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femdomlieeh · 4 months ago

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Sunset (m)

Sub!Pussy drunk!Needy!Beomgyu (TXT) x Dom!Afab!Reader

THEMES—nsfw ✧ a bit romantic ✧ and emo ✧ just a tiny bit toxic ✧ a bit nasty

WARNING—4.3k wc ✧ public sex (car by the beach) ✧ good boy & bratty!beom ✧ oral (f rec.) ✧ body worship (f rec.) ✧ teasing (f/m rec.) ✧ face-sitting (m rec.) ✧ praising ✧ light degradation (calling him dirty, your little slut etc) ✧ hickeys (f rec.) ✧ spitting (m rec.) ✧ hand job ✧ crying ✧ brief cum play ✧ cumming untouched ✧ hair pulling (m rec.) ✧ pet names (mommy, baby, little slut etc)

NOW PLAYING—SWEET / I THOUGHT YOU WANTED TO DANCE ✧ Tyler, the Creator ft Brent Faiyaz & Fana Hues

M.LISTS—txt ✧ latest updates ✧ read on wp

A/N. To sort out any possible confusion, this is what the interior of the car looks like; vintage, flat like a bed style. BUT imagine it's a roof less car🤟

You were sitting on the driver's seat with your right hand on the steering wheel, left hand up in the air, warm wind kissing your skin before you put it down to rest on the edge of the car door. He was laying across the passenger's seat with his head on your thighs, staring up at the sky. You were on your way to nowhere in particular. This was your definition of adventure. His smile was bright contrary to his past, his eyes were full of the hope of a child and his laugh was the sound of an angel. With his sock-clad feet on the edge of the door and his long, fluffy, soft hair on your exposed legs he lowly sang along to a song.

You were watching the road, he was watching the pineapple purple sky until his eyes were on you. Smirk grew on his face. God knows what was going through that mischievous mind of his.

You remembered his soft lips crafted by the most-detailed-and-in-love artist on the skin on your thighs. The kisses he left were so light, barely brushing against you. Your hand found its way to his hair, he looked up at you with those impure eyes as the kisses he placed got slightly rougher. He loved seeing your reactions to his touches, gaining your approval; the satisfaction of your pleasure. Insecure boy. And damn was he horny too. Or was he in love?

Maybe he just lived in the moment.

Who would have the idea of spontaneously driving to nowhere for no reason, taking off their shoes, resting their feet on the edge of a car driving in high speed to get fanned for free by Mother Nature, put their head on the driver's lap and start kissing their thighs?

Beomgyu.

That was the simple answer. Beomgyu and nobody else.

He was the kind of character you saw in films and wish you'd had the pleasure of acquainting yourself with in real life but you don't because those people came from someone's fantasy and were carefully written and too rare to find in real life. You were lucky to have met him. Your dear, sweet Beomgyu.

After some minutes, he turned his body completely and laid on his tummy so he could get easier access to your skin, instead of having to turn his neck to kiss. Wearing shorts today had its perks. Kisses were peppered with so much care as he put his hand on your left leg and caressed it lightly so it'd be occupied and get attention too. As each second passed by it got harder and harder to focus on the road. He was such a distraction and he knew it. He loved distracting you. He loved any attention you gave him really, whether it was direct words when you'd praise or degrade or just knowing he was present in your thoughts whenever he received a cute "I miss you" text during long work hours.

"Baby, what are you doing?"

After two extra passionate kisses he answered, "Loving you."

"I'm driving."

Kiss. "Yes." Kiss. "And?" Kiss.

"Can't you love me some other time?"

He looked at you. Kiss. "Impossible." Kiss. "I can't not love you." Kiss.

You put your hand on his cheek softly, "I love you too, Beomgyu." Looking at the road, you couldn't see him but you felt his cheek move into a smile against your palm upon hearing your words. You smiled back at him, taking a quick glance at him and detecting a strand of hair in his eyes. In a split second you brushed his hair away, before Beomgyu went back to kissing your thighs again. He had always been so affectionate towards you, showing how much he appreciates all of you: your mind, your face, your body — your everything. He was so good with his words, hands and lips. You loved all of him.

A slow Lana Del Rey song later his featherlight kisses grew deeper until he was sucking on your flesh, trying to create purple marks. "You're making hickeys? How juvenile."

He laughed at your comment. It was true. Last time he remembered he'd put effort into creating hickeys was back in high school. "Maybe, but I bet your thighs will be so pretty with hickeys on them," he went back to work, making sure to suck more harshly to emphasise his point.

You were starting to get wet. And it was hard concentrating on the road and trying not to look down at the pretty man's lips on your lap every minute. You were driving on an empty country road so, thankfully, nobody could witness this raw act of love. Five or six or — who knows? — that's how many hickeys Beomgyu had created already and he was not finished yet. He experimentally bit on your thigh, looking up at you to observe if you liked it. "Hmmm." His bite got a little bit harder, still looking at you. "A bit gentler, Baby," you patted his head. "Okey," he smiled cutely at your small action and nickname and went back to the same force as on the first bite. Fuck, you needed to get out of this car and fuck him soon or you would go crazy.

The sun had begun to set. 19:22. There was plenty of time until the sun was down and gone. The sky was still somewhat bright with colours of pink and blue. You wanted to watch this beautiful sunset with Beomgyu but he was busy with his face in your thighs. Your eyes were on the empty road, looking at the signs and trying to come up with where to go when you recognised a name you'd heard of before when talking with friends about a nice little beach trip — if you made a turn in a few kilometers, you would soon make it to a pretty and unknown beach. Perfect!

You looked down. So many hickeys scattered around only on your right thigh, the left one only being touched by his hand. You rested your hand on the back of his head, playing with his long locks, "You're so pretty." He mumbled a little thank you on your skin, back to kissing your thigh gently now.

It all felt so sweet and romantic somehow, his big hand massaging your left thigh, slowly moving towards the inner part, fingers ghosting teasingly on your naked skin. He was distracting the driver with his mouth and hands — how could he make that feel sweet and romantic to the point you almost forgot how irresponsible you were being? Almost. Your eyes weren't on him. Most of your attention was on the road and he was only getting a tiny fraction of the attention he craved so much. Because he needed all of your attention right now. Sure, he needed your hands stroking his hair but he also needed your smiling eyes on him and your sweet and mean whispers; eyes and mind full of him only.

Determined to get more of your attention, he moved his unholy fingers towards your pussy. "You're so dirty," the grip you had on his hair tightened and he whined. He would always do this, turn to being bratty if he didn't get enough attention from you. If a good boy wouldn't get all your love and touches at least a naughty boy was sure to get all your degrading words and oh so lovely punishments — and he enjoyed being your naughty boy as much as your good boy; he could be anyone and anything you wanted as long as it meant he was the sole object of your affection.

His whines were always so pretty and light, causing you to clench your pussy around nothing. It never failed to impress you how he whined and moaned whenever you were the one being pleasured and not him. He moved up a bit and kissed your shorts right above your clit. There was fabric hindering the full sensation but you still felt it a little, already so sensitive and wet from the teasing. He looked up at you. You had shorts on so it was a bit difficult to pleasure you the way he wanted to, but Beomgyu was creative and undid your zipper. As much as he wanted to pull down your shorts so he could properly eat you out — he wasn't that stupid and careless to actually do it when you were driving, right? — so you were curious where he was going with this but also nervous.

Nose pushing up your shirt so he could kiss the skin on your waist, naughty hand gliding under the shorts to feel your hip. There were no cars on the road — and there hadn't been for a while now — so you decided to tease him a bit back, put him in his place so he knows better than to completely ignore that you're driving and that he can't do everything he wants right now, he has to be patient and wait. You grabbed his chin and made him look up at you, looking back at him for a split second. "Open your mouth."

He did so even faster than you averted your gaze, waiting for your spit. "Aw, so eager now are we?" You said, still looking at the road.

"Please, look at me," he nodded and whined impatiently, mouth ready for your spit. He looked so pathetic, bedroom eyes and long, styled hair a bit fucked up from you gripping it. Touching your skin but not getting to feel your wetness, not getting to pleasure you was in a way teasing him too, his cock now hard and pink.

"You're so pretty, Baby." His mouth was still open but he almost looked like he smiled for a second.

You spat in his mouth fast, immediately looking back at the road. He swallowed it happily like always, no matter how humiliating and mean it was, especially since you didn't even look him in the eyes or let your saliva drip slowly into his mouth, much more intimate, like you usually would do. "Good boy."

"Thank you, Mommy," he went back to kissing your waist, nose under your shirt, eyes looking up at you. Your right hand went back to resting on his head, threading through his long hair occasionally. "Look at me, please." There was something about you spitting in his mouth that always turned him so pathetic and shameless about his neediness — if you wouldn't judge him for swallowing your spit then he could express himself sexually to the fullest.

"As much as I want to, I can't, Baby. I'm driving," you took a quick glance down at him. His eyes were so glossy, almost like they would fill with tears at any second. You were so distracted by him but you were still aware enough to only look at him for a maximum of two seconds at a time. Although you were driving below the speed limit and hadn't seen another car in the past half hour you didn't want to risk anything.

He whined at that, causing you to smile. Soon it would be the opposite. His hand went under you shorts again, moving down your hip and to your lower stomach. You had a feeling you knew where this was going. Spitting didn't help slow him down and learn to be patient. No, spitting so meanly in his gaping mouth was the first time he'd had almost your full attention during the whole car ride so he had to continue misbehaving so you would humiliate him some more, giving him more and more of your attention. Sweet, stupid, sexy Beomgyu was something else.

His long fingers went lower until they reached your slit, happy now. "Baby—" Then, somehow, under your tight shorts he managed to move your underwear to the side so he could slip his long, thick middle finger in you. "Hm?" he mumbled against your waist, mind half listening to you and half inside your pussy, eyes rolled back like it was his dick in your pussy and not just his finger. Fuck. You had to find a way to get off the road but you were not very familiar with this road or even this part of the country — but like said before, this adventure had no directions or map.

"Are you this desperate, slut?"

He pulled his hand out to stick his wet finger in his mouth, licking, savouring the little taste he got of your pussy and mumbling an 'mhm'. He wanted more. He didn't just want to suck on his finger. He wanted your pussy on his face, wetness on his tongue and all over his face.

"Please, look at me, Mommy," he mumbled like a slut, sticking his pussy wet finger inside you to lick your sweetness again, eyes never leaving yours, "Need your pussy."

"You have to wait, little slut," you soothed him with your hand on his cheek.

He felt like crying. He needed you to stop the car somewhere; anywhere, he didn't care if he had to lay on the cold evening sand on the beach that would get all over his clothes and hair or, fuck, he would even be ok in the woods next to a camp site with German hikers as an audience as long as you would sit on his face. He needed you and your attention now. His dick was leaking pre-cum and you had only touched his face and hair so far.

"Please, Mommy," he kissed your stomach, middle finger deep inside you.

"Baby, wait, be patient," you were struggling too. Maybe you should just say fuck it and drive across everything in your way until you reach the beach so you can park the car and then park your pussy on his face? (Obviously no, be a responsible driver!!)

He wasn't satisfied with your response, you didn't sound anywhere near as needy or bothered as he was — your eyes didn't even leave the road for a second to look at the man whose face was on your lap — so he decided to take matters in his own hands and began to finger you deeply, easily adding a second finger with how wet you were.

"Fuck, baby!" you moaned, grabbing his hair and arching your back, eyes still on the road.

He took the opportunity and, with the help of his unoccupied hand, pulled down your shorts mid-thigh, making you shiver at the cold you felt as your wet underwear was exposed to the air. He looked up and blushed when he saw you already looking at him with your needy eyes. You were looking at him! His lips moved down your stomach and lower until he reached your underwear-covered pussy, placing a big kiss on your clit. You arched your back again, the sensation was so much greater now that only a thin fabric was between you.

Moaning, you looked at the road and saw a sign that told you there was a parking nearby in 800 meters. Fucking finally! He began kitty licking you and at this point you were so sensitive and needy that you had to pull him up by his hair, much to his dismay as he whined and his eyes filled with tears. "Why?"

"Baby, I found parking."

"Oh! Fucking finally!" As if a switch was flipped, his frown turned into a smile, a tear escaping his eye. He leaned into your touch as you brushed the tear away from his cheek.

You slowed down and turned the car into the parking lot, which was just grass with faded sprayed parking lines, miraculously deserted. He started kitty licking you over your underwear again. You moaned, grabbing his hair, "Fuck, Beomie, can't you wait for a little until I've parked? You're really that needy?" "Yes."

You decided to park the furthest away, turned towards the dead beach so you could have a view of the sunset and ocean — and the yellow, orange, red and pinks of the sky reflected on Beomgyu's pretty face, dirt-colored eyes twinkling like stars. "Baby, fuck, slow down," you had to pull him off your pussy.

"I can't," he took this opportunity to fully pull off your shorts to discard them to the back. "You didn't give me any attention when I just wanted to love you."

You kissed his pout, "You will have all my attention now, Baby."

The pout turned into a smile. "Thank you, Mommy." He pulled your right leg up, positioning his face in your pussy, dropping your thigh on top of his neck. His tongue immediately went to work, kissing all over your pussy, underwear still on. He always liked eating you out with your underwear on first so he felt more rewarded when they were off and he could taste, smell and feel your pussy so much more.

But you were having none of that, pussy clenching around nothing, aching at this point. "Stop teasing me and eat me out properly," you pulled your underwear to the side, grabbing his hair to push him more into you. He was looking at you and you could see the smile in his eyes, content he had your eyes on him and your pussy on his tongue. You had been teased and turned on so much already that you knew it would only take a minute or two of his talented tongue to cum. He too could sense you were near, hearing your gasps and moans, feeling your back arching, looking up at your eyes. His hands were on your thigh and boob, touching you the way he knew you liked it. The way his hand moved up your thigh to grab your butt never failed to make you feel hot.

"Choke me with your thighs, please?"

"If my slut wishes it," you smiled at him, flexing your thighs around him a little, not sure how much he could handle yet. Hair matted on his forehead, tears filling his high eyes, hands grabbing your skin, moaning against your pussy, and the colours of the sky on him. You didn't know it yet, focused on the pretty view that was Beomgyu, but he was leaking so much pre-cum there was a stain on his pants from the sweet familiar taste of you, seeing you in pleasure along with the pineapple purple sky sunset behind you.

"Fuck, you're doing so good for me, Baby. Your mouth was made to eat my pussy, wasn't it?" He nodded, mouth still against your pussy, tears flowing by now. It was true. He eats it almost everyday, sometimes he'll lazily lap at your pussy under the sheets in the morning, sometimes in the shower if you'll let him (yes, he can do that), sometimes when you're watching a boring movie he will lay on his back on the sofa and ask you to sit on his face, sometimes he'll get on his knees as soon as you open the door to your home after a double date because he's jealous some other guy made you laugh a lot, sometimes when you're waiting for noodles to cook on the stove he'll give you puppy eyes so you'll let him eat you out on the countertop — fuck, sometimes when he's bored he'll randomly get on his knees in front of you and beg you to please let him have a taste. Safe to say he has learned every little trick to please you and make you cum in a few minutes just by eating your pussy. And he loves it.

"Mhm, you're such a good boy for me, my sweet little pussy hungry slut," you pouted at him condescendingly; he moaned at the mean praise, hips twitching up. You looked down at him, there was a huge wet stain on the front of his pants. "Awww, Baby, you're so wet just from my pussy. I should let you cum on it for being such a good slut, right?" His moans on your pussy were so desperate and sent sweet, sweet vibrations that tipped you over the edge, thighs shaking around his neck, "Fuck, I'm cumming, Baby." He slowed down, eating your cum, helping you calm down from the intense orgasm, not overstimulating you. But after a while it became too much, your pussy way too sensitive for his never ending kitty licking, so you opened your thighs and pushed his head away.

"You did so well for me, Beomie," smiling, you patted his head softly, seeing the sunset shine in his pretty eyes, your cum glistening all over his lower face, tears dried, lips pulled into a smile after he was finished licking them clean. You pulled him up from between your thighs to give him a kiss on his forehead after pushing some damp hair away, "You want to get your reward now, Baby?" He gulped, still, not answering your question. "Baby... Don't tell me you already came—" you pulled down his pants to have your suspicions confirmed; he did, in fact, cum untouched. "I'm sorry I didn't mean to cum without your permission, and I really wanted to hold back so I could cum on your pussy when you told me, but it felt so good to have your attention and taste you and-and— I couldn't control it. I'm so sorry," he cried, apologizing profusely.

You held him in your arms, fingers carding through his long, beautiful hair, "Beomie, it's okay, no need to say sorry. I'm very flattered actually. Besides your pretty mouth did so well for me that I can't be mad at you. You were such a good boy." He hummed against you, pecking your neck every now and then. After he calmed down, he pulled back to look at you; tears on his cheeks and half of the sun in his eyes. You dried his tears with your fingers and kissed him on his lips, calling him your good boy. The look in his eyes wasn't sad anymore. He gulped again before trying to give you his best puppy eyes, kissing the back of your hands. You knew he wanted something whenever he acted this clingy and cute, "Yes, Baby?"

"C-Can... Can I still cum on your pussy?"

You giggled, grabbing his cock, "You're hard again, this fast?" He hid his face with an arm, flustered, "Mhm. You kept calling me your good b-boy." "Awww my cute little slut. Getting hard from being called a good boy?" you giggled because although this was dirty, it was still somehow cute in a way how he got hard from your praise alone. He shook his head, face still hidden by his arm, "Your good boy." You smiled. "Mmm, Baby. You really are my good boy?" He nodded. You looked down at his dick, it was hard, pink and twitching, dirty with his previous cum. "Then show me your face, I don't want you hiding from me." His dick twitched and did as told. "Good boy." He shook his head, "I-I'm Mommy's good boy." He was always so cute and malleable whenever he came untouched and heard those sweet praises that tickled his soul. You kissed his shoulder as a reward. "Yes, mine. Now let me lay down so you can sit between my legs." "Oh yes." He did as told, hands behind his back without being told — he knew how you wanted him. You pulled him down to you momentarily to hold his cheeks and give him a quick kiss, both of you smiling into it. "I love you so much." "I love you more."

His pink dick was leaking pre-cum already. "My sweet boy won't cum without my permission again, right?" He whined, embarrassed, "I won't, Mommy, but please stop teasing." You giggled, he will cum any moment now you already know especially since he's so sensitive from his orgasm. Holding his dick confirmed your suspicions, Beomgyu moaning and dick twitching at your small touch. "Please, please, please," he muttered, tears already in his eyes, "Please, Mommy, I wanna cum on your pussy, please?" There was something about cumming on your pussy that drove him crazy, maybe it was because he would get an excuse to lick your pussy clean off him. "Not yet, Babyboy. I wanna play with you a bit first," you started moving your hand up and down on his cock, his loud moans following immediately after. He was struggling, biting his lower lip, pinching his arms behind his back, not looking at your naked pussy because he didn't want to cum without your permission again. "P-Please, Mommy. Ngh— I've been a good boy for you, please can I cum?" "Oh have you? Weren't you a bad boy the whole drive? And then you even came without Mommy's permission, right?"

He whined, tears running down his eyes again. "Please, Mommy, I'm so sorry I just wanted your attention. I-I always wanna please you and have your attention. Wan' be your personal toy." You smirked, going faster, "Yes, you are my little toy. So pretty and dirty for me." "Yes, yes, always. I— Fuck, I'm cumming, Mommy. Please, let me cum on your pussy, Mommy," he cried, looking at you with his slutty eyes. He knew how to get to you; how to look so sexy for you that you just wanted to reward him. "You can cum, my good b—" "Oh fuck, fuck, fuck— Thank you, Mommy." His eyes rolled back as white ropes of warm cum covered your pussy. "You did so well for me, waiting for my permission," you hugged him as he came down from his high, kissing his cheeks. "Really?" He pouted, fishing for more praises, which you knew and granted him, "Yes, really. My good boy." You kissed his pout, "Now clean up your mess." He smiled.

You and I, we fell in love

I ain't read the signs, ain't know what it was

But God gotta know he might have peaked when he made you

The cosmos' only mistake is what they named you (what that mean?)

They should call you sugar, you're so sweet

Even if

You left me out here stranded

My feelings wouldn't change a bit

My heart beats triple time when I see you

Somethin' I can't control

If I compared you, the sun is a stand-in (sun)

You got a smile that could light up a planet (smile) yeah (oh, oh)

And you look so good (yeah)

And you smell so good (yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)

And you taste so good (yeah)

And you're so, so good (yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)

You're the sweetest (yeah)

Yeah, you are, ha-ha

Sweet like, like motherfuckin' brown sugar sweet potatoes (are you ready?)

Or somethin'

Ha-ha

The plan was to stick my toe in and

Check the temperature, but

Next thing I know, I'm

I'm drownin'

— Tyler, the Creator

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dorkybunnydotcom · 1 month ago

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Tomura never really understood your obsession with all the cute sweet stuff you wore and surrounded yourself with. Your room was like a shrine to every cute character in existence, your clothing made you look like a doll, and all your interests were just as cute; scrapbooking and reading shoujo manga and the occasional obsessive collecting of plushies and figures.

He didn’t get it. When you first met he gave you one glance and made up his mind about you; your where small, and weak, and childish- just like every other stupid person in this world he despised.

To his absolute dismay he was constantly proved wrong by you; you were also resilient and kind in a way that made you awfully stubborn and almost scary at times, you where good to him, you were quick witted, he was constantly at a loss with you, confused at how someone so delicate and weak seeming could make his heart ache.

You looked fragile to him, and where it at first made him angry now it just endears him to you more; he knew deep down you can care for yourself but he wanted to dote over you on the constant. He couldn’t help it- he had never felt this way about anyone else. Tomura Shigaraki is not a gentle person, but for you he wants to learn how to be.

So there you where by his side, clinging to his arm ( he for a while refused to even touch you with his hands- not unless he had his gloves on ) or sitting next to him while he played video games with spinner or laying on his bed watching him game on his PC, and at times falling asleep in his arms, curled into him and soaking up his warmth.

Tomura absolutely melted for you, he tried his best to make it seem like he didn’t, he threw out weak insults and rude comments, but you never took them seriously. He started to insist on doing things for you, claiming it was because you were ‘ too weak ‘ to do it yourself- an awful cover story for the fact he wanted to dote over you like you really were his doll.

He loved you more and more every day, almost to a level of obsession, it made him sick sometimes just how much you had him wrapped around your pretty little finger.

He loved when you sat on his bed when he played video games, all your stickers and paper and sheets on his bed, the way you focused so heavily on something as stupid as scrapbooking, the way your nose scrunched up like a little bunny and the way you huffed when you accidentally placed something the wrong way.

He loved it when you cuddled into his lap too, even when he was in the middle of a game, even when he would complain or call you irritating he still made sure you were comfortable. Nothing made him happier than the feeling of his cute little doll fast asleep on his lap.

He loved the way you looked, the way you did your hair, the way you dressed and did your makeup- so much to the point he learned how to do it all. He loved the days when you were too tired to wake up, he loved helping you get ready, he loved fixing your hair and putting in your socks for you and making sure your accessories looked good- the way your eyes slowly would blink at him as he did everything for you because you were just that tired.

It’s a constant battle in his head, his brain telling him not to let this make him so weak- but his heart just melting every time you so much as glanced at him. He would try over and over to stop it, but his love for you only grew more and more.

Tomura Shigaraki is not a romantic, he doesn’t care about people and he certainly doesn’t want to be bothered with stupid mundane things… he doesn’t like weak cute girls who look like dolls, not at all.

Well, at least that’s what he convinced himself of until he was back at your feet, helping you put on your shoes.

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───────

Tomura Shigaraki with a Girly / Doll- Like S/O ( this one goes out to all my fashion lovers tea bee h ٩( 'ω' )و )

#mha x reader #mha #shigaraki tomura #tomura shiragaki #tomura x reader #shigaraki x reader #tomura shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #mha shigaraki #bnha #bnha x reader #dorkybunnywrites

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eliciana · 9 months ago

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Reverse SAGAU: The Weird Door At My Café

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2(here) | Chapter 3 | ...

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Tw: Reverse!Isekai!Sagau, Normal Au, Café Au, a bit of cussing like this bit 🤏.

Reader: Gn!Reader, Adult!Reader, Café Owner!Reader

Characters: Reader, Paimon, Traveler

Note: Restaurant to Another World animanga inspired au. You can slide into my dms if you ever want to be tagged in my works just tell me what series you want to be tagged in or all of them. thank you <3. Also, I may say that the characters other than the reader may be a bit OOC cause it's been a long time since I played genshin and I'm just finishing all of my works with my knowledge left from playing the game. So sorry about it 🙏🙏.

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You stood, motionless, your eyes fixed in disbelief upon the distant scene before you. As the wind cut through the air, a shiver ran down your spine, leaving goosebumps in its wake. The purity of the air surrounded you, carrying with it an intoxicating scent that smelled pure. The warm touch of the sun's rays caressing your skin affirmed that this experience couldn't possibly be a figment of your imagination. A fleeting thought of doubt crept in, but you quickly dismissed it; after all, you had never dabbled in any kind of drugs. This moment, as unbelievable as it seems, had to be undeniably real.

With careful fingers, you gently retrieved your fallen shoe/heel/slipper from the bed of plush, emerald-green grass. As you slipped it back onto your foot, your eyes instinctively wandered upward, transfixed by the expansive stretch of blue sky above you. It was quite unlike the very bright pixelated one you see on your screen. Everything that you see within the door was real and not a nightmare.

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After composing yourself, you went inside your cafe, close the door, drag a chair nearest to the door, took a seat on the chair you placed infront of the door, and contemplated life. A deep heavy sigh got out your mouth as you continue looking the the strange thing infront of you. "What now? What do I do? Should I just lock it?" you asked yourself and looked at the door. Welp, well, there goes your master plan. Suprise suprise there's no keyhole and having a key would not make any difference. "Ugh."

You sat up and opened the door again, only to be baffled to see a different scenery other than the distant City of Mondstadt. The door was now currently in the Liyue Harbor. You closed the door and opened it again, you were now in Inazuma. Close, open, and now in Sumeru. Once again, you are now in Fontaine.

"Yeah bye." you closed the door again and returned the chair from where it once was. Contemplating what you should do next, your feet carried you around the whole café. You went to the counter and decided to make yourself something to help with calming yourself first in order to think clearly. It was a good thing that you had brought all of the materials and ingredients you needed in the café because you had thought of opening the café tomorrow. But with how things are now, you don't know what to do.

Teyvat is filled with many dangerous beings such as hilichurls, slimes, etc. You are but a normal human being with no experience in fighting and fighting your baby cousins was not enough of an experience to be able to fight toe to toe with monsters you have only seen through a screen. Yes, a gun would probably best to use but you don't have a permit for that and you don't want to be in jail when you have just barely open your dream café. But nobody had to know, right? What if-

A deep sigh fell from your lips once again. The stress is really getting in to you, huh? The bitter/sweet aroma of (coffee/tea/juice) filled your sense of smell. You were making your favorite, (your choice of coffee/tea/juice). After some time of finishing your drink, you took it along with a (pastry of your choice) that you had in your car, in which you had thought of eating to celebrate the opening, and sat in a chair facing the door. Taking your time in eating/drinking, many thoughts come and go in your head to solve the predicament you are in now. You had even thought of postponing the opening of the café until you had thought of a way on what to do with the door.

Of course you read the fanfics circulating all around the genshin fandom and one of the those that you have read was SAGAU where you might be the imposter or the creator of teyvat or you become a villain or anything in between. The most common of them was being an imposter. What if you were to become the said imposter if one day a person will open the door to your café? What if they kill you? What if-

*creak......*

Your rambling came to a stop as you looked at the door horrified. Oh no no no no no no NO NO NO! YOU JINXED YOURSELF DIDN'T YOU?! THIS DAMNED FATE-

'Oh dear God, Buddha, Allah, Deities, whoever higher being there is, pls help me...' you thought as you clasp your hands, praying to higher beings. Before you could even feel it, tears cascaded down you face to the table. "I'm nOt ReAdy tO dIE yeT... Ughhhhhhhh" you sobbed into your hands loudly like a child lost in a mall.

"Hello?" a person peaked from behind the door.

Fuck.

____________________________________

The Traveler, along with Paimon, was doing their daily quests until they saw something shining in the far distance. Their curiousity made them want to investigate it.

"Hm. Why is a door in the middle of the forest with no support or whatsoever?" Paimon mumbled as the door came into their view. The Traveler also had the same thought.

"Is it perhaps a magic door of some kind? I think w-"

*creak*

The Traveler stopped speaking as the door opened but from where they are right now, they couldn't see who opened the door and couldn't get to ask since the door closed with a loud bang when they were going to get closer.

"Well... that was something..." Paimon looked at the Traveler. "Traveler? What's wrong? BREATHE! YOU'RE GOING TO DIE AT THIS RATE!" Paimon brought tons of fried egg out of the Traveler's bag and smacked it into the Traveler's mouth and forced them to chew the egg.

After confirming the Traveler is back into top condition, Paimon asked them what the hell happened to them.

"I-I don't know. I suddenly felt something when whoever opened that door and the air around me became heavy that it became hard to breathe..." The Traveler shooked their head gently and sighed. "I also felt something strange. The energy of whoever is beyond that door, excluded an aura that is very familiar to me, but I don't know who or what it is."

"Hm. Paimon thinks that we should open that door and see whoever that and see if they truly are familiar to you or maybe perhaps this connection that you feel is related to your sibling!" Paimon twirled around the air, exaggerating her words with her actions.

For once, Traveler thought it was a good idea at first but there is also a flaw in that idea. A flaw that might cause their life if whoever is beyond that door is hostile and will kill them. It is better to be cautious then to be 6ft underground before finding their sibling.

_________________________________________

Taglist:

@udretlnea

#genshin impact #genshin impact traveler #sagau #genshin sagau #genshin impact sagau #sagau genshin #self aware genshin #genshin reverse sagau #genshin reverse isekai #cafe owner! reader au #gender neutral reader #gn!reader #sagau x reader #genshin x reader #•works[🍡]•#genshin series

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 2 years ago

Text

See No Evil

Pairing: John Price x F!reader

Synopsis: The flowers came every week -- Tuesday, two O’clock, two minutes after your break. The only problem was that you knew they weren’t coming from John.

Word Count: 17.5k

Warnings: Stalking, violence, intense gore, blood, abduction, angst, fluff, protective!John, not quite smut, swearing, stereotypical ‘Bad Guy’ character who gets his ass beat, minor character death

A/N: Finished this at 3am so forgive the absolute deterioration of the plot near the end.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

The flowers came once a week – Tuesday, two o’clock, two minutes after your scheduled break. The Triple Twos your coworkers would joke, slapping you on the shoulder with wide smiles and questioning eyes as they continued by asking if John had done something to piss you off. That was the only excuse to spend so much money on flowers every single week; the man had to have done something absolutely unforgivable.

You always found yourself fake chuckling at the accusations with a tense jaw and flickering eyes, looking to the empty corners and the glass front doors as the delivery man exits the building; whistling a tune. Choking down the bile in your throat.

The problem was that John hadn’t done anything wrong, and the tightening in your chest had told you that something more sinister was going on even if you didn’t know exactly what. Another part of you, the common civilian voice in the front of your mind, hissed that you were just being paranoid.

But something was just off.

There was always a note that came with the gift, and it was always stuck on a cardholder; the metal shimmering in the white light. It was a stark contrast to the black paper trapped in it, keeping your eyes transfixed like a void in the earth. You could feel your heart drop every time your gaze locked onto it and the blood-red lettering, like the fibers were bleeding with every stab of a long-gone fountain pen.

The flowers themselves made you pause the first time you had gotten them. Jess, the kind old woman who works the front desk, had come and gotten you herself, and that alone was unusual. Like a man wearing shorts during winter – not entirely uncommon, but still surprising when you saw it happen to say the least.

“Why,” Jess had muttered to you as you gave her a confused look as to why she was in your department in the middle of the day, “That John of yours is just the sweetest. The hydrangeas are the prettiest shade of blue, Dear. The man of yours was an absolute God-send. A pity I’m married – I would have tried to snatch him up!”

“Flowers?” You frowned, running over thoughts about presentations and powerpoints you still had to get done by the end of the day. Already you were at the edge of your rope, “What are you talking about, Jess, I don’t think that John…”

Jess had already bounced ahead, quite limber for her old age, you had thought before you followed after; sucking in a deep sigh. Turning a corner with the clack of your work shoes, you saw a flash of color in the otherwise dull gray of the lobby, kissing the sides of your vision.

“Woah,” Your eyes widened, taking in the sight in front of you as a hand lifted to your lips in shock.

The arrangement was massive – bigger than any you had seen except for one other place.

The first official date you and John had gone on was at a fancy restaurant downtown with similar gargantuan bouquets – a really nice place with candles and red tablecloths.

Throughout the course of the night, both of you had gotten to know each other exceptionally well, but it wasn’t like the two of you were unfamiliar in the first place. If anyone would have asked, many of your coworkers would have told about how, months ago, you had first started gushing about the most handsome man you had ever seen leaving the local library once more. Through many fake threats and warnings that if you didn’t snag the brown-haired Brit soon, they would steal him from you, you shoved down the nervousness in your throat and went to the library on your days off.

It was a week before you gained the courage to even look in his direction, and when you did, you had already found him sneaking glances back. You had offered a friendly smile, albeit a nervous one, and had flushed when he had given you a twitch of his lips and a tilt of his head back.

For six weeks you had gone back, borrowing books you had no intention of reading just to have a chance to speak to him – and when you did, you had both become infatuated with each other. John had asked you about any history book recommendations and you had laughed and said you only read fiction; the man had looked offended, but slyly commented that he would have to change your opinion over dinner.

It was easy to admit that you had agreed right away, body fuzzy and warm.

But on that first official date, you had told him something that you never imagined would come up again when the waiter had put the first-course dish in front of you. Blue Hydrangeas and pure white Orchids. Your favorite flowers.

“John sent these?” You had wondered aloud at the first vase of flora on the granite desk-top, blue and white immediately catching your eyes. Your chest had lightened with love. This was so kind of him.

“Look,” Jess had squealed, placing her withered hands on her cheeks. It was almost like she was getting the gift instead of you. Your lips had quirked in amusement, “There’s a note too. Quick, read it to me! I want all the juicy details.”

That was when you realized something was wrong.

Note? You had raised a brow, John left a note?

Your boyfriend was many things – loyal, brave, an absolutely lovely person to hug because of those muscled bear arms, and hard-headed when it came to you walking nowhere near the edge of the road – but a note writer? No.

If John wanted to tell you something he would tell you – whisper it into your skin as he leaves gentle kisses behind, mutter it into your hair as he brings you into a slow dance in his house’s living room. Smugly grunt it into the hot air as he leaves you sobbing from pleasure, his fingers curling inside of your heat.

Your nose had twitched at the smell of the flowers, but your digits had gravitated to the black note card and its red writing.

‘Thinking of you now,

Long to be with you always,

Morning, noon, and night.’

The paper crinkled as you held the edge slightly tighter, but other than that no outward expression told anyone how confused you were. This wasn’t like John at all and your feet fidget a bit as you try and think if you had missed a massive date on the calendar to elicit such a break in character. But no, you tilted your head, there was nothing going on today.

How did John even order these? You had raised your free hand and brushed one of the white Orchid pedals, He’s out on deployment, not down the street standing in the floral shop.

Jess was gushing at your side, and a few other coworkers come by and say how happy they are for you.

Maybe I’m just overthinking this – John can send flowers and notes whenever he wants. He’s my boyfriend.

Looking over to your coworkers you agree to a comment about how attentive John is, “Yeah,” You force a laugh and shove down the swirling in your gut, “He’s really great – you have no idea…Did you know he makes the best waffles I’ve ever had? He even brings them to me in bed when he’s home!”

Then the whistling delivery man, named Don as you had found out the second week deep into this strange event, had become just as familiar as your coworkers.

Which leaves us in the present.

Tuesday, Two O’clock, two minutes into your scheduled break. The Triple Twos.

You’re already waiting by the front desk, leaning back into it with the granite top digging into your back like a heavy hand. You try to stop the way your stomach twists when you hear Don whistling – Jess laughs to your left.

“Like clockwork, Dear.”

You don’t answer, only tighten your lips into a line; tap your foot on the floor. Your arms crossed.

If you had the option to contact John this would have been easier – ask if he was responsible and finally put this to rest. But your Lover had told you right before the relationship was made official that his job was demanding and that it could even put you in situations that would be less than enjoyable. John had long hours, few breaks with stretches far in between where he would be able to see you. No contact when he was away overseas unless you were in a life-or-death situation – too many possible variables of who could be listening over the line if you called.

“It’d make me feel better if I know there’s no chance of anyone coming back to London to mess with my girl, eh?” He had said, pressing a scratchy kiss to your forehead as he was about to leave your apartment to gather his gear at his home. John would be away for months this time, you knew, “Put my mind at ease about it. But don’t you worry, Love. I’ll be back soon, yeah? We’ll watch that movie you wanted to see when I’m home.”

Don opens the door, holding another damned vase with blue Hydrangeas and white Orchids sticking out of the top. Your eyes find the note all too quickly and your fingers tighten over your biceps.

“Hell,” The delivery man snorts at you, “I’m starting to think this guy is going to buy up all the Florists’ stock at this rate! The hell did he do? Cheat on you?”

You roll your eyes, not replying to the comment and never doubting John’s loyalty to you in the slightest. Muttering a soulless ‘thanks’ before moving to help Don, you take the object from him with a grimace. The vase is like iron in your hand – heavy and cold to the touch akin to a corpse. Like death gripping at the slim vines of life, petals blooming through its fingers.

“I still wish you’d tell me the name of the person who ordered them,” You utter, moving to drop the vase with a plunk on the front desk. It was like you were repulsed by even touching them.

Jess narrows her eyes, “What?” She comments, tone exasperated that you were bringing this up again, “Do you think someone else is going through all this effort? Come on, Dear, no one but John would send these. They’re your favorites!”

“See you next week!” Don calls behind his back, already sneaking out the door to continue his work.

“I don’t know, Jess,” You run your hands over your face, pushing back the hair over your forehead with a groan, “Something just seems off about it. This isn’t like John – if it was I wouldn’t be making a big deal over it, I mean, why would I? I like flowers as much as the next person, but really? This is a bit much.”

“So what I’m hearing in the man never gets you gifts?”

“No!” You snag the black paper note with your fingers, huffing, “The flowers aren’t the problem – It’s the damn note that throws me for a loop.”

“The note?”

“It’s a fucking Haiku – since when have I ever mentioned John writing poetry?” Your voice turns into a gruff imitation of what it once was, “The man is romantic, sure, but he definitely doesn’t take his time to write out poems. He writes so many reports he barely picks the pen back up after he throws it down.”

Jess hums.

“Oh, maybe he’s just trying out a new pass time – perhaps he’ll come back to London as the next William Blake, hm?” The older woman waves her hands around, creating grand gestures as you watch with a blank face and a raised brow.

“Now that’s funny.”

John had hobbies – reading and cooking being two of them. The only time he wrote was when he was working on reports from an Op. and locked away in his office to make sure you never saw what he was getting red, tired, eyes over.

“There are some things that I never want you to see,” He had told you when you had asked what he was working on once. You had come to his house to visit, and he promised to go out with you when he was finished with a report to Laswell, “Images that have no right living in that beautiful brain of yours.”

“Why should you have to see them, then?” You muttered, gazing into his eyes with concern. He put so much on himself, “Don’t they make you sick?”

“Yeah, lie of the century, that is,” He had smiled stiffly, dragging you into his arms as you melt. Your hands wrap around his tapered waist, sighing, “But it’s the mission. Someone has to get their hands dirty. And I’d rather it always be me than anyone else – least of all you, Love. I’ll be ready to go in half an hour, copy?”

“Well,” Jess sighs, typing something on her computer, “Is the note the same as the last four times?”

You blink, and look down at the tiny paper you had been strangling in your grip. Black and red – just as always. Freezing you look at the letters and numbers written in that fountain-pen script. It takes you a moment of realization before it feels like a knife hits you in the heart, breaking open your ribcage and splaying the bones into the light.

Your lungs chill over, air stagnant and unmoving so that your breaths are reduced to gasps. The pulse inside of you increases so suddenly that your feet stumble and your skin vibrates as your veins work overtime.

The red script burns the exact address of your apartment building into your retina.

“Call the police.”

—

“Hello, this is Kate Laswell,” The voice over your phone wafts into the lifeless air of John’s home, and your skin crawls as it bounces off the walls. It felt wrong to you – taking refuge in John’s place without telling him first. But going back to your apartment wasn’t an option, “...Hello?”

With a start, you realized you had forgotten to reply. Placing a finger on the drawn curtains to the front window, you peak outside with tense shoulders, eyes roving the empty street.

“H-hi, Kate, I know this is probably stepping over a line, a big one, but I found your office number in John’s house,” You give your name tersely and clear your throat before stating you were the man’s girlfriend. Laswell stays silent, letting you explain yourself even if she was overwhelmingly confused. You appreciated that immensely. If she were to start asking you questions you might start crying, “but I would be really appreciative if you could tell him – if John’s even working with you on this deployment, that is, that I have to stay in his home for a few days… o-or a week…possibly.”

It didn’t take an expert to know that you were shaken, your voice cutting out at the wrong times as the phone picks up the static of your constant movement and fidgeting. Your eyes follow a white car as it drives down the street outside, pupils small and eyebrows drawn in. You drop the fabric and take a step back, sucking in a deep breath.

Focus.

A pause over the line makes your heart beat faster as you begin to go and pace the front hallway. There’s a paranoia in your blood that oozes out into the lines of the hardwood and around your socked feet as you zip back and forth.

Kate utters your name over the phone slowly. She doesn't ask why you’re in John’s house or why you're staying there, just gets to the root of the problem, “...Are you alright? Do you want me to mention anything else to-”

“No!” You gasp out, waving your free hand in front of you, “No, I don’t want to make him distracted. I just…” Your voice trails off, air getting harder to suck into your lungs.

A gentle sigh flows out over the call, and the sound of a body shuffling closer to the landline. Feet sliding over the floor.

“What’s going on, Dear?”

You stop pacing.

Laswell was a good deal older than you, you knew, and the tone she was taking reminded you of a mother who was trying to console a child; particularly one who had just hit their head after falling to the ground. Smooth, calm, and with a kind insistence. It made your chest tighten as you swallowed down saliva in your closed throat. Your eyes sting.

“I-” You rub a hand up to your cheeks, feeling the heat enter your clammy palms as a glassiness coats the back of your eyelids. Before you knew it, everything comes spilling out in a spew of hiccupped breaths and tears, “Something’s been happening at work for a while and the police are involved,” You try to steady your voice, “But…but they can’t do much because there’s no imminent threat to my safety. Yeah, well, the problem is that this fucking freak knows my address and I didn’t know where else to go.”

Your story jumps around, telling of the flowers and the notes. You take no linear path and instead you have to go back steps and explain that you didn’t even know who was doing this. By the time you had finished, you were sitting on the floor, knees drawn to your chest and sniffling. Your clothes were ruffled from you constantly flattening them down, wrinkles like veins visible in the fabric.

Kate coughs over the line as you come to a sobbing stop, trying to muffle your panic with a hand to your mouth as you tilt the phone down parallel to your chin. Tears drip from your face one by one.

“I’m sure John won’t mind you staying in his house,” Laswell speaks slowly, trying to ease your nerves and stop the panicked breathing over the call, “I’ll call my contacts in your local police force, alright? We’ll get someone on this; just take a breath for me, okay?”

“Please, don’t tell John,” You gasp, wiping away the waterworks with your hand, “It’ll make him worry too much.”

“I think it’s a little too late for that.”

—

John had gotten a text from Laswell just as he had finished taking off his gear, the small bleep from his phone distracting him from the straps of his leg holsters. He blinks, furrowing his dark brows and looking at the black device as it sits on the bench. The changing room lights fizzle for a moment, and the bear of a man spares them a grunt.

The Captain’s athletic shirt is neatly folded under the phone, the fabric creased and drowned with sweat and dirt. He walks over with only his cargo pants on, liking the way the chilled air felt on his flushed skin as the adrenaline from the latest step in the mission wore off.

AC, he decided, was one of man's greatest inventions. His dog tags clink over each other around his neck as a trail of sweat dripped down his abs.

John’s fingers snatch the phone, one hand going to unbuckle his belt so he can take a shower and wash all the grime from his body. The lights bounce off his physique, biceps becoming more prominent as he brings the phone up, but before he looks at the screen the back of his hand travels to his forehead. He takes a moment to wipe at his slick skin before sighing and itching at his hairline. Bringing the phone down, John looks at the screen absentmindedly, preoccupied with the thoughts of warm water to ease his aches and the forming bruises over his skin.

Laswell: “Get to my office. ASAP. It’s about your girl.”

John stops, his pants only held up by his tense hips; his free hand at the front zipper about to send the slider down the tiny metal teeth. He utters your name with a grunt of breath, eyebrows furrowing as a concerned frown overtakes his face.

It takes half a moment for him to shuck his pants back up and grab his nasty shirt from the bench. John shoves his feet into his mud-slick boots without a second thought; he doesn't tie the laces, instead, he shoves them into the sides. Sending a reply with one hand, he’s rushing out the door in under fifteen seconds, heart taking off like a plane and pulse being re-set alight. His jaw clenches and his tags bounce as he thunders onwards.

Price: “On my way.”

His feet hammer the floor, sending small shockwaves over the ground as the man rampages on. John sprints past room after room and runs down multiple hallways before finally getting to where he needs to be with stiff limbs. He grasps the side of the open doorway with a heavy hand and all but swings himself into the next hallway before he skids to a stop at the first door on the right. An all-encompassing grip is slammed onto the metal handle, and he mercilessly twists before opening it with his other hand on the woodgrain; his shoulder ready to ram the barrier open if it happened to be locked.

It wouldn’t have been, but John’s mind isn’t thinking straight. In his head, all he can do is come up with the worst possibilities. You, dead back in London, or severely injured due to a freak accident, maybe on life support with no hope of waking back up. There were too many options – John had simply seen too much, he knows that if the worst could happen, it will. But fuck nothing was ever meant to happen to you. Not you. Anyone but you.

You were supposed to be safe – always.

The Captain doesn’t bother to knock before the door is swung to the side. Your voice is the first thing that John hears, high-pitched and strained as you sob into the landline on Kate’s desk. Papers had once scattered the woman’s workspace, but all are pushed to the side as Laswell’s hands are clenched on the metal top; full attention on the hysterical lady a world away.

Kate snaps her hardened eyes up to John watching as his chest heaves before bringing a finger to her lips. Her expression twists into a frown.

Clenching his jaw, John feels his heart sputter at the sounds from the landline – what were you saying? His ears strain as he pushes the door closed with a muffled click, feet unconsciously carrying him to your voice like you were in the room with him. He wishes you were. John stops by the edge of the desk, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides before he crosses them over his chest; fingers digging into the meat of his arms.

His feet shuffle and he picks up the sniffled words of ‘don’t know him’ and ‘figured out where I live.’

Laswell sends him a glance as John’s eyes widen, beginning to paint a picture for himself of what was going on. A heated rage flies through his bloodstream, lips pulling back in a snarl, but he stayed silent so he could let you speak.

Has her address? Where is she now?!

“I’m sure John won’t mind you staying at his house,” Kate mutters calmly, slowly, and John is thankful that the woman was who you had decided to call – even if he felt bad that you didn’t think you could get in contact with him directly for something like this.

I told her not to, He lays his hands on the table, leaning closer to the landline, and takes a deep calming breath to help his head from exploding, Bloody hell, I made her feel like she shouldn’t.

John’s face steadily gains a red sheen of self-hatred under his beard and over his cheeks. He would have made time for you – found a secure line and waited for you to call. So why hadn’t he done that yet? He should have checked in.

The man brings a hand to his face, running it over his beard and pulling at the strands. There was just so much going on with the Task Force that it must have slipped his mind. Laswell continues from her seat at the desk chair, not oblivious to John’s state.

“I’ll call my contacts in your local police force, alright? We’ll get someone on this; just take a breath for me, okay?” John hears your static-filled voice let out a muffled whimper and he suppresses a flinch, breath getting caught in his throat. He never wants you to make a fearful noise like that again.

“Please, don’t tell John,” You gasp out and the two in the office pause – John becomes as still as a statue, his face pained and eyes widening – they hear you wiping away tears with a ruffle of fabric, “It’ll make him worry too much.”

Against his better judgment, the man lets a small, emotionless, quirk of his lips grace the tense atmosphere.

She’s the one being stalked and she’s concerned about me worrying about her? Damn this woman. If only she knew how much I actually think about her when I’m away, regardless. I couldn’t not think about her well-being if I tried – halfway around the world and I can’t get it together.

“I think it’s a little too late for that,” Laswell speaks after a moment. John hears you suck in a quick breath and he takes a deep intake of air in turn, filling his chest and trying to ignore the scent of his own stench. God, he really needed a shower, but warm water was nowhere in the vicinity of what he was thinking about right now. Not anymore.

You took precedent. Always.

“...John?” Your voice wavers out, thin and cautious.

“I’m right here, Doll,” The Captain utters, speaking softly as Laswell grabs her personal phone from the top drawer of the desk and slinks away – going to make that call to her contact no doubt. She sends him a close-lipped smile, nods to the exit, and walks out of the room. John tilts his head in her direction as the door closes, “I heard the last half, alright? Don’t you worry about a thing, it’ll all be sorted. Stay at my place long as you need and don’t worry ‘bout making a mess,” He nods his head even if you can’t see him, body wanting to hold you to his chest, “Even have your favorite snacks in the pantry for you, Love. Stocked up a few months ago just in case you ended up staying over…lucky guess on my part, yeah?”

“The chocolate ones?” You snort wetly, and John smiles in contentment at the noise of your slowing breath. Hearing you calm down was making his own pulse return to normal. You were okay – for now at least – and that was enough to make the tension in the man’s shoulders subside; the clenching of his fists on the table loosen. But there was a special section of his heart that held the knowledge that someone had made you fearful for your life – left you crying and desperate to have protection from the unknown. And here John was, not able to even press a kiss to your head. He can’t help the sliver of self-resentment at the thought, “But I…I thought you hated those?”

“Hm,” John grunts, conceding just for you. He tries to push his anger aside and force out his teasing comment, just focus on her, “The bloody things grew on me. How can I hate something you love so much? Especially when you’re making fun of me for not liken’ ‘em.”

A content silence falls, with your body shuffling occasionally as your try and find your bearings again. The man knows your mind will come back to you if you just focus on him; just like his own would. John’s lips fall into a line.

“Darling,” He whispers, but knows you can hear him by how you make a small noise in the back of your throat, “I need to ask you, how long has this been going on?”

John's ears pick up a sigh, “A little more than a month,” The Captain’s eyes close, head slightly turning down into his chest as his fingers drum the desktop, “I just…I thought it was you at first - even if It felt a little off, you understand? Then the most recent note had my apartment address on it and I-I panicked. I didn’t know where else to go except to your house. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize for that,” John firmly states, eyes flaring as he moves to sit in Laswell’s chair. A slight creak echoed out as he puts his weight on it, leaning forward intently, “Never apologize – this is some pathetic Muppet’s fault and will never, for one moment, be yours…Now, you stay at my home and lay low for a while. Did they give you time off from work? If not, I’ll send a call to your boss and–”

“You can’t just do that!” Your voice is coated with amusement, light laughter playing off your lips as you interrupt his methodical and soldier-like rant. John stifles a deep chuckle, closing his eyes and listening, “I already took a week off, I promise. I was just planning on staying here and letting things cool down...Just wanted to let you know first.”

John’s lips release a hum before he runs a hand over his beard and scratches the skin under the bristles. Dirt and flecks of ash fall to the floor, but he doesn’t notice.

“I’ll see if I can’t finish up here within the next few weeks. Come back to London early and help you figure all of this out. Look into it myself if I have to.”

“You don’t have to do that, John. I know your work is important.”

“You’re important, Love,” The man teases, “The Op. over here has run dry, the leads have gone for the moment and there’s no reason for Laswell to keep us here cleaning the empty rooms; I know for a fact I’m able to make sure you’re safe far better than anyone else back home. I can be back soon,” He growls, and his accent becomes thicker as he continues on in the ‘Captain Voice’ you had grown to love, “I’ll bloody make sure of it.”

“How have things been, by the way?” You ask, steering the conversation away from you, worried about how his efforts had affected him. He sounded tired, “Everyone’s alright? No new injuries, I hope. I don’t know if I can deal with you coming back and having another gunshot wound right now – you know how I get when I’m doting over you.”

“Hm,” John huffs, amused. He remembers how, when he had come back once with a shot to the thigh, you had practically restrained him to the bed as you ran around like a chicken with its head cut off. You had cooked, cleaned, and even helped him into the bath as his humongous body had towered over you. But it wasn’t like he was complaining about the last one, “Nothing to twist your hair over.”

“Promise?”

“I promise. Only scrapes and bruises on my part. Should’ve seen the other guy.”

Laswell enters the room silently as you giggle, heels not making a sound as she lowers her personal phone from her ear and closes the door behind her, “My contact is en route to your house, John. He’s going to check in and get a statement. With any luck, she’ll get a security detail to bring her to and from wherever she needs to go.”

“You hear that, Love?” John shifts his narrowed eyes to the landline after nodding.

“Yup,” You muttered, spirits now higher and the waver in your voice noticeably gone. There was no doubt that over the line you were calmer than you had been in probably over a month. John just had that effect on you, “I really can’t thank you enough, Laswell. And I’m so sorry for invading your privacy by calling you like that.”

“There’s no need to apologize. Anyone important to John is just as important to everyone over here. We take care of our own…The man that’s going to be coming to your door is named Mahdi Karim – black hair, tanned skin, and a cut just above his right eyebrow. Should be in a police uniform.”

“I’ll be on the lookout. Thank you, Kate. Truly. If you ever find yourself in London, I make a great casserole – just ask John. My door’ll be open.”

Laswell smiles softly, wrinkles disappearing for a brief second, and John can’t stop the wave of love that sweeps his gaze. He stops a lovesick sigh just before it enters the air.

“Be safe,” Kate tells you, “I’m sure John will be in touch with you soon and I’ll be sure to have a secure line ready to go.” Laswell nods before turning to John, “You were needed in building five for a debrief fifteen minutes ago. Gaz has been asking around for you…sorry, but you’ll have to make the goodbye quick.”

John looks away, jerking his head into a firm nod and groaning out, “Affirm. Tell the Sergeant that I’ll be there in a minute for me, yeah?”

“On it.”

“I’m sure Gaz is ripping the place apart for you, Love,” You laugh, and John’s eyes snap to the landline to give his attention back to you. Like a wave in an ocean, “Don’t keep him waiting. From what you tell me the boy can get into a startling degree of trouble when you’re not with him…something about falling out of a helicopter?”

John feels his chest jerk with chuckles. What did he do to deserve you? Someone who could make him forget about the aches in his shoulder muscles from the stock of his M13 – forget about the layers of sweat, blood, and dirt seeping into his pores; death lives on him like a second skin. But, strangely, you either didn’t notice or didn’t care. That was the part that struck John every time you barreled into his chest when he came home – you stayed by his side so adamantly; waited every time he left and was over the moon when he returned.

You love him, and he doesn’t think he deserves it. But like the selfish man he is, he’ll keep you at his side as long as he’s able, and love you back just the same. You were one in a million. And the thought of someone reducing you to something other than a god-send – to a mere object someone could prey on was enough to reduce the Captain to a feral rage.

If I ever get my hands on the prick that made her feel like this, he’s as good as dead. Mark my fucken’ words – he’s dead.

“I’ll call you tonight, Love, you alright with that?” John clears his throat, grunting as he stands from the desk chair, “Around 0900 your time?”

“That’s nine O’clock, yeah?” You continue not waiting for him to answer, “...How late is that for you?”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m still ‘gonna call.”

You seemed to know that trying to sway him on this was pointless by the way you muffled an exasperated laugh, “Alright. Nine O’clock. I’ll answer.”

“You better,” John huffs, “Goodbye, Love. Talk to you soon.”

“Bye, John. Be safe – Love you.”

“Love you, too. Be safe for me.” He whispers, letting you hang up the phone instead of him. Kate and he stand in silence for a moment before John growls, eyes suddenly burning. It was like his only tie to being civil was severed after your presence – even as limited as it was through a call – disappeared, “I want whoever’s doing this put in cuffs before I’m back in London, Laswell, yeah? Otherwise, it’ll be someone else's bloody problem to pick up the pieces I leave behind of whatever bastard is responsible for this.”

—

Mahdi Karim was perhaps the only person in London that listened to you. He had told you in a soft tone as the both of you sat in John’s dark living room that he would work on the case you had brought forward personally – with the influence of Kate Laswell giving him all the jurisdiction he needed.

You had briefly wondered how far Laswell’s hand reached into the inner working of the city’s police force but had decided it was probably better if you never figured that out. For just one American CIA agent – she sure knew how to play the game to her favor.

“I’ll make sure to have another officer with you when you need to leave the house – Mrs. Talley – whenever you need to go somewhere she’ll be just a call away.” Mr. Karim had told you as you fiddled with your fingers in your lap, “And I’ll be at the station working on leads. Kate told me that you had handwritten notes?”

“Yeah,” You cleared your throat, nodding as you stare out the window; the street lights come on outside with an automatic timer. Your lips flattened, whispering out, “They’re all in my work bag.”

God, you wished John was here. He would have held you to his chest with a firm hand on the back of your head; all-encompassing and steady as his heart beat directly over your ear with a steady thum-thump, thum-thump. John’s heart was always something of a comfort to you. When he was with you, staying the night, you wanted to keep your head on his chest and feel the melody of his pulse lull you into a slumber – like your own personal lullaby.

It reminded you he was here; alive, and in turn, it kept you steady. His gentle kisses to your hairline were just another perk along with his fingers carding through your locks. Whenever he did that you swore you turned to mush, just like a cat letting out vibrating purrs. There were so many things that John Price did that could calm you down without even trying – the way he slow danced with you when you put his vinyl records on, his fascination with old movies to the point his eyes would light up when he explained them to you, and the press of his gargantuan body laying on top of you.

That last thought brought a smile to your lips. He was always worried he would crush you.

“You sure, Love?” He would ask when you smiled smugly from your position lying on the couch, “I’d hate to have my girl suffocate because she asked me to lay on top of her. You trying to get me arrested?”

“John,” You had laughed, “I’ll tell you if I can’t breathe. I just want to feel you. It’s like a weighted blanket – just more you shaped! Come on,” You whine playfully, arms outstretched and making grabby hands, “Please?”

The man huffed, smirking before shaking his head and sending you a warm glance. He stalks over to come and lay on top of you, his thin shirt letting you memorize the press of his abs and pecks sliding over your body; the dig of his biceps over the small of your back as they circle behind you. John lay in between your legs, forcing them open and around his fitted thighs before your limbs slip down his legs. Your hand had gravitated to his soft brown locks, messing them up lovingly with a chuckle and a soft smile. The Captain’s head was tilted up, beard itching your neck as his grip over your waist lightly squeezed over your shirt. You stared down at him with that look on your face – the one you reserved only for John.

Against better judgment, you feel a heat enter your body at the heavy press of his pelvis slotted perfectly into you. And the way he was staring up at you, his large nose just by your chin…

A cheeky smile filters over your boyfriend’s bearded face as you caress his forehead with your thumb. John’s eyes crinkle.

“This what you had in mind, Doll?”

“Oh, don’t tell me you don’t enjoy this, Captain.” His eyes had sparked, narrowing as he paused a moment.

A deep chuckle rattled against your body, and John tried to press you tighter into him; leaving you softly yelping in surprise, eyes widening, even though the glee stayed. The action was incredibly soft and left a deep yearning in your compressed lungs. As you sucked in small breaths, you found John’s dilated eyes watching you closely; like a deep blue river around a circular black rock. The gaze left a heat flowing to your face and neck – a pulsing in your lower body. You resisted the urge to roll your hips as your legs tighten around his own.

“Hm,” The man grunted, making your breath stutter for a moment. He felt it and smirked.

“Hm, what?” You ask breathlessly, John’s nose moving up your neck and tilting your head back.

You open the skin to him readily; your skull falling back to the arm of the couch. Gasping, John’s lips pull apart, teeth grazing your pulse point before finding the one spot that makes you whimper. He lays open mouth kisses and swift nips, leaving the area red and pulsing causing your eyelids to flutter shut with pleasure. The heavy set of your boyfriend’s build makes the sparks that he leaves behind with his mouth increase tenfold. The man’s fingers dig into your waist, kneading the flesh.

You let out a breathless whimper as your hand trailed through his hair, pulling at the roots and leaving John grunting as they get messed up. Suddenly, with a sharp and confident bite to that perfect spot behind your ear, his hips lightly jump up into you; pelvis bones digging into the skin of your inner thighs as the fabric of your shorts hitch up.

A breathly keen escapes your lips before you can bite onto your lips to stop it. Burning, your face moves closer to John’s as he licks the hickey he made and blows on it. You shiver as his lips pull in a smirk against your skin.

“This your plan all along, Pet? Get me to give you a good fuck?” John clicks his tongue, “Naughty girl. You know what you do to me – just had to bloody ask if you wanted me stretching you open.”

His accent always became more pronounced when you both were horny; rutting against each other like animals. John sends another thrust up into you and your eyes roll back, eyelids snapping shut at the steadily growing feeling of wetness staining your panties. Fuck, you needed him – now.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you. If you like me pressing into you so much, maybe I’ll take that cunt of yours right here, yeah? You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Fucken’ hell I think I enjoy this just as much as you do.”

“Please…” You sigh, gasping as John grabs your hips and starts to force you to move in tandem with him; fingers digging into your bare flesh. Fuck that felt good – all his weight on you as your breath was forced to puff out when his chest bore down on you with every orchestrated pump of his pelvis.

“Please, what? Use your words now…Hm,” He angles deeper, and your nails dig into his back, sliding under his shirt and attacking his skin, “Such a needy little thing, aren’t you? You’re trying so hard to get me in that cunt of yours, might have to hurry this up.”

“Please, C-captain.” Your face burns, words coming out muffled as his lips smash to yours and forces his tongue down your throat.

“...There’s a good fucken’ girl.” One of his large hands moves to your abdomen, just about big enough to span the entire area of your skin before traveling down slowly to enter your shorts. His callouses burn so perfectly.

Shaking your head, you realize Mr. Karim was waiting for you to give him the notes. Startling, you stand and send him an apologetic glance before rushing to the kitchen and grabbing your bag off the counter, rifling through it with a quick hand.

Pulling out all of the black paper notes, you turn back to Karim and shuffle up to him, “Here.”

Holding out the notes and trying not to look at them, the man takes them from you with a gentle pull. Mahdi gave you a pitying look.

“I’ll get these dusted for prints and try and see if we have any records of the handwriting in our database.”

“Okay,” You mutter, nodding, “Do…you need me to come with?”

Mahdi shakes his head, hair moving around his head, “No. You’re free to stay here and get your bearings.” The man stands, his officer uniform’s badge glinting in the light from outside, “How about you order out? Get some food and take a nap, yeah? Leave the rest to me, Ma’am.”

He makes his way over to the front door and you trail behind, flicking on the outside house light for him but leaving the interiors pointedly off.

“Stay safe. Lock the door after me, okay?”

“Yeah,” You lock your fingers together in front of your stomach, “No problem. Drive carefully, Mr. Karim, and thank you for coming by.”

“Anytime you need something done and no one’s listening – come directly to me. Sleep tight.” With that, the officer opens the door and disappears, going to his car in the driveway. Closing the door immediately after his departure, you watch his vehicle take off into the dark night with a tight chest.

Clicking the double locks and turning off the outside light, you suck in a deep breath before turning around and falling back to place your spine on the woodgrain. You slide to the floor, eyes turning glassy.

Mahdi said to order out – not strain yourself. But you had no appetite, even if you hadn’t eaten lunch today. Your stomach was in twists, intestines clogged with bad thoughts and concern. Closing your eyes, you waited for John’s call tonight at nine, tension living like a weight over your shoulders and neck.

You would have much preferred your boyfriend’s mass holding you down instead of this, but no matter how much you wished you knew he wasn’t coming back to you for a while. But you’re patient. You can wait.

—

You still hadn’t gone back to work even after Jess had told you the flowers had stopped – about two and a half weeks later. The older woman had said over the phone that Don had come by the building to explain that no more requests for delivery were coming in, either. That had made you breathe a sigh of relief.

Maybe this is coming to an end, You had thought while pulling John’s green comforter closer to your chin, fixing the position of the phone over your ear as Jess comments on the handsome officer that had come in and asked about you.

You blinked, cocking a brow.

“I told him you were staying at your boyfriend's house – had to give him the street too – though I don’t know why he had to ask me, Dear. He seemed quite pushy too. Such a dreadful boy. It’s a good thing you found that John of yours, I–”

Your ears started ringing halfway through the word vomit, eyes stuck onto the ceiling as the whites show like snow in the corners of your orbs. The quivering of your lip was the only part of you that moved – frozen over with frost and piloting stiff limbs. The comforter was suddenly suffocating you.

“Jess,” You calmly spit out, breath hitching as you interrupt. The woman pauses over the line, and she asks if you were alright. Ignoring her, your fingers turn numb, “Did he show you a badge?”

“Why, yes, of course, he did – it was a silver…oh…oh my…”

Silence falls, a tense rope being tightened over your throat as you sit up slowly, pushing the covers off of you with a shaking hand.

“Police badges are gold.” Dropping the phone from your vibrating fingers onto the bed, you rush to the dresser, pulling on John’s gray sweatpants over your underwear and grabbing a stray t-shirt to sit on top of your thin tank top. Nearly tripping over your feet, you huff out uneven breaths as you hang up on a blabbering Jess, quickly finding Mahdi Karim’s contact information and slamming a finger onto the green call icon.

It takes three rings before the man picks up, and hot adrenaline is lighting your nerves; telling you to run and hide. John’s scent – gunpowder, pine needles, and smoke – is ingrained in the clothes you wear and yet you can’t bring any comfort from it. Your bones weigh more than lead, one hand going to cover your mouth to stifle a ragged inhalation as Karim’s confused voice comes through the receiver. You jump into an explanation with a waving hand, and the man says he’ll be over himself in just fifteen minutes while another officer goes to your work to get a statement from Jess.

He hangs up first.

Fifteen minutes, You think about calling John but don’t want to phone him on his flight. He had said he should be back today or tomorrow the last time you both had spoken – when he was boarding the C-17, the whirling of the large plane’s engines blocking out everything else besides his voice. Carrying yourself into the living room, you reach up and close all the curtains; double-check the door locks, and clutch your phone in your hand with white knuckles near your hip, I don’t even know how long this guy has had his head start on me. What if he’s already outside the door?

Licking your lips, your mind runs with scenarios – what if this deranged person broke down the door? Ripped the window off its frame and jumped in? Your eyes snapped to and fro as your feet shuffled back over the hardwood; trying to figure out if you should go wait for Mahdi somewhere not near the front of the house or stay to make sure no one suspicious was walking outside.

You chose a middle ground, moving into the kitchen and pacing with your bare feet as the morning light streamed in from under the fabric barrier over the window. Fifteen minutes passed far too slowly.

A knock sounded on the door, and you rushed to the entrance to sneak a look out the sidelight. Mahdi stood shuffling in his uniform, peering behind him and speaking into a radio on his vest with tight features. You open the door with a shaking grip and usher the man inside with fearful glances behind him.

Mahdi takes a few steps inside, keeping the door open behind him and frantically grabbing you by the arm. His eyes are wild.

You yelp.

“We have to get you to a secure area – quickly.”

“B-but I–” You send a glance behind you, not entirely willing to leave John’s house and the familiar solace it brings. You only utter half a sentence, not even able to explain your hesitance, before a sound like a great boom echoes into the morning air. Some type of liquid splatters the side of your face, dripping down your forehead before falling off your chin and your eyes snap shut instinctually.

Only able to flinch with a slight yell, you turn back just in time to lock onto Mr. Karim’s face. Or lack thereof.

Half of the man’s visage was gone – white skull visible to the naked eye as the eviscerated tendons of his jaw leave the orientation off; hanging off his face and only on the unmarred side. Mahdi’s brain matter was splattered over your face, and your eyes widen in horror at the realization that you can see what remains of the officer’s cerebrum in the now half-circle of his skull. His remaining eye was bulging like an egg – nearly popping out and bouncing on the floor.

All of this happened in only half a second – the gunshot, you getting bathed in perhaps more blood than you initially realized, and then the limp body of kind Mahdi Karim falling into you; dead. His weight hits your numb body, your eyes wide, and your mind a thousand miles away as your arms snap to steady him. Your phone falls to the floor, with a deep thump, and at this point, you don’t register the fact that the man’s dead in your arms until it’s too late.

His head hits your shoulder, and your ears twitch at the sound of a wet splat – something mushy hits the floor before you stumble a few steps backward. Baptized in blood. It coats you like a second skin. How could a human body hold so much blood?

“...Mahdi?” You whimper, ears ringing and body shaking so badly you feel the man slide off you. The corpse slams to the floor, vibrating the hardwood.

Your hands are held outstretched, fingers clenching and unclenching in shock. You don’t notice the shadow running up to you before the man has you by the wrist. The phantom utters your name into the air just as you notice the neighbor across the street rush to her front window.

“I’ve got you. Don’t worry – I’ve got you.”

Reality comes to you in the thin moments between the realization that Karim’s body was bleeding all over John’s foyer and the knowledge that you were being dragged outside. For everything that was going on, you can’t help that your first coherent thought is ‘John’s going to have to replace the hardwood. That’s so expensive…I’ll have to pitch in.’

When your heels get skinned on the hard concrete is the exact moment you felt a shred of sanity come back and weave its way into your brain.

“What the fuck?!” Screaming, your arm jerks back, eyes borderline feral as the adrenaline finally prompted you to consciousness. Looking up as the stranger's grip only tightens to a painful degree you stifle an enraged wail.

The man was familiar to you – not in a ‘this is my friend I've known for years’ type of way but more of a ‘this is a man I’ve seen in passing’ you think to yourself.

It was the waiter.

The fucking waiter from the restaurant you and John had gone to for your first official date. He had heard you talking about your favorite flowers while he poured you wine…

But that was upwards of a year and a half ago. Your skin crawled, feeling violated in such a way you had never experienced before.

As you feel your heart bursting through your chest, you bring your opposite hand up and clench it; trying to land a sucker punch to the bastard's smug face as he stares at you with dark eyes. Your fist grazes his cheek, bearly causing a reaction.

His other hand holds a revolver, glinting in the light.

Before your shock-filled brain can attempt to understand what's exactly going on, the Waiter’s gun raises as your nails scratch at his face, peeling back skin and leaving red lines behind. As the butt of the weapon slams into your temple, the last words you hear are uttered right next to your ear – foreign lips whispering the sentences and making you want to throw up. Maybe you do, but you can’t be sure at that moment.

“I’ll take care of you, Orchid. Better than John Price ever could. Steady now. I’ve got you.”

Hands drag you by the arms, and you hear the opening of a rusty car door before you’re thrown into the back seat. Images swirl in your vision, and blood makes your skin taunt with gore.

Your last thoughts are of John’s blue eyes.

—

The first sensation you feel is the tight bindings over your wrists and ankles. They weren't rough – and you instantly knew the restrictions didn’t have the fibers belonging to hard rope. Keeping your eyes closed as the pulse in your head pounds to a degree that leaves your hands shaking, you strain your ears. The wooden chair keeping you up leaves your neck limp; chin compressed into your collarbone.

To your left, your ears twitch at a noise. Classical music wafts like wind off walls you choose not to open your eyes and see. But based on the echos the room is small – not large enough to allow the tune to carry far. Your feet shuffle, and in the process your knee slams into a hard object that leaves you clenching your jaw to stop a yelp of pain.

The jolt causes a reverb of wood sliding over the floor. Lightly peaking an eye open your blurry vision lands on the tall table in front of you – the stain is patchy, with paint flecks living on the legs as you look down. A morbid curiosity flows through you, and your horrified gaze jumps from one object to another; your chest palpitating.

Everything in this room was worn down, old, and ancient. A radio sits to your left on a nightstand with one duck-taped leg; the momentary static that overtakes the eerily playing tune shows that the device was having trouble receiving the channel.

Where am I? You ask yourself, looking at the table with a set of dust-layered plates and utensils. Two wine glasses glint in a single overhead light attached to a roof that comes to a sloping stop. This looked like a dingy attic room – the type where the Christmas decorations were shoved away to rot for a whole year and where young children were terrified to enter. Sniffing as your hands experimentally clench, you catch the scent of rotting wood and water damage.

“...What the…?” Your lips grunt out, shaking your head to dispel the fog as you notice the blue silk bindings keeping you tied to a white-painted wooden chair. No one else was in here except for you, “What is this?”

Jerking your arms, your mind runs over the obscure facts that John would drop – either calling attention to the true crime shows you would watch in your free time or simply because of his extensive service career.

Most people who are abducted are killed within a short amount of time from when they’re taken…three out of five women who are in this situation are sexually assaulted, abused, or exploited, You pull more heavily at your binds, feeling one on your left leg loosen as you let out a wavering sigh of achievement, Only 0.1% of people are abducted by strangers.

“Fucking hell,” You whimper as a pulse from your blood-stained temple leaves you light-headed, “Add me into that percentage, I guess.” Your thoughts border on hysterical, sweat coating your hands as a humorless chuckle shakes from your throat. You have to bite your lip to shut yourself up from divulging into loud barks of laughter.

The silk digging into your skin holds, and you don’t dare make any more noise than you already are. Looking around frantically, your flickering eyes land on the twin forks on the table; tantalizingly out of reach and mocking you.

“Oh, screw you,” Growling, you throw your head back and try and look behind you, straining your neck to a point you start restricting your airways – maybe there was something of use?

Nothing. Just a window covered in newspaper and the faint glow of a setting sun. You hadn’t even thought of the time. How long had you been unconscious? The blood staining you from head to toe was all dried and made your clothes hard and stiff; the wound at your temple had stopped bleeding. You licked your lips and couldn’t stop the sting in your eyes.

Hours had passed. Precious hours.

John has to be back in London by now, You reason, hoping against hope, He knows I’m gone and’ll be on it in no time. I have to hold out until then.

Gasping at your lack of air, you turn your head back around and cough into your shoulder raggedly; sucking down breaths. Black dots fly over your vision in squiggly patterns.

In that moment of trying to get your lungs to understand you weren't dying, a sound had started up from below your feet in this decrepit house. At first, you hadn’t noticed it – the thumps so muffled your mind had mistaken them for your own skipping heartbeat, but then there was muttering.

Someone was speaking to themselves downstairs. Your body froze; becoming so still that not even your hair moved with the shallow puffs from your nostrils. It was like your nerves had turned to stone, and your ears strained to hear.

“...hope she likes it…worked so hard to make it perfect…” Footsteps bounce off the wood as your eyes stay locked onto the door directly across the room. It wasn’t long before the handle started to jiggle.

Keeping a scream locked in your throat, John’s voice comes to you from between the racing of your mind.

He had been telling you about how he was captured by Russian Special Forces on one of his Black Ops. – totally alone and unable to contact his team.

“But I had to play their game,” John had muttered into your hairline; laying gentle kisses as you caressed a long scar up his abdomen and right peck. He grumbled his appreciation, shivering as your nails raked through his chest hair, “Make them think I was giving them what they wanted until I could loosen the rope.”

“That sounds stressful,” You had murmured, pressing your lips to his raised skin and feeling his mustache nuzzle your forehead with a delicate scrape, “How did you manage it, Love?”

“Well, I had years of practice under my belt.” John’s eyebrow rose with a smirk, “But they also knew what to expect from me right off the bloody bat – I just had to surprise ‘em; to keep them on their high horse. A little white lie is better than a punch to the gut, eh?”

The door opens, and a plan already starts to form before it closes with the click of a lock.

“Orchid!” You flinch, your body throwing itself back into the chair as your head snaps to face the entrance. The Waiter’s head of blonde hair was greasy with a product – slicked back and trimmed. Red marks are traveling down his face from your nails.

He was handsome, tall in a lanky sort of way, and in a suit; holding a handful of blue Hydrangeas and white Orchids. Even looking at the flowers causes your stomach to roll; bile to fill the base of your throat and burn to be expelled.

You decided at that instant that you never wanted to see any type of flower again for the rest of your life.

“You look stunning, My Love!” The man exclaims, rushing into the small space; placing the flowers down on the table delicately, and grabbing you by the cheeks.

You let a small sob, trying to move farther back but his fingers only dig deeper and threaten to break skin. Something flashes over his dark gaze, irritating perhaps, or pleasure from seeing you finally in front of him? You don’t like either option.

Play the game; buy time.

But could you play it correctly with all the raging blood pumping through your veins? Hot sweat slithering down your spine like a snake? Would John find you before something horrible happened?

“What’s the matter?” The Waiter asks you, caressing your cheek with one of his thumbs, “I’m sure I didn’t hit you so hard you forgot me? Right?”

“O-of course not.” You choke out, voice hoarse. If your chest was any tighter it would implode on itself.

The Waiters eyes brighten.

“But,” The light overhead sways, and a slight pattering over the window hints at a coming rainstorm, “I think I must have forgotten your name – my head hurts really bad.” Stifling a yell, the man’s head rears back in surprise.

“I’m so sorry,” He gasps, removing his hands and shuffling back a few steps. You move your wrists experimentally, but the silk was still tight over you, “I was just so concerned you might start screaming,” The bastard dares to laugh, a sultry bark of a sound – nothing like John’s deep grumble, “I’m Colby, there, now you must remember me.”

Colby was speaking so normally it made you even more afraid of him, but you still made a smile flicker over your quivering lips.

“That’s right,” You say, “Colby. I remember.”

He smiles with all teeth, but his eyes hold nothing inside of them; his dress shoes click over the floor as he shuffles to the opposite end of the table to the empty chair. Colby moves the plates and utensils. One is placed carefully in front of you and after a moment the position is fixed by his slender fingers like he had envisioned this moment millions of times over.

“I’m making dinner downstairs – Honey Roasted Duck. One of your favorites. You told,” Colby grumbles, venom leaking into his tone. His digits tighten before they slam a fork down on your plate. Your legs jerk, knee once more slamming into the table leg and making you hiss in pain. Colby doesn’t notice, thankfully, “John Price when we met for the first time, but I always listened better than him. He’s never made you Honey Roasted Duck before.”

“Yeah, I know.” You try and reason, body shaking violently; your leg starts to struggle as you attempt to loosen the already slack silk of your left leg, “But, uhm, how am I going to eat my favorite food if my hands are tied?”

“I’m going to feed you myself. Don’t worry, my Love.” Colby looks up and shakes his head, locks flying. He sets the glasses down and takes a step back, looking at the scene with roving eyes.

“Oh,” You swallow the saliva in your throat, “But I don’t want to be a burden. I just want to–”

“No!” Colby suddenly yells, eyes flashing and making you release a yelp in fear, “I’m going to help you – what don’t you understand about that?!”

“Okay!” You appease, waving your hands up as far as their able. A panicked look crosses your face and your eyebrows draw in, “Okay, but c-could you at least loosen them a small bit, please – I promise you I want to stay with you but my arms are losing circulation. It’s hurting me, Colby.”

Colby’s expression is hesitant, lips taking a downturn as the storm outside starts to pick up, the wind hitting the house and shaking the walls. Rain slaps the window like tiny bullets.

You try not to think about Mahdi Karim – about his body laying in John’s foyer. But he had been so nice to you. Your head starts running, running over possibilities about the officer's life. What if he had a family? A spouse? Kids?

Fuck, Your throat tightens, and your nose scrunches right after. Tears burn the side of your vision and a slight sniffle enters the stale air. Everything becomes blurry in a vile vale of waterworks. The agony at your temple increases as you tilt your head up to the ceiling, don’t cry.

“No, no, no, Orchid,” Colby pleads, “Don’t cry! I’m sorry it hurts but It’s for your own safety.” He rushes over grabbing onto your shoulders, digging his fingers into the meat of our skin over John’s bloodied shirt.

“Get the fuck off of me!” You scream, your voice echoing off the walls as you begin to struggle. You weren’t John. You couldn’t play this game, “You goddamn freak! You killed Mahdi! I’m-I’m covered in his blood!”

A clammy hand snaps over your neck, restricting your airways.

Your eyes bulge; body stiffening as your mouth gasps open like a fish. The grip is hard – firm – and you already mark the way your legs try and break out of the silk from under you in desperation. Your mid-section dances around, arms bounce, and hands splay.

Colby only stops when you feel your own saliva drip down the side of your mouth, and the struggle has left your body until dark dots nearly swallow you whole.

His hands fall, and your head does as well. Wheezing and feeling the burning in your throat, above the ringing in your ears, you make out the man’s sobbing snarl.

“Why would you make me do that?! God, can’t you see I’m trying to make things work?! God this is all that John’s fault. He’s the one that got in the way!” He stomps out of the door, slamming it so loud that everything on the table either falls to its side or hits the floor. The click of a lock is heard a second later as you try and will away the burning in your lungs as lightning cracks outside.

Gasping and feeling your tears slap your sweatpants like a river, you whimper under your breath but find that speaking only makes your neck hurt ten times worse, “John.”

You stay in that room for two days. No food. No water. Colby had all but disappeared except for his muttering from downstairs and his shuffling; the occasional shadow would stand in the hallway just behind your door. In all that time the storm hadn’t let up and from what you could tell there was a leak in the attic ceiling because the constant drip of water was sounding off from behind you.

Drip-drop, drip-drop, drip-drop.

You don’t know when the idea first pops into your head – maybe it’s when Colby finally peaks inside on that second day near suppertime – but since seeing the broken pieces of the plate on the floor a grim silence had settled in your bones.

Colby doesn’t linger and with a promise of coming to check in on you later and ‘make up’ the deep swelling bruises along your neck pulse. It felt like your entire throat was held under a knife that was slowly being rocked back and forth like a seesaw, peeling back the blackened skin until your tendons and nerves were open to the air.

Swallowing a thick glob of saliva and mucus down your dry throat, your foot catches on one of the longer plate fragments which ends with a razor-sharp tip. You know the sharp edge bites into your flesh, piercing it as your toes angle it just right but silk was an easy fabric to rip if you got the right angle, and pain had now become secondary.

Survival was all that mattered – not how, just that you made it out of this with your head screwed on.

What would John think about all of this? You numbly wondered, hunger and thirst working their way through you as your foot tilts up, heel hitting the floor. With a tooth biting into your lip, you drag the fragment back and begin pinching it into the flesh of the front of your upper ankle – right where the top edge of the silk skins you. Struggling the last two days had given you nothing but weeping wrists and ankles; blisters that leak puss and stain the blue fabric a nasty yellow.

Sucking in a quick breath that leaves more tears gathering in your eye sockets, your lashes flutter over your cheeks just as you hear a small tear. You jerk your leg up, and the silk completely falls from you, ripped with the sound of a zipper playing like a melody in your ear.

The plate piece clinks to the floor nearly soundlessly and the storm covers for you as a bewildered smile cracks your lips open.

I did it!

You look down, and with your free limb, you go to pull the knot on your other ankle, eventually just getting to a point where you pull so hard one of your toenails completely rips off. Not even noticing, your continue until the floor is pooling with your blood, nails having completely torn into the flesh of your restrained leg until, once more, the silk tears with a blue glint.

Yes!

Pushing yourself up, you stop yourself from passing out by focusing on the broken wine glass on the table, stumbling forward, and nearly falling right into the table in the process. A moment later your fingers are all cut to hell, having grasped the glass and moving the pieces in your hand until one the right size cuts your palm open. Panting like a dog and whimpering, you tilt your mangled hand and use the piece to cut away half of your remaining restraints.

Just like that, You tell yourself, just like that.

The chair clatters to the floor just as you free your last hand.

Remaining frozen, stilled into shock, the house goes silent in an instant. No shuffling. No muttering. Stale air and a storm that rages outside.

You take a breath…then two.

Maybe he didn’t hear–!

Running footsteps are coming up the stairs. They slam into the wood, and an enraged shout spurs your leaking body into action. There was only one way out of the house from this level – one exit that Colby wouldn’t take even if you were stupid enough to. But what choice did you have? By the time the door was blasted off its hinges by a rampaging man with a revolver, your body was disappearing from the attic window – the one once covered by newspapers that you had spied the first time you woke up. The storm pounded, and for a moment you imagined you were a raindrop, falling from the clouds to hit the earth and shatter into a million invisible pieces.

In essence that’s exactly what you did. You fell. You hit. You broke.

But adrenaline is a powerful drug.

As Colby stands awe-stricken in what remains of the window, not even able to aim his revolver. Your body jolts up from a three-story drop into a dead bush and peels out over the abandoned neighborhood; old houses falling apart and more broken down than the last.

You pant and sob, knowing that many of your ribs were broken even if you had never experienced the sensation before, and push on with failing legs. Glass sticks from our skin like porcupine quills, leaving stains of gore behind you as our blood footprints are washed away by the rain.

It’s completely dark out – not a single street light on or able to illuminate your flooded concrete path.

Slamming into the side of a house, you scream, knowing your arm shouldn't be hanging like that by your side but not there enough to care. Rain pelts your head, cleansing you of the blood and puss and everything else.

Taking a confusing path through the alleyways and open backyards, your feet dig into the mushy grass until you zip around a corner. Running so fast and banking so suddenly you don’t have time to stop yourself before you’re slamming into a wall. The solid mass causes your body to reel back, a wet, strangled, gasp ripping from you. Your clothes only add to the weight of your limbs as you fall a weak outcry meeting the air.

But before your body can slam into the ground a weight snaps to your wrist and a frantic voice meets the air. Not a wall, then.

“Holy fucken’ shit!” The masculine voice coated in surprise meets your ringing ears above the downpour, British in accent, “Ma’am?!”

The world is blurry, but with your flickering eyes you can make out a dark face, a ball cap with the British flag embroidered on the front, and wide brown eyes set into a visage with light stubble. He wears gear that you had become familiar with – John wore something similar; a beige vest with packs and straps down his arms and legs. An M13 hangs over his chest, his other hand holding it steady by the side.

“Ma’am?! Are you alright?” The world snaps back into focus, a great snarl of wind ripping down the alleyway and ruffling your frame, “Can you tell me your name?”

Wait, You blinked sluggishly, Didn’t John show me a picture of his teammates? Why does this guy look familiar?

Your boyfriend had a single picture of him and all of his Task Force buddies put in his living room above the fireplace – when you had asked about who he worked with he had grabbed it and told you. It put you at ease to know that in the field he was surrounded by the impressive caliber that the sill image had shown. John had been all too happy to tell funny stories about incidents in the field; careful to leave all the bits that he didn’t want you to hear, out.

“Kyle Garrick?” The words sound like nails on a chalkboard; eyes narrow on both sides, yours in fatigue and his in confusion. You shiver and shake before weakly trying to pull your hand away from him. His grip remains firm, but not enough to hurt. The soldier moves his gaze down your body, eyelids lifting.

“Fuck.” After the exclamation, Kyle brings you into him, just as you feel your legs tremble and buckle. Collapsing into his chest and feeling your body press uncomfortably into his pouches as you let out a bleat in genuine agony that most would only hear in a movie.

The man utters your name breathlessly into that air and you resist a sob that bubbles in your chest.

“Bloody hell, Sweetheart, you’re coming with me. I’ll get you out of here, just keep your eyes open a little longer.” Kyle’s arms travel down wrapping around the backs of your knees and lifting. You yell, eyes scrunching, as waves of heat travel down your spine, “I’ve got you.”

The sentiment was nice, and the man that John calls ‘Gaz’ is incredibly kind, but you don’t want his arms around you – you want your boyfriend’s.

Where’s John?

Gaz huffs as he stares down at you, cataloging the bruises and cuts – the dislocated arm that hangs uselessly out of his hold. Your head is pressed into his neck, the Sergeant’s reliable body suddenly taking off at a quick pace through the alleyway, boots rushing over puddles and garbage with surety.

Off farther down the street, enraged screaming echoes out and you force yourself deeper into Gaz’s grip. The man curses under his breath, taking a turn out into the road and booking it with his long legs. Over the pounding of his heart in your ear Kyle’s fingers dig into your clothes, keeping you tight against him. After a minute of jerkily bouncing in his hold, Gaz’s feet stomp up a set of old wooden stairs, causing your body to flinch up and down. He utters a soft apology and shoulders his way into an abandoned house.

The decaying door smacks the far wall as the man drags rainwater all the way into the front hallway.

“Ghost! We have a problem - A big one – where have the other two gone?”

A voice wavers in from upstairs as Gaz sets you on your feet, guiding you by your shoulders to lean against the wall as he takes frantic glances outside. He shuts the door quickly; letting darkness once more descend in the sheltered area.

“What you mean ‘we have a problem?’” Gaz brings a flashlight from his front pouch, coming up to you and grabbing you lightly by the chin.

“Careful, Love,” He mutters, clicking the light on, “I just need to shine this in your eyes, yeah? Won’t take more than a second.”

You swallow and send a small twitch of your lips in approval but even that hurts. Your eyes squint when the man finally angles the flashlight right in front of his face, moving it back and forth from one of your orbs to another. It makes your eyes water, but you can’t tell if that’s from the heavy realization of what’s happened to you or if the light only agitates the sensitive makeup of your optics.

“Sergeant?” That same voice flows from upstairs, and footsteps suddenly thunder from above. The sound makes you flinch back, snapping your head away from the light and locking to the staircase at the far end of the hallway. Gaz clears his throat ahead of you.

“It’s just Ghost – a-a friend. He’s here to help you.” Your lips thin but you nod carefully.

A hulk of a man comes down to the ground floor, clothed in the same attire as Gaz beside a half-skull mask that covers his face. Under the covering, a black sheet sits over his head. You can only see Ghost’s eyes – blue and numb. Much colder than John’s…like ice rather than a Blue Bird’s underbelly.

He stops for a moment and the two of you lock eyes. Shuffling, you look away first, gaze flickering to the side as Gaz stands to his full height.

“Bloody hell,” Ghost monotones, “That her, then?”

“Get the Captain and Soap on the radio, I need to stop the bleeding,” Gaz barks, grabbing you around your shoulders and practically dragging your body into the adjacent room – the living room, “Tell them I got her and that we need Medical Evac!” He sets you down on the couch and kneels on the floor; digging through his equipment and sending quick glances from under his cap at your rapidly deteriorating state.

You never registered Kyle’s sentence – already the veil at the edges of your vision is taking over. Your pain had begun to dim. In your mind, you knew that was bad but couldn’t, at that moment, care. The glass still sticks out of you, your bones still broken and arm dislocated; feet bleeding and neck more black and blue than any other color, but the euphoric feeling in your brain was enough to block it all out. Mahdi Karim’s life, at that moment, had never ended and you don’t wear the evidence in streaks down your face or on John’s clothes.

“Hey,” Gaz lightly taps your forehead with a finger, making your eyes refocus for a moment before they blur again, “Hey, now,” He attempts to smile, forcing out a chuckle, “Come on, keep those eyes at me. I know I don’t look like John but I don’t think I’m that bad to stare at.”

A pressure is settled on your ribs, and with a sharp inhalation, you pull back as bile fills your mouth.

“Easy,” Kyle whispers, pushing the rag he holds deeper into a long cut over your side that weeps crimson. You blink down at it – you had never even noticed. Had you gotten that in the fall?

“Tell me about how you met John.” Your eyebrows furrow, body beginning to slump forward as your hands shake violently in your lap; the clothes over your skin sticking to you uncomfortably.

“Library,” You slur, voice gravely. Oh, that hurt.

“A library?” Gaz presses his hand tighter, smirking up at you, “Well, can’t say I’m too surprised. I’ve seen the man go through five books in a single Op. over in Egypt. Never understood that, to be honest. I can’t focus on one for more than an hour.”

Weak amusement filters over your expression.

“Garrick,” Ghost’s voice sharply enters the room, his presence making itself known as it lightly jogs into the room, “Mark’s near the kitchen window; coming around clockwise.”

“Shit,” Gaz hisses, about to stand up before Ghost stops him.

“I’ve got the curtains, keep pressure and make sure she doesn’t pass out.”

“Affirm.”

Ghost rushes across the room, grabbing the moth-eaten fabric that was swinging uselessly over the living room and snapping it shut. His hands hold his Grau 5.56 Assault Rifle firmly as he angles his body on the wall next to the window.

Watching his eyes flicker, his gaze once more finds yours. Blinking, both of your orbs stay locked for a minute or two until he looks away, going back to guarding the window. His feet move, legs angling themselves onto a ready stance.

Clenching your eyes shut, your lips pull down – pins and needles making your skin itch.

A shadow moves from outside, leaving a melting outline that slithers past like a serpent.

“Where the fuck are they,” Gaz snarls under his breath. Adrenaline was making the man’s hands vibrate over your side, and your eyes were becoming heavier. The hypnotizing sound of the rain puts you into a trance.

Your body slips forward.

“No!” The man ahead of you harshly whispers – grabbing the limp form of your frame and rearranging you until you were on your side, body lying on the couch. His hands quickly return to your still-bleeding wound, setting his shoulders so he can bear more weight down on you.

Your lips release a small exhale of air that wheezes from you and the squelching of a blood-soaked rag makes your eyelids flutter and skin wrinkle.

“Gaz get the woman’s bloody eyes open.”

“I’m trying! Come on, Love…please–!”

Gunshots ring out from outside, yells growing out over the thunder and lighting – a static sound enters the living room. At this point, the only part of you working property was your ears; in the thin bits of reality you could make out voices that leave your ears twitching in familiarity.

“--outside! We’re coming in…Cover us!”

“Copy!” Ghost yells, rushing away from the window to thunder his way to the front door.

The echo of running feet from outside suddenly became closer and the sharp ring of “MacTavish – Go!”

That voice was so familiar, but why couldn’t you place it?

Multiple feet storm inside, thumping over the floorboards, one continuing down the hallway as Ghost and the other stay to shut the door and stand watch.

“Where the hell is she!?”

“Here!” Gaz calls and a groan exits you at the loud voice so close to your sensitive ears. A heavy body can be felt moving rather than heard as it rampages closer. A shadow moves behind your eyelids just as a strong bout of wind makes the house’s windows rattle. There’s a pause, and then a slow breath inhaled.

A deep voice, layered with grit and dipped in urgency.

“How bad is it, Sergeant?” Your body tenses and with a flickering eyelid, you force your consciousness to come back to you. Opening your eyes halfway, the blurriness only peels back enough for you to notice a looming figure broader and more built than Gaz – a wet bucket hat sitting on top of a beard-covered face. Concerned blue eyes bore into you as the man knees down.

“John?” Your voice wavers, a strangled tormented type of imitation of normal speech. Gaz’s hand leaves your side and your boyfriend replaces it. Your entire abdomen had lost feeling. Was this a dream?

“Garrick, where’s the fucking Evac?” John hisses, wild eyes falling from one open wound to another. His body orients itself next to you, free hand coming to grip your cold cheek. You breathe out a sigh of relief, familiar scared fingers and calloused palms wiping away rain, blood, and tears.

John was in the state he always was when he was on missions and a teammate was struck down – he had to be. If he thought about you too hard, or the blood that stains his grip, he would put you in even more danger; lose his edge. He would panic.

“Ghost contacted them, Sir. They’re ten minutes out – police are fifteen.”

“We need to move.” The conversation continues, but you space out every once and a while, at least until the hand on your cheek shakes your head.

“Love, I’m going to move you,” Your eyes refuse to stay open as John calls your name getting increasingly louder, “...Shit...!”

Gaz’s voice warbles from across the room, “The Mark’s still out there – you sure we should make a move? We don’t have eyes on him, Captain.”

“What else do you bloody suggest I do, then, Sergeant? Let my girl bleed out? Not on my fucken’ life. We’re making for the Humvee. Guns hot…I’m going to need you on my six.”

Arms go to wrap around you, dragging you to a warm chest that you go to limply and without protest.

“Stay with me,” John’s breath hits your cheeks and you feel his breath stutter, his panic growing as your body grows colder in his grip, “please, stay with me.”

But the Captain was an experienced man – praying for a future event was worthless to him. He had to act for it.

So the man tightens his hold, hiking you farther into his sheltering grip with a brief and shaky kiss on your forehead that leaves your nose wrinkling.

“Muppets,” John barks, looking up and stalking out of the living room, “we’re making a run for it. Gear up.”

Your boyfriend doesn’t know if he’s carrying your dead body in his arms, but as Ghost opens the front door and rushes out with his weapon at the ready, John doesn’t stop to think. Soap takes up a stance near his side, sending concerned glances at your non-responsive form, and Gaz settles on taking the rear.

The street is silent besides the rain, and the entire Task Force rushes out with snapping eyes and tight chests. It was a dead silence – one where the air is quivering with tension.

John looks once more down at your face, pulling to memory the panic he had felt when he found Mahdi Karim’s body in his foyer. He had entered his house, gun drawn, when he had noticed the front door was open; a specific type of agony he had never felt before constricting his throat.

Of course, he had relationships before you, but never had he felt this strongly before – never felt this level of anger and hatred for someone who had caused harm.

You were so vastly important to him that it made him sick to think of you dead before him.

Grunting, John increases his pace over the ground, now sprinting in complete distress.

“I promised you we would watch that movie, Love,” He whispers, rainwater weighing down his hat, “Go for a walk down in Green Park so you could see the baby birds.” A wet laugh bursts from his chest and he plays off the tears in his eyes as he clenches his jaw. John doesn’t care about the rain, or your blood staining his vest, not even the water in his boots. All that matters is getting you back to the Humvee; getting you immediate medical attention and making sure that the son of a bitch that did this is–

A shot rings into the night and John lets out a strangled shout. Burning pain erupts from his right shoulder. He falls, but conscious of the precious cargo in his arms, the man twists his body to shield you as he connects with the ground; water flies around as he lands in a puddle. John’s breath is momentarily expelled from his lungs.

“Contact! Contact!” Gaz screams.

“Steaming bloody Jesus!” Soap yells out, moving into a circle of John and your’s bodies, “Captain’s been hit!”

“I’ve got him! Johnny, Gaz, flush ‘em out!”

John groans, cursing under his breath and drawing your body closer to him.

Keep her safe, He thinks as he blinks away black dots, get her back home.

“Come on,” Ghost’s shielded visage appears above him, gripping him by the uninjured shoulder and forcing him up. More shots ring out over the night, but far off in the distance sirens start to breach the night, “Now, you want to explain to your bird when she’s awake why you’ll be off on leave for a bloody month, or am I going to have to do it?”

John clenches his jaw to stop the waves of pain. Ghost offers to take you from him, but he snarls, forcing himself to his feet as his blood splashes over his clothes.

“Fuck off, Lieutenant.”

—

The beeping was becoming too annoying to ignore, like a fly buzzing around your head. With a groan, your eyelids flutter and it takes a few minutes for you to open them fully. Squinting, the dim white lights meet you and a small breeze from an open window makes goosebumps ripple up your arms.

You first notice the fuzziness around your body – strong pain meds making you loopy and floating. Twitching your fingers, the mattress under you shifts as you do; you test the mobility of your limbs with gentle movements, a rotation of your ankles, which are all heavily bandaged, and a rolling of your shoulders. All actions spark a numb shiver of caution.

It would be unwise to move.

Lifting your now re-set arm and tilting your head down, the tight bandages around your neck make you pause.

John was there, Your eyes widen; body messing up the cover over your lower body. The beeping of medical machines suddenly increases as you strain yourself to sit up. Just as you do, a voice from across the room causes you to halt, veins freezing under your skin; your heart skips a beat before you recognize the voice a second later.

“I don’t know if that’s the best idea,” Gaz whispers, “I just got him to fall asleep, you know.” Blinking, your gaze goes to the window across the hospital room there the tall man leans near the glass. He smiles lightly, and bags take shape under his dark eyes, “I’m sure you know how stubborn he can be. Especially about you. I’ve never seen him so damn restless.”

Your brow furrows, not trusting your voice to speak your confusion. Gaz points, and you follow his gaze to an uncomfortable-looking chair mere inches from your bed.

It’s made of wood and a small blue cushion, a hard backing that you could see someone getting a stiff neck over. But you focus on the man sitting there instead of the dented frame – the slumped build in a hospital gown and an IV in the left hand that’s held down by two pieces of medical tape. John’s face and neck are slack, small eyes shut as his chest rumbles with soft snores that put your heart at ease like listening to a cat purr. His skin was illuminated by the gentle glow of a new morning, but under his eyes, there was the heavy burden of black and blue bags.

Had no one gotten any sleep beside me? How long have I been out?

“He wouldn’t let the nurses force him out,” Gaz mutters, but you don’t move your wet gaze from John, “Nearly punched the bloody Doctor, too – Laswell had to sort it out, or else he would have been discharged. Decking a Civvy isn’t a good look for a Captain, now is it?”

The man shakes his head, releasing a highly amused chuckle, and walks to your opposite bedside; grabbing a glass of water he taps your shoulder and causes you to turn forward. Unwilling to stop looking at the ethereal image of your sleeping boyfriend, you keep him in the sides of your vision as Gaz brings the glass to your lips. You’d be unable to hold it – the nearly inch-thick gauze over your hands and wrists was incredibly restrictive.

You gulp down the liquid thankfully and tap on Kyle’s wrist when you’ve had enough. He pulls back and your wipe the droplets from your chin before you delicately smile at the man as thanks.

Gaz nods, placing the glass back on the table.

“...The staff had to just about rip him off of you. They said you had to go into surgery for your ribs and he ‘bout lost his head. But he had lost so much blood himself that it was easy enough for Soap to drag him away.”

Lost blood? Your head snaps his way so hard you sway lightly.

“Woah, careful, Love,” Gaz holds out a hand and hovers it above your arm, but looks sheepish and spares a silent glance to John when your boyfriend grumbles in his sleep, “Yeah,” He scratches the back of his neck, “Cap. took a bullet to the right shoulder.”

You turn and look at John more carefully, landing on the afflicted side and spying the extra bulkiness under his garment.

What do you mean he took a bullet?!

John shifts and your eyes widen in horror when he flinches in pain. His chin had hit his shoulder, forcing his eyes to flutter open in retaliation.

“Sergeant,” He grumbles, the huskiness of his voice making your cheeks heat, “I told you not to let me fall asleep.”

“Sorry, Sir,” Gaz smirks, taking a step back and sending you a wink, “Must have spaced out.”

“Hm.” John shifts, moving and running a hand over his face and down his beard, scratching at the wire hairs and stifling a yawn. Your heart is in your throat as he blinks his eyes. Blue so momentarily being glimpsed in between flickers of dark eyelashes. You briefly hear the sound of receding feet and the door closing.

The sting of tears makes itself known to you.

“Gaz?” Your boyfriend questions, face squinting, and body shaking in a stretch, “Where did you–” He sees you sitting up and stops, eyes locking onto your own with shock.

Your head tilts and a slow smile creases your face, making tears dribble down your cheeks. John sucks in a quick breath, immediately trying to stand, but you hold out a hand – stopping him.

Just calm down, You want to tell him, Everything’s alright. You’re hurt too.

“Doll,” He breathes, hand coming to grasp the side of your face and keeping you there with a relieved smile. It looks like a weight had been lifted from his body, “There you are…How are you feeling? If there’s any pain just say and I’ll go grab the nurse – she’ll fix you right up, yeah?”

You want to tell him that you love him, but settle on kissing his palm instead, feeling the heat of his skin on your own and wanting nothing more than to disappear into his hold. You don’t want the nurse, you want a hug.

John’s eyes weave over your bandaged temple, and he runs a thumb over it as if his touch could make it better. If you had your voice you would say it did. Silence reigns for a few long moments.

“I thought he killed you, Sweetheart,” He whispers, vulnerable as his eyebrows turn in, and your hand comes up to run through his locks; dragging him closer until his face is slotted into your neck. Your heart breaks as John’s beard presses into the gauze, “I heard the glass from the attic window break, just about scared me half to death, that did,” John had never admitted to being scared before – not even when he was captured by the Russians. The realization has your heart skipping beats, nose going to press into the side of his head, and stifle a sob in his hair. Your vision was blurry, but not from the fatigue, “I saw so much blood but I searched and searched. I couldn’t find you. Then when Gaz had you in the living room, pressing that bloody towel to your side…You were so lifeless that I didn’t…I didn’t know if–”

“John,” You force out through gritted teeth, “Stop.”

He was shaking just as badly as you were. You were both quite the pair, it would seem. Your Captain pulls back and begins pressing kisses to any skin available to him – your forehead, cheeks, eyelids, and finally your lips. You revel in the feeling of his soft kiss, leaving you breathless as he pours himself completely into you.

You don’t know if you had ever met anyone as perfect as John Price before, and you would be content if you never did again.

He pulls back when you both feel your hearts slow and you look at him, eyes sliding over his face until they land on his right shoulder with a glint of guilt. But he notices. He always does.

“None of that, now,” John whispers, placing his forehead on yours and swiping your tears away. His tall frame blocks everything beside him and he smells of gunpowder, pine needles, and smoke, “You are so incredibly brave, you know that? You’re absolutely bloody brilliant, you are…but everything’s been taken care of – just leave the heavy lifting to the others for a little while. The only thing you need to do is rest for me, Love, can you do that?”

Your brow teasingly raises even as your heart bursts at the praise.

“Please.” You smile and point to his chest, poking right into the middle and huffing.

Only if you do too.

John grunts and a chuckle makes his body rattle in the way only his could, “Won’t find me fighting you on that.” He disconnects your foreheads.

You haven’t been sleeping, You brush the bags under his eyes, watching his eyelashes flutter, Oh, John…when will you stop being so stubborn? Your body was fighting with you to drag itself back to the mattress – lay down, it seems to say, go to sleep and rest.

John’s heavy presence is like a weighted blanket, and although you knew there was much to talk about – when you were able – he gave off waves of comforting heat that made your muscles loosen. You seemed to have the same effect on John because he lays all of his body against the bed frame breathing deeply.

“Wanted to be awake when you came too,” He whispers, and you smile, nuzzling into his neck, “Didn’t want you to be scared.”

I never could be, You think, not when you’re here.

Getting an idea, you pull back and shake John’s head from side to side with your hands to get him to watch you. The man grumbles, opening his eyes with mock annoyance.

“Yeah, Love?”

Your body moves, and John’s tired eyes widen, “What are you–!”

Scooting to the far side of the bed, you only release one grunt of uncomfortableness when you have to place weight on your reset arm. Around your middle, you feel the telltale pull of stitches and stop sooner rather than later. You pat the empty side and send John a look.

“Alright,” He groans, “Just stop moving around.”

John’s large body barely fits in the bed, leading you to mold into his side and him to wrap his arm around your shoulders. Wanting to show your disapproval as John clenches his jaw in pain as he moves his right side to give you more room, you slap his chest.

“What else do you want me to do, woman?” He looks down at you, raising a brow and laying his hand on your arm; running a thump up and down, “Let you fall off? This was your bloody idea.”

You roll your eyes at his grumble, moving your head to rest on his peck. Already your eyes were drooping once more, and John presses his lips into the top of your head. A sigh rises his chest.

“Sleep, Love.” He whispers, beard getting caught in your hair as a deep rumble enters his body, “You’ll never have to worry about that Muppet ever again. Made sure of it.”

Smiling, you fall asleep to the sound of his heart and the feeling of his large hands creating patterns along your arm; not long after he follows, small puffs of breath from his snores moving your locks as the morning light enters the room.

Gaz would return not fifteen minutes later with two trays of hospital food, Soap tailing after and talking to Ghost about what Laswell was going to do with Colby. The Manchester man only slides his eyes down to the Scot from over his lower-face covering and hums; scratching at his neck.

“Laswell? I’d be more cornered with what Price is going to do with the bloke. Bastard’s not going to be able to hide in his cell when the man gets discharged. Kate knows it too.”

Gaz peaked his head into the room and paused spying two softly embraced individuals holding each other as if they would disappear when their eyes would open. Light pays off your forms, and John grumbles in his sleep before shifting even closer to you and letting out a sigh. He had never looked so peaceful.

Gaz smirks before letting the door silently slip shut. He turns back to the pair with the trays raising as his shoulders shrug comedically.

“Sleeping.”

“What?” Soap raises a brow, crossing his arms over his chest, “Not ‘gonna wake ‘em up?”

“Do I look like I want to be eviscerated by a certain Captain, MacTavish? I’d quite like to keep my bloody neck, thank you.”

#john price #captain john price #john price x reader #John price x you #johnny soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #kate laswell #cod #cod x reader #cod mw22 #cod x you #MW #MW2 #Call Of Duty MW2 #mw2 2022 #captain price #mw2 x reader #mw2 fanfic

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angelsleepinggurl · 2 months ago

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“𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙠 𝙖 𝙡𝙤𝙩 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙢𝙮 𝙜𝙞𝙧𝙡𝙛𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙙.”

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. Your drunk boyfriend fails to realise that you’re the angel taking care of him.

wc. around 892

tags. aki hayakawa x reader. drunkaki x reader. aki hayakawa reader fluff. all characters are 18 years old.

˚₊‧꒰ა . ——— ˗ˏˋ ✮ ˎˊ˗ ——— ˖ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Stumbling through the door, the two of you barely manage through the doorway, with Aki leaning heavily on you, his weight threatening to pull you both to the floor. For a moment, it feels like you’re going to crash—your foot catches on the edge of the doormat—but you shift just in time, managing to stay upright with Aki slung against you like a ragdoll. His arm slips off your shoulder as he mumbles something incoherent, too far gone to make much sense of the world around him.

"Easy there," you mutter, more to yourself than to him. His head lolls to the side, his loose jet black hair lazily falling down his face’s sides. A content hum vibrates in his throat. He’s out of it, lost in whatever haze alcohol has wrapped him in. You crouch down, easing him against the wall, his back sliding down just slightly as you focus on pulling off his shoes. He watches you with half-lidded eyes, a slight grin on his face as if this whole thing is amusing him.

“You think this is funny yeah? Sicko.” you jokingly mutter under your breath, successfully getting his other shoes off. Makima, your boss, wanted to congratulate the team for their hard efforts. This led to suggestions for the group to out for drinks tonight, something on which you had cooled down, especially since last time’s events. But this time, the new recruit, Denji was here. Drinking and getting himself into all sorts of mischief. It all got a little too much for you when Himeno threw up in his mouth. It got a little too much for Aki when he started singing randomly and becoming really pouty and cuddly, signifying his end. So here you are, struggling to lift your boyfriend to a couch in the living room.

Aki drapes a heavy arm around you before slinking across the couch. He sprawls out like he is made of liquid. Moulding and melting to the structure of the furniture. You let out a soft sigh, standing for a moment to look at him. His hair’s a mess, his cheeks flushed pink, and he’s got this dazed look in his eyes that somehow manages to be endearing. Shaking your head, you head to the kitchen and fill a glass with water. When you return, he hasn’t moved, his arm now dangling off the side of the couch. You set the water on the table, then grab the remote and flip on the TV, settling down beside him.

The TV’s a blur of moving colors, but neither of you are really paying attention to it. Aki shifts beside you, turning his head lazily in your direction. His gaze lingers on you, as if he’s trying to place something, his brow furrowing in this adorably confused way. Your fingers sem to rub against his scalp repetitively, still holding the glass of water.

“You look a lot like my girlfriend,” he mumbles suddenly, his voice thick with sleep and alcohol.

You glance at him, trying to stifle a grin, and reply nonchalantly, “Really?”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, his eyes narrowing a bit as if studying you more closely. “It’s kinda freaky.”

You stifle a laugh, biting the inside of your cheek. "Do you like your girlfriend?" you ask, your voice casual, as if you’re making small talk, though there’s a slight teasing edge to it.

“I love her,” he says immediately, the words slipping from his lips with a kind of softness that makes your heart flutter. He says it like it's a fact, like it's obvious, something everyone should know. His eyes half-close again, the smallest smile tugging at his lips. “She’s so nice to me. And she’s got this… really pretty hair.” He lifts his hand clumsily, gesturing vaguely at your head. “And she has this amazing laugh. I wish she’d laugh forever.”

You can’t help it—you laugh, just a little, your breath catching in your throat at the sincerity in his voice. Aki’s eyes flicker open at the sound, and for a second, it’s like he’s awake again, aware, noticing you fully. But the moment passes as quickly as it came, and his head drops back down onto the couch cushions.

“I wish my girlfriend was here right now,” he mumbles, his voice wistful.

Something softens inside you at his words, a warmth spreading through your chest. His eyes flutter open again, bleary but warm, looking up at you as if he’s not sure what’s real.

"Silly," you whisper, smiling down at him, “I am your girlfriend.”

For a moment, there’s silence. Aki blinks up at you, his brow furrowing as if he’s processing the words. Then, slowly, a grin spreads across his face, lazy and soft, like the realization is just starting to sink in. He lets out a contented sigh, closing his eyes again as his head nestles deeper into your lap.

“I knew that,” he mutters, though there’s a playfulness in his voice that suggests otherwise.

You laugh softly, continuing to run your fingers through his hair. The room falls quiet, the sound of the TV a distant hum in the background. Aki’s breathing evens out, his body relaxing completely against you, his hand resting lightly on your leg as if even in his half-asleep state, he wants to be close to you.

“Love you too, idiot.”

#aki hayakawa x reader #drunkaki x reader #aki hayakawa x reader fluff.#aki chainsaw man #chainsaw man #hayakawa aki #aki hayakawa #chainsaw man fluff #chainsaw man x reader

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mikkomacko · 3 months ago

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i need a blurb of reader & the boys having a sleepover at her & nicos house. gossiping, snacking, watching tv i need the fluff!!!

i love love love how you write each character so much!!!

smooches x

It was like a scene out of a movie. The entire living room was turned into one large bed, air mattresses covering every inch of the carpeted floor.

Thick blankets, fluffy pillows, random stuffies you’d collected over the years strewn about in a way that looked messily placed. Soft fairy lights were strung up on the ceiling and around the mantel the tv hangs above.

The rest of the house was dark, save for the light that led to the dining room table where a feast of snacks welcomed everyone. You had everything; popcorn with Jacks favorite Parmesan cheese topping salt. Twizzlers and red vines because Luke and Mercer disagreed on which licorice was the best. Some kind of Italian soda and cannolis that Johnny loves, the ones with chocolate shavings on the ends. Mini Reese’s cups, the unwrapped ones, for Holtz because he likes them bite sized but he hates the foil wrapper.

And even though Nico would heavily frown, you’d ordered pizzas, Taco Bell, and McDonald’s for all the boys.

They all looked like kids on Christmas morning as they dropped their overnight bags by the door, kicking off their shoes and scrambling into the dining room. You did a head count, made sure all of them were accounted for before shutting the front door and turning the alarm system on.

“No freaking way!”

You followed after them, biting your lip to keep your excitement at bay as they all gathered around the table to find gifts at their respective chairs.

Fluffy slipper socks, red and black plaid pajama pants, and white t-shirts with red Devils horns. You’d even personalized them, adding in small fancy letters on the sleeve each of their nicknames amongst the group.

“We match!” Jack exclaims, having already stripped of his shirt and tugged on his pajamas. You proudly show off your own set that you’re already wearing, smile beaming as the boys all chatter over each other and scramble to get their pj’s on.

“Oh fuck yeah,” Mercer laughs, shirt half on as he grabs a bag of Twizzlers. He ducks by you, pressing a kiss in thanks to the side of your head before moving back to the living room.

One by one they all change and gather their snacks, following after Mercer into the living room. Johnny is the last to go, eyes moony and warm when he stacks a pile of cannolis on his plate.

“Cara,” he sighs, dramatically holding his hand over his heart. “Nico better hold onto you before I go out and buy a diamond ring.”

You and him both snicker, collecting your own snacks and following the others. They’ve all taken over the air mattresses, sprawled out with their food in their matching pajamas. That leaves the couch for you and Johnny, both snuggling under under the king sized comforter you’d taken from yours and Nico’s bed earlier.

“Alright what are we watching?”

Jack is flipping through Netflix, browsing the movies and you’re about to suggest a cartoon when your phone dings with a text from Nico.

Why is my doorbell cam showing hoards of boys at my house?

Giggling to yourself, you text back.

When the boss is away, the children will play

“Ooh boss likes that one!”

You look at the tv, see the square lighting up around Sex and the City the movie, and you realize Luke is talking about you, not Nico. Your cheeks warm.

“It’s a chick flick but it’s fun.” You comment, and that must be enough because a chorus of agreements rings out just as Nico texts back.

I only agreed to Alex coming over.

The boys all shush each other, Mercer climbing up to dim the lights before slipping back into the recliner.

I guess you’ll just have to come home and kick them out yourself….

Tonight is the one night a year that the original four Devs pull an all-nighter at the cafe. Something to do with plans and contracts for the upcoming year and instead of spreading it out weekly, they make themselves miserable for one whole night.

But you hate staying home alone so Nico agreed you could let Holtzy sleep over. But you couldn’t say no to Johnny either and then slowly but surely all the boys wanted to sleepover and what were you supposed to do? They want to hang out, watch out for you while Nico is gone for the night.

Before Nico can respond you double text, telling him the movie is starting and you’ll talk to him in a bit. Then you put it on silent and settle under the blankets, intently focused on the film.

You and the boys get through the first film and the first season of the show before you decide you need a break. Mostly because Luke and Jack are arguing over whether Big is actually hot or not, but you eventually swap the HDMI to the switch and pull up Mario Kart.

The game turns into a tournament, one you get knocked out of too quickly. So you slump onto the losers couch, Holtzy following you when he loses in the next round. And it’s not until he’s curling up into your side, thighs pressed together and your head resting on top of his that you realize how exhausted you are.

Slipping out your phone, you see it’s almost 3 am and that you’ve got a stack of unanswered texts from Nico.

What movie are you watching?

Ok I know it has to be over by now

Baby please I’m bored

Jonas makes really bad espresso shots and my tummy hurts

I want to be at the sleepover

They better not be in my bed btw

Fine, I’ll see you in the morning. Love you baby ♥️

Sleepily, you smile and text back.

Goodnight Nico, miss and love u

~~~~

Nico comes home in the early hours of the morning, sun barely rising in the sky. He’s exhausted and grumpy, just wants to curl up in his bed with you and sleep forever when he stops in his tracks.

All six of you are still in the living room, the Mario kart title screen on the large tv. Luke is half on a mattress, mouth open and hands clutching a controller to his chest. Johnny is next to him, his own controller laying on his stomach as he snores.

Jack and Mercer are both star-fished on the mattresses, Jack buried under almost all the blankets to the point that all Nico can see is his face.

He finds you next, lying on the large couch under the blankets from your bed. Alex is by your feet, his hand stretched out like at one point you had been holding it but now you’re just squeezing a pillow to your chest.

You look cute. Lips parted and hair messy, pajamas matching the boys and he can’t even be annoyed by the fact that you’ve deconstructed his bed and brought it down here. He just peels off his shoes and clothes until he’s in just his boxers, pushing his hair out of his face as he navigates the mattresses and limbs to get to you.

He pries the pillow from your hands, dropping it to the floor and slipping under the blankets next to you. It’s a tight fit, but even in your sleep you fit yourself into his chest.

Pressing a kiss to your head, Nico closes his eyes and settles into the cushions. He’s on the precipice of sleep when Alex’s hand finds his and Nico huffs, wrapping his fingers around the younger boys and squeezing just once.

He’ll have to remember to tell Alex never to mention this again. But that can wait until later.

#mob boss nico hischier #nico hischier #new jersey devils #fluff #him and i #him and i chats #him and I blurb #devils mafia au

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 months ago

Text

End Game 11

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, stalking, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your gaming buddy asks to meet up but it doesn’t go exactly as planned.

Characters: Andy Barber

Note: the best way to spend you Tuesdays is pissed at an old man.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Time passes too quickly. The clock counts down to your fate. Again. It feels like you’ve done this already.

You laugh even though it hurts. You try not to think of what comes next. You just stay in the moment and help Kara clean up the mess the cops made of her place. She’s in high spirits considering. A night in jail can put things in perspective. So can the prospect of life imprisonment.

You order sushi. You figure if Andy’s paying, you’ll splurge. She doesn’t ask how you can afford it and you won’t explain. Fuck it. It’s your last hurrah. A final little spark before your flame is tamped out.

When it’s time to say goodbye, you’re choked with tears. You fight not to show it as you hug Kara and tell her you’ll message when you’re settled in your new place. You want to cling to her forever. You sense a reluctance in her as well.

“You okay?” She looks you over as you pick up your purse.

“Yeah. Yeah. A lot of change. Tired.” You yawn. You really are exhausted. “I was so worried, Kar. Really. I'm so happy you’re out.”

“Oh, tell me about it! But hey, I’m kinda a bad ass now. I got street cred.” She flexes her arms and giggles.

You laugh too. You’re going to miss that. You will hold onto every lame joke and cherish it on those days when you can’t make yourself smile. You know with Andy, those will be far and few between.

You leave and linger outside the door. This could be the last time your here. You won’t think that it could be the last time you see Kara. Too many ifs, and just as many scary certainties.

You reply to Andy’s text. He’s waiting around the corner where he won’t be seen. It’s bad enough you’re lying to Kara, but her knowing the reality is worse. At least in this, he is your ally. You meet him there.

He smiles and kisses you as you buckle your seat belt. Your disgusted by him. You say nothing. If you speak, you might just tell the truth. You lean back and close your eyes. He shifts into gear and the engine whirs softly in the night.

“You okay?” He asks.

He asks you that as if it should be. You turn your face to the window.

“Tired,” your murmur.

He steers into a lot and you look up at the bright white facade of the hotel lit by spotlights. It’s the kind of hotel you could never afford. You never stayed in one before but you expect one of those roadside motels is more your pay grade.

It feels like another boast. Look what I’m giving you. Look what you wouldn’t have without me. Yeah, yeah. You owe him.

He gets out and you follow. That’s how you’ll get through. Let him lead the way. He’s so much older, so much wiser, so why not? Just go along with it all. He knows what he’s doing. Exactly what he’s doing. He entrapped you. He pretended to be his own son and tricked you.

Your angry thoughts boil over as you enter the hotel room ahead of him. He steps in close enough to brush against you. You pull away sharply and focus on untying your shoes. You drop them and stare at your hand.

“I need the bathroom.”

“Oh, it’s just down--”

He points and you’re already on the move. You rush into the bathroom and lock the door. You want to scream. No, stay calm. You can’t let him get to you like that.

You stop and lean on the counter. You look at yourself in the mirror and exhale slowly. Sleep. Don’t worry about anything else. You need rest. You can see it in your eyes. You can feel it through every part of you. You push off and go to the door. You emerge and stop short.

One bed. Your bag is beside it already. You can tell he’s been there all day. You sit on the edge with your back to him.

“TV has streaming. Tub has jets. Your pick.” He suggests. There’s a fragility in his throat that irks you. He’s acting like he’s afraid of you. Like you have any power in this situation.

“I’m going to lay down.” You lower yourself to your side and curl up.

“Shouldn’t you... you want something to change into?”

You don’t answer. You’re empty. You don’t have anything left. You just want to lay there and never move.

“Sweetie?”

“Tired.” You say.

“Right, well...” The TV flicks on and the menu clicks as he shuffles through. “I’ll put on something for white noise. I’m gonna hop in the shower. Figure I’ll do it now so we can get on the road early.”

You grumble and shrug. You close your eyes. His presence looms before his footsteps pad away.

He doesn’t close the door. It’s probably intentional. Does he think you’re going to go in and join him? Has he really deluded himself into thinking you want any of this? That you want him?

The shower buzzes lightly through the wall, beneath the audio of the TV. It’s some syndicated law show your grandmother had on all the time. You roll your eyes and shift to get under the covers. You nestle in and lets your fatigue cocoon you. Even so, you’re too agitated to fall asleep.

He emerges as you hide. You catch a glimpse past the blanket. He’s in only a towel. His thick arm is rounded with muscle and his broad chest is covered in hair. Boys your age don’t look like that.

You shut your eyes again as you burn in shame. You’re so stupid. You remember hearing his voice and thinking it couldn’t be some scrawny kid. You knew it! You knew it and you were too shy to call it out.

Andy gets closer to the bed. You can smell the scented soap and feel the moisture in the air. The zip and rustle of his bag stir beneath the television. The bed dips behind you and he groans. He lays down and hooks his arm around you.

“Hey, how ya doin’?”

“Get off,” you hiss.

“Huh? Sweetie.”

“I said I’m tired.” You push him away and roll off the bed. You trip as the blanket catches your ankle. You spin to face him. “I’m tired and I want to sleep.”

“I know, honey. I just--” He sits up, leaning on his arm. He’s in only a pair of briefs. Ew. “I was checking on you.”

“I’m trying to sleep. I don’t need you all over me.”

You come forward and grab the pillow. He seizes your wrist and keeps you from retreating. You tug and growl between your teeth. “I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“Why are we going backwards? I didn’t do anything.”

“You need--” you twist your arm in his grip. “You need to give me space, okay? Give me a chance to think. I can’t-- Andy. You knew the truth all along, I didn’t.”

“Backwards,” he drones in an annoyed monotone.

You drop your shoulders and huff. “Fine.” You let go of the pillow and put your knee on the bed. “Fine. I’ll come back. I’ll sleep in the bed.”

He lets you go and you put your back to him again. He sighs and his weight shifts behind you. The tension roils over you. Let him simmer. You’re on fire in anger and shame and despair. He can handle a bit of neglect. He deserves it.

🎮

You sleep. Not soundly. Each time you rouse, you remember where you are. Each jarring reminder adds to your struggle. You scrape together a few hours, if that.

You crawl out of the bed as Andy’s even breaths turn stolid. You can’t bear it any longer.

You sit in the chair and stare. You don’t bother with your phone or the TV. There’s nothing that can distract you from your life.

When he wakes, he says good morning. You feel his gaze but you react. He asks a question but you don’t respond. You just sit and watch the wall. His shadow moves around the room, around you.

He nudges you. You wince and surrender. You look up at him dully.

“Hey, wanna hop in the shower before we go?”

You shake your head.

“Okay, well, you should probably change into some fresh clothes,” he says. He checks his watch and your eyes find the digital clock by the bed.

You stand and grab your bag and your purse. You carry both to the door and step into your shoes, bending down the backs under your heels.

“Sweetheart--”

“Let’s go.”

“You can’t go out like that--”

“Who cares? I'll just be in a car.” You grumble. “I just want... it to be over.”

He silently measures your words. He grabs his keys and slings his bag on his shoulder. He nears and you grab the door handle. “You’re right,” he pulls the door back as he reaches above you. “Can’t wait to be home.”

Home. That word sinks like a boulder in water. You go out into the hallway and he points you toward the elevators. Across the lobby and outside across the lot, under the dim early morning hue.

He puts your bag in the car for you. You let him. Then he opens the passenger door and you climb in. He gets in on the driver’s side and starts the car. He asks if he should turn the air on. You shake your head. You can’t feel much of anything.

He doesn’t ask as he stops at a drive thru. He gets you both a coffee. You thank him only as you sense his eyes on you. You just have to do enough to keep him off your back.

“Alright, let’s go,” he takes the paper bag of biscuits and bacon and hands it over. “In case you get hungry, sweetheart.”

Another thank you. Your voice is gravelly and grim. You don’t sound like yourself. You don’t feel like yourself. The motion of the cars disorients you. You feel trapped in your body. It’s as much a prison as the house waiting for you at the end of this journey.

The road sprawls ahead of you. Your vision glazes over. Your head lolls against the seat as NPR drones in your ears.

Hours and hours. You eat only as he asks for some of the food. You know he’ll accuse you of being ungrateful if you waste the sausage and pastry. You chew and swallow without tasting. You wash it down with the bitter coffee and wipe your fingers on your shorts.

“There’s napkins,” he rebukes.

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine. Just saying...” he grips the wheel tight. “Why don’t you close your eyes? I know you didn’t get much sleep again.”

“I’m fine,” you insist. He knows you didn't sleep. Is he so clueless as to not guess the reason?

“Mm,” he grumbles.

You turn your head and gaze unseeing out the window. His sighs put you on edge. You twiddle your fingers.

“You’re in yesterday’s clothes and you’re barely talking,” he insists.

You cringe and put your head straight. You drop your chin and shrug. “I’m sorry, Andy.”

“I’m trying to be patient,” he lowers the volume on the stereo as he speaks. “But I’m worried. What happened to the girl I know? The one I spent all night mining with? The one who would giggle at the creepers?”

You nearly shriek. You flip your hands down and squeeze your legs. You bite your lip until you think it might split.

“Things are...different,” you mutter.

“I know but we can do it together. We can change each other. For the better. I just need you to meet me halfway.”

“I’m trying,” you whisper.

“I’m not saying you aren’t but trust me. I know that communication is the most important part of a relationship. We have to talk to each other.” He explains. “Look, I’ll be honest. I’m scared too. I’m nervous. It’s been a long time since I had someone and sweetheart, I just—I’d hate to let you down. I really would.”

Relationship? Scared? It’s too much. It’s a bunch of lies he’s convinced himself of but you can’t believe them. You can’t make yourself, even if you know you should.

He’s well off, he’s established, he’s older, he’s confident. He's offering you everything a woman wants; money, a home, a partner, yet you can’t accept any of it.

You didn’t choose this. You never even had a chance in your life to consider it. To imagine who you would want those things with. He’s snuffed that part of your future out along with your trust. You can at least thank him for ridding you of the last of your naivete.

“Okay, Andy. Trying. Honest. I’m trying but... I don’t know what to say. How to say it.” You run your hands down your cheeks and exhale. “I’m still thinking.”

That’s true. You have nothing to say. You’re lost. He might know where he’s taking you but you have no idea. It’s not about the house or the city or any of that. It’s about everything. What does he want you to be? Can he figure that out when you never even figured out that question for yourself?

#end game #andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #series #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #defending jacob

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nctstar · 8 months ago

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Can I get a smut of Johnny suh using his size and strength kink on a petite female Y/N? Thank you~

heyy! i'm so sorry this is absurdly late :(( but hope you still like it! <3

small

Wasting no time to rid himself of his clothes, he spoke. “This room is fine, right?” Muscles bulging as he fiddled with his shirt, the ridges of his chest drawing in the singlet, you bit your finger almost comically. “Hello? Earth to _?” The brown of his eyes were soft, a sharp contrast to his stature. He smirked, his hair bouncing as he threw his head back slightly. “Like what you see?”

pairing: johnny suh x fem!reader

other members: none

word count: 2.4k

genre: romance, smut

warnings: sexual content so minors please dni!! as per the request the reader is smaller than Johnny but I refrained from describing body parts or her specific size or anything like that, she is just short. if you're sensitive to this kind of talk though maybe don't read <3 mild profanity, lots of kissing, johnny carries reader, manhandling, descriptions of johnny's torso and body throughout, dirty talk about the size of his ding dong schlong, mild degradation (use of slut), ripping clothes bc those muscles do more than lift weights <3, clitoral stimulation/fingering, reader is pretty slutty and dumb during sex (aren't we all), missionary sex, praising (sweet girl, good girl), condom use, talking after sex (post nut clarity fr)

disclaimer: this is a fanfiction purely from my (filthy) imagination. I don't know the nct members and don't claim that they act like this in real life. I also do not condone any of the activity by any of the characters in this fic.

a/n: i have been in such a writer's slump particularly with smut! like i think i need some time off to write some good fics and some good smut, so i'm sorry anon and to all my lovely readers if this is shit :(

“Now why would he ever say that?” You peeked at your friend pacing around your small room through your hair. Scissors in one hand, your (new) bangs in the other, you winced. “Wait, girl, I made a mistake I think.”

She sighed as you let the strands flutter across your forehead, uneasiness settling in your stomach. “Didn’t you follow what he said?” Brad Mondo’s curtain bangs tutorial continued in the background as you turned your head expectantly from side to side. Your friend held your head in place with open palms, looking at you through the mirror. “It’s actually kinda cute. Makes you look…well…”

“Don’t say small.” She snorted, bringing a hand to her face to unsuccessfully cover her mouth. “I don’t care, that’s the funniest thing I’ve heard in a long time.”

You pushed yourself off the stool, rolling your eyes as you started undressing. “He didn’t mean it like that.” Your belt clinked as your jeans fell to the carpet, and you started bringing your shirt over your heard. “I’m sure it was his way of complimenting me.” Despite all your efforts, you couldn’t stop the annoyance that cemented your words into place. “I guess.”

“Girl, you need to tell him that it bothers you.”

“It doesn’t bother me.”

“Yeah, and it’s not weird to call some girl you’ve been on two dates with small.”

The doorbell cut through the air, making you both jump. “Shit. It’s like he heard or something.”

“Shit. Wait, just let him in and get him to wait downstairs. Okay?” Sudden panic was settling into your body, making your hands shake. Your friend got the message and hurried downstairs, zipping her skirt up in record time while hobbling downstairs. “Hope I don’t smell like chicken. I hate having shifts on Fridays.”

Staring at your reflection in the mirror, you pulled the skirt over the curves of your thighs and butt, watching the way it held onto your body. Stuffing the ends of the top into the skirt, you walked over to pick out a pair of shoes.

“I’m heading out! Johnny’s waiting down here!” Your friend’s voice made your body do the kind of useless flurry that it does whenever you know you’re running out of time, and you drag out the highest heels you own. Small, my ass.

“Hey!” As usual, he softened his frame when he saw you, placing his hands in his pockets and smiling so big so you would forget to feel intimidated by his 6-foot stature, or rock-hard physique. His eyes were like small moons, bursting on his face whenever he smiled. “Hey, nice bangs.” You instinctively went to fiddle with them, silently cursing yourself for messing them up. “Thanks.” Your smile was a little forced, but you were giddy to see him, your body rocking back and forth without your permission, ankles rubbing against each other.

∞

“The pasta was so good,” you couldn’t stop raving, your hips knocking into Johnny as he walked you home, arms linked. “Like seriously, Johnny. So good.”

He laughed, the sound leaving him effortlessly. “I’m so glad you liked it. I remember the pasta here being amazing, but I was worried you would think I’m cheap or not taking you seriously. The place being run down and all.” You shook your head, your bangs shuffling from side to side as you did. “No, of course not. I would rather eat something good on the street than a tiny portion of something small and pretentious at an upscale place.”

He hummed, moonlight hitting his body, softening some angles and sharpening others, hair glowing golden brown as he walked. Your heels clacked against the linoleum of your front porch as you wondered whether your friend was home, but before you could reach for the front door, your knees buckled. You let out a small gasp as you felt Johnny’s arms around your body, pinching into your skin almost uncomfortably. “Oh shit! I’m okay, babe.” You both froze at the sudden nickname, his arms loosening around you as you straightened up. You shakily continued. “U-uhm, sorry, I mean-“

“I think your shoes broke.”

Yeah, no shit, you wanted to bite back. But you held your tongue, frustration seeping through your pores as you held onto the rail, Johnny hovering protectively over you as you took the right heel off, now newly broken in two pieces. “Oh my god. These were so expensive! Ugh!”

“It’s okay. Maybe I can buy you another pair. Babe.” He said the last word almost sarcastically, and you glared at him. “Johnny.”

“I’m serious. I’m sorry those broke so easily. I’ll bring a new pair next time?”

“Johnny, wait.”

“You like me, right?” His face crumpled just a tiny bit. Not exaggerated like in the movies or anything, so subtle you would never notice from afar, or if you weren’t close. You warmed at the thought of knowing him so closely, so well, enough to know that something was not right in the lines of his eyebrows.

You gulped, not knowing how to respond.

“I feel like you kinda hate me.” He crinkled his nose when he said hate, almost sarcastically, but his tone jabbed you straight in the chest. You shook your head. No, of course not, you wanted to say. I like you. I like you so much. But I am small to you. I wonder if you think of me as small. Do YOU like me?

“I just, I don’t like being small.” He frowned, and so did you, the words sounding stupid as soon as they filled the small space between your bodies. “I mean, you called me small the other day. And I know you probably, well, definitely, meant it as a cute thing. Like physically. Like a term of endearment, you know? But, I don’t wanna be seen as small, like more than physically. You know what I mean?” You cringed internally at your words, watching him stare blankly back at you.

“Right.”

“I’m so sorry. I sound like such a jerk. I don’t mean to be hung up over one little word you said.” You bit your lip, tasting the remnants of your lipstick on your tongue. “It’s just what made me feel a little weird. But, I do like you, Johnny.” Your heart raced as you looked up at him. Your body moved without permission for the umpteenth time, and your arms melted around his hips, fingers splaying across the small of his back. Your mind screamed at you, but your body ignored it, burning up from within.

Tentatively, he brought one hand to your chin, skin warm but rough on yours. “I don’t think low of you. I never have. I just think you’re so fucking gorgeous. So perfect the way you are.” The butterflies in your stomach were now dancing, free, leaping over hills and grassy plains. “Sorry for the poor choice of words.”

You smiled, some of the tension leaving you as you let your bodies merge seamlessly, like lanes on an open road, like the sun as it meets the horizon. You kicked off your other shoe, standing on your tiptoes to meet his lips with yours. He tentatively glazed his hands over your sides, making you shiver and moan into his mouth. You brought your fingers to the nape of his neck, savouring the taste. “Mmm, Johnn-“

You yelped when he gripped your thigh, guiding it to press against his hips. “Jump up for me, baby.” You giggled, nodding as you straddled him, his torso gently rebounding back with your weight. As you met his lips once more, dragging your forearms across the top of his shoulders, you heard your front door open and close, the door to the downstairs bedroom fling wide open. As your back hit the bed, your hair splayed out onto the fresh sheets, knees bent, lipstick smeared.

“Uh huh.” All the shame left your body as you drew circles on his body and face with your eyes, letting his thick frame tower over you. “Is this okay?” He breathed into your collarbone, and when you nodded fervently, you felt his lips suck and nip at your neck. Gasping, you gripped onto his neck, letting your ankles hook around the back of his jean-clad legs. “Y-yes. Yes please. Don’t tease, I want y-you so much.”

“Yeah?” He played with the buttons of your top, but you stopped him. “I can’t wait…just rip it off, please. I need you. Right now. Please, just use me. I know you can.” He drew an eyebrow upwards, and you almost felt a slight twinge of embarrassment until you heard the top rip, cold air exposing your lace bra, tits bulging as you arched your chest off the bed. “What a slut. Is this what you wanted all along?” He laughed as you wriggled under him, mouth latching onto the tops of your boobs. He released you only to throw your arms up, pinning your wrists down to the bed to watch your reaction. When you bit your lip in response, bringing your core closer to his, he laughed darkly. “Freak.”

“Yes, just for you, fuck, please.”

“Bet you’re just soaked under this tight little skirt. Want me to rip this off too?” You nodded before he could even finish his sentence, and the sound of your fabric ripping filled the air. “Mmm, just as I suspected.” As he dragged your panties down your thighs, you felt your wetness pool onto the sheets under you. “Please, please, hold me down and fuck me.” You whispered into his ear, letting your plump lips graze against his skin as you massaged the nape of his neck with your fingers. You whimpered when his jean-clad bulge bumped against your clit, the burn in your core growing with every passing second.

He kissed you deeply, pulling away at an agonising pace. “Tell me why, baby.” You whined, trying to gather some friction between your legs with no avail. His arms pinned yours to either side of your head, his legs like heavy weights against yours. “Please, I just, I want your cock i-inside me, w-want it to split me open…” He shook his head. “What makes you think I would do that to you? I’m too big for you, honey.”

You whined. “N-no, please. I don’t care, just, push it in me…” He laughed, kissing you. “Please, I want to feel so full…” He shushed you, sitting up to unbuckle his jeans. “Mmm, yes, yes please…” You were just babbling nonsense, the anticipation too intense to bear. His cock sprung out of his boxers, hitting his stomach, precum spilling out the edges of the tip. You heard him rip open a condom packet, dragging it on his length at lightning speed. He ran his cockhead through the folds of your pussy, making you whimper. “So wet.” He breathed, and you gasped as his tip entered you at an agonisingly slow place. “J-Johnny.” Your brain fought your body, wanting him to continue but feeling apprehensive at the impending stretch. “You’re so big. Fuck.” You snuck a hand down towards your clit, but Johnny grabbed your wrist, leaning over to kiss your chin. “Let me.” As he pressed one finger onto your core, you gasped, back arching, eyes squeezing shut. “O-oh, oh my…”

“You like that?” He started speeding up, your gasps and moans like drugs to his system. When he pulled away, he started pushing his length in, and you let out a deep breath, as if you had been holding it in the entire time. “Fuck.” You drawled, feeling him in every corner of your insides. “Fuck, Johnny. You’re, you’re so big, and s-strong.”

Johnny laughed, and you wondered for a second whether you had ruined the mood. “My cock making you lose your filter, babe?” You blushed, but the constant bump and stretch on your clit had your vision go foggy, your head spinning deliriously. You used your forearms to push away, breathing deeply as if his cock had suffocated you from the inside out. Johnny wrapped his arms around your hips, bringing you flush against his pelvis in one swift movement. “Uh uh, where do you think you’re going?” His snarkiness and the fulness in your lower stomach made your core squeeze excessively. “Ah, shit! Fuck, I think I’m gon-“ You felt it before you could finish your sentence, your climax stealing the words out of your mouth, making your heart thump incessantly against your ribcage.

Johnny cooed at your, his forearms now caging you by your head, peppering light kisses on your face. “You alright, sweet girl?” You nodded, gasping. “Please, please move.” He chuckled, groaning as he pulled back to thrust into you, making you throw your head back and scream. “Fuck, oh my god.” Your body shook with the force of his steady thrusts, his legs pinning your body down to the bed. “Good girl, that’s it.” He groaned, getting sloppier as he reached his climax. “You’re so good for me. So eager for me to pin you down and fuck you. Because I’m so big and strong, right?” You reached for Johnny’s neck, the embarrassment at your previous comments leaving you as you felt your core tighten, coil ready to snap. “Fuck, you just gripped me so tight, fuck. Nasty girl.” You moaned as you came, feeling him release inside the condom with a throaty moan.

Both of you heaving, gasping for air, you pulled Johnny close to your body, kissing his collarbone, his neck, his face. “I do like you, a lot.” Your breath tickled his skin as you spoke, and he stroked your hair gently with one hand, using the other to pull away from you to look into your eyes. “I’m sorry for calling you small. I admit, it’s a little weird.”

“Apology accepted. I think we’ve both called each other things we’re never gonna say again.”

“No, hon, you should always call me big and strong Johnny-“

“Johnny, please. Never mention that again. It was a moment of weakness!” You whined, shielding your face as he laughed, slipping off you to lie next to you on the bed. “Kinda sexy though.” You slapped his arm playfully, laughing as slipped down his forearm to take his hand in yours.

“I’ll think of something better for next time, promise.”

#kpop #nct #nct fanfiction #kpop fanfiction #nct scenarios #nct fanfic #nct imagine #kpop imagine #nct 127 #nct x reader #johnny suh #johnny smut #nct 127 smut #nct smut #kpop smut

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neighbourscat · 2 months ago

Text

𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇 𝐌𝐄 , nicholas alexander chavez

MY BOOGIE SHOES, JUST TO BOOGIE WITH YOU.

𓈒 ˙ ꪆৎ ꣹ ۫ 𖨂 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 . .. . screen actor!nicholas c. X stage actress!black!fem!reader.

+ synopsis. dancing around your new york apartment with your boyfriend, nicholas chavez, after a tiring final show.

+ cw. mature language & suggestive stage dancing … but none, really (: just smiles, dancing, and good music!

+ nali’s notes; i love 70s-80s music soooo much. dreaming of a cold autumn / christmas fic in this tiny nyc apartment. all the short stories that’ll probably come from this nyc apartment, like a little tv show. the neighbours would have their own backstories & cute interactions. omg should i do that???? a nyc apartment series, kind of like friends or martin??? wordcount :: 2.1k+

+ to be played: dancing in the dark, bruce springsteen. || alternative: slow dancing in the dark, joji. + everybody wants to rule the world, tears for fears.

MY BOOGIE SHOES, JUST TO BOOGIE WITH YOU.

he moved his left foot backward in a smooth motion, sliding across the slick, slightly scoffed, pine theatre stage. two blue overhead spotlights had shone down onto him, highlighting and allowing the golden sequins along his black-costume pants to sparkle and glimmer. the sharp, metal heels of his four-taps no longer producing sound . .. . the active trumpet-players, acoustic guitarists, and drummers eased and eased their instruments into a low twinkle —

— the audience knew what time it was. another character was about to be introduced. in the orchestra pit, the conductor quickly switched her attention to the violinists and flute-players, baton up in the air and readied for the new entrance. the elder english woman gave the group a small cue, flicking her wrist in beat: 1, 2, 3, 4. and as the violins, violas and cellos came in quiet and steady . .. . the male dancer at the far end of the stage reached up and slowly removed the costume fedora from his neatly styled hair, staring over to his stage left.

your beautiful, brilliant and glittery gold mary-jane style tap shoes clicked as you gracefully entered from stage left — the gold fringes of your body-con mini dress flapped and swung every which way as you rolled your costume glove over your right hand, the music coming from the violins and flute-players transforming into something hot and seductive.

your glove snug — the trumpets have returned, this time with the trombones and horns, easy and gentle — with what looked to be absolutely effortless, your body control impeccable, you swayed toward your dance partner. and once as close as rehearsed, you slid your left foot backward; lining yourself up with your partner, you raised your arms neatly, fingers almost wiggling.

your partner snaked an arm around your waist, his opposite hand sensually caressing the under side of your arm — his fingers tightened on your ribs. you felt his plump lips brush against the soft skin of your neck, you don’t hold back a mini smile. and after a thirty-second sleek, clean sequence of sneaky smirks, lustful eyes, gyrating hips, and chasing each other’s feet with mirroring steps on beat — you and your partner stand center stage; he had just spun you out and away and reeled you back in, unable to give you up. you’re overlooking the hungry crowd, toe to toe, hips pressed into each other’s . .. .

the conductor slowly lifted her baton, the orchestra picking up their pace just a bit . .. . more dancers began to take the stage, ten men on one end and ten women on the other, all styled to absolute perfection — you ripped away from your partner, his hand lingering in the air as you hurry toward the women. you strike a pose and the women behind you follow suite, just as clean and precise. the men chuckle amongst themselves, lips moving but nothing being said. your partner took his place in front of the men, eyeing you down.

the blue spotlights went out and back in on beat; this time colored red. the percussion picking up intensity . .. . the atmosphere no longer showcasing love and attraction, but lust and obsession — the red spotlights darkened and blinked in and out powerfully, percussion played fast and with high energy, the string and horn instruments carried out in unison, background voices sounding . .. .

nicholas chavez, anxiously chewing at the skin of his fingers, watched as the other casted dancers performed with everything they had — his eyes working even harder to follow you around. he stopped chewing at his skin then, trying to focus his eyes on you; he couldn’t do the two at the same time. different variations of gold leotards and ruffled dresses and flown pantsuits, the maracas, xylophone — so much was happening at once. portraying chaos perfectly.

every time he found you, he had lost you just as quick. nicholas shifted in the cushioned chair a bit, mindful of the young woman sitting behind him — the saxophones and trumpets intensified, the gold-clad dancers continued shuffling and leaping up and down and around the large pine stage, metal heels touching down with the beats.

the entire stage was bathed in deep, sultry red light, casting long, dramatic shadows over each dancer — the red hue seemed to pulse with the rhythm of the music, bodies moved with precision and purpose, every step choreographed to build toward the crescendo of the performance. the audience watched in awe — nicholas’ eyes never leaving your amazing form — the dancers' figures sharp and striking against the glowing backdrop.

each dancer’s silhouette was satiny, their limbs cutting through the air like blades as they glided to their spots. and as the music swelled, the dancers reached their final positions, holding their forms in an intense, powerful tableau. their bodies arched and poised, chins tilted upwards with defiance, hands spread in graceful curves or clutched at their hips in dominance. the red light drenching them, casting their figures into stark, dramatic silhouettes — elegant and imposing, yet full of tension.

their shadows stretched behind them, larger-than-life, as if their presence demanded more than the stage could contain. the audience held its breath, the stillness of the final pose amplifying the raw energy. it was a picture of controlled power, desire, and neat mess.

the world beyond the stage faded, and all that was left were the figures frozen in that moment — red and black, light and shadow — a vision of drama and allure, like something out of a fevered dream. then, as the final note lingered in the air, the curtain slowly began to close up.

you were curled up on the couch, still basking in the soft afterglow of the evening. your legs draped over nicholas’ lap, the warmth from his hand gently tracing heart-shape patterns on your ankle. the exhaustion from your final show was settling in, but being home with him — no more hotels, no more cast gatherings, no more living through an intense schedule; eight shows a week — felt like the perfect ending to an overwhelming night.

nicholas shifted beneath you, the faintest grin pulling at his lips. “you know .. .” he hummed casually, “.. . i’ve been thinking.” that was never good. you respond with a low groan, rubbing your tired eyes, “no. i’m not doin’ it.”

“can i-i’ve gotta get it out first before you tell me ‘no’,” he said, nudging your arm. “i don’t want a lot or anything .. y’know, crazy. i just want your help.”

you stopped rubbing your eyes, dropping your hand down into your lap. you gave a look that said: ‘go on’ and he did, giving your ankle a loving squeeze: “i want you to teach me how to dance.” he sounded serious, but you couldn’t exactly tell. you blinked, face and gaze blank and revealing nothing. you turned back to the television, an early episode of glee rolling.

nicholas stood up then, gently moving your legs off of his lap. he reached out his hand toward you. you had performed so beautifully with your dance partner, nicholas wanted to move with you the same. “nicholas .. .” you stared at his outstretched hand, then back up at him, “sit back down. seriously.”

“come’on.” his brown eyes soft but determined. “just a little bit. five minutes, hmm?” he was hopeful, still waiting for you. “i’ll take anything. anythin’ i can get, okay? i’ll be grateful for whatever.” you shook your head as an answer and laid back into the plush cushion, arms crossing over your chest. “nic . .. . you can’t dance,” you said in a simple, matter-of-fact voice — not trying to be harsh or mean, and nicholas didn’t take it as such.

he knew he couldn’t. “well, baby, that’s why i’m asking you to teach me.” you looked to his big hand; he made a gentle grabby motion twice, urging you — and back up your eyes went. “i can’t teach rhythm.” nicholas dropped his hand with a hoarse grumble. you sighed, feeling your body protesting the idea of getting up, but the way nicholas was still looking down at you, with that mix of earnestness and affection, made you give in. with a groan, you held out your hand — nicholas smiled wide and pulled you to your feet.

“five minutes.”

“all i need,” nicholas confirmed with a silly smile, dragging you over to the other side of the couch. your shared apartment wasn’t spacious, for no apartment was this side of queens, new york. your deep-grey tabby cat, ruby; the world’s most mischievous kitty, climbed back in through the open window and landed on her feet, gracefully. after an afternoon of racing up and down the fire-escape and most of the block ( ruby, though mischievous, was a friendly animal ), she was ready to be in her bed.

her bed; nicholas’ pillow.

“okay, so what’s first?” nicholas clapped his hands together, anticipating the next five minutes. “music,” you said, reaching down for your phone in between the couch cushions. “oh, how about from your show? i really love the gold one, what’s that song’s name?” he went over and picked up the musical’s playbill, flipping through the first couple of pages, “that song .. when you come out for the first time and look hot?” you almost laugh, unlocking your phone and scrolling through your music. “i’m not teachin’ you that, nic.”

“look, baby, if you’re worried about there not being enough room, let’s not worry, we can move this couch around some .. . throw the cat back outside-“ you stopped him right there, “or you can get out?” nicholas laughed at that, apologizing softly, coming up behind you. his hands found your waist and his chin dug into the skin of your shoulder, watching as your finger scrolled and scrolled. your finger touched down then, the bluetooth speaker in the corner coming to life immediately.

it started off as slow, lazy dancing in the living room to random musical theatre soundtracks . .. . the moonlight streaming through the large open windows, casting cool white rays over the hardwood floors — but quickly turned into a party.

you slid in from the hall opening, wearing oversized socks, loose basketball shorts, and a baggy football jersey; from nicholas’ side of the closet, your body rocking to the rhythm. you’re holding a wooden spoon, it’s your imaginary microphone, dramatically lip-syncing to bruce springsteen’s dancing in the dark, your expression playful and exaggerated.

nicholas was in the kitchen, a spatula in his hands and dragging his fingers along the handle as if it were an electric guitar, wearing a goofy grin. he’s wearing fuzzy socks, slipping across the floor, attempting to match your moves, his brown hair messy, his shirt half-tucked — this impromptu dance-off felt as though it had been going on for hours. nicholas moved to you, your energy completely in sync, lost in the fun of the moment.

you twirled away, laughing as you swung around the kitchen island, your socks giving you just the right amount of glide across the floor. you threw a hand up, pointing at nicholas like a pop star mid-performance, mouthing bruce springsteen’s lyrics. nicholas laughed, feigning a swoon, then slid back toward you, pulling you into a silly two-step.

and now you’re in the hallway again, where you’re at his side, arm wrapped around him, shuffling in time with the beat. you and nicholas sing together now, the music barely audible over your screaming voices, off-key but full of love.

you pushed nicholas away with a playful shove — he stumbled dramatically and recovered in seconds, lip-syncing passionately. as passionate as before. maybe even more so.

you end up in the living room, this time nicholas was spinning you around — as you twirl and spin with your boyfriend, the music grew louder. your body moved with his perfectly, not with precision or control, but with the kind of ease that comes from knowing each other so well. nicholas pulled you in close, your face just inches from his . .. . he’s grinning down at you like a kid, heart racing and thrashing cutely.

bruce springsteen faded smoothly into tears for fears — nicholas started his air guitar again and you bounced toward the kitchen, grabbing your wooden spoon again. braids flipped over one shoulder, you lifted yourself up onto the island in time for the first verse of everybody wants to rule the world. swinging your dangling feet and rocking your head side to side to the drums, you sang into the spoon.

and by the instrumental break, you and nicholas are skating through the hall, singing and dancing with reckless abandon, whirling and dipping, in your own little world. you’re breathless, your face flushed with laughter — watching nicholas overdo the solo guitar outro from where you sat on the couch’s armrest. he dropped onto his knees and rolled onto his back, his feet kicking into the air.

and as the strumming died, you collapsed back onto the couch in a heap, panting and drinking from nicholas’ cold bottle of pepsi. you and nicholas both jumped up startled hearing the grating pound of fists at the front door — ruby sprung from where she laid and ran around hysterically, you and nicholas scrambled to get up; you rushed behind the couch to quickly turn the blasting speaker down and he went to the front door. nicholas was squinting through the peephole, “fuck-it’s minnie .. .” ms. minnie from two doors down hated loud noises.

but she hated the young people scattered along the fourth floor even more.

#nali’s ᡣ𐭩 #black writers #black reader #black women #nicholas chavez #nicholas chavez x black!reader #fluff #dancing in the moonlight #apartment #new york #short stories #short story

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my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction · 3 months ago

Note

Out of curiosity, how would (insert character of tour choice here!) react to being asked to kill a giant bug because reader is WAY too scared to do it themself?

Heehee, ahh this is so fun! (I'm sorry, I chose everyone basically. Also I'm a big softie for insects, and pretty much everyone is just taking them outside.)

oscar isaac charcters x GN!Reader • Rating: PG •Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | requestinfo• ko-fi •

Warnings: bugs, bug death

Word Count: 681

_____________________________________

Steven: Will NOT be killing the bug, he will be putting a cup/glass/bowl over it and putting it safely outside.

Marc: Literally just grabs it with his hands and puts it outside, usually via the window if he can't be bothered to put his shoes on.

Jake: Will very seriously pretend to get out his gun to shoot the offending insect until you laugh.

Nathan: Rolls his eyes and says "bugs are important for the ecosystem” and “the only bugs I deal with are computer ones." He has a robot to sort out real-life insects that get in the house for him. (He will never admit it but he doesn't want to touch the bug, even through the barrier of a glass.)

Anselm: His third cousin twice removed has the job title of 'insect remover'.

Cecil: Tries to get the bug in a glass, accidentally puts the cup down too quickly and cuts it in half with the rim. Has a complete breakdown over it that you will need to console him for for the next three hours.

Club!Blue: He'll make you do it yourself, and watch you while you do it.

Orderly!Blue: Please do not ask him because not only is he gonna catch the bug, but he's gonna put it on you in some kind of twisted aversion therapy.

Jack: He's... he's eaten the bug.

Santiago: Will carry you out of the room before he removes the offending insect for your well-being (it doesn't matter how much you weigh). Will ignore when you say carrying you isn't good for his knees, will kiss your cheeks and forehead repeatedly.

Shimmer!Kane: Will just look at you a little confused for a minute or two. Then he'll look at the bug, somehow the bug just walks out of the house straight away seemingly of its own volition.

King John: He's not gonna do fuck all about the bug. But he will kiss you and pull you into his lap until you've completely forgotten about the bug.

Rydal: He's gonna tease the hell out of you, 'why can't you deal with the bug?' Then he sees the insect himself and is like, 'oh no, no no.' You both have to sort out this problem together, basically attached to the hip the whole time.

Laurent: He's going to shoo the bug away and out this a large paintbrush. And then grin like a little shit when he's done it. Will expect kisses as a reward.

Poe: Does it without thinking, just gets the bug and takes it outside if it's not gonna be a threat to either of you. Doesn't even realise it's a big deal until after you hug him as a thank you.

William: There is never a bug for you to ask him to get rid of, he's made sure the place is insect free already.

Miguel: Miguel-what have you got against bugs?-O'Hara. Will stay completely deadpan until you get flustered and then will crack a cheeky smile.

Bud: He's already swatted it with his newspaper before you even have to ask.

Richard: Doesn't want to hurt the bug if it's not dangerous and will take it outside for you. Will also get his dog to 'patrol' around the house for you to keep you safe and protected from any other insects that try to encroach.

Robbie: Is so happy to be helpful, and just wants to make sure you're content and feeling safe.

Jonathan: Is so used to taking bugs out of his daughter's room that he'll do it without a second thought.

Leto: Will chuckle and tease you a little about it, but he likes that you asked him and he also likes that he can do this for you.

Basil: You're gonna have to save him from the bug, I'm afraid.

Abel: Thoroughly amused that you ask him to, won't make a big deal out of it but likes that he can sort this out of you. Makes him feel wanted.

_________________

Thank you for reading!

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#x reader #x you #x gender neutral reader #marc spector x gn!reader #x gn!reader #my writing #fanfic #oscar isaac #oscar isaac characters

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yanderederee · 7 months ago

Text

SleepOver

June1st, 2004

a/n: coping w past trauma go brrrrrr— I thought it was a cute idea. I hope yall like it♡ longer than my usual words tbh, 3.5k words… whoops. ALSO!!! I love! Writing! For MamaBaji Ryoko! Why is she also lowkey a comfort character at this point? Pls read it for her if nothing else ♡

c/w: off screen child ab*se, fluffy comfort though.

before! › now! › after!

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯✦

Keisuke and Ryoko Baji were sat on their living room sofa, eyes glued to the TV. This was it, the finale of their favorite detective-murder-mystery show. Already half an hour into the episode, they were at the edge of their seats. All the answers to all the mysteries would soon come to light…

That is, until the shrill call of the home phone broke the tension.

“Kei, you get it.” Ryoko said quickly, eyes not leaving the screen. Keisuke clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Just let it ring, I ain’t missing this!”

His mother threw an empty beer can at him weakly. “It’s bad luck to not answer a phone call!”

Keisuke gave an exaggerated groan, before doing as he was told. “Don’t let me miss anything!” He called before picking the phone from its receiver. If only he could simply pause the show for a moment to pick up where he left off….alas, it is 2004—-

“What?” He asked rudely. Before he could even have the chance to correct himself with a proper greeting, the eerie sound of crying stopped him in his tracks.

“K-kei…” your strained voice rang loud— despite it only being a whisper.

“Y/n? What’s wrong? Where are you?” He rapid fired questions, already itching to throw on his shoes.

“H… he hit me… not l-like usual… I—“ you cried even harder, breaking your poor boyfriend’s heart.

“That fucking bastard… are you still at home?” He asked. Honestly, he was eager to speed over and beat your father to a fucking pulp. He’d only met the guy once, by accident. After he learned of your father’s disgusting habit of hitting you anytime he was frustrated, Baji made it a point to make sure you were home as little as possible. He should have rocked his shit the second he first found out.

“He… kicked me out. I kind of already started walking to your place… if that’s okay,” you said softly, worriedly. “I’m sorry I didn’t ask you beforehand, if it any trouble- I’ll—“ you began to excuse yourself, in case inviting yourself over on such short notice was a nuisance.

“I’m on my way. Keep walking along the same path we always do, I’ll find you. I’ll take mom’s phone with me just in case, call me if anything changes, okay? I’ll be there in just a few minutes.” Keisuke sped his words out, turning to his mom expectingly. “I’m sorry….” You sobbed into the reciever. “Don’t apologize, don’t ever apologize. I’ll be there soon, I promise.” He replied softly. “I’ll see you soon, remember, call me on mom’s phone if you need me before I show up.”

After he’d receiving your confirmed response, he hung up the phone and ran to his room to grab his bike keys. “Who was that? Where are you going? Why do you need my phone?” Ryoko called out, worried.

“Y/n. I’m picking her up. Need your phone just in case, alright?” Keisuke said, rather than asked. Her eyes grew wide with worry, quickly pulling the decise out of her purse to hand it to him.

“What happened?” She asked, but her son was in too much of a hurry, already stepping on the heel of his shoes. “I’ll be back,” he gave no further explanation, before running out of his apartment and down the stairs.

After retrieving his bike, he was off like a bat out of hell on route to you. Keisuke could remember the path you both took to walk back and forth between each other’s homes even if he was blindfolded at this point.

True to his word, it had only taken 7 minutes to reach you; who was walking small on the furthest edge of the street. “Y/n!” He yelled after you, skidding his bike to a halt, too quickly had he hopped off and kicked over his kickstand.

He ran to you, arms open for you as you rammed yourself into his chest, tugging tightly to his tee shirt.

“It’s alright, I’ve got you.” He said calmly, careful to maintain his composure for you. He didn’t want you mistaking his pent up aggression as your fault. He could wait to release it the next time he saw your father.

“Keisuke..” you sobbed into his shirt, shaking like a leaf when his arms wrapped around you tightly. “I know. Don’t cry anymore, everything’s fine now.” He did his best at comforting you, even if he wasn’t confident in his ability to do so.

“Let’s go home, we can stop by the corner store and grab some snacks on our way. ‘You ate dinner yet?”

He pulled away, just enough to look at your poor face. God, you bruised fast. Keisuke hated how much the sight sent him over the edge. He always looked at you to feel steady and at ease with all the was wrong in the world. Yet now, seeing you so upset, hair disheveled, tear stained, and bruised… he wasn’t sure how long his restraint would last.

Still, your angelic smile took him out of his grotesque thoughts of violence. You smiled like you were so relieved to see him. Despite your poor state, you were happy to finally be held by your ever concerned boyfriend. “I’d like that…” you whispered, throwing your arms over his shoulders again before burrowing into the crook of his neck.

Baji took a deep— deep breath, before letting it out, and holding you tighter.

How many times would he break his promise of protecting you? The pain of not being able to do so was slowly eating away at him.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯✦

When you both finally made it home safe, Ryoko was sitting at the table, fiddling with a cup of tea anxiously. Quick to greet you both, the mother all but froze upon seeing your bruised face. Similarly to her son, her stomach sank and turned. Unable to hide her prickling of tears, Ryoko rushed over to you and held you in her arms tightly.

“Oh honey…” she whispered into your hair, holding back from crying as best she could. Things like this didn’t usually upset her, she’d gotten used to her son coming home with much worse a long time ago.

But you were a different story. You didn’t deserve any of the hurt that came your way.

The feeling of being embraced by her motherly scent, you were quick to tip over the edge as well. You were just emotionally vulnerable right now, you couldn’t help when fresh hot tears came spilling over onto her shirt.

“Sit on the couch, I’ll be right back.” She said with a squeeze, a final look over of your face, before dashing off to the bathroom.

Unsure, you looked over at your boyfriend. He gave you a warm smile and smoothed a hand over your back. Walking with you andsitting next to you on the couch, he pulled open the bag from the corner store. “I know you said you were cool with it, but you’re sure Yakisoba’s alright for dinner? I mean, I do it all the time I guess so I ain’t one to talk but—“

“What? Have you not eaten?” Ryoko asked with furrowed brows, hands full with anti-swelling gel and an ice pack. Nervously, you looked down in your lap. Ryoko sighed, sitting on her knees while giving your face another look over. “It’s okay, I’m not mad sweetheart. I’m happy you’re here,” she said kindly, resting her hand on your opposite cheek. “If you ever need anything, we’ll help you. You don’t even need to ask, okay?” She said while looking you in the eyes, apparently emotional as she did so.

You tried to reply to her kind words, but got chocked up before you could. So instead, you nodded softly, hugging her. She hugged you back, looked at her son, glancing at the first aid materials laid out on the table, and back to him, expectedly.

Keisuke nodded to his mother when she gave you another final squeeze before lifting to her feet. “I was just about to whip up some dinner,” she lied with an award winning grin. “Any requests?” She asked, already halfway to the kitchen.

“Her cooking sucks, but it’s tolerable—“ Keisuke began to tease, expecting to have to dodge a thrown ladle in response. But given the situation, Ryoko’s death glare was equally as bone chilling.

You giggled at the exchange, feeling a weight of tension lifting off your shoulders being in the casual and warm home. “No ma’am, no requests.” You replied. “She likes extra konbu in her soup, and extra rice.” Baji called over, grinning ear to ear when you gave him an embarrassed shove.

“Here,”Keisuke held the ice pack up, now that it wasn’t dangerously cold to hold against your face. Still cold to the touch, you flinched unexpectedly. “Hold that on there for a while. ‘Less you want to be spoiled, I can hold it for ya” he chuckled in jest.

“I got it, thanks.” You chuckled back, and held the ice pack to your cheek.

Keisuke was practically a professional when it came to patching up wounds, ever since his mom started making him to do it himself years ago. He’d be sure to help you apply the anti swelling gel after dinner.

To waste the time, Keisuke quickly turned on the re-run for his show’s finale.

You’d seen enough episodes to know a few characters names, and some important plot points, but still fell short of many of the shocking twists the show threw at your flabbergasted boyfriend.

Sitting so closely on the couch was still a little foreign to you, normally used to sitting side by side on the floor pillows. It felt weird when your knees would touch eachother, or when his arm would casually fall behind you in the back of the couch, his warmth radiating against the back of your neck.

You felt yourself wanting to lean closer, to lay your head against his shoulder. Perhaps if you were alone, you would be so bold. But with his mother just a few feet away; you couldn’t bring yourself to do so.

“Damn that was good!” The youngest Baji hollered with glee. “I know right! Even I couldn’t have saw that one coming!” Ryoko hollered back with a laugh. “Alright, dinners ready!”

Quick to help you up from the couch by ever so chivalrously taking your hand in his, you both made way to sit at the table with giddy little smiles.

It wasn’t much, and while Baji’s off-handed comment wasn’t incorrect, you felt as though you’d just finished eating the best dinner you’d had in a very long time.

“Thanks for the meal!” You tried gathering the dishes together to help clean, but Ryoko simply wouldn’t allow it. “I’m glad someone appreciated it,” she chuckled before beginning the washing.

“About tonight, I’d offer you Keisuke’s bed tonight; but that brat can’t keep his room clean to save his life. The sheet probably hasn’t been—“ “I just washed them three weeks ago!” “Oh my god.” She sighed.

“Anyway, if you don’t mind sleeping on the couch, I’ll have Kei bring out a few blankets to lay on. Is that okay?” She asked worried.

“I really shouldn’t impose,” you tried to deflect the act of kindness, but the thought of going home made you physically want to throw up. “But… as long as you’re okay with having me, the couch is plenty. Thank you so much.”

Ryoko smiled happily, and gave her son a quick look, as if to tell him to fetch what she’d asked for. He obediently got up from his spot at the table, and left to bring in the spare blankets. “Do you need a shower?”

“No ma’am.” “You’re sure? You don’t have to be shy, I’ll lock Kei in his room so he won’t peek.”

“I WOULDNT DO THAT!” Keisuke yelled at the top of his lungs with a red face.

You laughed. “No, I’m alright, really.”

“Alright, I’ll be right back with some night clothes.” She patted your head before walking off to her room.

All the attention had began to overwhelm you, as you started fidgeting in the dinning room chair. It was a lot, more than you could get used to in such a short time.

“Sorry, I can tell you’re probably uncomfortable. That’s just the way she is.” Your boyfriend spoke in a quiet tone, as to not alert his mother in the room over. “She just really cares about you. ‘Appreciate you for putting up with her.”

You both sat in silence for a few seconds, until you stood up and helped with tucking in some blankets between the couch cushions. “You have a really good mom, Kei. I understand why you’re so serious about doing well in school now. Let’s work together to make her proud, okay?” You said to him, earning you a shocked look.

The shock wore off, and left behind a childlike smile. “Let’s do our best.” He agreed, patting your head gently, til his hands began running down the sides of your hair, and onto your cheek.

The genuine moment shared between you two made your heard pound. He’s touch was so gentle and considerate. Had you only known Baji as a brawler, the act would have seemed foreign coming from him. But you knew Keisuke as a gentle person, who loves animals enough to care for the local strays, who looked out for his friends, and fought on their behalf.

This was just another side of him you absolutely adored.

The tension created was undeniable, as you both slowly leaned into one another, threatening to share a kiss in his own living room.

“Alright, here you go!” Ryoko called out loud, as if intentionally. Your faces both went red at being caught to blatantly. “T-thank you!” You yelled back, quick to your feet and to grab the garments from her arms. “I’ll get changed.”

Quick to lock yourself into the bathroom, you couldn’t get over how hot your face was burning. The swelling on your cheek stung at the blood flow, eventually bringing you back to reality.

About why you were there in the first place. You looked in the mirror, assessing the damage for yourself. It was definitely dark, but the swelling was not as bad as it could have been.

As you changed out of your day clothes and into the clean night wear, you noticed something funny. The sweatpants fit fine, but the shirt was considerably large. Looking it over, it was a black shirt with a skull print. Definitely Keisuke’s.

Did she accidentally give you the wrong shirt? Still, as you brought the collar up to hide the lower half of your face, you could smell his usual scent over the laundry detergent. It was so comforting.

After folding your clothes as neatly as possible, you left the bathroom and headed back to the living room.

“Alright let’s see… a plastic bag to store your clothes… an extra pillow… that should be everything.” Ryoko yawned. “Alright, time to call it a night. I work in the morning, but I’ll be quiet so I don’t wake you. Sleep well Y/n~”

She escaped to her room, but quickly gave a shout, “You too Keisuke! Go to bed and don’t try pulling any funny business! My door’s open!”

Keisuke clicked his tongue, rolling his eyes at her final comment.

“Here, let me help you with this real quick, then I’ll be out of your hair.” He said while pulling out the gel from earlier. Careful as to not apply any unnecessary pressure, his middle finger gently rubbed circles into your cheek. You sat patiently as he did so, happy to be taken care of as if you were made of glass.

Once he’d finished, he tried retracting his hand, but… couldn’t. Keisuke looked over your face again, disappointed. “I’m sorry this happened…” he whispered, and hung his head. His hand followed suit, gripped in a fist as it rested beside you on the couch. “I keep saying I’ll protect you, yet…”

You smiled, accepting that it was your turn to comfort his insecurities. “You take care of me more than you realize, Kei… I couldn’t be selfish enough to ask for anything more.”

Baji sighed, laying his head in your lap.

“You should be more selfish, yaknow that?”

“I’ve always taken care of myself. I’ll manage.” You said softly.

It didn’t do anything to comfort him though.

Suddenly, an idea popped in his head. He smiled, and looked up at you from his resting position. “How’s learning self-defense sound? I’ll teach ya.”

Your eyes widened. “Learn self defense? Like, how to fight? I don’t think—“ you nervously looked away, but Keisuke took your hand in his, leaning closer. “Not how to fight, dummy. I’d rather kill someone than let you fight. Just some basic self-defense. Well, maybe more intermediate.” He thought about it eagerly. “Please? I swear I won’t be hard on you. I’ll even demonstrate with Chifuyu first so you know what to do.”

Keisuke has always been a pretty passionate guy, but right now, he was absolutely starry eyed.

Always quick to give in, you giggled at his eagerness. “Sure, I think that’s a good idea.”

After agreeing to his idea of teaching you how to defend yourself, and a final call from his mom to leave you alone, he finally departed into his own room.

Even with all the lights off, and no voices echoing through the small apartment… it felt like a home. A genuine home. It was nothing like the cold, large and quiet house you visited after school.

You felt safe, secure under the cozy blankets. The couch was comfortable, and the extra pillows elevated your head to lesson the swelling in the morning.

Therefore, There was no reason for you to be awake still, after two hours of tossing and turning.

It’s not like you were uncomfortable. Why couldn’t you go to sleep? Perhaps it was because your mind was working overtime. When you went home in the morning, dad was sure to be pissed at you for not coming home, even if he was the one to kick you out in the first place.

You were literally damned if you did return, and damned if you didn’t. You were worried about the consequences. Would he hit you the same as he did just a few hours ago? Would he ignore you? Ground you? Forbid you from seeing Baji ever again?

Well, it’s not like he knew Baji was your boyfriend in the first place. He probably already forgot all about his existence.

Still, the possibilities kept multiplying, causing you to stir with upset.

“Hey, you still awake…?” A soft whisper called from the other end of the living room. Turning to face the sound, you found Keiuske standing awkwardly. “Yeah…” you whispered back in a disappointed tone. “Can I sit with you?” He asked right after; already making his way closer to you.

You could never deny him, ever.

“Of course,” you smiled at him through the darkness, finally able to make out his facial features with him closer now, seated on the floor by your head. “Why are you still awake?”

Keisuke rested his arm on the couch, laying his head like a pillow against it as he stared at you. “I dunno.” He lied. It was easy to tell when he lied when he looked at you so sincerely.

“You sure?” You doubled down, propping your head up on your wrist to look down at him. He didn’t look away.

“I just…” Keisuke thought about his next words carefully. “I don’t know why, really… guess I’m just restless.”

You nodded, folding back a piece of hair that fell in his face. “Me too.” you lied. And he could tell. He didn’t call you out on it though. Playing with his hair eventually lead to you running your fingers through it, the same as you would when petting PekeJ. This brought Baji so much comfort, his eyes started slacking.

Not wanting to say anything to ruin the mood, you silently kept petting Baji’s smooth hair through your fingers., occasionally running your nails along his scalp to ease him further. While he began to doze off, you took time to appreciate how pretty your boyfriend was.

His clear complexion, although littered with tiny battle scars. His thick eyebrows, permanently narrowed to give him his signature resting bitch face. The faint scent of strawberry chapstick, the same one you gifted him after teasing him about how chapped his lips were for your first kiss.

Everything about him made you feel so at ease. Completely entranced, you couldn’t think about anything else.

No stupid stuff like your family, at least.

Once you were certain he had fallen asleep, you leaned in close and laid a kiss on his forehead. “I love you,”you whispered away from his ear, not wanting to wake him.

And despite not being conscious, Keisuke smiled.

You pulled one of the multiple blankets off of you, and gently draped it over him.

You laid your head down again, and watched the back of his eyelids dance in slumber, his soft snoring helping ease you to sleep yourself.

taglist: @lovley212 ,

#FragileDearest #I hope this post reaches you in good spirits #I’m sincerely unwell #tokyo revengers #tokyo rev #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo rev x y/n #tr x reader #Tokyo revengers baji #tr baji #Baji #Baji keisuke #keisuke baji #baji x reader #keisuke x reader #baji keisuke x reader #a letter from Baji Keisuke #letter from keisuke baji

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miintsprigz · 10 months ago

Note

Hello!! What would Spy, Scout, and Engie be like with a s/o who is startlingly good at voice impressions?

Dang, Anon, kept ya waitin’ long enough?

Thank you for your patience! I hope that this brightens your day.

Gonna do bullet points for this one just because I think it’ll work better. Apologies that this one isn’t as long, this is a really creative prompt! I just didn’t want to keep you waiting any longer. 💚

Mercs With A S/O Who Does Voice Impressions

Characters: Spy, Scout, Engineer (Team Fortress 2)

Warnings: none come to mind

Spy 🥖

•Spy discovered your hidden talent one day when you were asking him if he wanted to accompany you out for a quick grocery store run…on what happened to be a rather rainy day.

• “(Y/N), mon bijou, as much as I love being around you, the rain will—”

• “… ‘ruin the new shoes I just got, and I can’t have this suit getting wet either’.” You’d been working on that one for a while. Spy stared at you, actually slightly slack-jawed.

• “…pardon?” “Didn’t know I could do that, did you?” “…no, no I did not.”

•Honestly? He’s just a little jealous. That was kind of his thing? I dunno, man just wants to be a bit special.

•That being said, as you start implementing this into your talks with him more and more, he finds it to be yet another quality that makes you lovely.

•He’ll tease you at times. “How can I be sure you aren’t an enemy spy?” You laughed at this, resting your hands on his shoulders. “I dunno, do these feel like the hands of an enemy spy?”

•Biting back a laugh, he shakes his head and pulls you closer, dipping you into a kiss. As he draws back, he smirks. “And those feel like the lips of my love…very well. You must be the real one.”

Scout ⚾️

•You actually first utilized this ability of yours as a hail-mary during a fight. Scout was close to bringing the briefcase to safety when the enemy Scout suddenly charged.

•Seeing this, you looked over at Heavy, hoping he would be okay with this. “‘GOOD TIME TO RUN, COWARD!’”, you mimicked. Instinctually, the enemy Scout flinched in terror. Giving yourself just enough time…

• “Heavy! Thanks for the help, man.” “Scout, I was not over there…” “But I heard you right behind me…” The gears in his head visibly turned.

• “Oh! That would be (Y/N). They are very good at that.” Jeremy’s mouth dropped open, only to immediately curve into a huge grin. “(Y/N)…for real??? Do it again!”

• With a proud grin, you obliged. “‘(Y/N) can sound like giant man!’ See?” Scout howled with delighted laughter.

• “Whoa-ho-ho, that’s freakin’ SICK, (Y/N)! Why didn’t you ever show me you could do dat?” “I dunno, it never really came up in conversation.”

•From that point on, he’d ask if you could “do the thing” all the time. You almost always agreed, his reactions were the cutest. He’d actively show it off, with your permission.

• “Yo, my baby here, watch ‘em. …ain’t that cool?!”

•Scout was actually pretty decent at impressions himself (you already know where he got that from), and sometimes the two of you would go back and forth for a while, cracking yourselves up.

•There came a time where you rolled your eyes at one of his requests. That seemed to make him a little nervous.

• “Hey uh…(Y/N)…do you want me to stop askin’ you to do the voices?” “Huh? Oh…I mean, if I’m tired, maybe.” “Arright…I know you’re probably sick of doin’ it, but I just think it’s so cool.”

•You giggled. He looked all lovestruck even now. “I’m glad you think so~” “You really are the coolest, babe, you know that? All around. I’m the luckiest guy in this whole place.” “Awww~”

Engineer ⚙️

•The first time you did this, it was to try and mess with Dell just a little.

• “‘Needa dispenser here!’” “Scout? Where’d you need that dispenser?” “I have no idea whatcha talkin’ about.” “What? But I just heard ya!” “Hardhat, I wasn’t even over there!”

•You only got away with this a few more times before he caught you midway through. His head turned quick enough to see your mouth moving.

•With the way his goggles and hardhat covered up some of the more expressive parts of his face, you couldn’t tell if he was genuinely mad or not. “(Y/N), that’s you doin’ that, ain’t it?”

• “Yeah…” Your face flushed slightly with embarrassment. “…sorry. Got carried away.” Shaking his head, the serious expression began to break somewhat, chuckling. “Ah, no harm no foul, I s’pose. Just uh…not while I’m workin’, maybe?”

•With a smirk, you mimicked him perfectly. “‘Alrighty, partner.’” “Hoo, that really is uncanny, ain’t it? How do you do that?” Holding a finger to your lips, you snickered, and you could tell he was rolling his eyes at you.

•A week or two later, while you were on break, you heard him calling you. “Engie?” Following his voice to his workshop, you looked for him. He was nowhere to be seen in here…but you’d sworn his voice had come from here.

•Looking down, you saw a new machine on his desk. Looking closer, you saw a speaker.

• “Checkmate, darlin’!” With a hearty laugh, Engie leaned in through the doorway. “Okay, you got me…” It was your turn to roll your eyes, but you couldn’t help but laugh.

•The two of you actually would utilize this on the battlefield if you had the energy for it, getting the other team mixed up. Both of you got quite the laugh out of it.

•He never really asked you to do any of that on your own time though.

•One night, he even took you on the side after using that technique. “Hey, (Y/N)…you know I love hearin’ you as yourself more than any of your impressions, right?” He wrapped his arm around your shoulders.

•Laughing, you rested your head against him. “Yeah, don’t worry, I know.”

• “Alright. Just wanted to make sure.”

#engie x reader #tf2 engineer x reader #engineer x reader #tf2 engineer #engineer tf2 #tf2 scout x reader #scout x reader #team fortress 2 scout #scout tf2 #tf2 scout #spy x reader #spy team fortress 2 #team fortress 2 spy #tf2 spy #tf2 #team fortress 2 #tf2 x reader #team fortress 2 x reader #mint writes

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jiniretracha · 3 months ago

Text

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐥𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐲 - Jeon Jungkook (2)

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x fem!reader / Park Jimin x fem!reader (but not quite, you'll see)

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Future smut

Summary: You were supposed to spend your happily ever after with Jeon Jungkook... until a family issue causes him to leave and a sudden break up leaves you bereft in the arms of your best friend, Park Jimin.

Word count: 4.7k

PS: this is heavily entirely inspired in the last two episode of True Beauty (so consider this a huge spoiler if you haven't seen it) cause i've been a fan of it since it came out and I just had to do something about it lol

MASTERLIST // my Ko-Fi // SERIES MASTERLIST

CHAPTER 2: 𝐈 𝐂𝐚𝐧 𝐃𝐨 𝐈𝐭 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐀 𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭

The door of the limo opened wide and Nari stepped out of it with a bounce in her step. Her assistant, who was your boss, held her robe up and she placed her hands inside and tied it up over her waist.

“Face mist” she snapped her fingers.

“Y-yeah, hold on” you nodded, grabbing the mist from your pocket and spraying it over her face.

She gave you a fake smile and looked down to her feet. “Slippers” Nari demanded, pointing at her feet with her perfectly manicured hands.

You looked down at her feet and nodded, going to the back of the limo and grabbing her hot pink slippers.

Don’t curse out loud, don’t curse out loud, you repeated yourself over, and over.

Nari took off one of her shoes and dropped it far away from them.

“Oops” she shrugged and blinked a couple of times, feigning innocence. “Go fetch it, please”

You frowned and looked at the other assistant. “Um, Nari, that’s a little-” she cut herself off when Nari gave her a look.

The assistant gave you a nod and you turned around, walking towards the heel Nari had thrown. If you were a cartoon character, steam would be pouring out of your ears at that point.

When you were about to pick it up with a grumble, somebody had picked it up for you already.

“Oh, thanks- Chim!” you excitedly said when you saw his face in front of yours. You looked at his hands and saw him with a flower bouquet in his hands, making you open your mouth in surprise. “What are you-”

“Jimin, hi!” Nari said, pushing you a little to get him to look at her. “How did you know that I have a photoshoot here?” she asked, giving him doe-eyes. She then eyed the flowers and gasped. “You even brought me flowers? That is so sweet of you” she squealed, going to grab them but Jimin pulled the bouquet away from her.

“They’re not for you” Jimin said, trying not to sound rude, true to his nature.

The model’s eyebrows shot up to the crease of her forehead almost. “Oh…” Nari muttered, disappointed.

Jimin turned his whole body to face you. “They’re for you, Y/N” Jimin smiled, handing them to you.

“Oh, me?” you asked, grabbing the beautiful bouquet of tulips. “Thank you, Chim” you chuckled.

Jimin turned to look at Nari, who was glaring at you. All the kindness he had in his body had left. “Hey” he called her. Nari turned and smiled at him. “Don’t you have hands?”

“Yeah, here” Nari smiled, showing her hands to him.

Jimin brought the heel that was in his hand up to his face, and when Nari went to grab it, Jimin threw it behind him.

Nari gasped and brought her hands to cover her mouth.

“Go fetch it, please” Jimin smiled, mimicking her words from earlier.

Nari huffed and went to grab her shoe.

Jimin sent you a wink and then called the other assistant, who was your boss. “Hey, Miss. It’s okay if Y/N has the night off, right?” he asked her, giving her a charming smile and placing his hand on your lower back, making your cheeks flush at the unexpected touch.

“Y-yeah, Jimin, of course” your boss stammered with a nod of her head. “I’m really excited for your debut”

“Thank you, Miss” Jimin kindly bowed her head.

“I can help you take all these inside-” you offered but Jimin grabbed your arm.

“It’s okay, we’re leaving. Bye” Jimin smiled at your boss and dragged you along with him. “Come on”

“See you tomorrow!” you yelled while watching your boss walk away in the distance.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

Jimin led you to a restaurant and you gasped.

“Sushi?” you smiled.

“Yeah” Jimin nodded. “I know you’ve always wanted to come here, so I thought why not?”

You curled your arm around him and let him lead you inside the restaurant.

“Hello, I have a reservation for Park Jimin” he said and the waitress nodded with a smile.

“Follow me, please”

The waitress led you to a table next to the window and Jimin instantly went to move the chair for you to sit on but you were so busy looking around that you sat on the other seat, the one in front of the one he was holding.

Jimin disguised his confusion and blinked, quickly sitting down on the chair he was holding.

You put the flowers down on the seat next to you with your bag and smiled as you looked at him. You didn’t know why you were so nervous. It was just Jimin. Your friend.

Your friend who was perfectly dressed, like he had come out of an advertisement for a Dior campaign or something.

You then realised how you were dressed up, taking in your appearance. You were wearing a sherpa jacket with jeans and worn out boots. Nothing about your outfit screamed stylish and you obviously looked like you didn’t belong there. At all.

“Can I be in here looking like this? I probably look like a total freak” you whispered to him.

Jimin chuckled and shook his head. “You look pretty” he nodded.

“Oh” you said, the words suddenly dying in your throat. “Thanks”

You grabbed the menu and pretended to be reading, instead trying to control the shyness growing inside of you.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?” you answered.

“The menu’s upside down” he giggled.

You focused your vision on the menu and realised that he was right. You chuckled and put it down on the table.

“What do you feel like ordering?” Jimin asked you.

You blinked at him. “Um… I don’t know, the same as always?” you shrugged.

“I was feeling like trying new rolls, what do you say? You know, you once said you wanted to come here and try everything. Why don’t we just do that?” Jimin offered.

“I uh… I think that’d be very expensive, don’t you think?” you asked him.

Jimin waved a hand to the waitress. “You’re forgetting I’m getting well paid now, Jagiya” he said.

Not that nickname.

You swallowed your own spit and looked down to the table, uncomfortably. “Okay… let’s do that” you said, feigning a nonchalant feeling.

A while later, you had the food served on the table while you tried the rolls.

“This one has mango in it, it’s good” Jimin said, his mouth full of sushi.

You chewed on said roll and nodded. “It’s good” you muttered. “Really good”

Jimin moved his head to his shoulder. “Are you nervous?” he asked.

You looked up at him and frowned with a shake f your head. “No, no, why would I be nervous?” you asked in a high pitched voice.

Jimin smiled. “Because I am nervous” he confessed. You looked at him and quickly grabbed your water glass, downing it. “You know, after telling you that I liked you… well, I technically didn’t but it was obvious, wasn’t it?” he asked and you slowly nodded. “I’ve been thinking hard about romantic ways to tell you how I feel. I didn’t want to make a fuss like rom-coms or K-Dramas do. I’ll just be honest with you, because you deserve it” he nodded.

You gulped down.

“I like you… Y/N” he said, pressing his lips into a tight smile.

You felt like time had stopped. “I-”

“I’ve liked you for a long time, Y/N. Back then, I didn’t tell you because I felt I’d be selfish to do so” he shrugged. “That would’ve been a bad friend move. But, to be honest, I can’t contain myself anymore from telling you how I feel”

You chewed on your lip nervously while your fingers played with the chopsticks in your hand.

Jimin let out a chuckle. “I actually blurted out my feelings yesterday by accident. I didn’t— I hadn’t planned for it to go like that. I didn’t want it to go like that, but well. I can’t hide them anymore, that’s what I’m trying to say” he told you with heaviness in his eyes.

His words held such sincerity that made your heart burn. But for different reasons.

“Jimin…”

“I am begging you… to give me a chance to prove to you… that I’m right for you, Y/N” he said slowly.

You frowned, feeling the air getting thicker.

“I don’t need an answer right now. I told you: no pressure” he smiled toothily, waving his hands in front of him. “But I’d like to take you out again. To prove to you that I can be the one you deserve”

You looked at him and saw the sparkle in his eyes. He meant every word. You swallowed and nodded.

“Okay…”

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

Jimin parked his car in front of your building and turned off the car. He saw you clutching your stomach tightly and he frowned.

“Are you all right?” he asked you.

You held onto your flowers tightly and nodded. “It’s nothing, really…” you reassured him but then groaned when a sharp pain hit your chest. “Ah shit” you cried.

“Hey, hey, let’s go to the market down the block” Jimin said, starting the car again. “Let’s get you medicine”

“Fine” you sighed, feeling like you couldn’t mask it anymore.

Jimin helped you out of the car once you reached the mini market and inside, he immediately went to buy you something to eat with the medicine.

You waited by the tables and sat down on a stool with a huff. How embarrassing it was that he had to be taking care of you like that. As if you were a little kid.

He came back with the medicine and sighed, handing you the pills, as he watched you down them like it was something so normal for you.

“I saw you eating very little these days, Y/N” he noticed.

You nodded, putting down the bottle of water Jimin had given you. “I haven’t had much time to do so, to be honest” you explained, not looking at him.

“Why?” he asked you with a serious tone, so unlikely of him. “You need to eat”

“I know, I’m not a baby, Jimin” you said, rolling your eyes. “I just had a lot of work on my back and yeah, I have been eating, just not full on meals. Don’t have the time”

Jimin looked at you and sighed.

“Did I�� did I make you uncomfortable?” he asked you. You looked at him wide-eyed. “I just saw you grabbing at your chest like you do when you’re anxious”

You opened your mouth to speak but closed it, probably looking like a fish. “N-no, you didn’t” you chuckled nervously.

Jimin didn’t want to press on the matter. “Okay… I really hope you feel comfortable around me” he said and then frowned. “Scratch that, I do want you uncomfortable. I want you to be nervous and notice me when I’m with you. You know, just like I do” he smiled. “Feel the butterflies in your stomach. Not anxiety”

You forced a smile.

He chuckled and patted your hair, like he always did. “Just don’t be sick, you know?”

You bit your lip and nodded.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

You got to your apartment and turned on the lights.

Your cat, the one that Karina had brought to you a couple of months ago to cheer you up after a hard week at work, purred in between your legs and you cooed at him, bending down to hoist him up in your arms.

“Hey, Crookshanks” you said, scratching his ears. “I missed you”

You walked towards your room and sat on your bed with a sigh, Crookshanks slipping away from your arms.

Your chin quivered, feeling the need to cry bigger than everything. You closed your eyes, inhaling deep and exhaling out.

With a bit of your lip, you retained your sobs in your throat.

「 ✦ 𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡

𝐈'𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐝𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭 ✦ 」

You blinked your eyes, trying to wash the tears away.

You dug your hand inside your pocket and took your phone out. Once you clicked on the gallery app, you saw a couple of photos with Jimin there.

There was one from your graduation where he was holding your hair too tightly and your face was pinched in discomfort. You let out a breathy chuckle at that one. He had always been an I’m annoying but you love me kind of friend.

Then, you came across another one. A picture you had taken of him a week ago, after going to the cinema. He was holding the bucket of popcorn on his head with a stupid smile on his face.

It hurt to admit, but Jimin was incredibly handsome, and you would’ve probably pursued something with him, if it wasn’t for Jungkook.

Jungkook.

You hadn’t thought about him in two days, and now your stupid brain reminds you of him. Why was it so hard to-

No.

No, you weren’t going to do this.

“Okay… out of sight, out of mind, right?” you said as you stood up and headed to the shower.

Once you’ve had a moment to soak up in the warm water, trying to think the least possible about your ex boyfriend, something you failed miserably to do, you got out in your towel, shaking your wet hair with another one.

You walked towards your drawer to find some comfortable pajamas to wear, pulling out a simple tank top and a pair of shorts. When you grabbed your comfortable pair of socks that you loved to wear to bed, something slipped up.

You crouched down to grab it and gasped once you came to the reality of what it was.

It was a necklace that Jungkook had gifted you on your birthday, long before you two were even together.

“Happy birthday, Y/N” he had said with a toothy grin.

You gasped at the little box in his hands. “This for me?” you asked with a big smile.

He blushed and nodded. “Yeah, I hope you like it”

You opened the box carefully and your heart doubled its size when you found a Cartier necklace inside. You frowned. “Oh God, Jungkook, this must’ve cost a fortune, I can’t- I can’t accept this”

Jungkook chuckled and grabbed the necklace from the box. He turned you around by the shoulders, pulled your hair to the side and clasped it around your neck. “Of course you can accept this and you will” he giggled.

“I love it, thank you” you said, turning around to face him. “Thank you, Jungkook” you said, again.

He smiled and booped your nose. “You’re welcome, Jagi”

You pressed your eyes together to avoid crying and threw the necklace far away across the room.

「 ✦ 𝐈 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬

𝐂𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐈 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠

𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭 ✦ 」

You quickly sorbed your nose and stood up, wiping the tears that managed to escape.

“I can do this” you whispered to yourself. “I can do this” you repeated, “Just a couple of dates with Jimin. Someone who genuinely wants you, yeah”

You tried convincing yourself that this was what you wanted. To go on dates with Jimin to eventually start dating him. You could trick your brain into thinking that that was what you wanted, sure.

But you couldn’t trick your heart.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

The next day, Karina picked you up from work and went to a bar to have something to drink to decompress from stress.

“So… how are you with Jimin?” she asked you, as soon as your beers arrived.

You pressed your eyes together and snorted. “Karina…” you trailed off.

“What?” she smirked, “I just want to know” she shrugged.

You took a sip from your beer and sighed. “It’s cool, I guess” you shrugged, feeling like there was nothing else to add.

“You don’t like him?” Karina asked you.

You frowned. “N-no, it’s not that I don’t like him. I mean, he’s great. He’s super attentive, he knows me really well, which is terrifying, he’s handsome, he’s cool, he’s funny…” you trailed off.

“But you don’t like him” Karina didn’t ask this time. She stated.

You looked at Karina who gave you a sympathetic smile. “No.” you sighed. “How can I make me like him, though? I really want to like him. Because he’s great, he’s good to me”

Karina shrugged. “Maybe with time, bubs. But don’t pressure yourself into something you’re not ready” she gently said. “Or something you don’t feel”

You smiled at your friend, really thankful to have someone like her next to you. “Thank you, Kari”

She smiled. “No worries, girl. I’ve got your back”

“Yeah, a little bit too much, it makes me feel bad” you scoffed with a laugh.

“I love having your back, Y/N. Plus, it’s what friends are supposed to do” she shrugged.

“Yeah. Okay, enough about me. I feel like every time we hang out we talk about my miserable life, and it’s starting to get boring, honestly. How are you and Tae?” you asked her.

She smiled instantly at the mention of her boyfriend. “We’re really good, Y/N” she said, genuinely happy. “I… don’t tell anyone but I think he’s really close to proposing”

You gasped, covering your mouth with your hands. “What? Really?!” you squealed and she nodded. “Oh my God, Karina, that’s amazing!”

“I know, I know” she said, pressing her hands to her cheek to soothe down the blush she felt creeping on her cheeks.

“I am definitely the maid of honor, right?”

“Are you kidding me?” she scoffed, offended by the question. “Of course you are gonna be the maid of honor, Y/N”

“God! Taehyung you better propose to her, otherwise, I’m killing you” you said out loud, making Karina laugh. “How do you know, though?”

Karina looked up, thinking. “Well, he’s been dropping hints, being very secretive about something but making me aware that he’s being secretive about something” she smirked. “I’m having this urge to snoop in his closet, you know, under his underwear to see if he has that box hidden somewhere”

“No!” you almost yelled. “No, girl, let him surprise you!”

Karina sighed, defeatedly. “You’re right” she nodded.

“Okay, let’s make a toast. For upcoming engagements”

She held her beer up and clinked it with yours. “And to finding happiness”

You felt a sharp sting on your nose, like you were about to cry.

“Yeah, and that too” you smiled.

You made the toast and downed your beers.

「 ✦ 𝐈'𝐦 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐤𝐢𝐝

𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐭

𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝: "𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐞, 𝐲��𝐮 𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐚 𝐟𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭 '𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭

"𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐝𝐢𝐝✦ 」

You faked a smile and continued with the conversation that Karina had started about wedding gowns or some sort.

You were going to be okay.

You can do it with a broken heart.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

By the end of the night, Karina dropped you at your house and waved to you from the car before speeding off.

Even if the beers were what you needed, you felt the need to drink more alcohol along with something sweet to soothe down the uneasiness you were feeling in your stomach.

You walked towards the mini market down the block and purchased a carton of soju and some sweets.

As you were paying, two customers behind you were talking and you couldn’t help but perk up your ears.

“It’s the first snow?” she asked her friend.

“Yeah, it is” the friend replied.

“Gosh, I hate it when it snows” she shook her head.

The cashier told you the price and you paid, without even paying attention to how much it was. You were focusing on one thing.

It was the first snow.

You got out of the mini market with your stuff inside your pockets with one thing in your mind:

Getting to Namsan as quickly as you could.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

You got out of the taxi cab you had called and walked the steps of the building.

What am I even doing here?, you asked yourself.

You shook your head, not even wanting to go further into it.

You rode the cable car, downing the packet of sweets you had bought with a smile on your face. Nothing better than a snowy weather with something sweet to down it.

After a week of a shit ton of work, you felt the need to cool down.

You walked out of the cable car and handed the security guard your ticket, granting your access to the outer observatory.

As you walked the steps, deep in your thoughts, you felt a sharp pain in your stomach.

“Fuck… not now, not now” you whispered to yourself. With heavy legs, you carried yourself up the steps to the observatory when you saw someone with dark hair, a long coat and pierced ears.

No… it couldn’t be.

He walked just like him, with that lazy swagger and full of confidence in himself. It had to be… but it couldn't be.

You ran towards him, not knowing what really came over you and grabbed his arm. “Jungkook!” you called loudly.

The man turned around and you gasped.

It wasn’t him.

The man looked at you with a frown and pulled his face back, clearly confused at why a stranger was calling him another name and grabbing at him.

Your eyes widened and your cheeks blushed. “Oh, God, I’m so, so sorry. I thought- I thought you were someone else” you stammered. “Sorry, again”

“No, it’s okay” the man smiled slightly and walked away.

You pressed your hand on your forehead and let out an embarrassed sigh. “Good job, Y/N. Good job” you scolded yourself as you plopped down on a bench with a tired sigh.

You dug your hand inside your pocket and took your carton of soju out. You plucked the straw and started drinking.

“Gosh that feels good” you sighed. The embarrassment washed away the moment you took a sip of apple soju, your favourite kind.

You felt your pocket buzzing with a call and you took your phone out, without realising that your wallet fell out of your pocket.

“Hey, Chim” you said, sipping on the soju carton.

He smiled at the nickname. “Hi, Y/N” he replied. “How are you? I haven’t seen you today, I missed you”

You licked your lips and took a huge gulp of your alcoholic drink. “Yeah, I’ve- I’ve been really busy and Karina took me out for a drink today, so…”

“Oh, you had fun”

“Yeah, Karina’s the best” you sighed. “Also, don’t tell anybody…”

“Okay, okay” Jimin lowered his voice.

“Karina thinks that Tae’s gonna propose to her soon” you told him and you heard his gasp.

“No way, really?”

“Yeah!” you nodded. “How exciting is that? They’ve been in love with each other for a long ass time, it was just a matter of time for them to get engaged”

“Well, it’s just a suspicion, right?” Jimin asked.

“Yeah, yeah. Karina thinks that he’ll propose and she just told me today. We don’t know for certain. But I wouldn’t be surprised” you told him while you sipped on the carton.

“No, I honestly got surprised at first when you told me but now that I think about it… it was really in their destiny for those two to get married. Their kids would be gorgeous” Jimin chuckled.

You gasped. “I mean, right?” you nodded. “Absolutely, they’d be the most beautiful kids ever”

Jimin frowned. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“What do you mean?” you asked, sipping the last drop of alcohol from the carton.

“I hear wind, are you outside? It’s almost eleven, Y/N” Jimin said, sounding worried.

“Oh…” you said as you looked at the city below. “I’m at Namsan” you shrugged.

“Huh? At Namsan?” Jimin echoed. “It’s late and freezing ass, Y/N. The hell are you doing at Namsan?” he asked you.

You chuckled at his worried state. “I’m okay, Chim. I visit Namsan really often, you’d be surprised”

You heard Jimin let out a nervous huff and you instantly smiled.

“What?”

“Nothing, it’s just that you can be so careless of yourself” he said.

You frowned. “The hell is that supposed to mean?” you asked, getting annoyed.

“Because you’ll catch a cold or something with this weather, at this time of the night. And also? The conversation we had yesterday about food? Come on, don’t tell me you have been taking good care of yourself because you and I both know that is not true” he said.

You squeezed the carton in your hand making it shrink in your hand. “Jimin, I don't need you to care for me. I’m not saying I don’t appreciate you being there for me, because I do, and you know how thankful I am. But at some point, you gotta realise I’m an adult and I can take care of myself, alright?” you scold him.

He sighs. “I know you’re an adult, Y/N. And I know you can take care of yourself, that’s not what I’m saying. I’m just saying how I think you haven’t… taken proper care of yourself lately and it’s worrying me” Jimin told you, and you could tell he was genuinely worried about you.

“I just have a lot in my mind and work’s been hard on me” you said in a small voice.

“I know, sweetie” Jimin cooed. “And it’s going to be okay. You don’t need to punish yourself like this”

“I know” You sighed. You then got a shiver when a sudden cold breeze hit your back. “Oof, okay, I’m gonna get going. I’m freezing right now” you chuckled.

“See? At least tell me you brought your car with you” he said.

You didn’t answer.

“Y/N!” Jimin’s voice boomed through your phone’s speakers.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, okay?” you whined. “I just… I went to the mini market and heard it was the first snow, so I thought why not go to Namsan. And I didn’t have my car keys with me. I guess I was just too lazy to go and grab them, so I called a cab” you lied. You had been in such a hurry to get there that you didn’t even think about taking your car so you just took a taxi.

“Okay… can you text me when you get home, though?” Jimin asked you. “I’m not gonna go to sleep til you do so, young lady. I have no problem staying up all night til I get that text” he said, in a scolding manner.

You let out a little laugh. “I will, I will. Don’t worry. And if I don’t, feel free to give me a call” you nodded. “Good night, Jimin”

“Good night, sweetie” he said with a honeyed voice and hung up.

You put your phone inside your pocket and closed your eyes, feeling the cool breeze and light snow hit your face.

After a few minutes of soaking up in the breeze, you got up and headed down to the cable cars. The security guard smiled at you and spoke, “Can I see your ticket, miss?” he asked you.

“Yeah, hold on” you sighed, patting your pockets. Your eyes widened when you didn’t feel your wallet with you. “No, no, no, shit” you muttered.

“Everything okay?” the security guard asked.

“No, I think I dropped my wallet somewhere. Let me go get it” you said and ran back to the observatory.

You eyed every single spot on the floor for it but didn’t find it.

“Maybe it’s at the bench” you whispered, running towards it.

Once you reached the bench, you smiled victoriously.

“Yes” you hissed to yourself, grabbing the wallet and shoving it in your pocket.

You looked up and saw only one person left in the observatory, which was weird due to the hour. It was a man with black hair and broad shoulders, who seemed to notice you, so he turned around.

What you didn’t expect at all, was that the person left at the observatory was Jungkook.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

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