately met yours. A slight smirk spread across his lips.

When your drinks were served, he was the first to take a sip, eyes not leaving you for a millisecond. You drank and shifted in your seat, fully aware of how he was checking you out as his eyes began to roam. You wondered if maybe you should've put on a shirt over your bikini top to cover yourself better. But that thought was quickly dismissed as a new one took its place. You liked it - the way his attention was focused on no one but you. There were plenty of other hot girls there that night, but he paid them no mind.

The hours drifted by as those around you melted away and it felt like you and Jae were the only two in the entire world. The music and voices of patrons were only a buzz in the distant background as you focused on his soft words. You found you enjoyed each others company - he made you comfortable with the idea of spending as much time in it as possible.

When the clock struck ten, you could feel the beginnings of fatigue creeping into your mind. An incoming text made his phone buzz. He checked it, relaying the message to you after briefly lifting up his eyebrows in surprise.

"Your friend's heading back to the hotel with Johnny and Mark, she's driving them there."

"Oh!" You replied in surprise, glancing around the bar but finding them already gone. You knew what was probably going to happen to Jamie, but you didn't voice it.

He looked at you for about a minute before speaking again, slowly. "Do you.. wanna come to my place?"

You met his eyes again, heart and mind racing at his invitation. The implications of his question didn't slip by you, they were fully realized. Still, it didn't take you long to make up your mind - in fact, you'd already made it before he'd asked.

"Yes." You replied.

He smiled wide and grabbed your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. You quickly slid off your barstool and exited the bar, making for the car. You giggled as he pulled you along. The moon shone down on you from high overhead, lighting the way. Once reaching the car, he opened the passenger door for you and you hopped inside as he then closed it and rounded the car to his seat. Getting in, he started the car and drove out onto the road towards his apartment.

Your mind raced as you made the silent drive to his apartment, listening to the low sounds of the radio coming through the speakers. It only took a few minutes before he was parking, getting out, and coming around to help you out of the car. Grasping your hand tightly again, he lead you into the building. The lobby of his apartment had only dim lights on at this time to illuminate the room. No one was around. Jaehyun took a left after guiding you through the main doors.

"This way." He practically whispered, taking you into the elevator.

He hit the three and the doors closed, leaving you alone in the small space with him for a few moments. He didn't waste any time in turning you around to face him, closing the gap between you. Locking his lips with yours in a heated first kiss, he backed you up into the elevator wall, driving you up it slightly with his strong arms. You instinctively wrapped your limbs around his body to steady yourself and kissed him back. You could taste both him and the drink he'd had at the bar - the mixture was heavenly.

A ding signified your arrival at his floor, forcing you to part. Thankfully for the both of you, his door wasn't too far away. Pulling you down the hall quickly, Jae stopped at his door and took out his keys, fumbling with them for a few seconds as he tried to rush. When the door was unlocked, he pushed it open, letting you both walk through before harshly closing it again.

For the few seconds it took for him to throw the keys on a small table next to the door you glanced around the dark apartment. Through a cracked door to your left you could make out a bathroom. A small kitchen stretched across most of the right wall from the door, a long bar separating it from the rest of the room. In this main room was both his living area and bedroom. His bed was pushed up against the farthest wall, which was taken up entirely by two giant windows. The moonlight shone through them, illuminating a balcony on the other side that looked out into the night and the street below, where palm trees waved back and forth in a light breeze.

The sudden grip of his large hand on your waist from behind made you jump. He spun you around, and gave you that soul piercing stare that made all your self-control fade away. You leaned in this time, seeing a smirk spread across his face right before you closed your eyes. As soon as your lips brushed against his again, he picked up were you'd left off, kissing you relentlessly and leaving you breathless. Slowly, he backed you up further into the apartment until the backs of your legs bumped up against the edge of the bed as you struggled to bring air to your lungs.

He lifted you just enough to clear the mattress and sit you down on top of it. Climbing onto it himself, he gently laid you down onto the sheets underneath him. He kept himself up with his knees, one on each side of you as he started to move his plush lips down to your neck. He proceeded to mark you, painting several dark spots onto your skin that would surely be there the next day.

"Ah, Jae." You moaned out for the first time, when the tenseness that had been building between your legs became too much to stay silent.

He paused. "What is it princess?"

"I need..." You began, heating up at the petname.

"Yes?" He asked patiently, waiting for your commanding words. He smiled down at you, raising a hand to your cheek to stroke it soothingly.

"You." You finished, meeting his gaze. "I need you."

He smiled wider. "Sure thing."

Removing his hand from your face, he moved it down to the waistband of your shorts. Unbuttoning them with both hands, he slipped them off and down your ankles with ease. Placing his strong hand on your upper thigh, he spread it away from the other and began moving his fingers closer to your heat. Shivering at his touch, you sunk deeper into the bedsheets. He let his fingertips get to the edge of your bikini bottoms, but stopped there, teasing you.

"Hey-" You breathed, scolding him when you realized what he was doing.

He looked down at you, hair messily splayed around your head as your chest rose and fell beneath him. Your skin was beginning to glisten with perspiration, your eyelashes fluttering slightly every time you blinked your half-closed eyes. "Hm?"

You took a moment to respond. "Touch me Jae."

He smiled a dark smile as he brushed your bikini bottoms to the side. The first touch of his fingertips against your slick clit had you lifting your hips up off the bed, curses falling from your lips. He forced them back down, pinning you to the bed with his body. He quickly resumed his actions, running his fingers back and forth over your folds as you moaned at the pleasure. He then suddenly inserted a finger into your dripping core.

"Ah-" You gasped in surprise as he continued, using his thumb to trace circles across your clit. It was all too much for you to handle. He watched as you gradually lost control beneath him, writhing about in pleasure. The dangerous combination of things he was doing to you quickly brought your first high like a rising wave that crashed into the beach before it.

You didn't have time to warn him before your walls clamped down on his finger and your juices spilled out onto his hand, sheets, and down your legs. He let you ride out your orgasm and calm all the way down before removing his finger and sitting up, licking every last bit of you from his fingers. You peered down the bed at him, watching in fascination as he lapped it up like a man starved.

"Shit, you taste good." He complimented, making your face feel flushed.

When his hand was clean, he bent down and stuck his head between your legs. A second later, you felt the flick of his tongue on your inner thigh. He left a trail of wet kisses up it, making his way back up to your heat. Without warning, you felt his lips brush against your folds as he proceeded to use his tongue to clean you up as best he could. His hot breath against your pussy made you squirm and draw your legs up closer to your chest. Once satisfied he sat up again, licking the last of you from his lips.

He then repositioned himself above you. Removing his swim trunks, his hard member sprung free and stood erect, precum trickling from its pink tip. Slipping a couple of fingers into the waistband of your bikini bottoms, he pulled then down your legs, leaving them with your shorts at your ankles. Lining up with your entrance, he held himself up with his strong arms, caging you in. You looked up at him, his faded purple hair messy across his face. He gave you a reassuring smile - dimples and all - before pushing into you with ease and rolling his hips down onto yours. Matching the pace he set, you pulled his face back down to yours to kiss him again, softer this time. He complied, kissing you deeper and slower as he pushed further into you with each thrust.

When he bottomed out, he speed up the movement of his hips, gripping yours to bring them closer to his. The lewd sounds of sex filled the apartment, combined with both of your increasingly loud moans.

"Jae." You moaned out, breaking your kisses. You felt the tenseness building in your abdomen again.

He groaned as you felt him twitch inside you. "Fuck, you sound so hot saying my name like that."

He then hit your g-spot with the tip of his cock, pushing you over the edge. You came undone all at once, flexing your walls around him, gasping for air. Seconds later, hot strings of his cum shot through you, spilling out onto the bed along with your own. Riding out your orgasms simultaneously, your heavy breathing gradually quieted until he pulled out and sat up on the bed beside you. Watching him slide off the edge and stand up, your eyes followed him as he made his way to the bathroom entrance, ducking in for a second and returning with a towel.

Climbing back onto the bed, he leaned over you and gently cleaned you up with the towel, being extra careful around your sore clit. When most of it was wiped up, he discarded the towel onto the floor and laid down next to you. You rolled onto your side to look at him in the moonlight.

His skin had a visible sheen to it and his hair was a fucking mess - it stuck partially to his damp skin. But that only made his perfectly sculpted features more beautiful. You felt him wrap his arm around your naked waist, holding you to his body. Brushing a loose strand of hair away from your face, he spoke for the first time in minutes.

"Let's do this again tomorrow."

In your fucked out state, you couldn't respond with much else than an excited nod as you snuggled up to him. He gently kissed your swollen lips, happy.

Brushing your nose with his, he whispered: "Night y/n."

You replied by kissing him back, closing your eyes, and drifting off to sleep in his arms.

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taestefully-in-luv · 3 years ago

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Always You | JJK (Seven)

Summary: you and Jungkook have been best friends since freshmen year of college, there’s a lot of unsaid feelings and tension but neither make a move. what happens when his friend Taehyung (also your crush) needs a fake girlfriend?

Pairing: Jungkook x Female reader

Genre: friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, slight slow burn, roommate au, college au, SMUT (starting ch2), fluff, angst (in later chapters) slight crack, lots of drama

Word Count: 10.1k

Warnings: Swearing, alcohol consumption, sexual tension (!!!), mention of erection, heated make out, marking, grinding, mentions of suicide:( (If this makes you uncomfortable pls skip), mentions of cheating, quick blowjob, swallowing,

Notes: sorry this chapter is shorter than the last! But we only have 2 chapters left guys! And they are long!!! Sorry in advance lol. Hope you guys enjoy this chapter:) Anyway feel free to send an ask if you want to be added to the taglist or just want to chat about the story:)

Taglist: @mooniyooni @thisartemisnevermisses @giadalin @kookiebunny097 @cosmosjk @moonchild1 @just-jeon @anpanman-sonyeondan @starlight-night0 @yessii-i @apollukee @mikasaredscarf1 @kaye-rosales @bunnyjeonjk @dyriddle @seagulljk @hass-mich-los @peachy-skz0325 @wonusbitch @not-your-lion @flowersgirl02 @justinetingball @fiantomartell

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Jungkook runs his finger through your hair, his mouth hot on your neck as he leaves behind what feels like a million, slow kisses. You taste sweet and he’s reminded of the first time he got to do this with you and his heart swells at the memory. He feels you grind against him, making him impossibly harder as he grinds back. Your moans fill his ears and it sounds like a chorus of sweet, sweet music to him, he can’t help but grin into his kisses. Suddenly, the image of him kissing down your throat becomes blurry and the sound of your whines echo in the distance. He must be waking up.

Jungkook feels you hovering over him with shocked eyes and he can’t help but wonder what’s gotten into you. He can feel his head beginning to throb from the inevitable hang over that wishes to visit and he raises a hand over it. You continue to look down at him and that’s when he notices it. Them. The hickeys that spread across your skin and he goes absolutely pale.

He looks back at you with wide eyes but he can’t help but feel pride bloom all throughout his body as he looks at how he has marked you but those petals quickly shrivel up when he realizes how badly he must have messed up.

“Oh fuck.” He says under his breath.

“Yeah. ‘Oh fuck’” you repeat back.

Jungkook lifts himself up, leaning on his arms as he takes another look at the bruises that cover your skin. He releases a shaky breath contemplating what to say.

“Drunk.” His eyes slide to the side, “We were really…drunk.”

You narrow your eyes for a split second then look at him with ease,

“Yeah…right…drunk.” You quickly agree.

Jungkook and you share a moment of a silence, admiring one another’s work on the other. You hesitantly reach out, your fingers coming in contact with the side of his neck, brushing against his soft skin.

“This ones huge…I’m sorry.” You say, not sounding entirely sorry. A slight smirk graces your features.

“Ha, you don’t look very sorry.” Jungkook grabs a hold of your hand, “Plus, you don’t even want to see what I did to you.”

You retreat your hand back to touch your own skin, you shuffle out of the sheets and stand from the bed. You walk towards the little mirror over by Jungkook’s closet and take a look.

You audibly gasp, the purple marks that spread across your neck and collarbone are ones for the books.

“What the hell Jeon! How am I supposed to walk out of here today! Everyone’s going to see this!” you gesture towards yourself. “Oh my god.” You turn back to look in the mirror. “This is horrible.”

Jungkook leaves the bed to join you at the mirror,

“Holy shit.” He looks at himself, “I’m not any better!” he throws his hands up but he’s laughing. He’s fucking laughing! You watch in disbelief as he chuckles the fucking day away.

You watch him and you can’t help but start to laugh too. This is just so ridiculous.

“Wait wait…” Jungkook calms down, suddenly becoming serious. “We didn’t do anything else…right?”

“Why are you looking at me like that? Shouldn’t you also remember?”

“You’re the girl! Can’t you like tell…if we…” He motions his hands between your bodies.

“Oh my god. No, we didn’t do anything else. Do you really not remember everything?” you ask with a frown.

“I feel like I do…but I was just being you know, sure.”

Jungkook wishes he could remember everything in great detail but the reality is he was really drunk and some moments are hazier than others. Which is a fucking shame because he wants to remember the first moment you caressed his skin to his lips on yours.

“Do you remember everything?”

“I remember enough.” You admit.

You were drunk, yes. But the memory of you and Jungkook is almost crystal clear and fresh in your mind.

“Bottom line is…we were really drunk and drunk people do stuff like that all the time.” Your hands go to your hips, “I mean, I’ve literally made out with Trina before. Don’t feel special.” You wink, your tone is light and teasing and Jungkook finds you amusing.

“Just two drunk idiots.” Jungkook grins. “So no acting weird.”

“I won’t be weird, will you?”

“I’ll try my best.” He chuckles.

“I’m serious Jungkook, we can be cool about this…” you give him a smile, “It’s not like we haven’t—”

“Stop…” Jungkook lifts his hand up, “I get it.” He chuckles awkwardly.

Your small smile fades, your heart pinches. He never wants to talk about it, did he hate it that much?

“Right…” You begin walking closer towards him and he steps back, your heart pinching once again. “Well, lend me a fucking turtle neck or something so I can get outta here.”

Jungkook smirks down at you as he walks to his closet.

“Fine. Hopefully I have two…I have a black and a white one right?” he asks you from inside his closet.

“Shit, I think I have your white one at my place…”

“I don’t think Nick owns any…”

“Why do you need one? Just stay home today.”

“I’m supposed to meet Vanessa later…”

Your heart doesn’t just pinch this time, it sinks. Deep down into your lower belly until its falling to the ground.

“Oh.”

“I’ll find a scarf or some shit.”

“I’ll bring you your white one, don’t worry.”

“Really? Thanks y/n.” Jungkook walks out of his closet smiling at you, his black turtle neck draped over his arm. “Here.” He hands it over to you.

“Turn around.”

Jungkook raises a brow at you until realization hits him.

“Okay.” He whispers out.

You quickly change into the long sleeve shirt and let Jungkook know he can turn back around.

“I feel like I should make you breakfast or something…” Jungkook scratches the back of his neck, standing here awkwardly.

“Really Jungkook?” you laugh out, “And what would you make me?”

“I think Nick has some toaster waffles.” Jungkook offers with a grin.

“I’m good. I’m gonna head out but I will be back with your shirt!”

“Sounds good, I’ll walk you out.”

You two nod at one another, exiting the bedroom and walking towards the front door. You stop to say goodbye and Jungkook steps into your space, wrapping his arms around you.

“See you in a bit.” He whispers.

“Yeah.” You pull back and smile at him. “See you in a bit.”

~~~~~

“Why the fuck are you wearing a black turtle neck in the middle of August?”

It’s Trina, if you haven’t guessed. It’s the first thing you hear when you step into your apartment, she is over to hang with Holly you’re assuming.

“I was a bit chilly.” You lie through your teeth, giving her a strained smile.

“Take it off.” Trina commands.

“Trina…” Holly warns softly, she’s got her hand on Trina’s shoulder and you can’t help but giggle.

“Wait, your date was last night, right? With this ‘Min Yoongi’? Ooooh, did things go well?” Trina whistles out.

“It wasn’t a date, I already told you…” you whine as you walk into the living room, sitting on the sofa.

“But it did go well! I had a really nice time.” You admit softly, smiling at the memory of your ‘thank you outing’. “He’s so cool and so sweet.” Your eyes light up, “He owns the record shop a few shops away from the bakery!”

“Owns it? Like it’s his?” Holly asks, she shares a pleased smile with Trina.

“Yes, like it’s his.”

“He sounds like a man. Marry him.” Trina gives you an aggresive thumbs up.

“Chill dude.” You laugh. “I think he and I could become really good friends…and…”

“And?”

“Well, you never know.” Your eyes shift to the side as you smirk. “The world is full of mystery.”

Trina smiles brightly, “So you’re saying there’s a chance?”

“I’m saying that there’s not not a chance…”

“I’LL TAKE IT!” Trina lifts up Holly’s hand and high fives herself with it. “Whatever isn’t Jungkook.” She finishes with a grin and you feel your whole body go stiff.

“Trina…” you frown, “I really don’t like when you say stuff like that. Jungkook is a good person. He just…he messed up, yes. But he’s trying.”

“He hurt you.” Trina’s tone goes serious. “How could you forgive him for that?”

“I’m trying too. But I am able to try because I know him…he wouldn’t just hurt me without him having his own reasons…and I love him, T. Like as friends, of course but also…”

“I know.” Trina goes soft, “I know.”

Holly clasps her hands together, “And that’s that! How about we make some food and chit chat some more over some mimosas!”

“I love that idea.” You say.

“But seriously girl, please go change out of that turtle neck…you’re making me sweat just looking at you.” Trina says.

Right, the turtle neck. You told Jungkook you would drop off his white one…well, you gotta find it first.

“Okay, but I have to run an errand first then we can hang.”

“An errand?” Both girls look at you quizzically.

“Don’t worry about it.” Great, now you sound like Jungkook.

~~~~~

Within the hour you are quickly dropping off Jungkook’s shirt off at his place and going back to yours. He answered the door in nothing but his towel again and you tried so hard not to drool. You recall the night before when your fingers were dragging down his chest and his toned stomach. You felt every ab beneath your fingertips. Fuck, that felt good. You’re home now, you shake your head trying to rid yourself of thoughts of Jungkook’s body. But with a body like that? It’s so so hard. Just like how he was…STOP. You shake off these thoughts and try to pay attention to what Holly is saying.

“—And then I turned it in anyway and still got an A!”

“That’s amazing Holly.” You say, trying to act like you weren’t just having impure thoughts.

“Yeah, you totally kick ass.” Trina says.

You girls are a few mimosas in, you feel the champagne starting to work its wonderful magic on you but unfortunately it is making you start to sweat. You want to take off this damn turtleneck.

“I’ll be right back.” You say quickly before retreating to your bedroom. You find a baggy t-shirt and slip it on. This feels much better! But god damn. These marks on your skin are something else. You rush to the bathroom and try to cover some with makeup but it’s hardly helping. Fuck.

“Welp, maybe they won’t notice.” You whisper to yourself.

You walk back out into the living room and you notice both Holly and Trina’s eyes go comically wide.

“Wow, that date did go better than you thought!” Trina starts whooping and hollering.

“Wow y/n.” Holly really does look shocked.

Okay, so maybe they did notice. You feel so self conscious all of the sudden, your hands flying up to your neck to cover yourself.

“It’s—It’s not what it looks like.” You stammer out.

“It looks like this Yoongi guy is really into marking!” Trina yells out with a grin.

“Yoongi is really into marking…” Holly eyes you with horror in her eyes.

“Yoongi! Yoongi! Yoongi!” Trina begins chanting, she looks over at Holly and lightly taps her thigh to get her to start chanting the name as well.

“Guys…” You whine into your hands, “It wasn’t Yoongi.” You must be admitting that because you’ve had a few mimosas.

Silence. The room falls undeniably quiet.

“Wait what?” Trina asks, her wide grin beginning to fade.

“Did you meet with someone else last night?” Holly begins to pry.

“Did you go to a bar or something and meet a rando?”

“Did you bump into someone on the street?”

“Did you call up and old boyfriend? An old hookup?”

“Guys!” You yell out, “I met up with Jungkook last night!”

Once again, the room goes silent.

“You what?” Trina asks plainly, “What does that have to do with the hickeys on your neck?”

“Really Trina?” your head falls into your hands, “We kind of…”

“You guys fucked? Really?” Trina’s serious tone is back.

“No! We just got really drunk and made out! That’s it!”

“But is that really it for you?” To your surprise, it’s Holly who asks this.

“It’s fine. We were just drunk. We decided not to be weird about it. And we won’t.”

“How can you be sure of that?” Trina asks, her voice gone soft.

“Because I will text him in a few days, he’s going to text back. Or I’ll call and he will answer like normal. I’ll ask to hang out or something and we will just be two friends who hang. It will go just like that!”

Except it doesn’t go like that at all. A few days pass and you decided to text Jungkook in the morning after you woke up. You don’t expect to hear back from him for a couple of hours since he will probably sleep in. But hours and hours go by and it’s the afternoon now and you still haven’t heard from him.

“You have reached the voicemail box of…” You click the end button on your phone again for like, the 6thtime. Why isn’t Jungkook answering? It’s a Wednesday afternoon, you know you remember him saying he had today off for some reason so what is he up to? Even if he was with Vanessa, would he really ignore you like this? 6 calls in a row?

You decide to try Jimin, maybe they’re together. You look him up in your ‘Favorites’ and click clack away to calling him. After several rings the boy finally answers,

“Hey.” He says somewhat out of breath, “I’m working, what’s up?”

“Hey it’s nothing really…” you begin, “But have you heard from Jungkook…? I can’t get a hold of him…”

“Huh? No? Maybe he’s just, I don’t know, busy babe.” You can hear Jimin directing some poor child of his wrong moves on the other side of the phone.

“Look, I gotta go. But just try again in a little while, okay?”

“Can you try calling him for me?”

“Huh? Uh, sure. I’ll let you know later. Love you, bye.” Jimin hangs up and you’re left with your phone to your ear, talking to no one.

It’s Wednesday evening now, you and Holly are sharing a pie while watching some weird show on Netflix that Holly insists is good. You’re three episodes in and you’re starting to wonder when the ‘good’ part happens. It’s mostly just been weird but Holly seems invested in it. You’re trying to keep your mind busy, the thought of Jungkook making you feel antsy. You just wanted to call and see if he wanted to chill together…to prove things aren’t going to be weird between you two. Is he really going to be so fucking immature? Big deal, you made out. But to go this far to ignore you? You can’t help but feel so fucking anxious. He won’t ghost you again right?

You mindlessly stick your fork in the pie repeatedly when you feel your phone buzz. Thank God, some sort of reason to look away from this show, you think.

Jimin 6:22pm

Hey, I got a hold of Jungkook…

What the hell? So he answered to Jimin?!

Jimin 6:22pm

It’s probably best to let him be today babe, today is…not a good day

You click off your phone and throw it on the cushion to your side because what the hell does that mean? Not a good day? If he’s not having a good day then shouldn’t he like, lean on you? Wait, you’re asking for too much right? You mean, you’re the one who set boundaries. But if he’s having a bad day why ignore you? You throw the fork in the pie and set it next to Holly, she looks at you mortified that you would just throw your fucking fork. You stand to your feet and start heading to your room.

“Uh, where are you going? Things are just getting good.” Holly whines.

“I’ll be back in a little while Hol, just gotta do something real quick.” You call out from behind you, entering your room to change into some clean clothes.

Once you’re ready you grab your purse and your keys and head towards the front door, and out to your car.

It’s a really quick drive to Jungkook’s apartment, he lives so close to you it’s ridiculous. He couldn’t find an apartment that was further away from his old one? Well, still…you’re grateful it’s a short drive. You wonder how you’ll confront Jungkook. He isn’t the best at opening up so you have to go about this strategically. But knowing you, you’ll be anything but strategic. It’s just with Jungkook you really have to force it out of him—whatever it is. Even then you may get nothing.

You find a parking spot a little a ways from the building, it’s a nice refreshing two minute walk to get inside to find and ride the elevator. You remember riding this elevator with nick and oh god, cringe. You cringe so fucking hard. Speak of the devil, he’s who answers the front door after your insistent knocking.

“Oh hey y/n. What’s up?” Nick’s eyes dart from you to the rest of the hallway. “Is it just you?” he asks, “Jungkook isn’t here…”

“Can I wait inside until he gets home?” you blurt out.

“Uh, sure…” Nick opens the door wider for you to enter. You breeze past him, taking off your shoes at the entrance and make your way to the couch. Damn, you are a woman on a mission.

“Can I get you some water?” Nick offers as he closes the door.

“Sure.”

Nick comes into the living room with a glass full of water and you couldn’t be more grateful. You didn’t even realize how dry your mouth has gotten, the anticipation of Jungkook’s arrival making you nervous.

“Do you know where he went?” you take the glass from Nick and gulp down like half the glass. “He hasn’t answered me all day.”

“Wait, he doesn’t know you’re here?” Nick asks in panicked surprise. “Should you really be here? He might be with Vanessa or like, coming back with her…”

“It’s fine. I’m waiting, is that okay?” you nibble on your lips, waiting for his response.

“Yeah, I guess.” Nick shrugs, “I’ll be in my room if that’s okay? You can watch whatever on TV or like, whatever.” He smiles at you, gesturing towards the TV.

“I’ll be fine Nick.” You smile back.

More than an hour passes, a god damn miserable hour of you sitting on Jungkook and Nicks couch when you finally hear the front door being unlocked. Jungkook.

You straighten up when you hear the door beginning to open, the soft creak sounding a million times louder in your ears.

Jungkook walks through and you notice he is alone, and you sigh in relief. His shoulders are slumped and his head hangs low as he takes his shoes off and you immediately sink in your spot. What’s with him? So, you stand to your feet and clear your throat and he doesn’t even flinch. He just continues walking inside, finding his way into the kitchen. You watch as he opens up a cabinet and reaches for a glass, next he’s fishing the fridge for some fresh water and filling up his cup. He takes a few sips of his water before his dark eyes find you.

“What are you doing here?” his low voice sends a shiver down your spine.

“You went ghost on me today…I was worried.” You leave the living room to walk into the kitchen as well.

“I…” he begins as he sets the glass on the counter. “I didn’t ghost you.”

“How could I be so sure?” you step closer to him, “How come you answered Jimin but not me?”

Jungkook’s eyes widen at your words, like a deer caught in headlights. He blinks at you repeatedly until he tries forming words.

“It’s nothing personal.” He settles for. “Can we talk tomorrow, y/n?”

“Where did you go today?” God, why do you sound like some weird, possessive girlfriend? You cringe at your own words.

“It doesn’t matter.” Jungkook’s eyes darken again, his voice low.

“It matters to me.”

Jungkook looks down at the floor and you notice him take a few deep breaths, like he is struggling to find a steady one.

“Talk to me, Jungkook.” You reach out to him, your fingers finding his and he flinches at your touch. “What’s wrong? Please talk to me.”

“I….” Jungkook’s voice cracks and you wish you could bring him in to hug you but you don’t. You just let him continue.

“I…have nothing to say.”

Oh. Of course. Of fucking course. Of course Jungkook chooses to stay silent. Of course he chooses not to talk to you.

“Is it Vanessa?” you finally find the courage to ask, “Did you two break—”

“No, we’re fine.” He cuts in. Jungkook frees himself from your hand and looks up at you with a strained smile, “I’m fine, y/n.”

Now, you shouldn’t feel upset. Or angry. But you do, you fucking do. It’s been almost 4 years of this same bullshit where he cannot open up to you and its starting to feel insulting.

“You’re…” you step closer to him again but he takes a step back until he’s backed into the counter. “You aren’t fine. Please talk to me, Jungkook.” You try to say calmly but you think the rage is a little evident in your voice.

“Nothing to talk about.”

“Is it because I’m a girl?”

Jungkook tilts his head to the side, not knowing what you mean by that. Yeah, that was a stupid thing to assume but you aren’t smart right now.

“You can’t confide in girls because you have trust issues? You know, because of your mom…how she left you…”

“Stop.”

“That’s it right?” You volume increases as your anger shows, “Are you fucking serious? When have I ever made you feel like you couldn’t trust me? When have I ever fucking left you?”

“Shut up.”

“No! And yeah your mom left you so you like, don’t trust girls I guess but god damn, Jungkook maybe it’s time to get over—”

“I said shut up!” Jungkook’s voice rises to a volume you have never experienced with him before.

“Have you tried looking for her?” you continue to speak, not realizing you are making everything worse.

“I know where she is.” He states, his nostrils flaring.

You flail your arms around, “Then go fucking talk to her.”

Jungkook looks at you with an unreadable expression, his shoulders to his ears and his fists balled up at his sides. He’s quiet. Too quiet. His breaths are beyond shaky and you finally notice it.

Jungkook’s eyes are glossed over and you think you may have gone too far. His lip begins trembling and he tries to speak but no words come out. He struggles to speak to you and it makes you blink at him like an idiot. Why can’t he speak?

“Jung—”

Jungkook lifts a hand up to stop you from talking any further. He inhales sharp breaths and releases shaky ones. His eyes are full of tears but none fall. He stares down at the ground just trying to do something as easy as breathing, but he falls short.

“Jung—”

“Please.” He croaks out. Jungkook walks to the couch and sits down, his head falling into his hands and you aren’t entirely sure at first but after a few moments you really realize…he is softly and quietly crying. Your Jungkook who never cries in front of anyone is sitting on his living room couch crying. You’re speechless. You also don’t know what to do. Do you try to comfort him? Do you leave him alone? But how could you leave him alone when he sits on his fucking living room couch sniffling away?

You hesitantly walk towards the sofa and take a seat next to him. He doesn’t lift his head to look at you, just continues crying into his hands. You don’t have to think about it, you reach your hand to rub soothing circles on his back and start whispering words of comfort in his ear.

Several moments pass when Jungkook finally lifts his head from his hands, but he still doesn’t look at you.

“Mom…” he clears his throat. “Mom didn’t just leave us. She left everything. She left me.”

“I know Jungkook…I’m sorry… I just lashed out on you, you can heal at your own pace and if she wants to see you again, she will.” You continue to rub his back.

“No, you don’t get it.” Jungkook murmurs. “Mom was hurting a lot. You know?” he begins to get choked up, his throat burning.

“Dad cheated, yes. But he was also neglectful of her and she was in a lot of pain,” he sniffs repeatedly, wiping his nose on his sleeve.

“She felt like she had no one, not even me.” Jungkook face scrunches up as he resists more tears.

“She couldn’t even rely on me.”

Fuck. You know where this is going. It is all starting to make sense.

“Mom killed herself when I was 16.” Jungkook finally says, his voice barely above a whisper, like he was too afraid to say it out loud. Like it made it more real.

“Dad didn’t take it well…he started drinking and I rarely saw him around…I had to take care of myself.” Jungkook finally lets the tears fall.

“I hated him. I still do.” Jungkook clenches his jaw.

You sit on the couch unable to comprehend what Jungkook has gone through. You feel like the biggest bitch alive. You forced your best friend to reopen his wounds in front of you and you had the audacity to pour salt in them.

“Jungkook I’m so—”

“Forget it.” He’s quick to cut you off. You stare at him with wide eyes, your own tears staining your cheeks.

“Please leave me alone for a while.” He whispers and immediately you stop him from rising from the couch.

“No!” you pull him back down. He doesn’t even resist, he falls back to your side and you lead his head to rest on your beating chest.

“I’m here for you, Jungkook.”

And that’s it. That’s what it took for Jungkook to scrunch and twist his face until more tears begin flowing out of his swollen eyes. He cries into your shirt, wetting the material.

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” You pat his head, your fingers weaving through his dark locks.

Jungkook cries like this for several minutes, until he’s wiping away his tears and snot with his shirt sleeve. He rises from your chest and looks at you with a painful expression.

“Today is mom’s birthday.” He admits.

Fuck.

“I went to her grave today…” he sniffles, “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you before. It’s just…” he starts crying again, “Saying it out loud. Makes it real, don’t you think?” His face is swollen and puffy from his tears and you can’t stop your own tears from sliding down your cheeks.

“Jungkook, I’m so, so sorry.” You feel awful. You can’t even fathom what he has gone through…

“It’s okay, this was bound to happen eventually right?” he laughs awkwardly, snot still dripping from his nose.

“I shouldn’t have forced it out of you…God, I am so sorry.”

“I…” Jungkook’s eyes refill with tears as he tries to speak again, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before, I really am. I tried so many times but I just couldn’t say it out loud. I just couldn’t.” The tears fall down his face once again, “I tried.” He begins to cry harder. “I really tried y/n.”

You heart breaks. This is a sight you never want to see again but if anyone has to see it you want it to be you.

“Baby…” you whisper. “I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

“You’d never leave me…right?” Jungkook chokes on his words as he speaks. “I couldn’t handle it.”

You shut your eyes as you think about what Jungkook has gone through. You think about why he’s been so closed off and why he has troubles with people sometimes—especially girls.

“I wouldn’t ever leave you.” You say in promise. “You’re too important to me.”

Jungkook’s face falls back into your chest, he cries into your shirt for several more minutes as you rub his back and play with his hair.

“Wasn’t I important to mom too?” You hear him whisper.

Your heart breaks even more.

“Of course you were, Jungkook.” You try to save, “I know she must have loved you a lot.”

“Then why?”

“She must of thought you were going to be strong enough without her…” Your fingers thread through his hair again, “And you are. But you know, you aren’t completely without her…” Your hand goes to his chest, over his beating heart.

“She’s here too, with you.”

And with that, Jungkook sobs harder. Like, it’s the first time he’s cried over this. And you wonder if it is. He’s gripping on to your shirt so tightly as he releases intense sob after the other. Your heart continues to fucking break.

“I’m here. I’m here.”

It’s been quiet the last 30 minutes, neither you nor Jungkook have spoken. He’s not even crying anymore, just lightly sniffling every now and then. You wonder if he has fallen asleep. You wouldn’t be surprised, all that crying will take out all the energy out of a person…

You lean your head down to get a look at Jungkook’s peaceful face…he is sleeping. You feel yourself relax as you continue to play with his hair. He needs the rest, you think.

You feel your own eye lids getting heavy and you let yourself fall asleep as well. Jungkook snuggles deeper into your side, his face nuzzling in your chest and you hold him tighter. You two sleep like this for many hours until you’re being woken up at the sound of the blender going.

The living room is lit up with sunlight and your eyes blink lazily. You realize Jungkook isn’t sleeping with you anymore and you start to panic. Where did he go? Then the blender goes off again and you decide to stand from the couch, even though your body feels so heavy.

Jungkook is in the kitchen when you walk over, he’s got his back turned to you and you creep up behind him.

“Boo.” You say, wrapping your arms around him.

“When will you realize that will never work on me?” Jungkook lightly chuckles, “Sorry to wake you up. I figure I could make us some fruit smoothies.” He turns around in your hold. You eye him up and notice how puffy his eyes are and you feel your heart drop.

“Fruit smoothie sounds delicious.” You squeeze him tighter and Jungkook laughs a wonderful laugh. It’s loud and full and filled with joy.

“Hug me back.”

Jungkook smiles down at you and circles his arms around your waist, “Sorry, sorry.”

You smile back up at him and lean your head on his body, he feels so warm it could melt you.

“About last night…” Jungkook begins pulling away from you, “I’m sorry I kind of…”

“You don’t have to apologize.” You cut in. “It’s my fault.”

“No y/n…I’m glad things happened the way they did. I actually feel so much better.” He admits, “Lighter, even.”

“Oh? Well, good. But I am still so fucking sorry.”

“It’s okay baby.” He goes back in to hug you tighter. You feel his strong arms hold on to you and you want to stay like this forever. You would if you could. But—

“Shit. What time is it?” You step back from him, digging in your pocket for your phone. “Holy hell, I’m going to be late for work.”

“Then get going. I’ll text you later?” Jungkook asks with hope filling his eyes.

“Yeah.” You smile.

~~~~~~

Work was lame as usual, nothing eventful happened. Yoongi must have been too busy at the shop today since he didn’t come in for cookies. You decide you will go see him at the record shop tomorrow but for now…you’re dealing with something else—someone else.

“Oh? You thought Trina wouldn’t tell me?” It’s Jimin. He’s sitting on the edge of your bed with a popsicle between his lips. “Huh Miss Hickeys?”

“Jimin.” You drag his name out, “It’s not a big deal!” you throw your hands up in exasperation. “We were just really drunk and it didn’t mean anything. Just two drunk idiots.”

“Idiots, for sure.” Jimin sucks on the tip of the popsicle while he speaks.

“Seriously, it isn’t a big deal. We’re both over it.”

“Are you? You like him and he…fuck, this is getting so ridiculous. Promise me, just promise me…you will tell him the truth? You might be sur—”

“Jimin, stop.”

Jimin huffs out a deep, long breath and rolls his eyes at you.

“No.” he says matter of fact. “I won’t stop until you two talk.”

“Anyway there’s something more important we need to talk about…” you begin, “He told me about his mom.”

Jimin’s expression goes from shocked to guilty. He takes a few moments to finish the popsicle, biting the last inch or two and throwing the stick in the trashcan.

“I know. He told me.”

“Oh.”

“He’s been wanting to tell you for a long time y/n…but he just—”

“I know. It must have been really hard for him…all this time…”

“Yeah.” Jimin bows his head, “Me and Tae are the only ones who know because we were friends with him when it happened. That’s the only reason why or else I’m not sure anyone would know.”

“Is that…is that Jungkook’s secret? That you three…”

Jimin’s eyes expand as he realizes what you are talking about.

“N-No.” He admits softly, “That’s something else. That’s something Jungkook will definitely have to tell you on his own and trust me if you guys just talked…”

You tilt your head in confusion. What’s the correlation?

“Anyway, Jimin has Jungkook ever cried to you? About it all?” you ask, curiosity getting the best of you.

“He didn’t even cry at the funeral y/n.”

Fuck. You had a feeling. But knowing for sure is a whole other thing. The way Jungkook broke down in front of you felt like it was his first time and maybe it was and that makes your heart ache.

“Did he…cry? In front of you?” Jimin asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah…”

“Oh… he must really trust you.”

You only nod your head in response.

“If you guys just learned to communicate better…I’m really rooting for you two.”

Your heart swells at Jimin’s little confession and you nod your head again, this time with tears pricking at the corner of your eyes.

“Thanks Jimin.” Finally, you feel supported. And it makes you breathe just a little easier.

“I know things haven’t always been easy with you two ever since the Tae thing…but honestly this goes back even further. Doesn’t it?”

“Yeah. We…I don’t know what’s with us.” You chuckle bitterly.

“I do. And I am going to force you two to talk one of these days. I swear on it. I will give you guys some time but damn babe, this is just…” Jimin releases a long breath. “Just don’t give up, okay?”

“Can’t you just tell me?” you don’t mean to sound like you are begging but you kind of do.

“No. It’s truly truly not my place.”

“I can’t just assume what you are talking about, you know? I can’t hope for the best then get crushed. That’s too scary, Jimin.”

“I understand babe.” Jimin scoots closer to you until he’s within arms-reach and caresses your calve. “Just talk to him, please.”

“Too scary.”

“One of these days one of you will have the courage.”

~~~~~~

“And what could be in this little baggy of yours?” Yoongi grins, showing his wonderful gummy smile.

“I brought you 2 cookies Mister Oatmeal Raisin!” You shake the little bag in front of his face in a teasing manner and he chuckles.

“What did I do to deserve your kindness?” He takes the baggy from you and inspects both cookies. “You decided not to be bratty today?” he questions with a smile. “These cookies are perfect.”

You decided to visit the record shop today, on this fine afternoon. It’s one of those days where it’s cloudy and looks like it could rain but it never does. You love days like that.

“This place looks so nice!” you say, bobbing your head around to get a proper look.

“There’s a section where you can sit and drink coffee…it’s not much but its cozy. Wanna check it out?” Yoongi offers, gesturing towards the other side of the shop.

“Yeah.” You say, “Lead the way.”

He guides you to the other side of the shop next to a window. There’s a table for two and he’s right—it is cozy looking.

You sit down and wait for Yoongi as he fetches two coffees, which you are so excited about since you have a fucking addiction.

He sets a cup down in front of you and takes his seat.

“So any new happy moments in life? Anything new to be grateful for?”

“I—”

“That’s a trick question,” Yoongi’s eyes go small as he smiles widely, “There’s always new moments to be grateful for.”

You can’t help but laugh, you bring the steaming hot coffee to your mouth and you blow on the liquid multiple times before bringing it to your lips and taking a sip.

“Yes I guess so.” You smile.

“And what are they?”

“I’m grateful the sun is hiding today, I like the clouds a lot.”

“I love that.” Yoongi takes a sip of his own coffee. “What else?”

“I’m happy you brought me coffee.”

“I’m glad I somehow made it on your list of things.”

“What about you?” you ask.

“I’m grateful my A.C is working again!” he laughs, “It was actually broken for a couple days and I had like 5 fans plugged in around the place. I don’t think anyone wanted to come in here.”

“Oh no! Well, I’m glad it’s working!”

“How are things with your friend Jungkook? You guys were complicated last time I checked.”

You raise your brows in surprise that Yoongi would bring up Jungkook. But somehow you also aren’t surprised, it seems Yoongi takes a genuine interest in your life.

“We’re actually doing okay…” You bring the coffee back to your lips, taking another sip when—

“Have you told him your feelings yet?” Yoongi casually takes a gulp of coffee as you choke on yours.

“Excuse me?”

“Sorry…was that too forward?” Yoongi sets his cup down. “To be fair, you both are very obvious.

“What do you means us ‘both’?” You grab a napkin and wipe your chin where coffee dribbled.

“He clearly likes you too.” Yoongi stares at you as you stare back with a blank expression, and he laughs. “You two remind me of myself and someone I used to know.”

“Used to?”

“We were never on the same page…too many missed opportunities that it ruined anything we could have had.” Yoongi frowns for a split second before breaking out into a soft, gummy smile. “I’d hate to see that happen to you.”

“Yoongi—”

“But if it does then better for me?” he whispers with a smile in his voice.

“What do you mean by—”

“Oh. But he has a girlfriend, right?” Yoongi cuts you off with his question.

“Not exactly but basically…”

Vanessa. Your stomach drops at the mention of her and you hate it. Why does she have to have such a strong affect on you? Why does she even have to exist? You mean, she can exist but maybe not in your life—or Jungkook’s life.

Suddenly, the doors bell goes off with a ding and Yoongi is smiling brightly at whoever just walked in. You continue to sip your coffee not giving it much mind.

“Taehyung!” Yoongi shouts out, standing from his chair to wave over his friend.

Wait, Taehyung? He can’t mean the same Taehyung—

“y/n?”

Oh shit. You turn around in your seat and your face falls when you see him. Even on this cloudy day his skin is so golden like the sun is shining down on him, he looks bright and beautiful. As usual.

“Hi Taehyung.” You wave awkwardly. He can immediately tell how uncomfortable you are, his face deepening into a frown.

“I can come by later…” he offers to you.

“No, no. Don’t be ridiculous.” You try smiling but it’s quite tense.

Yoongi looks between you two and he points between your bodies.

“You two know each other?”

“We went to school together, had mutual friends blah blah blah.” You say.

Taehyung only agrees with the nod of his head. Yoongi blinks at your two and opens his mouth to say ‘Ah.’ And heads to the back for another cup of coffee.

“How have you been y/n?” Taehyung asks awkwardly, he shifts from one foot to the other as he stands here.

“Pretty good, I think.”

“You think?” he chuckles. “Hey, sorry if my texts bother you…”

“They don’t.” you say honestly. “Sorry I don’t always reply.”

“It’s okay, I understand. How’s…Jungkook?” Taehyung eyes shoot down to the floor. “He doesn’t answer my texts either. It really hurts to see years of friendship go down the drain…”

“He’s mad at you Tae,” You begin, “But I think one of these days he will chill out.” You laugh and this makes Taehyung ease up.

“He really fucking loves you.”

“Well we are best friends… sort of.”

“Sort of?”

“We kind of stopped talking for a little while but we’re back to being friends.” You try explaining but Yoongi is walking back in with a cup of coffee in hand. He hands it to Taehyung, which he accepts gratefully.

“You’re here for that new Jazz mix record, right? I have it behind the counter for you.” Yoongi says to Taehyung and Taehyung only gives him a thumbs up. He eyes you curiously, wondering what the hell happened between you and Jungkook.

“I have to get back to work boys!” You stand from the table, “Thanks for the coffee Yoongs”

Yoongi smiles at the new nickname.

“And maybe I’ll see you around, Tae?”

“Yeah.” Taehyung gives you his signature boxy grins and you feel like maybe things all around are getting better. Just maybe.

~~~~~

Jungkook has his hands knotted in Vanessa’s hair as she chokes on his cock, her lips wrapped around it fully.

“Fuck.” Jungkook whines out, “I’m so close.”

Vanessa only moans in response, she continues to bob her head up and down on his dick making his orgasm approach quickly.

“Gonna come, gonna come.”

And he does, he comes down her throat and she swallows it all perfectly. Only a drop or two left behind on her lips which she quickly wipes away with her fingers.

Vanessa stands to her feet and Jungkook pulls her in for a quick kiss.

“That was good…” he says, somewhat out of breath.

“Glad.” She says smoothly, going in for another kiss. This time she lingers, her lips lasting for a moment longer on his.

Vanessa’s fingers brush against his neck, she traces the outline of one last bruise left on the side below his ear.

“Did you think I wouldn’t notice?” she smiles coyly. “You two sure are weird.” She says flatly.

“Vanessa…”

“It’s fine. I know you know I still see him. It’s not like we agreed to be exclusive.” She taps her skinny fingers on his chest.

“But we are trying aren’t we? To make this work?”

“You aren’t trying very hard, are you?” the amusement in her voice doesn’t go unnoticed by Jungkook.

“He cheated on you, Vanessa. Why are you still seeing him? I thought you said he has a girlfriend now?”

Vanessa pauses her tapping on his chest, her eyes go wide for a second. Like, for a second she wasn’t void of emotion.

“He does.” She says smoothly before she begins tapping her fingers against his chest again.

“He cheated on me with this girl.” She admits, “Little does this bitch know—”

“Is that healthy? Getting revenge?” Jungkook asks, concern lacing his voice.

Vanessa continues to tap her fingers as she narrows her eyes at Jungkook.

“You want to talk to me about what’s healthy?” her empty laugh fills the room.

“I want you to stop.” Jungkook’s hands go to her hips, “Let’s be exclusive, Vanessa.”

“I can’t stop…” she whispers softly, “I can’t let go.”

Jungkook observes Vanessa for a few moments, she looks as vulnerable as she did the first time she talked about her ex with him. He feels sorry for her. He really does want her to move on, for her own sake.

“You can move forward, Vanessa. You have me.”

Vanessa looks into his eyes, studying his serious expression. She can tell he means well but…she doesn’t have him. She never will.

“Please Vanessa, we can make this work.” He begs, yes begs.

Vanessa tilts her head to the side. Oh? This must be his desperation talking, she thinks. His desperation to get over you. She knows this. And she doesn’t hold it against him and instead she decides to help him.

“Okay, let’s make this work.”

~~~~~~~

y/n 8:09pm

On a scale of 1-10 how bad do you wanna watch spirited away right now?

Jungkook 8:15pm

11 girl don’t play

y/n 8:16pm

I thought so, I think this means you need to come over and watch it w meeee

Jungkook 8:20pm

Lemme shower and I’ll be over:)

y/n 8:22pm

Bring beer pllllssss

Jungkook 8:42pm

On my way

y/n 8:45pm

Drive safe bb

It’s around 9pm exactly when you hear soft knocking on the front door. You scurry towards the door and open it, finding Jungkook on the other side. He is wearing your favorite gray puma sweat suit and his hair is wavy and damp. He smiles at you when he sees you eyeing him up and down.

“Like what you see?” he teases.

“Wow, what a classic line Jungkook. Real original.” You scoff, letting the boy through.

Jungkook walks in, setting down a case of beer on the breakfast table.

“I brought our favorite.” He gestures towards the beer on the table. “Let’s drink it while it’s nice and chilly.”

“Agreed. I already have the movie set up.” You point towards the T.V “Ready for our viewing pleasure.”

“Where’s Holly?” Jungkook takes two beers from the case, handing one over to you.

“Her and Trina went out to some bar, I didn’t feel like going.” You take the beer and twist off the cap, Jungkook does the same. You two clank the bottles together in cheers and take a few sips.

“Ah.” You say, the refreshing beer making you feel well, refreshed.

“Because you don’t feel like going to a bar? Or because you would rather hang out with me?” Jungkook smirks, taking another sip of his beer.

“Because I didn’t feel like getting pretty.” You bring the beer to your lips, but you don’t drink from the bottle, just waiting for a response instead.

“You’re always pretty.”

You take a sip of the beer, feeling satisfied with his response. “I know.” You half joke.

“Let’s go to a bar.” Jungkook blurts out.

“W-What?”

“Let’s go in our lounge clothes.” He smiles, “Let’s just do it.”

“No!” you laugh out, “We look like slobs. Well, I do. You look…” your hand motions towards his body, “You know, you look…”

“Are you trying to say I’m hot, y/n?” Jungkook’s sly smile grows as he drinks his beer.

“You know what I mean.” You huff out.

“Well, I think the same of you. So let’s go.”

You can’t help but laugh, you continue to drink your beer back, the liquid settling nicely.

“Okay. Fuck it, let’s do it.” You can’t help but grin, the idea of going to a bar in yoga pants and a t shirt with your sort of best friend sounds so great to you.

“But maybe a little makeup…” Jungkook starts chuckling as you hit his arm with your fist.

“Shut up.”

The bar is mostly pretty casual, maybe not as casual as you and Jungkook but still casual.

Only a small handful of people are actually dressed nicely, but mostly are in jeans and nice shirts. Somehow Jungkook is still the hottest guy here. Even in his sweat suit. You’re surprised you two even got let in, does this place not have some sort of dress code? Guess not.

It’s pretty loud inside, the place has a live band and a decent dance floor. You and Jungkook head towards the bar and take your seats.

The bartender takes a few minutes to reach you two and when she does she automatically nods at Jungkook for his order.

“Two long islands please.” He says, he smirks towards you and you smile back. Long islands? Oh you’re getting drunk drunk tonight.

“You got it.” She smiles at him with all her teeth, and turns around to start mixing the drinks.

“Long islands, huh?” you rest your head in your hand on the bar top.

“I figure neither of us are driving tonight, we might as well go hard.” Jungkook smiles at you. “I’ll buy this first round?”

“Sounds good to me.” You bump fists with Jungkook with a wide smile. “Wanna make a bet?”

“What’s that?” Jungkook quirks a brow at you.

“I bet you $5 that by the end of the night the bartender will hit on you.”

“But I also bet $5 that the bartender will hit on me.” Jungkook pouts.

You stare at him in disbelief at his cockiness and you burst out into giggles.

“Fair enough.” You say between laughs.

The bartender slides two drinks to you and Jungkook, she twists and twirls her hair in her fingers as she asks Jungkook how it tastes. He takes a sip and gives her a thumbs up, you can’t help but snicker.

“Can we also get two tequila shots?” you wave at the bartender. She turns to face you and frowns.

“Sure.” She puts on a fake smile and turns to fill up two shot glasses with tequila. She sets them in front of you a Jungkook and tells you the amount due.

“Tequila shots? Are we trying to fucking die tonight?” Jungkook chuckles from beside you. He grabs two limes and hands you one.

“To us.” You say, lifting your shot in the air.

“To you.” Jungkook whispers as you clank glasses and throw back the shots.

Holy shit, you are fucking wasted. After several tequila shots and a few long islands you and Jungkook are barely holding on. Okay, fine. It’s not that bad. But you guys are really drunk!

His hand hasn’t left your waist for hours, and it feels so fucking nice. It feels perfect. It feels right.

“y/n?” a voice calls out to you. You know this voice, really well in fact.

“Taehyung!” you cheer. You stumble forward and go in for a high five and his drunk ass high fives you back.

“Fancy seeing you again.” You giggle.

Jungkook’s hand grips your waist tighter as he narrows his eyes at Taehyung.

“What do you mean again?” Jungkook asks, his voice low.

“We ran into each other at my friend Yoongi’s” you slur out.

“Hi Jungkookie.” Taehyung awkwardly sways back and forth, his words also slurred. It’s obvious he’s on the same level as drunk as you.

“…Hey.” Jungkook hesitates to respond, he looks between you two. “y/n…is this okay? Talking to him?”

“Hm? Oh? Yeah.” You stare at Jungkook blankly. Why wouldn’t it be, you think.

“Jungkook, maybe we could talk just the two of us?”

You look between the boys and somehow you feel yourself sobering up just a bit.

“Uh. I’ll go to the bathroom.” You say, already walking away.

“You know how sorry I feel.” Taehyung begins, “About everything.”

“What’s everything?” Jungkook mumbles under his breath.

“I’m sorry for what I did to y/n. But I am also sorry for holding your secret over you like that to keep mine.”

“Yeah,” Jungkook slurs out, “That was fucked up.”

“I miss you guys…” Taehyung takes a sip of his drink, “Even Jimin barely talks to me.”

“Shouldn’t have messed with our girl.”

“You mean, your girl.” Taehyung drunkenly corrects Jungkook.

“Whatever.”

“Seriously man, when are you just going to grow the fucking balls?” Taehyung raises his voice just a bit, “It’s clear how you both feel—”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about man, plus I have a girlfriend now—”

“You guys are official now?” You walk up to the boys, cutting in. You feel like maybe he’s just saying that.

“y/n…yeah, we just made it official.” Jungkook admits, running a hand through his hair, sighing out in frustration.

Oh. You feel your heart begin to crumble. They’re dating for real now?

“Do you have feelings for her?” You blurt out.

Jungkook shifts from one foot to another, he breathes in and out in and out. He bites on his bottom lip, thinking of how to respond.

“I don’t know what to say to that.”

Well, at least he’s honest.

“Well, I’m going to head back to my friends…” Taehyung butts in awkwardly. “It was nice seeing you two.” And with that he’s slipping away in the crowd.

“Wanna dance?” you say, trying your best to change the subject. You decide you don’t want to know his answer.

“Sure.” Jungkook smiles at you, he reaches for your hand and you squeeze his tightly. You guide him to the dance floor, the song is a slow one. You two look at one another but there’s nothing awkward about this. He guides your arms to wrap around his neck and his hands circle around your waist, he pulls you in close as you two sway to the music.

“Never go 3 months without me again.” You whisper into his neck.

“W-Why are you bringing that up now?”

“I have to keep my eyes on you, Jungkook. Without my supervision you go off and get yourself a girlfriend.” Your drunken words pierce his heart.

“Is that a problem?” He whispers back. “Yes, a big problem.” You lean back to get a look at his face, he’s already staring down at you, he somehow brings you in even closer.

“Whys that?” He breathes out.

“Want you all for myself.” You admit, drunk words are sober thoughts right?

“You want me baby?” Jungkook leans down until he’s so close, like he cannot control it.

“Yes.” You blink up at him, your lips parted.

The song changes but you two continue to dance like it’s a slow song.

“I bet you $5 that some guy will hit on you in the next couple of minutes.”

You tilt your head and drunkenly giggle, “I highly doubt that.”

Jungkook reaches in his back pocket and hands you a five dollar bill.

“What’s this f—”

“You’re so fucking beautiful” and then his lips are just a mere inch away from yours before he’s pulling back with a look of horror and guilt plastered on his face.

“I—I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s gotten into me. I’m with Vanessa now. I’m just drunk. I’m really drunk. You’re really drunk. We don’t know what we’re doing.” He drunkenly rambles.

You feel your heart sink down into your lower belly, you feel it crack and break into a million pieces. That’s right. Vanessa. He’s making it work with that girl.

“Yeah, it’s okay.”

“You’re my best friend y/n.” Jungkook slurs out, “I’m trying so hard not to ruin that.”

You only nod your head.

“Let’s go home.” You say.

~~~~~~

Your bed is comfy as ever, especially this drunk. Jungkook takes his shirt off and slips into the sheets, settling next to you.

“Wanna cuddle?” he offers.

“I don’t know if Vanessa would like that.” You slur.

“Right.” Jungkook lays on his back, his arms folding beneath his head. “Should I sleep in the living room?”

“No. I want you here.” You admit between soft breaths. “I always want you here.” You yawn out.

“Good.” Jungkook reaches out to hold you, “I don’t think Vanessa will mind if I cuddle my best friend for just five minutes.”

“Five minutes only” you tease. You shuffle closer to him, his warmth escaping his body and clinging to yours.

You two fall asleep like this. Morning comes slowly, like the world is giving you a chance to really appreciate one another’s company. Like the world knows that moments like this are so hard to come by. Like the world knows that you two need this.

When you wake up the next day, its half past noon. You’re still in Jungkook’s arms while he is dead asleep. You nuzzle into his chest and thank the world for giving you this moment. This moment to embrace him like he is yours, a moment to kiss his cheek like he is yours, a moment to whisper you love him like he is yours.

But he isn’t. He isn’t yours and that’s the reality. But you thank the world nonetheless. Because you need these moments to stay sane. But how do you two always end up like this? Can you keep blaming the alcohol? He tried to kiss you last night and that’s also the reality.

Jungkook wanted to kiss you. Can he keep saying it’s just because he’s drunk?

But he’s with Vanessa now and you have to respect that. And you will respect that.

You thank the world though, that right now he’s in your arms, breathing your air, and sharing this moment. Just you and him.

Finally, after another half hour Jungkook begins to stir in his sleep.

You stare at him as he wakes up and his sleepy eyes find yours.

“G’morning.” His voice is low and raspy and you want to swoon.

“Hi.”

“We…” he looks between your bodies. “Didn’t do anything, right?”

You feel your chest tighten, “No, Jungkook.” You answer calmly.

“Okay…” Jungkook frowns, “We can’t keep doing this, can we?”

Somehow you know exactly what he’s talking about, you can’t keep building this tension between you two. It goes nowhere.

“No” You admit softly, “We can’t.”

You think about Jimin’s words…could Jungkook…? But you don’t want to jump to happy conclusions, put yourself out there and then be wrong. But he tried to fucking kiss you. The girls were right, is this really all for you? You can’t keep doing this. It’s not good for you. “We really can’t.” you say again.

Jungkook smiles, but its soft and sad and makes you want to kiss his pouting lips until he shows you a real smile but you can’t.

“I’m sorry about last night.” Jungkook moves to his back, he stares up at the ceiling.

“I was just really drunk.” He continues, “Drunk me is wild.” He chuckles awkwardly.

“Is that really an excuse anymore?” you feel brave enough to say.

“y/n…”

“Forget it. We’re okay.”

“Are we?” Jungkook moves back to his side, facing you. He gives you a troubled look and you melt. Why are you always melting because of this man?

“Yeah. What’s more important is that your birthday is next week…”

“Oh yeah.”

“Can I be in charge of your party?”

“I don’t want a party, just a couple of friends.”

“Let me host it!”

“Okay, fine.” Jungkook smiles, “I can’t wait.”

“Do I have to invite Vanessa?”

“y/n.” Jungkook groans.

“Kidding!” you sing. Although, you aren’t entirely sure that you’re just kidding.

“It would be nice if you could plan this with Vanessa actually…she mentioned wanting to do something nice for my birthday too.” He sort of whispers out, like he didn’t want you to actually hear.

“Oh.” You aren’t sure what to say. You obviously don’t want co-host a get together with Vanessa but she is his girlfriend after all.

“Fine.”

You and Vanessa? Let’s see how this goes.

#bts #bts smut #bts fluff #bts angst #jeon jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #jungkook angst

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avintagekiss24 · 4 years ago

Text

leave out all the rest | c. beck

→ pairing: chris beck x black!reader

→ word count: 5387

→ warnings: 18+ ONLY, smidge of angst, smut, sex, breeding kink, oral sex (female receiving), vaginal fingering, hand job, explicit language

→ square filled: @badthingshappenbingo

flashbacks

→ request: chris beck + breeding kink + "babe, I’m never gonna finish this work if you keep doing that" + "I know for a fact that you can be a hell of a lot louder than that"

→ author note: dr. space daddy is finally here! this is also the first of my 5k celebration fics! all fics will be tagged #5k...holy god. thanks so much for the request @thedarkplume! title from linkin park leave out all the rest (i loveeee this song); line divider by @firefly-graphics; flashbacks are in italics. i also formatted this with the beta text post editor on desktop... so hopefully nothing looks weird and the italics/bold actually work... it is tumblr after all.

oh, hey, there’s a bit of a marvel crossover in this too!

Nervous doesn’t even begin to describe how you feel in this moment. Your stomach hasn’t been settled since you got the call two days ago. It’s been flipping and twisting ever since. Sleep hasn’t come easy either, but you’re used to that. Ever since Chris left, you haven’t slept well. It’s been almost seven hundred and thirty days— well, just three days short.

You follow the two tall military men, decked out in their dress blues, through the secure facility, your black leather combat boots thudding against the tile floors. Everything is white— the walls, the floors, the coats of all the scientists and doctors milling about— except for you and your flowery, thigh length sundress. Dark eyes wide, teeth nibbling on a sore, often bloody bottom lip from all the nibbling, small purse bouncing off one hip as a duffel bag bounces off the other.

Winding through corridor after corridor, pausing as the men lift their badges to keypads to get door after door to click open. An eerie quiet looms throughout the entire building, nothing but random beeps, your breathing, and footsteps.

Nervous doesn’t begin to describe it.

The walk gives you too much time to think about the last seven hundred and twenty seven days. All of the crying. All of the anger— the screaming. Chris trying to calm you down, assure you that they were okay— that he had to do this.

"It’s so easy for you, isn’t it?" You sobbed into the phone, staring up into the stars, knowing that he couldn’t but secretly hoping that he could see you.

"This is not easy for me," he choked back tears, his tongue heavy, "Leaving you is never easy but I have to do this, baby. We have to go back for Mark. We have to."

You didn’t answer his calls for over a week. And when you did, your words were quick and harsh.

"I can’t do this anymore. I’m moving in with my sister."

Chris was silent on the other end of the phone— too silent. He sighed after a while and just said, "Ok. I understand."

That was day four hundred and sixty three.

So you moved in with your sister. Got a job at the local bar, picked up every shift you could, sometimes working sixty, seventy hours a week— just so you didn’t have to think about him. It didn’t work. You’d still stare out the window at night, up into the big black sky and through the twinkling little stars, wondering where he was, what he was doing. If he was thinking about you.

Unbeknownst to you, Chris continued to call your sister. Just to check on you.

Day seven hundred was when two Air Force officers walked into the bar as you were cutting up lemons and oranges. Your stomach, in a perpetual state of tight and sour, dropped to your feet. It’s never good when the military comes knocking on your door.

“He’s dead,” you spit out, eyes watering, chest starting to heave, “He’s dead, isn’t he? They’re all dead.”

When they removed their hats, your hands flew to your face, covering your mouth to muffle the sobs. You just knew they were all dead. Humans can’t stay in space for this long. It’s not natural.

“No ma’am,” the taller, brown skinned man answered, a small smile breaking onto his face, showing off the distinctive gap between his two front teeth, “They’re back in our orbit. They’ll be landing within the next seventy two hours.”

It was a flurry after that. Phone calls, you moving back onto the base, protocol gatherings, interviews with local and national media. None of it mattered. You just wanted to see him— you needed to see him.

Not before his mandatory three week quarantine that is.

Day seven hundred and twenty five is when they called to let you know that he was ready to move onto the second phase of his integration back on earth. Two weeks cohabitating with another person of his choice, just to make sure that his body and cells can still tolerate, you know, earth— and that he doesn’t give off anything that could make earthlings sick.

They called to let you know that Chris chose you— if you wanted to, of course. If not, he could call his sister.

You were packing your bag before the call even ended.

After two days of getting tested for everything known to man, it’s now day seven hundred and twenty seven and here you are, passing through the last set of doors and stepping into a large observatory room. One of the General’s starts talking, but you don’t hear a word. You just blink slow, lips falling open as you stare back at Chris as he stands at the little square window of his living quarters. He smiles soft, running his hand through his short, dark hair before waving and placing his palm on the window.

Tears cloud your vision. Your chin trembles as a sad smile spreads on your face. A sob chokes in your throat and a warm tear streaks down your cheeks. Despite the talking man, you step up to the window and press your much smaller hand on the glass, spreading your fingers to match his. Chris rests his forehead to it and you do the same as you really start to bawl— shoulders shaking, face breaking, breath rushing fast and hard.

"Baby, don’t cry. Come on pretty, don’t— don’t cry."

Chris’ voice is muffled by the thick glass, but just hearing it— so close, so familiar— after so longs it’s just… it’s almost too much. It is too much.

“Ma’am, we can’t let you in there like this. We need you to calm down.”

Dense thuds shake the glass as Chris pounds on it, "Open the door, Sam!"

Sam grabs your bicep, gently, guiding you towards the door— Chris following you both, still talking to you through the glass.

"It’s okay baby, I’m right here. I’m right here."

“We need you to calm down,” Sam starts again, “He hasn’t been around—”

"Sam! Goddamn it, leave her alone! Open the door!"

“Beck! You cool it in there!”

"Don’t be an asshole! Open the door! She’s scared!"

You hear a scoff, “Step back from the window, Dr. Beck.”

"I swear to God—"

“Step back from the window, Dr. Beck.” Sam is stern now, pointing his finger towards Chris.

Sam pauses for a few long seconds, blinking slow but keeping his hand around your bicep— and thank God, because you honestly need it, “I’m going to badge you into the hallway, okay? You take this keycard,” he presses it into your palm, “And put it up to the keypad at the second door after I close this door behind you. It’s only good for one passthrough— once you’re in, you’re in until the medical staff clears you both. Understand?”

The second half of his speech is softer, his thumb rubbing the back of your arm. You like Chief Master Sergeant Sam Wilson. You nod quick, rubbing at your face with the back of your hand, sniffling hard and focusing a shaky breath out through your teeth as you step in front of the door. There’s a loud click and the metal pops, Sam reaching past you to push it open.

Your body, on autopilot, takes three steps to the second door, eyes staring at the keypad on the wall beside it. Chris is still talking to you through the windows, one hand pressed to the glass, the other on the door handle.

"Just a few more seconds baby. You’re doing so good."

There’s another click— Sam closing the door behind you. Water fills your eyes again, emotion choking up in your throat at the gravity of it all. All of the screaming. All of the crying. All of the hating him and loving him and missing him for seven hundred and twenty seven days all culminating right here, right now, while he’s just three feet away from you. The sky used to be the thing keeping you apart— now it’s just a wall. A door— that you can’t walk through.

"Baby, Chris says gently, "Come on baby. Open the door, honey."

You’re frozen. Eyes locked on the keypad, fingers gripping the keycard so hard they start to burn. Open the door, honey takes you back. Takes you back to the day that he told you he was going up— that he’d be gone for a year.

“Open the door, honey. Talk to me.”

“I don’t want to talk to you.” You sniffle, staring at your reflection in the mirror in your small bathroom.

“You knew this was coming. I don’t know why you’re so mad.”

“A year? A year, Chris? I’m just supposed to put my life on hold for you for an entire year?”

He sighs through the door, “I’ve worked my ass off for this, you know that.” You do know that, you’re just being selfish. Needy and selfish, “I know we’ve got plans baby, but it’s just a year. One year and then I’m all yours—”

“Yeah, until the next time you decide to go up there. This is what Melissa warned me about. You get addicted to it.”

“I won’t.”

“You will,” you retort, “I know you.”

That makes him laugh, and then you’re laughing because he’s laughing, “Open the door, please.” Chris sighs again.

As soon as you turn the knob, he’s pushing through it, lifting you up off your feet and twirling you around— to make you laugh again.

You were standing on a precipice that night and neither one of you knew it. Your lives, both individual and combined, would change forever and that was the night that set it all in motion.

The keycard digs into your fingers and palm, bringing you back into the present. Back into the hallway, back in front of Chris. You blink, linking eyes with him again, finding them soft and down turned, his head tilted as he presses his fingers to the glass.

"Let me hold you," he says soft. So soft that the glass between you gobbles it up. But you just know that’s what he said. You just know.

The door clicks in your ear, a breeze is in your face as Chris throws it open, and then you’re consumed. Arms wrapped around you, hard chest against yours as you’re lifted right off of your feet. He’s so warm— he’s always been so damn warm.

“Oh my god,” he whispers, leaning back a little as you push your face into his neck, “This moment was the only thing keeping me going.”

“I’m sorry,” you sob, pushing your face into his shoulder, your tears wetting his NASA sweatshirt, “I’m so sorry, I was so selfish,” the words are clipped and broken, heavy on your tongue, “Chris, I—”

“Don’t. Don’t do that, it doesn’t matter.” He sits you back on your feet, rubbing your back with both of his large hands, “I’m the one that should be sorry.”

You cry openly into his chest, wrapping your arms around him and pushing your hands up into his sweatshirt, under the thin t-shirt underneath— just to feel his skin, “I missed you so much.”

One, two, three, four pecks of his warm lips on the top of your head before he rests his cheek there, holding you tight as he takes a deep breath, “All that’s over now, hmm?” you can feel the smile on his face, “We don’t have to miss each other anymore.”

A yawn pushes out of your mouth as you stretch out tight, sore muscles screaming. Eyes flutter as you shift, another deep breath pushing out your nose as you nuzzle your face into the pillows, body cocooned in warmth. You’re drifting again, quick, when an abrupt panic races through your veins without warning. Your stomach drops, skin instantly flushing with heat as you spring up, eyes as wide as saucers as your breath rushes.

That’s when you hear it, an all too familiar sound. A pencil, tapping slowly, methodically, against something. It calms you instantly. It’s real, you’re real, Chris is real, and you’re here. He’s here.

You swing your legs over the edge of the small bed, tucked in the corner behind a small partition. There’s a soft light glowing underneath it and a single red blinking dot emanating from the corner of the room— a camera. You push your hair out of your face but keep your fingers on your cheeks, closing your eyes as you focus on your breathing. In, out, in, out, in, out. There’s a murmur, Chris mumbling to himself and you can’t help but smile.

You stand and start moving towards the noises, padding soft and slow as his mess of brown hair and hunched back comes into view. He stands, switching out an X-Ray on the viewer before he plops back down into the swivel chair, staring at it for a second before he starts flipping through the large, open text book just to his left. There’s a little white board off to the right, leaning against the wall, the days he’s been “gone”, seven hundred and twenty seven, scribbled in his messiest of messy handwriting.

The little slice of time watching him sends you right back to your college years, waking up in his dorm room, finding the bed empty and him huddled over a too small desk, furiously flipping through a thousand page text book. You’d sneak up on him, just as you are now, barely dressed and sleepy eyed. Dig your fingers into his hair, scratch his scalp slow. Giggle as his shoulders slump and his head falls back a little, him moaning all the while.

“God, that feels good.”

“You let me fall asleep.”

“You cried yourself to sleep. Didn’t have the heart to wake you… you look like you haven’t slept in a year.”

“Hmm, more like two. What are you doing?” you ask, pushing around his side and crawling into his lap, nuzzling into his shoulder.

“Looking at our X-Rays from earlier today. I’m working on another paper for the Institute.”

“Trying to see if you guys are still earthlings?”

He laughs, the sound rumbling through you, making you smile, “Kinda, yeah. Our body masses have changed dramatically— our bones are longer, I’m not shitting you.” You giggle again at the enthusiasm in his voice, “It’s just a few centimeters, but still. Our brain waves are a little different, metabolism has sped up… it’s incredible.”

You keep the small smile on your face as your fingertips drift over his chest, rubbing slow as you feel his eyes fall to you, “You should get back in bed,” he says, squeezing your knee gently, “You look so tired, baby.”

“Not without you.”

He laughs again, “My circadian rhythm’s all fucked up, I can’t sleep.”

“Then it looks like you're stuck with me,” you kiss his chin and then cuddle back into him, “Don’t mind me.”

Mind you, he doesn't. He just goes about flipping pages and scribbling down random thoughts, marking up his pile of x-rays and fumbling through his and the rest of the crew's medical charts. You push your hand up into the arm of his navy blue NASA sweatshirt, raking your nails up and down his forearm absentmindedly as you breathe him in. Your other hand wanders too, tracing the band of his dark sweatpants before skipping up into his sweatshirt, brushing over his stomach and up to his chest.

The pads of your fingers outline the muscles that are still there, his pecs, down and across his soft abs, before back up and over a cheeky nipple. He jumps slightly, crinkling his nose as he smiles big and hard, “Babe, I’m never gonna finish this work if you keep doing that.”

“Maybe that’s the point.”

“Oh, is that so?”

You bat two big eyes up at him, the weight of going almost two years without catching up with you right at this moment. A hum vibrates in your throat as you stand, taking a few steps away from him before you toss your eyes over your shoulder, licking your bottom lip before sinking your teeth into it. You hold out your hand, wiggling your fingers after a few moments, watching him drag his big eyes down your bare legs and then back up over your powder pink satin shorts and matching camisole.

“Come to bed, Dr. Beck.”

He’s up and on his feet before the words are out of your mouth. Warm fingers interlace with yours as the two of you move back towards the bed, falling onto the soft twin size mattress. His weight dips into the bed as he sinks his knees into it, pulling his sweatshirt over his head as you crawl towards the headboard. You draw your legs up, swaying them gently back and forth, palms flat on your thighs as you inhale deep, watching as he tosses his shirt to the floor.

The smile on your face grows larger as he crawls over you, pushing your legs open with his soft hands before he settles right between them. Chris takes his time looking at you, smiling soft as his eyes drift over your face, his index finger dragging down the bridge of your nose, over two full lips, and down your chin and neck. You let out a quick breath when the pad of that sneaky finger dips just inside your tank top— right into your cleavage.

He cups your face, his thumb resting on your lips, brushing gently, “I’m never leaving you again,” he whispers, blue eyes filling with earnest as they bounce between yours, “I mean it.”

You turn your head into his palm, pressing your lips into the soft, warm skin, planting kisses, “You promise?”

The delivery is breathless. Quiet. Small. Almost begging him to mean it. He takes a deep breath, pushes it out slow before leaning in, closing his eyes as he rubs the tip of his nose against yours. That’s when he kisses you— slow. Deep. Tongue pushing through your lips and into your mouth. Massaging the roof of your mouth before sliding along your tongue. He even moans a little, lets his body— muscles, bones, brain— relax. Lets himself melt into you because it’s just been so damn long.

It ends slow, the kiss. Chris grabbing your lip with his teeth and pulling gently before he rests his forehead to yours. Eyes closed, his big, skilled hands and fingers flirting with your calves—pushing over your knees and then down your thighs to come to rest on your sides and hips.

“I promise.” You slide your hands up and down his sides, letting your eyelids flutter as he continues, punctuating his words with more gentle kisses, “We can start that life you’re so crazy about,” he laughs when you laugh and wrap your arms around his neck, “Buy you a house.”

“On the base?”

“I thought you didn’t like the base?”

“I don’t… but I kinda... do.”

“Then yeah, on the base if that’s what you want.”

Your eyes are still closed as hot lips press against your face— the crook of your nose, underneath one eye, cheeks, and then chin. You push your fingers up into his hair as he forges a path with his lips and tongue— down your neck, over two collarbones, down your arm— all the while his hands move upward. Up into your silk top, nimble fingers playing with two tight nipples before he rucks the silk top up to your chin.

“Wait,”

“What?”

“What about them?”

“Them, who?”

Pointing with your foot towards the blinking red light in the corner, “Them.”

He laughs and you laugh, covering your face with your hands until Chris pries them away, “They’re nerds, babe. We’ve already made them so nervous they’ve left the control room.”

You honestly can’t remember the last time you laughed this hard. Not since he left you suppose. It’s a nice sound, for both you and him, filling up the small space, making it alive and lived in instead of clinical and dry, “That’s not nice, Chris!”

He shimmies the thin material up over your head, casting it to the floor, “It’s the truth! I should know. Remember the first time I saw you naked? I couldn’t look anybody in the eye for a week.”

The memory makes you laugh, soft and dreamy-like, “That was so long ago.”

Chris catches the tone. It makes him halt, for just a second, his eyes shifting away from you. Guilt. For holding you at an arm’s length for so long. For making you number two. For making you wait for him for so damn long.

You tilt your head, eyes searching his. Gentle hands claim his face, pulling him back into your strong gaze, “Stay with me,” you whisper, eyes bouncing between his, “You’re buying me a house.”

“Ah, yes,” with one fell swoop, your shorts are pulled down your legs, right over the tips of your manicured toes and thrown to the floor, “One story? Two?” He asks, back up on his knees.

“Umm, maybe just one,” You answer, sitting up, slipping your hands into the dark sweats still covering his bottom half, “A two story house is too much to keep clean.”

You pull, but not all the way. Just enough to see his hips and that little tuft of dark hair underneath his belly button. You can’t help yourself and lean forward, kissing his stomach, giggling when he jumps a little. When you do it again, kiss him, and then a third time, and a forth, he gives in. Sweeps your locs over your shoulders and pulls them into a ponytail in his hand. That’s when you hook your thumbs back underneath the thick band of his sweats and pull a little harder, pushing the material right over his hard cock, making it bounce.

Chris kicks out of the sweats, grabs your face in his hands and tilts it upward. Leans down and kisses you again— soft. Sweet. All while rubbing small circles into your cheeks with his thumbs. He stays there, forehead to forehead, eyelashes spread over his buttery, quickly blushing red cheeks as you palm him, dragging your hand from the base right to the tip.

It doesn’t take much— never has. After a few strokes, he’s wet and red all over. Chest, neck, cheeks. Mouth agape, pulling in ragged breaths as his eyelids flutter. He swallows hard, and then hums quick, deep and throaty before inhaling through his open mouth. You push upward, kissing him as you continue slow strokes, sweeping a thumb over his wet tip.

Fingertips brush along the inside of your thigh, down low, first by your knee. Then, slowly, they skirt upward, not groping or kneading, just brushing— flirting with your skin until they reach their destination. You gasp, mouth falling open as adept fingers— not only just in general, but with your body specifically— push through wet folds.

“One story it is then,” he breathes, hot, unhurried, “A dog and a,” he slams his eyes shut, hissing and grunting when you squeeze him, “Fuck baby,” he swallows again, lips trembling as he nuzzles in, rubbing the tips of your noses together, “A dog and a cat.”

Your free hand wraps around his neck, fingertips pushing into his hair as your head tips back, hips start to shove forward, eager for his touch— wanting those fingers inside. When Chris obliges, sinks his index and middle finger into your cunt— touch starved and needy— you mewl. Making a real sound for the first time in seven hundred and twenty seven days. It enlivens you both.

Chris pushes you back, lays you back onto the small mattress, spreads you out. Keeps his fingers inside, pumping slow, curling, massaging. Thumb pressed against your clit, rubbing. He lays between your legs, coming face to face with your most intimate and blows gently. Warm air sticking to balmy flesh. Big blue eyes flick up to yours, then back to your sweet, licking his lips as a squelch fills the room.

His tongue darts out, slips along the inside of your thigh. Your hips react instantly, jutting upward as a sharp breath fills your chest. A long arm pushes up your body, fingers prodding your breast, tweaking a nipple before he palms the skin, but not for long. Within seconds, his fingertips are pushing into a willing mouth. Your tongue, swirling around thick digits as you grab onto his hand, holding it there.

Warm air tickles damp skin again as he blows on you, “Have some babies,” he offers quick, the words muffled by your flesh as he finally laps at you, tongue slipping through sticky folds, flattening against your slit as he massages the delicate, “How many you want, baby?”

Nothing but a bitten-off groan answers him. It comes for many reasons. His fingers somehow delving deeper, lips brushing over your cunt— the thought of babies. Little brown skinned, curly headed babies running in the backyard with that dog and cat. Wide smiles, complete with missing teeth, loud laughter, declarations of love as they jump into mommy and daddy’s arms.

“Oh yeah,” heavy words breathed into your ear, a hunk of man now laying on top of you, cock pressing at your opening, “My pretty girl wants babies,” the wetness makes it easy for him to slide in— all the way in— bury deep, “I’m gonna give them to you. You’ve been so good.”

He’s moving, hips pushing and pulling as he cups your face in his hands, presses his forehead to yours, “I’m gonna fill you up,” he mutters, swollen lips brushing against yours, “Stuff you— full of— my, fuck,” a deep moan, another quick hiss as he bites his bottom lip, overcome by the warmth, the wet— the tight, “Fuck, you feel good.”

Feverish lips are on yours again, teeth nibbling as his hips shove into you. Soft and swift. A palm covering your breast, fingers pressing, kneading and working sensitive, responsive skin. Nipples hardening, heat blooming across an ardent canvas of skin, pulsing hips eager to meet his.

Chris cups your chin, pushes upward so you're forced to keep slitted eyes on him and him only, “You want my babies? Hmm? Tell me baby,” you can only whimper in response, digging your nails into his sides, drawing your legs up and around him as he plunges deep, “Come on honey, use those words. Tell me how much you want my babies.”

He fucks into you hard, jamming his hips just once— the sound of skin on skin slapping out loud and off the walls. It arches your back, the sudden, quick thrust. Sends you right up into his chest. Chris pulls you into his lap as he falls back on his ass, extending his legs, heels digging into the mattress as he wraps his arms around you, holding you close and tight, fingers spreading out on your back.

Hips roll into one another. Fingers grip his calf as you lean back, hot, sloppy lips on your chest, over and between bouncing tits. A taut nipple pulled right into his wet mouth. Slippery tongue swirling and flicking, teeth nibbling before he sucks on the tight nub, teasing it further.

Then he’s holding your hips, forcing you down onto his cock. More rushed, sticky words falling from swollen, red lips, “You want me to fill you up? Hmm? Tell me.”

Tears slip down your cheeks, overcome by it all. The emotion of it, the physicality of you and him tangled together— the words, how many years you’ve waited to hear those words.

“That’s right, sweet girl,” he purrs, thrusting harder, faster, “You want me to come in you, don’t you? You’d love it if I came in you, huh? Knocked you up? Gave you a baby?”

You kiss him hard. Cupping his face, moaning sweet into his wet mouth, “I want it,” it’s breathy— desperate, “I want it, Chris. I want it.”

“Then I’ll give it to you. I’ll give it all to you.”

It’s feverish after that. Pushing and pulling. Grunting, smacking— lips on lips, skin on skin. Large hands gripping, fingers pressing into the meat of thighs and calves and ass and tits. His fingers grip the meat of your thighs, your ass, slide up your back— around your neck as your head falls back. Those fingers find your mouth, push just inside as he wraps his other arm around your waist, pulling your hips closer, helping them rock.

His fingers are out of your mouth, cupping your cheek now. Smoothing hair out of your face as it strains. You try not to get loud, slam your eyes closed, purse your lips as your toes curl and stomach tightens… heart flutters.

“Oh no,” he murmurs, brushing his thumbs over your closed eyes before prodding at your lips, “Don’t do that, honey. I know for a fact that you can be a hell of a lot louder than that. Come on, let me hear you.”

“No, I—“

“Don’t be modest,” his tone shifts, going stern and deep, and that’s all it really takes for the noise to flow, “I wanna hear you.”

But he knew that.

It’s a sweet little hum, and then a gasp before it’s clipped by an obscenity— a shaky, desperate, filthy word that dissolves away into a loud groan and then… it’s all downhill from there.

You couldn’t hold it in if you tried. It’s been too long. A pent up aggression, a nervous need all finally working its way out of you. You pull him close— crush your chest against his, wrap two liquid arms around his neck, press your face right against his. Chris loops an arm around your waist, squeezing your opposite hip, pressing his fingers right into the soft skin until it hurts.

But it’s good, the pain of the squeeze. It helps you right over the edge, makes you finally cum after seven hundred and twenty seven days. Slow at first. A warmth just taking its time as it spreads. The feeling sort of foreign because it’s been so long— your brain hasn’t caught up just yet.

When it does catch up, brain and body finding each other, dormant synapses kicking on with a jolt, it’s not just a warmth. It’s molten now, searing and stirring, passing through veins and muscles and skin and bone— it’s that deep. Toes curling so hard they go numb, fingertips digging into his shoulders as you throw your head back.

You’re sure the scientists and military guards can hear you three floors down.

Chris leans in, hot, wet, shiny lips pressing against your chest, over your tits with sloppy kisses, hips still churning into yours until they just can’t. Wet walls closing in, clamping down as they spasm, that molten enveloping him. His hips freeze quick with the first spurt, but find a haphazard rhythm as he comes. Fills you up just like he promised.

He pushes those warm blooms of silk deep with now pointed, long strokes. Not a drop escaping— it’s all for you, after all. Supply and demand and all that.

The mattress is a dream beneath you. Inviting and soft as he lays you into it, still rooted deep as he rolls you onto your side. An arm snakes around your hip, a palm and long fingers anchoring in the center of your chest. A hot, flushed cheek presses against yours as lazy wet lips drag along the back of your neck. Languid thrusts at random intervals keeps you gasping as he tucks his knees and thighs into the backs of yours.

“Say it again,” you whisper after a few quiet minutes, breath still heavy, chest still heaving.

Chris plunges into you again, soft and sweet and deep, “Say what, honey?”

“That you won’t,” the words break off, a moan replacing them as he kisses a trail down your arm, fucks into you once, twice, three times, “That you won’t leave me again.”

“I’m not leaving you again.”

When you wake up the next morning, that little whiteboard with the days scribbled on it is erased. All it says now?

Day one.

#bad things happen bingo #5k...holy god #chris beck #chris beck x reader #chris beck x black!reader #chris beck x you #you x chris beck #reader x chris beck #the martian #chris beck fanfiction

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slothgiirl · 3 years ago

Text

NoLita Nights

timothée and reader run into each other at night and hang out which leads to a hotel room. waitress!reader. smut. 6k works.

“Here,” the middle aged white man says, tossing his heavy card carelessly at you. You hadn’t even set the black leather book down. He hadn’t even glanced at the check.

It was the most dismissive dehumanizing action.

It was not the first time someone had thrown their card at you.

The famous actor sitting across from him wince, reaching to pick the card up as you go for it. Your fingers brush against Timothée’s.

“Thank you,” you’re forced to say, customer service smile plastered on your cheeks so hard it hurts. “I’ll bring this right back.”

You knew who the actor was. You knew of Timothée Chalamet. You didn’t live under a rock.

You also happened to be a waitress at a trendy NoLita restaurant where plenty of influencers and celebs made a pit stop when they didn’t want to be papped. This wasn’t Carbone. Tiktok hadn’t discovered it yet and that was just how the patrons liked it.

It also meant you weren’t star struck. Not that you would be by Timothée Chalamet. You knew he’d been in some movies, but you’d only watched lady bird with a friend and a pint of ben and jerry’s and quickly realized that teenage stories were not for you anymore. Somehow, you’d blinked and stopped being a teenager.

It came with having bills.

You missed being seventeen and having the whole world ahead of you. Now it was all work and school and try to get some sleep between that.

The glitter had worn off New York City.

Did this make you a fully fledged New Yorker?

You go to charge them, wanting whoever the man was out. Most likely some executive something. That’s usually what middle aged white men were in these parts: the fashion financiers and studio people. The faster you gave him the bill and smiled and hopefully got a tip for your troubles.

Once again, you go to set the leather checkbook on their table, “you’re all set,” you smile. “Anything else I can get you?”

“Another pitcher of mimosa?” Mr. Saville Row suit doesn’t even look at you.

Your smile doesn’t even twitch. You were a pro at this. The early morning Starbucks rush had given you nerves of steel. There would be no cry in the walk in here. It didn’t get to you anymore.

Timothée smiles awkwardly at you, clearly embarrassed as he shifts in his seat, “Please.”

“Sure.”

You go.

It was twenty minutes till closing so there weren’t many tables in your section to tend to.

Twenty minutes goes by. You start clearing out the empty tables, putting the chairs on top, blowing out the candles. Thank god you were out at closing. You’d been called in early which meant you wouldn’t be sticking around to do inventory and cleaning. It’s the small things in life.

Mr. Saville Row is still talking.

They both are.

You want to bash your head in.

“Just to let you know, we are closed now. Is there a box or water I can get for you?”

Mr. Savile Row asks for another mimosa. Really, he could hold his alcohol if nothing else.

“Unfortunately our kitchen is closed now.”

“That sucks. These little bitches are strong unlike brunch.”

You smile, “thank you.”

They finally leave.

Your last table.

You waste no time in closing out. “Fuck this shit,” you tell Javier, the busboy. “You won’t see me until next Thursday.” Thank god for tips. Mr. Saville Row had left a fat two hundred. Chunk change but better than the assholes who asked for sides and extras and left nothing.

“Sure mija,” he laughs, “unless Kat calls out sick again.”

“Not even then.” Your feet ached. Fucking heels.

You clock out, grab your bag, and unbutton the sleeves of your starched shirt as you make your way to the subway station. Time to go home and collapse on your mattress. You had a whole five hours to sleep before having class.

Harlem Renaissance Literature might have been an interesting class if it wasn’t over zoom and you kept falling asleep during discussion. It didn’t help that you only needed it for the credits.

You almost feel like a real human being by the time you swipe your card and make it to the platform that perpetually smells like dead cave air and stale sweat: like a bar when the lights come on. Sure, your makeup feels sticky and the underside of your mask has most of your foundation, but you no longer feel like your cheeks might crack from smiling in your sugary sweet customer service voice.

You pop your headphones into your old iphone.

It’s late.

There’s only a few people still catching rides back. Monday was not exactly a party night. Not even hump day.

There’s a bum with a sigh dozing off in his puffer jacket. A few others are also getting off work and aggressively avoid eye contact as they scroll through their phones. Some people are heading to work.

You stand waiting for your train by Timothée Chalamet and politely pretend not to notice him the same way you never picked up dishes until a table was done because there was something inherently awkward about that type of confrontation you had yet to get past. You were doing him a favor.

His wireless headphones squished his curls to his head.

With a mask on and in sweats and a puffer jacket, he could be anyone. It was impossible to tell he was the same actor whose face you couldn’t escape during publicity for some sci-fi movie.

He was slighter than you’d imagined, and taller. But there was something alluring about his severe bone structure and you realize you’re staring out of the corner of your eye so you scroll through your podcast app and try to choose between true crime and getting depressed by current events.

True crime it is.

“Are those-” you hear because you weren’t about to get mugged (headphone volume low with only one earphone in) “wire? headphones?”

You look up.

“Sorry,” Timothée says nervously. You can hear the smile in his voice. “I-You were my waitress. You probably don’t remember me.”

“I do,” your voice sounds harsh, such a contrast to the echoing station and how a waitress usually sounds.

“Oh,” he winces. “It might be better if you didn’t. Sorry about Jack. Some people can be such assholes.”

“You know what they say,” you reply, “judge people by how they treat their staff? Waiters. Actually, I don’t think that’s a saying as I’m saying this.”

Timothée laughs, before asking, “Let me make sure I remember your name right,” and might just be one of the few people who actually paid attention when you introduced yourself.

“And...you’re Timothée?”

“I see,” he winks playfully before pitching his voice like a bad dracula impersonator, generic eastern european accent and all, “my reputation precedes me.”

“Well you’re no Zendaya.”

"Actually," Timothée wipes imaginary dust off his shoulder, “I was in a movie with her.”

“Name dropping already?” You raise a brow.

He laughs.

“I served Emily Ratajowkski last month so I’m pretty connected too.”

Timothée laughs so hard he snorts. “Okay, okay. I see your point. But really, what’s with the old school headphones?”

You lift your phone. “iphone 5.”

“What!”

“It still works,” you say defensively. “Sort of.”

“Sort of?” He arches a brow, interested.

“Well,” you make a face, “doesn’t have 5G, but I don’t have a phone plan, just live off wifi, so it all works out.”

“That’s,” he humps, “actually kind of impressive.”

“Down with big tech or whatever,” you shrug. You just tended to use things until they broke. And so far so good for your phone relic.

“Gonna build your own computer?”

“Eh,” you admit, “I’ll probably watch a bunch of youtube videos but I’m too lazy to be a real crunchy granola girl. Though a true crunchy granola girl probably isn’t so attached to their phone.”

“You have a point there,” he nods. “So what are you listening to kn your ancient phone.”

“Come on dude, this isn't a nokia.” Now that was an idea. Flip phones or those slide phones? It was such a throwback to when there seemed to be so many shapes of phones in the 2000s. “True crime podcast. About some fundie cult? I don’t know,” you explain, “sometimes I feel like I need background noise. I don’t know what it is about my brain but it’s like I need it but I’m not listening very much.”

“To decompress?”

“Yeah. Along those lines. Now what are you listening to?”

Timothée answers, “a spotify playlist. Don’t laugh, I have one for subway rides at night, weekday edition.”

“No. I get it. I have a shower playlist for when I’m depressed and it's cold water.”

“Completely different vibes,” Timothée nods, eyes crinkling with a smile. “Subway during the day or night.”

“Wednesday night, Saturday night,” you add. “So what’s the vibe?”

“Currently, Grandmaster Flash.”

“Ah. I have no clue.” You shrug.

“That’s fine. I have no clue what a fundie is,” he admits with a chuckle.

“I can put on a playlist and we can compare notes,” you offer, keeping the conversation going. His laugh did something to you. You felt warm and bubbly the more you talked to Timothée.

“Or you could give me your spotify.”

“No,” you tease, “I have to keep my love of,” you try and figure out something that was cringy to like but can’t really figure out what, “I feel like nothing’s all that cringy anymore. Oh! Um. Olivia Rodrigo?” But she wasn’t either. She was just getting into overplayed territory because of how much she had blown up. “Grimes after the whole Elon Musk thing?”

“You have it out for big tech,” he teases right back. “Going to wear a mask forever to be anti-facial recognition.”

“You caught me. That is why I wear a face mask. Not the global pandemic,” you deadpan, trying to stifle a laugh. “At least there’s no mask tan in winter.”

“Maskne.”

“You too!”

“Around the chin,” Timothée tilts his head back even though the fabric of his face mask covers his chin. You just see the pale expanse of his throat, the way his adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he swallows.

“I bought a cleanser with salicylic acid for the first time in years.”

“That’s the real pandemic.” He smiled easily, his eyes shining with mirth. “Maskne.”

“So many pandemics.”

“Knock on wood.”

Somehow, you had both ended up standing next to each other. No longer just waiting for the train but together like you’d planned to meet up, only inches between you both.

The MTA ruins everything.

Speaker from the 80s crackling, the MTA announces an hour delay that means you’ll easily be stuck here for two hours. Fuck.

You groan.

Your feet hurt from walking all over the restaurant. You’d had a thirty minute break hours ago now. It was a mix of numbness in your calves and an ache in the arch of your foot.

Timothée says smoothly, “do you want to split a cab or is Uber too big tech for you?”

You snort. “Don’t really Uber, but that’s more of a saving money thing when the MTA isn’t trying to fuck with my day. Sure.”

“Okay.”

It’s much colder outside the subway station as you wait with Timothée for the uber.

You regret your thin sweater. You zip up thinking about the coats you had back home, in your closet, safe and warm while the wind ripped right through your jacket.

“I’m in Hell’s kitchen. Do you ever think about how Uber pool used to be so normal? I definitely sat with random drunk people going home from work when I didn't want to wait.”

“ I’m going to sound like such an asshole,” Timothée warns, “but I never uberpooled.”

You tilt your head up at him, “Yeah. I get that. That would be like, well maybe not a Beatle but like a second tier marvel actor uber pooled.”

“Thanks,” he says sarcastically, “It’s like I just read celebrity mean tweets for fun.”

“You're welcome.” You do a little bow. “Does that work for you? Hell’s kitchen?”

“Yeah.” He nods. “Hey, do you mind if I take off my mask? I’m good either way.”

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” you wink, lowering your mask over your chin. “I’m ready for the black plague to take me if I don’t have to work 8 hours while wearing a mask.”

“That bad?”

“No. It’s more annoying than anything. Not as bad as summer when I’d start dripping sweat.”

“Gross,” Timothée says. “TMI dude.”

So of course you keep going, “it would pool on my top lip and there’d be a damp spot.”

When he shakes his head at you while laughing, you can see his smile. It’s ridiculous how easy you feel yourself getting flustered over him. Timothée runs a hand through his curls and you melt.

“That was me in the desert,” he admits, “cold air’s better for it,” Timothée tells you, “and then in the summer!”

“Poor you.” You giggle, “truly suffering out here. I’m getting cards thrown at me but you,” you point at him, “have it bad.”

“Do you get that a lot,” he looks worried.

“Sometimes. I feel like it doesn't really matter where I work, there's shit customers everywhere. Like they are either the type to be nice or they’re not. The type to tip or they don’t no matter if you get on your hands and knees.”

“That really sucks.”

“It’s not forever,” you tell him, “I’ll finish school and go get shit in some other work where I can sit down. It’s the little things.”

“That’s depressing.”

“I like what I’m studying,” you shrug, “I just don't know what I’ll do with it.”

“Did you move to New York for school?”

“Yeah, I did. Nothing fancy, I just came for community college from upstate and transferred to a four year. Cheaper.”

“I would’ve liked to keep studying. There were a lot of cool classes that looked interesting.”

“Right! But it’s like I have to do my major classes so I can’t just take whatever I want. Pre-Columbian History of North America sounds so cool, but I don’t technically need it.”

Timothée looks down at his phone, “hey, don’t hate me-”

“What?”

“The Uber just cancelled,” he winces looking up.

“What.” You look up at the sky, “the universe is fucking with me tonight.”

“You know what makes everything better,” he grins at you.

You raise a brow, “what?” Curious.

“New York pizza.”

“Scar’s or?”

“I think Joe’s is nearby,” he tilts his head thinking, “and it closes late as fuck.”

“Yeah. It’s a short walk,” then laugh, “I’m a New Yorker with my ‘short walks’ when it's like thirty fourty minutes.”

“You couldn’t do it in LA so it’s nice. You can walk around most major cities in Europe.”

“Never been. I was supposed to but then this whole Covid thing messes up my plans.”

“Oh shit,” Timothée goes, “where were you going to go?”

“Germany. For the clubs and museums. You know.”

“EDM rave type,” he asks, “or,”

“I love a good trance night. The club with the disco shark,” you grin, “though is there anything like a house party where you all show up to class hungover and it’s like ‘I see you’.”

“Showing up to class? You’re so responsible,” he makes fun of you, “Paris is fun for a night out too.”

“Let me call up my private jet then.”

“Oh fuck you.”

You laugh with Timothée.

Joe’s is dead at this time of night so you both grab a slice of pizza and, “Yes, coffee,” you cry excitedly because you are cold.

You hold it in both hands urging feeling to return to your fingertips.

“Don’t knock it until you watch it,” Timothée says as he takes a huge bite of his slice. You rip part of the crust off like it’s a croissant and fuck yeah, this sort of makes up for the MTA being shitty and Ubers hating your guts.

“I’m still scarred for life from the Johnny Depp remake so no thanks,” you melt from how quickly the warmth of the coffee fills you up and his knees knocking against yours. You’ve only known him for hours but you fall into step with him like you’ve known him for years. It’s finally meeting up with your group the night before it’s due and going through the five stages of friendship in six hours. “I’ll pass.”

“I’m not saying I’ll be better than Gene Wilder, I’m not a monster.”

“Sure,” you tease, “you’ll just scar another generation with your remake. I don’t want to know anything about the oompa loompas.”

Timothée laughs, “I’m hurt.”

“If you want I can lie.” You wipe tomato sauce from the corners of your mouth before starting, “It’s a game changer. Best actor. That scene with the chocolate really moved me,” you pretend to wipe away tears, “and the oompa loompas!”

“Better than. . .”

“Better than Johnny Depp. Ha, I had you.”

“It’s Gene Wilder.”

“Young Frankenstein is a classic,” you agree. “The boat scene still gets me. Someone should make that a roller coaster or something.”

“Coney Island?”

“That could work though I feel like you go to Coney Island to say you’ve been. That’s what I did with Times Square. Me and this girl who moved here from Indiana. It was a very is this it by the strokes moment.”

Timothée laughs, “no. you’re totally right. It’s Piccadilly circus all over again. Just a bunch of billboards. And signs. Broadway is fun though. I’ve seen Phantom every time my aunt flies over from France and it still slaps.”

“I,” you put a hand over your chest as you sit up straight, “go see my school’s theater stuff. Support your community or whatever.”

“Hey,” he knocks his knee against yours on purpose, “theater was hit hard by the pandemic.”

“I believe you. I just don’t see the point of paying broadway prices. I’d see like a good play. . .Oh or Hamlet. I love Hamlet.”

“Slave Play,” he arches a brow.

“Isn’t that the one Kanye West went to?”

Timothée gives you an are you for real look and says, “that’s been popping off since before the pandemic.”

“You got me,” you blush, shielding your eyes with a hand, “I’m uncultured, only auteur Michael Bay movies. And Fast and the Furious when I want some philosophy.”

Like a chef, Timothée pinches his fingers together in the air, “it’s about family.”

You giggle.

He smiles.

“What makes me feel real old is realizing Kanye West isn’t the most relevant anymore like he was during Watch the Throne,” you muse, “the kids don’t know.”

“Boomer.” He wiggles his brows.

“Asshole.” You crumple a clean napkin and throw it at him.

Timothée laughs. “It’s all about Kid Cudi, ASAP Rocky, Tyler the Creator now.”

“I raise you Frank Ocean.”

“That’s almost most R&B.”

You sing a bit of TLC, “don’t go chasing waterfalls.” You drink more of your coffee. It could be any random bodega cup and that’s what you love about it.

“You ready to go,” Timothée asks, “I saw a couple of cabs drive by outside. I’m protesting Uber now.”

“Until you’re coming back from the club and need a ride,” you grin.

“True. But for now,” he spreads his hands out with a smile and shrug.

“Um, I don’t think I can get up.” You slump in the booth, kicking your feet up on the bench he was sitting on. “My feet are dead.”

“I’ll carry you,” he smirks.

You look him over. Sure, he was tall, but you could carry four plates, a whole tray full of drinks, “I’ll carry you.” You lift your arm and flex.

“Damn,” he cows, resting his hand on your calf and the feel of his large hand on your leg, even over the fabric of your black trousers, is a hot spark of electricity. Your mouth feels all cottony as you smile at him, flustered.

“Too bad about the epic food baby,” you pat your belly, regaining your footing. You had some belly rolls from all the delicious food a stone’s throw from your apartment. Tacos did damage.

Timothée bites his bottom lip, “well, New York pizza is the best,” he smirks, shifting so he’s leaning towards you, arms on the table.

Neither of you make a move to leave.

“Hard to argue with that,” you nod, looking into his eyes. You loved the muddy green of them. He had such an expressive face, it was hard to look away, it was hard not to smile back at him.

“Where to?” The cabbie asks. His accent was thick middle eastern.

You’re about to give your cross streets when Timothée cuts in, sitting next to you even though there was more than enough room and you’re not mad. You like having his leg against yours. You liked having his hand on your knee and being able to smell the crisp linen scent of him that held just a hint of earthy patchouli that was probably weed. You leaned into his side.

“Times Square.”

You look over at him, “really?”

“It’s 1 am. It’s dead,” he points out, “why not? Unless you want to go home?”

“No,” you shake your head, deciding to go with it if it meant stretching out the time you had with Timothée for a while more. “Let’s do it when it’s not infested with tourists.”

“Okay fake New Yorker.”

“Hey! I’m from upstate. New Yorker with a soft -er.”

He laughs, “bullshit. That’s a whole other place.”

“I trudged through a flooded subway,” you argue back.

Timothée leans in close, “okay, that’s pretty hardcore New York, but,” he glances down at your lips and you think about cutting him off entirely, “do you know how to hop over the turnstyle?”

“Every college kid knows how,” you utter back with a smirk, “nothing like being broke and choosing between a breakfast bagel or putting money on the metrocard.”

The cab meter runs up a total but because it’s money night, the streets are pretty empty. It’s a scene out of Taxi Driver without Robert De Nero going crazy.

Timothée closes the last bit of distance between you, pressing you against the seat as he kisses you.

You waste no time in kissing him back, threading your hands through his hair before resting them against the back of his neck. You play with his curls as he pulls your bottom lip with his teeth before asking, “is this okay?”

“More than okay,” you breath out, running your tongue over his mouth for a moment before Timothée parts his lips and then you’re both making out in the back of the cab. His tongue explores your mouth. He runs it against your own tongue as he trails a hand up your hip to palm your breast, coping a feel.

You suck on his tongue, smiling into him when he groans against you.

Fuck.

Timothée’s exhale warms you cheek as he kisses you hard. It’s not rough so much as intense. He knows what he’s doing and he wants you. It’s knowing the cab ride would end and he’d have to let you go so he’s going to devour as much of you as he can between the street lights and turns.

You welcome the feel of his chest against yours, wanting nothing more than to go on kissing him in the liminal space that was a cab ride.

Timothée nips your lip before pressing a wet kiss against the skin by the corner of your mouth, lingering as you catch your breath. He doesn’t pull away, smiling against your skin before kissing your jaw, “you’re so fucking beautiful.”

“Oh man,” you tease, “and here I thought it was my amazing sense of humor.”

He laughs, pressing a sweet kiss against your mouth which you eagerly return.

You’re hyper aware his hand is still splayed over your breast, sending shivers down your spine at the potential of it all. You want to know how warm his fingers would be against your bare skin, hot and heavy, how his tongue would feel against your nipples.

You swallow hard before Timothée’s kiss blots out everything. The world boils down to you and him, and the back of the cab.

You stroke his tongue with your own, venturing into him. It’s hot. You get lost in the taste of him. Your hand runs down his chest and fuck when you feel the flex of his abdomen, the movement of his body falling under your spell, leaning towards you helplessly.

It’s a moment; it’s a lifetime.

You could spend the whole night just making out with him. It would be enough.

“That’ll be-,” the cabbie interrupts.

Timothée is shameless, only leaning back far enough to get his card, tapping it to pay, still pressed against you.

You rest your head against the window, looking out into the glowing ads towering as Times Square welcomes you into its kitch embrace. The cool glass helps your head stop spinning from how aflame your skin is.

You feel every movement he makes.

“Thanks man,” Timothée tells the cab driver. “Have a good night,” he adds like the nice man he is.

The idea that he might fuck you in the back of a cab and then thank the driver like nothing’s happened goes straight to your core. You want him to fuck you, and if you’re being honest, that is where this night is headed.

You’re just not sure how Times Square fits into it.

Timothée presses a soft kiss against your throat, “come on babe.” His smile is smug, aware of his effect on you.

You roll your eyes, sitting up and popping open the door. “Not sure this counts as a good thing,” you comment. New Yorker’s avoided this place like the plague.

Right now it's pretty dead.

There’s still people hawking their wares on the streets, thirty dollar I <3 New York sweaters, shirts, and keychains.

“It’s kind of nice,” he tries, looking around, up at the huge Hamilton advertisement though you doubted that musical needed the publicity after it had gone supernova. “In a fever dream kind of way?”

You tilt your head with a hum, walking around as he trails after you, “I think Rockerfeller center and the Statue of Liberty live up to the hype. Central Park too but I’m always down to lay on the grass in a good park, central or not.”

“Listen to how someone got brutally murdered?” Timothée bumps his shoulder against yours. “Or how democracy is fucked?”

“Don’t even joke about that! I streamed all of It could happen here, this podcast about how america could go into a civil war and I didn’t leave my house for a month after the election. No. I think I need to stick to listening to Cobra Starship for my own mental health.”

“That is a throwback.” He grins, before looking down at his phone, “Here,” he clicks something and his headphones blare out Good Morning from Singing in the Rain at a volume you can hear.

Timothée watches carefully for your reaction, looking like an adorable puppy waiting for a treat after shaking your hand with his paw.

“Ah, I see what you did there,” you laugh and he steps towards you, taking your hands in his. Timothée leans into you, “you’re so fucking smooth,” you tell him. It was true.

“Thank you,” he grins, “I do try.”

“Aren’t you supposed to lie and go all I don’t even try?”

He laughs with you, pressing a soft kiss against your cheek as Debbie Reynolds sings and then he’s spinning you on the sidewalk in a bad dance because you weren’t expecting it and also can’t dance if it’s not Doja Cat style. You laugh harder as he goes “Buenos dias,” along to the song and you think this is the closest thing to love at first sight you’ve ever experienced. You're also old enough to know how rare a connection like this is and it’s likely the only time you’ll ever find yourself half in love with a man hours after meeting him as you dance with Timothée in Times Square and no one even looks your way.

He buys you a cheap keychain.

Timothée asks if you want to get a hotel room.

The balcony has a view.

If you lean out just so you can see Times Square but you can’t really hear it. “I have class in a few hours,” you tell him even as you kick off your shoes and collapse in the bed.

He tosses his puffer and hoodie on a chair. “I’ll wake you up.”

“Oh yeah,” you arch a brow imagining you looked sexy like the kind of vixen men got on their knees for instead of a barely floating young adult that smelled like restaurant burnt oil.

Timothée nods, earnest, “yeah.” He kicks his sneakers off and joins you in bed.

There’s no pretense.

His knees on either side of your hips, Timothée kisses you passionately, pressing you against the sheets and you melt against him, arching your back as you dig your nails into his shoulders.

He slides a hand under your shirt.

It sends a shiver down your sound that has nothing to do with the cold night.

“Your cold,” he utters agaisnt your skin, trailing kisses down your neck hard, bruising your soft skin, leaving his mark on you.

“Sweater didn’t cut it,” you pull him down farther on you, enjoying the press of his chest on yours.

“You should’ve told me,” he tells you, worry coloring his voice, “I would’ve given you my jacket.”

“I can think of another way you can warm me up,” you say, cringing at how you sound but he’s into it, laughing as he tilts his head up to yours, capturing your mouth in a kiss that’s all intimacy, that means so much on it’s own.

Then his hands are popping the buttons of your button down, “as much as I love a woman in uniform,” he grins, sitting back as your shirt falls to your sides. Your bra is boring.

White so it doesn’t contrast against your work shirt.

You giggle, “you should’ve seen me on halloween.”

“Yeah?”

“Black Widow,” you wink, tugging on the hem of his shirt.

Timothée obliges, pulling off his long sleeves short with some graffiti logo in neon colors. He tosses it before bending back over you, running his hands up your sides and squeezing your breasts.

You moan.

Fuck his touch felt so good against your skin. There was something so delicious about something as simple as contact that was working you up as he kisses your mouth, swallowing the sounds you make while feeling your breasts, his fingers sliding over your nipples.

Fuck.

Thank god for the small things. Your bra unclips from the front.

As much as you want to fuck him, kissing him is to amazing to rush. You lose yourself in his lips, cupping his jaw with your hand and feeling his back flex under your other hand.

Red paints his face, flushed and just as heady as you feel when you look up at Timothée. “Tell me what you want,” he begs in a choked whine.

A certain thread of everyday bossiness comes to a head in the bedroom, you tell him, “I want your mouth on my breasts. Your mouth’s so fucking good Timothée,” you mummer wantonly.

His nimble fingers unclasp your bra and he runs his tongue over your breast, massaging your other with his long fingers. You throw your head back as he finally takes your nipple into his mouth and sucks.

“Just like that,” you tell him, carding a hand through his curls, “you’re making me feel so good!”

You moan from his ministrations, the heat almost unbearable. Your toes curl and you’re wearing way too many clothes still.

With a wet pop, Timothée looks up at you, “you want me to fuck you? I’m going to make you feel so good baby,” he says all husky and worked and you believe him. He’s already making you come undone for him. You’re putty in his hands with his smooth words and entrancing smiles. “My dick’s going to make you feel so fucking good.”

“Yes,” you manage with a whine, “please, fuck, I need your dick! I want it so bad! I want you…”

He pulls back. You fumble with your trousers wanting them off. You wanted Timothée so bad.

This wasn’t some I guess you’ll do one night stand, or alcohol fuelled horniness.

You wanted him. Fullstop.

His sweats come off easy and then he’s helping you out of your trousers. His touch lingers and then Timothée is pulling down the hem of your cotton underwear.

“Fuck,” he says looking down at you and then he goes, “fuck, I think I’ve got a condom in my wallet.” He shuts his eyes looking sheepish and reluctantly gets off you.

You sit up on your elbows, “I thought you were smooth,” you tease him.

Timothée grins back, looking through his wallet and making a mess, “see what you do to me!” He gestures down. His dick was hard.

You laugh, sitting up on your knees and you meet him halfway with a kiss.

He moans into your mouth with want and by now you’re all worked up. Wet for him. You’ve never felt sexier than you do in the moment, you’ve never felt more wanted then when his hands squeeze your ass.

You lay back on the bed, knees welcoming Timothée.

He slots himself between your legs, stopping to press a soft kiss on your knee before lining up his dick at your entrance and pushing inside you.

“Fuck, you feel so fucking good. So wet for me,” he mutters, head thrown back and he shuts his eyes.

He filled you up so well, stretching you out around him.

You love seeing how much you affect him.

But you want more.

You cross your legs around his waist and urge him down towards you.

Timothée’s lips meet yours and he finally moves, thrusting into your. His hips against yours. His hands caressing you, trying to get enough of you but he can’t. It’s driving you crazy, how he seems to have swallowed you up.

In that moment, you don’t know anything but Timothée as he fucks you, the matress shifting, making you moan into his mouth. He takes it all from you, smothering the noises you make from how good he feels inside you, against you, with his lips.

You whine, his name all you can think about. Timothée is all you can think about as the heat inside you becomes unbearable. Your core is ready to burn right through you.

Timothée breaks away and you try to catch your breath as he thrusts hard.

He places his hand over your abdomen, pulling out so that only the head of his dick is still inside your pussy.

You rake your nails lightly down his back, leaving marks. “Please, fuck me. I need you.”

He smirks, pressing his hand against you, “I know. I know. I’m going to make you come all over my dick. That’s what you want isn’t it?”

“Yes, fuck yes!”

Timothée strokes into you slowly, savoring how your pussy takes every inch of him greedily. You can see the bulge in your lower belly as he fills you up. The feeling is intensified by his hand pushing down, feeling himself inside you.

“You take my dick so well babe,” he utters, moaning. “Fuck.”

Something seems to snap.

Building up the pleasure in both of you comes to a head and Timothée buries his head in the crook of your neck, kissing and sucking at your collarbone, larving his tongue over the valley of your breasts that he leaves marked with his teeth.

His thrusts become quick and erratic and fuck. The room is filled with your moans and the wet sound of sex and his balls slapping against you as he pumps into you.

Fuck.

It’s too much.

You’re senseless in a feverish haze of desire and Timothée and the heat in your core crashes over you like a wave dragging you under. You feel so fucking good.

You feel weightless and all fucked out in the best way.

Lost in your orgasam, your pussy clenches around him and it’s all he needs to finally send him over the edge.

He comes.

Timothée collapses on top of you, his name the only thing on his lips.

Your breathing is labored.

The post orgamic bliss might as well be the sensation of your first ever edible hitting.

He rolls off of you, “was that as good for you as it was for me?”

“Oh,” you manage, not sounding as sarcastic as you want when you look at him and partially swoon. Was it love or a really good fuck? “That’s a loaded question.”

“Give me a second,” he smiles at you, “and we can go again. Just to double check.”

You laugh.

Timothée’s still there in the morning, waking you for a class you end up missing when you’d much rather be in bed with him.

“So,” he says lazily, “you want to grab breakfast or should I get your number first?”

“Are those the only options,” you ask, pressing a soft kiss to his chest.

You don’t need to tell him twice.

He adds his number to your phone TiMo-THaY while you take a break from having sex and order room service.

#Timothee Chalamet #timothée chalamet x reader #timothée chalamet imagine #timothée chalamet #timothée imagine #timothée x you #nolita nights #me trying to write smut

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lordabovehelpme · 4 years ago

Text

The Proposal- Din Djarin x Reader

Request: Din proposing to Reader like in the movie The Proposal 😆- @along-the-lines-of-space

A/n: Wait! This is such a cute idea. I kinda strayed from the movie plot and made my own, so hopefully, you like it! I love you, darling!!!

Summary: You and the Mandalorian have to play husband and wife to capture your next bounty. But major things start to show and come to light.

Warnings: some foul language. But that’s it. :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Don’t you walk all menacingly like! I had no other option!” You storm after the broody Mandalorian, your hands waving in the air as they try to demonstrate your thoughts.

He just growls as he continues walking to the ship.

“Did you have a better idea?” You give him a minute to respond and when he says nothing, you lift your head a little higher. “No, just what I thought. All I care about is the fact that we are going to get this bounty thanks to me!”

He twirls around suddenly and stalks towards you. Instinctively, you want to shy away and you have to bite down a squeak. But you keep your ground and glare right into his visor, hoping his stupid eyes will feel your hatred.

The abyss of his visor stares hard and cold into your soul. And you stare back. Hard.

But he just sighs and turns away. For whatever reason, this just makes you even madder.

“No, you don’t get to walk away! Come back here!”

Then he speaks for the first time in the past hour.

“Get on your knee.”

Your face recoils in confusion, “What?”

He turns around and looks at you with a hidden smirk. “If you want to marry me, then ask. Get. On. Your. Knee.”

Your mouth hangs open in shock at the audacity of him.

“No.”

“Looks like we’re out two thousand credits then.”

Cursing, you hate that he’s right. You both need this money. Greef had said that if you wanted this high of a bounty then the two of you would have to somehow get to the bounty's wedding. In a sudden burst of creativity, you declared that the two of you would play a newlywed couple. You’ve never seen his helmet turn so quickly.

You seethe as you fall to your knee. “I hate you.”

“That’s not the right word, dear.” He stands smugly as he puts emphasis on the pet name. His arms cross over his chest and he leans his weight onto one leg.

You mentally stab him about five times before sighing. “Mando…”

He hums, amusement laced in his voice.

“Will you,” a smirk works its way onto your face, “the love of my life, my sweet sweet puppy. I will never be able to live without you.”

His weight shifts back to be centered.

“I cannot go another day without asking you this.” Your hands clutch over your heart as you bat your eyelashes at him.

“Get on with it.” The amusement is no longer there.

“Will you make me the happiest person in the world and…” You intentionally stop, seeing just how long you can draw this out before he snaps.

“Ask the god damn question.”

Ah, not as long as you thought. But alas, the show must go on. “Will you marry me?”

“Yes, now get up and walk faster. Maybe if you run you can keep up.”

***

All those couples you see smiling at each other make marriage look like a dream come true.

But these past few days have been hell. Literal hell.

Clinging to his arm and smiling as people talk to you. Having to hold his gloved hand that is way too large to be anatomically correct. Making up scenarios of how you both met, of your first kiss, of your own wedding day.

If the ground opened up and swallowed you, you’d probably say thank you.

As for now, you’re sitting next to him at the large table you’re all having the rehearsal dinner at. Surprisingly, the bounty seems to be a nice guy. You can tell he loves his soon-to-be husband, and that he loves him as well. You’d never think that he used to be an imperial spy.

“Oh, you two are so cute!” An older lady from across the table smiles at you.

You smile back and thank her, squeezing the Mandalorian’s arm. His visor turns to look at where you did, then rises up to meet your gaze. His hand moves over and squeezes your thigh.

Grabbing his wrist, you bring his hand back above the table and offer the lady another smile.

She giggles and leans forward, “You have as much fun as you want, I won’t tell.”

It takes everything in you not to cringe as you slowly nod your head and turn back to the Mandalorian.

His shoulders slightly shake and you just know he’s softly laughing under that helmet.

“Don’t laugh.” You whisper at him.

“But honey, why don’t we go back and have some fun.”

You glare at him, but then you get his idea. “Shhh, don’t say it so loud.” You both rise from the table and slide outside the restaurant, but not without the older lady sending you another wink.

As soon as the fresh air nips at your skin, you lean over in loud laughter. “Oh my goodness, I can’t.”

His vocoder cracks as his own laughs filter through. It’s a strong handsome laugh, one that is contagious and makes you stare at him with awe. In all honesty, you weren’t sure he knew how to laugh.

***

A knock sounds on your door and you rise up immediately. Crap! Mando is on the floor, that won’t look good to anyone. Grabbing anything you can, you throw it at the sleeping warrior.

Thump!

The first pillow does nothing.

Thump!

The second heavier one makes a louder sound but still draws no response from him.

The knocks sound again.

“Coming, just one second!”

You grab whatever you can and…

Clank!

You cringe as the water bottle hits him directly on the helmet.

He instantly rises and then the knocks sound again. Catching onto the problem, he stands up and starts throwing everything back on the bed.

You mean to help, but those strong golden thighs distract you. What you would give to be able to run your hand over those muscles and feel them ripple beneath your touch.

What you would give?

Nothing! You hate him! He’s annoying and snores loudly.

Shaking your head, you make the bed presentable and pretend to have just woken up as he opens the door.

“Hi!” The bounty’s fiancé peaks his head in. “Just wanted to let you all know that my mom made cinnamon rolls, I would get down there before they are gone. He offers a smile to you before walking back out into the hall.

You have no idea why, but the fiancé has taken a liking to the two of you. It almost makes you sad to collect his husband.

The Mandalorian turns to you and starts to grab his clothes and armor, dressing himself.

Suddenly you realize that if you both go down he’ll be unable to eat the cinnamon rolls. You play with the end of your shirt, the edges fraying from many years of you sleeping in it. “You know…” his visor looks up to you, “I can go get a couple and bring them back. That way you can try one and I’ll take a shower.”

Why did you say that? He’s not going to care. He’ll probably just laugh at you. In fact, why do you care?

He slowly nods his head after a minute. “That’d be nice.”

***

The hot water pours down onto your back and yet you can’t help but to ponder about the man outside the door. He’s out there, with his helmet off.

You’ve never cared about this before, but you start to wonder what he looks like. Does he have a soft boyish face or one of a hardened warrior? Is his hair a dark black or a light blond? What about his skin, is it light and fair, or deep and brown?

Thoughts run through your mind as you wrap the fluffy towel around yourself. Then you catch your reflection in the mirror. Since when have you had a small smile on your face?

Shaking your head, you slide your clothes on and open the door. You’re met with the back of a head, brown hair curly and shaggy rested atop a strong golden neck. Before you can even process what you’re seeing, you slam the door shut and lock yourself in the bathroom.

A soft knock sounds on the door. You slowly open it and keep your eyes trained on the floor. “I-, I only saw the back of your head, sorry.” Your body deflates as your shoulders drop in shame.

“It’s okay, but I need to pee.”

“Oh.” You shuffle out of the room and as soon as the door shuts you fling yourself onto the bed. Grabbing a pillow you press it against your face and scream. Why do these things always happen to you?

Why does his hair have to look so perfect to run your fingers through? Why does his neck have to be that perfect golden brown that you want to kiss? Why does he have to be so handsome?

***

As the wedding approaches, you have started to see the fierce warrior in a new light. He offers to help old ladies up stairs and jokes with the other young men. When asked about you, he speaks with so much adoration you have started to forget that he doesn’t actually love you.

Maybe you’re just being hyperaware, but he seems to always be watching you. When you turn your head to him, he already has his visor trained on you. Even when you’re across the room conversing with others he always has an eye on you.

His voice has become softer, losing the gruff edge it once held. The underlying anger having melted into a warm glow that surprised you both. A small smile seems to have made its home on both your faces, only leaving when one another isn’t around.

As the two of you lay awake, you on the bed, and the Mandalorian on the floor, you break the silence.

“I can’t do it.”

The Mandalorian makes no response, so you continue.

“I can’t take him. You’ve seen how happy they are together. How big they smile for one another and how their eyes soften. Sure he may have once been a spy but he’s changed. I mean since then his record is nearly perfect. I don’t want to be the one who tears his happiness away.”

Again, your companion says nothing.

“I know we need the money, so I can pull some strings and we can work stuff out. You won’t have to do anything, but I can’t let either of us come between them. I know it may be cheesy but what they have is a pure and true love.”

You fade back to silence, staring up at the dark ceiling and contemplating everything you just said.

“Okay.”

***

The wedding is big and bright. Garlands of beautiful flowers hang everywhere, matching the candles and lights perfectly.

And as the two men say their vows, you can’t help but entangle your arm around the Mandalorians. A single tear falls from your eye as you notice the way they look at one another. With so much passion and devotion, it’s the kind of love people wish for.

You don’t know it, but the Mandalorian's eyes don’t watch the two lovers, they instead watch you.

It’s in this moment that he finally understands why his heart swells when you’re around. He understands why he always needs to make sure you’re safe and sound. He understands why everything in him screams to wipe away your tears and hold you close.

Because he loves you.

***

You sit in silence, the Mandalorian piloting the Crest and you to his right. As the Crest falls into autopilot he turns to look at you.

When you meet his visor, you offer him a smile. “That was beautiful. I mean did you see how amazing the decor team did.”

He only nods heart heavy with anxiety.

You continue talking about all the aspects you loved, from the color scheme to the cake. But you stop when his hand rests on your own.

Tension lays thick between the two of you, suffocating and intense. You don't miss the way his adam apple bobs as he clears his throat.

“I- last week I was so furious at you. I loathed you. But, as we had to pretend things started to change. But…” his hand squeezes your own as you look up at him with wide eyes, “I didn’t realize any of this until I saw you on the wedding day. I couldn’t take my eyes off of you. And as you shed your tears I wanted nothing more than to be able to wipe them away and promise you comfort.”

He slides off the chair to rest on his knees before you.

“So, please… marry me. Because I want to be able to make you as happy as that bounty, I want to stand before you and say my vows with the pretty lights and amazing garlands. I want you.”

Your jaw hangs open as you draw on hand to cover it. Water wells up at the corner of your eyes as you replay his words over in your head.

Nodding your head frantically, you fall into his hold, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him close. “Yes… yes yes yes.”

One of his hands cups the back of your head while the other snakes around your waist. He chuckles as all his anxieties fade away.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So yeah I hope you liked it!

Please consider reblogging or leaving a comment. I love hearing what you all have to say.

Love, Lordy :)

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doublekrecs · 4 years ago

Text

Going Live

Spencer Reid x Reader

Synopsis: You're an intern for the FBI but double as a camgirl in your spare time. You thought you kept things pretty well under wraps but who knew one of your mentors watched you all along.

Warnings: smut, unprotected p in v action (remember to wrap it), face fucking, use of sex toys, tiny bit of degrading

a/n: writing this in the setting of season 10/11 because spencer looks so damn good and i wanted to include my girl tara

also part 2 of more than physics should be up later today! hope you enjoy -🧞‍♀️

You had been a paid intern for the FBI for about a year, paid being said lightly. But the job was definitely worth it. While being under the wing of the BAU you had not only learned so much about your hopefully future profession, but you had made a family with the team. Especially under the wing of Tara Lewis, she had been there for a little while but you looked up to her work and she was more than happy to offer advice and a good wine night.

The team knew you had a second job on the side but weren’t exactly sure what it was, just that you worked from home. They respected your personal life enough to stay out of it, however that didn’t stop Rossi from offering you a little extra because “that's what uncles are supposed to do”. You would always wave him off and say you could handle yourself, because you could.

You thoroughly enjoyed working. The money and gifts were obviously a big reward but there was always something so exciting about being on camera. Maybe it was how risque it was, being exposed for thousands to see. Or the fact that many were pleasuring themselves to the sight of you.

It was Friday night and you were getting your setup ready. You already had your outfit and glam on. Someone had sent you a set from your wishlist, lilac lace hugged your body in all the right places, accentuating all your assets and boosting your confidence. In your hair were the same color streaks you did with a tinting spray. You set the camera and laptop up in front of your bed. Silk sheets and plush pillows behind you where you could rest comfortably before your show started.

Little did you know across town Spencer Reid was getting ready to tune in to said show. He was never one for tech, having Garcia still hand him paper files and would refuse to upgrade his phone. He had gotten a computer just so he could video chat with doctors quickly about new medicine for his mother. However he quickly found out there was so much more the internet had to offer.

He had stumbled across your show one lonely night. Spencer couldn’t see himself going out to find a one night stand so the pleasure of his hand it was. He was looking through videos when he saw the thumbnail with a girl wearing glasses similar to the ones you wear when you forget contacts. His curiosity got the best of him and if he was a cat he’d be one life down. He couldn’t believe the sight on the screen in his lap.

There you were the bubbly intern, body trembling as waves of pleasure washed over you from the pink wand you held over your clit. He was delightfully flustered and the moans spilling from the computer’s speakers weren’t doing much to help.

He was entranced by you writhing in pleasure but was knocked back into reality after hearing you giggle. God he loved when you made that noise in the office, usually after fake flirting with Hotch or hearing about JJ’s boys. But this situation was totally different and if he was honest with himself he was very into it.

You reached over to grab a large pink dildo. Taking it in your mouth before swiping it through your folds. It easily slipped in and you started rapidly pumping it into you chasing your orgasm.

Spencer was too enthralled to even think about touching himself. He was using the gift which was his eidetic memory to the best of his ability to make this something he’d never forget.

You came with a loud moan, hips lifting and grinding against the toy to chase the friction. Quickly you turned off the wand and took the toy out. You sat up and looked into the camera before sucking it off. Spencer's eyes widened as he let out a groan shifting on his bed.

“Alright guys that was fun for tonight,” you said as you sat criss cross on the bed. “I didn’t think I’d be able to get to five.”

FIVE?? He thought in his head. He felt like he was gonna explode just watching those last few minutes. How was he supposed to last watching you make yourself cum five times.

“Thank you so much for all the tips and support! My links are all in the description and I’ll see you angels next Friday! Muahh” you signed off blowing the camera a kiss.

Spencer knew it was wrong of him to view a coworker in such an exposed light but he couldn’t help himself. So he spent the night viewing some of your old videos which brought him to what he swears to be the best orgasm of his life. Of course he sent gracious tips and made sure to buy little items off the wishlist, mentally noting to return every Friday night. Even if it meant hiding in the bathroom from Morgan in their shared hotel room on cases. That was two months ago.

Just as you finished your session the phone rang signaling a case. Quickly you got in the shower and put on comfy business clothes since you usually stayed with Garcia doing extra research and taking notes. You quickly grabbed your bag and keys, making your way straight to the office.

In the elevator you heard someone calling to keep it open. Spencer made his way in, buttoning his cardigan and adjusting his bag, quickly saying thank you. You pressed the button to the floor as you felt a pair of eyes on you. Looking over Spencer was eyeing you with a confused look on his face. You were about to question him when he spoke up first.

“I thought you had streaks in your hair”

“I did… Earlier tonight but they washed out.” He looked even more confused, then his brain put two and two together. He just realized what he had said. For a genius this wasn’t one of his brightest moments.

You looked at him amused as a deep blush spread from his neck to the tips of his ears. There was only one way someone would know about your quick hair change: by watching your show. The door to the elevator opened and you walked out giggling as he started sputtering apologies behind you. You quickly cut him off.

“Spence, it's alright. If you want we can talk about this later because right now you have a bad guy to catch. But may I suggest making your name something less obvious, not that I don’t love ‘magiclover187’.” He stood there mouth gaping as you patted his shoulder and walked up to the conference room to meet the rest of the team.

The case was one of the easier ones. Very minimal killing and the team was back by Tuesday morning, ready for a week of paperwork. Spencer had been dancing around you the whole time, he could barely keep eye contact with you and would rush to leave the room if you walked in. If he was this flushed around you with clothes on you could just imagine how much of a mess he would be when he watched you perform. Which brought an idea to your head.

Friday rolled around and you walked over to his desk where he was nose deep in one of his Russian books. You put your hand in it to bring it down. Once he noticed it was you he was about to start with another ramble of apologies when you stopped him.

“Alright I’m tired of the awkwardness and I want my friend back,” you said with a soft smile. “Why don’t you come over tonight and we can have that talk. I’ll even order a pizza and we can watch Doctor Who.”

“Y/n are you sure? I-I mean it is um uh Friday.. And ya know you usually film,” he said as he played with his tie.

You giggled at how nervous he was. Poor little genius didn’t know he was the only one with tricks up their sleeve.

“It’s fine I promise. Just a night with my favorite customer,” you said winking at him. He choked and looked around to see if anyone was looking at his outburst.

“I’m kidding.. Sort of,” you trailed off. “But I mean it about you coming over. I’m going home now but I expect you there in an hour with drinks.”

With that you turned around and walked off, adding a little extra sway to your hips. Obviously that did the trick as you heard a small groan behind you. Spencer dropped his head back as he started wracking his brain to figure out how to live through the night without making a bigger fool of himself or cuming in his pants.

You know maybe you were evil, you thought to yourself as you put on the finishing touches to your outfit for the night. Once you got home you sped into the shower to freshen up for him to come over and get your setup ready. You were wearing a cream colored strappy bodysuit. Over it was a large cardigan, almost resembling the maroon one he owned, strange. To top it off you were wearing your glasses and your legs were adorned with your favorite thigh high socks.

The three knocks on the door instantly made a smirk appear on your face. This might just be one of your best schemes yet. Looking through the peephole you saw Spencer gnawing on his bottom lip holding a few bottles of soda. Taking a deep breath you opened the door greeting him with all the casualty in the world.

“Hey! I’m glad you came, come in.”

He followed you in and tried to keep his eyes above your neck, trying to act like he wasn’t getting completely hard by just your outfit. You sat down on your couch and patted it for him to sit next to you. He took the seat and gulped not really sure what you had planned.

“Um how long for the pizza to get here?”

“The pizza’s not coming Spence,” you said shaking your head. “But you are.”

You leaned forward to place your hand on his on the couch. “I want you to fuck me on camera Spencer,” you said with sweet confidence, fluttering your lashes. His eyes kept flashing between your cleavage showing through the cardigan and your lips before finally landing on your eyes. He didn’t see a single hint of humor in them, nothing transparent but lust.

He pulled his hand from under yours to place in your hair, pulling you into a heated kiss. You pushed back on his chest a bit to try and get some air.

“Save that magic for the show,” you said as you pulled him up to lead to your bedroom.

The camera was set at a little bit of a lower angle. The audience would just be able to see you and at most Spencer’s chest. You had made sure it was fine and even turned it on as a test so he could see what he looked like. After you got everything out of the way you hit the button to go live and instantly people started flooding in. If the bulge in his pants told you anything, it was that he was excited to be on the other side of the screen this time.

“Hello my angels!” you said into the camera, Spencer was taken back at what was going on. After months of lusting over the young intern he was finally seeing the show in person.

“Today I have a special guest with me. My very good friend, the Doctor,” you took his hand to pull him into frame. “He’s very excited to be here,” you said, hand moving down to palm him through his pants.

His hand reached out and wrapped around your throat, making you look up at him. Huh. This was a new Spencer you wouldn’t mind seeing more often.

“Let's not play games princess. Or else the only thing making you cum tonight are your pathetic little fingers. Am I clear?”

You shivered at the intensity of his voice instantly trying to nod the best you could within his grip. He let go and you went back to task at hand, undoing his pants and pulling them down along with his boxers. He was long and pink. Precum already spilling out of the pretty tip, you couldn’t wait to have him in your mouth, among other places. You wasted no time in licking a broad stripe along a vein under it. His hand went to grab a handful of your hair giving it a testing tug as a warning to stop teasing.

Your hand went to grip what couldn’t fit in your mouth but you tried your best to take him all in. You could hear the pings of tips and comments being said. Spencer could too and leaned over slightly to read them.

“Face fuck her,” he murmured. He pulled you off of his cock and looked down into your eyes, “Is that what you want princess? Hm.” His thumb went to clean up the spit dripping down your chin before rubbing your lips. “You want me to fuck your face?”, he said in a condescendingly sweet voice.

“Yes Doctor please! Fuck my throat.”

“Good girl.”

Both his hands made their place nested in your hair, guiding you to his cock. He wasted no time in being brutal. Tears were leaking down your cheeks as he kept on hitting the back of your throat. Spencer was enjoying himself to the fullest letting out curses and praises at how good your mouth felt. He knew he wasn’t going to last much longer and you could feel it too as he started to throb in your mouth. He then pulled you off, a trail of spit connected from your lips and his cock.

“Such a dirty whore for me. Show everyone how messy I make you,” he took your head and made you turn to look in the camera. Comments pinged talking about how pretty you looked with mascara running and smudged lipstick.

“Thank them and ask if you deserve to cum on my cock,” Who knew Spencer had this in him. But you were loving every second of it and put on your best pair of puppy dog eyes to beg the camera for Spencer to split you in half. And you had no shame in doing so.

“Please let the Doctor fuck me. I’ve been such a good girl for you guys,” you pleaded into the camera. The audience was pleased with your begging as they said you deserved it for being so good.

Spencer took his time in unbuttoning the cardigan you had on, teasingly rubbing your arms as he slipped it off. His hands then went to the bodice of it, groping your breasts and teasing your nipples through the fabric.

“Ah shit doctor, please fuck me already.”

Who was he to deny you of such a thing when you asked so nicely. He pushed you back down on the silk sheets. Pulling you by your thighs to the end of the bed where he moved the thong of the bodysuit to the side and slid his cock up your folds. Lubricating it in your juices before slipping right in. You both gasped at the intrusion, his hands grabbing your hips with a force sure to leave bruises. He used the leverage to set a brutal pace, ramming his cock into you.

Your ears were ringing from the pleasure but you could hear the constant pings of your tip box and comment section flooding.

“Shit baby you’re so tight. Perfect little pussy squeezing me so good.” You babled off thank yous and whimpers from being so close to your climax.

You felt Spencer stop for a second and reach over to grab something. Then you felt it. Your wand set to the highest setting placed on your clit as he started to thrust into you again. Sounds of your moans and skin slapping together filled the room along with the buzzing of the vibrator. You were sure there was going to be a noise complaint notice on your door in the morning.

You were so close to having the bubble in your stomach burst and so was he.

“I'm gonna cum Doctor,” you practically yelled. “Please cum inside me!”

“Cmon princess. Let me feel you let go.”

With that the knot broke and you swore you died and went to heaven. Your walls squeezing Spencer led him to his end a little after you. Thrusts faltering and groaning at the feeling of pleasure washing over him. He turned off the wand and put it to the side before slipping out of you.

Looking into the camera you gasped at your appearance. Hair disheveled and face messy from crying in pleasure multiple times that night. Your mixed release leaking down your thigh and onto the sheets.

There were non stop pings of people calling Spencer a lucky bastard and asking for him to come back next Friday. Spencer nodded his head over to your bathroom to get you guys something to clean up with and let you do your closing.

“Thanks for the love tonight angels,” you said with a smile on your face, entirely blissed out. “As always the links are in the description and I’ll see you guys next Friday. Maybe I’ll talk to the Doctor about future appearances. Bye!”

With that you fell back on your bed and closed your eyes. Your body jolted at a sudden coldness between your thighs.

“Right sorry,” Spencer whispered.

“So where did that come from?” you looked at him with an eyebrow raised.

“A magician never reveals his secrets,” he stated seriously.

You giggled and took his hand, “Thanks for doing this with me.”

“Of course. Now why don’t you shower while I get us a pizza. For real this time.”

“Or we can shower together then call the pizza.”

He contemplated it before smiling at you, “You always have the best ideas.”

“Don’t I know it.. Doctor.”

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid headcanon #spencer reid hc #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #mgg x reader #mgg smut #mgg fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #criminal minds blurb #🧞‍♀️writes

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writer-ish · 4 years ago

Text

makai

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x f!MC (Dr. Brooke Spiers) Word Count: 3.4k Rating: 18+ (NSFW - minors dni) Author's Note: makai (mah-kigh) - one of the four key directions on Oahu, but used on all Hawaiian Islands; makai means "toward the ocean".

Premise: A follow-up fic to this text exchange. Ethan and Brooke meet for a little pre-planned Hawaiian rendezvous.

Hey, I’m here. Where you at?

Brooke taps out the message on her cell phone, keeping one eye on the almost-empty lobby.

It's late now - late for check-in, late for milling around, late, it seems, for Hawaii itself - and she'd be lying to herself if she said she wasn't feeling a bit sleepy—a bit like, maybe, she should be getting up for a six AM shift in Boston after having gotten a good seven hours of sleep the night before?

Rather than waiting for her elderly boyfriend to meet her for a late-night swim - and a little more, hopefully - after sleeping a total of five half-lucid hours on an airplane in the last twenty-four hour period.

She's about to text him again, when she hears a voice from behind her.

"Christ, enough with the texting already."

Whirling around, she can't help the grin that splits her cheeks at the sight of him. Without responding, she throws her arms around his neck, squeezing him in an impromptu hug. His hair is a little damp and appears freshly washed and there's the sharp, pleasant, and familiar smell of his cologne that she inhales when she presses her body to his.

He seems almost nonplussed at her public and spontaneous affection, his arms staying at his sides for a beat longer than they should, before he returns her embrace. She giggles as he even takes her for a half spin, kissing her neck before setting her down, hands lingering at her hips.

"Well, aren't you in a good mood," he comments, a smile playing at the corners of his lips.

She shrugs, giving him a cheeky grin. "It's nice to see you. Plus," she adds, taking his hand and interlocking her fingers with his as she starts to walk, "I'm in vacation mode, so you're going to a get a much better version of me for the next few days."

He allows her to lead him out of the lobby and to the stone pathway that will eventually take them down to the beach.

"I like the version I get at home," he remarks once they're in the open air, which smells like hibiscus and coconut and the reminiscent warmth of the sun still emanating from the stones.

As they walk, he tugs her closer and puts his arm over her shoulders. She smiles up at him as she wraps her arm around his waist. He returns it, staring down at her with an inscrutable look, but one that causes a bloom of warmth to start in her chest and work its way outwards.

"It's nice to be somewhere different, though." Resting her head on his shoulder, they continue to amble down the path. "I like us at home, too, but…" She trails off with a shrug. "We work a lot. And don't see each other outside of work enough. I mean, I thought with you suspended I'd at least get a date night, then you had to go and get your freaking job back!"

He throws his head back and laughs, a loud, head-shaking, self-deprecating thing.

"Oh god, I've really done you wrong, haven't I?"

"Yes!" she insists, though she can't stop her own giggles. "Not even a dinner out. Our first movie in months was on the private jet that Vik got me."

Ethan rubs his chin thoughtfully. "I haven't gotten you a private jet yet?"

"Nope." Her hair tosses against her cheeks as she shakes her head, unable to keep the smile off her face. She loves teasing him, she loves being away with him, she loves—she cuts her thoughts short and focuses on their banter. "For shame, sir."

He glances at her and she sees the heat in his gaze as she calls him "sir". She bites her lip and looks up at him innocently. His eyes go from hers down to her lip in an instant and she laughs again.

"You're like one of Pavlov's dogs, I swear." Breaking free from him, she jogs lightly ahead of him down the path, her sandals slapping the pavement with her movements. "Anyway, your old bones are slowing me down. Keep up!" She takes off towards the beach, her sundress whipping around her legs, even as she can hear his bit off curse from behind her.

"I'm not running!" he calls, his voice growing distant as she puts more space between them.

"Your loss!" she yells over her shoulder, before turning around and jogging backwards to tease him even more. She screams as she sees him gaining speed quickly and her shrieks turn into hysterical giggles as he ducks down and lifts her effortlessly over his shoulder, continuing on without breaking his stride.

She buries her face in the thin cotton of his shirt so that she doesn’t wake up all the other sleepy inhabitants of their resort with her giddy snorts, especially when he playfully smacks her butt as he carries her steadily to the beach. Soon, she feels his steps change as his feet sink into the soft sand.

"Wow." His voice is soft and, even though it's coming from somewhere near her rump, it still carries over to where she is, hanging securely off his shoulder.

"I want to see!" She squirms and he grips her bottom, holding her still as he reaches up with his other hand. She feels him wriggle his finger under the heel strap of her sandals and she stills, waiting as he removes first one and then the other. Leaning forward, he places her down gently and she immediately wiggles her toes in the warm, fine sand before whirling around to take in the view.

"Oh, wow," she breathes as well, because truly there isn't another word for it.

The moonlight reflects off the dark surface of the waves, illuminating the gentle ebb and flow of the tide. Dark shadows on the horizon appear to be mountains or something in the distance - she hadn't had a chance to check out the beach in the daytime upon their arrival, so she's just seeing it now for the first time, perhaps not in all its colourful splendour, but still, majestic and beautiful in its own right.

And the stars - Brooke can't remember the last time she'd seen so many of them. They sparkle in the inky blue firmament like someone had tossed an infinity of tiny diamonds on a velvet tray. She breathes in the salty sweet air deeply as her and Ethan take in the view together, silently, for a moment.

"Thank you for asking me to come here with you," Ethan says quietly, eyes still on the sea and the sky. "I didn't realize how much I needed this… this quiet beauty. This moment of serenity."

She quirks a smile at him, taking his hand in hers. He looks down at their intertwined fingers and then back up at her face, his eyes warm and soft, the pale blue glistening in the moonlight.

"I did," she tells him simply with a little shrug, still smiling up at him.

He looks at her for another beat, his eyes conveying a message that only her heart understands, then he turns to her, stroking her cheek softly with his knuckles, before leaning in to place a soft kiss on her lips.

She cups his cheeks in her hands and returns it, keeping it soft, sweet, open-mouthed and warm. After a moment, she pulls back and looks up at him, the smile back on her face. It’s silly, but it almost feels like a permanent fixture tonight; one she can't get rid of even if she tries.

He’s watching her again, eyes heavy and heated, even in the glowing light of the moon. He slides his thumbs over her cheekbones in a light caress. "Brooke, I—"

Even though they’ve gone down this road many times before - the incomplete sentences, the longing looks, the words that are felt but not said - Brooke still feels her breath catch and her heart rate increase as she waits.

They stay suspended like that for a moment, the waves and the moon their only companions, when suddenly the call of a night bird, tropical and unfamiliar, breaks them from their reverie.

Ethan looks up and Brooke looks away, disappointed - though not surprised - that the moment got away from them again without any new revelations.

“Looks like we have company,” Ethan remarks, his voice carefully composed, even as he pulls her closer, rubbing her bare arms with his hands.

“Well,” Brooke replies, still determined to make this a good night, “as long as our only company is avian...” She pulls away from him, reaching up and teasing at the straps of her sundress. “What do you say we go for a swim?”

Biting back a smirk, he looks back and forth across the long expanse of beach. Her gaze follows his, ensuring along with him that they truly are alone. As much as she thrives on the spontaneity of a moment like this, she'd rather not have any of their colleagues - or any guest for that matter - see her naked. Which is exactly what she plans on being in due course.

“Looks pretty quiet.” His gaze locks in on hers again. “No?”

She nods, teeth catching at her bottom lip as she slowly backs up towards the water, pulling the straps of her dress down to fall on her upper arms. “Indeed it does, Dr Ramsey.” She pulls one arm out and then the other, leaving the dress clinging to the tops of her breasts. She continues to step backwards until her feet hit the shoreline, warm, frothy waves caressing her ankles. She laughs in delight and looks down, sliding around in the wet sand.

Ethan is closing in on her, his shirt already off. She sees he’s holding her sandals and his shoes in one hand, shirt slung over his arm.

“How’s the water?” he asks, though his eyes are still on the beach, as though he’s looking for something.

When she realizes his apparent destination, she can't help but shake her head fondly - he's walked over to one of the resort chairs, stacked up neatly for the evening, and is placing their shoes and his shirt on the pile.

Heaven forbid they get sand on them, she thinks, unable to stop the swell of affection she feels for her fastidious man.

Making her way over to him, she shimmies the dress up and over her head.

“Space for one more thing?” she asks innocently waiting for him to turn to look at her.

When he does, she gets immediate gratification at his dumbstruck look.

She had foregone a bra completely, so she watches as he takes her in from head to toe, nipples already stiffening in the exposed night air and under his gaze. She'd also pulled out the "special occasion" underwear, a lacy, boy-cut confection that she knew he'd appreciate.

And by the look in his eyes, he seems very appreciative.

Smiling cheekily, she shimmies down the underwear as well, tossing it to him before wading further into the water.

For all her bravado, standing stark naked on a public beach for longer than thirty seconds stretches the limits of her comfort, so it feels nice to seek both warmth and privacy in the languid tropical waves.

She had almost been worried that the water would be cold, but instead it's the perfect temperature - just nice enough to submerge herself in without feeling like she's entering a frigid bath. She wades out a bit deeper until the water just skims the top of her breasts and she turns in time to see Ethan entering the water.

Her heart picks up speed as she admires him, his naked, muscular body limned by the moonlight, walking into the ocean like some sort of reverse Poseidon, his eyes fixated on her and her alone.

Brooke shivers in a way that has nothing to do with water temperature, goosebumps lifting the fine hairs on her arms as she waits for him to get to her. The anticipation is sweet, but not as sweet as seeing him up close, smiling down at her as he collects her in his arms.

Their naked bodies slide together and she instinctively wraps her legs around his waist, feeling his arousal at the crux of her body. She kisses his neck, his jaw, his cheek, as his hands glide down to her bottom to lift her higher.

"This is nice," she murmurs, twining her arms tighter around his neck.

He hums in agreement, stroking her back up and down with one hand as they quietly watch the moon ripple on the horizon.

"I love touching you like this." He presses a kisses to her shoulder, squeezes her tighter. "If I could keep you this way, naked, pressed up against me, your skin on mine—if I could hold you like this forever, I would do it."

"Might be difficult to get work done." Her response is flippant, but his words have struck a chord deep inside her and her heart twangs painfully at the implications.

He snorts. "I don't care. Who needs work."

She pulls back to look at him, affecting a look of shock. "I'm sorry, who are you, and what have you done with Dr. Ethan Ramsey?"

He shakes his head, burying his face in her neck. When he speaks again, his words are muffled against her skin. "Dr. Ramsey has learned more in the past three years than in any of the previous years combined." He pulls back to look at her, one hand still holding her against him securely, the other pushing her damp waves back from her face. "Learned and grown and just—" He shakes his head before continuing. "Just tried to be better. To do better. Thanks to you." He kisses her and she can taste the salt on his lips.

"I can't take all the credit," she whispers against his mouth as they pull apart after a beat.

"Why not?" he whispers back, pressing another salty kiss to her lips. "You do it all the time at work anyway."

"Hey—!" She pulls away indignantly. "It's not my fault I’m the only one who can actually solve our cases—"

He laughs loudly and spins her around, making her lose track of her indignation as she dissolves into helpless giggles.

The warm water swirls over their bodies and she tightens her arms and legs around him. Her giggles inadvertently turn into a soft moan as she feels him, hard against her centre, settled right between her spread legs.

He tucks a kiss below her ear, nipping lightly at her pulse. "I want you so bad," he murmurs, sucking gently on the spot where he bit.

"So what are you waiting for," she breathes, her head lolling back as her hips move restlessly, her body stroking wetly against his length.

"Not in here," he groans, "the bacteria—not good for your—" He grunts as she presses more tightly against him, continuing to rub intimately in a way that has them both moaning.

"Have I ever told you—" She gasps, her breath coming out in short pants. "—how hot it is when you say the word 'bacteria' during sex?"

His response is a muffled groan into her shoulder as her jerky movements become more frantic, chasing the climax that has been inevitable since the first touch of salt water on her bare skin.

It's an odd sensation, the languid warmth of the ocean surrounding them while a different, more intimate, kind of wetness grows between. She misses the feel of him inside her during a moment like this, but there is something strangely, captivatingly erotic about making love this way. Their bodies sliding together in a new sort of intimacy, his rigid heat captured between her velvety folds.

“Ethan, I—” Her voice catches and his fingers tighten on her bottom, holding her to him in a way that hits that exact spot she needs it to. "Ah—ah!" She feels her muscles clench as a wave of pleasure crests…then crashes down over her. She lets out a moan, throwing her head back, the movement lifting her half out the water. Her nipples hit the cooler night air as her breasts emerge from the sea, and the feel of it in contrast to her climax sends prickles of sensation across her skin.

Ethan ducks down, kissing between her breasts as his hips jerk and finally still. He lets out a long groan through clenched teeth and she feels a bloom of warmth between them as she holds his head tightly against her chest. She can feel her heart pounding and his heartbeats echo hers from where his chest is pressed, closer to her stomach.

They hold each other for a protracted beat, the only sounds the crashing waves and their ragged breaths.

"Would you consider that," she finally says, still slightly breathless, "acceptable for my pH balance?"

He snickers deeply into her skin as he wraps his arms around her tighter before releasing her slowly. She allows her body to dip back and float leisurely on the bobbing waves. Letting out a contented sigh, she looks up at the stars, her eyes catching on a streak of light separate from the rest.

"Look!" She sits up quickly and grabs Ethan's arm, pointing at the sky.

He looks up as well and they watch as two, three stars make a quick descent from their position, a trail of sparkles in their wake.

"I've never seen a shooting star," she breathes, mesmerized.

He doesn't reply, so after a minute she glances over at him. He's staring at her, a soft smile tilting the corners of his lips. She can't see his face that well, even in the bright glow of an almost-full moon, but she recognizes the gentleness in his expression, the curve of his cheek as the shadow of a dimple barely appears.

She loves him so much.

She loves him so much that her heart aches with it, like a balloon that's about to pop or a cup that's overflowing.

She loves him for all his flaws, for all his hubris, for the ways he tries to be so good, and for all the ways he fails.

Her eyes well up as she looks at him, the words yearning to tumble from her lips. To tell him that she's always on his side. That he's hers, no matter what. There's no one else and there never will be.

That this is it, for her.

Instead she smiles back at him, albeit a little tremulously, and she leans forward, pushing off with her feet as she wades back to the shore.

He follows her quietly and they dress quickly, clothes awkward and difficult to tug onto their still-wet bodies.

As she grabs her sandals and goes to walk, he grabs her hand to stop her and pulls her into his arms.

They stand there for a bit, quiet and still, and Brooke feels all the little moments that have brought them here swirling around them in a hopeful nostalgia; the promise of things to come, built on a foundation of what they've surpassed.

"Time to sleep?" She looks up at the rumbling sound of his voice, blinking her eyes tiredly without even having realized just how tired she was.

"Mmm," she agrees, pulling away. "Your room or mine?"

He looks askance at her and she groans good-naturedly. "Fine, we'll be good. But see if you last more than one night without me. Just see!" She pokes his shoulder and grins at him and he catches her hand and holds it tightly against his chest, over his heart.

"Meet me for coffee tomorrow morning?" He brings her hand up to his lips and presses a kiss to the palm. "Hawaii has the best—"

"Yes, yes, I know, you talked my ear off about it on the plane, I remember." She shakes her head. "You're so boring I literally don't know how I stand you."

He grins at her and shrugs good-naturedly as they begin the slow walk back to the resort. "I try not to tempt fate too often by asking that very same question."

"Probably for the best." She tilts her head onto him and he drapes his arm around her shoulders. They meander down the path, away from the ocean, in comfortable silence.

She knows, deep down, how he feels about her. And if the final show of her loyalty to him is for her to wait until he's ready to tell her, well, then—

She'll wait.

#open heart #ethan ramsey #open heart fanfic #ethan ramsey x mc #open heart third year #oph 3 #playchoices open heart #nsft #mature #soft ethan is soft #we know how he feels #and so does brooke #can't wait to hear it for real

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morganaspendragonss · 4 years ago

Text

tell me where it hurts

Carlos stands as Owen and Gwyn leave, heading over to the bed and laying a tentative hand on the railing. TK smiles dopily up at him, eyes halfway to closed, and Carlos has to grin at the sight.

“Only you could make a hospital gown look cute."

tk and carlos, sharing a quiet moment

ao3 | 1.4k | 2.08

Carlos stands as Owen and Gwyn leave, heading over to the bed and laying a tentative hand on the railing. TK smiles dopily up at him, eyes halfway to closed, and Carlos has to grin at the sight.

“Only you could make a hospital gown look cute,” he says, shaking his head. TK’s smile widens, and he lazily reaches out, lacing their fingers together.

“You think I’m cute?”

“Don’t let it go to your head.” Carlos huffs a laugh, glancing down to their joined hands before meeting TK’s eyes again. He leans in and presses a gentle kiss to his lips. “I should head out too,” he says softly. “You need to rest.”

Carlos tries to pull away, but TK frowns and holds on tighter. “What do you mean?” he asks, pouting.

“You said your head was hurting,” Carlos replies, “and you practically kicked your parents out. I figured you’d want some peace and quiet.”

TK shakes his head, though it’s more just a gentle roll on the pillow. “From them, yeah,” he says. “I want you here. That is...if that’s okay?”

He bites his lip, looking at Carlos anxiously, and Carlos’s heart aches for the hundredth time that day. He can’t think of anywhere else he’d rather be; god knows he won’t be able to sleep at home, knowing TK is laid up in hospital and not by his side.

“Of course it is.” He kisses TK’s head, mindful of his wound, and goes to grab the chair, but once again TK pulls him back. Carlos frowns, only for his eyes to widen as TK awkwardly shifts to the right and stares pointedly at the space next to him. “No.”

“Carlos,” TK whines, pulling out the puppy dog eyes - which Carlos will not fall for again. Not tonight, anyway.

“TK,” he mimics. “That bed is barely big enough for you, there’s no way -”

“Carlos, get your damn ass up here or I’m dragging you up.”

Carlos manages to hold firm for a few seconds more, but so does TK, and he knows there’s no way he’s winning this one. The only sensible thing to do is to comply, because TK has that look in his eye that lets him know he will attempt to drag Carlos up given half the chance, and he could really do without his boyfriend causing himself further harm. He heaves an exaggerated sigh, then gingerly sits on the edge on the bed, swinging his legs up and laying back slowly. He was right - there really isn’t enough room, and it’s a little awkward, but they make it work.

TK smiles at him, their faces barely an inch apart. “Hey.”

“Hi.”

Carlos reaches out, stroking TK’s cheek with the back of his hand. TK’s eyes flutter shut, and Carlos is content to watch him for a while, feeling his own eyelids grow heavy as the day catches up to him. He’s on the verge of drifting off when TK speaks again, voice slurred with exhaustion.

“Thank you for rescuing us.”

“Always. Though, try not to make a habit of needing it,” he jokes.

TK’s eyes crack open, bright with mirth. “I’ll try,” he laughs, then winces, letting out a pained grunt.

Carlos immediately sobers, searching his boyfriend’s face. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah,” TK says. “It hurts, but I can handle it.”

Carlos sighs, pulling back slightly to get a proper look at him. “I don’t just mean your head, Ty,” he says. “I mean, are you okay? Your mom said you shut down earlier.”

TK’s smile drops and, for the first time since his parents left, he turns his head away from Carlos, gaze going blankly to the ceiling. His hand - the one not still held in Carlos’s - picks at the thin hospital sheets, rubbing the material between his thumb and forefinger. Carlos keeps watching him, knowing that TK will talk in his own time.

“It was just a lot,” he starts eventually, sighing heavily. “You know, I really thought that things were finally working out - that we actually had a second chance at being a real family. I mean, I can’t really remember a time in my life when my parents weren’t arguing, and I’ve spent years hoping and praying for an opportunity just like this one. I guess I got too attached to the idea, and blinded myself to everything else that was going on because when I got home and saw those boxes…”

He breaks off and squeezes his eyes shut, a lone tear rolling down his cheek. Carlos aches to brush it away, but he holds back, sensing that the touch wouldn’t be welcome.

“When I saw the boxes,” TK continues, clearing his throat, “it felt like I was seven years old all over again. My family was imploding and no-one had given me any warning or told me why, and I was just there, watching it all happen. And then Mom told me about the baby, and Enzo, and I just - I just couldn’t process it. Like, at all. I know it’s stupid and - and childish to still be clinging onto this...fantasy of my family, but I just. I really wanted this to work, you know?”

TK’s voice cracks, and he looks back to Carlos, unshed tears glinting under the hospital fluorescents. This time, Carlos does reach out, gently running his thumb under TK’s eye, and he leans in to press a kiss to his brow, just underneath the gauze.

“It’s not stupid,” he murmurs, smiling sadly. “It’s okay to be upset over this, Ty, you know that, right?”

TK shrugs. “I guess.” He breathes out shakily, blinking hard. “I will miss her. But after today… I mean, I was joking when I compared them to that couple, but there’s nothing like getting kidnapped at gunpoint and held hostage to put things in perspective. Not even getting shot.”

Carlos laughs despite himself - despite the reminder of just how close he came to losing TK yet again. He shakes his head and kisses him again, lightly swatting at his hip. “Do me a favour and try not to test that theory, babe.”

“No promises.” TK grins impishly before it softens into something gentler, and it’s his turn to reach out to Carlos. His hand brushes his cheek, travelling downwards along his arm to wrap around his wrist, right on Carlos’s pulse point. “Speaking of parents, how are things with your dad?” he asks. “Is the investigation still going on?”

Carlos shrugs. “Yeah, but considering that I was right about everything, I don’t think they can build much of a case against me. Hopefully, I’ll be back soon.”

“Good,” TK says, his face flooding with a pride that warms Carlos’s chest. “If they don’t, I guess I’ll have to march down there myself and let them all know what idiots they’re being.”

Carlos raises an amused eyebrow. “Not that I wouldn’t appreciate it,” he replies, “but if you think you’re marching anywhere anytime soon, you’re very much mistaken. They might be releasing you from this bed in the morning, but I intend to keep you in mine for at least the next week.”

TK grins. “Is that a promise, Officer Reyes?”

“It’s a threat,” he corrects, but he can’t keep from grinning back, a comfortable silence falling between them. TK shuffles down in the bed to rest his head carefully against Carlos’s shoulder, and Carlos lays his arm across his chest, pressing a kiss into his hair.

“He wants to meet you, by the way,” he murmurs. “My dad.”

TK shifts against him, his head tilting upwards slightly. “You told?”

“He told me, actually,” Carlos says, huffing a small laugh. “Apparently he’s known about us since the market.”

“And…” TK’s fingers fiddle with his, the silence drawing out a few seconds longer. “Are you okay with that?”

“It was a surprise,” he admits. “But I’m glad it’s all out in the open now. I didn’t realise how much it was weighing on me until now.”

TK hums, squeezing Carlos’s hand once before settling into his side again. “I’m glad,” he says, voice muffled from sleep.

“Me too.” Carlos kisses TK’s head. “Get some rest, Ty.”

He doesn’t need to say it twice; TK is dead to the world not five minutes later, snoring gently. Carlos stifles a laugh, and eases himself into a more comfortable position, his own eyes drifting closed.

That’s how the nurses find them a few hours later, entwined around each other, and at peace.

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athenadione · 4 years ago

Text

‘you are mine (and I am yours)’

In which you can find out the hard way that demons don't like sharing. @vi-la-vi

AthenaDione and I did a thing! Everyone loves jealous Damian, but hear us out....jealous Raven? Hope you enjoy! -Vi

I’m so incredibly honored to participate in this collab. Vi practically paved the way for me to give you all the delicious demon Raven smut that ensues and did a superb job writing the majority of this piece, as always. If you enjoy and feel so inclined, you can leave a kudos HERE on A03. Vi— thank you for allowing me to be a part of your writing process. You’re such a talented writer and I’m happy to have found you :) -AD

She couldn’t stop staring at him. Not just because it had been years since she last saw him, but because ever since she met him, Anna Vandergilt had thought of little else.

Damian Wayne.

They’d met at a benefit when both were sixteen years old, and it had been love at first sight. The elusive heir finally returned to Gotham after five years abroad, doing god knows what. She’d collected every bit of information she could about him, academic transcripts, tabloids, medical and legal records. Vandergilt influence ran deep and she had no compunction about using it to fuel her obsession. Securing an internship at Wayne Enterprises as Tim Drake’s assistant was just the latest step.

And now he’s here, and I won’t let him get away again.

Damian had to remember her, the spark when their eyes met, the unbreakable connection they’d made. He didn’t acknowledge it when they were introduced, but that was fine. He was an intense, secretive man and likely just didn’t want to make a scene.

Green eyes flashed to hers and narrowed, catching her staring. She willed herself to keep it together, sitting up straighter and crossing her legs in an attempt to draw his attention to the slit in her pencil skirt. Blonde-haired, blue-eyed, and leggy, she knew how to make men stare.

Or so she thought. Damian had turned his attention back to Tim’s presentation, arms crossed and expression impatient. So serious. She planned ways she might be able to get him alone, with no one and nothing to distract him from her. After today, I’ll have more than just fantasies. She’d been looking for an opening to approach him all day and was sure she couldn’t wait much longer.

They broke for lunch, but just as she moved towards him she was intercepted by Tim.

“Hey Anna, can you run up to my office and grab my blue flash drive? I forgot to bring it down earlier.”

Get it yourself! she wanted to snap. An assistant position was well beneath her pedigree, and she hated taking instructions from common-born Tim Drake. Swallowing her irritation, she smiled and nodded.

When she finally returned, Damian had already gone, apparently having had a lunch appointment with someone else. Anna sighed. I’ll speak to him after work, I’m sure he wouldn’t say no to dinner and drinks. No man had ever refused her.

She spied him later as she was returning to the conference room, speaking to a dark-haired woman she didn’t know outside of his office. She took a moment to admire him in his suit, noting curiously that the girl with him was only casually dressed in black jeans and an off-shoulder top with a band logo. Unprofessional much? He’s probably scolding her about the dress code.

Just as the thought solidified, she leaned up and pressed a kiss to the underside of Damian’s jaw, tugging his tie playfully as she did so.

It was as though a bucket of freezing water had been dumped over her head. Anna stood stock-still, mouth falling open in horror. Who the fuck...how dare…?

The woman whispered something in his ear, kissing his jaw again as Damian rolled his eyes and smirked. She continued to stare, waiting for him to shove her away, glare, do something. She heard someone approach from behind.

“Ugh, those two,” Tim groaned.

“Who is that?” Her voice was tight and strained, and the man next to her gave her a curious glance.

“That’s Rachel, Damian’s girlfriend.”

“Oh,” she said, at a loss for anything else.

It’s not fair. I planned...I’ve been waiting…

She shook her head, determination moving in. A minor setback. He just needs to know there’s something better on the market. Vandergilts were practically royalty, after all. Her beauty and breeding were no doubt superior. She bit back her anger as Damian dropped a kiss on the other woman’s forehead before walking away.

Just a minor setback, she mentally repeated.

Tim’s assistant had a serious staring problem, and Damian was relieved when he was finally able to retire to his office. Annoying. The older man had joked earlier that Damian’s constant absence in Gotham and avoidance of the public eye elevated him to mythical status among some of his father’s employees. He longed for this week to end, eager to be back in Jump and away from the Wayne gawkers.

His phone buzzed, distracting him from the revenue charts in front of him.

“Stephanie is insane.”

Damian smiled, eyes darting to his watch to see how much longer he’d be stuck in this office. As necessary as it was that he be here for the audit, he felt bad abandoning Raven to his siblings. Next time they came to Gotham he’d make sure it was purely recreational and personally show her the sights.

“A half hour more, then I will come rescue you.”

Then two days more, and they would be home.

A knock on the door called his attention. “Mr. Wayne? Could I borrow you for a moment. I need a second pair of eyes on this file.”

He looked up, raising an eyebrow at the worshipful expression on her face. The scent of expensive perfume assailed him and Damian fought the urge to wrinkle his nose. She looked at him hopefully, blinking rapidly.

“Ask Drake.”

She shifted, reaching up to toy with her platinum blonde hair. “Oh...he just has so much on his plate. I wanted to avoid bothering him,” she replied, voice high and lilting.

Strange woman. Damian wondered where his older brother had found this one. He hadn’t really been paying attention when they were introduced, Vander-something or other.

He sighed. “Fine.”

“Oh, thank you,” she breathed.

She circled around the desk to stand next to him, laying the file in front of him and bending low. A fall of blonde hair brushed his shoulder and Damian shifted slightly to put some distance between them. He spent so little time in normal society it was easy to forget how bad most people were with personal space.

“What exactly did you need help with?”

“This.”

Without warning, she sat on his lap and pressed her lips forcefully against his, throwing one arm around his neck for good measure. Damian completely froze, protests firing rapidly through his mind. She tugged on the waistband of his pants and it was enough to break his paralysis. He shoved her off of him violently and she caught herself on the desk, shifting it several inches back.

“What are you doing?!”

The alarm on her face lasted only a second before being replaced with a coy smile. “Don’t be shy, I know you remember me. It’s been years, but you’re all I’ve thought about, Damian. I swear.”

“I - don’t…” Damian felt uncharacteristically frazzled. “I have - no. I’m not interested,” he finally managed.

“Please, Damian.” She tried to take a step forward and he instinctively backed away. He hated the way she said his name, he realized distantly.

“I have a girlfriend,” he said, hard edge in his voice. One who would kill you and probably me if she was here right now. Raven did not share.

The woman sniffed. “Her. Don’t be ridiculous, you’re a Wayne. She can’t possibly-”

“Enough.”

He glared fiercely, daring her to try and continue. Tears swam in her blue eyes and Damian felt a touch of relief that he finally managed to get through.

“I...hmph, fine. Keep her on the side if you must. My father had a mistress. Just keep her out of my sight.”

She’s insane. What the fuck kind of vetting process do you have, Drake?

He closed his eyes and exhaled before meeting her watery gaze once again.

“Listen very carefully. I. Am. Not. Interested. I want you out of this building in the next five minutes or I’ll call security.”

“I - but - we…” She straightened, eyes glassy with disbelief as she tried to compose herself. “I see.”

Damian kept his glare on as she left the room, feeling a headache build behind his eyes. He grabbed his phone again, feeling a pang of guilt when he saw Raven's name, and called his brother.

"I fired your assistant. You're welcome."

"What? Damian, you can't just show up and start firing people!"

"I'll...explain later." Vaguely, and with as few details as I can manage.

The hint of discomfort in his voice must have given him away. "Seriously? No wonder she was staring at you all day.”

"Drop it."

"Alright, alright. Her dad's going to be pissed though, he pushed Bruce for months to take her on here. Sounds like you got your very first stalker."

Well that was a disturbing thought. Damian shook it off. "Just tell him it didn't work out." He didn't want any rumors getting back to Raven if he could help it.

Lying to an empath is easier said than done.

“There’s something you’re not telling me.”

"I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She snorted disbelievingly, eyes glued on the book in her hand. “Why do you feel so guilty?”

“It was a long day. I felt bad for you.” Half-truths were the only semi-effective way he’d found of getting around her lie detector. Normally Damian would smother inconvenient questions with lips, hands, and other parts of him that Raven was always deliciously responsive to, but touching her would have felt wrong right now. She deserved to know the truth before she decided how near she wanted him.

She rolled onto her side then, burrowing down against her pillow and studying him curiously. “You don’t have to spend every second with me, Damian. I’m pretty self-sufficient, in case you haven’t noticed.”

He shrugged, laying back and closing his eyes. “I’ll just be glad to get out of here. People in Gotham are a different breed.”

Raven hummed. “Fine, don’t tell me what’s actually bothering you.”

With that, she leaned over to kiss him goodnight. Damian flinched at the contact before responding in kind, and pretended he didn’t see the confused look in her eyes.

“I love you,” he said, focusing the emotion to make sure she felt it as well.

She closed her eyes, slightly mollified. “I love you, too.”

I'll tell her when we get home, he promised himself. As much as he hated keeping secrets, he knew she was going to be upset and preferred a controlled setting. Damian remembered an incident shortly after they began dating when the ticket-taker at the theater had slipped him her phone number. Raven said nothing at first, but the night ended in a supply closet instead of a screening room.

"I don't share," she whispered dangerously, legs tightening around his hips to draw him in deeper. Red flickered across her purple irises. “You’re mine.”

He smirked at the memory. We never did get to see that movie.

Definitely safer for all involved to wait until they'd left Gotham.

Anna stared at her discreetly from the park bench. He’s loyal, that’s all. And I wouldn’t have him any other way.

She grudgingly admitted to herself that the other woman was pretty, if unconventional. Pale purple eyes and dark purple hair - hadn’t anyone told her the punk rock look was out of date? She had nothing on the blonde’s classical beauty.

A hefty bribe to the Wayne's chauffeur had given her knowledge of the woman's - Rachel's - movements throughout the day. She was ordinarily accompanied by Tim's banshee of a girlfriend and one of Bruce's orphans, but had separated from them earlier in the day to visit Gotham’s Arts District. Anna waited until she saw her enter the nearly empty arboretum before making her move. If Damian couldn’t be persuaded to break things off, this one could. An affair with the office hottie - tale as old as time.

“Pardon me?” She adopted a nervous affect as she approached, eyes downcast. “You’re Rachel, right?”

The other woman tore her gaze from the plaque in front of her, violet eyes locking on baby blue. “Do I know you?”

“Anna. I work - worked at Wayne Enterprises. I’m really sorry to do this, but...there’s something you need to know.”

She regarded her silently and the blonde fought the urge to fidget. There's something off about her. What were you thinking, Damian? Finally, Rachel nodded once, crossing her arms. Anna smiled internally and fiddled anxiously with her hands, doing her best to look miserable.

“I was Tim’s assistant until Damian fired me yesterday,” she began, voice weepy. “Tim’s the one who told me about you, I swear I didn’t know before.”

Rachel’s eyes narrowed, something dark and inscrutable flashing in and out of her gaze. “...Excuse me?”

Anna took the low anger in her voice as an encouraging sign and continued. She dropped her eyes again and let out a harsh sob. “I’m not the kind of person who fools around with other women’s boyfriends, and-"

A massive burst of black and red interrupted her thoughtfully planned speech, demolishing the stone plaque next to them and knocking her to the ground. She screamed, covering her head with her arms. A bomb? What’s happening?

Before she could get her bearings, something hauled her up by the throat, slamming her painfully against a tree. She blinked against the white spots in her vision and the dust in the air, squinting to see what held her.

Four slitted golden eyes met her own, radiating fury so thick she could almost taste it. I’m seeing things. I hit my head and I’m seeing things. The devil tightened its hold on her neck and stepped closer, heat pouring off its red skin. Terrified beyond anything she’d ever felt, Anna felt her bladder let go.

“Did you fuck Damian?” it - she - asked in a deadly calm voice.

“Wh-what?” she croaked. No way...what the fuck is she?!

“Answer, mortal.”

She sobbed in her grasp, all her carefully crafted lies flying away in the wake of her terror. “No! I just kissed him!”

The claws (claws?!) around her neck tightened and she felt warm trickles of blood start to seep down into her collar.

“That - that’s all! That’s all I did! I’m sorry!” she cried, “I’m so sorry! It won’t happen again!”

“I know.”

Shadows wrapped around the two of them and she screamed.

Stupid, stupid woman, Damian thought furiously, raising his eyes from the weeping figure on the floor. He’d put it together fairly quickly after walking in the door, and was currently kicking himself for not considering this possibility. She’s clearly deranged, I shouldn’t be surprised she approached Raven.

The woman in question sat in a nearby armchair, looking every bit the queen of hell she was. Her demonic appearance and the regal way she carried herself in this form lent their mundane bedroom at Wayne Manor the feel of some macabre court.

“Something to confess?” his demoness asked lowly.

“I was going to tell you when we returned home. This is the exact situation I was trying to avoid.” Sparks of black and red magic at her fingertips told him that was the wrong thing to say.

“You think a couple hundred miles would have saved her from me when I found out? I would cross entire universes.”

The woman before her seemed to curl in further on herself, as if trying to become a smaller target. Prayers fell from her lips, whispered and unintelligible.

“She’s not worth it. I would have made you see that.”

“That’s not your decision to make. You are mine, this was a challenge to me. A proper demon would have brought just the head.”

A loud wail met her words and golden eyes flicked downwards, oozing contempt. Damian felt a thrill race down his spine. He'd never seen her this angry - possessive. The idea that he was the catalyst, that his composed, serene Raven was burning so brightly over a stolen kiss made his blood tingle.

Apparently feeling the weight of the demon’s stare, she covered her head with her hands and tried to choke back her cries. A prey-like instinct to hide taking root.

He swallowed before speaking, mindful of the thin ice he was on. “I know you’re upset, but you can’t kill her.”

An amused sound escaped her, and Damian wasn’t entirely sure how to interpret it. “Beloved?”

She finally met his eyes again, clearly unhappy with the situation. “Fine. But if I ever see or sense this creature near you again, I will tear her apart slowly. Testor ego eam.”

With that, she waved a hand and the other woman vanished in a rush of black. He didn’t bother to ask where, not wanting to push his luck with Raven right now. Hysterical as the other woman was, no one would believe anything she had to say anyways.

The demoness crossed her arms, studying him silently. She seemed to have no intention of changing back to her human form. Oh.

“I suppose I’m in trouble as well?”

“Lies deserve punishment. And you need to be reminded who you belong to.”

“You, habibti. Always.”

Her smile offered nothing but trouble and his heart started to pick up. "That’s a start."

“Oh?” he asked her, not moving from the spot where he stood. It seemed that court was still in session, and her final judgement on his own transgressions had not yet passed.

She picked at a claw unhurriedly, hooded eyes flicking over his figure. Not one to back down, he met her appraising stare inch for inch.

“Did you know that demons mate for life?” she asked without warning.

“No, beloved,” he breathed. The information was new but it hardly mattered. He had already decided that he was going to spend the rest of his life with her long before they ended up together. He just wondered why she felt it necessary to mention now.

“It’s a sacred bond. Actually sacred, unlike human marriages. Challenging it is the worst insult one demon can deal to another.” Her eyes narrowed, and her claws seemed to sharpen before his eyes.

“She wasn’t a-”

“No one will threaten our bond. Do you understand, mate?”

Dear gods.

He resisted the urge to lick his lips, instead pressing them firmly together. “You should know that you will never be at risk of losing me, beloved.”

“I know. I also know you will never lie to me again.” The demoness waved a clawed hand before resting it underneath her chin. She was waiting for him. He swallowed again.

“What can I do to make amends?”

Her grin widened, boarding on malevolent, as if she finally found the answer she was looking for. Lifting effortlessly from her chair, she began to stride across the room to him with measured steps.

“I have a few ideas.” She purred.

“Oh?” he asked again, displeased at how out of breath he sounded.

Golden eyes held his own, and she didn’t speak again until she was just an arm's length away from him.

Then she pointed at her feet. “Kneel.”

He felt his jaw go slack. She wants me to do what?

She cocked her head at his hesitation. “You will not kneel for your demoness?” She clicked her tongue in distaste. “Don’t you want to remedy your indiscretions?”

He set his jaw, barely suppressing a wince. When she put it that way, there was no reason not to kneel before her, even if the thought of doing so went against every instinct in his body. He did, after all, lie to her, and if this was what she wanted from him then who was he to deny her?

Besides, there would be an opportunity for her to return the favor. I’ll make sure of it.

Revealing nothing, he stared at her impassively and slowly dropped to one knee, biting back a scowl as her smirk grew.

Then, he watched as a slender leg poked out from the slit of the dress she was wearing, and a strappy, black heel. He gave her a simmering look, then took it in his hands without a word, and pressed a kiss to her ankle, trailing up the side of her calf.

“That’s very nice, mate.” She murmured, resting a clawed hand onto this shoulder. “What else are you willing to do for me?”

A light smirk replaced his features. She was asking him to seduce her. To fuck her. That was something he would be more than willing to oblige.

He promptly stood to his feet and grabbed her wrist, pulling him into his chest. To his amused delight, she went pliant in his arms— nearly purring as he captured her lips with his. He kissed her thoroughly, drowning out the memory of the other gods-awful kiss that’d been forced upon him.

Then a clawed hand traveled his cheek lightly, moving its way to the back of his head. She suddenly grabbed a fistful of his hair and tugged downwards, tearing his lips from hers. He hissed when sharpened teeth latched themselves on his neck, nipping at the exposed flesh there before soothing it with her tongue.

Then she began to walk forward, forcing him to step with her— until the back of his knees touched the mattress of their bed.

“Meus es tu.” She said lowly, and she pushed at his chest, sending him backwards.

It turned into a battle for assertion. One that he admitted he thoroughly enjoyed— and intended on winning.

He took her with him, grabbing her waist to position her underneath. His smile was smug when he peered down into four golden slits, obviously dissatisfied at the turn of events.

Ignoring her bared teeth, he nudged open her legs with one knee before settling between them, then rolled against her in one swift movement, taking pleasure in the way she threw her head back with a growl.

He continued his ministrations, trailing hot kisses down her neck, just as she did to his moments before. One hand reached up to graze her breast as his kisses went farther down the middle of her chest, while his other hand roamed over the swell of her hips.

Raven in turn, was growing more frustrated with every second he kept her distracted with his teasing, light touches.

“Enough.” It was a command.

By the time he managed to blink he found himself on his back and she was straddling his waist.

Her hands encased with her dark magic. “Alliges duplicia.”

His arms lit up with her magic and they were forced above his head. When he tried to bring them back down he was met with resistance. What the hell? When he looked up his eyes widened with realization. She bound my fucking hands to the headboard.

“Raven.” He snarled in warning, tugging on his bonds. The demoness was unperturbed by his outburst.

“You will submit to me, mate.” A dangerous red swirled in those golden irises, and he clenched his jaw in response, then bit back a groan when she brushed against his length.

“Let me go.” He glared.

“I will not. This is your punishment. You will stay like this until you beg for me.”

“Tch.”

He detested how painfully hard he was. His erection strained against his trousers, and he couldn’t contain his next groan when she palmed him.

It didn’t matter how much he wished she’d slip her hand underneath his belt. He would not beg.

She began to strip slowly, until she was completely bare before him, and then she peeled off his pants carefully— and then his shirt. His full erection was on display for her, and he released a strangled noise in the back of his throat when she settled her heated core against him.

She chuckled darkly when he twitched underneath her. “Say please.”

“No.” he gritted out, breath hitching when her mouth latched onto one of his nipples, nipping roughly. Her tongue flicked it right after, mixing the pain she had caused with pleasure.

“No?” Her claws wrapped around his throat, squeezing in warning. “You are in no position to deny me, mate.”

He just glowered.

“Fine.” She relented, retracting her claws. “You will break eventually.”

Her fingers lifted to her full breasts, reddened from her true form, and her fingers began to tease one darkened nipple into a tight peak. The bonds went taut when he pulled at them roughly in an attempt to reach out to her. She noticed this and smirked as she teased her other nipple, then rocked against him. They groaned together.

He watched as she then slipped one hand down to her core and began to tease herself, parting her folds before slipping a finger inside while grazing against his cock.

She moaned, mouth parting slightly and he growled again in protest. That should be his fingers inside of her.

“If you insist on not obeying me, then I will use you for my own pleasure.” She sunk down onto his cock and his head hit the wall with his groan. Fuck, she felt so damned good and the pace she was setting set him on a steady course towards an impending orgasm, regardless of how much he despised not being in control.

“Beloved.” He growled when she brought him to the brink all too soon, then slowed back down while teasing her clit with her own fingers. Quick, circling motions that revealed her own need to him— that she was nearing her own orgasm.

He caught her hitched breath. She was losing resolve, caught in her own wave of pleasure.

“Release me.” He tugged on his bonds again and bucked his hips into her for good measure. “I want to be the one to fuck you when you come.”

She gasped and clenched around him, drawing him even deeper. “I will come soon. If you want to fuck me, you must beg now.”

He cursed. Goddamn her.

“Please, habibti. I am yours.”

With a victorious smirk, she waved a hand. That smirk was short-lived however, because as soon as the bonds disappeared he lunged for his little demoness, twisting them both before pulling out of her to roll her onto her stomach.

“You are mine too, Beloved. I will also make sure of that,” he snarled into her ear, teasing his cock at her entrance. His hands held her pressed against the bed.

The demoness laughed, then inhaled sharply when he pushed into her with one swift movement. They were both right at the edge, only a few more thrusts was all it would take to throw them both over.

“I can feel how close you are,” He reached a hand underneath her to press his thumb directly against her clit, “Come with me, now.”

She cried out— a sound that was more animalistic than human, and she fluttered around him. He fell shortly after, nearly seeing stars. He continued to thrust languidly, drawing out their orgasms. Vaguely, he watched as Raven’s skin turned from red to flushed ivory. One pair of eyes turned to peer up at him instead of two, and the color of her irises receded to lavender.

For a moment he watched her transform, breathless.

She smiled up at him as her breathing returned to normal and he returned it before dropping his face to her neck. “I’m going to have to make you jealous more often,” Damian murmured into her skin.

Raven snorted, lifting a hand to run through his sweat-soaked hair. “Unwise. Not only will I definitely kill the next one, it will hurt the entire time she is dying.”

“Green is a good color on you, habibti.”

She said nothing, but he could feel her contentment in the gentle run of her fingers across his hair and skin. As post-orgasmic clarity continued to take hold a question popped into his mind and he leaned up to regard her.

“When were you planning on telling me we were essentially demon-married?”

She flushed. “Eventually. Are you...did you not want…?”

He silenced her with a kiss, letting his actions and strength of his emotions answer her question. As though he could ever give this up, or stomach the idea of either of them being with someone else.

After all, Damian didn’t share either.

#damirae #damian x raven #damian wayne #raven #teen titans #fanfic

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7-wonders · 4 years ago

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For a little over a month now, you had been dating Duncan Shepherd, and it was...surprisingly low-key considering how high-profile he was. That's not to say that this is a bad thing. In fact, it's been really nice. Dinner dates at the backs of restaurants, movie nights at your place, even just driving aimlessly and talking with each other. Over the past month, you've gotten to really know the man that many magazines refer to as "untouchable," finding out that those assumptions are all lies. In fact, you've never been so comfortable in the beginning stages of a relationship with someone before.

Which is why you're waiting for the other shoe to drop.

You're not used to things going so good for you. Work, personal life, relationships--all manage to end up going in the opposite direction of where you wanted them to go. This is probably the reason that it took three weeks of Duncan chasing after you after meeting at a work conference (you'll never forget watching this 30-something man who had been covered in Forbes walk up to a group of late Millenials/early Gen Zs and look entirely out of his element) before you agreed to go out with him. You're just naturally guarded, and there's nothing wrong with that. But, you'll admit, it is nice to be vulnerable sometimes. Especially when that results in an extremely beautiful man taking out out and showering you with attention.

Said beautiful man is who makes your phone buzz on your desk. It's 3:30 on a Friday, and you're really not doing much work anyways.

"It's a beautiful day out, are you up for ditching work and going for a walk through the park?"

You feel yourself flush, as you always do whenever Duncan texts you. Before you can respond, another text comes in.

"Too late, I'm already outside your office."

Sure enough, you look up and see him chatting to your coworker. His eyes flick towards you, and he grins when he sees that you're shrugging your coat on. "Hi," you say shyly, a little flustered that he's here in your office right now.

"Hi. Hope I didn't interrupt any work."

"You did. I was very busy staring at my blank computer screen."

Duncan chuckles, wrapping his arm around you and leading you out of the office. you turn to wave goodbye to your coworker, who is currently fanning herself with her hand and mouthing "oh my god!"

"So what are you doing out of your office on a Friday afternoon?"

"Ah, they didn't have much use for me anyways." You laugh, knowing that's an obvious lie. His uncle would make him live at the office if he had the chance. "No, I figured I could take off a couple of hours early. Lord knows I've worked enough lately."

"You sure the world won't stop spinning because you're gone?"

Duncan grabs your hand, swinging it lightly as you cross a crosswalk. "If it does, at least I'm with you." You look up at him in pleased surprise, and he steals a kiss. "There is something I've been wanting to discuss with you, though. Figured this would be a good time to do it."

Oh god. The other shoe. "You're not married or something, are you?"

"No, I'm not married."

"Thank god," you breathe a literal sigh of relief.

"Was that really what you were worried about? That you were an unknowing mistress?"

"That, and that you might be a serial killer." You side-eye him. "Verdict's still out on that one."

He laughs. "I can promise you that neither of those are true."

"So what did you want to tell me? If you're not a married serial killer."

You come to a stop when Duncan does, staring at him as he nervously rubs the back of his neck. "Um, I...I have a child."

"A child?" He nods. "Like, a tiny human that shares your DNA?" Another nod.

"I understand that this might be a shock to you."

"No! No, it's not a shock. I'm just surprised, is all."

"I've never told any of the previous women I've dated about her, because typically the fling ends as just a fling, and her safety is something that I'm very protective of."

"Your daughter?"

"Yes, Elizabeth. She's three."

You smile, the mental image of Duncan as a dad something intensely heartwarming.

"As I was saying, I don't typically tell my dates about her, but you and I are getting fairly serious and I don't want to hide such an important part of my life from you."

"We're getting serious, huh?" Duncan laughs lightly. "Can I call you my boyfriend?"

"As long as I can call you my girlfriend."

"Is your daughter's mother...around?"

"No. She stuck around for two months after Elizabeth was born, and then she left. We weren't dating for very long before she got pregnant. I told her that I wanted the baby, even if she didn't." Duncan shrugs. "I guess she didn't."

"I'm so sorry that you had to deal with that, Duncan."

"I'd rather raise my daughter to know she has one parent that loves her so much instead of one parent that loves her and one parent that doesn't care." Though he hasn't revealed much about his past, you do know that he has a complicated relationship with his family, which is probably where those feelings come from.

"Thank you for telling me. I'm glad that you trust me enough to talk about someone so precious to you."

"I want you in my life, (Y/N), hopefully for a long time, but I need you to know that she'll always come first."

Well, if you didn't think you were head over heels for him before, this solidifies it.

"If you're okay with it, I want you to meet her."

You look up in surprise. "You do?"

"Of course. I'm not going to tell you all of this just for you to not meet her."

"I'd love to!" you say quickly, not wanting him to think you're hesitant. "Would she be okay with it?"

Duncan nods. "I'll talk to her about it, but I don't see why not. Do you want to come over tonight? I can cook dinner, and you can actually see where I live."

You try not to show it, but your eyes widen. Not only would you be meeting his daughter, but now you'd be visiting his place for the first time. "Um, sure!"

"I'll text you, but does five work? That gives me some time after the nanny leaves."

"Five is great."

"You sure?" He smirks. "You look a little nervous."

"I'm sure." Duncan kisses you once more before bidding you farewell, leaving you to walk home and try not to internally freak out.

///

After spending way too much time figuring out what to wear before realizing you're meeting your boyfriend's three-year-old and not the Queen of England, you're at the address Duncan had texted you at approximately 5:05 (not too late, but also not punctual or, even worse, early). You shift from foot to foot nervously after knocking on the door of the townhouse, not quite sure if you should let yourself in.

Before you can make that decision, it's made for you when the door is opened by Duncan. He's grinning, barefoot and casual, with a tiny pair of arms wrapped around his neck and big blue eyes shyly gazing up at you from where a head is hidden against his shoulder. Instantly, your nerves melt away when you see that she's truly Duncan's carbon copy, from the eyes to the brown curls to the way she looks at you as if she's trying to figure you out.

"Hi, come in." Duncan ushers you in, kissing you on the cheek as he takes your coat. "Do you want something to drink?"

"Wine?" you ask before wondering if you can even drink wine when there's a small child around.

"Perfect, I already opened a bottle." Duncan looks at his daughter, brushing her curls back before whispering something in her ear. "(Y/N), this is my daughter, Elizabeth. Lizzie, this is Daddy's special friend, (Y/N), remember?"

"Hi Elizabeth, it's very nice to meet you," you say with a smile.

She looks up at you. "Hi," she says before burying her face in Duncan's shoulder again, making both you and him chuckle.

"The, uh, food's probably almost ready. It's chicken and rice, if you're okay with that."

"Definitely!"

"I wanted chicken nuggets, but Daddy said that's not 'date food,'" Elizabeth pipes up. You laugh as Duncan blushes.

"That's where your dad and I disagree, because I would eat chicken nuggets every night if I could."

She grins, and you feel like you just won the lottery. "Me too."

"Can I set you down, sweetie? I have to check the stove," Duncan explains. He speaks to her so softly, which is such a change from the demanding man you see when he's on work calls, or the romantic who loves to make you flustered. Once she agrees, he puts her on the floor and she immediately runs off, presumably to the living room or her bedroom.

"She's so cute," you gush once she's out of earshot.

"Yeah, she is," he says fondly, moving something off of the stove before kissing you properly. "I think she likes you."

"You can tell?"

He shrugs. "Father's intuition."

"I wasn't sure if I should have brought her a gift, like a toy or something?"

"I'm glad you didn't. My mom spoils her rotten with toys, she has way more than she needs."

"Can I help you with anything?"

"Would you mind setting the table, actually?" He points to a cupboard. "Dishes are up there."

Everywhere you look, there's signs of the little girl that lives here, whether it be crayon artwork on the fridge or the kid plastic plates in the cupboard. You smile at a picture of Duncan pushing Elizabeth on a swing as you set down the plates and cutlery, Duncan putting dishes of food on the middle of the table.

"Elizabeth!" he calls. "Dinner's ready!" You can hear the pattering of her little feet before you see her sprinting into the dining room like she's racing Usain Bolt.

"Daddy, can I sit with (Y/N)?" she asks, making your heart almost explode.

"I don't know, you'd have to ask (Y/N)," he says, hiding a grin as he looks at you.

"(Y/N), can I sit with you?"

"Yeah." Your voice comes out as little more than a whisper due to how choked up you are, so you clear your throat and try again. "Yeah," you say, louder.

You sit down on the chair closest to Duncan, and Elizabeth clambers up onto your lap. Once she's comfy, she makes grabby hands at the plate that Duncan is making for her. Your hands hover awkwardly at your sides, not sure what to do. What if you move too fast and scare her off? No, that's with wild animals, not toddlers. Yet again, the decision of what to do is made for you when she gets her plate and begins to talk to you.

Throughout dinner, Duncan can hardly eat, so wrapped up in watching you interact with his daughter as you listen to every word she says and chat with her about whatever she's deemed more important than her food. He's not sure of the last time that he was ever this happy; maybe the day Elizabeth was born? Listening to you laugh at one of the jokes she learned at nursery school and has told at least a hundred times by now, he's sure that he made the right choice in saying that he wants you around for a while.

IDK who even would want to read this so I'm just tagging a couple of people @sojournmichael @michaellangdon @xavierplympton @blakescoven @mrslangdonn @michaellangdonstanaccount

#duncan shepherd #house of cards #duncan shepherd imagine #duncan shepherd imagines #duncan shepherd x reader

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pascalpanic · 4 years ago

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Blood, Sweat, and Tears (Javier Peña x f!Reader)- Chapter Three

Summary: You meet Javier for the third time. Additionally, you both begin to discover how much the Murphys love to meddle.

W/C: 2.3k

Warnings: language, innuendo

A/N: This is where things start to get interesting! I’m so in love with this fic and can’t wait for all of you to hopefully love these two like I do! This chapter was really fun to write (Steve and Javi are so much fun) and from here, it’s the interesting stuff!

p.s. this gif makes me WEAK... do you know how badly I want to make Javi smile 🥺

previous chapter | next chapter

You’ve known Javier Peña for a total of five days now, have met him twice, but he’s still all you can think about. Lorena catches on easily that something has put you in a dreamy and lovely mood as you hum and smile to yourself, folding the linens for beds.

“¿Quiubo, Ana?” She asks, bumping into your side and teasingly asking you what’s up in Colombian slang. Your name is not Ana, no, but the girls around here love to call you it; they derived the nickname from americana. As much as it bugs you, it’s better than gringa, your original name around here.

You shake your head, ponytail swinging lightly behind you. “It’s nothing,” you shrug, but you’re smiling, and Lorena giggles a little.

“Nothing my ass. Tell me, who is it? It’s gotta be someone, right?” She asks, and you smile a little wider, shaking your head again. “No one smiles while doing the goddamn sheets, chica.”

Shrugging, you wrap up a blanket and giggle. “Well, there’s a guy, yes,” you finally admit, biting your lip as you think about him. His face, his handsome face, the way you made him laugh. That seemed rare from a man like him.

Lorena squeals and bounces, her dark and curly ponytail following her movements. “Tell me everything. Come on, I’m your best friend, you know you can,” she whines, grabbing your arm.

You yank your arm away to continue folding the sheets, but you still have a dreamy smile as you think about him. “Well, I met him at the gym. The night that woman died,” you tell her, and both of you droop softly at the memory, though the excitement returns as you think of Javier again. “His name is Javier. Oh my god, he’s so handsome,” you laugh as you picture him. “He’s got this mustache, right? It looks so 70s but it’s so hot on him.”

Wiggling her eyebrows, Lorena laughs and picks up some sheets, helping you fold them. “All the better when his mouth is between-“

“Lori!” You squeal and push her teasingly, laughing at her terrible thoughts. “Jesus Christ,” you groan, but the smile remains plastered on your face.

“Estás tragada, Ana,” she practically sings as she sees the look on your face. It’s another slang term around here- literally, it means you’ve been swallowed; figuratively, that you’re head over heels.

Rolling your eyes, you toss a folded sheet down on the table. “I’ve known him for five days.”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t be completely in love with him,” she teases. Lorena is young, only 19, full of dreams and hope. She’s similar to the Disney princesses you grew up on, you think, huge brown eyes gleaming and dark waves bouncing along with her.

You shake your head. “Don’t you have a catheter or something to go do?” You tease her, chuckling as her expression sours. “Go on, ¡ábrase!”

Lorena rolls her eyes and leaves the room. “Tragada!” She shouts before closing the door, leaving you to your folding.

Javier lights a cigarette, watching the smoke trail from the end of it. It’s hypnotic for a moment, exactly what he needs to keep his mind off of the two most pressing matters in his head right now: the paperwork in front of him, and you. He takes a drag from the cigarette and exhales for a moment before sipping the coffee in front of him, expression dropping from completely neutral to a frown when Steve sits down in front of him.

“Mornin’, Javi,” the blonde man grumbles as he plops down in his office chair, taking a long swig from the large coffee mug he holds. Javi raises his eyebrows quickly in greeting before turning back to his paperwork, but Steve is in a chatty mood today. Unsurprising, Javier thinks, as Murphy starts talking again. “Spare one?” He asks, nodding to the cigarette.

Groaning, Javier nods and hands him one and his lighter. “You owe me around $30 in spares now,” he says teasingly, his mind elsewhere.

Steve rolls his eyes as he brings it to his lips and lights it. “Real friends don’t keep running tabs.” “We’re not friends, we’re partners,” Javier says, trying to sound threatening, but they both know it’s a lie. Steve is Javier’s best, if not only, friend.

“Speakin’ of friends, heard from Connie that you’ve got a new one. One that does more than fuck you,” he asks, raising an eyebrow. “You wanna tell me ‘bout her?”

The cigarette returns to Javier’s lips for another long and slow drag before he bothers responding. “No.”

Murphy laughs a little at that, sipping his own mug of coffee. “Good news for you then. You don’t have to. The word around the hospital is that she’s completely smitten with you,” he informs the man across from him, the coffee mug covering the lower half of his face.

That finally grabs Javier’s attention, causing him to lift a brow in curiosity. Steve grins. “So you do like her as more than something warm at night,” he chuckles a little, setting down his mug. “And you haven’t even kissed her yet, wow,” he nods, observing Javier’s reactions and reading them.

Javier rolls his eyes and Steve laughs again. “I’ll have to tell Connie all about how you feel. Maybe that girl’ll get the nerve before you and make the first move.” “Don’t you fucking dare, Murphy,” Javier practically hisses at him, leaning across his desk.

“Wow,” Steve chuckles and leans back in his seat, dragging out the vowel of the word. “You’re really into her.” “I am not some teenage boy you can poke and prod and call chicken, Stephen,” Javier threatens, annoyance clearly growing. “What I do with my love life is none of your fucking business, unlike you and Connie seem to think,” he says with force, sitting back in his chair and folding his arms across his chest.

“Jesus, Jav. Just trying to help,” he shakes his head and drinks the last of his coffee, standing. He takes Javier’s mug too, heading for the coffee machine in the break room. “One last thing: Connie told me that the girl gets off at 6 tonight, and she’s going to the gym after.” Steve smirks a little and turns away.

“Fuck you, Murphy!” Javier shouts after the man, who’s walking to the break room with a little more pep in his step.

Murphy flips Javi the bird over his shoulder.

As you walk to the gym, the sweltering heat of Colombia doesn’t annoy you as much as normal. You’re already about to be sweating your ass off, it’s fine. The sun is slowly slipping down the horizon, not quite at sunset yet, casting a golden glow over the crowded streets.

Someone in the street is singing, and it fills the warm air just the way the humidity does. He’s talented, playing a guitar too, and you toss a 50 peso coin in his case as you pass. You hum along, the song familiar to you thanks to the radio, even murmuring the words to yourself. It’s an absolutely beautiful evening, and the only thing that could make it more beautiful would be encountering the beautiful DEA agent who has occupied a corner of your mind for the past week

Turning the corner, you spot the entrance to the gym, and notice that the door is being opened by a man with slightly wavy brown hair and a neat mustache- Javier, you grin to yourself. You jog a little to catch up, calling his name, and his eyes seem to glimmer a little as he hears you.

You’ve never seen the man in the daylight, and it’s truly a sight to behold. The light accentuates the hills and valleys of his skin, the slight hook of his nose, and most importantly his stunning eyes. The light catches them just right, showing the depth in those shimmering brown rings around his irises. His hair is lighter than you thought, when it hasn’t been dampened by sweat, and shines in the sunlight just like the rest of him does. “Fancy seeing you in the daylight,” you tease, an easy smile crossing your face.

Javier is noticing the exact same things about you. His lips tug up in one corner at the way your ponytail bounces and swings with your steps, your beautiful skin in the golden-hour sun, the way your smile lightly crinkles your nose. He opens the door for you and follows you inside. “It is different, I agree. So no graveyard shift tonight?” He asks you.

Nodding, there’s a genuinely excited smile on your face. “Yep. For the next two weeks, I only work days. I can’t wait, oh my god,” you sigh, tightening your ponytail and shoving your bag into a locker. “How about you? This is an odd hour for a man with your job,” you ask.

The man simply shrugs. “Believe it or not, I get off at about 5:30 every night. I usually end up at the office for much longer, considering the workload.”

That surprises you. “Holy fuck, you’re kidding,” you laugh, unable to believe it, but Javier simply shakes his head, confirming it to be true. “Do you at least get paid overtime or something?”

“It’s not manual labor or anything, so no. It’s just expected of you when you’re on this kind of job,” Javier shrugs, walking to the boombox before you can and turning on a station of lively Colombian music.

“I’d die. I’d literally die,” you laugh, adjusting your tank top and making your way to an elliptical.

“You save people for a living. I deal with a lot of blood, and I can barely handle it; meanwhile, it’s your literal job to deal with that stuff,” he shakes his head and gets on a treadmill, a couple of yards away from you and facing the same wall.

“Different people are suited for different work, I suppose,” you shrug as you begin moving, enjoying the relaxation that comes with the moment.

The two of you continue on your respective cardio machines for a while, before you break the silence and pause the machine to take a swig of water. “Where’s your water bottle, huh?” You ask him.

Javier stops his machine as well, amusement in his eyes. “You know, I don’t seem to be able to get as hard of a workout in when you’re around. Too much chatter,” he teases, raising an eyebrow.

You’ve been known to babble, too much sometimes, and that makes a little bubble of anxiety pop inside your stomach. “Shit, I’m sorry Javier,”’ you shake your head and turn back to the machine. “I’ll stop-”

“I never said I don’t enjoy it,” he says, the deadpan cracking and a small smile tugging across his face. It makes the anxiety dissipate as easily as it formed, the way he smiles at you and those beautiful eyes meet yours. “Like you said when we met. It’s nice to talk to an American,” he shrugs simply, crossing his arms for a moment before letting them drop again. “Especially one like you.”

You giggle softly at that, biting down on your lip and looking down. When you look up, Javier has turned the machine back on and is holding a comfortable jog. Fine, so that’s how he wants to play it. You bite down harder on your lip to hold back a stupidly lovestruck grin from crossing your face, instead turning back to your machine and getting moving again.

A while later, a few snarky comments from each of you, the 30-minute period the cardio machines run comes to an end. You both sigh, panting and regaining your breath, as you try your hardest to keep your eyes off the man in the large mirrored wall. He’s handsome when he’s working out too, you’ve known that since the first time you met him, his tan skin flushed and tinged with pink. The sweat coats his forehead and you wonder if it’s uncomfortable to have that mustache when he’s exercising- maybe you should ask, you consider, but immediately change your mind. He already finds you nosy, you’re sure, you don’t need to push it more.

The man turns to you, hands on his waist. “Weightlifting competition?” He asks, a smirk on his face as he breathes heavily.

“Oh, you’re fucking on, Peña,” you laugh, grabbing your water bottle and taking a long swig from it. You set it down on a weightlifting bench a few moments later after you find your way to a squat rack. “Let’s do squats, huh?” You ask, already moving to put your preferred weight on the bar.

Javier tries to hold back his discontent when he sees the weights you’re loading onto it. “I was really hoping for maybe a bench press or something, but I guess I never specified,” he murmurs, sitting on the bench and waiting for you.

When you’re all set, you get under the bar and lift it on your shoulders, walking forward and doing a couple of squats. You make eye contact with Javier and shoot him a wink, earning a little chuckle and a twitch of the top lip, hidden beneath his mustache. You walk it back and set the bar down, then crack your back softly and look at him. “Go for it,” you say, gesturing to the rack.

“I suppose I can’t back out now,” he nods, getting under the bar in a similar way to you and letting out a grunt. “Fuck, you’re strong,” he grits out as he stands up, the bar resting on his traps. He does one squat, with effort, then returns it to the holding spot. “Okay, you win.”

You whoop happily, throwing your hands in the air and laughing. “Jesus, maybe it’s a good thing you’re coming here more often,” you tease, moving to take the weights off the bar.

“Maybe it is,” he chuckles to himself as he removes the weights from the other side of the bar, thinking about it. It is good for him; he gets to see you.

tag list:

@diogodxlot

#javier peña x reader #javier peña #javi peña #javi peña x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #narcos #narcos fanfic #blood sweat and tears

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monstersandmaw · 4 years ago

Text

Male vampire x male character - Part Two (nsfw) (Halloween ‘surprise’ Patreon story).

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

I'm really pleased that you and my Patrons enjoyed the first part, and that folks were keen for more. I’ve had more interaction with this post on Patreon than many of the others, which is surprising given how mlm stories are usually much less in demand than m/f ones. Thanks for that!

Anyway, here's more of our favourite oblivious dork Alec and his obviously-not-a-vampire crush... Part Three is on the way too (tomorrow), despite this having been planned as a quick porn-without-plot one-shot, as it were. Oh well?!

Hope you enjoy.

Part One

After his initial - admittedly strange - meetings with Sebastien, Alec didn’t see him on campus at all for the rest of the week, and he wasn’t quite sure how he felt about that. Yes, the guy had been a bit of a pompous arsehole in the library, but he’d made up for it by coming to the art room and apologising, engaging him in conversation — even if that conversation had been slightly… odd? — and being so god-damn-fucking beautiful too.

He overheard his students gossiping about ‘Dr. Dulac’ earlier that afternoon while they all carved the pumpkins he’d bought for them at the local supermarket, and it seemed that the general consensus was that Sebastien was single, unfailingly polite (even in the face of Janette Hilton, the English Department’s longest-serving and least sympathetic lecturers), hotter than any celebrity you cared to name, and a specialist in the poets of the First World War like Sassoon and Brooke, among other more esoteric interests.

After an hour of clock-watching in his tiny little office in the Art Department on Friday, he abandoned all hope of concentrating on his last few bits of admin, and shut down his laptop. After clearing up yet more pumpkin seeds that he’d somehow missed on the last two sweeps he’d done of the studio, he stepped outside, never wanting to see another bloody thing again. Too bad he had a whole bloody cardboard box of them waiting to go into the boot of Kay’s car for her party that night. Still, he was almost sinfully proud of the carvings he’d done on them. One was decorated the whole way around with the foliate style engravings usually reserved for the steel on antique guns, with different depths to create the highlights and shadows, and another particularly spherical one had been cut away in squares to resemble the Death Star.

The October air outside bit into his lungs as he drew a deep breath - the spicy, fragrantly damp scents of autumn filling his nose - and his eye was drawn to the twinkling lights of the little coffee cart that still lingered in the park, selling tea, coffee, and hot chocolate to chilly students leaving the university campus for the night. With a black coffee for himself in one hand, he made his way to the Engineering Department, warily holding another frothy concoction in his other. It was apparently called a ‘London fog’ and it smelled of earl grey tea and lavender. He thought it sounded (and smelled) disgusting, but Kay perked right up when he deposited it on her desk five minutes later.

“Bless you, Alec Twayblade,” she grinned, taking the plastic lid off and inhaling it like it was the best thing she’d ever smelled. “Oh my god. How can you not like this?” she said after taking a huge gulp and moaning obscenely.

Alec didn’t bother to reply, his eye-roll speaking volumes anyway. They’d had this discussion so many times that they were both probably playing it out silently in their heads right that second. When Kay glanced up and saw that he certainly was, she snorted and grinned. “I love you, Alec,” she laughed. “You’re still coming tonight?”

“Against my better judgement,” he growled, leaning his weight on her desk and folding his arms across his battered, blue cable knit sweater. He had a huge daub of yellow paint on one elbow from that morning, and a small burn hole in the bottom from a failed attempt at pyrography a few years ago. It was the most comfortable jumper he owned, and he would probably wear it until it unravelled around him.

“You’re still not going to wear a costume, are you?” she added as she stood, pouting.

He shook his head. “I draw the line at that.”

“But you’d be so good making one!” she countered. “You helped me with that bat costume when we were at high school… Don’t you remember how fucking awesome it was?”

“I do,” he chuckled. “But I’m not going to wear one myself.”

She sighed, shoulders slumping. “Too much attention, huh?” she said softly. “Well, you know you’ll stand out more if you’re not wearing one tonight…?”

He shrugged. Honestly, he just couldn’t be bothered to dress up. Halloween had rather lost its shine for him anyway. “Not if I hide in the kitchen all night and make too-strong cocktails for everyone,” he said, flashing her his most roguish grin. “Plus, I spent much of today carving pumpkins with nattering eighteen year olds who are far too old to be carving pumpkins on academic time, but —”

“— you’re an awesome teacher who understands the need to let off some steam on the holidays,” she interjected. “Plus, it’s good practice anyway… working with a new medium…”

He allowed his lips to pinch upwards into a tiny smirk and let her have that one. “It’s nice to see them having fun,” was all he said.

An hour or so later, just as he arranged the last of the pumpkins down the garden path of Kay's Victorian semi-detached house, a voice murmured from behind him, “I can see the hand of a master at work in these carvings.”

Not having heard anyone approaching, Alec jumped, cursed, and dropped the pumpkin - thankfully with the candle still unlit. It rolled in a semicircle until a black boot gently stopped it, and a familiar face dipped into view as the owner of the boot bent to pick it up. To his surprise, it was Sebastien, and he was in costume. Probably anyway. Hopefully? Fuck. Alec’s brain stalled at the sight of him.

His eyes raked up Sebastien’s body and his jaw went quite literally slack.

The slender man was wearing thigh-high boots and leather pants so tight they had to have been spray-painted on, into which was tucked a loose, old-fashioned, white shirt with a good bit of flounce at the collar. “Holy shit,” he whispered, and Sebastien chuckled softly, a low, amused sound in the back of his throat.

“You recognise the costume?” he asked, seeming innocently amused. The long, dark coat, accented with gold brocade and bright gold buttons, opened briefly in a soft gust of wind that made the lit pumpkins flicker and lifted his loose, silver-white hair back for a breath as well.

“I…” he swallowed. “Uh, you’re Alucard,” he croaked. “From the Castlevania games…” A wry incline of Sebastien’s head told him he was correct, and then Alec blurted stupidly, “Shouldn’t you be shirtless though?”

Sebastien’s smile grew from pleased to deeply amused, his eyes glittering, and it was only then that Alec noticed the contacts burning a bright gold in his eyes and, as his lips peeled back and Sebastien began to laugh, he saw long, tapering, white canines befitting a vampire costume. “It’s a little cold for that, don’t you think?” Sebastien asked, still laughing quietly as Alec flushed crimson.

“Sorry,” he blurted. “I know. I just… forget it.”

“Where do you want it?” Sebastien asked, and Alec’s poor brain went blank.

“What?”

“The pumpkin,” Sebastien deadpanned and Alec’s poor, blank brain melted out of his ears with embarrassment.

“Uh… there’s fine,” he said, pointing at the little wrought-iron garden gate.

Sebastien placed the pumpkin down on the flagstone path so that the carved graveyard scene glimmered and flickered with appropriate spookiness, visible to anyone approaching along the quiet, suburban street. Enormous London plane trees stood sentry every few paces, heaving up the tarmac pavement with their roots, like a sleeper shifting a blanket with a restless turn, and sheltering the cars snuggled and parked beneath them. A carpet of leaves clung to the gutter in a long, golden line, melting into nothing in places in the glittering puddles. It would have been beautiful, had Alec not been faced with quite literally the most beautiful thing in the entire universe.

“Am I early then?” Sebastien asked, dusting off his palms and turning back to face Alec, who had barely managed to make his legs work long enough to stand up straight again.

He shook his head. “No. Henry’s inside already,” he said, running his fingers through his scruffy black hair. “With Rachel and Alison. I just forgot to put the pumpkins out earlier.”

“No costume?”

With a roll of his eyes, he shook his head. “Nope.”

“Too bad,” Sebastien said, eyeing the front door. The contacts were really creepy, shifting in the light that spilled down the stairs as the front door suddenly opened and Kay stepped out before he could worry that he’d been the only one to dress up. He could probably brush it off anyway, Alec supposed, and tried not to envy the man’s quiet confidence.

Silhouetted starkly against the hall light, with her high ‘Dracula’ collar on prominent display, Kay shrieked with glee and clapped her hands when she saw Sebastien. Apparently the two of them had been getting along rather well, while Alec had sequestered himself away in the Art Department like an ascetic.

“Bastien! You look amazing oh my god!” she blurted, rushing forwards a step or two before halting abruptly. “Wait, does that make me your father for the evening?” she cackled. “Wow, your teeth are really good! Mine wouldn't stay in for more than a few minutes…”

Sebastien’s gold eyes flickered sideways to Alec but it happened so briefly that he almost missed it. “Custom made a long time ago,” was all he said. “Shall we go inside? It’s freezing out here.”

“Yes, of course, come on in,” she said, waving them all inside, Sebastien first. As Alec passed her last, she slapped him hard on the backside in rebuke and hissed, “Told you you should have worn a costume! You look like a big dumbo!”

“No different from any other night,” he quipped back, and she growled something indistinct at him. Perhaps a werewolf costume would have suited her better. “You could have told me you’d invited Dulac…”

“Why?” she retorted. “So you could suddenly decide that an evening moping alone with your PS4 playing Rocket League with strangers was more appealing? No fucking chance. Get inside. Sebastien’s right; I’m freezing my tits off.”

The distant murmur of voices in the living room made him veer off instinctively into the kitchen, and while they began to watch some old Hammer horror film, he made drinks. That, at least, he was good at.

Entering a while later, he found that Sebastien was seated on the sofa beside Henry, who wore an enormously fluffy wolfman costume - mostly a repurposed Chewbacca onesie with a latex wolf mask. He’d pushed the mask up onto his head in order to eat the Halloween themed nibbles on the coffee table, and the effect rendered him entirely ridiculous. Another reason not to wear a costume: it’s impractical, and gets in the way, and washing ketchup out of matted fake fur is a nightmare. Alison and Rachel sat practically in each other’s laps, one a zombie and the other a ghost, both squeezed into one groaning old armchair.

After half an hour of Christopher Lee’s admittedly creepy Dracula, Alec slid from his seat at the periphery, and ducked out again into the kitchen. Straightening from fishing a beer from the back of the fridge, he heard the soft click of the door and turned to find Sebastien standing there.

“Get bored with late 1950’s horror too?” Alec asked. “Beer?”

Sebastien inclined his head in a way that said he wasn’t a beer drinker and held up his almost-empty wineglass as an excuse as he moved a little closer. “If you don’t like cheesy horror films, and you don’t seem to like Halloween either, I wonder why you came at all tonight?”

“For Kay,” he said, as if it was the most obvious answer in the world. “She loves this shit.”

At that, Sebastien paused, a delicate smile on his face. In the soft glow of the under-cupboard lighting, his tanned skin seemed to shimmer, and Alec wondered fleetingly if he’d put some kind of glittery body powder on. Next, he wondered what on earth Sebastien was doing in here with him, looking at him like that.

“You are a good friend,” Sebastien said quietly, seeming perhaps a little sad around the edges.

“She’s done more than her fair share of looking after me,” Alec sighed knowingly. “Not that I’m doing it because I owe her,” he added, twisting the cap off the bottle and leaning back against the counter to drink deeply from it. As the malty froth washed over his tongue, he felt eyes on him and looked over at the other man.

Sebastien tilted his head slightly to the side, the false golden light in his eyes making him look like a cat in the dark. “You said she was trying to set you up with someone…”

Alec snorted, nearly shooting beer out of his nose. “Yeah. Well, she seems to think a good fuck will sort my mood out.”

“But you think otherwise?”

“You offering?” he asked bitterly, taking another swig and feeling uncharacteristically bold, though absolutely not expecting the answer he got.

“Perhaps.”

His eyebrows shot up and this time he did cough a little. “You can’t be serious.”

“You think someone who looks like me is entirely straight?” he asked with a wry smile, and Alec had to hand it to him. Not many men he knew could pull of long, luscious, white-blond hair like that, or would have the confidence to wear fucking thigh-high boots and whisper-tight leather pants…

“Still… you don’t really know me… That’s all I meant…”

“Doesn't mean one couldn’t engage in — how did you call it? — ‘a good fuck’. Not that I’m averse to getting to know you better, before or after.”

Alec swallowed another enormous gulp of frothing beer and blinked. “You’re serious?”

With a melodramatic smile that revealed his vampire teeth clearly, ‘Alucard’ purred, “Deadly.”

And Alec burst out laughing. The spell was shattered and the two men shared the remnants of their drinks and their laughter together before Alec sighed. “Your place or mine?”

At that, Sebastien seemed to falter, as if he hadn’t thought through to that point. After a moment’s hesitation, he said, “I assume yours would be alright?”

Alec shrugged. “Sure, if you don’t mind smacking your head on the ceiling and being able to touch two opposite walls at the same time…”

Sebastien’s lips hitched into another wry smile. “I’ve fucked in tighter spaces, I’m sure.”

“You know what?” Alec said as he rinsed out the beer bottle at the sink and half-turned to look at the other man over his shoulder. “You’re absolutely not what I expected.”

“Nor were you,” he shot back, still smirking. “And it’s been a while since I was assaulted by someone in a library.”

“Bring back happy memories, did it?” he snorted.

“Not exactly,” Sebastien murmured, and Alec realised he hadn’t actually been joking. “But I must confess that — despite my behaviour — I was pleasantly surprised by the sight of you when you rounded that bookshelf…”

Turning, Alec approached him cautiously. If he was genuinely serious about his proposal, Alec would find out now. “Pleased enough to seek me out afterwards…” he said, raising his eyebrows. He couldn’t do that ‘one brow at a time’ thing that Sebastien could, but it seemed to get his tone across all the same.

Unusually for Alec, Sebastien had an inch or two on him in height, and as Alec paused in front of him, close enough to catch the faintest hint of a woody cologne, the man angled his face just perfectly for the light to dance along his high cheekbones. Fuck, he was exquisite. The urge to kiss him rose in Alec; to feel his lips against his own, to have those elegant hands scrunch his hair…

As if reading his mind, Sebastien slowly, carefully, raised his right hand and brought his index finger to Alec’s chin, tilting it upwards just a fraction with the lightest pressure. The intensity in his eyes was almost too much, and it left Alec breathless. Again. Panting slightly, he parted his lips and then swallowed thickly.

Sebastien’s eyes darted instantly to the motion of his throat and for a second, Alec could have sworn he saw a vibrant red light reflected in his eyes. Sensing his moment of hesitation, of tension, Sebastian frowned. “What?”

“Nothing,” Alec breathed. “I thought your eyes went red but it must have been a car on the street outside or something.”

“Indeed,” he murmured, but then blinked rapidly. “Do you still wish to continue this?”

“Yes,” he whispered. Don't stop now. His whole body was thrumming in a way it hadn’t ever before with casual encounters. He felt alive for the first time in months.

Sebastien stepped back, turning his face away a little more. “Should we make our excuses…?”

Alec shook his head. “Nah, Kay will know what’s going on anyway, and I don’t want to face her smug looks until tomorrow at the least.”

With a softly amused chuckle, Sebastien stepped back and allowed Alec to leave the room first. The hair on the back of his neck prickled as the other man followed behind, but he didn't turn around or look at him until they were outside on the main street.

“It’s a bit of a walk…” Alec said, only realising then how long the walk would be. “I’m way over on the other side of town by the station…”

The continuing intensity of Sebastien’s scrutiny was beginning to shift from a turn-on to just marginally unnerving, but he told himself that an esteemed professor at one of the country’s finest universities, with more letters after his name than anyone his age had a right to possess, was unlikely to be truly dangerous for a one-night stand… right? There was something about the way he stared at Alec — an unmistakable hunger in his eyes — that made his skin prickle and his heartbeat jump instinctively. Like a deer before the gaze of a tiger, he was entranced.

Unexpectedly, Sebastien’s easy stride slowed at the brick gateway to a small, gravel park that sat between an old church and a chemist, the latter closed at this time of night. “May I kiss you?” he breathed, still gazing at him unblinkingly, as though Alec were the pretty one in this equation, not him.

Alec couldn’t help grinning. The way Sebastien’s eyes bored into him then drove all thought of threat and fear from his mind, and he nodded.

The man’s hands were chilly from the night air, but the moment they cupped his jaw and drew Alec toward him, he forgot about that. He forgot about everything at the meeting of their lips. Sebastien began tentatively, merely brushing their lips together, but when his golden eyes fluttered closed, he deepened the gesture, tongue just begging entrance, teasing him before withdrawing, retreating and returning.

Searing want shot down Alec’s spine and he arched into Sebastien’s taller body, hips seeking contact through his jeans. He moaned, deep and guttural, and it seemed to awaken something in Sebastien, because the man grabbed hold of the back of Alec’s hair and pulled his head slightly to one side to begin to kiss along his jawline, down to wards his neck. For a heartbeat, Sebastien froze there, nose pressed to his rabbiting pulse point, his teeth just grazing skin, before he exhaled harshly and stepped back. “We shouldn’t get carried away,” was all he whispered, stepping slightly out of Alec’s dazed field of view. “My place is nearer though.”

“Ok,” Alec said, still reeling. “Sure.”

When they reached the apartment building, his steps faltered in amazement. “You live… here?”

A slight flush seemed to warm Sebastien’s cheeks as he stepped up to the main doorway, only to have it opened from the other side by a man in livery. “Good evening, Monsieur Dulac,” said the friendly doorman instantly.

“Good evening,” he replied. “This is my friend, Alec Twayblade.”

It was impossible for the doorman not to realise that his ‘friend, Alec Twayblade’ was going to be a little more than that for the night, but he never let a flicker of judgement pass across his face. From the concierge desk - Sebastien’s building had a fucking concierge desk too - another man looked up and wished them both a good evening as they headed for the lifts.

“Does the English department also sell diamonds or drugs or something? How the fuck can you afford a place like this on a lecturer’s salary?” but even as he said it and the doors closed with a soft chime, he realised the truth of it. Sebastien’s aristocratic features and bearing were not merely a persona. They were truth. He stared up at him while Sebastien turned a key in the lift panel.

“Are you secretly royalty or something?” he whispered, only half joking.

The man shot him an amused look and shook his head, silk-white hair whispering against the rougher wool of his costume coat. “No, of course not, but I do have some inherited wealth.”

Some? “So you don’t actually have to work at the university at all then?”

He made a so-so motion of his head and said, “No, not really, but I genuinely enjoy teaching.”

“Your students certainly seem to enjoy you…”

“You don’t enjoy teaching?” he asked as the numbers on the dial climbed and climbed.

Please don’t say you live in the fucking penthouse too, Alec thought, already suspecting it might be true from the whole ‘special access key’. He glanced at the number pad and saw that the button labelled ‘PH’ was illuminated. Fuck. “Most days I enjoy it,” he admitted. “But I kind of fell into it a while back and just sort of…” he shrugged, “Stuck with it.”

Sebastien asked no more, and the lift finally stopped on the top floor. The doors drew back to reveal an apartment beyond that Alec could only gawp at. It was like something from the set of an Architectural Digest photo shoot. Nothing was out of place in the hardwood floor paradise, with clean, crisp lines and white marble counter tops in the kitchen off to his left, while a comfortable, and yet still clinically modern, sitting area sat to their right. Deep, fluffy rugs dotted that part of the penthouse, and a wide balcony stretched out over the city beyond, complete with a little table and chairs for warmer evenings.

“This place is incredible,” Alec breathed, the reason for his even being here completely forgotten.

Clearly sensing that, Sebastien smiled bashfully and said, “Would you like something to drink?”

Alec cleared his throat and hoped he wasn’t going to be faced with a choice between very expensive wines that he’d never heard of. “Sure… thanks.”

“White, red, beer, or whisky?” he asked, walking towards the kitchen and dumping his ‘Alucard’ coat over the back of a white sofa as he went. Alec’s mouth went dry as he watched the point where his narrow hips met the flowing material of the white shirt. Dear god, an arse like that shouldn’t be… well, it just shouldn’t be. And yet there it was. Clad in leather and looking positively delectable. “Or a soft drink?” he added when Alec remained silent.

Aware of where his gaze had landed, Sebastien halted and looked back over his shoulder, long, loose, naturally straight hair already losing the curls that had been worked into it for the Alucard costume. Definitely not straight, if he owned hair curlers.

“Uh…” Alec said, unsure what the question had even been now.

“I’m going to pour myself a whisky, if that helps…?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Sebastien smiled, looking almost endeared by Alec’s inept stuttering. Surely he couldn’t be unused to such a reaction? “Make yourself at home then.”

With a smoky, peat-tinged whisky in a wide, heavy-bottomed tumbler set on his glass coffee table, Alec watched Sebastien turn the gas fire on, and, to his surprise, he came to a halt directly in front of him. Setting his own whisky down on the table with a deliberate, and yet delicate, clunk, Sebastien turned back to him and raked his eyes down Alec’s body in a way that made him flush hot all over. His cock twitched with interest and he tried not to preen under that gaze.

Sebastien’s eyes and teeth were back to normal now, with no hint of the golden contacts or the vampire fangs, and Alec fleetingly assumed that he must have removed them at some point between getting the whisky and appearing in front of him looking like he was about to ravish him. Oh dear god, please let him be about to ravish me, he thought with a big, dumb grin spreading across his face.

Seeing his reaction, Sebastien reached down and knelt facing him on the sofa, running his palm over the already-growing bulge in Alec’s jeans. Alec let out a deep grunt and rocked his hips up into the contact, throwing his head back against the soft, open weave of the white fabric. “Oh fuck,” he hissed.

Sebastien’s fingers found the button of his jeans and deftly undid it, but he paused. “May I?” he asked, and Alec found himself nodding before he’d even worked out what Sebastien wanted.

He found out a moment later, when his jeans were around his ankles and Sebastien was kneeling on the floor between his knees and licking a long stripe up the length of his rapidly hardening cock.

“Oh god,” he panted as the wet heat of Sebastien’s mouth engulfed half of his length and then drew back to leave his wet tip exposed to the slight chill of the apartment air. The contrast stole his breath for a heartbeat, but Sebastien returned his attentions to his cock, gently sucking and working him to full hardness in a matter of minutes.

Pleasure sparked through Alec’s whole body and he strained not to thrust back into Sebastien’s mouth, even as Sebastien took him right to the back of his throat, the tip of Alec’s cock nudging against the silky resistance of his throat.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” he chanted as Sebastien’s fingertips just teased and caressed the underside of his balls too, and Sebastien hollowed his cheeks and sucked a little more insistently. “Oh fuck…” Really fucking eloquent here, Alec, he thought vaguely, but one look down at the vision kneeling between his legs and sucking him off drove even that thought from his brain.

The suck and slide of Sebastien’s mouth was incredible, and while he had no idea quite how much time passed, it felt like mere seconds as the heat stoked in him until he could feel the orgasm threatening to crash through him. “I’m… I’m really close…” he gasped as Sebastien moaned against his cock, sending little vibrations thrumming through him and tipping him even closer. The sharp prick of his teeth every now and again was a perfect counterpoint to the slick heat of his mouth, and it was never enough to hurt. Normally Alec wasn’t one for including teeth in this, but with Sebastien, it felt perfect.

Sebastien pulled back just as Alec felt himself beginning to coil up, his lips swollen and glistening from the exertion of bringing him that close, and he smiled. He looked radiant, and Alec’s cock twitched enthusiastically in his hands as he let out a soft whimper. The air was cold and his tip beaded pre-come freely, which Sebastien thumbed away with a surprisingly tender gesture, only to watch as more pearled immediately at his slit. Using just the tip of his tongue, Sebastien lapped at it delicately and Alec’s whole body shuddered.

His thighs shook at the tiny, intense stimulation, with Sebastien's fingers gripping the base of his cock in a tight circle, and he gasped, chest heaving. It was too much and not enough, and as he found his perineum teased as well, he bellowed and trembled. He was half a heartbeat away from coming harder than he could ever remember coming in his life, and Sebastien wasn’t going to let him have it. He roared and ground his teeth, bucking his hips, which made Sebastien laugh softly.

“Alright,” he heard him murmur, before he swallowed him down to the back of his throat again, and Alec shattered with a yell.

When he finally blinked his eyes open, he found that Sebastien had risen and was sitting on the small sofa beside him, whisky in hand, staring openly at him. He didn’t look smug exactly, but there was a quiet satisfaction to his brown eyes that made Alec flush, at which Sebastien’s beautiful lips drew back into a smile. He noted again those slightly larger canines, but they were nothing like the vampire teeth he had worn earlier.

“What do you want?” Alec asked, voice hoarse. God, he sounded wrecked. Had he really shouted so hard he’d made his throat sore?

Sebastien’s dolorous, dark eyes crinkled slightly at the corners. “What do you want?”

“To watch you come,” he said immediately.

“And how would you like me to come?” Sebastien replied, sipping nonchalantly at the golden liquor as if the were discussing what Alec would like Sebastien to wear. As it was, his leather pants were constricting his obvious hard-on in a way that had to be painful for him, and his shirt was open at the neck to reveal delicate collarbones and a glimpse of his beautiful olive skinned chest.

He was an absolute vision. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he blurted in a whisper before he could stop himself, and to his surprise, Sebastien laughed. The sound was bright, delighted, and oddly self-conscious, as if he hadn’t been expecting a compliment like that. “Sorry,” he added, looking away. “Look… if you’ve got condoms, I’m… I’m good to… you know…”

“You want me to fuck you?” Sebastien asked, his gaze sharpening again.

“Yes?”

“’Yes?’ Or ‘yes’…?” Sebastien asked, seeking clarification.

“Yes. But I don't understand your question.”

“Look at me,” Sebastien said.

“Hard not to…” Alec quipped back, still feeling utterly wrung out.

“Most people assume I’m going to be the one taking it…”

Alec’s eyebrows rose as realisation settled. “Oh. And, what, I look like a top?”

Sebastien’s lips twitched. “Conventionally more so than I do, with your rugged looks and the rough shadow around your jaw…”

“So… do you want me to… you know…? Or…” Fuck, he felt like a teenager again, struggling to articulate himself and not get his sentences in a tangle while this breathtaking creature just sat there and watched him make an idiot out of himself.

“I very much want to fuck you,” Sebastien said at last. “If you’d like that as well.”

“Yes,” he said instantly.

Sebastien set down his glass and rose in a single, elegant motion, and then held his hand out to Alec.

His skin was still cool, especially next to Alec’s searing body, and his hold was steady as Alec heaved himself to his feet and allowed himself to be alternately tugged and kissed into the bedroom.

___

Part Three

Behold, plot has appeared to go with the Halloween porn I had planned. Alec’s family will come up in the next chapter.

___

I really hope you folks enjoyed this one! Don’t forget to let me know if you did enjoy it by leaving a like and/or reblogging it!

#vampire #male vampire #male vampire x human #exophilia #vampire boyfriend #male vampire x male human #male monster #mlm #mlm exophilia

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thegirlwithataser · 4 years ago

Note

hey hey, could you write buck and eddie in a car accident with hurt!buck and love confession from eddie? thank youu

Hi! Thank you so much for this prompt, I hope I did it justice. I really enjoyed writing this, so let me know what you think!

If you have a prompt for anything surrounding 911 on Fox send it to me and I can almost guarantee I'll write it for you!

You can also read this on ao3!

Never Letting You Go

Eddie doesn’t mean to tell Buck that he’s in love with him as the other man bleeds out. It just kind of happens.

They’d been driving back to Eddie’s house after a shift, Buck offering to drive Eddie to and from work while his truck was in the shop. They’d been joking about something Chimney had said during shift when Eddie saw a truck careening towards them, running the red light and going at least seventy-five in a forty-five. Eddie had barely gotten out Buck’s name in warning before the Jeep jolted and everything spun.

Eddie comes back to the present slowly. His vision is blurry and he tastes something metallic. Blood, his mind supplies. His ears are ringing and for a moment he can’t remember where he is.

It all crashes back to him as his vision clears partially. Car accident. They were in a car accident. The jeep seems to be upright, but there’s glass everywhere and the metal frame of the car is bent unnaturally.

Buck, Eddie’s mind screams at him. Where is Buck?

Eddie turns his head, sending a sharp pain to his shoulder as he moves.

His breath rushes right out of him when he looks at his best friend in the driver’s seat. His eyes are closed and there’s blood trickling down his face. Too much blood. Buck isn’t moving and Eddie can’t tell if he’s breathing. Frantically, he tries to reach over to Buck but he can’t move. Seatbelt, right.

Eddie groans as he manages to unclick his seatbelt. He extends his arms, bruised, but not broken, and sighs in relief. He’s able to maneuver himself closer to Buck with some difficulty, forcefully ignoring the throbbing in his head and focusing on getting them out of this. Alive, preferably.

Buck still isn’t moving but looking closely, Eddie can see the shallow rise and fall of the other man’s chest.

“Buck,” he says. His voice is scratchy and desperate but he doesn’t care. Buck has to be ok. He’s going to be. Eddie reaches over and puts his hand on Buck’s cheek. “Buck, come on, I need you to wake up.” Nothing happens. Eddie is panicking now. “Buck! Wake up, damn it!”

Buck doesn’t respond. Eddie drops his hand from Buck’s face and his head rolls to the side. Eddie forces his knees under him on the seat so he can lean over Buck and assess the damage.

Buck’s left arm is visibly broken, but that will heal. Eddie can’t see his legs, so he has no idea if they’re broke or not. He prays that they’re fine, Buck can’t handle redoing the crush injury from the fire truck. There’s blood on Buck’s shirt and Eddie reaches out to pull it up. There’s a long gash on Buck’s abdomen, deep enough that he’s going to need stitches. There’s another cut on Buck’s neck. It looks like it missed the carotid but it’s bleeding heavily. That combined with the cut on Buck’s abdomen and the cuts on his head could mean that he’ll bleed out if they don’t get help soon.

Eddie takes off his own shirt, faintly registering that there’s blood on it. He must be bleeding somewhere, but he can’t bring himself to care right now. “Buck, please, you need to wake up.” Eddie puts the shirt on the gash on Buck’s torso and presses down hard, hoping to stem the blood flow. “Buck,” he sobs, “Buck, you have to wake up. Wake up! Buck, don’t leave me, don’t do this to me. Don’t do this to Christopher. Please, Buck, we need you, I need you. Buck! Please, I love you, you can’t die, not like this.”

Eddie is truly crying now, desperate to hear his best friend's voice, to see the light in his eyes when he laughs.

Eddie hears Buck groan right as he hears the sirens and he nearly sobs in relief. “Buck, that’s it, wake up.” Eddie wipes the blood away from Buck’s eyes, still pressing his other hand over the cut on his stomach. “Come on, Buck.”

“Ed—“ Buck’s voice catches in his throat. His eyes blink open slowly, but only slightly and Eddie lets out another sob.

“I’m here, Buck, I’m right here.” Buck’s eyes flutter closed again and Eddie’s panic is back. “Hey, no, you gotta stay awake for me. Buck, open your eyes.”

With what looks like a considerable amount of effort, Buck opens his eyes. He mutters incoherently but Eddie nods. “I’ve got you, help us coming, you just have to stay awake.”

Buck nods before groaning in pain. A paramedic runs up to the car, bag in hand being followed closely by a firefighter holding jaws. Eddie nearly passed out from relief.

What comes next is more of a blur than anything else. They get Buck out of the car first and onto a stretcher, rushing him over to an ambulance. Eddie goes next, and honestly doesn’t remember much of the ride to the hospital.

Doctors rush around the emergency room as he gets checked out. A few cuts that need stitches and a mild concussion but overall he’ll be fine. He asks everyone that passes him if they know anything about an Evan Buckley but no one will tell him anything.

What if—no. No, he’s not doing that to himself, he’s not letting himself go down that road.

“Dad!” Eddie whips his head around too fast and feels a sharp pain behind his eyes. Chris is coming towards him as fast as he can with Carla’s hand on his shoulder.

“Chris,” Eddie breathes out, deliriously grateful to see his son. He pulls him into a tight hug, hoping he never has to let go.

“Dad,” Chris repeats into his neck, holding him just as tightly. “Are you ok?”

Eddie pulls back slightly to brush a piece of hair away from his son’s eyes and give him a watery smile. “Yeah, buddy, I’m ok?”

Chris nods, looking unsure. “Where’s Buck?”

Eddie chokes back a sob, looking out at the emergency room, then to Carla, then back to Chris. “I’m not sure, but we’ll see him as soon as we can, ok?”

Carla puts a hand on Eddie’s shoulder reassuringly. “I’ll go see what I can find out.”

She disappears around the corner, presumably to go harass some nurses into telling her what they know. Eddie helps Chris onto the bed and settles back against the pillows, holding his son close. He starts to drift off immediately, even though he knows he needs to stay awake.

“Eddie, oh my god,” Maddie’s voice snaps him back to reality and he stares groggily at her.

“Maddie?” he finally manages to say.

She sighs, eyes roaming over him, obviously trying to assess the damage. “I was on my way to work when they called about Evan. The nurse says he’s still in surgery but directed me to you,” she explains before he’s able to ask.

“Did she say anything else?” Eddie asks, fully awake now and desperate to see Buck.

Maddie shakes her head, looking like she’s barely holding back tears. “No, she didn’t. God, what happened?”

Eddie closes his eyes, fighting back tears as well. “There was a car accident, a truck sped through a red light and hit the driver’s side. I don’t remember much else, but it was bad. I’m mostly fine, a few stitches and a mild concussion but Buck—“ Eddie’s cut off by a sob and he has to look away.

Maddie’s eyes are wide when he finally looks back at her. She nods and clearly puts a lot of effort into composing herself. “He’ll be fine, he has to be. Everyone else should be here any minute,” she says softly. “Chim took Jee-Yun to Mrs. Lee and Bobby, Athena, and Hen said they’re on their way.”

Eddie nods, looking down at Christopher who is sitting silently in his arms.

“He’s still in surgery,” Carla says, appearing around the curtain again.

Eddie nods, thankful that she’s here if nothing else. Maddie looks up at Carla hopefully. “Did they tell you anything else?”

Carla shakes her head sadly. “I’m sorry, dear.”

Maddie nods, shrinking into herself as silence settles over their little crowd.

Eddie’s doctor comes back in a few minutes later and gives him the all clear as long as he follows concussion protocol. Eddie thanks him with less gratitude than he’s probably owed and follows Maddie and Carla to the waiting room with his hand on Chris’s shoulder.

Bobby and Athena rush into the waiting room mere moments after the other four sit down. They both frantic as Carla waves them over.

“What happened?” Bobby asks, his voice desperate.

“You said there was an accident?” Athena adds.

“Eddie!” They all look around and see Hen rushing towards them. She pulls Eddie into a tight hug, looking terrified. “Are you alright? Where’s Buck?”

“I’m—“ Eddie can’t get out the words. He can’t say anything. How is he supposed to explain this to the people he loves, the only family Buck really has he… he can’t.

Carla steps forward, filling them all in on what happened, Eddie’s condition, and what they know about Buck. Eddie sits silently the whole time, barely registering a word.

Chimney arrives a few minutes later and someone must explain the situation to him but Eddie doesn’t hear it, doesn’t notice anything around him.

They sit there in silence for what feels like hours. Dozens of people filter in and out of the waiting room as they all wait for news. Eddie sees a few people crying. Me too, he thinks.

At some point someone must have gone to get coffee because a hot cup is pressed into his hands. He doesn’t drink it.

“Family of Evan Buckley?” a female voice says. Eddie hears it distantly, not registering what’s going on until Maddie stands up shakily.

“That’s us, uh, I’m his sister. This is Eddie, he was in the car with Evan.” Eddie snaps his head up and watches the doctor walk over. She’s wearing a scrub cap.

“Of course, well, Mr. Buckley has just come out of surgery. There was quite a bit of internal bleeding from the accident but we got him fixed up.” The doctor looks at Eddie. “The paramedics told me you stopped the blood flow before they got there. You saved his life.”

Eddie nods, unable to say anything. The doctor gives him a small smile and turns back to Maddie. “He has a few broken ribs, a broken arm, a pretty bad concussion, and more stitches than I’d like to see on one patient but he’s stable. He’s still asleep, but you can go visit him if you’d like. We just ask that you limit it to two at a time.”

“So he’s going to be ok?” Maddie asks, a drop of hope finally seeping into her voice.

The doctor smiles. “He should be just fine. He’s going to need lots of rest and someone to keep an eye on him with that concussion, but he’s okay.”

Maddie sobs in relief. “Thank you. Can you take us to him?” She looks over at Eddie, motioning for him to stand up. He does, on autopilot. His mind is reeling. Buck is okay. He’s alive. I love him.

Eddie follows Maddie and the doctor down the hallway silently. The mantra of Buck is okay continuing in his head on repeat.

Maddie goes in first as Eddie takes a moment to steel himself for the sight that lays ahead.

Buck is unconscious when they walk it, although the doctor had already told them that. He’s hooked up to a heart monitor abd a few other machines are beeping around him but overall he looks better than Eddie expected. He’s breathing on his own, there’s no more blood caking his face. He has bruises up and down the left side of his body and the cuts in his face are still ugly and red but he’s alive.

Eddie doesn’t realize he’s crying until Maddie grabs his hand, forcing his eyes to meet her gaze. “He’s alive, Eddie. You saved him.”

Eddie shakes his head. “He was only on that road because of me, he wouldn’t have—“

“Stop.” Maddie’s voice is firm and there’s a strong emotion flaring in her eyes. “This was not your fault, this is that idiot driver’s fault. You did everything right, Eddie. You saved my baby brother’s life.”

Eddie stares back at her, tears stream down both their faces. Without warning, Maddie pulls him into a bone crushing hug and he winces, pain flaring from where she’d hit a bruise.

“Sorry!” She says, pulling back quickly. “I forgot.”

Eddie manages a watery smile. “It’s ok.”

They each take a seat on either side of Buck’s bed. There’s a cast on his left arm, so maddie can’t grab his hand. Instead, she reaches out and brushes a lock of hair off his face. “You’ve gotta stop scaring me like this, Evan,” she says sadly.

They sit together quietly for ages. At some point, Eddie takes Buck’s right hand in his own and squeezes. He puts his other hand over Buck’s wrist, feels the pulse beat in time with the monitor.

“I told him that I love him,” Eddie whispers. Maddie’s gaze snaps to his face, shock clear in her expression. She doesn’t say anything, simply sits and waits. Eddie takes a shaky breath, staring at Buck’s face. “He was unconscious, back at the accident and I—he needed to wake up. I needed him to wake up, I couldn’t let him die. I wasn’t thinking about anything but keeping him alive and it just—I said that he couldn’t leave me like that because I love him.”

“Eddie,” Maddie says, barely above a whisper. She looks like she wants to say something else but then Buck groans and Eddie feels Buck’s fingers tighten around his own. “Hey, Evan, are you awake?” Maddie asks, immediately moving to rest her hand on his cheek.

Buck makes a noise that almost sounds like a word and his eyes flutter open. He looks around the room slowly, his eyes pausing on Maddie before they land on Eddie. He squeezes Eddie’s hand again and Eddie chokes on a delirious laugh. “You’re awake,” he says, almost in awe.

Buck cracks a small smile. “Did you mean it?” His voice is scratchy and it comes out weak.

Eddie's heart starts beating harder in his chest. “Mean what?”

Buck looks down at their intertwined hands then back up at Eddie. “At the accident. You told me you loved me.”

Maddie stares between the two of them, fighting a smile. Eddie gapes at Buck. “You heard that?”

Buck nods. “Did you mean it?” he repeats.

Eddie is at a complete loss for words. Buck was unconscious, he was dying, he—he heard Eddie? Eddie gives a miniscule nod.

Buck laughs, although it sounds more like a cough. “Good. I love you too.”

Eddie stares at Buck. This isn’t real. This can’t be real. Eddie must have died at the accident because this isn’t possible. “Buck, you—“

“I love you,” Buck repeats, firmer this time. “I’ve loved you for a long time, Eddie.”

And suddenly Eddie is grinning. Buck is alive and he loves Eddie back and none of this should be happening but it is and Eddie is crying again. “God, I love you so much, Buck. I thought you were dead.”

Buck smiles. “I can’t believe you waited until you thought I was dead to tell me you love me.”

Eddie huffs out a surprised laugh. Maddie is looking between them both like she can’t decide if she’s happy or angry. “I didn’t want to ruin anything,” Eddie explains. It feels like an inadequate reason now that he knows Buck loves him too.

Buck rolls his eyes at Eddie fondly. “Is Chris here?” he asks hopefully.

Eddie nods. “Yeah, uh, I can—“

“I’ll go get him,” Maddie says, interrupting him. She shoots her a grateful smile. He’s not ready to let go of Buck’s hand just yet.

Buck comes to stay with Eddie and Chris while he’s recovering. Bobby and Athena offered, since Maddie and Chimney have baby Jee-Yun to take care of, but Buck declines.

“I’d rather be with you,” he says, when Eddie asks.

It’s a long recovery for Buck, Eddie is back at work after a few weeks off. But this is better than when his leg was crushed. Buck isn’t afraid that he won’t be able to return to the 118 this time around. Eddie worries about him all the time, but he knows that Buck has Chris and Carla with him all the time and at night Eddie gets to climb into bed with the man he loves.

Eventually, Buck is completely recovered and asks if he should go back to his apartment. Eddie doesn’t even hesitate before saying no. He just got Buck, he’s not letting go of him. Not ever letting go if he has any say in it.

#prompt fill #fic request #911 fox #911 on fox #911 fanfic #911 fic #evan buckley #evan 'buck' buckley #eddie diaz #buddie #buddie fanfic #buddie fic #christopher diaz #maddie buckley

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hongism · 4 years ago

Text

mists of celeste ➻ 30

➻ pairing: ??? x fem reader ➻ genre: space au, pirate au, space pirate!ateez, angst, smut ➻ Word Count: 12.0k ➻ Rating: M ➻ Warnings: language, violence, guns and weaponry, blood, future warnings tba ➻ summary: Sneaking aboard the ship of a renowned space pirate may not have been the best idea, but you’ll have to make do with what fate has handed to you

⇐ previous | next ⇒ | masterlist

✧✧✧ act four ➻ part five

“I hate playing a waiting game,” Jongho mutters as he runs a finger over the rim of his glass. The liquor inside trembles from the faint touch, small waves rippling over the surface before coming to a rest again when Jongho pulls his hand back.

You pay little attention to the movements. You’re far too preoccupied with the dainty hand-drawn map in front of you: the small blueprint you hastily drew before coming to the dingy bar thirty minutes ago. Too much of your time in the military is hazy, and the parts that are clear and at the forefront of your mind are most certainly not diagrams of whatever the military bases look like. You have little hope that your memory is serving you well, and even so, there is no guarantee that the military here on Kebos hasn’t changed their systems in the past few years. Jongho holds much more faith in your abilities, however, and he hums as he glances over your work.

“It looks good.”

You can’t keep from rolling your eyes at the tone of his voice, mostly thanks to the constant thrum of anxiety in your gut.

“There’s a big chance that this base won’t even be built the same as in the past,” you mumble. You retrace a few lines off to the side in efforts to busy yourself and quell your nerves, but it does little to help. Jongho shakes his head, and you catch the motion out the corner of your eye.

“This one has been standing for at least sixty years, according to Seonghwa. It’s merely been repurposed time and time again, so… layout should be the same. Even if it’s a little different, you know what you’re talking about. Surely Yeosang can manage it too with his experience.”

“No, he’s – he wouldn’t have spent his time in warehouses and inventory bases. Not with a royal background.” You blink down at the table with little interest, taking your lower lip between your teeth and gnawing lightly at it. “It’s too quiet. Isn’t it? Are San and Yeosang okay?”

A sigh passes Jongho’s lips as he looks over at you, then he shakes his head once more.

“They’re probably fine. They–”

As though on cue, the comm pressed to the shell of your ear crackles to life, and Jongho winces as his does the same, the suddenness of the action catching you both off-guard.

“Hey, it’s me.” You and Jongho both exchange a glance, one that holds a bit of disappointment as it’s only Seonghwa’s voice that crackles through the comms channel. “I’m just checking in – have you made it yet?” You know that the ‘you’ in his sentence is figurative — something to keep Hongjoong from catching onto what’s really going on behind the scenes.

“No, they haven’t – we, I mean, we haven’t gotten there yet,” you reply, keeping your tone to a quiet minimum.

“Can you hear me? Hello?” Relief finally comes, and San’s voice is like warm honey against your ear.

“San,” you exhale. Your jaw stutters a bit as you try to come up with something else to say, but San continues speaking before you get the chance to say anything.

“We just got past a radio barrier. I’ve been trying to reach you guys for at least ten minutes.”

“Well, comms are back online, it seems,” Seonghwa responds, voice fading a bad at the tail end of his sentence. Jongho extends a hand towards you and drops it atop your thigh. It’s a small comfort, but a comfort nonetheless, and you pass him a smile of gratitude.

“I told you not to worry,” he murmurs quiet enough to escape the comms. Your smile devolves into a slight frown, and you bring your chin forward again.

“That was the easy part. Now they need to get past the militia barrier and scanners.”

“You don’t have any faith in us?” It’s Yeosang’s voice that crackles over the comms this time, and you huff out a laugh.

“Stay quiet. There might be guards or patrols nearby.” You refuse your attention back to the map before you, trying to pinpoint where the pair might be at this point. “Hey, one of you look to the left. There should be a grey box on the wall. It’s a router to the laser scanners. Maybe tucked closer to the floor?”

“Yeah, yeah, I see one,” San responds quickly.

“Okay, you’ll need to shut that down by pulling a… um, hopefully a red wire out and cutting it? I never took care of these mechanics on jobs.” You swallow around nothing, feeling the heat of Jongho’s stare on the side of your head, but you try to push it out of your mind in favor of focusing on the task at hand.

“On jobs?” San echoes, curiosity clear in his tone. “You were a soldier. What use would have for jobs like these?” You inhale sharply, and the sound carries over the comms with haste.

“Focus, San,” Seonghwa cuts in without giving you a chance to answer his question.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll cut the wire righ–”

“No, no! Wait a second, you need to know something before going in. As soon as that wire is cute, you’ll only have a limited amount of time to get to the infirmary where the serums are stocked. The guards will notice that something is off and that there’s a break-in within the facility so speed is key,” you explain, maintaining your hushed tone from earlier as you trace a finger over the map on the table. “The infirmary will be straight down the hall, then you’ll need to take the first left, two rights, another left, and it’ll be the last door on the left at the end of that corridor. There is a chance that they don’t store the serum in the infirmary, but all new recruits are taken to one before going through induction. I’ve seen it happen too many times to forget it, so I’m fairly confident that that’s also where the operations happen and the serums should be there.”

“And what are we supposed to do if someone is there?” Yeosang inquires. You hesitate a moment, not realizing that he’s speaking to you and not Seonghwa until the lieutenant provides no response.

“Um… kill them,” you mutter. Jongho’s expression doesn’t shift in the slightest, and he remains unreadable as you search his eyes for some sort of reaction. The only response you get is from Yeosang in the form of a huff of air.

“That’s more like the killer I know you to be, Ghost.”

“You don’t know anything about her,” San sneers back without missing a beat. Yeosang hisses through his teeth – a sound that is nothing more than a whistle over the comms channel.

“Am I stepping on little lover boy’s toes, is that it? Seems like you need to bring that up with someone else before you go around claiming things for your own.”

A crash resounds, then a bang against metal that is so loud it rings in both your ears. You can only imagine what’s happening on the other side of the line, whether San and Yeosang are merely fighting with each other or in serious danger.

“Don’t you fucking call her a thing! Should I start referring to Wooyoung as ‘slave’ again?”

“You fuc–”

“Knock it the fuck off, you two.” Seonghwa’s voice growls over the line. His tone is so severe that both you and Jongho sit up a bit straighter in your seats even though he’s not referring to either of you. San and Yeosang fall silent at the sound of Seonghwa’s harsh tone, not daring to make a sound as the lieutenant continues speaking. “Fight over who has a bigger dick later. This is more important than fucking feelings.”

“I’m not the one having trouble keeping feelings in check,” Yeosang spits.

“God, Hongjoong is a fucking moron for putting the two of them on a mission together,” Jongho mutters as he rubs the skin between his eyes. “Like putting fire and ice together and asking them to cooperate.”

“Yeosang. Don’t make me tell you twice. Do not start shit, and get the damn mission done without further trouble.”

“Yes, Lieutenant.” It’s more than obvious that Yeosang is biting his tongue through the words, holding back what he truly wants to say in efforts to be cooperative, and you almost respect him for it if not the preexisting annoyance you have surrounding the man.

“You two need to hurry this along,” you say once the silence becomes too palpable to handle. “It’s almost time for a unit to make the rounds and check the systems. You need to get going before the half-hour.”

You don’t get a verbal response from either San or Yeosang, and instead, a reply comes in the form of a loud clang of metal. The line falls quiet after that, not because it’s gone dead but because neither man is speaking anymore, and now it comes down to playing the waiting game as they make their way through the base. You drop a hand atop where Jongho’s rests against your leg and clench your fingers hard around his. The wait causes you to hold your breath. You expect the worst to happen, for one of the two to say that they’ve been caught, or that your map was wrong entirely and you’ve led them into a dead end. The possibilities of failure are endless, and your mind won’t stop running through all of them.

“You said the last door on the left?” Yeosang huffs, radio crackling with noise. You exhale a sigh of relief, and tension falls away from your shoulders once you hear San’s footsteps falling beside Yeosang’s.

“Yes, yes, at the end of the corridor.”

“Yeah, we’re in the right place.”

“Are you certain?”

“It’s a big white door with the word infirmary on it, I’m fairly certain we’re in the right place,” Yeosang retorts through a scoff.

“Well, be careful going in as there could be–”

A crash interrupts your train of thought, leaving you to cut off with a deep sigh, and you roll your eyes to keep from snapping at the pair on the other side of the line.

“Do you have to be so loud and obnox—holy shit.” San’s voice falls quiet, and the insult he threw in Yeosang’s direction must not process because the Elitist doesn’t say a word in reply.

“What’s going on?”

“There’s… There have to be hundreds if not thousands of vials in here. Hell, if only you guys could see this.”

“The serum?” You murmur even though you can assume what San’s answer will be.

“Every single one… all have this strange-looking blue liquid in them.”

A stab of a needle, a syringe going into your skin, a strange blue liquid being pushed into you. Warmth, then the feeling of your blood turning to ice.

Your eyes flutter shut. You bite the inside of your cheek sharply to ground yourself, keep yourself from slipping too far into the memory, and Jongho’s hand twists so that his fingers slip through yours. You couldn’t be more grateful for the gesture now; the warmth and comfort in it grounds you just enough to stay on track.

“That’s it.”

“You’re sure?” San inquires, more of a precautionary question than anything else.

“Positive,” you mutter back without hesitation. Seonghwa’s voice crackles over next, a coolly spoken command falling from his lips that has a chill running down your spine.

“Secure the package then.”

“You want us to destroy them all?” San asks. Something twists in your gut, something so unpleasant that you could vomit just from the thought of it. This was the agreement, was it not?

“As many as you can, yes.”

Morality is far too muddy for your liking. Too many hazy and thin lines, too many places where one should read between the lines, and far too many instances in which morals can clash. Life would be much easier if morals didn’t exist at all.

Of all people, you should want these vials destroyed more than anyone else. Yet you can’t shake the thoughts that intruded the precious day, the ones which haven’t left you alone since.

No matter which way you look at the situation, you can only see it as taking away Mingi’s choice. No one is asking him what he wants, and while you understand the reasoning behind that, you cannot grasp how this is the just thing to do. Whether you give him the serum or not, he won’t have a say in the matter. Where is the line drawn? When it comes to morality, when is it okay to take away someone’s consent and leave them with nothing? Surely when it comes to protecting them, but both these options... both can defend him. What then?

“I… Jongho, we – we can’t do this,” you stutter. Jongho’s hand slips away from yours as he turns to look at you. The confusion across his features is more than evident, and you wish you had a proper explanation for him, but your mind is running a hundred miles per second without slowing down. “I can’t do it.”

“What do you mean?” Jongho’s tone holds too much warning in it. You ignore it all.

“Don’t destroy them,” you call over the comms. “San, Yeosang, don’t destroy them.”

“Why? This is what we agreed on! We were supposed to destroy them!” In the back of your mind, you wonder if San might hate you for this.

“I agreed to nothing,” you murmur, unable to keep your voice steady for much longer. Yeosang snorts.

“Then what was the point of coming here? We aren’t going to do anything except break in and leave empty-handed?”

“What are you doing, Y/N?” Jongho presses further, and his tone is much firmer than before. You can’t bear to look him in the eye – the weight of that feels too heavy on your shoulders.

“I – this is – I’m sorry. I’m sorry, J-Jongho, I–” Your words fail you. You want nothing more than to curl into a ball and shy away from Jongho’s lingering stare. There’s a certain kind of disappointment hiding behind his dark irises, one that takes you back to an all too unpleasant memory.

“How could you do this, Y/N?” This is the last memory you want to revisit right now, but you can’t keep it from overwhelming you in mere seconds.

“How could you be so selfish?” Iron bars separate you from the man, but it doesn’t keep you from catching the gleaming emotion in his eyes. “They won’t give you the luxury of death, don’t you realize that? They’ll take everything from you. Leave you as an empty shell. Throw you to the wolves. They’re going to take you away from us, Y/N.”

“Hyunwoo, I already said t–”

“Just give me some more time. We’ll get this sorted out.”

“How? There’s no fixing this, Hyunwoo! We were caught. I was caught! How do you expect to fix that?”

“I would rather die than see them take your memories of us away.”

Your chin falls to your chest. Your body no longer feels like your own, more like someone has possessed you and taken control, and that’s the only way you can justify the next words that tumble from your lips.

“Yeosang, secure some vials, as many as you think is reasonable.”

“What the hell are you thinking? Are you even thinking?” San’s words sink deep into your chest, penetrating your skin with a pain that’s worse than a knife or bullet. Out the corner of your eye, you can see Jongho’s eyes blow wide open as shock overtakes him as well. “This isn’t the time to joke around, Y/N!” You bite at the inside of your cheek, letting the metallic tinge of blood hit your tongue and swirl through your mouth rather than offering any sort of response to San.

“…Seonghwa?” Yeosang is asking for confirmation, for Seonghwa to overrule you or agree with you, and you don’t know what to expect from the lieutenant until he breathes deeply from his end of the comms.

“Do as told. Secure some vials and get the hell out of there.”

Yeosang is in the midst of replying to Seonghwa’s order when the sound of shattering glass resounds. You don’t need to be present to know what is going on, and Yeosang’s shouts confirm those suspicions easily.

“San, you fucking idiot, what are you doing?”

“I refuse to let this happen!” San counters, tone equally scathing and booming.

“I’m not – San, please, I’m not saying to give the serum to Mingi!” You argue. Every ounce of your tone is weak, too fragile to compete with the rage filling San’s, and you’re certain the words fall on deaf ears. “I can’t do – I can’t take away Mingi’s choice like this, San. If he wants it, then please. Please, if he wants it then we will need to have the serum on hand. If you would just listen to reason for a mo—”

A shrill ringing hits your ear so hard that you wince, and Jongho does the same at your side.

“He just triggered a fucking alarm,” Yeosang hisses through the din. “And won’t quit with his idiotic behavior of knocking the vials off the shelves.”

“You need to stop him, Yeos—”

“I already got three, Hwa. All that’s left is to knock the idiot out seeing as this was not part of the mission.”

“You – You can’t leave without him,” you stammer, head throbbing from the insistent blaring of alarms surrounding Yeosang’s voice.

“I know that. Your little lover boy will be fine once he’s done fucking things up royally.”

The table shudders and your cup clatters as Jongho pushes to his feet, thighs bumping against the lip of the metal, and you have to strain your neck to examine his face.

“Yeosang can’t get out of there with San alone,” he explains without sparing you even the smallest glance. Your heart strains painfully in your chest. What was the cost of your morality? To have Jongho not bear to even look at you? To hear San speak to you with such disdain in his voice? You cannot imagine morality is worth it at all if this is the cost.

“Please sit down,” you beg, hand stretching out desperately to catch hold of Jongho’s sleeve. “There should be – there’s a back exit across the hall, through the door and to the right. Yeosang, you can get out through there.”

“Easy enough. San’s like a feather compared to you, Jongho. I’ll be fine on my own.” The claim appeases the dark-haired Berserker for the time being, and he sinks back down to the bench without another word. You’re more than grateful for the huffs coming from Yeosang and ringing alarms in the background that fill the messy silence hanging between you and the man. “The exit is right here. Where do I go after?”

“Um, you take the first left you can find and follow the path you used to get there. You’ll recognize it, at least you should. Hopefully, all the guards will be inside thanks to the alarms. We should meet you near the hangar bay.”

“Meet him closer than that,” Seonghwa cuts in. His voice has fallen to whisper, no doubt to shroud the words from Hongjoong’s ears. “He can’t carry San the whole way back with the vials on his person too. He’ll need help getting back with both in one piece regardless of what he claims.”

“He’s right,” Jongho mutters. This time when he stands up, he takes hold of your arm and pulls you with him. The grip is surprisingly gentle and light, and for a moment it feels as though you have done nothing wrong in his eyes. “Can’t believe how quickly things went to shit.”

It is an opportunity to apologize. You recognize that much, but your damn pride screams at the edges of your thoughts and tells you not to apologize for doing the right thing.

“It’s fine,” you utter instead. Defeat creeps in like a plague. “Everyone got out in one piece.” Jongho’s gaze shifts to meet yours.

“At what cost? Hongjoong will tear the crew apart because he can’t think straight, and now – now you would join him in that? What are you thinking?” The confrontation hits you square in the chest, and you nearly trip over your own feet as Jongho continues to guide you along. For several moments, all you can manage are a few shakes of your head.

“I know this isn’t what you wanted. This wasn’t the agreement for you to stay but… Mingi needs to make this choice. Not Hongjoong, not Yunho, not San, not you. It has to be Mingi.” Silence ensues between the two of you. You can only drink it in for the few precious moments it lasts before Jongho struggles through his next statement.

“Deep down… I know you’re right, and deep down I know that my desires are selfish and biased.” Jongho manages to maintain his steady pace, eyes so focused on the ground before him that he nearly walks into a wall before you move him aside. “But if I let him go through with this procedure, I don’t know what I will do. Remaking Mingi is a cost too high. I would not be able to have my redemption, I would not be able to see my family ever again, and I – I would not be able to forgive myself either.”

You come to a sudden halt where you are, and the pause forces Jongho to jerk back and face you at last. His eyes shine in a way that hurts to look at, tears that threaten to spill over, but he pulls them back before they can fall.

“Listen, Jongho, I don’t know what happened with your family, and I’m not asking to know that either. That needs to be something that comes from you when you are ready and no one else. But there are no rules for redemption. Believe me, I have tried to find them and I have tried to follow them. It can come from anywhere and anything. My redemption – mine is in the form of a handful of pardon papers with no signature on them, and I am waiting for the day where I can forgive myself enough to put that name on there and hand them over. That door – it has been closed many times, but that doesn’t mean that the door is locked. It means that there will be another opportunity in the future. The same goes for you and Mingi. Giving Mingi this choice could be your redemption for all you know. Helping him and making sure that he gets to do something for himself, that he gets to make a choice based on what he wants.”

“It’s… it’s always been about helping Mingi,” Jongho whispers. His lip quivers as he speaks the words, raw emotion pouring through, and in that moment you can truly see the level of restraint and control Jongho has over his emotions. Even when on the verge of tears, the Berserker exudes no anger, no aggression – merely pure and untouched feelings. As vulnerable as the moment is, you know that if you don’t get moving now, Yeosang will be at risk of getting caught especially with an unconscious San and stolen goods on his person. You force your feet back into motion, and Jongho moves alongside you with little resistance.

“There can be a solution then, Jongho, by making sure that Mingi is the one to make the decision.”

“You’re r-right. I know that that has always been an option but I fear what Mingi might say. And I fear the hold that Hongjoong’s word has on Mingi. I cannot trust him to make a completely individual decision without being influenced by Hongjoong in some way.”

“And what if Mingi didn’t know where Hongjoong stood on the issue?”

“That’s… a possibility, for sure. He may not know what Hongjoong would want or ask of him; he could only assume. But he doesn’t operate on assumptions, just as he doesn’t make choices for himself. How is he supposed to know which one is right?” You wish you had the time to stop Jongho again and look him in the eye.

“I can’t pretend to know or understand Mingi better than you do, Jongho. But of all people, you should be the one able to answer that question, no?”

“I should be, yes.” Jongho lets his sentence trail off with a sigh, and he brings a hand up to comb through his hair, pushing it off his forehead with the movements. “I know that Mingi will make the decision that feels best to him. I worry because there are so many unknowns involved. However, I-I want to give the choice over to him, and I want to give him a chance, if nothing else. At the end of the day, all I want is for Mingi to be alright.”

“Then be the one to give this to him, please.” Perhaps you are merely searching for some sort of justification, something that makes your decision okay and fair, and perhaps it is selfish of you to thrust this onto his shoulders rather than bear the weight yourself. But as Jongho nods, everything feels okay for that brief moment. Then the Berserker disappears from your side before you can blink, and a flash of blond appears in front of you. It takes some time for you to recognize Yeosang standing there, profusely sweating to the point where his bangs are glued to his forehead thanks to the moisture. You hardly process the limpness of San’s body around Jongho’s shoulders as Yeosang passes him over to the Berserker, and you think that if you dwell on it any longer, the pain will be too much to handle.

Then, all of a sudden, Yeosang is facing you head-on and it’s as though you are staring down the gauntlet of death just from the look in his eyes. It doesn’t soften even as Jongho shifts San’s weight in his arms and begins to guide the way back to the hangar.

“Did you get the serum?” You ask, tone so thick that your voice is hardly audible. Yeosang falls into step with you when you move to follow Jongho.

“Of course I did,” Yeosang scoffs as he exposes three vials of stark blue liquid. You blink away before the memory comes swirling back.

“Do you still think it was the right thing to do?”

“What of you? Was your decision the right one?” Yeosang counters without missing a beat.

“Of course it was. Actually giving Mingi a choice in the matter is what’s fair.”

“Then you are naive and narrow-minded, only looking at one part of a larger picture. Think about San’s reaction. Truly stop and think about it. Because of your decision and what you chose to do, you took away his choice in the matter. Jongho’s choice. Seonghwa’s. Mine. The people who didn’t want this did not get a choice, did they?”

“Sometimes, not everyone gets to make a choice. There is right and wrong, and the right thing to do was what I did. Jongho understands that and he agrees with me. He is willing to cooperate and talk with Mingi about this matter.”

“Would San think the same? It didn’t sound like he would earlier. In fact, it sounded like San was so vehemently adamant about it being the wrong thing to do that he was ready to do anything to stop it. You can handle me hating you but I wonder — can you handle San hating you?” You sink your teeth into your lip. The skin splits under the pressure, and you taste blood on the tip of your tongue.

“He will understand that it had to be done,” you whisper. “He has to.”

“Yet you only say that to save yourself from the pain of reality, do you not? You don’t truly believe it. Because after all that he’s been through, don’t you imagine that San finds more security in his own morals than those of others?”

“Stop.” You intend for the word to be spoken with force and anger, but the syllable breaks on your tongue as the corners of your eyes burn with unshed tears. Your lip quivers dangerously, and despite all your efforts, you cannot keep it from happening. Yeosang’s glare is nothing compared to the pain ripping through your chest.

“You don’t even try to pretend to be an Elitist. Perhaps Wooyoung’s suspicions were right.”

“What are you talking about?” You hiss between gritted teeth. Yeosang merely shakes his head and refuses to answer your question.

“To answer your original question,” he continues after a small pause, “yes, it was the right decision. It was the right thing to do. And you – you need to be secure in that. You need to stand by it and be strong. If you knew beforehand that you would not be able to stick to the plan, you should not have dangled opportunity and empty promises before San and Jongho’s eyes.”

“And what would you have done?” You spit.

“I would have done the same as you,” he admits, shrugging his shoulders as though it’s the most casual thing in the world. “I cannot pretend that I would not make the same mistakes you have for my weaknesses are far too obvious in that regard.”

“Wooyoung.” It is spoken more as a statement rather than a question, a mere confirmation of what Yeosang said, and his small nod only adds to that.

“It is clear that you care for San. Whether that care runs as deep as the care Wooyoung and I share for each other is yet to be seen, but I would encourage you to tread carefully. Most pain can be fixed with time, but certain mistakes are irreversible. You’re toying a dangerous line between what can be undone and what can’t.”

“Is this a warning, Yeosang?”

“Not one spoken out of spite, as surprising as that may be. One spoken from experience.” Yeosang’s tone falls a bit quiet with the words, and even though it lasts less than a second, you spot a flickering emotion in his dark eyes. The briefest moment of vulnerability that is gone before you know it. “Regret is a disease, Y/N. Once it blossoms even the smallest bud, it won’t leave as long as you live, even if the worst is yet to come. Even if you haven’t done what you set out to do yet. Even if you have only dreamed about crossing that line in your worst nightmares. It never leaves you, and I would not wish that pain on even my worst enemies.”

It hurts to swallow, like you are trying to down a brick that has somehow lodged itself in the column of your throat, and you couldn’t be more grateful for the silence. You don’t have to suffer in it for much longer either, because the shadow of the ship looms before you, tucked away inside the hangar and shrouded from prying eyes as it has been throughout your whole stay on the planet. Jongho shifts San’s weight on his shoulders as he slips through the airlock and turns to face you and Yeosang.

“I’ll take San to the medbay to let him rest. You two should probably head straight to the bridge.” His gaze lingers on your face for a little while longer. You wait, expecting him to say something more, but that never comes and you are left with his silence until he turns on his heel and heads down the corridor.

Yeosang doesn’t wait for you to gather your bearings before doing the same, walking in the opposite direction, and you nearly trip over your feet in your rush to chase after him. He provides no conversation, although given what he shared with you not long ago, you aren’t sure you even want to hear him speak out of fear of how much it might hurt. His warning has left the bitter taste of ambiguity and curiosity on the back of your tongue. It was always clear that he cared for Wooyoung more than anyone else, but for him to speak with such pain in his eyes – however brief that pain may have been – means that the pair have been through more together than you initially imagined. And if Yeosang could barely conceal his pain effectively as an Elitist, you cannot imagine what kind of pain you would have seen had Wooyonug been the one telling you that. And somewhere in the back of your mind, a vague and fuzzy image arises of San’s face, eyes filled with that pain and tears that you wish not to think about. You can at least be glad when you reach the bridge to find Seonghwa standing there alone, eyes watching the entrance with bated breath. He heaves a deep sigh when you and Yeosang step through, fists relaxing by his sides.

“Jongho and San?”

“Medbay,” Yeosang mutters, stepping around the lieutenant to get to Hongjoong’s quarters. Seonghwa lets him go without a fight, but the moment you try to do the same, he slips in front of you. Hands find your shoulders, and his grip hovers between a firm hold and a gentle touch. It is the most minimal form of intimacy, but it’s more than you have had from Seonghwa in at least a week.

“What happened out there?” You know what he’s referring to and what he’s asking but you cannot provide the answer he’s searching for.

“Nothing happened,” you mutter back. Seonghwa’s touch disappears, and you curse yourself for missing the warmth so much. It returns less than a second later as he presses his hands to the underside of your jaw and cradles your face as though you’re made from glass. He doesn’t utter a word for too long; instead, his gaze continues to trail over every centimeter of your features like he’s trying to memorize the sight in front of him or see through you to find the truth. You know it’s not logical but it feels as though hours pass before he speaks again.

“We can talk later. Right now we ought to see Hongjoong about this mess.”

“I would rather be anywhere else.”

Seonghwa tilts his chin to the side, pondering your words for a few seconds, and then he nods slowly. It’s like he can see straight through your walls without having to do more than blink.

“You should go see San. Check on him and see if he’s doing well. Yeosang and I can easily handle Hongjoong on our own.”

You return the words with a nod of your own and pull away from Seonghwa to do as told. You don’t get more than a foot away, however, Seonghwa’s fingers closing around your wrist and pulling you forward once more. Air catches in your lungs. Your eyes find his nearly onyx ones, refusing to break contact even to blink as he guides you back with hesitant steps. You gasp out a shaky exhale when your back hits the wall. Seonghwa doesn’t stop moving forward until he’s intruded on your breathing space, lips so close to yours that if you exhale too much, your mouths would connect.

“How foolish of me to think that I was going to… forgive me for being greedy, I – I missed this,” Seonghwa whispers.

“Being physical or me?”

“Need I remind you that I swore I would not have you unfairly?” Seonghwa tilts his head back only to huff out a laugh. When he returns to his original position, you are right there to greet him with a kiss, slotting your lips against his with a force that surprises the both of you. Seonghwa inhales sharply, and his shoulders tense from the shock of the action before he settles into the touch and presses back into your lips with equal fervor. You refuse to part until you’re desperate for air, pulling away to breathe in each other’s air. “I suppose that means you missed me as well?”

The question is meant to be teasing and nothing more. You are well aware of that, and yet it flips an invisible switch in your head that sends you reeling.

“Did you miss me, Y/N?”

Bright, bright eyes sparkling with all the love in the universe.

“Y/N? Are you alright?”

“I would give my life for yours if you would just let me.”

Your chin dips closer to your chest, shrouding yourself from Seonghwa’s prying gaze until he shifts with you in attempts to make eye contact.

“I’m here, Y/N, talk to me.”

“Don’t subject me to a life without you in it, Jisung.”

Seonghwa’s fingers brush over your chin, and he lifts your face just enough to examine your distraught expression with one that is equally concerned and distressed.

“I-I…” The words you truly want to say die on your tongue.

“I could never. I love you far too much to do that.”

Gone.

“I’m here, Y/N.”

“Promise me that you won’t.”

Jisung is gone.

“I’m not going anywhere, Y/N.”

“I swear on my life that I’ll never leave you.”

Perhaps promises are made only to be broken and that is the only reason why he could not maintain the one he made to you. You’re certain that your life could be described as the sum of broken promises, and all you can amount to is a gross combination of bitterness and pessimism. Even though Seonghwa says he isn’t going anywhere, you can’t shake the pain that has overstayed its welcome yet refuses to go away. You would put all your trust in him if not for that same pain. You owe him an explanation – a decent one in the very least, and a proper one since he’s been so patient and gentle with you – and yet all you can manage to do is slip out of Seonghwa’s grasp.

“I – Hongjoong needs you more than I do right now,” you whisper. Looking up at Seonghwa’s expression provides a completely new punch in the gut, and you could burst into tears on the spot just from the sight of it.

“Yet even if you did need me more, would you let me help you?’ Seonghwa asks. His tone does not rise about a whisper, and you know that is merely because it conceals most of the wobble in his voice.

“If I knew what I needed, then yes.” You release a dry laugh, and it sears your throat as it breaches the air before you, hand coming up to comb through your hair. Seonghwa says nothing more. It may not be an opportunity to leave but you take it as one, slipping back out through the corridor and leaving in the direction you came.

Each step away from the bridge seems heavier than the last. You aren’t sure if it’s the exhaustion finally catching up to you and hitting hard or if the emotional distress has caused it, but walking all the way to the medbay is a struggle of its own. The hazy thoughts that occupy your mind don’t help in the slightest, especially those surrounding the fuzzy and unwelcome memories of Jisung. Sheer willpower is the only thing keeping you on your feet at this point surely because otherwise you would collapse or pass out on the floor outside the door.

The metal door slides open to reveal the white expanse of the medbay, only disturbed by San’s presence on one of the beds and Yunho’s form sitting at the foot of his bed with a tablet in hand. Yunho snaps his chin in your direction the moment you step through, eyes flipping from apprehension to something more relaxed once he realizes who you are. San seems to be comfortably asleep with no wires or tubes connected to him. Just resting. You wonder how long it’s been since he had this sort of opportunity to rest without being disturbed.

“You just missed Jongho,” Yunho says, returning his focus to the tablet. “Couldn’t bear to be around me any longer.” A scoff follows, and you shift your weight from foot to foot.

“Is everything alright between the two of you?”

“I’m supposed to be the doctor, not you.” Yunho laughs, a sound that is loud and clear but does not disturb San’s rest in the slightest. Your gaze trails over the Spectre before coming to a halt on Yunho’s side profile. You shrug even though he isn’t looking at you, hoping that he will catch the motion in his peripheral.

“What happens when the doctor needs someone to talk to?”

“He goes to the captain.”

“What about now? Would you go to the captain now?”

Yunho pushes the tablet onto his lap. Sharp brown eyes flitter up to meet yours, and the first and only thing you notice is a certain lackluster gleam in them. The usual confidence and grandeur to his aura is dull and dismal. He nods his head towards a spare stool, and you’re quick to drag it forward and sit near the foot of the bed.

“No, I wouldn’t. But you’re probably wondering what I’m thinking too. After preaching about how awful the military was for taking away your choices, how could I of all people stoop so low?”

“Everyone sees situations differently.”

“I regret bringing it up and making it an option.” Yunho toys with a loose thread on the blanket under him as he speaks. You’ve never thought the man to be young – childish and immature in some regards, mostly thanks to his jokes and sense of humor – but he has never looked to be a child in your eyes.

Right now, with his legs pulled under him and hands clenching the white blanket, you can say with confidence that Yunho looks like a child. One who is lost and without direction, seeking answers to questions that he cannot ask. And yet, it only makes sense that he would appear that way. He mentioned how he grew up in his mother’s profession learning medicine and tending to wounded people day in and day out. The festival was a luxury he only got once a year, and from the way he spoke of it, it sounded like it was the sole luxury he had.

So no, you have never seen Yunho in this light, but now it is clearer than ever that Yunho suffers and struggles because he was a child who was forced to grow up too quickly.

“A good doctor wouldn’t do that.” He speaks in such a way that sounds as though he is trying to convince himself of that fact rather than you.

“Are you a bad doctor for one mistake?”

“I am a bad doctor for not being able to properly help Mingi.”

“Why is that your job though? Especially when Jongho says that he’s the one best equipped to handle it.”

“I witne–it’s just in my nature. I have seen too much pain in my life to sit idly by and watch others suffer. I have to help people, no matter who they are or what they are. I have to fix them because if not then — then I… what am I if I don’t? A failure of a doctor. So if this fixes Mingi then why would I not take that chance?”

“Would a good doctor take away someone’s choice?” You inquire. “Do you not give every other member of the crew one? Why is Mingi different?”

“Nothing else works. What am I supposed to do? All possible treatments over the past six years have failed. The progress we’ve made is minimal at best but Mingi is still in pain. As a doctor, I am supposed to take that pain away but I only see it getting worse and worse with time as he learns more and understands his feelings better. For what? I know that it’s because of me. I just… I want to take it away.”

“What are you trying to do, Yunho? Are you afraid? Is that it?”

Yunho doesn’t respond right away; instead, he glances down at San’s resting face with tears welling in the corners of his eyes. His next breaths come in shaky gasps – desperate attempts to keep from falling apart. You have only seen him look so fragile and vulnerable once before: when he held a gun to a thug’s head and told him to move out of the way.

“I am only afraid of one thing and that is failure,” Yunho admits once the silence has dragged on for a bit. “And every time I look at Mingi, I see a reflection of my failures. Forgive me for doing things that will take away that reflection.”

There is a stark selfishness in Yunho’s words, an inherent interest to save himself rather than Mingi, and that sends a surge of anger through your veins. You huff air through your teeth, letting the sound ring before standing up and moving towards the door once more. You hesitate just before stepping out and turn to face Yunho head-on as you speak your next words.

“I won’t forgive you for being a coward who is afraid to face the thing he fears most or for being a selfish prick who only cares about his own pain. You can run all you want but don’t ask for forgiveness.”

It puts Yunho on the defensive; his eyes blaze and he sits up a bit straighter with a hardly concealed venom to his gaze.

“And you would know that feeling well, wouldn’t you?” He laughs, and this time the sound holds none of its usual mirth and brightness. “Running? That’s all you’ve ever done. You can’t outrun who you used to be because you are too afraid to lose it. Letting go and moving on is your biggest fear and the thing that holds you back the most. You can stand there and preach about how I should face my fears that are practically trivial compared to yours while you do what? Keep running and clinging to the past?”

You aren’t aware of the tears in your eyes until they hit your cheeks, leaving a path of messy streaks down to your jawline. Yunho has surely already seen the effect his words have on you, but you jerk your head away from his prying gaze anyway and glare at the metal of the door.

“So much for being a good doctor,” you hiss out with as much stability as you can manage. Then you are out the door and gone into the hall. There is nothing more to say, and his words have already taken root in your chest, stretching its reach far into your veins, and every fragmented memory and broken flashback you’ve had throughout the day comes rushing back with the force of a typhoon.

“I could never. I love you far too much to do that.”

“Promise me that you won’t.”

“I swear on my life that I’ll never leave you.”

Every muscle in your body feels heavier than lead, and you aren’t sure how you manage to keep pushing yourself forward without collapsing. The tremble in your fingers is a sign of what’s to come, panic surges through your veins and swells around your vision, and you reach out to brace yourself on the wall.

“Just give me some more time. We’ll get this sorted out.”

“How? There’s no fixing this, Hyunwoo! We were caught. I was caught! How do you expect to fix that?”

“I would rather die than see them take your memories of us away.”

What would they say if they could see you now? Perhaps you replaced them too quickly? You were quick to push them out of your life? What did Hyunwoo sacrifice himself for? Your self-destructive plan to pardon his crimes and put yourself back in jail?

The memories swirling around you are so vivid that you can almost feel Jisung’s hand in yours when he appears at the forefront of your mind. That vision doesn’t last for long though because something new and unwelcome hits you out of nowhere. It strikes with enough force to make you stumble and collapse to your knees, fingers clenching against the cold floor as a new image comes to life.

Everything is dark around you, save for the pale yellow moonlight that filters through a small grate in the ceiling. You can hardly see the scenery outside thanks to the puffy clouds covering the round and full moon. Your prison rattles as the driver hits a bump in the road, then a horse neighs, and you curl into yourself more. The shackles around your wrists are heavy, chains dragging on the floor of your walled cage, but the thick collar about your neck is the only one you can feel. It’s tight enough to choke you, letting you breathe just enough to stay conscious but nothing more than that. Somewhere off to your left, there is some whispering. You can’t understand it – the language is foreign and strange to your ears – but when you glance over, you find a child bearing similar shackles as you.

“Lasu – lasu kan tan wogo?”

You don’t respond even as her eyes meet yours.

“Lasu kan tan wogo?”

The image disperses, her whispers fading into a vague nothingness as you return to reality, and all you can see is the haze of the lights above you blurring with the walls. The edges of your vision are speckled with black dots, and your head hurts so badly you can barely keep your eyes open. You don’t have to for much longer because you can feel yourself slipping into unconsciousness, but just before you do, you see a pair of unfamiliar black boots approaching you.

Warmth. Everything is warm as strong arms slip around your body and lift you high with overwhelming ease. Nothing about the touch or scent of the person is familiar, and you know that it can’t possibly be Jongho or Wooyoung. It shouldn’t be San or Yunho either, but that’s more logical than a random intruder coming onto the ship. A hand brushes over your forehead, hot against your clammy and cold skin.

“I could sense your distress all the way from the cargo bay.”

A man. Cargo bay. Sensing your distress. A Berserker? A Siren? Seonghwa? Not possible, he wasn’t anywhere near the cargo bay.

“It’s okay; you can calm yourself some. Just rest for now.” His tone is so gentle and warm. He could put you to sleep just like this, and it only takes one more sentence for him to do so. “I’ll bring you to Healer.” Your body falls completely limp in his grasp and darkness takes over you, a pleasant sense of calm rushing to greet you as you slip into unconsciousness.

…

The walled prison has returned stronger than before. The road remains bumpy and rocky as you ride along in the darkness, the same child still sitting a foot away from you with her knees tucked close to her chest. You eye her form with a sense of wariness; her nonsensical mutterings haven’t ceased. In fact, they’ve only increased in both volume and quantity no matter how obvious you try to be about ignoring her.

“Lasu kan tan wogo? Cezi, lasu kan tan wogo?”

“I don’t know what you’re saying,” you mutter as a new word comes into her sentences.

“Hosun gatu lu!”

“I don’t know what you’re saying. I’m sorry, I-I can’t help you.”

“Lasu kan tan wogo?” Her ceaseless mutterings return, and you let her voice fade into the background as you look around the cell. You don’t know how long things carry on like that, with noisy chains and neighing horses drowning out the foreign words. When the prison comes to a halt at long last, you don’t know what to expect next. Ahead of you, a door bursts open to reveal several cloaked figures shrouded by the moonlight. One reaches forward and grabs hold of your chains, jerking you roughly. You blink against the harsh light filtering in behind them, unable to defend yourself as the person pulls you out of the cage.

More cages just like your own fill your vision. They are all around you, filling the rocky and flat terrain like they belong there, all containing people of all ages in chains like yourself. Another figure tugs your companion out of the prison, and her voice grows in volume as she continues to repeat her question over and over. No one answers her.

You don’t know what comes over you – perhaps a surge of panic and fear – but you yank against your captor’s grip with as much force as you can manage.

“H-Help! Someone – someone help!” You cry out, voice croaking like a frog, and your throat burns from the effort. One of the chained prisoners in front of you turns at the sound of your voice. Dark charcoal hair flutters in the still air as he whips around to face you, eyes wide and curious as they land on you. All the air leaves your lungs. Your heart constricts painfully in your chest, and you choke on nothing as his face comes into focus.

Wooyoung.

A cloaked man steps in front of you and effectively blocks your line of sight before you can examine the sight further.

Wooyoung.

A searing pain blossoms over your cheek, and it takes a moment for you to process that the person has just punched you.

Wooyoung.

Another blow comes down on your head. You feel your body go down before your mind catches up, and you enter a harsh freefall. Your chains clatter as you tumble to the ground.

“Y/N!”

“Wooyoung!” You jolt awake, chest heaving as you gasp in deep breaths of air. There’s only one person in the room with you when you wake up, and you don’t need to see him to know who it is thanks to the shrill yelp he releases upon hearing your outburst. He slips backwards and falls off the stool he was sitting on, ass hitting the floor roughly. Ironically enough, it’s Wooyoung who now sits on the floor with wide and curious eyes.

“Holy fuck, you scared the shit out of me!” He exclaims, lips folding into a soft pout. “You’re up earlier than I thought you’d be though. You haven’t even been resting for that long.”

You glance around the room, taking in the white walls of the medbay, and your gaze shifts to the bed where San had been earlier. It’s empty now, made in such a way that makes it look like no one was ever there to begin with.

“S-San? Where is he?” You stammer as Wooyoung pulls himself back to his feet.

“He woke up not too long ago and went straight to the bridge to talk to Hongjoong.” Wooyoung brushes his hands over his thighs, rubbing the fabric of his pants until it’s clean of dirt. When he sits back on the stool, he folds one leg under him and peers at you with a skeptical gaze. “Why’d you say my name when you woke up?”

“I…” How are you supposed to explain your dream when you don’t understand it yourself? The strange language, the weird scenery, Wooyoung – you aren’t sure where to even start with it. “Di-Did – I, um, have a question. Did w-we know each other at one point?”

Wooyoung’s frown deepens. He leans back a bit, eyes scanning your expression for any sign of humor or sarcasm there.

“Did you hit your head or something?”

“No, no, just – did we know each other at one point?”

“Um… before you came to the ship, I had never seen you or known who you were. I only heard about you through word of mouth and bounties. Why do you ask?”

“I had t-this dream, and you were in it. In chains and a collar like the one you have now, but… but I was too? I don’t know what it means.”

“It was just a dream, Y/N,” Wooyoung says. He shakes his head a bit, bangs shifting on his forehead, and the image of him whipping around to face you in that misty landscape returns.

“It felt real. It didn’t feel like a dream – more like a memory.”

“I really didn’t know you before you came to the ship, Y/N. I don’t know what you think – who you think I am, but… I don’t know. Maybe you heard me and Yunho talking while you were asleep? And that’s why I showed up in your dream?”

That is debatable at best, but you opt not to voice your doubts.

“Where is Yunho anyway?��

“Ah, he didn’t want to be here when you woke up. Thought you wouldn’t want to see him.”

“It’s probably the opposite actually,” you huff.

“Yeah, I – Yunho told me what happened,” Wooyoung explains. He tilts his head from side to side as he ponders his next words then slides his stool forward so that he can prop his elbows on the bed. “You know Yeosang and I have spent a lot of time together. Lots of years at each other’s side and lots of time in each other’s space. We’ve said a lot of things that were harsh. We’ve been cruel to one another with our words and what we say. Been hurtful and mean and torn each other apart. Not because we don’t care – quite the opposite really. Sometimes our fear overshadows how we feel about one another. Misunderstandings happen, tempers flare, people say things they don’t mean in the heat of the moment. But that doesn’t mean that it should or will ruin your relationship with them. Hell, Yeosang is an Elitist. He barely shows an ounce of emotion most of the time, and I struggle with that because I just have to take his word for his feelings. I don’t get the pleasure of seeing how much he cares about me all the time because he can’t always show it. We’ve struggled with that together and individually, but we never let it destroy us.”

“You and Yeosang must really love each other if you’re so confident about that.” Wooyoung offers a weak smile in response to your words, but the light doesn’t reach his eyes.

“We do…”

“Why don’t you sound certain then?”

“I love him, and he loves me. That’s it. It can’t go anywhere, and we don’t put a label on anything because we simply can’t.” Wooyoung stops himself from saying anything else, and his gaze drops to the mattress.

“Why not?” You don’t get an answer straight away, although that isn’t Wooyoung’s fault.

“Crew to the bridge.” It’s Seonghwa’s voice, as even and steady as ever, and both you and Wooyoung glance up to the speaker in the corner of the room. Wooyoung doesn’t move a muscle, however, and he continues to stare at you with an unchanging expression before he answers your question.

“We went to a fortune teller once – just the two of us before we even joined the crew or knew anything about pirates. To see my future, not Yeosang’s, but… when the woman looked into my future, Yeosang wasn’t in the picture. She said that we were not meant to be in each other’s lives. Our meeting was a mistake, and it was not what fate had planned for us. And as such, any attempts we made to stay close to each other would inevitably end in flames. All because the stars didn’t align for us.” Wooyoung laughs weakly before he glances back up to your face.

“Do you truly believe it?” You inquire in a quieter tone, matching Wooyoung’s solemn expression. The man heaves a deep sigh. A smile stretches his lips but it isn’t kind or humorous in the slightest, merely painful. That thought you had of seeing how much pain Wooyoung would be in when speaking of Yeosang suddenly comes to life before your eyes, and it is far worse than you imagined it would be.

“Every time I kiss him, it feels like someone is digging a hole in my chest and prying my ribcage open so they can carve my heart out. Does that sound like fate to you?” Wooyoung pulls himself up and sits straight as a board. “I don’t care for fate or destiny. I would rather it not exist, but I can’t deny the feeling that I get in my chest in those moments of intimacy. In a perfect world, I would get to call him mine without worrying about what fate has planned for us. But this? This is far from a perfect world.”

Whatever words you thought to say die on your tongue in the face of Wooyoung’s dismal explanation.

“Crew to the bridge,” Seonghwa repeats, sounding a tad more exasperated this time around.

“Come on, let’s get up there before we make them mad. You’ll be okay to walk?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” you reply with a nod, letting Wooyoung pull you to your feet. “Who was it who brought me in here anyway? I think I passed out before I saw.”

“Mingi!” Wooyoung beams, and his smile stretches so wide that his nose scrunched up and his cheeks shine. “I stepped out of my room right as he was walking by with you, and he told me that he found you having a panic attack in the hallway.”

“All possible treatments over the past six years have failed. The progress we’ve made is minimal at best but Mingi is still in pain.”

“It’s amazing, honestly. A few years ago, he probably would have killed you to put you out of your misery had he found you. But now – now he knows how important saving people is to Yunho, and he understands it even if he doesn’t agree with it.”

“And every time I look at Mingi, I see a reflection of my failures. Forgive me for doing things that will take away that reflection.”

It is clear to you in that moment that somewhere along the way, Yunho got things twisted. He viewed progress and growth in terms of the amount of pain a person was in, not the shifts in their decisions and opinions. And surely there are reasons for that – perhaps that story Hongjoong mentioned of how Mingi killed Yunho’s lover affected things in some way – but you cannot shake the feeling that it runs deeper than that. The boy who grew up too fast thanks to his profession as a healer is all too similar to the one who was robbed of his childhood to be a killer.

You and Wooyoung are the last to reach the bridge. The crew is spread out more awkwardly than the last time you all were here together: San and Yunho linger off to the side with flat expressions while Mingi and Jongho stand closer together, and Yeosang stands near the captain’s chair, keeping his hands folded neatly behind his back. Seonghwa is on the opposite side of the chair, and he bears a similar stance to Yeosang except he rests a hand on the back of Hongjoong’s chair. It’s close enough to brush over the man’s shoulder, but Seonghwa opts not to and keeps the distance he has currently. You try not to let your thoughts wander back to your exchange with Yunho. He glances up at you when you step onto the bridge though, and the neutrality in his visage crumbles into regret and guilt the moment you lock eyes. Wooyoung has to nudge your arm to get you to continue moving.

“Right, now that we’re all here…” Hongjoong clears his throat and sends a pointed look toward you and Wooyoung that has you both mumbling quiet apologies. “And now that Jongho and Mingi have had time to speak one on one, we need to come to a decision about this whole ordeal prior to leaving tomorrow morning. After no shortage of discussions with the lieutenant, we at last reached an agreement to allow the choice to be Mingi’s and Mingi’s alone.”

Wooyoung’s hand darts out to grab yours, and you’re just as caught off-guard as he is. While he releases an audible gasp, your lips part in a silent one that has you looking over at Seonghwa to gauge his expression. Despite the exhaustion, you find a certain degree of relief there along with a faint smile that blooms when he blinks down at Hongjoong’s head.

“And I believe you’ve explained everything to him, Jongho?”

“I have. As promised, no biases.”

Hongjoong nods only once then turns to Mingi. He stretches a hand out, fingers unfurling to reveal two vials of blue liquid in his palm.

“What would you have me do, Captain?” Mingi inquires the moment Hongjoong reaches forward. For a moment, you think Hongjoong will answer that question truthfully. However, all he does is offer a tight smile.

“I would have you decide what’s best for yourself.”

The tension throughout the room is so thick that you could cut through it with a knife, and Wooyoung’s grip on your hand increases with each second that passes in silence. Anxiety still bubbles in your gut despite the fact that you got what you wanted. You wanted this for Mingi, you were so desperate for it, but you can’t keep yourself from wondering if it will all go to waste when Mingi makes the choice.

“I… don’t like being in pain,” Mingi starts. Hongjoong’s jaw shifts and his hand wavers, but he manages a steady nod. “And I do wonder what it would be like if I took the serum but… at the same time, I have memories I do not want to let go of. All that’s left of my father are my memories of him. Even if I should despise him for the choices he made, I would not like to forget those things. I have many regrets and have made many mistakes as well but – those are not things I would like to forget. I need them to learn more and better understand why they are mistakes and why I regret them. But I can’t pretend not to know that you would rather me put it behind me and move forward without having that hold me back.”

“I wou–I will not share my bias,” Hongjoong says, lips pressed tight together.

“Even if you did, my decision would remain the same. I don’t want it. Captain, I – Hongjoong, I would rather they be destroyed.”

Hongjoong’s face falls so flat that it terrifies you. You cannot read his next move, whether he’s angry or relieved, any of the thoughts running through his mind are lost on you in his stillness. There are signs of relief on San’s face, as well as Seonghwa’s and Jongho’s, which you expected from them. Yeosang seems to be thinking of something else, and based on Wooyoung’s wavering hold on your hand, he is grateful to hear Mingi’s decision as well. Yunho won’t look up from the floor.

Hongjoong stands up slowly then steps down from the chair to be face to face with Mingi. The Berserker towers over him, but when Hongjoong looks up at the man’s face, you see zero intimidation or fear in either one of them. He lifts one of Mingi’s hands and pushes the two vials into his palm, closing his fingers around Mingi’s.

“However you see fit to destroy them, I would only ask that you be the one to do it.” Hongjoong pulls away from Mingi after that and returns to the captain’s chair to sit back down. “Lieutenant Park constructed the plans for if this was Mingi’s decision, so… he will provide the details himself.”

Seonghwa pulls his arm off the back of Hongjoong’s chair to stand up straighter, nodding to the captain before speaking himself.

“The planet is home to many bunkers thanks to the asteroids circling the planet. In the event that these asteroids fall into the atmosphere and collide with the planet, the inhabitants are to use these bunkers as safe havens to protect themselves from harm. Over time, many bandit crews have taken to claiming bunkers for their own, including our allies in the Bloodletter Crew. I exchanged a call with them last night to discuss the usage of one of these bunkers, and we came to an agreement about allowing Mingi to reside in one of their bunkers for as long as we are out on this mission. It will prevent him from having to go see Vladimir with us, but also protect him from Vladimir’s men circling the ship while we’re gone. They will also take some of the cargo off our hands as that was the price they named for this exchange. A bit of lost money in the long run, but well worth it for the safety of the crew. The bunker they’re providing is not far from our destination, so San and Jongho will accompany Mingi to the bunker and reconvene with the rest of us outside. From there, we conduct the mission as discussed. San and Jongho will take left-wing while Yunho, Wooyoung, and Y/N maintain the right. Yeosang and I will accompany Hongjoong to meet with Vladimir. The wing teams are merely there to watch for any tricks Vladimir might have up his sleeve. He is not beyond assassination attempts in plain sight, so all of you need to be as alert as possible.”

“Is that all?” Hongjoong asks, glancing up at the lieutenant.

“Yes, Captain, everything as we discussed.”

“Very well then, I would advise you all to go and rest now. It’ll be an early morning and a long day tomorrow. And Jongho, if you please stay a moment so we can talk in private. Mingi as well, if you would.”

“Okay, can we have a celebration dinner right now, please! If Jongho is gonna be a while that means he doesn’t get to cook!” Wooyoung exclaims as he tugs his hand away from yours. “Seonghwa, please give us a decent meal for once, I am not too ashamed to beg for it.” The lieutenant snorts and rolls his eyes but steps down from where he’s standing nonetheless.

“Unlike Yeosang, I would not like to hear you beg for anything. I’ll still treat you all either way though.”

Wooyoung sputters at Seonghwa’s comment, cheeks flushing a bright red in seconds, and you can’t keep from smiling at the small exchange. San moves with Seonghwa when the man steps forward, and Wooyoung returns to grab your hand before trying to drag you from the bridge in his excitement. Jongho stays behind as asked, and Mingi lingers at his side as asked. Yeosang is the last to move, waiting for Yunho to catch up before falling into step with him. You are about to bring your chin forward to focus on making sure that Wooyoung doesn’t guide you into a wall, but something happens to keep you from doing so.

It is as discreet as possible, but you catch sight of the exchange nonetheless. As you do, your breath hitches in your throat and you forget how to function for a moment. It's the flash of blue that passes from Yeosang's hand to Yunho's, slipping under sleeves with haste so that no one sees it, and the hushed whispers Yeosang hurries to send in the healer's direction. You don't know what they're talking about, but there is a growing hunch that it has nothing to do with Mingi or Hongjoong. Yeosang would not be this secretive if that was the case; no, this is something quite different, something outside of the current situation entirely, and that scares you more than anything else.

✧✧✧ a/n: lmfAO 12K?!? bITCH HOW!!! okay but anyway i honestly forgot what to do with myself it feels like it’s been years since an update and i was so anxious to get this one out and it ended up being !!! 12 fucking k!!!! what the hell!!! crazy stuff fr oml i hope you enjoy seriously, this one was a joy to write and i enjoyed it so much so i hope that translates and you enjoy as well!!

taglist: @faeriewoobin @sugarrimajins @atinyinwonderland @2504-life @lil7bluedragon @sparklychangbin @jeong-uwu @jeonartemis @anothershorthuman @xxbluestrifexx @haotheheckk @noonawriter @lostscenarios @nlost21 @mirror-juliet @okokokok123-45 @purple-aeon @theoinkypiglet @toothlessshiber @atinyarmyx1 @simpforhyunjin @hwangwoosan @takitaro @vampire-jimin @softyubi @drumboydowoon @chatsgotmytongue @just-a-starfruit

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