#neither of them plan on sparing the other | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

darkmatilda · 10 days ago

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𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: your first solo, undercover mission unexpectedly spirals out of control when a real heist begins at the scene.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐰: spencer reid x newbaumember!femalereader, robbery, the reader becomes a hostage, is beaten by the attacker (quite severely), killing of hostages, shooting, inspired by s1e9 where spencer saves elle on a train (the plot is very similar but set in a different scenery), spencer's pov, the attackers are definitely not the gentle type, reader is wearing a skirt (her whole outfit is described), glasses reid propaganda

𝐚/𝐧: merry christmas guys <3 fasten your seatbealts and get ready for this rollercoaster.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 14.8 k

"Why do I get the feeling that neither of you is even half as stressed as I am? Actually, scratch that—neither of you is even one-tenth as stressed as me?”

The question left your lips accompanied by a kind of sigh, an attempt to expel the air poisoned with anxiety and replace it with something fresh, clean.

"Because we know you’re going to do brilliantly, sweetheart," Penelope replied without hesitation, sparing you only a fleeting glance as she momentarily tore her eyes away from her computer screen. One of many screens.

Her office was filled with an uncountable number of them, all glowing brightly and lighting up the small, dimly lit space, which was also packed with her colorful accessories—pom-pom-topped pencils and flowerless plants in tiny pots, most adorned with smiling faces or hearts.

"Or rather," Reid interjected, spinning in a circle on his swivel chair, "because we both doubt you’ll even be remotely useful out there." A white box of Chinese takeout rested on his lap.

You shot him a grimace.

"Next time you try to undermine my self-confidence, make sure I’m not holding anything sharp," you warned, pointing one of your chopsticks at him. Yes, less than an hour before your first solo assignment, you were all happily indulging in junk food from the closest restaurant to the office, ignoring the looming possibility of digestive regrets. "Or you’ll lose an eye."

"Aren’t you tired of trying to kill me yet? First, you gave me a concussion…"

"You didn’t get a concussion, Reid. Stop exaggerating…"

"And now, you’re openly admitting that you plan to cause me permanent damage by depriving me of my sense of sight—which, as it is," he said, tapping the frame of his glasses, "is already in less-than-stellar condition."

"You two are just adorable when you argue with each other like an old, bitter married couple," Penelope commented with a small smile on her pink-lipsticked lips.

You first looked at each other, then at her, eyebrows raised, and in a synchronized moment, you both let out a huff. Unfazed, she continued.

"But now we really need to get to work. The exhibit starts in an hour, and you should get there with him. Have you ever used that microphone? It’s the latest model we’re testing, gosh, I’m so excited…"

"You’re adorable when you act like a typical nerd," you shot back, mimicking her little smile and tone of voice.

"A nerd I proudly am! Just like this guy here," she nodded toward Reid, who pouted slightly, looking offended. "You’re surrounded by nerds, sweetheart. Soon enough, you’ll become one too."

"Dear God, forgive me my sins and watch over me…" you whispered, staring at the ceiling.

The mysterious he that Garcia mentioned was named Christopher Allen, and he was surprisingly young for a neurotechnology engineer. He worked on issues surrounding the human brain and developed devices designed to have a broad range of effects on it. But why were you supposed to go with him to some exhibit? Equipped with a spy microphone? And why was it stressing you out so much that for the past ten minutes, you had only been picking at your Chinese takeout instead of eating it?

Well, it's hard to decide where to start explaining from.

You were summoned before Hotch yesterday, who informed you that an opportunity had arisen for you to prove yourself in the field. Alone, undercover, for the first time in your—let’s be honest—tragically short career at the FBI. On top of that, this was meant to test all the new equipment your team had received, the kind that Penelope had been so enthusiastic about. You couldn’t shake the feeling that this was the main reason you’d been assigned this task. Someone had to check the effectiveness of the gear, and at the same time, you, the rookie, needed to gain more experience. Allen’s case was like killing two birds with one stone.

This scientist had worked with the FBI multiple times, and that’s why when danger started looming over him, he was quickly assigned protection. The threat came from threatening letters and even a direct attack at his own home, which fortunately didn’t end in tragedy. Allen was descending into paranoia and was afraid to even attend public events, even ones with full protection, like the tech exhibition—taking place in one of the modest local museums—designed to showcase the latest advancements in neurotechnology and more.

He was probably afraid that during the event, someone would simply rush at him with fists and try to murder him in front of dozens of random technology and brain enthusiasts. Or something like that. Your task was to pretend to be his assistant, never leaving his side and carefully observing the surroundings. And that was it. Nothing too demanding was expected of you, unless things started to go south. However, that seemed highly unlikely, as everyone made it clear to you.

Still, you couldn’t shake the fear—whether justified or not—that something would go wrong. And it would be your fault.

“Reid, clip the microphone on her,” Penelope interrupted your train of thought with the order. “You’ve never used one of these before, have you, sweetheart?”

You nodded in confirmation, watching as Reid set aside his box of Chinese takeout to take the tiny device from her. He stopped a step in front of you, perched on the edge of one of the desks, his gaze shifting uncertainly between the small black microphone in his hand and you.

“Where… where can I…?” he asked, trailing off as he made a vague gesture with his hand, surprisingly loaded with awkwardness.

“Oh,” you let out a confused sigh, beginning to consider where it might be best to place it. The sleeve? Shouldn’t it be closer to your face to capture even your quietest whispers?

“Okay, I’ve got an idea,” you said, starting to unbutton your white shirt, revealing a significant portion of your neckline. “Here?” you asked.

“Yeah… I think so,” he replied hesitantly but didn’t move.

It wasn’t until a moment later that he swallowed and, with a slow, deliberate motion, reached for a section of your shirt near your cleavage. His actions were careful—almost excessively so—like his top priority was ensuring he didn’t accidentally brush against your skin.

The microphone’s clip was quite small, though, and attaching it to your clothing required him to take another step closer and lower his head near your chest.

Even as your breathing slowed, you couldn’t help but smile at the sight of Penelope shaking her head in amused disbelief.

You preferred to look straight ahead rather than at his fingers, working with such careful focus, though you couldn’t help but let your gaze flicker to them repeatedly. Just for fractions of a second—it was difficult to pull your eyes away once they landed there.

Only when he finished, his hands dropping quickly to his sides as he stepped back, did you realize you’d been holding your breath for quite some time. You became acutely aware of how stifling Penelope’s little office was—how did she even manage in the summer?

"That's not all," the woman on the screen broke the silence, one you hadn't even realized had fallen. "There's also a transmitter you'll need to keep on you somewhere. Securely, so it doesn't fall out. Are you planning to go dressed like that?"

You glanced down at your outfit. A simple black skirt and white shirt—the first thing that came to mind then you learned you'd be posing as an assistant.

"Inappropriate?" you asked, searching for an answer first on Garcia's face, then on Reid's. The latter gave the barest shrug, barely even looking at you.

"You look amazing. Absolutely stunning, darling. I wish I could have an assistant like you," Penelope reassured you. "But in this economy, I can only dream about it. Anyway, my point is, you don't have any pockets. Where are you planning to keep the transmitter and your gun?"

"I was thinking of just tucking it into my skirt. At the back."

"I don’t think that’s the best idea," Reid interjected doubtfully. He hadn’t reclaimed his spot on the swivel chair and stood instead, arms crossed over his chest. The embarrassment you’d managed to put him in (quite adorable, really) was slowly dissipating, leaving only a faint blush on his cheeks. The corner of your mouth twitched when you noticed it. "I mean, it could fall out, or start sticking out, which could lead to questions like why an assistant is walking around with a gun..."

"Okay, I get it," you sighed. You could’ve thought this through a bit better. "Maybe I’ll have time to swing by home and grab, I don’t know, a blazer or something..."

"You won’t," Penelope declared after glancing at the time. "But you can always borrow my jacket."

You looked at the garment draped over the back of her chair—a bright pink leather jacket. You didn’t even bother responding; you simply stared at it, letting the expression on your face do the talking.

"Alright, I admit it, I didn’t think this proposal through. So, it looks like we’ll have to..." She trailed off, her gaze landing on Reid’s figure. Surprised by the attention, he pointed at himself.

You also directed your attention at him. He was wearing a simple brown blazer, which would go well with your unremarkable outfit.

"Take it off," you instructed.

He was silent for a moment, though there was no visible protest on his face—just doubt.

"It’s gonna be too big," he remarked, his hands gently grasping the edges of the jacket as if unsure whether to take it off.

"Apparently, oversized is coming back into fashion."

"Okay, fine," he sighed, removing the jacket. Underneath, he wore a shirt and a black vest, from which a matching tie peeked out. Initially, he seemed hesitant about the idea, but handed it to you with some urgency. "Here you go."

You sent him a brief, grateful smile.

"You’re saving my mission, Reid. I’ll mention you in the report. And I’ll frame your name with a little heart, drawn with one of Penelope’s glitter pens," you declared.

He returned the gesture, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly as he gave a small nod. You noticed his gaze was almost fixed on your face, as if some invisible force were forbidding him to look away, down or sideways.

You didn't think too much about what it meant, you didn't really have time. You put on the blazer, which was indeed a little too long, and hid the transmitter in the inside pocket. You placed the weapon at your hip, concealing it with your clothes. As you were about to leave, you said talk to you later because the two of them were going to communicate with you through the earpiece the entire time. They wished you good luck, and you were just about to leave the desk when Reid, suddenly as if unable to stop himself, said your name one last time.

You looked at him questioningly. Instead of responding, he made an uncertain gesture near his chest. Confused, you looked down.

For the entire time, half of the buttons on your shirt were still undone.

You had never met him in person, but you recognized his face from snippets of interviews that occasionally appeared online, or perhaps he had even been on the news a few times. He was in his thirties, give or take five years, hard to tell. His entire persona seemed to be built around the carefree nature of a young eccentric with a sharp mind and an unrestrained tongue, constantly refining his thoughts and conclusions, often controversial, causing an uproar among the public. Without a doubt, he was one of those people often called a genius. Which, not always, was a compliment.

Allen seemed deeply displeased by your presence. He looked… tired. His red hair contrasted with his very pale complexion, as if made of glass, and dark circles rimmed his eyes. He wasn’t shockingly tall, about your height, but with broad shoulders.

"The FBI was supposed to provide me with protection because some psycho is literally trying to kill me, and they send you?" he asked, bitterly, exchanging a brief handshake with you before getting into the car.

You both sat in the back, the driver at the wheel. You were supposed to arrive at the exhibition together. His reaction caught you off guard, his open anger sparking the same feeling in you.

"What's your problem?" you asked. His insulting tone irritated you the most, especially since he hadn’t even had the chance to get to know you.

For a moment, the man sat staring out the window. His body was tense, almost stiff, as if stressed. His elegant attire, with a shirt half-tucked into his pants and too many buttons undone, suggested that he usually dressed more casually.

He let out a heavy sigh, as if furious, then hastily wiped his face with his hand.

"Just..." he began coolly and cautiously, as if holding back some cruel words. "I get the feeling that everyone is downplaying the seriousness of this situation."

"We're all approaching this with the necessary commitment," you replied, though it wasn't entirely true. Allen had every right to fear for his life, but each of you honestly doubted anything would happen to him during this exhibition. If the threat had been real... Hotch probably wouldn't have sent you. "Believe me, we understand the gravity of the situation..."

"Really? Even the letters I've been getting? The content of them?"

You knew about the threats sent by an unknown sender, but you hadn't delved into what exactly they contained. Seeing you hesitate to answer, Allen scoffed.

"You're fucking great at your job, no doubt. So let me fill you in. They come every day. Every fucking day. And I read every single one of them. You know, I've even started seeing a pattern. First, they beg me. Then they threaten to fucking kill me. Smash my face into the ground, beat me to death with a metal rod, rip out my ribs, douse me in gasoline, and set me on fire..." He paused, dramatically scratching his chin. "Oh, almost forgot. They're going to peel the skin off my back. Then there's a day off. No letter comes. The next day, they apologize. I don’t know if this psycho has some extreme split personality or... or... I have no fucking idea. The cops said, get this, it's normal. 'Cause I’m a public figure."

"They brushed it off?" you asked, slightly shaken.

No matter how famous he was, threats were still threats.

He shrugged. He was trying to speak with a voice full of dismissive irony, but it wasn’t working. He stumbled, taking breaks to swallow. Though he had treated you like a complete jerk earlier, you were starting to understand.

“First off, until someone broke into my house and tried to drag me out of bed and take me…God knows where. Probably if I hadn’t had a dog…” he trailed off, glancing back out the window. You’d arrived at the museum, where the exhibition was to be held, but Allen hesitated to get out of the car. “This guy is nuts, whoever he is. I don’t know what to expect from him. He wants to kill me, kidnap me, torture me? Or maybe he’ll just settle for shooting me from a distance like I’m some goddamn Kennedy?”

“That doesn’t really sound like him,” you said in a calming tone. “He tried to kidnap you from your house, why would he suddenly attack you in a public place…”

“My fiancée is pregnant,” he suddenly blurted out.

You blinked, unsure how to respond to the sudden confession.

“Congratulations?”

“For her safety, I sent her very, very far away, somewhere she shouldn’t be in any danger,” he continued, completely ignoring your words. “And though her and the baby’s well-being is my top priority… I also need to take care of myself. I need to make it to their birth…and longer, of course. But that’s why I’m afraid to even go out to the damn store for milk, and that’s why I was so pissed off when I found out they assigned me a woman who, no offense, looks like she wouldn’t know how to hold a gun.”

You instinctively scoffed at his last comment, though it was hard to stay particularly mad at him, knowing everything he was going through. An awkward silence fell between you, heavy and laden, during which the two of you simply stared at each other. It hit you that you were responsible not only for his safety but also for ensuring that someone’s fiancé and future father would make it home.

“We should get going,” you said, nodding toward the museum. Still, you couldn’t help but feel a certain tension at the thought of leaving the car. You shook your head slightly, trying to dispel it. “And just so we’re clear, I do know how to handle a gun—more than you’d think. But for your sake, you better hope we don’t have to put that to the test.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed the corner of his mouth twitch.

"Well then, onward, assistant. Tell me, how much do you know about neurotechnology?"

Well, by the end of this day, you were definitely going to know a lot more. Together with Allen, you crossed the threshold of the museum. Its decor clashed with the theme of the exhibition, but apparently, they hadn’t managed to secure a better location.

The interior layout was harmonious—rounded arches were supported by symmetrically arranged marble columns, and the dominant shades were gold and royal red.

Your destination was the exhibition hall, circular in shape, where mahogany tables served as display stations for various prototypes in the fields of medicine, neurobiology, and informatics. In other parts of the building, there were tall, arched windows, but this particular room had none. No natural light entered; all illumination was generated by lamps that, to their credit, mimicked the natural diffusion of sunlight quite effectively.

Among the displays were an interactive brain map and various projects still in development but aimed at assisting people with disabilities.

You observed all of this with interest while simultaneously listening to your companion’s impromptu lecture on the human brain (apparently, talking helped him calm down). At the same time, you were closely monitoring the crowd around you.

True multitasking.

The exhibition was open to everyone; no one was checking who entered the venue. Although you counted three security guards in the room—dressed in simple black suits and mostly tasked with ensuring that no one tried to steal anything—there was a subtle air of unease hanging in the atmosphere. If Allen’s suspicions were correct, the person intent on ending his life could be one of these faces. To your surprise, however, he suddenly seemed far less concerned about it than you were.

“You don’t have to follow me around like a shadow,” he said, leaning toward you to make himself heard over the murmur of surrounding conversations. A familiar face with a loud, bright red tie waved at him and began making their way over. “Just don’t take your eyes off me, no matter what. And keep an eye out for anyone suspicious—whatever that means to you. Hey, man!”

He greeted his acquaintance with a friendly handshake. Following his instructions, you took a small step back, deciding to take a short stroll among the exhibits. But after barely two steps, your finger went to the discreet earpiece hidden under your hair.

“Are you there, my lovely nerds?” you asked with a playful smile, knowing they couldn’t see it but imagining their reactions.

“At your service!” Garcia responded enthusiastically, and you could almost picture her saluting on the other end.

“And what about Mr. Smartass? Did he get bored and wander off to study the reproductive habits of ants?”

“I heard that!” he replied, summoned by his new nickname. “Such gratitude for letting you borrow my jacket.”

“Speaking of the jacket,” you continued, “I found a candy in the pocket. How thoughtful of you to leave me a little sweet treat.” You weren’t joking; there really was a candy inside. You inspected the wrapper and frowned. “Marzipan? Ugh. Do you have the taste buds of my grandma?”

"To what I know, I haven't had a taste bud transplant. Especially not from anyone's grandmother," he replied nonchalantly. "And as for those ants..."

"Sorry to interrupt, my darlings, but I have a few questions about the sound quality of these new microphones..."

True to her word, Garcia began asking you how well you could hear them and instructed you to lower your voice to a whisper and then raise it sharply. Some sort of test or whatever. You did it all patiently while staring at the red-haired mop at the station across from you. Allen seemed pretty relaxed now, probably realizing nothing was going to happen to him.

"Okay, now do the sound like a chicken. I mean the noise."

"What?"

"You know, cluck."

"Pen, is this really necessary?"

"Yes, sweetie. I need to check something else. Last thing, I swear. Scout’s honor."

You sighed, looking around at the people nearby. Few were paying attention to you, you were just one face in the crowd. God, for something like this, you could ask for a raise.

"Exactly, honey. Just louder," Garcia asked.

You rolled your eyes and tried again to make the chicken sound. An older couple glanced at you, their eyes wide with horror.

"Alright, enough," you muttered, embarrassed, into the earpiece, quickly moving to a different spot.

And then you heard the pair on the other side literally choking with laughter.

"I fucking hate you guys," you said. "I hate you. Especially you, Penelope. Give me Reid on the mic, from now on I'm only talking to him."

Another burst of laughter from the woman. You clenched your jaw. And as if that weren’t enough…

"Did you want to hear me, little chick?" Reid asked politely.

“I should’ve gouged your eye out with a chopstick when I had the chance,” you hissed into the phone, a little too loudly, drawing a few curious glances. You were supposed to be watching for suspicious people, but it turned out you were acting the most suspicious of all…

“Did you catch what she said?” Reid addressed Penelope. “I only heard clucking.”

“Ha-ha,” you rolled your eyes.

For fifteen minutes, you had to endure such jokes. You seriously began to worry that they’d never get tired of it, but finally, after a quarter of an hour of psychological torture, they fell silent. You kept a sharp eye on your surroundings.

“By the way,” you began, still a bit offended by the chicken joke. “You guys should regret not being here to see these inventions. Perfect for you, nerds.”

“Well, actually, we can see them,” Reid’s voice came through the earpiece, sounding very clear, clearly taking the whole mic for himself. “Garcia grabbed footage from the cameras inside the room.”

“So you can see me? This whole time?”

“Yep. And we saw that terrified couple who ran as far away from you as they could as soon as you started clucking like a chicken. Poor souls.”

You ignored the comment and began scanning the room for the cameras. When you found them, you scratched your forehead with your middle finger.

“Can you see this too?”

“I can see how much fun you’re having,” he scoffed. “Are you going to include that in your report?”

“Exactly. Right under your name, framed with a glittery little heart. Any other requests?” Not waiting for his response, you added, “By the way, how do I look in your jacket? Does it fit me well?”

"I think so. I mean, the blazer is incredibly well-tailored. And of good quality. It’s impossible for it to look bad on anyone." He paused for a moment, and his voice grew more serious. "How’s it going? Have you noticed anything suspicious? Still feeling stressed?"

"Not anymore," you admitted, speaking the truth. Even though the exhibition had just started and was supposed to last about another hour, you felt like you had passed some milestone where nothing could go wrong anymore. "But of course, I’m still keeping an eye out. I had a little chat with Allen…"

"I heard," Reid acknowledged. "Very interesting lecture on the human brain, I must admit."

You let out a small laugh.

"I talked to Allen earlier. Still in the car. After what he told me, I don’t think he's a paranoiac. The guy is just really worried about his safety. And not just his.”

A moment of silence fell on both sides.

"Speaking of Allen, he's heading your way," he informed you, likely watching the feed from the cameras. "I guess I'll hear from you later then. I mean, I’ll be hearing you the whole time, just not the other way around. Unless you want me to constantly broadcast about ant reproduction?"

"Sorry, Reid, but I’ll pass. Maybe some other time," you chuckled, noticing the engineer approaching. As he walked, he bumped into a man in the crowd and exchanged a quick apology. You used that moment to add something else, a bit impulsively. "And what about this? Do you see this?"

You pressed the inside of your hand to your lips before unfolding it, sending a kiss toward one of the cameras. Reid was silent as Allen drew closer.

"I see it," he finally admitted, quieter. You regretted not being able to see his expression, it was unusually hard for you to picture it at that particular moment. Was he smiling? "And I like it a lot more than what you showed me earlier."

You turned your back to the camera so he wouldn’t see you smile. It only hit you afterward that he probably saw it anyway, just from a different angle.

"I see you're enjoying the exhibition," Allen said, standing in front of you with his hands in his pockets. He had stopped pretending to be the classy guy and fully embraced his more laid-back side. "So, uh, sorry, but I think I'd rather head out now."

Worried, you discreetly glanced around.

"Did something happen? Did someone stare at you weirdly, do something...?"

He shook his head, a negative gesture.

"Nothing like that. I just saw what I needed to see. Check it off the list, I’m ready to leave..."

After his words, an absolute darkness fell.

Absolute darkness, in the truest sense of the word. The exhibition hall had no windows. When the lights went out, it felt as if someone had tied a cloth tightly over your eyes. Yet, like a fool, you kept looking around, as if moving your head could somehow tear through the blackness enveloping you, freeing you from the growing panic that was slowly flooding your senses.

“Garcia, what’s up with the cameras?” Reid’s voice sounded in your ear. He was confused, not yet frightened. He didn’t know what was happening yet. None of you did.

The people around you, of course, were also surprised by the sudden blackout. A few muffled gasps echoed, one or two squeals, a smattering of curses. But there were no screams, no one tearing at their throats or blindly bolting forward, trampling others in the process. That came later.

Exactly four seconds after the first gunshot rang out.

Before, the world seemed to freeze in place; everyone’s breaths were trapped in their lungs, unwilling to escape, even out of curiosity. Your body lunged forward as if trying to flee, but it quickly dawned on you that there was nowhere to run. Where had the shot come from? Who had fired it? Was someone hurt?

Something—or rather, someone’s hand—clamped painfully around your wrist. Instinctively, you tried to pull free, letting out a sound somewhere between a growl and a garbled cry.

“It’s me,” Allen choked out, his voice trembling. You couldn’t see his silhouette, but you knew the blood had drained from his face. “What the fuck... what the fuck is happen—”

The second shot rang out, closer and sharper than the first. Chaos erupted in the room. Screams, so hysterical they drowned out the voices coming through your earpiece, filled the air. Something struck you hard, sending you stumbling as pain radiated through your shoulder. It was an empty kind of pain—something you felt and yet didn’t. You realized it must have been one of the panicked people charging blindly through the dark.

“Here,” you commanded, your mind snapping briefly into clarity. In your mind’s eye, you pictured the layout of the room before the lights went out. The corner of the hall, the wooden table behind you, where one of the prototypes had been displayed.

You slipped under the table, dragging Allen with you. He groaned as his head hit the underside of the furniture.

You were so utterly disoriented that it felt as though your own name was echoing on a loop inside your head. It took you a moment to realize it wasn’t just your mind playing tricks—it was someone’s voice, growing more familiar with each passing second.

The third gunshot.

Allen choked on his breath, his hand still gripping your wrist so tightly you feared it might snap—yet you didn’t register it as pain, merely as a sensation. The two of you crouched beneath the table, facing each other, teetering on the edge of succumbing to the abyss of panic.

Reid spoke your name again, faintly, as though he were far too close to the microphone. As though leaning in would somehow make you hear him better—make you respond.

“I’m here,” you managed to stammer, the first thing that came to your mind.

"Thank God, I thought..." he sighed, suddenly stopping, as if realizing it wasn't yet time for relief. "Are you... are you hurt?"

"My arm."

You didn't know why those words escaped your lips. Maybe because, although your mind was too occupied with trying to figure out the situation to focus on something like pain, your body couldn’t ignore the fact that it felt it. Against your will, you let out a hiss and finally pulled your hand out of Allen's grip.

"You've been shot? We... we can't see anything, do you have anything to stop the bleeding, maybe use my jacket..."

"I don't know what's happening, we've completely lost access to the camera feed, someone must have turned them all off, just like the power... Reid, immediately notify Hotch, he needs to know something's wrong..."

On the other side, chaos erupted, comparable to the one surrounding you. Penelope was aggressively pressing the keyboard keys, Reid was rushing between a phone conversation with Hotch and throwing random phrases at you like stay where you are or how's your arm?

But was staying put the right decision? Wasn't it just waiting for the person responsible for starting this... massacre to come for you? On the other hand, how were you supposed to escape? In complete darkness? You had a weapon... but what good was it if you couldn't see anything? A sound of resigned sobbing escaped you.

And then, suddenly, right before your eyes, Allen’s red hair materialized, his fingers pressed into his skull as if he wanted to tear it apart himself. You both looked into each other's eyes. Visibility returned.

“We have light,” you said, though it didn’t loosen the grip on your chest.

“What?” Penelope sputtered, confused. “We still can’t see anything, the cameras are still…”

Allen let out a choked cry. You followed his gaze. Just before your hiding spot, a pair of leather shoes stopped.

“Get out,” commanded a male voice. You lifted your head. Above you stood a man with dark facial hair and a submachine gun, looking like an extension of his broad shoulder. You immediately noticed, besides the weapon, he was also carrying a black sports bag slung over his shoulder. Both of you were too disoriented and terrified to follow the order. “I said, fuckin’ get out and against the wall, I won’t repeat myself.”

Like animals herded into a pen, you followed his instructions to the designated spot. The entire crowd inside gathered against one of the blood-red walls of the room, some pressing their backs against it as if that embrace would ensure their safety...

“What’s going on there now?” Reid asked. “We still don’t have a feed... I can hear you breathing,” he blurted out unexpectedly.

You realized that your breath had indeed become heavy and loud. It dawned on you that you hadn’t gone through any extensive training on how to handle a situation like this; you were useless...

“Just...damn it, I know it’s easier for me to say, but try not to panic, okay? Whatever’s going on... panic will only make it worse. You need to focus, please. Can you do that? Breathe? Slowly, like I’m doing now?”

Your hands clenched around the fabric of his jacket, feeling it under your fingers. Closing your eyes, you could almost imagine him standing right in front of you, in this very building, speaking those words. It helped calm you down, at least enough for your mind to stay somewhat communicative...

“Good. Very...very good. Now, can you describe what’s happening over there?”

You knew that every piece of information you passed on would be worth its weight in gold. You tightened your grip on the fabric of Reid's jacket and began scanning your surroundings.

“One shooter. He’s herding us... all of us, against one of the walls and... stuffing prototypes into the bag, every one he can get his hands on,” you reported, describing everything you’d seen. “It looks like a robbery.”

“Just one?” Reid asked. “What were those shots? Someone... got hurt?”

You were about to deny it when your attention was drawn to a bloodstain spreading across the marble floor at the opposite corner of the room. Allen nudged you, pointing to something else—a body lying motionless.

“Guards. He... he killed all the guards,” you recognized them by their uniforms, the words barely escaping your throat. So, he hadn’t hesitated to kill, not one of those inexperienced types with any moral inhibitions. Trying to make sense of everything happening around you, you pressed your hand to your forehead. “But... but how could he see them in this darkness...”

“Night vision,” Allen interrupted suddenly, his previously hunched figure straightening as he realized it.

You found the man busy with the theft and controlling the area. He was quite solidly built, you could compare him to Derek. And, as the engineer had observed, around his neck hung a device for seeing in the dark.

“The police have arrived outside the museum, but they won’t go inside as long as you’re trapped with him. They don’t want anyone to get hurt,” Penelope informed you, then let out a soft, wheezing breath, as if she was trying to calm herself down. “Sweetheart, the whole team is on their way too. From now on, you’re our informant…”

“Is Christopher Allen among you?” A commanding voice suddenly cut through the sheet of panic blanketing the room, drawing everyone’s attention. It belonged to a truly imposing man with a shaved head and a forehead lined with wrinkles that seemed to stem more from exhaustion than age. But by far, the most significant detail about him was the submachine gun he held in his hands.

Two. There were two shooters.

Your focus shifted to the man standing right in front of you, as if delivering some kind of speech. At first, you didn’t even register what he’d asked. He repeated the question quickly and impatiently, and you froze. Not that you’d been particularly active before, but in that moment, all your bodily functions seemed to shut down completely. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at Allen—not even for a fleeting glance.

“Christopher Allen. Biotech engineer. He should be here,” the man continued, scanning the faces in front of him almost desperately, searching for the one he needed. He sounded almost... distraught? That broken expression, teetering on the edge of tears and madness, starkly contrasted with his militaristic physique.

Suddenly, his accomplice appeared, tugging at his arm.

“Jesus, give it a rest. We need to get out of here. The car’s waiting for us, remember?”

He shoved the smaller man with a force befitting his build, sending him staggering backward.

“I’m not leaving until I talk to him!” he declared with furious determination. “Christopher Allen…”

“You’ve gotta be shitting me…”

“Allen…”

His eyes scanned the surroundings until they landed on the two of you. You felt someone lightly wrap their fingers around your forearm, gripping it almost instinctively. It wasn’t a strong or painful hold, but rather one born of genuine fear, seeking protection. Protection that, from the start, had been your responsibility to provide. Yet now, standing face to face with two armed assailants, with lifeless bodies lying in pools of blood in the same room…you felt the crushing weight of an obligation you were physically incapable of fulfilling, creating a storm of chaos within your mind.

Allen must have been fooling himself into thinking he could blend into the crowd and remain unnoticed. Even as everyone’s gaze began to focus on him, urgently and with some unspoken hope, he stubbornly stood still. Or was he simply paralyzed by fear?

For the first time since he was called out, you looked at him. His eyes conveyed one thing: a simple message. It was him. The man who had been sending him threats, the one who had broken into his house. You furrowed your brows, this whole situation was becoming incomprehensible. He cared so much about kidnapping the engineer that he had organized the heist at the exhibition where he was supposed to be?

“Come here. I need to talk to you, you… you need to do something for me.”

Once again, in your ears, you heard the description of the tortures that were mentioned in the letter.

"You have to do this," you said very softly, almost a whisper. "We can't let him get angry. Do you hear me?"

It seemed like your words weren’t reaching him at all. You nervously glanced at the gunmen, hoping that the command you had given hadn’t raised any suspicion or made them think you were trying to outsmart them, deceive them in some way. Slowly, but with deep remorse, you loosened Allen’s grip on your forearm. His chest wasn’t rising, as if he weren’t breathing. But then his gaze shifted, not to you, but to the people around you, to the ones standing in fear, waiting for his reaction. Something in his face shifted, then he took a step forward.

“Slowly,” you instructed.

It seemed like the best solution. Unsub knew that the person he was looking for was among you, he had identified him without any difficulty. Allen couldn’t hide or escape, all that was left for him was to comply with the orders, for his own sake and for everyone else's. It was also important that he stalled for time. You hoped that as soon as your team arrived, they’d be able to come up with something. Maybe they were already there, working to make contact with the shooters and free you all, alive and unharmed.

At the same time, someone called your name.

"Report in."

It was Hotch. At the sound of his stoic voice, a fleeting wave of relief washed over you. You even parted your lips to answer when you realized the second gunman was staring at you. The room fell into absolute silence as Allen slowly approached them. You shouldn’t reveal that you were with the FBI or any other agency—that was a basic rule…

"Listen to me carefully now," the unsub spat, placing one of his massive hands on Allen's shoulder, causing him to almost buckle under the forceful touch. Someone behind you let out a muffled cry. "You need to remove it from me, do you understand?"

"Shit," his partner muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. He was holding a bag with the stolen equipment, constantly glancing toward the exit. You wondered if he had anything to do with the threats sent to Allen. "Shit, we need to get the hell out of here before the cops completely block our escape. We don't have time for your fucking delusions!"

“Remove…?” the baffled engineer repeated, completely thrown off.

“The chip. The one inside me. Right here, on the back of my neck.” The man jabbed a finger at the spot. “Someone has to cut it out of me. You work with brains—you must know how to do it. He’s controlling me, watching my thoughts… I saw an interview with you once. I know you’re the only one who can do this…”

The man’s words devolved into a stream of incoherent rambling. Allen had no idea how to respond, and silence stretched on the other end of the phone. Meanwhile, the second gunman tried once again to persuade his partner to escape, but this only triggered an explosive burst of rage that made everyone around them shrink in fear.

“Shut up, or I’ll blow your head off too!” the man shouted. “I’ve waited too long for this. I don’t give a damn about all that crap you stole. I don’t care if they catch me. He’s going to cut out that chip!”

“What chip?” Allen finally managed to stammer. “I don’t understand…”

“The chip the government implanted in me to control me! That’s why no hospital will remove it—they’re all under government control! Only you can do it!”

“The unsub is delusional, that much is clear,” Reid’s voice suddenly crackled in your earpiece, catching you by surprise. He must have made it from Penelope’s office to the museum—where he joined Hotch and the rest of the team—at an impressive speed. “The reality he’s constructed is starting to blur with actual reality, which makes him extremely dangerous. Just from the tone of his speech, you can tell he’s emotionally unbalanced and on the brink of a breakdown. Unfortunately, this means his actions could be erratic and violent, with a strong tendency toward escalation.”

"What can I do?" you whispered as quietly as possible, taking advantage of the commotion in the center of the room.

"Are you there? Can you speak safely?" he asked, exhaling a breath of trapped air. "I mean... What you can do, first and foremost, is stay cautious. Don’t say or do anything that could provoke him further," he instructed, his tone turning focused and determined to provide you with as much guidance as possible. You nodded almost imperceptibly as you listened, as if he could see you. At some point, your fingers began nervously clutching the fabric of his blazer again, a small, unconscious tic.

"Don’t confront his delusions—or rather, don’t outright deny them. Try not to introduce any new elements either, to avoid deepening his paranoia, alright? That could put you in even greater danger..."

"Above all, try to redirect his anger away from Allen and the other hostages," Hotch cut in. "We’re working on a way to get inside. You just need to buy us some time."

Buy some time, it was easy for him to say, you thought with sudden frustration. What exactly could you do? It was incredibly hard to make any decisions when you were fully aware that their consequences could result in the death of an innocent person—or people.

Allen was still in front of the unsub, gripped tightly by the gun-wielding man, slightly shaking his head from side to side, clearly overwhelmed by the situation.

"But... but how am I supposed to get the chip out, do you really believe the government..."

"He doesn’t have the right tools," you interrupted, taking a step forward to draw the shooters’ attention to you. You raised your hands in a gesture of surrender as soon as you found yourself in the second man’s line of sight. You were scared of the direction Allen was heading in—after all, Reid had told you not to deny his delusions. Though you weren’t sure it was the right approach, you tried to make eye contact with the unsub. You had a feeling that he might only fully understand what you were trying to convey if you did.

Everyone was looking at you now. Nervously, you swallowed before speaking again.

"If you want him to remove the chip from your body... you’ll need at least a scalpel. Well, and if it was implanted by the government... that might not be enough?"

To your surprise, the second attacker spoke up.

"She's right, Erick, we don't have anything like that. Leave him, we need to get out of here... though fuck, it probably doesn't matter anymore, I wonder if the police have already caught our driver..."

You hoped that the team had heard this and started looking for suspicious vehicles in the area. Erick, or rather the unsub, began to stare intensely at you, analyzing what you'd said.

"Keep it up," Reid said. "It looks like you’ve planted some doubt in his mind about his own plan. You can keep going in that direction, just please, please, be careful..."

"Reid," Hotch admonished him.

You took a deep breath, your mind was working so fast that it was starting to go blank. You had to say something more before it consumed you entirely.

"But... but I'm sure that if you had met under different circumstances, outside the museum, he would have been able to extract the chip..."

"No! I've waited too long, I can't stand having this crap under my skin for another minute! He'll take it out now, or he won't leave here!"

Allen's raised hands trembled at those words.

"How can we communicate with the police? Is there a phone here?" he asked his companion.

"Are you fucking out of your mind..."

"They'll bring us the equipment. A scalpel. They won't have a choice, or I'll shoot them all, one by one."

"We should focus on how to get out of here..."

"I DON'T CARE ABOUT THAT!" the unsub roared at him. Fueled by this outburst, he shoved Allen away so forcefully that the man fell to the floor. The startled man took a step back, unable to hide his fear. It was clear who had the final say in this duo. Erick was not only physically larger, most likely more ruthless, but above all, incredibly unpredictable. Without looking at you, he issued an order.

"Everyone sit against the wall, you too." Allen awkwardly got to his feet and almost ran to the indicated spot.

You didn't want to sit, to put yourself in an even more vulnerable position. But when a man with a submachine gun and a completely deranged gleam in his eyes is standing in front of you, you don't have much of a choice. Slowly, you sat down on the floor, surrounded by all these terrified people.

You studied the faces of everyone around you—scientists and random people who had ended up here simply because they were intrigued by the exhibit's theme. And that innocent curiosity had led them into such a hopeless situation, where each breath, drawn into trembling lungs, could prove to be the final one. What terrified you was the fact that the only thing distinguishing you from them was the tiny microphone pinned to your clothes and the earpiece in your ear.

The woman sitting next to you, so close that your elbows were touching, looked as though she was about to faint. Without hesitation, you offered her your hand, which she took with no resistance. In situations like that, the escape from fear was desperately sought wherever it could be found—even among strangers.

“What’s happening in there now?” Hotch asked.

You explained the situation to him as clearly and logically as possible, correcting anything they might have missed due to their lack of actual insight into what was happening inside the museum. The woman beside you looked at you strangely, smudged mascara around her eyes.

“Please don’t worry,” you whispered, making sure none of the attackers could hear you. Though maybe you shouldn’t have, you felt you needed to reveal yourself to her, to help her survive the nightmare she had found herself in. “I’m... a federal agent. I have contact with the team outside, they’re working on how to get us out of here.”

You didn’t know if those words had particularly soothed her fear—just as you spoke them, Allen practically pressed himself against you, trying to whisper something into your ear.

“Give me your gun,” he practically ordered.

You looked at him with your eyebrows raised in shock. No words were needed. Your face clearly expressed one big what?

He looked like one of those people going on and on about a newly invented device they had been working on for years, staying up every night. In his eyes was a comparable crazy but incredibly self-assured gleam.

“I know you have it, but you won’t use it. Because you're scared. And I don’t blame you!” he quickly added, moving slightly away from you. Still, your faces were tilted toward each other in a conspiratorial whisper.

“But listen to me. He cares about me, right? Or rather, he cares that I get the nonexistent chip from him. He won’t hurt me when I get closer, he’s too desperate, in his eyes, I’m his only chance…”

“You must have lost your mind,” you said through clenched teeth. Was he really willing to take such a risk and play the hero when he and his fiancée were expecting a child? “And what about the other guy, huh? Do you think he’ll just stand there calmly when...?”

“Then I’ll shoot him first. I used to go to the shooting range, I was pretty good at it. The other one will be too scared to hurt me, and then I...”

“Absolutely not,” Reid interjected.

You snorted.

“As if I would even consider it…” you muttered. Looking at Allen, you tapped your forehead. “No way. You’re not risking your life on such a stupid plan where everything could go wrong…”

“Do you think I’m asking for your opinion?” he hissed, clutching his head in desperation. “The answer is no. I’m just saying, give me your gun. Where is it?”

As he said this, he grabbed the fabric of your blazer, searching under it for what he so desperately wanted. You tried to catch his hand, but he trapped it in his grip, digging through the layers of your clothes, under your skirt. You jerked your whole body in an attempt to break free.

“Leave me alone, they’ll notice us soon…”

“What’s he doing?” Reid asked sharply. Although he couldn’t see what was happening, his voice was not only confused, but also clearly worried, maybe even angry.

“Just give it to me, what the hell does it hurt…”

His hand, despite your resistance, finally reached the grip of your gun, slightly sliding it out from beneath your skirt. You shot a quick glance toward the attackers, still engrossed in their conversation—or rather, argument. Terrified by the thought that they might notice what Allen was pulling from under your clothing, you instinctively swung at his face, causing his head to snap back with a muffled cry of pain.

“What language do I need to speak for you to understand? What you’re planning is idiotic,” you said, your words flowing together with a surprisingly calm yet furious ease. You struggled to keep your voice low, feeling as though shouting might make him grasp it faster. But that wasn’t an option. “You’d risk not only your life but everyone else’s,” you said, gesturing toward what you now had no choice but to call the hostages. “And no one wants to die because of some brainless idiot with a hero complex.”

After you hit him, Allen backed away to a distance that no longer invaded your personal space. With your breath quickened, you adjusted the position of the gun, suddenly panicked that it might fall out during his attempt to grab it against your will. Despite yourself, a strange feeling overcame you. Out of everyone—of all the people trapped in the museum—you were the only one with even minimal knowledge of what to do in this situation, the only one with outside communication to the police, and, most importantly... a weapon. And yet, with that arsenal at your disposal, you were doing embarrassingly little to improve the situation.

Your jaw tightened at the thought, your fists clutching the fabric of your blazer so hard that your knuckles turned white. It was astonishing how much that small action helped you regain your composure. Not just the feel of the fabric but also... the scent. You could almost imagine you weren’t entirely alone in this. And though you wouldn’t trade places with Reid or anyone else from the team for anything, you couldn’t shake the feeling they would handle this far better than you were.

And speaking of Reid...

"Are you okay?" he asked again, his tone much softer than before.

"I'm fine," you tried to give your voice a casual, almost dismissive tone, though you doubted you fully succeeded in masking the tension. You let out a helpless scoff in an attempt to lighten it. "I mean, fine as much as one can be fine in this situation..."

You trailed off, and he hesitated before replying.

"Hang in there, okay?" he said, so quietly you thought you might have misheard. It made you wonder if it was because he didn’t want anyone else to overhear what he was saying into the mic. If that were the case, was it because he didn’t want anyone accusing him of chatting with you when he should be doing something more important? Or maybe, he just didn’t want this simple yet anxious message to reach unwelcome ears and lose its sense of privacy. You heard him swallow. "We’ll get you all out of there soon. Garcia got the phone number of one of the attackers, the delusional one—his name’s Erick Larson, by the way. If he has it on him..."

As if on cue, the sound of an incoming call rang out. They stopped talking, and the surprised man reached into his pocket.

"What are you going to do? Negotiate?" you asked.

"Hotch is going to talk to him. The main goal is to get the hostages released."

The word hostage sounded so strange to you; you couldn’t connect it to your situation. A hostage didn’t have a gun tucked under their clothing or communicate with an FBI team through an earpiece. Those people, holding each other's hands in fear and huddled on the floor, were the hostages. Not you.

"Can you stay on the line?" the words slipped out before you could stop them. "Just, I don’t know... tell me how it really is with those ants or something." You squeezed your eyes shut as a wave of embarrassment crashed over you. You were acting like a scared child who needed a bedtime story to forget the monster under the bed. "Forget it, that’s stupid. You’ve probably got your hands full. Focus on helping us, on the negotiations."

"I'm still on the line," he reassured you, even before the echo of your last words faded. "And I’ll stay on it the whole time. And since talking to you might help you not lose your mind in there... well, I guess that counts as helping all of you. The information you’ve given us, everything you’ve told us... you’re playing a crucial role in all of this."

"I don’t think so. I could be doing so much more."

"Like what, something that idiot was planning?" he asked, stressing the word idiot. "Please, don’t even think about it. You’re doing exactly what’s needed. You’re not sticking your neck out, you’re staying in contact with us. You’re calming the others down, like that woman. That... that’s heroism, not blindly rushing at two armed men."

Moved by his words, you weakly smiled. You’d forgotten again that he couldn’t see you, or maybe it was just automatic.

"Stop, I’m going to blush. But... but thank you, Reid."

"You don’t need to thank me. Oh, he picked up..."

And indeed, Erik pressed the phone to his ear, probably realizing that it was the police trying to make contact. You fixed your gaze on him.

A completely new stage of the robbery was beginning, one on which everything depended—negotiations.

Spencer had never had a particular obsession with control.

In the vast majority of crisis situations, all he needed was a deep understanding of the causes and course of events. A thorough analysis of what had happened so far, drawing conclusions based on that, and then coming up with possible solutions, each with its pros and cons, which he also had to consider.

It involved emotionally distancing himself from the situation and relying on advice from his trusty friend—logic. And when he was guided by that cold logic, he didn’t feel the need to actively participate in what was happening around him or take any direct control. But in that particular moment—ever since he had heard the first shot coming from inside the museum, shortly after losing access to the cameras—he was almost losing his mind over how little he could do. Powerlessness was the first blow, the fact that her life, and others', depended on a man with probable schizophrenia, driven by dangerous delusions, the second, much stronger one.

As with every hostage situation, a makeshift operations camp was set up outside the building, where all necessary units gathered. Garcia stayed at her post, but he saw no other option but to go there personally. The rest of the team quickly gathered, and Hotch arrived so fast it seemed like he lived just around the corner. After all, there was a member of his team inside, the one he had sent there, never expecting such a turn of events. The two perpetrators, who were working together, seemed to have two completely different goals. One, apparently, was persuaded to go along with a simple robbery and escape. The second, Erick, however, had a different, more complicated desire from the start. He wanted Allen, who was supposed to extract a non-existent chip from his body, allegedly implanted by the government.

Allen. He spoke that name with an incomprehensible bitterness and disdain. He was disgusted by his thoughtlessness, pure stupidity. Though he was familiar with his achievements in the field of neurotechnology, he couldn't call him a scientist, really not anything other than an idiot. And it was all because he had nearly put her and everyone else in danger, because he pressured her so much that she had to defend herself by striking him in the face. He remembered how once they had slept in the same bed, so small that they almost fell off it and were forced to lie literally on top of each other. By accident, he had jabbed her with his elbow in the ribs, and before he could even whisper an apology, she hit him with such force that he lost his breath. He hoped Allen had taken an even harder blow.

He forced himself back to reality, as everyone gathered around Hotch, who was leaning over the phone. The unsub had answered, and the discussion began.

"We'll deliver what you need. All the equipment. But first, you must release the innocent people inside and promise you won't hurt anyone else. Not Allen, or anyone."

They argued, a lot. Of course, they wanted him to let everyone go, which was, realistically, impossible. Eventually, the number sixteen was agreed upon, a little more than half of the people present.

Through the microphone clipped to her clothes, they could hear him pointing at the people who were to be released. The second perpetrator seemed to have completely given in to his paranoid companion, and stopped trying to convince him to escape. He must have realized it was already too late for that.

“You’re the one who’s leaving,” he said, his words very clear, suggesting he was standing very close to her, pointing at her.

Spencer straightened up, a sudden rush of premature relief washing over him. Premature—that was the key word.

“No,” she protested sharply. “No, let her go instead of me. She’s older and not feeling well. I should stay…”

He pressed the microphone to his mouth, trying to talk her out of it.

“Do what they say, resisting might make him angry…”

“No, Reid, she’s right,” Hotch interrupted him. Spencer looked at his boss in surprise, shaking his head in confusion. Instead of explaining his decision to him, Hotch turned to her.

“You have to do everything you can to stay inside. You’re our only source of information, our access to what’s happening in there.”

“Hotch…”

Someone, JJ, placed a hand on his shoulder, stopping him from protesting further. It dawned on him that they were right, but... it was hard for him to accept. It was true that, as an FBI agent, part of her duty sometimes meant risking her life for the greater good. Still, this decision made his hands ball into fists, and he had to take a deep breath to steady himself. Suddenly, it struck him that if an unfamiliar agent, not a member of the BAU, not his friend, and someone who hadn’t shared a bed with him when his fear of the dark grew stronger, were in the same situation... he would have agreed with Hotch without hesitation.

“I told you to leave, so you leave. There’s gotta be sixteen people, or they won’t bring it to me, goddammit.”

“So let someone else go…” She cut off abruptly, a rustling sound echoing through the air, as if— as if he tugged at her clothes. Spencer almost spoke again but stopped herself. The same thought had crossed Hotch’s face, he saw it.

“Seriously, this will be better. I... I can help with removing the chip...”

“Allen has to do it.”

“Yes, but…” her voice grew more desperate, trying to come up with something more, an excuse to fulfill her duty.

“Oh, what don’t you understand, you stupid bitch…”

Spencer anticipated the sudden outburst of aggression, he had felt it building for a while. Though the unsub was unpredictable, his anger rose and fell within mere seconds, Spencer knew it was all heading in that direction. So, he squeezed his eyes shut just before the horrible, dull thud rang out, followed by a muffled cry of pain. Then the sound was drowned out by a rush, something like a thud, and he could only guess that she had fallen to the floor.

He didn't open his eyes, but something pricked at his chest. He knew that if he looked at Hotch, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from giving him a big, i told you so. It wasn’t even about being right—he didn’t care about that, not at that moment. What mattered to him was that nothing happened to her, and that was exactly what had just happened.

No one from the team said a word, though Derek turned his gaze away from the speaker, his expression one of discomfort, like someone averting their eyes from an unpleasant scene. Hotch stared at some fixed point ahead, his face unreadable, before leaning into the microphone just as—

“What the hell is this?!” the unsub suddenly screamed. “A gun? Why the hell does she have a gun on her?!”

Reid’s eyes shot open as he nearly dropped to his knees by the microphone, as if somehow that could help. The weapon must have slipped out when she fell, sliding free from where it had been concealed beneath her clothes…

He noticed Elle nervously biting her thumb, her face pale as a sheet. He read the same grim, terrified realization on her face that had already taken root in everyone’s minds. She was burned. Her cover as the assistant was completely blown.

“He can’t find out she’s FBI,” Gideon declared, leaning heavily against the edge of the table. “He’s a paranoid maniac who thinks the government is after him. If he realizes a federal agent has been in there the entire time…”

“Wait!” the second attacker spoke up. He had long since given up and was now quietly following his partner’s orders. “I heard the hostages talking... something about there being someone from the FBI among them, someone who’s in contact with the cops. I thought they were just talking crap, but...”

“How does he know that?” JJ asked, her lips slightly parted in shock.

“She told one of the women,” Spencer blurted out, though it felt like the words came from someone else. Some part of him—still detached from the full realization of what her exposure meant—clung to the fragments of logic not yet consumed by his nerves. “To calm her down... but that woman must have passed it on to someone else.”

“FBI?” the unsub repeated, almost in a daze. “Fucking FBI?”

The sound of something slamming echoed sharply—an explosion of frustration and shock. Every pained whimper, every labored breath she took, reached Spencer with cruel clarity, amplified by that damned new microphone clipped to her chest, capturing every sound in merciless detail.

He wanted to cover his ears, to block it out, but he couldn’t. His lower lip trembled, caught between screaming or vomiting the moment he opened his mouth.

Covering his ears would have been a selfish gesture, one that would only bring relief to him. She didn’t have that option; all that was left for her was to endure, as he assumed, the next kicks...

He lowered his head, not looking at the others, not wanting to see their equally helpless expressions. And although he hated himself for even thinking about it, he took two steps to move away. To escape from this place, from these sounds. Because he simply couldn’t bear them.

However, he didn’t get far; he staggered as if drunk and had to grab the table tightly to keep from falling. JJ, in some protective impulse that she probably wasn’t even aware of, reached out her hand, wanting to touch his shoulder, but he pushed her away.

“I’m calling him,” Hotch announced, immediately moving into action. “Maybe that’ll stop him…”

“Check if she has a microphone on her. If she’s with the FBI, she could have been spying on us the whole time,” suggested the second attacker, in a strangely satisfied tone. He was probably some sadistic bastard who enjoyed this turn of events.

This caused Erik to stop his attack. He completely ignored the incoming call. She took a breath, inhaling deeply, though it clearly caused her pain.

“She has…”

The unsub’s voice became very clear, he must have located the microphone and then disconnected it from her clothing, carefully watching him.

“We need to go in, we have to do something,” Elle said desperately, but it didn’t stir anyone else.

Yes, they needed to do something, but... what? Going in meant putting the hostages at risk, and their survival was the priority.

"I knew the government was spying on me," Erick muttered to himself, the microphone had probably slipped from his hand and fallen to the ground. "Not just with the chip, but they also sent that fucking..." He kicked her. "...agent."

"Give it to me," Spencer requested, exhaling with a resigned hiss. He was, of course, referring to the microphone. She still had the earpiece in; she could hear him. He didn’t yet know what he intended to say. Maybe he’d ask her to stay strong? Assure her that it would all be over soon? Would that even count as a lie if he had no real certainty they could take any action to save her? Or was this one of those morally gray situations where a lie was better than the truth?

Without protest, someone handed the microphone to him, practically shoving it into his hands.

But then they lost the connection.

The unsub must have destroyed it, stomping the microphone underfoot.

And before it happened—before the static filled the line—a gunshot rang out.

Spence found himself sitting on a chair. Not that he’d blacked out in the literal sense, but one moment he was standing upright, and the next he was slumped onto the seat—probably the only chair in their makeshift camp across from the museum. It was one of those folding chairs made of black metal and unbelievably uncomfortable. For some reason, their look always reminded him of golf courses in the blazing sun. Sometimes they’d be there… wait, why the hell was he thinking about chairs?

Disoriented, he lifted his gaze. Derek was pacing back and forth, his hands on his head, while Elle and JJ were nowhere in sight. Hotch stood in front of him, turned slightly to the side, eyes fixed on the ground, a phone pressed to his ear. His rolled-up sleeves exposed tense veins on his forearms, his hands clenched into fists.

“You killed a hostage,” Hotch said the moment the attacker picked up. Hearing the words spoken aloud, the gunshot echoed again in Spencer’s mind. He flinched, though he hadn’t the first time it happened for real.

It really happened. This wasn’t some hysterical thought creeping into your mind when someone you care about is late to a meeting and doesn’t pick up their phone, the kind of thought where your brain starts whispering that something terrible must have happened. It wasn’t a dream either, nor a nightmare blending with reality. And it wasn’t some devastating novel, a climactic moment designed to shatter the reader’s heart into pieces.

This

really

happened.

"I’ll remind you of the terms of our agreement," Hotch continued. His tone was usually sharp, leaving no room for argument. But now, having just lost a member of his team and addressing the person responsible for it, his words didn’t just cut—they sliced. Spencer fixed his gaze on him, unable to comprehend how Hotch could remain so composed in the moment. He himself…

“You don’t harm anyone else, and in return, we provide you with the necessary tools. Shooting that innocent person…”

How did it come to this—that the person who, just that morning, ordered Chinese food with him to calm her nerves; who had teasingly told him to clip the microphone onto her, leaving him flustered; whose sweet scent of hair lingered so strongly in his senses that he had to hold his breath just to focus; who, one moment, could make him laugh until tears blurred his vision, and the next, worry so deeply about her that he felt feverish with concern; who listened, truly listened, even when he had grown tired of his own voice; who helped him discover pieces of himself he hadn’t known were there; who revealed, day after day, some new and enchanting fragment of her soul; and whose laughter made him want to capture its melody, bottle it, and keep it for eternity—was now reduced to the cold, detached phrase an innocent person shot dead?

He realized his mind had become entirely consumed with replaying those moments. Thanks to his eidetic memory, each recollection was painfully vivid, yet at the same time—perhaps due to the awareness of what came next—filled with a paralyzing void. Detached from reality, he wasn’t even listening to the ongoing negotiations, only snapping back when the shadow of someone’s figure fell over him.

“Spencer,” Gideon called his name, alternating between looking at him with concern and averting his gaze, as if unable to bear the shattered expression on his face. “Did you hear what Hotch said?”

He couldn’t bring himself to shake his head, though he doubted it was necessary. Rarely did something fail to interest him, especially something Hotch had said, but whatever it was, it had landed firmly in that narrow category. After all, what could Hotch possibly have said? That he’d reached an agreement with the murderer, who would now release eighteen hostages instead of sixteen? Or perhaps, in an act of twisted mercy, he’d declared that once they brought the requested items, the killer would allow one person to go inside and retrieve her body?

He had seen many bodies with gunshot wounds to the head in his life. A vision of her with similar injuries haunted him, so vivid and detailed that he closed his eyes in an attempt to escape it. But the moment he did, the image only grew stronger, searing itself into his mind with unbearable clarity.

"He wants you to go inside pretending to be a surgeon. That’s what the unsub is asking for in exchange for the hostages. Your task would be to fake removing a chip from his body, pulling off one of your magic tricks," Gideon explained matter-of-factly, though his expression betrayed a certain doubt about the plan. He suddenly fell silent, hesitation creeping into his voice. "If you can’t do it… this isn’t an order, kid. No one will blame you if you say no."

“We didn’t know it would be such a terrible mistake,” Gideon said quietly.

“Well, that’s the thing about mistakes,” he scoffed bitterly. “You don’t usually realize you’re making them. But you should be able to predict them, especially when someone’s…” His voice broke, and he looked away, his anger momentarily crumbling into something rawer.

Even though he had lashed out at Gideon, the older man didn’t react with anger. Instead, he stared at Spencer with a calm, almost sorrowful expression. When Spencer stood, he felt the weight of Gideon’s hand resting on his numb shoulder.

“I’ll do it,” he declared after a moment.

There was no fear in his voice, no visible sign of stress. Under different circumstances, he’d likely have been unraveling, nerves fraying at the thought of entering the building with the task of saving her. But now…now all he wanted was to stand face-to-face with the man inside. More specifically, next to his neck. With a scalpel in hand.

There was no time to waste. He practiced his sleight of hand trick—making the chip suddenly appear in his palm—a few times. It had been a while since he’d done it, but even so, it came off flawlessly every time. He clenched the small device tightly in his hand and, before he knew it, found himself standing at the foot of the museum steps.

The doors opened, and the first hostages began to emerge. Their reactions followed the same pattern. First came the shock—the struggle to process that they were truly stepping outside again, alive. Then, as they began to accept it, their terrified, hesitant steps turned into a relieved jog, and their eyes brimmed with tears of gratitude.

Spencer stopped, his gaze fixed on the faces of random strangers as they rushed past. Somewhere, deep down, he held onto a foolish, fleeting hope that she might appear in those doors as well. She didn’t, of course.

But if she had… he thought, his chest tightening at the mere idea. If she had, he wasn’t sure he’d ever stop being thankful. Not necessarily to God, but to everything—every twist of fate—that had brought her back.

He had seen the interior of the building on the camera footage and had managed to memorize it. He knew exactly where to head to meet the unsub. The unsub was standing right in the center of the room. Spencer knew there had to be a second shooter somewhere, but he was afraid to look around. If his gaze happened to land on her, not only would his chip trick fail, but he was also certain he’d never be able to shake the image from his mind. It would embed itself in every cell of his brain, one after the other.

He focused all his attention on him, on Erik. He turned to him trustingly, showing the spot on his neck where he believed the chip was located. Everything about his posture radiated the peak of madness. His voice and expression oscillated between hope, desperation, paranoia, and much more that could be listed.

Spencer tried to concentrate on the chip in his hand, not on the scalpel in his other hand. He knew it would be incredibly foolish, but as he was so close to this man's throat, he couldn’t stop thinking about it. He realized that the only thing holding him back was the awareness that the second shooter was likely keeping him in their sights. It was almost certain; he didn’t need to look around to know that. But as soon as the blade touched the man’s skin at the back of his neck, his gaze, against his will, began searching. He looked at the wall where the remaining hostages were gathered, the ones who hadn’t made it into the lucky sixteen. He didn’t find the shooter.

But he found her. If he weren’t wearing his glasses, he might have assumed he’d mistaken her for some other woman. He could only blame his brain and possible hallucinations... but before he could entertain those thoughts, one simple sentence took over his mind.

She was there. Blood dripping from her nose, clothes torn, curled up on the ground among the rest of the hostages, but she was there. She was there, alive.

When you stood up for that woman, a brief struggle broke out between you and the unsub. He ordered you to go outside, but the voice in your ear told you to stay inside at all costs. Unsure of what to do, you started mumbling excuses and explanations, leading to an argument... during which he swung his weapon at you, aiming for your face.

As you fell, your weapon—clumsily shoved into your clothing after an argument with Allen—slipped out. And then things escalated rapidly.

Upon learning you were with the FBI, the unsub went into his usual paranoid frenzy. He dropped the microphone he had taken from you, and the heavy kicks of his leather boots landed on your body, on your ribs, on your back. You could barely keep up with protecting yourself, as the blows kept coming faster and faster.

And in that moment, something happened that probably saved your life. But at the same time, it cost another man and his family everything.

Allen sprang at the second attacker, who was almost hypnotized by the injuries being inflicted on you. He seized the moment of distraction, yanking the weapon from his hand and turning it against its owner. You remembered the fleeting look of triumph on his face as he aimed it at Erik. And then, the look of confusion when he was overtaken and the bullets tore through his body.

Somewhere in that moment, your microphone must have been destroyed, leaving you without contact with the team. And without it... you were just like any other hostage. Beaten, forced to stem the blood running from your nose with your blazer. You remembered glancing at it, running your finger over the fabric soaked in crimson, and thinking you'd have to wash it before returning it to Reid. Then, the hopeless realization hit you that maybe you wouldn’t get the chance to do that, and helpless tears filled your eyes for the first time.

It was strange that the unsub decided to spare you. Was it the incoming phone call that distracted him? Or perhaps the death of Allen? Was he the reason for this whole attack? You weren’t sure, maybe both at once. But you managed to return to your spot against the wall, where the other hostages had moved as far away as they could from the two lifeless bodies lying in a pool of blood.

Behind your back, the unsub was arguing with the police, probably Hotch. You weren’t paying attention to their negotiations, instead kneeling beside Allen. Completely staining your clothes, you reached for his hand. His eyes were wide open, his chest... maybe rising slightly, or maybe it was just your perception. In any case, you didn’t grab him to check his pulse, to see if there was anything that could be done to save him. You knew there wasn’t. You took his hand in a gesture of gratitude for everything, filled with sincere and deep compassion, despite everything that had happened between you. Maybe he turned out to be a jerk in that one, crisis situation where it’s normal for people to lose their minds. But what mattered was what kind of man he was in everyday, calm conditions. What kind of friend, fiancé, father he was.

You froze in place, staring at his face, his messy red hair. You snapped back to reality only when you realized the unsub was releasing the hostages. You weren’t part of that group. He didn’t look at you, or Allen, or his dead accomplice, as if you didn’t exist. The people were let out of the building, and then…

You nearly jumped to your feet at the sight of Reid, but the sharp pain in your ribs stopped you. Instead, you stared at him, confused as to why he’d gotten himself into such a messed-up situation alone. No one was with him, and you couldn’t even tell if he was carrying a weapon. Why was he taking such a risk? Couldn’t they have sent someone else?

Although your gaze bored into him, asking without words, he stubbornly avoided looking at you. It took a while, but then it hit you—he’d probably been told to hide the fact that you knew each other. He was pretending to be a surgeon, you realized.

You watched in shock as the unsub dropped his weapon and turned his back to Reid, begging him quietly to remove the chip from his body.

Before Reid touched the scalpel to his neck, he looked straight at you. You couldn’t read the expression on his face, but you knew there was a lot going on. It was a long moment of eye contact, which he broke to get to work. Focused, brow furrowed.

You shook your head in disbelief when he really pulled the tiny device from his body. Wait, so what? It had really been there all along? The unsub wasn’t a paranoid delusional?

At the sight of the chip, Erik staggered with a mix of hysterical joy and relief, and after a moment, he literally collapsed to his knees, burying his face in his hands. His body was shaken by sobs as he muttered his thanks. He was... absolutely harmless. The hostages took advantage of his vulnerability, using the opportunity to silently leave the museum. You found yourself among them, even helping those who, due to shock, struggled to move. How? With your injuries? You had no idea.

You pointed one woman toward the ambulance waiting outside the building, ready to take any injured hostages. Around you, sounds echoed, people were running in all directions. A sense of disconnection and disbelief washed over you, as if you couldn’t quite grasp that it was all over.

You turned around, sensing someone's presence behind you.

The first thing you noticed was that Spencer was still wearing his blue rubber gloves. Strange, but the first thing that came to your mind was to focus on that detail. You even opened your mouth to speak, but stopped when he gently cupped your face in both of his hands. As if you were a fragile relic, he tilted his head slightly from side to side, almost as though he was trying to deny the fact that you were standing before him.

"As if you saw a ghost," you whispered, a faint smile appearing on your face.

Taking advantage of the fact that he was leaning toward you, you pressed your forehead against his. With your eyes still open, you saw his eyelids tremble. When he closed them, you caught sight of that single tear beginning to form beneath them.

"Reid," you said, as he and the rest of the team were heading towards the exit. All heads turned in your direction, but you only cared about that one. "Can we talk?"

He opened his mouth, seemingly surprised by the request, but then swallowed and nodded.

"Sure. If... just, sure."

You couldn't help but let out a small laugh. Since your rib injuries were numerous, you had to be taken to the hospital for an X-ray. Your face wasn’t looking too good either. Only a few hours had passed since everything happened, and all your wounds were fresh and painful. After taking a decent amount of painkillers, you felt a bit like you were floating. You were sitting on the hospital bed, your legs resting on the floor as if on a bench. You made space beside you, and although he hesitated for a moment, he sat right next to you, so close your shoulders almost touched.

What you wanted to say, everything you felt, was hard to put into words. So you spent a few minutes in silence, during which you concluded that the simpler, the better.

"Thank you, Reid."

His dark eyes narrowed slightly, and he shook his head dismissively.

"Thank you? For what? I should be thanking you."

You knew this would happen. That he would downplay what he did, and it would be incredibly hard for you to express all the gratitude you felt towards him.

"For what? For everything," you stated briefly. He was preparing a response, but you beat him to it. You even raised a finger decisively, signaling for a moment of silence. You had a lot to say. "Not just for pretending to be a surgeon and getting into that museum. And don't shrug it off like it was a small thing! You saved those people."

"Maybe a little, but…"

"But that's not all. You were… you were with me the whole time. You kept talking to me the entire time…"

"Just like everyone else…"

"Everyone else gave me orders. Told me what to do to survive and what not to do. And of course, I'm incredibly grateful to them—if it weren't for them, I would have probably pissed off that unsub after less than fifteen minutes and we'd all be dead by now."

Reid flinched when you said that. Maybe you should hold off on such words, while the whole situation was still so fresh.

"You... you kept asking how I was feeling, talking to me, just... your voice, the fact that I had you on the other end, it helped me not panic. When, at the very beginning, you asked me to breathe with you..."

You shook your head, holding back the involuntary recollection of that moment, that memory when you were still trapped in that building with two armed men. Helpless and lost, clutching his jacket with all your strength.

You realized with growing difficulty that you were holding back tears.

Reid had been listening to you quietly the whole time, but suddenly, he lowered his gaze. His hand found yours, hesitated for a moment, then gently grasped it. You immediately squeezed it tightly. Something came to your mind.

"And what did you want to thank me for?" you asked, referring to when he interrupted you the first time.

"It's not... I don't have as much to say as you do," he confessed, circling the topic more than addressing it directly. He still hadn't let go of your hand, and as he thought, his thumb seemed to absentmindedly stroke its surface.

"Wow," you murmured. "I never expected Spencer Reid to say something like that in my presence, but here we are. So?"

He smiled for a moment at your comment. However, that expression quickly gave way to a more serious one, carrying with it the unburied remnants of the horror you had both endured just a few hours ago.

"Just for you being alive," he said. Your brows furrowed slightly when you heard that. It wasn't what you expected. "For a while... when you were still inside, and your mic was destroyed..." With a sigh, he tilted his head back, holding back from returning to that moment. It couldn't have been easy for him, referring to exactly the moment that caused him pain. "We heard a gunshot. Everyone thought it was you. That's why... that's why I just wanted to thank you for that."

Given that you had absolutely no control over it, those were the strangest thanks anyone had ever given you. But still, they squeezed your heart like no others ever had.

You leaned in to place a kiss on his cheek.

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simpjaes · 11 months ago

Text

take the back-seat. (p.js & s.jy)

What’s the point in being a third wheel if Jake can’t watch anyway? or the one where jay lets jake watch him get his dick wet.

minors do not interact, otherwise― pls reblog my works

PARING ― jay x afab reader | jake sim x afab reader

WC ― 8.5k

TAGS ― exhibitionist jay, voyeur jake, dangerous driving (do not do this), jealousy, mentions of cleaning up clumped cum in a gas station bathroom lmao

A/N ― what’s that? you’ve read this before??? yeah that’s bc i wrote it on my other blog and now i want to shamelessly read it as jay and jake thanks!!!! (i am the original author: ncteez, this work is not stolen)

– read part two here!

smut tags under cut::

SMUT TAGS ― THICK DICK JAY, daddy long dick jake, exhibitionism, voyeurism car sex, dangerous driving, unprotected sex, voyeurism, jerking off lmao, jake being embarrassed and Jay enjoying it, jealous jay, jealous jake

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Jake was used to it at this point, walking in to see you being, quite literally, fucked senseless by his best friend. Each time he had managed to barge into the room when the two of you were going at it, he was lucky to slip away unnoticed and embarrassed for the both of you. He never brought it up, never really thought about it after the embarrassment died down, and never wondered when it would happen again.

Still, though, it kept happening.

What Jake didn’t know is that it was intentional. Both you and Jay were aware each time he would walk into a room, stop in shock, and then shuffle away. It was something Jay enjoyed much more than you did at first but, you’ve grown to love it as well, maybe even more than your boyfriend does.

Jay liked to be almost caught on some days, other days he wanted to be caught. What he wants most of all though? That’s to be watched. To have someone turned on by what he can do to you, to have them feel jealous of him or even stare in awe at how good he is when he fucks you.

When Jake moved in, Jay hadn’t really thought about letting him watch or even catch the action in the process. Jay’s big thing was doing it at parties or clubs when everyone was too drunk to care if they were watching or not. However, the first time Jake saw them was a genuine accident on both sides.

It happened shortly after Jake moved in with the two of you (for financial purposes of course.) Neither of you had issues with having a roommate, considering the spare room and all. It was a small place but it easily managed the three of you.

Jay was so in his head that day when he had you against the kitchen counter, breakfast plans long forgotten when he noticed that your ass looked particularly good in the lighting. He was so in his head that, well, he might have forgotten that Jake could walk in at any moment.

A clatter of bowls full of ingredients hit the floor as soon as Jay made eye contact with his best friend coming through the doorway, your leg was wrapped around his waist as he was attempting a deep thrust into you. Unfortunately, instead of that deep thrust, he panicked and pulled out of you so quickly that you lost balance and sent the ingredients flying straight to spoilage. Jake just looked at him, then at you, and then at Jay’s very exposed cock that still managed to stay hard under the circumstances before he turned on his heel and paced back to his room.

That was the first and only time it was an accident on Jay’s part. Sure, he was into that kind of thing before Jake moved in, but it didn’t even cross his mind to include Jake in the fun until that day, at least.

That night, Jay sat you down in the silence of your shared room and discussed that he will most definitely be fucking you in all areas of the apartment regardless of whether Jake was there or not and that he wouldn’t mind in the slightest if he wanted to watch.

You reluctantly agreed in the silence of your bedroom, only after mentioning that you didn’t want to make Jake feel weird about it, that you didn’t want him to act differently around the two of you. But Jay didn’t relent, assuring you that it would be fine.

It was fine for the most part, even you started to get a kick out of it from time to time when you pretended to not see Jake stare for a little longer on some days before leaving the room.

Jake just shakes it off each time though. Because of course, it’s hot. Multiple times a week it’s like he’s walking straight into a porn film before having to excuse himself, and it gets really frustrating sometimes, considering he isn’t the one getting laid. All he gets are glimpses of the two of you, the sounds he hears through the walls, and the utter joy the two of you seem to have despite his presence.

He’s learned to accept that neither of you seems to care what he sees, so he decides he won’t either.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

It’s a warm day in July. All three of you are packing bags and blankets into the back of Jake’s car for the trip ahead, and all three of you are entirely too thankful to whatever god allowed your schedules to line up in order to have a five-day weekend at the beach. It’s a long drive, 12 to 13 hours at least, but Jake and Jay agreed to drive in shifts so that makes it a lot more bearable.

“Did we get everything?” Jay asks as he throws himself into the driver's seat of the car and pats the passenger seat as if it were an honor to be invited to ride shotgun by him.

You nod to him, admiring his slender fingers against the steering wheel and realizing it has been a long while since he had driven you anywhere. In fact, the two of you mostly walked or got an uber for your outings simply because traffic is a nightmare in this city.

“Wait!” Jake shouts, throwing himself out of the open back door of the car. “I forgot my phone charger!” He exclaims as he runs back to the apartment building door.

And then it’s silent.

“He’s a really good actor.” Jay laughs, looking over at you and then steering his attention to the console buttons so that he can connect your phone for aux privileges. “A true sport, that guy.” He shakes his head this time, flicking his eyes up at you.

It’s pretty normal, actually, for Jay to find reasons to talk about it. Still, you don’t think you’ve ever gotten used to the way he looks at you when he’s clearly thinking of something mischievous, but you always did love what his plans lead to—so you nod at him with a polite smile.

“What’re you getting at?” You say, reaching over to grab his hand in yours. “Whatever it is, I’m in.”

He smirks at you, quickly giving you a kiss on the lips before pulling back to adjust the mirror in front of him, mostly for the purpose of Jake getting a good view later. Jake is a bit shorter than him, so he adjusts the mirror in a way that it won't be dangerous when he starts his driving shift. Plus, this mirror is only half of the fun. Just wait until Jake gets to the beach rental.

At this point, Jake is already rushing back out of the door with his charger in hand, smiling at the two of you and mouthing a small ‘sorry’ before placing himself in the back seat. He is quick to make himself comfortable, leaving himself unbuckled as he lays his legs across the seat and sighs out.

“Any song requests?” You peek back at him when Jay reverses the car and carefully listens to the GPS that cuts through the speakers.

“Oh, yeah actually!” Jake claps with another one of his well-loved fond smiles.

From that point forward, the three of you take turns picking songs to listen to. The GPS would sometimes interrupt the best part of a song to alert Jay on where he needs to drive, but honestly, it was going quite well.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Hours go by when Jay finally pulls into a gas station for a break, the road trip vibes died about two hours after you left the house. Songs were being sung less, the windows were being rolled up so that the air conditioning could take over, and Jake had even fallen asleep with the warm sun hitting his face against the window.

He was pulled out of his sleep when Jay opened the back door so that the man could quite literally fall out of it. Which is funny, you admit when you head over to slap Jay on the back of the head for it.

“Jake, it’s your turn to drive,” Jay says, already opening the gas tank and preparing to fill it up for him. “If you need a bathroom, I suggest you go now.”

Jake nods his head and then rubs his eyes so that they can adjust to the bright lights of the gas station. The sun is going down and now he realizes why Jay preferred to drive during the daytime hours. It’s definitely going to be a rough next six hours but, he thinks the sandy beaches and colorful shaved ice will be worth it all in the end.

He lets out a long and loud yawn before heading inside the gas station to relieve himself and find a couple of snacks. By the time he got to the snack aisle, he crowds up beside you and asks for help in debating on if he wanted salty or sweet.

“You can get both, y’know.” You say, looking up at him with your own handful of snacks for both you and your very hungry boyfriend.

Jake looks down at you with sleepy eyes and then moves his gaze to the crinkled bags of candies and chips.

“Oh! Sick!” He yells, suddenly very awake. “They got frosted animal crackers! I haven’t had these since I was a kid!”

You chuckle in endearment at him, nodding at his selection.

“Don’t forget to grab something to drink to wash all of that sugar down.” You clap with him because his joy always seems to seep into your own mood. Still, you were ready to free your hands up from these snacks so the small joyous moment doesn’t last for too long.

You slink away from him with ease, leaving him to debate on if he wants one packet or two packets of frosted animal crackers as you make your way to the cash register.

After purchasing your snacks you’re quick to head back to the car where Jay raises a brow at you when you attempt to get back into the passenger seat.

“And just where do you think you’re going?” He asks, flicking his head to the back seat as if to tell you he wants shotgun. You shrug in response, piling into the back with ease and without question, feeling more comfortable with the space it has to offer anyway.

But, when Jay finishes gassing up the car, he doesn’t get into the passenger’s seat. He, instead, scoots into the seat next to you and leans forward between the two front seats in order to adjust the mirror a little bit more.

“Fuck yeah.” He says with a snide voice, peeking over at you as he leans back to get himself comfortable. You look at him with curiosity, wondering why the fuck he keeps messing with the mirror.

“What are you scheming? For real this time, tell me.”

Jay darts his eyes to the window of the gas station to look for Jake, and thankfully he’s still at the cash register paying for his stuff—probably because the dude likes to make conversation and refuses to read the signals of people just wanting to do their job and not hear about what his plans are for this trip. Then he leans in close to you, placing one hand on your thigh and the other against the nape of your neck.

If anyone else were looking at the two of you, it would look as if he’s about to make out with you—which would be fine, but he isn’t.

“Jake’s not gonna be able to run away this time.” Jay whispers as if the man inside the gas station can hear him. You furrow your brows a bit at his words before smiling with the same evil grin he gives to you.

“And did you not think to ask me if I even wanted to?” You shrug him off, pressing him away from you and turning to face the window, still smiling.

You’re definitely in on it but this isn’t exactly the safest way to do this. Still, your boyfriend has always been an adventurous one. Plus, you’re still gonna be a brat about it. Jay likes when you’re being difficult, and for the most part, knows you’d genuinely stop him if it were something you didn’t want to partake in.

“Of course you want to, I see the way you watch him when he sees us—” Jay gripes, glaring at you. “He can’t have you, but he can watch.”

You shrug at him again, acting as if you could care much less about this plan of his, but he can see that glint in your eye and the smile on your face.

“This is why I love you.” He says in a simple voice at the obvious confirmation on your face, and then he looks back to see that Jake is making his way back to the car.

“Don’t you think we should ask him first though? What if he doesn’t want to watch?” You quickly let out, knowing you’re down for the plan but still wanting Jake to be comfortable.

Jay is quick to shake his head at you. He knows his best friend is a fucking pervert.

“Relax, he pops a boner every time he sees us.”

You nod because he definitely does.

“If he says to stop, we can stop, okay?” Jay goes to reassure you again, but the conversation is cut short by Jake parking himself into the driver’s seat with a questionable look towards the two of you.

“No one is going to sit up front with me?”

Honestly, the way he says it seems so sad that you almost wanna say fuck the plan just to keep him company.

“I want to sit with my girlfriend since I haven’t gotten to in the past six hours?” Jay argues, kicking the back of Jake’s seat playfully.

“Bullshit! You were sitting up here with her the whole time! Who is gonna sit up here and keep me awake?!”

Jay is very well aware that Jake will definitely be able to stay awake. No question about it.

“I want to look at my girlfriend since I haven’t been able to take my eyes off the road for the past six hours. Stop complaining.”

Jake looks at Jay through the mirror, aware that it’s been positioned differently. Internally, he thanks his friend for not only adjusting the mirror for him, but the seat too. Less work on his part, honestly.

“You guys are the worst.” He complains, starting up the car and connecting his own phone to the system in order to continue the navigation and music on his own accord.

Then it’s silent. Jake starts to gently hum songs to himself as he gets into the groove of driving and you are in the back, with your boyfriend close by silently talking about god knows what. Jake feels comfortable despite the fact that he knew he would be the third wheel during this entire trip. Still, he really did think one of you would sit up front to keep him company.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Several hours later, Jake begins to feel sleepy again just as Jay wakes up from his own nap. You managed to stay awake the entire time because honestly, it wasn’t exactly easy to fall asleep with Jake up there grabbing into his loud-ass bag of animal crackers.

You just sat there in silence with your boyfriend using your legs as a pillow as he made his attempts at a comfortable nap, and you could tell he did manage that because of the way he fell asleep with his mouth open. You loved seeing him like this though, comfortable and warm against you. It’s really the only time it’s ever quiet when the two of you are together anyway, so you find the silence in this aspect quite enjoyable.

Typically, Jay is a quiet person. Not when he’s with you though, and certainly not when he’s with Jake.

Around you and Jake, he can typically be found forcing an argument about some bullshit he’s decided to be passionate about on that particular day, or perhaps talking shit about other people that, more than likely, didn’t mean to step on his toes. Other times, he’s dirty talking to you with such a booming and confident voice that Jake has no choice but to hear it through the walls.

Jay isn’t a quiet person ever when he’s within his own friend group, save for when he is asleep and that’s why, when he peeks an eye open and stretches in the cramped space against you, you become hyper-aware of the plan the two of you spoke about earlier.

You’ve been thinking about it the whole time since Jake started driving actually, realizing that the mirror is positioned in a way that would give him a perfect view of the backseat and the street behind him. All he has to do is adjust his eyes to where he wants the priority to be.

Surely, with Jay awake now, the priorities will change.

It’s dark now, rarely passing by another car every ten to twenty minutes you can guess. The music is still silently playing and the GPS is cutting in less and less with the long stretches of highways it has navigated the three of you to.

The car is smooth, there are no bumps in the road, no clouds in the sky to keep the moonlight from coming in, and no cars to distract Jake from what’s surely going to happen next.

And you were right. You knew you would be.

“Baby,” Jay lifts up and whispers in your ear, quiet enough to where Jake can’t hear him. “He looks a little tired—”

You look over at Jay with warm cheeks, already feeling the excitement and anticipation of what’s to come. He’s always so ready after a nap if you’re being honest.

“He does, doesn’t he?” You confirm to him, a little louder this time. Jake doesn’t falter or look back at the two of you through your hushed conversation though. Instead, he turns his music up a little more so that the two of you can discuss whatever it is you’re whispering about without him intruding.

“Should we wake him up a little bit?” Jay chuckles out through another whisper, already glancing down at your thighs. They’re bare in the loose pajama shorts you chose to wear for the car ride.

“Yeah?” He asks again, this time reaching over and hooking two fingers into the waistband of your shorts.

All you do is nod at him because any time he wants it, your body immediately reacts in the way it should. It’s almost like he’s managed to train your body to warm itself up the moment he even suggests sex.

Jay is very quick to take that nod as the green light to get to work. He palms himself gently with one hand to work himself up and uses the other hand to pull you against him. He makes it obvious that it’s a show when he positions both of you in the middle of the back seat, but doesn’t care if it looks dumb considering Jake likely won't be paying attention to where you’re sitting but, more worried about what it is you’re doing.

He palms at himself until his cock is restrained against his sweatpants, eyes concentrated on you where his fingers trace back and forth under your waist band. It really doesn’t take much for either of you, the small touch alone always gets you to start squeezing your thighs together.

“Yeah” He raises a brow at you, wanting that last little confirmation from you and glancing down at his bulge beneath his pants.

You look back at him with an eager and small smile, replacing his hand with yours.

“Yeah.”

“I’m ready when you are, baby—” He whispers out to you this time, more gently, and more for you than for Jake to eventually notice. Feeling the way your hands softly prod and press against his bulge with a sense of…nervousness.

You look at him, and then down at his bulge—for some reason, it looks more delicious in a moving car being illuminated by moonlight than it does in your apartment. Jake is barely in your thoughts now when you reach a hand over to pull it out, stroking it little by little until you can hear him gasp quietly to himself at the friction.

You jerk him off for a few minutes before he reaches over to touch you, only because he knows that you get wetter after you’ve been touching him for a while without any friction of your own—and he’s definitely right about that.

Side by side, your hand is slowly picking up the pace, circling around his length and twisting your wrist at the head. Only then does he let his hand slide into your shorts, straight down to where you, by now, actually need his fingers.

He can feel the slick almost instantly when he reaches your folds and firmly presses his palm against your clit. There’s somewhat of a groan that’s pulled out of his throat at that. The act alone is enough to get him hot and bothered, but knowing you’re already so fucking wet only amplifies the way his cock twitches in your hand.

Jake doesn’t notice a thing until he hears you breathe out loudly, mostly because Jay didn’t quite enjoy the fact that he hasn’t noticed yet. That sound you just made was solely to get Jake to look, and Jay pulled it out of you by plunging two fingers into you without warning, pressing his palm tight against your clit without warning.

It sends shivers down your spine, momentarily forgetting the small space you’re restricted by when you kick your legs out only to be met with the resistance of the back of the seats. Jay loves it. The way you spread your legs out at the intrusion, squeezing your eyes shut, clenching said fingers.

He picks up the pace, feeling a dribble of his pre-cum spill against your stilled hand on his cock. And then? He glances up into the mirror to note that, yes, Jake is absolutely fucking watching. His sleepy eyes adjusting to the way your hand is wrapped around a cock a bit too thick to let you close your hand around it entirely, and, well, those spread legs, of course.

And then? Jake shifts his eyes away the second he notes Jay glancing up.

Oh. So that’s how it’s gonna be, huh? Jay internally hates the fact that the two of you can be so absolutely shameless like he isn’t even here. That he can and fucking will just have a go at you right in front of him like this when he has nowhere to run, yet, Jake still pretends it’s not happening, even with his eyes practically boring holes into the two of you.

Jake turns his music up more now, drowning out the small gasps the two of you are letting out and trying to keep his focus on the road. He can just pretend this isn’t happening, after all, it’s really not his place to like, watch what’s happening.

No matter how much he wants to.

And when Jay hears the music turn up, he knows that Jake still hasn’t caught on and smirks over at you, plunging a third finger in and watching you gasp a little louder this time. He does it again, with more force, and then again, and again, until you’re almost whining and rolling your hips forward against his fingers so you can receive more pressure. So you, in your own little world, can force his fingers to reach ever deeper inside of you.

Then, it stops. Your head spins at the emptiness within you when you snap your head to your boyfriend.

There’s a low chuckle from Jay’s throat when he pulls his fingers out of you and swipes your hand away from his cock—he leans forward quickly and kisses you. You already feel overheated in this small cramped space, but feeling Jay’s lips against yours right now only makes it feel hotter, especially when he licks against your tongue in a way that shows you how much he wants you.

You kiss back with the same energy and he knows exactly what it means, just like you. The two of you know exactly what each other’s cues are. When the green lights go and the red lights flash—you’re both entirely in tune every fucking time.

Jay is quick with his hands, keeping his lips connected with yours when he pulls at you, trying to drag you onto his lap where his cock stands tall and glistening from the precum. You squeak out a small sound at him, turning your back to the front seat and easily throwing your leg over Jay to sit exactly where he wants you.

“Should we let him see more?” He leans in to look at you, but honestly can’t really contain himself from doing it anyway.

This is the first time he has ever done this sort of thing with you in a car, and it’s the first time Jake has nowhere to run so that he can act like he doesn’t like watching. Jake should be thanking him, honestly. There are no morals at this moment and Jay thinks it may be the hottest thing he’s ever done.

“I don’t think I can wait—” Jay chokes out now, answering himself when he feels you lean down to kiss against his neck with a humming sound coming from your throat. He’s already grinding up against you and releasing his own groans at this point, unable to ignore the fact that he needs to be inside of you right now, simply because this is his fantasy.

He quickly hooks his fingers into the crotch of your loose shorts, pulling both the shorts and panties to the side with ease before pressing up, you match his actions and sink down, feeling his length stretch you open inch by inch. The girth of his cock is always a struggle to fit at such a quick pace, still, he fills you to the brim when you struggle to sit further down. Thrusting up while simultaneously pressing you down by the hips.

It feels more desperate this time. Usually, the touching can last for upwards of an hour —but your boyfriend is looking so desperate and so good right now that you can’t really bare to resist him or his harsh thrust into you. Mostly because he always manages to make you feel just as fucked up as he does in any given situation. Enough to forget where you are. Enough to forget anyone is watching at all.

And as Jay feels your cunt squeeze around him, slowly beginning to spill your own wet onto his balls, he glances up into the mirror again—lips slack as he gasps out for you, a small and wordless praise at how tight you are, and then he smirks because there is Jake’s eyes, looking directly back at him, struggling now to keep his gaze where it belongs: on the road.

Right then and there, Jay makes a point to thrust into you for the first time with full force just so Jake knows that he’s aware that he’s watching, and he wants him to watch. For Jake, one could even say.

When he does it, you immediately gasp out at his cock tearing you open with that one tight thrust. You’ve barely managed to adjust fully, but goddamn is he deeper than usual at this angle. You can feel his length pulse inside of you which was enough already to have you panting against him, but now? As he slowly thrusts in and out, holding you up by your hips?

“God, Jay.” You groan, dropping your head to his shoulder as you see stars just from the lack of adjusting.

At those words, he’s only inclined to fuck a bit faster, sending a tingle of pain and pleasure straight through you as your jaw falls slack against him.

Jay hold your hips, helping you stay slightly elevated above him so that he can drive his cock into you, again and again, stretching you out and dragging against your walls at such a quick pace you literally can barely take in a breath—and when he moves a hand up to pull up to his lips by the back of the neck, his eyes are dark when you finally look at him.

He lips are still parted, he is out of breath and his eyes are hooded, still fucking up and into you with so much stamina. Too much stamina, actually, after his six hour driving shift.

“He’s watching,” He whispers against your lips, catching them just for a moment in a heated kiss before he continues. “Show him how much you love me.”

That alone causes you to moan out, the very idea of Jake watching hitting you directly in your stomach more than it ever did before, back when he was so quick to leave the room.

“Jay—I wanna see,” You stammer out in a small hiccup as he continues to practically fuck himself as hard as he can into you.

He only smirks with a breath at your request, gripping your hips even tighter before pressing you down, forcing his leaking cock into you ever deeper. He intentionally flexes it inside of you, smiling at the wince on your face at that constant stretch he always gives to you.

“You wanna see Jake watch you get fucked?” He asks in a smug and breathy voice, leaning to lick a stripe against your neck. “You’re so dirty—” He adds in a half-moan, releasing your hips and pulling back to look at you again when you immediately lift on your knees for relief.

“Turn around then.”

You do, carefully pulling him out of you with a wince of relief and shuffling your way around to sink back down on him again, this time with your back to his chest. Mostly so you can make direct eye contact with Jake this time, now that you know he’s watching.

You’re a little nervous but your thoughts are spinning so quickly that you don’t really care about any of that right now. If things are awkward after the car ride, it’ll be because Jake won't admit to liking it.

Which he clearly does, when you see his eyes flicking from the road back to the mirror with furrowed brows. You make a point to keep your eyes on him when you slide back down on Jay’s cock, leaning yourself against his chest and resting the back of your head on his shoulder.

This time, Jay keeps his hands at your thighs, one spreading your legs and the other hooking your shorts and panties to the side—holding them in place so that Jake could get a full view of his cock stuffing you entirely.

He can imagine how painful the stretch must look. Damn, your pussy always does grip when he’s burying himself into you. He’s almost jealous of the view.

That’s when you physically see Jake shiver as he darts his eyes down to what you presume to be the very spot Jay is displaying for him right now but, your attention is very quickly pulled away when Jay thrusts up, placing his chin on your shoulder and gripping your thigh even tighter to keep your legs open.

“Look at him—” Jay demands in a whisper when he bucks into you again, turning his head only slightly to whisper this time. “He’s loving this.”

And he is, as unfortunate as it is.

Jake is unable to drown out the sound of your moans with his music, he doesn’t even want to drown them out at this point. He could barely pull his attention from the mirror at first, but now? He definitely can’t now. Jake is keeping his eyes on the road only to glance back up and see a full view of your face staring back at him, your pussy pulsing around his own best’s friend’s cock—It’s a bit much, he will admit but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s harder than he thinks he’s ever been when watching the two of you.

Mostly because, this doesn’t feel accidental now. With the way you’re either moaning and rolling your eyes back before looking dead at his eyes in the mirror, or you’re reaching down to spread your pussy out even more for him to see. Wiggling and wincing at the way Jay’s cock forever stretches you past your own limit.

Jake feels like he’s going fucking insane watching this, unable to bring himself to outwardly groan at the image just yet.

Unfortunately, that happens anyway. Against his will, even. His throat forces a groan out of him when he notices your blown pupils staring back at him as you gently bounce behind him. He can fucking hear how wet you are as you bounce, he can hear the desperate breaths and the pornographic moans—it’s taking everything in him not to pull this car over right now and take Jay’s place.

But he can’t. You’re not his to share. And while he can’t pull over to take over—he can, at the very least, attempt to release his own tension.

He is trying to be sly when he moves one hand from the steering wheel down to his own pining and jealous cock, palming himself through the soft fabric. He moans at the sensation without intention at the same time you do. Forcing his eyes to darken as you stare at him in the mirror.

You’re maintaining as much eye contact with him as you can, but it’s becoming difficult each time Jay whispers small praises in your ear.

“You must look so good from his angle, I’m so fucking jealous—” Jay grunts out against you, now holding you down again and taking over by thrusting into you with powerful, tight thrusts. “Are you spreading it out for him?”

You nod against Jay, finally allowing yourself to throw your head back against his shoulder again, this time swirling your own hips against him and using your fingers to spread your lips out impossibly wide for Jake.

Jay hums out at that, relaxing his body beneath you so that you could work your magic on him for his best friend. He holds onto your hips for a moment before glancing up again at the mirror.

He can see that Jake is driving one-handed and smirks to himself about that.

“Is he getting off right now?” Jay chuckles quietly as he moves your hair from the side of his face and uses the other hand to grip your chin and forces your eyes back to the mirror to witness what he’s witnessing himself.

You just moan at the sight, not only noticing that Jake is clearly still watching, but he’s moving too, his shoulder moving in a very obvious way in which would tell practically anyone that he’s fucking his fist as best he can right now.

“Talk to him.” Jay demands this time, wincing at the way immediately you pull yourself up and prop yourself on the center console, head peeking far enough past the seats to see exactly what Jake is doing and startling him enough that he swerves the car only a little bit in panic.

Jay stays leaned back in his seat, staring down at your ass and the way you bounce, forcing his cock in and out at such a beautiful pace at this point, no more pain in regards to his thickness. Just full on stretched pussy gripping him with each slide.

God, the view is always so fucking good.

You’re easily riding him now, perched up so that you can dirty talk his best friend just to get a rise out of him, Jay is loving it as he reaches a hand forward to spread your pussy out around his cock before pressing down on your back so that you sit against him harder.

You moan out next to Jake, attempting to keep your composure when you look down at his length pressing heavily against his pants. “Are you watching us?” You ask, wetting your bottom lip with your tongue.

Jake can see your body moving even though he can only see your face in his peripheral vision, unable to face you completely—it’s kind of killing him that you’re just talking to him while getting fucked. He’s embarrassed, but what the fuck else is he supposed to do?!

“It’s okay, Jakey—” You coo out, the pet name coming out like honey against your tongue. “We want you to watch.” You urge him on, seeing him immediately move his hand back to his cock.

You stare down at it, wondering how big it is and how good he is with his hands, but you know your boyfriend probably wouldn’t appreciate that much.

So, you whisper very quietly, leaning a bit more towards Jake as you watch his fingers grip his cock tighter than they were gripping the steering wheel earlier. “Why don’t you pull it out?”

Jay heard it, and honestly, he would normally be jealous because he will not share you with anyone under any circumstance, but the fact that he wants his own best friend to watch kind of calls for at least letting him cum right? By his own hand though, no more, no less.

You feel Jay thrust a little harder into you this time, pushing and holding you down by your hips. Knowing he’s kind of become the third wheel himself, despite actively fucking into you.

He fits himself into you with a force that tells you not to push it with Jake any further though, and you listen to his body language the same way you would with his words.

“Jay is okay with it, but you can only watch—okay?”

Your sweet voice hits Jake's ears, slightly moaning with each word. He knows you’re feeling good right now and he can’t contain it anymore. He can no longer pretend like he doesn’t think about watching the two of you like he doesn’t go and rub one out in his room each time he sees it.

That’s when he finally uses one hand to pull his sweats down with one tug, eyes fixated on the road as he listens to you. He knows you’re watching him, and doesn’t know what else to think about aside from the fact that his cock is springing out and leaking heavily against his t-shirt. Showing you how badly he fucking wants it.

“Oh—” You gasp, and Jake isn’t sure if it’s for him or for Jay.

You would never admit that it’s because of how much bigger he is in length compared to Jay, and how perfectly it fits into his hand, with those long and pretty fingers.

Jay is becoming increasingly jealous though, especially with the way you begin to bounce against his cock as if Jake is doing something that really gets to you, but goddamn it feels so good that he can’t bear to stop you. Hoping to god that Jake doesn’t manage to steal his girl from him while he’s literally balls deep.

He throws his head back this time and just lets you fuck yourself on him as you talk to Jake. You’re unable to stop yourself from riding Jay in a way that seems entirely too out of character for you. But when you look back, your boyfriend seems to really be enjoying himself.

You turn your attention back to the front, seeing now that Jake is moving his hand much quicker, his lower lip caught between his teeth as he desperately attempts to drive the speed limit at the very least.

“I bet you wish it was you, don’t you?” You urge him on, watching his reaction each time you speak to him. “Bet you wish you could feel how wet I am, Jakey, right?”

Jake can’t even contain his nod, moving his fist up his length at a quicker pace than before.

“Show me how you’d d—” You’re cut off with a moan when Jay reaches forward and grips your hips again, taking over for you and aggressively fucking into you at a pace that shows you that he’s either pissed or about to cum.

“Show me how you’d do it, ” You repeat through the thumping of the thick cock inside of you, attempting to keep a level voice as Jay aggressively spreads and grips your ass, grunting through each thrust.

Jake finally turns to look at you for a moment, a very short moment, and then intentionally fucks up into his hand once, twice, and then a third time before shooting his eyes back to the road in a panted groan.

He wants to show you just how hard he would fuck you right now if he were given the chance.

The way he moans throws you for a loop, much deeper sounding than your own boyfriend’s but the sound of it hits your core and spreads heat throughout your body.

You instantly reach down with one hand to circle your clit, clenching around Jay as he attempts to pull you back to him—but you stay in place, eyes trained on Jake’s cock being pumped relentlessly. You know he’s showing you the way he would fuck you, and goddamn he would probably be so good at it.

“Shit—” Jay chokes out. “Baby—” He warns this time.

You’re not sure if your boyfriend is telling you to pull off to prevent orgasm, or simply warning you that he’s absolutely about to fucking obliterate your cunt as best he can, all for Jake to watch.

Jay can tell you’re rubbing your clit, at least, but fuck you’re so goddamn wet. His cock slides in and out of you so much easier compared to some days and it feels so good to him. Warm and wet walls hugging him, pleading for his cock to keep going, and going, and fucking going.

He feels so good inside of you right now, more than usual, in this tiny space that the car offers. With your pretty moans, and maybe even Jake’s moans on top of it all. It’s a bit overwhelming, Jay can admit, as he suddenly, and desperately wants all three of you to cum with him.

Thankfully for Jay, you also desperately want to see Jake cum, and you hate to say that it’s kind of Jay’s fault for prompting all of this. Including the fact that you’re only pressed between these fucking seats watching him work himself because your boyfriend told you to talk him through it.

“Are you going to make me cum?” You ask out to Jake suddenly, sighing between your words and wondering why the fuck you just said that but, it sets off a fire in the man with one hand on the wheel and the other gripping his cock.

It gives him the illusion that he is fucking you, and that he will make you cum.

“Come on, Jakey, Jay’s close too.“’

And just like that Jake is squeezing himself so tightly, dragging his hand only once up his length before he’s nearly slamming his foot on the breaks. He lets his foot off of the gas instead, thankful that there is not a single car on this street when he cums. Visibly shaking and attempting to hold in his moans as he hears you directly next to him being fucked senseless.

“Oh my god–” Jake half-moans, unable to keep his eyes from rolling back as he stutters his body through the pulses of cum shooting out of him.

You praise him for it, wanting nothing more than to reach over and kiss him for looking so fucking erotic doing what he just did, but you opt to just compliment him.

The image of Jake breathing his way through his orgasm, keeping the three of you safe in this car throughout all of it, and obviously wanting to fuck you has you nearing your own climax as Jay’s hips stutter against you.

Your fingers against your clit grow increasingly aggressive as you finally allow yourself to fall back against Jay, taking over for his tired hips as you attempt to work him up to his orgasm.

Honestly, you feel like the sexiest person alive right now, two men unable to contain themselves over you—it feels so good.

And when Jay growls against you with an audible ‘never talk to him like that again’, you release, surprisingly, before Jay does. Cumming around his thick cock and gripping against the seats in front of you as your ears ring and your eyes begin to see colors.

Something about your boyfriend being jealous is just entirely too hot, you might just have to absolutely talk to Jake like that again. Only so you can feel the way he grips you possessively and mumbles strings of both praise and arguments against you when he finally hits his own orgasm.

Words like “what the fuck was he doing up there for you to get so wet, huh?” and “don’t ever use that voice on him again–”

When it’s all said and done, the car is a mess and Jake is immediately taking the next exit to the closest gas station. Partially so he can hide in the bathroom and cry before shamefully cleaning his juices off of the damn windshield (this is an exaggeration), but mostly so you could get cleaned up.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Jake is standing in the bathroom staring at himself, opting to give up on cleaning the cum off of his shirt because this gas station appears to have the hottest water known to man and it only clumped up against the fabric.

He’s sighing to himself, realizing how much of an absolute freak he must seem to you and Jay when, speak of the fucking devil, the man himself walks into the bathroom and crosses his arms at Jake.

“Yknow—” Jay starts with a glare. “I could have sworn for a full ten minutes you were going to take my girlfriend away from me.”

Jake’s eyes widen in embarrassment, because in all honestly, he would have fucking tried if you’d have let him.

“It’s not like that.” Jake stutters, backing away from the mirror and forgetting that Jay is actually right behind him, so he ends up bumping into him. He very quickly twists around and properly backs away from him this time.

“Oh my god, relax.” Jay steps forwards and claps him on the shoulder. “I was the one who suggested we even do this, just like—watch what you’re doing.”

Jake nods, looking down.

“What do you mean?” Jake questions, still looking at the floor.

“What? You thought we could do all of this and expect you not to stay the next time you walk in on us?”

Jake blushes, fixing his eyes on the soiled spot of his shirt.

“I’m embarrassed—I didn’t know what I was supposed to do so I just, did what she suggested?”

“That’s good.” Jay pats him on the shoulder again and forces him to look at him. “Jake, if you don’t touch her, you can do whatever you want with your cock—just know that I don’t share.”

Something inside of Jake both shatters and swells up. Yeah, part of him wondered if all of this would lead to a beach vacation threesome, but it doesn’t appear that way. Nevertheless, Jay is still offering up a pretty sweet deal.

“Is she okay with that?” Jake asks.

“More than okay. I couldn’t tell if she came for me or for you, which pisses me off, not gonna lie.” Jay pulls away from Jake and pulls his length out casually, dabbing it with a napkin before attempting to wet the paper towel.

“Fuck! Why is the water so hot!?” He exclaims, jumping back and looking over at Jake.

“This is too weird—” Jake says to himself with heated cheeks, and then turns his back to Jay. “I’m sorry if I crossed a line, it won't happen again, honestly,”

Jay just shrugs, allowing his paper towel to cool down like an actual smart person before dabbing away the dried cum. It’s not like he didn’t rent out a single-roomed beach house in order to prompt Jake to watch during this vacation.

“She’s the one in trouble for that one. But we already talked. So we’re cool, just letting you know the boundaries, that’s all.”

Jay had specifically asked you not to dirty talk Jake the way you did or to call him by any sort of nickname. But you had urged that it was honestly the hottest thing Jay has ever done for you, though it was supposed to be for Jake.

He guessed you might be more into the whole being watched thing than he is, and that’s fair considering you never so much as tried anything kinky before meeting him. The two of you compromised. You’re only allowed to praise and talk to Jake that way if Jay is allowed to absolutely humiliate him at the same time. They’re not even sure if Jake is into that sort of thing, but you’d both stop the moment he felt uncomfortable.

“Okay, so… “ Jake says, waiting for Jay to finish his cleanup. “Is this gonna be a normal thing then?”

“Maybe, if you keep wanting to catch us, that is.”

“I swear, I never did that intentionally!” Jake defends himself but finally looks over at Jay who has his pants pulled up now.

“Oh, I know. It was also my idea to have you catch us all the time. You definitely liked watching though.” Jay winks at Jake knowingly, but before he could even attempt to respond there’s a toilet flushing and a burly man walking out of the furthest stall in the back.

Both men stare at each other, too stunned to move based on the fact that this man had been sitting on the toilet listening to the entire conversation and hearing them clean cum off of themselves. Honestly. If there was a hole nearby, Jake would probably bury himself in it (no pun intended).

“Gentlemen.” The burly man says with a solemn tone, and all Jake can do is turn around and walk the fuck out of there as quickly as he can.

“Uh—” Jay says to the man, pointing behind him with his thumb and an awkward smile before turning on his heel and pacing out directly after Jake.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

– read part two here!

#enhypen smut #sim jaeyun smut #park jongseong smut #jake smut #jay smut #enha smut

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alchemistc · 4 months ago

Text

"Evan's not here," Tommy says, and Eddie scowls at him as he pushes past Tommy, already aiming for the kitchen as he hitches the six pack he'd brought with him up under his armpit. It'd been a - a thing. A 'my best friend and my new friend are too busy sucking face to spend every spare moment distracting me from my problems' thing, a thing where Eddie sort of finally understood exactly why Buck had hip checked him on the basketball court months ago. He wants his best friend back. He wants the ease of his friendship with Tommy back.

Which is - Christ, he's selfish, is the thing. A month without Chris there to keep him occupied and Eddie has had some startling realizations about himself. ("You're not selfish, Eddie, you're the most selfless person I know." from Buck and "So fix it," from Tommy, a rare night out with the both of them because he'd headed date night off at the pass by asking Tommy to go out for drinks before he and Buck could make plans without him).

"My world doesn't revolve around Buck," Eddie tells him, and screws the cap off a beer to hand it to Tommy. Tommy's doing that judgmental face he gets when he wants to say something bitchy but hasn't put the words in the right order yet. And - Eddie's not lying. Buck is a fixed point, an ever present life-line, but he's not the fucking sun.

Neither is Chris, apparently, which is news to Eddie and he's - spiralling, still. Quietly, calmly, and he's only punched one hole in the wall on a bad night.

"You ever go to Frank?" Eddie asks, like Frank is the only therapist in the greater LA area, and Tommy rolls his eyes, disappears long enough for the muted sound of the television to go quiet.

When he comes back Eddie's reading the label on his beer bottle

"Apparently I resent you," Eddie says, and Tommy chuffs a laugh.

"Apparently?"

"No, I -." The words had been just as hard two hours ago. This little trip was his own design, he'd been told specifically to sit in it for a while but Christ, an hour a week isn't enough time to talk through his issues and it's not like he can tell Buck he resents him for finding something he's happy and stable and solid in. So. Tommy it is. "You and Buck are good together. I'm happy for you both. I am."

Tommy settles against a countertop with his hip digging into the Formica. His kitchen has gained a dutch oven that looks suspiciously like the one Buck has been showing Eddie for like six months that he couldn't justify the cost of because he's not around enough to use it as much as he'd like.

"I'm not usually the one without his shit together," Eddie says.

"No offense, Eddie, but I thought the whole point of therapy was you realizing you rarely have your shit together."

Also true. He's - usually better at hiding it though. Kim was a joker stacked up on a wobbly house of cards and he'd known, somewhere in the back of his mind, that she'd bring the whole thing tumbling to the ground. Mass casualty event. No survivors.

"You make each other better people," Eddie says, which is the wrong thing to say apparently because Tommy scowls.

"If you wanna completely ignore all the work we've both put into ourselves," he snipes, and - yeah. Fair. Buck's been in therapy for years now. Every once in a while he'll pull something out of his ass that makes Eddie's skin itch - something so mystifyingly self-aware that it makes Eddie want to claw into his chest cavity and rip out his fucking heart. And Tommy - well, he doesn't know much but it's not like Tommy's the paragon of perfection. He's worked through some shit. Is still working through shit, if the aftermath of his and Buck's first real fight is any indication.

"I've never been with someone who makes me want to work on myself," Eddie admits, and the lines around Tommy's eyes shift. He sighs.

"Never gonna find that if you don't want it for yourself."

Yeah. Frank's said as much. It's just - Eddie doesn't have a starting point. Tommy had the whole hiding his true self thing, and Buck had the dead-brother-shitty-parents thing, and he's whittling them both down to the sharp edges of themselves in his mind, which isn't entirely fair but it's easier than trying to confront what the fuck his own problem is. Dead wife, his kid in another state, a contentious relationship with his father, a whole backlog of PTSD he's never really confronted head on. Weird feelings cropping up about a religion he thought he'd left in the dust and sand of Afghanistan and a hole he's been trying to fill up with other people since - well, he doesn't even know since when.

Tommy's got his dog tags laying in the bottom of an empty fruit bowl on his kitchen table. Eddie's never seen them before, and some part of him knows Tommy'd brought them out for a conversation with Buck he'll never hear himself, and he aches. He doesn't want them, but he wants what they have, wants to be able to talk about the difficult shit without closing in on himself, wants to have someone to come home to, wants -

"I spent six months imagining my therapist's head exploding every time she made me talk about something uncomfortable," Tommy tells him, and takes a long drag off his beer. For the first time since he'd knocked on Tommy's door, Eddie actually feels a little bad about interrupting his night, but that just leaves him spiralling some more because Eddie usually feels bad about everything, all the time, so why hadn't he felt guilty about this until now? And why does he feel guilty about not feeling guilty?

"I just want him to fix me," Eddie says, and Tommy laughs. Laughs hard and long enough that Eddie's feeling offended. Off kilter and pissed off and -

"You're not a single loose wire, Eddie. Can't just replace a cable and have a clean slate. You gotta change your oil and replace the spark plugs and top up the coolant, over and over again until you die."

It's the sort of metaphor Eddie'd like to lob across the field of engagement just to watch it get shot to pieces. It's apt, though.

"Feels like the whole engines gotta go," Eddie tells him "Transmission's shot and my catalytic converter keeps getting stolen and the mufflers been welded back on so many times that it's half-solder."

"Christ," Tommy says, which. Yeah. Exactly. "Well you can't exactly send yourself to the junk yard for scrap and buy a newer model."

"Buck does," Eddie snaps, and Tommy rolls his eyes. He'd been there the last time Buck brought up his 1.0 days.

"Half the time a system update patches ten bugs and creates twenty more."

"So Buck's buggy, is what you're saying."

He rolls his tongue over his teeth. "You are running off faulty software and you've been refusing to update to the new version because you heard it'd burn the battery faster, is what I'm saying."

Eddie doesn't have a whole lot of charge to begin with. And the metaphors are starting to muddle in his brain, too many different ideas battling around when he's already spent an ornery hour talking to Frank and another trying to convince himself he doesn't resent his best friend for accepting his own fucking flaws and working on them.

Tommy sets the beer bottle down. Eyes Eddie for a moment, and Eddie wonders how often he levels that look on Buck, how Buck feels when Tommy flays him open and digs through his insides. "You wanna go hit something for a bit?" he asks, and Eddie nods so quickly he nearly smacks his nose into the brim of the bottle in his own hand. He's about done feeling his feelings, for the moment. He'll probably end up being annoyed that Tommy makes him wrap his hands before he takes some aggression out on the bag hung up in the corner of Tommy's garage, but maybe when Tommy gets annoyed with him and does that takedown maneuver that knocks the wind out of Eddie's lungs when they're sparring he'll let that go.

Tommy flicks his forehead on the way to grab him something to wear. "That's for calling my boyfriend buggy, jackass," he says, and laughs himself all the way down the hall when Eddie splutters after him.

His bedroom door snicks shut by the time Eddie's recovered enough to remind him that he'd been Eddie's friend first.

#eddie&tommy #just a little something to tide us over until we get eddie riding the struggle bus on screen #bucktommy

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hyperfixatinator · 4 months ago

Text

Where is the line?

In the comics, Tim Drake's moral code is an enigma to me, particularly his stance on the Batclan's no-kill rule. For all the fans who say he's always one step away from full blown villainy, there are even more saying he's a strict goody two-shoes who could never stoop that low.

Then there's the different takes on where Tim draws the line between these two extremes. Personally, I find that line hard to pinpoint. Digging for canon demonstrations of his morals has lead me to more questions than answers. My biggest question right now is:

What counts as breaking the no-kill rule in Tim's eyes?

Luckily, the Robins 2021 comics shed some light on this. In issue #3, "Tim", or rather an imposter of him, said that choosing not to save someone isn't the same as killing them, and that letting a villain die can be a way to get justice. Normally, this point would be moot since it's not Tim himself who said it. However, at the end of issue #6, the real Tim clarified that what the imposter said WAS his real opinion on the matter.

Not only that, but Tim has shown this belief through his thoughts and actions before. Twice.

The first time goes all the way back to Robin 1991 #5. During the fight against King Snake, Tim kicked him through a nearby window, fifty stories above the ground. As King Snake's life hung in the balance, Shiva appeared and commanded Tim to kill him.

Tim refused. He walked away, leaving King Snake entirely at Shiva's mercy.

What gets me is that Tim made no move to save King Snake from falling. And he made no effort to stop Shiva from committing the murder, either. His only thought as he heard the man's scream was "Fifty stories is a long way to fall."

The second time was in Red Robin 2009 #26. Tim orchestrated a whole plan to manipulate Captain Boomerang into getting killed by Mr. Freeze. The whole time, Tim blamed Captain Boomerang for making all those bad choices, despite Tim being the one raising the chances of them being made. Tim believed he was innocent because he wasn't directly participating.

Tim then stopped that plan, but not for any noble reason. He decided that he couldn't let anyone else kill Captain Boomerang but himself.

Tim couldn't bring himself to do that, either. So he had to spare his father's killer in the end.

This seems pretty cut and dry so far, right? Tim believing that letting villains die is alright as long he doesn't do the deed himself? I'd think so too, if there weren't other moments contradicting this.

In Robin #35, Steph insisted on leaving an enemy who got buried under the snow to die. Tim chastised her for it.

Neither of them were responsible for the snow, or for the enemy getting trapped in it. Plus, that guy tried to kill them with a chainsaw moments prior, so he's not exactly an innocent damsel in distress.

Maybe it was because this enemy wasn't a big enough fish to fry. We didn't really get confirmation that this guy has actually killed before, and he's around goon status at best.

But then in Robin #46, Tim chose to save another enemy who got himself into a deadly situation. That enemy was a murderer known as Young El. This time, Tim wasn't telling anyone else why they should save a murderer's life out loud. These were his private thoughts.

Notice how Tim's inner monologue sounded kind of on-the-fence. He contemplated justice finally catching up with Young El as the floorboards gave way, bringing a support beam down on him in the process.

However, Tim immediately switched gears to rescue Young El from under that beam before the water rose too high.

But Tim, as he told Young El the reasons he's saving him, asked himself "Do I even believe what I'm saying?" He could be asking this about two different things he said here. A) "Maybe it's not too late for you to learn something, Young El.", or B) "Death's easier for you when it's the other guy. Death's never been easy for me."

For Tim to doubt his belief in either of these statements is very interesting. He could be questioning if Young El is already too far gone for redemption, or he could be questioning if seeing someone die has never been easy for himself. For all we know, it could be both.

Unfortunately, Tim never got to see if his choice to save him would pay off. Tim wasn't strong enough to lift that beam, and Young El drowned.

There's a question on my mind as I read these pages. What makes this murderer's death different from when Tim let King Snake fall to his "death"? Sure, King Snake didn't actually die, but Tim didn't know that until later when the man came looking for revenge in Gotham.

Tim was once able to simply walk away from what he was certain would be a killer's demise. But then he's consumed by guilt over not being able to prevent a different killer's death down the line, to the point of hallucinating.

On top of that, what changed Tim's mind later? Red Robin #26 and Robins 2021 #3-6 still happened in the future. The only significant difference I can tell is that these two comics involved the killer's of Tim's parents, making it personal. But if the Imposter from Robins 2021 got his beliefs from his profile before his mother's killer got involved, then does that still hold up?

Maybe we should put a pin on it for now. There are other things Tim's done that brings the details of his no-kill rule into question.

Such as that one time Tim actually killed someone with his bare hands.

In Robin issues #51-52, Tim accidentally killed Lady Shiva while drugged on amarilla, a plant that enhances the user's speed beyond human limitations.

It may be argued if the amarilla altered Tim's mind enough to excuse him of fault or not. However, I want to focus on what happened after Shiva was revived. Here's another question to go with the first one:

Does Tim believe the kill still counts if the victim was revived afterwards?

From what I've gathered, yes and no. It's kind of complicated.

After Tim killed Shiva, he was understandably distressed about it, about how he can never take it back.

But after Shiva came back to life? Nothing. He didn't dwell on the fact he broke the vow to never kill. For something that devastating to happen in his life, it's odd that Tim didn't bring it up ever again, privately or otherwise. Especially considering what happened later in Robin #123, when Tim thought he killed Johnny Warlock.

Tim was utterly inconsolable. He lost all faith in his abilities as Robin, and in himself as a whole. It also contributed to his decision to quit being Robin after his dad found out. In general, he seriously dwelled on that "kill" for a much longer time than he had after killing Shiva. The difference being that he knew Shiva was resuscitated immediately afterwards, while Tim didn't know Johnny survived until issue #141.

But there's the fact that Shiva really did die. Her heart and breathing both stopped. So are we to believe Tim moved on from that so easily because she's alive now? What happened to never getting that back?

Come to think of it, not long after Tim killed and revived Shiva, there was someone else who landed in that same boat. Dick.

In Joker: The Last Laugh #6, Dick brutally attacked the Joker after believing he killed Tim. Dick ended up accidentally killing Joker instead, before the clown was resuscitated.

Here's the thing. While Tim was trying to comfort Dick, saying that it's ok because Joker's alive now, Dick didn't believe so. He was still distraught that he killed someone. The fact Joker came back to life afterwards didn't matter to him. To Dick, it still counted. So what does that say about Tim?

Before we move on, there's another person Tim knows who also died and came back from the grave. Jason.

Tim openly acknowledged Jason was killed before coming back, too. Multiple times. For example, when they met up in Red Hood and the Outlaws 2011 #8.

Tim hadn't shown any signs that he thinks Jason's murder doesn't count anywhere, except for maybe once.

In Knight Terrors: Robin #2, Tim and Jason had a heart-to-heart, and Tim said something strange.

"You survived."

Except Jason didn't survive. He died. To say Jason survived that night would've meant he never died to begin with. Him being alive now doesn't change that. Was this Tim telling a white lie to make Jason feel better? Or does Tim see being revived after death as "surviving"?

Ok, now we can move onto the next question. Or rather, bear with me as we go back to the first question. It's a broad topic with plenty more to talk about.

What does Tim count as breaking the no-kill rule?

We already asked how Tim feels about bringing villains back from the dead after killing them. And we asked how Tim feels about leaving a villain to die without getting directly involved. However, we still don't know how much involvement Tim needs to have in an enemy's death before he'll take responsibility for it.

We can confirm he won't mercy kill in Red Robin #21, even if it means giving someone a fate worse than death. No exceptions.

Tim also doesn't allow anyone he's actively teaming up with to kill, especially if he's the one in command. He's been amicable with known killers before (Huntress and Pru, for example), but only when they remain non-lethal while working alongside him.

Apart from that, though, it becomes less clear. However, I think this is a good place to expand on when Tim blew up a lot of League of Assassins bases in Red Robin #8.

I'm not going into whether or not those explosions actually killed anyone. I've seen evidence supporting both sides of this debate, so I'm just going to say it's up to interpretation. What I AM talking about is whether or not Tim would've felt responsible if they had killed someone.

Before overloading every generator in the LOA database, Tim gave a warning to the Wanderer. He told her that he couldn't be held responsible for what would happen to her if she didn't leave.

After initiating the explosions, Tim warned the White Ghost that they had fifteen seconds to leave before it was too late.

Fifteen seconds. That explanation on the mistake of letting him in might've taken roughly another fifteen to twenty seconds. Did the other bases even get a full minute head start? The way some of the people were already running away could imply they at least got a warning, but it's possible they might not have.

Even if everyone in every base received a warning, would that be enough for Tim to avoid holding himself accountable if they didn't make it out in time? Tim's the one who rigged the bases to explode, but I guess giving someone a warning means it's now their fault for not heeding it?

We can't be sure he even considered the possibility of those explosions killing anyone. Tim knew they were dangerous enough to bring the whole Cradle down, and the other ones we saw looked pretty powerful (except the ones in Ra's hideout). But Tim also called Ra's a murderer right after that happened, which would've been very hypocritical if Tim himself thought he committed murder.

So, my guess is either A) Tim relied on sheer luck for those explosions not causing any casualties and chose to believe they hadn't, or B) Tim didn't believe the deaths of anyone caught in them would be his fault.

Again, this isn't about whether or not blowing up the LOA bases killed anyone. It's about how willing Tim was to take that risk, and if he would've blamed himself for anyone getting killed from it.

Either way, it's canon that Tim had no guilt for the explosions he caused, or for anything he did before Red Robin #22. Just ask the Sword of Sin.

This is an exerpt I got from the Fandom DC Database on the Sword of Sin:

"The Sword of Sin can be ignited with the mind of the wielder, if the person is powerful enough. The sword has the ability to conjure in the mind its victims all of the sins for which they are guilty or have not atoned for."

When Tim was stabbed with this sword, he was immune. The Sword of Sin decided he was innocent. Although, I have to ask how reliable this sword was in making that judgement. If the sword is judging others based on its own set principles, then something's not right here.

The Sword of Sin was also used on Dick, and he wasn't immune. It dug into Dicks subconscious and unearthed memories he'd long since repressed. Memories of himself watching a boy get beaten to near death, and then doing nothing. He just walked away.

Now, tell me why the sword brought this to light, but not the time Tim left King Snake to die!

It wasn't an accident. Tim deliberately chose to leave instead of trying to save this man from the murderous Lady Shiva. Sure, Tim was no match for Shiva and he might've not been able to stop her, but the same could be said for an eight year old Dick not stopping a group of much older kids. Neither of them tried to stop the attackers.

Tim didn't atone for it, either. When King Snake returned in Batman #469, Bruce told King Snake that it wasn't Tim who left him to die. We know that's a lie, but Tim never corrected this. He let Shiva take all the blame.

We have two instances of a boy choosing not to prevent someone from having a near death experience. One guilty, and one innocent.

Did the Sword of Sin think Tim was justified because King Snake was corrupt? That doesn't sound holy to me.

Was it because Tim didn't feel any guilt over it, while Dick did? Can the sword's judgement be thrown off by the victim not feeling any shred of guilt over their actions, even subconsciously?

That could make sense given what we know Tim did in the past: King Snake falling, the vandalism (explosions), and ALL the lying over the years (Tim reviving Shiva might count as atonement, so I'm not including that). If the sword based its judgement on God's will alone, then odds are high it would've picked up on one of these.

Even so, I'm not going to sit here and say this is definitely the case. I'm not familiar enough with how the sword effects other characters to make that call.

If this is indeed false, then did the DC universe's version of God decide to pardon Tim of his sins when he prayed earlier that same issue, despite him not believing he had any? I mean, who knows, right?

You can probably see why there's more questions than answers. The point is Tim didn't have any guilt for the things he did before Red Robin #22. Tim was canonically convinced he had nothing to atone for.

So then why did he say the opposite later in Knight Terrors: Robin #2?!

In the heart-to-heart between Tim and Jason, Tim tells him this:

"You have a lot to atone for...We all do..."

Tim knows that the words "we all" include him, right? By saying this, Tim admitted to also having things he needs to atone for, right?

Is this another white lie to make Jason feel better? Is it one of those slight changes the New 52 made to the canon? If not, then why did he change his mind? Did his no-kill rule change and make him feel guilty for some past actions? Is it not the no-kill rule, but something else?

What changed?!

Where does Tim draw the line?

I don't know. We've narrowed it down to a general area, but it's kinda hard to see a line when it's so blurred it could be a gradient.

Tim baffles me. He acts as a steady moral compass for others when he can't even seem to stay consistent with his own. You're free to call it poor writing (and honestly, fair), but I find his hypocrisy fascinating.

That's what it is, isn't it? Tim's a hypocrite who's completely oblivious to being one. And it's not like this was never mentioned in the comics before. Damian called him out on it!

In Batman & Robin 2011 #10, Damian confronted Tim about his near-murderous reaction when Fist Point killed Artemis (Teen Titans Vol 4 annual #1). Damian then accused Tim of constantly rejecting him because they have more in common than Tim's willing to admit.

It's debatable how accurate that accusation was, but Tim had a pretty volatile reaction to it.

"I believe in every choice I make!"

Does he? I don't think someone who's so sure of what he believes in would contradict himself to this extent. Especially if he wasn't doing it on purpose.

He wouldn't vehemently push Bruce's no-kill rule onto others and berate them for bending that rule, only to go and bend that same rule himself when the Batclan isn't around. He also wouldn't exploit what he thinks are loopholes, decide later that those loopholes broke the no-kill rule, and then earnestly claim he never broke it.

Why is he like this?! He's had arguably the most normal childhood out of the whole Batclan before becoming Robin! What could've made him so fickle about this?!

Where does he draw the line? And how will he know when he's crossed it?

#batman #dc #robin #tim drake #red robin #theory #analysis #long post #tim drake is a menace #unhinged tim drake #To think all of this was written without mentioning Tim's corrupt future selves #or the numerous times he's actually contemplated or attempted murder #Believe me I would've loved to add 5-10 more screenshots of those moments alone #but I hit the 30 image limit :(#Anyway I want to study Tim in a lab #Feedback is welcome #I'm aware I hadn't read all the DC comics so I could've missed something

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itstheghostofmypast · 4 months ago

Text

Awake - (Maknae Line)

separate members Ateez x (F)Reader

Summary: You went to sleep after a HUGE (not really) fight, only, when you went to sleep you were alone, not in the comforting arms of your lover.

Genre: Hurt + Comfort

Rating: PG-17

Warnings: None

Word Count: 9.5K

Est.Read Time: 47 min

Networks: @cromernet @k-labels @illusionnet

Banner: @cafekitsune

Hyung Line: Here

A/N: A little update, this took forever- Also I no longer remember how to write a literature review, yet, it is due on Monday (fml) .I'll update my requests soon and upload the next chapter of Meow soon, too! (I AM SORRY SAN'S PART IS EXTREMELY LONG)

Choi San

“I…what?” you paused, looking up from the vacuum-packed pillow in your lap. Sitting at the center of his bed, surrounded by various items, you blinked at the man in the swivel chair.

“I said no, I'm not going to use or put any other pillows on my bed.” The beanie clad man spat back, crossing his arms over his chest, the black shirt clinging onto his form. An eerie silence settled between the two, neither making their next move, nor deciding to back down.

The evening had started extremely well. Tonight she was going to spend the night at his place, for the first time ever, which is why she was extremely excited and nervous. The two had spent a week planning the various activities for Friday night. He had volunteered to arrange the movies and bring the gaming console to his room, thrilled when she told him she'd bring the skincare products, claiming the two could do facials and wear face masks! It got better when he asked if perhaps they could play board games to which she instantly agreed, adding - “Let's bake too! I'll get the ingredients!”

Hence, as soon as you had entered his room, you had dumped the contents of your back on his bed, showing him the numerous facemasks, UNO cards, a board game, some hair accessories, makeup and an unhealthy amount of snack (yes, you were planning on doing cutesy couple things) you had brought, the ingredients for the ‘special Friday night brownie’ on the computer desk beside him. What you did not expect was for it to all go down hill once you took out the pillows.

“What’s that?” he asked, watching you pull a vacuumed white thing out of your bag, one after another. Placing them on his bed, before taking out two pillow covers. You smiled at him, before ripping off the seal of one of the pillows, pulling the plastic off, and watching as it fluffed up. “Pillows!” you smiled, “You only have one, the poor boy is all worn out, lumpy, and old, so I got two more! You can replace it with them!” looking at him, you pressed the cotton pillow, to show him, “They’re super soft and have memory foam, I got them, especially for your neck and shoulders!”

You grabbed the second one and placed it on your lap when he spoke, “No.”

“What?”

“I said no, I'm not going to use or put any other pillows on my bed.”

Blinking at him, you moved the sealed pillow aside and scooted closer to the edge of the bed, closer to him, trying not to push any of the multiple things you had brought off the bed. Feet pressing against the floor you looked up at him, hands on your knees, leaning closer, “Sannie…it’s just a pillow-”

That was perhaps all it took for the mood to go sour, real quick. He had got up from his seat and marched towards her, causing her eyes to widen in surprise, especially when he had stood right above her, hands on his hips, saying something she’d never even imagined, before reaching beside her - though she had flinched when his hand came closer, something he had noticed but chose to ignore- grabbing his pillow and pulling back. He stared at her, not even sparing her a glance as he walked out of the room, making sure to slam the door behind him as he did so, his words still ringing in her ears as she blinked down at her hands, wondering what she had said, if she had done something to offend him, if she really was inconsiderate.

“I didn’t know you could be so inconsiderate and spoiled- or maybe you’re just selfish.”

Honestly, you had thought of going after him, but you had never seen react like this- this uncharacteristic outburst was extremely new to you, the cold words thrown at you were worse, this wasn’t what you were used to. This wasn’t the same Sannie who would whisper sweet nothings in your ear when you were sad, this wasn’t the same Sannie who once came over when he found out you were sick, only leaving when you were asleep and well fed. This definitely wasn’t the same man who had taken hold of your heart, delicately placing it in his pocket- no, you really didn’t know who that was. Perhaps that’s why you didn’t go after him, at one point, you had thought of packing up and going home, but when you glanced at the clock 01.23 AM was not a very appropriate time to travel back home alone. With that you had neatly packed up everything but the essentials needed for your nightly routine,making sure all you’d have to do was change before leaving as soon as the sun woke up.

You peaked out the door to find complete darkness, sighing in relief as you took your essentials and walked down the hall towards the washroom, passing by Seonghwa’s room, making sure to be quiet when you noticed the light peaking through from under the door. If you focused, you could make out Seonghwa’s muffled voice, though it was like he was talking to himself, or he was on the phone, but he did not sound pleased at all. Due to which you tried to rush through your routine, making sure to be as quiet as before, slowly closing the door, your breath hitching at the soft click, a hand gripping the door handle, while your palm pressed against the wood, trying to listen to any sounds of movements, luckily there was nothing.

With a sigh you walked over to the mirror, grimacing at the sight, your new night suit was but a simple but a cute cotton outfit, a lavender camisole with a patching pair of loose fitted shorts, ensuring maximum comfort and well…it was supposed to ensure his liking as well. The mere thought of him squeezed your heart, wanting to go after him and sort it out- but no, you were a big girl and a smart one, no man could just say something so brash and throw a fit before leaving, not even the man who held your heart in his warm palm.

You had assumed that these thoughts were going to consume and feed off your sleep, but boy, were you wrong, as soon as your head hit the pillow, you were out like a light, off to dreaming about who knows what, but it was a pleasant dream, a very soft, warm and nice dream, maybe it was because of the new pillow, who knows- but it was a very life like dream, where you felt all fuzzy and secure, as if you were in a comforting hug, ones like he’d give you, a bit too…realistic.

Though she only jerked awake at the feeling of something trailing up her spine, a small gasp breaking the silence, as she tried to move away, only to be pulled closer, a groan from above her head vibrating through her whole being. Oh.

Letting out a sigh of relief, you tilted your head up, to the best of your ability, forcing the man’s chin off your head as he blinked down at you with droopy eyes, a sheepish pout, ever so visible even in the dim light. The thing trailing up your spine, was in fact, his fingers, his fingertips tracing your spine, in a soothing manner. Your own hand squeezed in between their bodies, trying to push him away but he didn't budge, only his palm pressed against the small of your back, trying to keep you near him.

“You don’t get to be mean, and assume a little skinship is gonna fix that.”

Your words were harsh, and your tone was even more harsh, but you wanted it to be, you wanted it to sting, enough for him to realise this wasn't a joke, he had ruined the entire night and the mood.

His grip loosened at your words, enough for you to slip away from you to move onto the other pillow, sighing at the cold sensation on your cheek, now at the same eye level as the moron who was on the other pillow- internally you wanted to be petty and snatch it from under his head, he didn't deserve it, but the sight of his mochi cheek smashed against the soft pillow had your inner girl squealing at at the sight.

“I…I've had this same pillow since my trainee days.” he mumbled, reaching behind him to pull out the lumpy, beat up, tired pillow and pulling it to his chest, hugging it closer, “I had it when I got picked…I had it when we went to Gangnam…when grandpa…passed and…well…I- did you think I was gonna...hurt you?” He whispered, referring to the way you had flinched, of course the guilt was eating him up, that's why he had gone to Seonghwa to talk about it- maybe he looked to scary for his own good, but hell, an angry Seonghwa was even more frightening, and that's whom he had to deal with.

With a deep breath you reached over and placed your hand on top of his hand, "It was...reflex...I knew you wouldn't...at least not physically," , noticing how his fingers gripped the pillow harder at contact, “Why…didn't you just…say that before?”

His breath hitched at your question, looking everywhere but at your face, the insecurities brewing inside as he chewed on his lower lip, unsure if he should answer you, what would you think about him if he told you? What if you find it weird, what if his insecurities and his past makes you question the worth of this relationshipz- he's not the boy he used to be, he's not sensitive or weak or-

“Sannie…” she whispered, slowly moving closer to him, her face on the same fluffy pillow he was on, the old pillow now squished between the two as she sighed, “You can tell me…” Her hand cupped his cheek, thumb stroking the warm skin, trying fo coax whatever it was out of him. She was still upset, but, she'd never seen him this conflicted.

“I just…” with a sigh he closed his eyes, thinking of what to say, only to end up blank. He opened his eyes to meet hers, mumbling, “Seonghwa yelled at me for what I said to you…he's right…I shouldn't have said that…I just…you don't really know…I mean I wasn't always…like this…this big or…manly or strong-” his grip on the pillow loosened, instead his arm wrapped around her, pulling her into him in one go, his lips curled into a small smile at her squeak, his pillow between the two, pressed to the max, “And when…you said its just a pillow I- I kind of…I mean its stupid but it scared me how I… if you were to realise I just grew bigger, I'm not that different, I'm still scared of bugs, I still hate vegetables and -”

“You really are a little dumb.” you cut him off, pressing a finger on his lips, to shush him, “I don't care if you're not all buff and big, I don't care if you were lanky and whiney- I just know you were San then and you are San now- as long as that big ol'heart of yours stays the same, I'm all yours.”

You felt his grip tighten around you, pressing your forehead against him as he relaxed against you, letting out a breath of relief.

“Sure, these big boys add a great amount to your aura points though.” You giggled, patting his muscular arms, “A softie with big guns is all a girl wants~” you smiled at the way his face contorted in confusion, only to quickly press your lips against him, laughing at his surprised squeak.

“I'll make it up to you…” he whispered, finally feeling the exhaustion of the entire confession settling in, moving to remove the pillow from between them but she stopped him, surprising him yet again as she smiled at him, one that had his heart beat so loud that's all he could hear.

“I said don't use it as a pillow because your neck will hurt, but I never said throw away a part of yourself- plus its nice…smells like you.” her fingers wrapped around his wrist and pulled his arm over the pillow and herself, snuggling closer to him, “You're lucky I was staying over for the whole weekend.”

With your head tucked under his chin, arm wrapped around him, smoothly rubbing his back, his wrapped around your waist, he sighed nuzzling into the new pillows, happy that they carried your scent more than his, “Lucky to have you in my life.”

Song Mingi

Of course you were mad at him, how could you not be? He was supposed to come home by 6- he was supposed to spend the evening with you, have dinner with you, watch a movie with you, and spend your anniversary together. Well technically, it was your 6 month anniversary, but hey, half a year meant something to you, and as much as you were mature and ‘a cold-hearted’ b*tch, as claimed by your male coworkers, you were just soft for the giant man child who somehow managed to thaw the glacier you had for a heart.

So, when you had texted him earlier today he had instantly replied with an excited confirmation, what you did not think that after that he wouldn’t respond to you. You tried calling too, but his phone went straight to voicemail, so you waited and waited and waited- until you got a little notification of a certain white haired man doing a live, one that wasn’t scheduled. Were you upset because he was doing his job? No. Were you upset he didn’t tell you? Yes. He should’ve been decent enough to at least text you that he was going to be late, that he had work- you’d never asked him to prioritise you over his work, you knew what you were getting into, and with your workaholic personality, he knew yours, which is why he should have known that you would have understood wherever he was coming from.

Naturally she was furious when he stepped into the apartment, though being Mingi, he had no clue what she was upset about, even after he saw the cold pizza, the melted candles and small gift that lay wrapped in glossy paper. Instead he had walked over to her with a smile, ready to hug her- wrong move.

"I SAID DON'T TOUCH ME!"

Her voice boomed across the hall, followed by the echo of her slap resonated in the confines of his aching heart, staring down at her with utter shock, a whimper at the tip of his tongue, an apology right after but hey- this was Song Mingi, and using his actual emotional maturity was never his first move.

Hence the platinum blonde gasped, giving her an offended look and mumbling, "Why are you being so pissy? It's literally a pizza, not some homemade meal." He eyed the table before turning to her, though she looked as if she were about to explode- somewhere deep down he was kind of afraid, he’d never seen her this angry, she was often quite calm and composed, extremely reserved. That would explain why her reaction caught him off guard, especially when he tried to talk to her, tried to hold her hand so she’d stop leaving every damn room she walked into.

“Look, I have a job!!” he called out walking after her, into the kitchen, “You of all people should know that, I can’t just leave my fans because you wanna celebrate some made up event!”

“Its not made up Mingi!” you turned around and glared at him, “I- I asked you two days ago about this, I told you it meant something to me and- I just, I can’t believe you didn’t even think of texting me! What’s the difference between you and any other guy from my office if you can’t communicate properly!”

Granted, if he took a minute to process her words, but sometimes she was so complicated. Moreover, he knew what he got into once he began to chase after her for months, he knew what he was getting into when she directly told him about her issues and insecurities, her reserved attitude and persona, one that she often let go off when she was with her giant, lovable dummy. If he kept all those factors in mind, and just took a moment to think, he would have understood the premise of her argument, but he really didn’t want to, or perhaps he just didn’t take it seriously, either way, his next words were the reason for which he was back in his form, wondering why the hell he didn’t think of apologising like a normal person.

“They’re lucky because they don't have a Runik's cube for a girlfriend.”

That was all it took for the bomb to go off;

"GET YOUR FAKE GOJO LOOKIN ASS OUT OF MY APARTMENT!”

“W-what-” his question was cut off when she shoved him away, going to grab the nearest object which happened to be the very present she had spent most of her salary on, swinging it right at his face- screw his job. But the bastard was quick when he ducked and tried to get to her, only to get whacked in the head with a candle, “Babe-”

“I SAID LEAVE!” you yelled, staring at him through bleary eyes, trying to keep the whirlwind of emotions, taking a deep breath as you pointed towards the door, feeling the cold slither up your fingertips, choosing the words that would end it all, whoever said dating was fun, was wrong, you’d rather stay single than feel any similar form of pain, though you did feel like you should have the final say in this. It didnt matter that the tall man in front of you looked like he was fumbling with the pieces of your so called relationship, tripping over his words has he tried to sprout out an apology, “Leave, let me relieve you of this burden.”

For you, the conversation had ended there, especially when he was standing outside, not sparing him a moment as you slammed the door on his face. After that, like any San individual you had cleared up the table, initially thinking of throwing out the pizza, but then it hit you - “I work hard to earn too, its not just him.” So you kept that, threw away the candles and the other decorations (stabbed the balloons-naturally). Honestly, you didn't know where his gift went, probably smashed into pieces after it ‘boinked’ off his stupid, giant head. After that you had washed up (cried in the shower for about an hour or so), stumbled towards your bed and knocked out as soon as your head hit the pillow.

The worst kind of ‘black-out’ sleep known to man, is what you endured that night, only to wake up when the fire alarm went off, fighting off the blankets, almost tumbling to your demise several times before entering the kitchen, coughing as the smoke entered your lungs. You opened the nearest window and turned around to bump into a softer form, arms wrapping around your form, before you were dragged out of the apartment and into the balcony, wheezing for your life, taking in as much clean air in one go as possible.

Mingi rubbed her back in a circular motion, a hand holding onto hers, helping her sit down on one of the stools, pulling one closer and sitting right next to her as he held her hand, thinking of going back inside to get her water, though when he felt her squeeze his hand he face turned to meet hers, blinking at her stoic face. Damn, she’s still mad at him.

As soon as clarity hit, she had realised, this moron was back, not only that, it was still night out, so he had graciously trespassed into her apartment, set something on fire, almost killed her and then dragged her out on the balcony, of all the idiots she could’ve picked from to date, she chose the their leader.

“What are you doing here?”

“I was…trying to make you breakfast.”

“I told you its over-the hell? What time is it?”

She got up only to feel him tug her back down, this time onto his lap, wrapping his arms around her waist so she couldn’t escape, as she glared down at him, “Let go.”

“No…” shaking his head he buried his face in her neck, “ its 5 something, I…I’m sorry.” he whispered, feeling her stiffen in his hold, he knew a mere apology wouldn’t be enough, but he had to start somewhere, especially when he had gone back to the apartment and narrated the entire incident to his two bros- both thus throwing him back out, San adding an, “And don’t come back until you fix your mess, you ungrateful idiot.” Truthfully, he didn’t need to tell him that he had f*cked up, he was well aware of that fact, he just needed a push- that and he was terrified of her, he’d only seen her get angry at her coworkers when they’d mess up work, or that one time she got mad at a couple of highschoolers who thought kicking a puppy was fun, he’d never been the one at the receiving end of her wrath, until today. Perhaps that’s why he had assumed he was all forgiven, all safe, he had some form of immunity, thus, giving him the privilege of being mean to her- well, that theory was stupid. Wat made him assume he could just be mean to her because he felt like it? Since when was he, someone who knows what it felt like to be neglected, begin to neglect his own loved ones? She never fell in love with a man who was like this- what was he doing?

She was about to push him off, especially after he didn’t bother adding anything after his sorry, no explanation, nothing, only to stop when she felt something damp on her skin, realising that he in fact was not rocking them back and forth, but the man child was crying.

“Dude…are you…crying?” she asked, gripping her shoulders as she pushed him away, earning a whine, as the bigger man tried to cover his face with his hands, “Song Mingi, what is wrong with you-”

“I’m sorry, okay!” his whimper had her freezing, eying his face, “I- I didn’t mean it! I don’t know why I said it, okay? It wasn’t cool and I-I know tha- I just- you’ve never, I mean- angry- upset because of me-” his words when she squeezed his cheeks, cupping his warm face, glaring down at him, frowning at the wetness.

“The Song Mingi I fell in love with was a softie- not a red flag like Gojo.”

He could only nod at her statement, fingers gripping onto her harder, cherishing the lack of past tense in her statement.

“Am I going to get him back, or is this the new you?”

She moved her hands to let him speak, only he pulled her flush against him, instinctively her arms wrapped around his shoulders, sighing when she felt his hold tighten. Her small squeak echoed in the quiet of the early morning, blending in with the soft symphony of the birds that had woken up before the sun, as he stood up, slowly walking back inside the apartment. With her legs wrapped around his waist, she blinked up at him, catching his little pout, only to sigh, as he carried her to her bedroom, only stopping at the edge of his bed.

“Can I…sleep with you?”

She hummed for a moment, biting her lip to hide her smile, when she noticed him frown at the time she was taking to answer his question, “What if I say no-SONG MINGI!”

He rolled his eyes at your little scream, he didn’t put his entire body weight on you, though, he did roll around until both of you were wrapped in a soft cocoon, with your back pressed against his warm, broad chest, his arm wrapped around you, as he shamelessly draped a heavy leg over yours. For a while, the two of you lay there silently, watching as the golden beams of the warm morning sun, sifted through the slits of the curtains, creating an luminous mosaic across the opposite wall, the song of the world waking up around you was slowly lulling you to sleep, and just when it became just right, he instantly broke the peaceful atmosphere, “Thank you for the ring.”

“Oh.” so it didnt vanish, he had taken it,

“Most welcome…”you whispered, trying to cling onto the strings of tranquility that were wrapped around you, “Did you take it before I threw you out?”

“Mhmm…is it…a couple ring?” he asked, though a moment later he got no response, causing him to peer down at her, and let out a chuckle, she had fallen asleep- she must’ve been tired, especially after all the stupid things he did yesterday, though his smile widened after his hand trailed down her arm, hand clasping hers, almost shivering with joy at the feeling of the cold metal on her finger.

Jung Wooyoung

Wooyoung had a sharp tongue, he knew that, the guys knew that, hell, you knew that too, but did that mean you were prepared for it? No, of course not, you were his little, itty-bitty, cute pookie- don't hate the name, hate the man who had bestowed it upon you.

He gave you the name when you called him to your apartment for the first time, mind you, it wasn't what Wooyoung was expecting. The first time you had invited him over for the night had him rolling on the ground like a dog, his shy and quiet little girlfriend was willingly fueling his weird side, he couldn't wait to barge into her private space, ask her all sort of questions, learn more about her, tease her, test her limits, take in her reactions, in every sense; physical and psychological.

The moment she had opened the door and his eyes landed on her cotton baby pink shorts, he felt himself shiver with excitement, trying not to howl like a mad dog, scaring her away- though that entire fantasy was short lived when he realised by ‘sleep over’ she literally meant ‘sleep over’, like a …slumber party. So yes, that night they didn't do what he thought they would, but they did; give each other facials, watch a movie while wearing her newly bought sheet masks, paint each other’s nails (well he just made a mess of hers) and do each other's hair, honestly the night ended with him going straight to dreamland once she began to brush his hair, only waking up in the morning to find her snuggled with him, clinging onto him. He liked it, never thought he would, but the moment his eyes noticed the way she was gripping onto his shirt, his heart leaped with joy- it felt nice being loved like this, being needed. Hence, sleepovers like these had become a norm, so much so that sometimes she'd go over to his place unannounced, and surprise him with her little surprise sleepover, one he'd often love it. Instantly attacking her with unlimited smooches, hugging and squeezing her till the air in her lungs would run out.

Unfortunately, tonight was not one of those nights, in fact, when he had walked into his room, the sight of you actually irked him- unsure of why, but your shy smile and gentle eyes just had just made his blood boil. Perhaps it was the stress of the entire day, or the argument he had with San over something stupid, or how Mingi ate his chicken piece, or because Jongho kept on humming a silly tune even on the ride back home. The point is, he was not pleased, and like the love-struck puppy you were, you didn’t register his loud sigh or the way he dropped his bag on the floor, instead, you chose to slide his swivel chair to him, smiling up at him and reaching for his hand, “Hey.”

“Hey,” he said before slipping his hand out of yours and going to his cupboard, all the while struggling to take off his sweatshirt and tossing it somewhere once he was done. He could hear the squeak of the wheel as he turned around and looked at you, taking in the way you were pouting at him, somewhere deep down he found you adorable, but on the surface, he really couldn’t deal with you right now- he just wanted to be alone. Moving around you, he went back out of the room, leaving you confused and a bit hurt. It wasn’t like Wooyoung to react like this, to completely leave you hanging. Sure, he had moments where his social battery would run out, when he’d just come to her apartment and lay on her bed, idly scrolling on his phone, just making enough space for her, when she’d come and lay with him, letting her snuggle into his while he continued doing what he was quietly, neither saying a word- but he had never ignored her.

He looked tired…like he was tired of her? Shaking your head at the thought, you instantly thought of ways to make him feel better, considering his flatmates were outside and he was still in the shower (probably), you looked around his room, you could tidy it up, and you did, and once you were done, you picked up his jacket to hang it in his cupboard only to frown at the mess inside; hang clothes, fold them neatly, align the shoes- as long as Youngie Is less stressed and feels better, that was your goal.

By the time you were done, it had already been an hour. You were hanging the last jacket when the man walked back in, staring at you with the same unreadable expression, completely ignoring your cute smile, watching as you closed the cupboard. You were about to ask him what was bothering him when he tossed the wet towel on the chair and walked out of the room again, but this time you trailed after him, asking him all sorts of questions, just to get him to finally say something.

“How was your day?”

“Fine.”

He walked into the kitchen, you just followed.

“Did you take a rest between practice?”

“Yeah.”

He opened the fridge to take out last night’s pizza, well, this was it then, he turned around and almost cursed, she was standing there with a plate for him. He took it, mumbling a thanks, before putting it in the microwave. Standing there, arms crossed as he glared at the device to bloody hurry up.

“How was the photoshoot?”

“Fine. Nothing new.”

“I brought face masks, wanna wear one later?”

“No.”

“Oh,okay …I got my bonus today.”

“Great.”

“Wanna spend it with me on cute things?”

“No.” he mumbled, “Invest it.” he sighed, before opening the microwave, taking the plate and turning around, only to sigh when he saw her holding a chair out for him, pouting when he frowned at her. Truth be told, he’d never reacted like this, she wasn’t sure what to do? He’d often match her energy- or ‘her freak’, as he’d say. Maybe being nice to him would make him feel better? She sat down on the chair beside him, facing him, though he just started to eat quietly, not really saying anything.

“You want some tea?”

“No.”

“Oh…” you mumbled, looking at your lap, taking a moment to think, before looking up at him, again, watching him take a bite, he was chewing quietly when you gently reached over to tuck some of the stray wet strands behind his ear- though he didn’t seem pleased, in fact, he just let out an irritated huff and turned his head to look at you. You quickly recoiled, mumbling an apology, new tactic, stay quiet, maybe just staying by him would make him feel better. Therefore, you watched him go about his business, watching him wash the plate and put it on the rack before going out of the kitchen.

He finally sat down in front of the TV, rubbing his aching neck, waiting for the damn thing to turn on when he felt the sofa dip, feeling her sitting close to him. He side eyed her before putting on a game, whatever, he’d watch the match on repeat. Hunched forward, elbows on his knees, frowning as he stared at the screen. Okay, so she said she wouldn’t touch him, but if he was in pain, maybe she could help out, massage his shoulders or neck? She moved closer to him, enough for her fingers to graze his arm, “Youngie… you need me to massage it?”

“What I need is for you to not act like an attention deprived clingy girlfriend for a while.”

She froze at his words, slowly watching him get up and walk away mumbling something else about wanting to be left alone, or how he never had a moment of peace- honestly it didn’t matter anymore, his previous sentence had done enough damage. If he wanted to be left alone so be it, she was going to give him exactly what he wanted. Once she heard the door slam shut she sniffled, finally letting the fat tears roll down her flushed cheeks, wiping her nose with the back of her sleeve, his words kept repeating in her mind, over and over again. Without glancing at the time, she decided to go to the only place she'd be able to cry in peace, without giving him the satisfaction of the hurt of his words- that and she wanted to fulfil his wish, she was going to give him some peace and quiet.

Slamming the door shut behind him he mumbled something about being smothered by her as he flopped down on the bed, turning to the side to face the wall as he huffed, closing his eyes. Moments passed but sleep was not something he was blessed with, instead he kept on tossing and turning, finally turning to other side, often her side, of the bed, glaring at it. Why wasn't she here? she’s the one who wanted to spend time with him, rudely showing up here unannounced, interrupting his normal routine, talking away when he was eating, even offering to massage his neck. Was she a masseuse!?

With a huff he sat up and glared around the room, spotting her pink small suitcase, neatly placed at the corner of the room. His eyes flickered to the desk, organised and clean. On it where a variety of neatly stacked face masks, some nail polishes and her makeup pouch. Sliding off the bed, he walked out of the room, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants as he continued grumbling. Granted he was still annoyed but he did need her to sleep and- where was she?

Confused, he looked around the living room, then walked into the kitchen, wondering if she was making tea. She was nowhere in sight. He made his was down the hall to look for her in the washroom, knocking when the door wouldn't open, “You in there?”

“Yes, now scram.”

Ignoring Jongho he walked back into his room, perhaps she had gone back into the room- the panic was beginning to settle in as he slammed open the door to be met with a clean room. Shit. Shit, shit, shit! Where did she go?! His panic began to morph into guilt once the memories of his behaviour with her began to play at the back of his mind.

“Cupcake!?”

Grabbing his phone he went through his contact, tapping on her contact ID 🧚‍♀Bby Gurl🧚‍♀️. He pressed the phone against his ear, chewing on his lower lip as he waited for her to pick up, but when he heard the muffled sound of her ringer coming from her PURSE!? Cue Wooyoung going into full panic mode as he ran to her purse, flipping it over on his desk, staring at the phone. Shit. Where did she go?! It was- oh hell no, it was 2 am. He wracked his brain for what could he have said, it was something mean, but truth be told he didn't remember- a toxic trait, he knows, and he's not proud of it, especially since he used it to hurt her.

Deciding it was time to find her, he opened his cupboard to take out a jacket, only to feel his gut clench…she had organised his cupboard too. What the hell Wooyoung? She wasn't your maid, she was only being nice to you! The image of her small frown flashed before his eyes as he zipped up his jacket. He grimaced at the thought of tone he had used with her, how he had ignored her when she tried to touch him, since when he was against skinship? Pulling the door open he came face to face with none other than-

“Mind telling me why I found her crying in the parking lot?”

“Hongjoong move I- What?” his eyes almost popped out of their sockets as he saw his girl standing there behind Hongjoong, staring at the ground with bloodshot eyes.

“I- HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND!?”

You flinched at his tone, whining and hiding behind the man who had spent almost an hour trying to convince you to come back to the apartment. Hongjoong was parking his car when he saw someone sitting there on the concrete ground, next to a very familiar car. You hadn’t said much to him, only that you left your keys upstairs and if he could be kind enough to get them- he wasn’t an idiot, one look at your pink nose and puffy eyes, he knew this had Wooyoung written all over it. Hence, he had to spend an hour trying to convince you to at least come upstairs, it was already too late to go back home.

“Wooyoung.” the older one warned, eying his bandmate who could only sigh and nod, letting him know that his defences were down and he was no longer in the mood for hurting her in any manner, in fact, he wanted nothing more to apologize and beg for her forgiveness. Though, perhaps that’s not how Hongjoong saw it, for he let the girl go into her boyfriend’s room before closing the door so he could have a heart-to-heart talk with this moron.

Once the door closed you walked over to your makeup pouch, taking out your wet wipes and removing the mascara and makeup that had smeared because of all the crying. You quickly changed your clothes, glancing at the door every five seconds in case he was coming in, you were in no mood to talk to him. As soon as you were done you turned off the lights- yeah, you wanted him to trip and land on his stupidly handsome face- and jumped onto the bed, cocooning yourself in his blanket. No, you did not plan on sharing it, though the fact that you were now surrounded by him had a very paradoxical effect; on one hand, you were extremely furious at the man, wanting nothing more than to avoid him for the rest of your life, on the other hand, being surrounded by his being, in his sheets, made you feel safer, made you feel warmer, you liked it- you hated it- you liked it- you hated it- you loved him.

Yet, for some unforsaken reason, he thought shaking you awake from a blissful slumber would be a wonderful idea. As soon as Hongjoong was done with his lecture, he slipped back into the room to talk to her but found her asleep. A part of him wanted her to rest, especially when he removed the blanket from her face, sighing in guilt as he noticed how tired she looked, her brows furrowed even in her sleep- no, he wasn't going be one of those couples that went to bed after a fight.

Her world shook as she gasped, hand grabbing whatever was shaking her, until she flung the hand off her shoulder and turned to the other side mumbling, “Stop it…I'm tired.”

“And I'm sorry.”

You had heard him loud and clear, you even her the guilt in his tone, but did you care? No. you weren't going to be a clingy deprived girlfriend, so you did what he wanted, and ignored him as you closed your eyes again. Trying to ignore him when he apologised again, this type pressing his cheek against yours, rubbing it against yours, and throwing his leg over yours, basically laying half on top of you, “I really am sorry.”

With a huff you shoved him off and sat up, back against the headrest as you glared at him with your arms crossed, cheeks puffed out and-

Oh my god, Wooyoung, she’s pouting. He internally screamed, taking in your droopy eyes, your puffed out rosy cheeks and the way you were pouting- his cutie really was something. He tried to reach for your cheek but you slapped his hand away, causing him to yelp and frown, “I am apologising here.”

“Don’t talk to me, you’re horrible and mean! I just wanna go to sleep, stop pretending you like me!”

Horrible and mean…well, he’s heard worse, so he’d take it. He was mean to you, incredibly mean, and his attitude towards you was horrible. You were right about that, but you were terribly wrong about the last part. Extremely wrong, if he says so himself.

He looked at her intently, almost too intently, and he figured out he’d been giving her the ‘I’m a bastard’ stare when her form, faltered, her eyes began to water, as she bit her lip and broke the stare off, instead, dipping her head in shame like she was the one who was at fault here. Man, what was wrong with him today?

Her grip tightened on the cotton, pulling the blanket closer as if it were to bring her some form of comfort, if he wanted to break up with her that was fine, she just never thought her first break-up would be this nasty. She had mentioned a few times to him how this was her first relationship and although he seemed a bit hesitant, he had explained to her how his job made certain normal couple activities difficult for him sometimes, and if she’d want their relationship to flourish, she’d have to accept this fact. And she did, everything was fine, it was all going well, then what could she have possibly done for him to lash out at her like that? Maybe she was never cut out for this-

“That’s not true…” he whispered, placing his hands on hers, slowly unclenching her fists, his grip tightening on her hands when he heard her whimper, frowning at the way she hiccupped an apology again, looking up at him this time, as if she were trying to cling onto something that had slipped through her fingers. “That’s not true…and that’s not right,” with a heavy sigh he pulled her closer, wrapping her arms around his neck, manoeuvring them, till he was in her position, and now she was on his lap, arms around his neck, clinging onto him, dampening his shirt as loud sobs wracked through her petite frame, mumbling nonsense that he couldn’t interpret, “And…I’m sorry I made you think like that today.” Gently, he pressed his lips against her head, rubbing her back in a soothing motion, slowly giving her a squeeze every so often, pulling her closer, if possible. By the time she had calmed down, a bit, he slowly pushed her off his chest so he could look at her, but she never met his gaze, causing him to gently grip her chin, making her look up at him, “Hey…don’t look away,” he smiled at her, “Don’t hide that pretty face from me.” His smile faltered when he noticed her lower lip tremble, sighing as he cupped her face with both hands, “I am truly, extremely sorry for what I did and said today,” leaning closer he pressed his lips against her forehead, “Nothing I said or did today was triggered because of you being here- there is no explanation for my behaviour other than the fact that I handled my emotions poorly, and took it all out on that one person,” he paused to give her a smile, especially when he felt her grip tighten on his shirt, “the only person, who is concerned about my wellbeing and livelihood, and wants nothing but my love in return.”

“Woo…” she sniffed, pouting at him as she tugged on his shirt, “What made you so upset today?”

He could chuckle at the way she was still worried about him, of course, leave it to his little love bug to be more concerned about ‘why’ he did what he did, just as soon as he apologises. Shaking his head in disbelief he booped her nose, shrugging, “Never mind that, do you want something to eat? I’ll whip up something real good, an apology feast for my lovely pookie.” His laugh bounced off the walls of his room once he noticed her visibly cringing at the nickname, “No? Well, how about I make sweet love to you, enough to have you screaming for more-” her hands clasped over his mouth, muffling his stupidity as she sighed in relief, resting her forehead against and closing her eyes to recover from the blush.

When she felt him tap her waist she moved her hands and sighed, “Just hold me close.”

“Well, don’t need to ask me twice.” Wooyoung declared before pushing her off him cackling when he heard her squeak, wiggling her eyebrows at her, admiring how she almost bounced on his bed, before laying down, pulling her closer. His smile widened when she snuggled into him, gripping onto the back of his shirt, before her lips gently pressed against his skin, admiring the warmth, basking in his presence. He pulled up the blanket, covering them both, before placing his chin on top of her head, sighing in relief, trying to rid of the bad memories of the day. Letting the tranquil love envelope the two, enjoying just being there…that is until a soft whisper broke the silence, followed by another;

“Make it up to me tomorrow.”

“I’ll make it up to you for the rest of your life”

Choi Jongho

Okay, yes, he was a bastard, he was well aware of that, but right now, the charming man had something else on his mind. What you ask, oh its simple, it was the same question almost every guy in the world had, the same dilemma every man in the world suffers through, an event every man self-induces; the, ‘How do I make my girlfriend feel better after I brought up her insecurities’. Now, one may wonder, what did this sweet little lad do? How could he possibly manage to upset his girl, his daisy, his lover, his sweety- well, it all started when he came down with a little cold, and the dictator Kim Hongjoong banned him from the studio and the dorm, which meant there would be no one acting at his every whim, hence, the little lad had to go to the next best thing, go to the only person who made his heart flutter like he just devoured some mentos after chugging a cola- his girlfriend.

It all started fine, with you opening the door, ready to go for a nightly jog when you saw your cute boy standing at the door, with his nose all pink and stuffy and his pout making your heart clench. Next thing he knew he was pulled inside and tucked into your fluffy, soft bed, being taken care of like there was no tomorrow. You were kind and sweet and ever caring, you’d always been like that, even before the two had started dating.

You were so kind to him that you actually had the poor boy chasing you for almost a year. Now why is that one may wonder, simple, you were older than him- two years to be precise. The two of you had met by complete accident, you were out for your nightly jog and you had somehow managed to trip on the cracked footpath. Honestly you had thought no one was around so you hobbled to the nearest bench, trying to untie your shoe, when you heard someone clear their throat, causing you to freeze. He was big, you could tell and it wasn't just because of that hoodie and cap or mask- no, he looked borderline threatening. With an audible gulp you whispered, “Y-yes?”

“Do you need help with that?” He asked, lowering his mask a bit and standing up before crouching next to your foot, causing you to flinch and shake your head but he was already slipping it off your foot, trying to not react to your bright yellow, Pikachu themed sock.

“You should be careful” he mumbled, inspecting the damage, “I think you just sprained it, if you want I could take you to an ER near by-”

“No thank you!” You cut him off, he was cute, there was no doubt in that, he looked sweet but hey, he was a guy and he was a guy who looked big enough to kill yo-

“My name's Jongho.” He sighed, and looked around, before sitting next to her, “And you are, strange nighters jogger?”

You blinked at him and sighed out your name, before mumbling, “What's an Ateez member doing out here in the middle of the night?”

His blood ran cold at the mention of his band, causing him to slowly side eye her, though she looked as composed as ever, like she had just talked about the weather.

“I…uh-”

“Don't worry,” she mumbled, before sitting straight and stretching her, “Okay, I'm gonna go now.”

“Let me help you out.”

Honestly, the words had left him sooner than he could process them, his body had moved on its own, and in a matter of minutes she found herself sitting in an apartment she had never dreamt of before too, pressing an ice pack on her ankle, listening to Jongho and another man, Hongjoong battle it out.

“I’m sorry, but a random stranger?”

“Technically I see her jogging every day- or well at night.”

“So??”

“Technically she’s hurt.”

“Technically, Choi Jongho this isn’t a hospital.”

“Technically, it's rude to discuss someone in front of them, pretending they can’t hear you.”

That had led the older man to apologise and leave them alone. That very statement had led Jongho to believe that he had found someone who could ‘match his freak’. So, after a year of jogging with her, he had finally managed to woo her. He liked their dynamic, he was the eldest in his home, he was bossy and of course mature, hence, he had assumed he’d prefer someone younger than him, someone more timid and shy, someone who’d be impressed by him- though the only thing she was severely impressed with was his potential to snap several apples in half, which was great, because she loved eating apples and he loved snapping them in half- he loved you.

Then, how come, you were now sitting on the same bench, where you had met the moron, questioning your entire relationship- oh yeah, because when you forced him to drink his soup so he’d get better quicker, he decided to be a brat and snap at her;

“If I wanted to be coddled, I would’ve gone to my mom, you’re older, but not that old.”

Sure, leave it to Choi Jongho to bring up your insecurities because- well, not really, Jongho was often very sweet and considerate, he was attentive and mindful of both his actions, and his words, so if he had decided to let out something so bitter and rude, it really did mean he was sick. But did that make it any better? Did that mean he could just bring up something they’d discuss in the late hours of the night, alone with one another, surrounded by one another, vulnerable to one another. It was during these hours he had confessed how he was afraid she’d leave him for someone older, smarter, more mature, only for his whispers to turn into a snort when she told him how she was afraid that he’d leave her for someone younger than him, someone sweeter, and cuter, more shy and more timid. The two had slept better that night, snuggled up against each other, she loved how he had held her tighter than night, he had loved how she had let them sleep in the next morning, only to spend a few more minutes together.

So, no, he could not just say whatever he wanted because he was sick-

“You wanna get sick too?”

She flinched at the question, before letting out a small sigh at the familiarity of the voice, though she never turned to look at him, instead decided to leave.

He turned to glance at you when you had ignored him, only for him to panic when you stood up to leave, instinctively reaching over and gripping your wrist he met your cold glare. For once he felt as if being cute was not going to make the cut, that you were not going to ‘act mature’ or ‘overtly understanding’, for once, he was scared. Though his grip never faltered, instead, you heard a meek, “Please,” so soft that if the world around the two of you was not deathly silent, you would’ve missed it. With a sigh you sat back down, but kept your distance, choosing to stare at the empty park, rather than looking at your lover, who was scooting closer to you. You let him, you let him, till his arm brushed against yours, the two of you staring at the empty park together, both waiting for the other to speak- technically you were waiting for an apology, while he was waiting for you to give him the signal to speak, he was too afraid to say anything else which could be more stupid than his last statement.

So, like a pair of fools, the two of you sat there, out in the cold, silently, for god knows how long. Honestly, you were surprised with his patience sometimes, you were also a bit disappointed he chose not to speak, but then again since when was speaking about your feelings his or your strongest trait- oh shit.You gasped when you felt his head drop on your shoulder, suddenly turning to the man, cupping his cold cheeks, as you shook him, “Jongho? Jong? Jongho wake up, come on, this isn’t funny- shit.”

With a groan he turned to his side, snuggling closer to the source of the warmth- oh he was back in his bed. HE WAS BACK IN HIS BED?? Sitting up he looked around in the dimly lit room, noting how the door was slightly open, deciding to go outside to look for her when she walked in holding a tray, eying him before mumbling something about laying back down. Honestly, it was difficult for him to process whatever she was saying next…he remembered fainting, well, actually he felt sleepy so he had just closed his eyes for a moment, and right now, he was more amazed by the sheer physical strength this woman possessed. Lord forgive if she were to smack him, he would’ve needed facial reconstructive surgery.

You placed the tray on the nightstand, and turned to him, helping him sit up against the headboard, before checking his temperature with the back of your hand, “You fainted…I called Hongjoong, who then called San…apparently you’re very difficult to carry.” You mumbled, moving to grab the tray, placing it on his lap, “Chicken soup, will help with the congestion and-”

“I’m sorry.”

“You better be.”

He blinked at her and nodded slowly before looking at the soup and staring at it, a moment had slipped before he chuckled, turning to look at her, admiring how she was now sitting on her side of the bed, facing him, “I thought you carried me here- was so scared if you were actually to smack me, I’d pass away.”

“Is this your way of apologising to me? Maybe I should be looking for guys my age or older” you frowned, only to end up snorting when you saw his eyes widen in fear, taking in the way he had stopped eating, staring at you like he was about to explode. Honestly, you wanted to let it simmer for a while, but when he whispered out your name, the way his voice cracked had you sighing in defeat, moving the tray off him and placing it at a safe distance, before you were tackled by him. His arms tightened around you, face buried in your neck as he mumbled something, which you couldn’t make out, but you presumed it was an apology, considering how your neck felt wet- oh no he was crying- well, didn’t mean to take it that far. Gently patting his head you slid down into the sheets, taking him with you, though he didn’t really do anything but hold you closer, his little sniffles making your heart ache.

“It was a joke…” sighing you kissed the top of his head, “I didn’t mean it…but at least now you know how I felt.”

He pulled back a little to glare at you, “It’s not funny, you can pull anyone you want, I only managed to date you because you tripped.”

“That’s because I fell for you, baby bear-hey!”

“And the moment is gone.” he mumbled, pushing her away and laying on his back, clearing his throat, “Got more sick after that pick up line,” he felt her snuggle next to him as he smiled with his eyes closed, “Even more gross how I like it.”

“You like being sick?”

“Only if it means spending time with you.”

“Oh good, because my head hurts and I can feel the flu comin’ up.”

“Don’t worry, I know how to treat my lady right.”

Taglist: @edenesth @skteezcursed @mlysalt @the-kpop-simp @spooo00oky @bunnyluvr25 @s-h-y-a @ateezswonderland

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gilverrwrites · 5 months ago

Text

Summer Loving

Ft. Bruce, Dick, Jason, Roy, & Tim.

AN: Have a lot of lengthy and/or smutty wips on the go atm and I can feel them bogging me down a bit, so I decided to take a break and work on some short summer themed slice of life/domestic fluff to cleanse my palate. I feel I must apologise for my gratuitous and obvious Roy Harper thirst but I wont, enjoy!

CWs: Some are more suggestive than others, reader discretion advised. Minor swearing and minors swearing, mentions of alcohol. GN! Reader

Bruce: Tan Lines

It’s moments like these where you wish Bruce didn’t have to spend his nights on the endless pursuit of justice. You knew what you’d signed up for, but you’d missed him all day and god, the feel of his strong fingers massaging after sun into your skin was euphoric. Would you be such a bad guy for trying to convince him to stay home?

“I like this.” His hum pulls you from your train of thought, and you look down to see his fingers trailing against the tan line your shorts had caused. He spares you a quick suggestive glance, the look a wolf might give a rabbit it’s particularly fond of before dipping down to replace his hands with his mouth.

“Ohhh, stay home tonight Brucie?” The look he gives you this time maintains its warmth but there’s an air of warning to it. Despite his simmering combativeness, you add a charming “Please?”

To that he lifts his head, just far enough to deny you of his lips, but close enough that his low voice still seems to reverberate through your body as he speaks. “Crime doesn’t take the night off, neither can I.”

“I know.” You sigh, admitting defeat before the battle has even begun, and he rewards you by assuming his barrage of kisses to your lower body.

“Just don’t go out too early.” You advise, trailing the tip of your finger from ear to ear, estimating the line where his Batman cowl ends. “Don’t want to get any tan lines of your own.”

“Trust me.” There’s humour in his tone now as he works his way upwards, ghosting his 5 o'clock shadow along the skin of your stomach as he prowls closer. “The evening is young, and I have plans for you yet.”

Dick: A/C

The A/C is broken. Again. To combat the heat the whole household has resorted to wearing nothing but their underwear, except of course for Haley who is always naked. Lucky dog.

Additionally, all the windows are open in an attempt to let the cool night air circulate the humid apartment but all it’s really doing is letting in the ambient sound of Blüdhavens boisterous nightlife and countless flies.

“Want one?” Dick asks from the kitchen spaces as he digs into his second ice pop since dinner, you joke about envying his metabolism despite knowing damn well that’s not the real reason for his physique. Although between the food and the heat-induced skipped workout, he’s bloating, just a little bit; the tiniest, most delicious bit of plumpness and you can’t take your eyes off of it. “Are you checking me out?”

“Always.” You reply with a brazen smile, continuing your laser-focused stare even as he begins approaching your spot on the couch.

“How about you stop looking and start touching, huh baby?”

“No.” You finally cease your objectification of his stomach to look him in the eyes. The intended sternness in your tone is stifled by the way his icy confection has turned his lips blue. “I already told you, no sex in this heat until the air con is fixed.”

Despite your posturing, you don’t fight his closing proximity, nor do you stop him from dragging his cool-raspberry-stained tongue along the length of your throat, it’s still cold from the half-eaten lolly and the sensation sends a welcome chill through your body. As inefficient as it may be, you much prefer this method of cooling down to an A/C.

Jason: Sunrise

The metal grate of your fire escape is surprisingly cool against your bare feet. It’s early, pre-sunrise early but the air is still thick, a combination of the arid summer heat and steam of the cities underground. Despite the unpleasant temperature, you settle onto the grill, with nothing but a pillow for comfort and two ice-cold glasses of lemonade.

When 15 minutes pass, and you start to notice a growing tinge of orangeness in the sky, you start to worry you’re being stood up, or worse; something awful has happened. Something that would prevent him from coming home, but then you hear it; The heavy steps of Jason’s steel-toed boots approaching from your apartment’s rooftop.

You glance up just in time to see him dropping down. A loud clang rings out as he hits the floor, causing the whole structure to vibrate and you wonder if he does that every night, surely not, there’s no way you could sleep through it or that your neighbours wouldn’t complain.

“Aren’t you sweating balls?” You ask, taking in his gear as he sits down beside you. The boots, the cargo pants, turtleneck, jacket, gloves, and the full-face mask.

“Nah.” His voice is muffled by the headpiece until he takes it off, shaking his head to support his answer. “It’s weird but I’ve kinda run cold ever since I died, you know?”

Obviously you don’t know, in fact having felt his searing, naked skin pressed to yours on multiple occasions, you highly doubt him, but you nod regardless and hand him his drink. Unlike a man on the chilly side, he chugs half of the icy drink in one go and you wonder if he’ll ever stop jumping from buildings and telling white lies to impress you.

“Want some help warming up?” Before he can respond you lean up, brushing your nose against his and watching as his lids flutter closed in anticipation, his breath is cool on your lips and when you finally press into them you can taste nothing but the tartness of the lemonade. Regardless, it’s heavenly; soft and tender. Every kiss with Jason makes your heart flutter in the same way it had the first time.

When he pulls away you chase after him, eyes only opening to meet his heterochromatic irises when your pursuit for more becomes an abundant failure.

He’s grinning as he tells you; “We’re missing the sunrise.”

“I don’t care.” You answer, trying again, and this time succeeding in drawing him in for another kiss.

Roy: Paddling Pool

If ever anybody asked you to describe a moment of pure domestic bliss, this moment would be a strong contender. Your lower body is submerged in a paddling pool as you bask in the sun, enjoying the occasional splash of water caused by Lian’s uncoordinated but enthusiastic dancing beside you. She too is basking, but hers is under an endless stream of hose water being directed by her father; Roy, who is watching the two of you from a sun lounger, hosepipe in one hand and a non-alcoholic beer in the other.

He's quite the vision, no shoes, no shirt, just tastefully tacky swim trunks and his iconically worn-out grey baseball cap that may be protecting his head, but is doing little to tame his mop of fiery hair. From this angle, you’ve got a great shot of some of his lesser-seen tattoos, but every time you look over at him you find yourself far more smitten with the countless freckles that adorn his chest and shoulders, made darker and more noticeable by the recent heatwave.

“How’s the Heineken?” You ask, genuinely curious how he’s enjoying his first taste of alcohol-free booze.

“Crap.” He replies, lips briefly curving into a self-amused smirk before dropping to woefully panicked as you both turn to look at Lian. Luckily, she doesn’t seem to have been listening in, content in her own toddler babblings. Relieved, he turns his attention back to you and corrects himself. “Um, not good babe.”

“That sucks. I’m sorry.” You offer your condolences, but he seems completely unbothered.

Instead, he turns the glass bottle around in his hands a few times before chucking it over his shoulder. It sails through the air before seamlessly landing in the open bin by your backdoor. Your concern about it leaking into the rest of the recycling is seconded by how impressed you are. It doesn’t seem to matter how many times his trick-shot hit, you’re always at least a little bit captivated by his impeccable aim.

“It’s cool, hon.” He shrugs and leans back into the lounger. His eyes flicker back and forth between you and his child, a slow, contented smile spreading across his face. “Got everything I need right here.”

Bonus:

Hours later, you’re sorting through the soggy contents of the recycling as Roy scoops Lian up in his arms and takes her sleepy frame inside. The sun is still high and bright, but it’s past her bedtime, and it’s been a long, exciting day for her. He dries her with the softest towel he can find, careful to pat down every pruned finger and toe before putting her to bed.

“How was your day, sweetie?” He asks, strong fingers petting her soft hair to help soothe her to sleep.

“Crap!”

Tim: Ice Cream

Tim is still sleeping off a rough, muggy night of crime fighting as you circumnavigate the boat's sad excuse for a kitchen. The bags under his eyes had been growing darker each day under the stress of hunting down a mysterious new bank robber. You’d hoped to lift his spirits by surprising him with a tub of homemade ice cream, but so far all you’d managed to make is a mess.

After having a falling out with the thrifted ice cream maker you’d stuffed in the back of a cupboard months ago, you settled for hand mixing. By the time you put the concoction in the freezer to set, your wrists are aching, and Tim has begun to stir. You’re just finishing up the dishes you’d created when he finally emerges from the bedroom in shorts, flip-flops, and a not-so-summer-appropriate hoodie.

Before you can offer a ‘good morning, Timmybear’ his arms are around your waist, pulling you close from behind and settling the weight of his sleepy head on your shoulder.

“What’s this?” He asks and then he’s licking what you can only assume is a stray splash of the mixture from your cheek with the bravery only a man raised by Batman could possess. It could have been literally anything. “Banana?”

“Chunky monkey actually.” Goddamn. Surprise ruined in less than a minute. Oh well, at least you can give him something to look forward to. “Don’t worry, I didn’t get ice cream without you, I made it for you.”

“I figured.” He hums, sounding so very drowsy despite the ease with which he manoeuvres your body against the kitchen counter so he can keep you close while brewing his morning tea, occasionally planting soft kisses to the side of your neck as his hands move absentmindedly. “You’re the best, you know that? Can’t wait to try it.”

“You figured? How did you figure?” You skip right past the justified praise; he’d been practically comatose since 4 AM, how could he have figured?

“It’s on the ceiling.” He’s right, you look up to see a cream-soaked walnut lodged above you and let out a dramatic sigh as you fall deeper into Tim's arms.

Taglist: @wandalfnation

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sweetestcaptainhughes · 3 months ago

Note

Ooh for your drabble challenge:

125. “Quit moving, I’m trying to sleep. Wait...are you...what?!”

Angsty!! -> 🙈 and with Nico Hischier. Please and thank you! 🩵

ooo of course I love writing some angst and I don't ever remember writing angst for Nico yet... I am truly sorry this took me an embarrassing amount of days to answer. 😔Also this turned out so much longer than I thought it would but I kind of like the background I gave the prompt.

Drabble Challenge. Drabble Masterlist.

"Quit moving, I'm trying to sleep. Wait... are you... what?!"

Sharing a bed with Nico Hischier was not something you were planning on doing when you agreed to go on this weekend getaway with your best friend. But little did you know that everyone but you and Nico were the only two single people in the group. Of course they only room left in the house in your air bnb by the time you got there was a makeshift office with a small twin bed in the corner. So now here you were sharing a bed with Nico, who just so happened to be your friend's partner's best friend who also happened to your ex-boyfriend.

Once you both made it into the tiny office/spare bedroom, immediately the words left your mouth, "Uh I can sleep on the coach in living room downstairs." Already turning around with your hand still on your luggage as you start to turn around but Nico lightly grabs your arm to stop you.

"Stop, You're not sleeping down there Y/N that room is full of windows and the light will wake you up tomorrow morning or literally anyone going to the bathroom in the middle of the night." His voice soft, almost pleading for you not to leave him in this room by himself.

Sighing deeply, closing your eyes for a few seconds the exhaustion of traveling creeping in on you slowly, all you were craving was somewhere to sleep. "Fine." you grunt, taking a deep breath you continue. "I'll sleep on the floor in here."

After being with him, you can translate the curse words that leave his mouth in Swiss German. Something along the lines of 'goddamn me, bullshit.'

"So what's your idea then?" The irritation clear in your voice.

"I am not letting you sleep on the floor Y/N/N." His voice more defined from earlier, the stubbornness clear in his voice now. You can physically see him take a shaky breath as his voice cracks due to nerves as he suggests "We can share a bed?"

Finally making eye contact with him for the first time since entering the room, your face full of shock at his suggestion. But all you see starring back at you is his soft big brown eyes begging you to stay. "It's a twin Neeks." you whisper suddenly scared of making your voice any louder.

"I know. But were both tired and we don't have any other options. Can we just go to bed please." he begs lightly reaching for your hand and it was as if as soon as his hand lightly creased yours, you were back in time to six months ago before you both decided you needed space because neither of you had time due to your careers to be in a committed relationship. And in that moment, you felt your heart break a little and your pulse quicken. "Please baby." Nico begged the nickname rolling of his tongue so naturally, your not even sure if he heard it himself.

But in an attempt to protect yourself you find your arguing even though your voice was above a whisper as you close your eyes. "We have other options Nico. You just don't like them." Opening them again after a few seconds you meet his face again and you knew there was no other option, you were about to share a twin size bed with your 6'1 ex boyfriend Nico. "okay." you admit in defeat, you swear for a second you saw a smile on his lips as he slowly pulls you to the bed and climbs in first putting his back against the wall, laying on his side.

It wasn't an ideal situation, deciding it was best to let lay on your side facing away from Nico trying not to touch him despite having no space. Apparently Nico had different plans when you felt his arms circle around your waist pulling you so your back was flesh to his chest. He did it so fast, as i it was second nature, an instinct taking over. Nico was asleep in no time, he use to claim he always was with you in his arms, and you could tell he was asleep by the little breaths he was leaving on the back of your shoulder where his head was tucked down. Sadly for you, sleep didn't come as easily it was if your brain and your heart were having an internal battle on what was happening. Trying not to focus on how safe you felt being back in his arms because this was a one night thing, trying to remind yourself the reality of the situation.

Somewhere around 3 AM you fell asleep, but you didn't sleep long as you look at the clock and see it was just a little after 5 AM. Your not sure if it's from Nico's body heat or just the fact of sharing such a small bed. But you felt hot and sticky all of a sudden. Trying to carefully remove Nico's arms off of you so that you could attempt to get comfortable and all fall back asleep for a few more hours. But there was no hope when you felt Nico whine behind you due to the movement.

"Quit moving, I'm trying to sleep." he whined pulling you closer and shifting back to both of your orginial sleeping position. In an insenence Nico felt it his entire body stiffened and opened his eyes in fear begging that you won't say anything about his morning wood but his fear was coming true when you asked.

"Wait." you said trying to decide if you felt his hard cock poking into your lower back or if you were making it up, but when you were sure you knew you were right you gulped and whispered. "Nico are you?" Slowly waiting a response you knew Nico was embarrassed, he let go of your arms and tried to turn his body to face towards the wall but wasn't as fast as you. Quickly you turned around in his arms lightly grabbing his forearm and lightly whispered his name again trying to meet his eyes. "Nico, look at me."

He paused in his movements in a few seconds he slowly looked down at you and asked "what?"

"It's okay baby, I miss you too." Not sure if your words would even make sense to anyone else but you knew Nico would understand. Breaking up was the hardest thing either of you ever had to do. "Nico I miss you with every fiber of my being and I think it's kind of hot that I gave you morning wood without even trying." you smirk at him. In an instant he closed the gap between you both into a messy kiss pulling you to lay on top of him. Neither of you knew what this meant but you knew one thing, whatever the next step was both of you were doing it together.

#nico hischier blurb #nico hischier imagine #nico hischier x reader #nico hischier smut #nico hischier fluff #nico hischier x y/n #nico hischier fic #nico hischier #new jersey devils fanfic #new jersey devils imagine #drabble collection #schwritingsnh13

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discordantwritings · 6 months ago

Text

Practice Makes Perfect (Katakuri x Reader)

Warnings: gn AFAB! Reader, Reader is normal human size, virgin! Katakuri, some feelings, size difference, big giant ass size difference, it’s basically monsterfucking, oral, premature ejaculation, grinding, frottage

WC: 5.2k

Summary: Katakuri is worried about his lack of experience in the bedroom should he get married off by his mother. You, a kind and concerned friend, are here to help him out.

Notes: this was supposed to be just a little warm up……. Oh well

Tagging: @keiva1000

While neither of you nor Katakuri would say it out loud you were both the closest thing either of you had to a friend. You didn’t verbalize it since it would be improper- you were one of the few high ranking pirates in the Big Mom Pirates that wasn’t a part of the family so you knew your position was precarious. Katakuri had his reputation to think of so you never blamed him for his occasional distance. But in the precious moments you two got alone, both of you relaxed just a little bit.

Like now.

“And that’s all the reports from the morning. Any news from your breakfast with Big Mom?” You sat on the edge of Katakuri’s desk, the only spot in his office that made it so neither of you had to strain your neck to look at each other.

“No new movements of changes to current plans.” Katakuri answers, his slightly muffled voice through his scarf as always but there was something in the way he answered that gave you pause.

“Was there something else?” You know how much he loves his mom- but everyone knows that she can be beyond overbearing.

“She says she wants me to be happy.” Katakuri sighs and you immediately understand the situation.

Everyone knows Big Mom is obsessed with growing her family. And while Katakuri is spared some of the overbearing pushing of his mother due to how much responsibility he took on- Big Mom still wants to see her darling commander in a happy relationship. But for someone like Katakuri finding someone casually isn’t an option and you know how long he’s been pushing back from an arranged marriage.

“Well, it might be nice?” You offer, but you both can easily tell you’re just trying to make him feel better.

“It’s not like I don’t want something like that…” He pulls on the overlap of his scarf, securing it even further on his face. “I just don’t want to force someone to be with me.”

“I know it’s not a great situation but anyone would be lucky to be married to you.” You offer him a reassuring smile. “You’re one of the kindest people I know. I’m sure you would make a wonderful husband.”

It isn’t until you see a blush creep over the edge of his scarf that you realize you might have gone a little too far. It was all honest- perhaps too honest- but you should know better than to be so upfront with him. Despite his cold exterior he’s incredibly soft underneath and the few times you’ve complimented him he’s practically ran away.

“Ah- well-“ You watch him flounder and decide to help out.

“I mean all of your siblings who have had their marriages arranged and that’s worked out pretty well for them! Sure it might take some getting used to but this is a really nice place to live.” You take the heat off of him and watch him relax a bit, still buried more than usual in his scarf.

“I guess…” From his voice you can tell there’s a bit more going on but you decide not to push him just yet.

“Well I have to get going and take these reports but I’ll be back later for the evening debrief?” You grab the reports sized for normal humans and slide off his desk, landing with a small thud.

“Yes, of course.” You can’t see his mouth but you can see the smile in his eyes as you wave goodbye.

You don’t stop thinking about Katakuri having an arraigned marriage for the rest of the day. Big Mom has clearly been bringing it up more recently and as much as you also wanted him to be happy you couldn’t help but feel a certain sadness whenever it was brought up. He was the one person you felt even remotely comfortable around and him getting a partner might disrupt the small world the two of you shared.

Of course, you couldn’t have a crush on your commander. There’s few things that would be worse than that. It would be catastrophic if you pictured yourself with him, spending time in his large embrace, sharing food, seeing what was under that scarf…

So, of course, those are things that are not happening. And even if they were to happen it’s unrealistic for so many reasons. Not only the fact that he was a commander but- well- he was big and you were not. Sometimes you forget that you’re an average size person when you spend your days with the Charlotte family. There’s no way Katakuri would want someone basically a third his size.

You though?

Well you wouldn’t mind being with someone basically triple your size.

It’s shameful the way your mind wanders when you look at his massive hands or the way you’re directly in eye line of his broad chest when you sit on his desk. The way he could overtake you in every sense of the word-

Your body had carried you back to Katakuri’s office for your evening debrief while your head swam with thoughts you quickly shoved deep down as you knocked on his door. Katakuri’s voice calls for you to come in and you really really hope observation haki can’t secretly be used for mind reading.

You take the ladder specifically set for you up to his desk, laying out the fresh reports for him. “Nothing noteworthy, just resupply requests and normal Marine movement.”

“Mhm…” Katakuri looks through the papers but you can tell his eyes are glazing over the words and not actually reading them.

“And tomorrow is a quiet day, just a few meetings that everyone will come to you for.”

“Ok.” He’s still staring at the paper that you know has no interesting information on it.

“Katakuri?”

“Mhm.”

“Katakuri!” You yell, not out of anger but just to get his attention- and it works.

“Ah- sorry- I was just… thinking.” He sets the papers down, adding them to a stack on the corner of his desk.

“You’re not still worried about this arranged marriage thing are you?”

“I… yes I am.” He admits, eyes looking shamefully to the side.

“We talked about this- I know it’s not the best but it’s not like you’ll be holding someone hostage.” You offer, sliding closer to him in an effort to get him to look at you.

“I understand that.” He sighs and finally glances back over to you.

“But?”

“But… it’s-“ He shakes his head and pulls up his scarf more. “Nevermind.”

“Katakuri.” You reach you and gently touch his forearm that’s laying on the desk next to you. “You can talk to me.”

You watch a blush creep up over his scarf at the touch but you don’t move your hand away. “It’s… I don’t want to be crass.”

Now that has you even more curious. “I won’t hold it against you. Besides, if it’s troubling you this much I want to help.”

“It’s- ah-“ He turns his gaze away again but does answer you. “I just have… no… experience.”

Ah.

Well.

Honestly, now that you’re thinking about it, it makes totally sense. Katakuri won’t even show his face to anyone and you’ve never seen him be casual with anyone besides very close family members or you. He was someone who took his duty very seriously so running off in his youth and having fun would be out of the question too.

“I’m sure the right person wouldn’t care about that.” You reassure him honestly.

“But there are certain expectations- and I can’t even be sure it would be the right person since I won’t have that much of a say-“ To hear a man of few words nervously ramble catches you off guard and makes you realize how painfully insecure he must be about this.

“Katakuri- hey-“ You lean into your hold on his arm.

“And- I mean there are only so many people in the world as tall as I am Mama was lucky enough to find people with comparable heights for everyone else but what if that isn’t an option-“

“There are ways to make it work.” Both of your hands are on his arm at this point, leaning to try and catch his gaze.

“And I could just accidentally hurt-“ He stops mid sentence as he processes what you said to him.

There a moment of painful silence as both of you catch up on your words. You’re probably blushing just as hard as Katakuri at this point, realizing where the conversation was headed.

“I mean- that-“ It was your turn to flounder, embarrassed that even a sliver of your thoughts had breached the surface. “There are… less than traditional ways to- never mind!”

You pat his arm and stand up, planning on leaving the desk and hoping you bash your head on the way down so you can forget this ever happened. However, as you’re about to do so Katakuri’s hand hovers in front of you, stopping you in your tracks. You don’t turn to look back at him but you can still hear him clearly.

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable but…” There’s a long pause and you turn to see him staring down at you, gaze surprisingly serious. “I would be indebted to you if you gave me some guidance.”

“Of course.” You answer before you can think yourself out of it. “What are friends for?”

There’s something that flashes behind his eyes at your words but you can’t read him before he’s awkwardly settling back into his hair and giving you space to sit down again. You sit back down, suddenly aware of just how hot your body has gotten.

It’s probably best to start easy. “So you haven’t- I mean I know you keep your face covered- have you ever kissed someone?”

“When I was really young, just some silly childhood stuff…” He’s back to not making eye contact with you, nose buried in the scarf. “But even kissing is…”

You’ve heard stories about what lays under his scarf- all sorts of tall tales that you’re sure aren’t true. You scoot closer to the edge of the desk.

“Can I see?” You ask softly- hopefully.

You watch his hand slowly creep up to his scarf, hesitating at the frayed edges. It’s unnatural to see him scared. You’ve watched him decimate hundreds of Marines without a change in expression- but here even you could notice the fear.

“Just don’t- please-“ You’re not sure what he’s asking but you nod knowing you would do anything for him.

He slowly pulls the scarf down and away from his face and it’s all too clear why he’s hidden that part of himself away. Large fangs rest at the corner of where his mouth should end but you see the thin line where his mouth continues close to his cheekbones. Despite how unnatural it is you can’t help but feel like it fits his face perfectly. The contrast of his pink blush against the sharp fangs is so perfectly him- nothing looks out of place. He’s watching your reaction closely, you can tell he’s using his observation haki from the way his eyes narrow but you don’t have to hide a single thing.

“Katakuri you’re perfect.”

You watch your honesty sink in with him, long moments of silence as he grows impossibly redder before he forces his gaze away to the ceiling.

“I guess- ah- well you can see why kissing would be a problem.” Thankfully he doesn’t move his scarf back up, content for now to tug at its ends nervously.

“Well…” You hum thoughtfully. “There would have to be some caution but I don’t think it’s a problem. Besides, if a person isn’t as big as you are then their mouth could fit right in between your bigger teeth.”

“I guess…” You watch him shift in his chair, occasionally glancing back over at you before refocusing back on a spot on the ceiling.

“So, see, nothing that can’t be worked around.” You nudge his knee with your foot, trying to make the air in the room less heavy.

“You’re right…”

There’s more quiet as the next part of the conversation looms, both of you knowing the real issues he was thinking about. You try not to be eager to talk about it, not wanting to push him too far and not wanting to come across as some pervert. You give him the space he needs and after a minute he speaks up again.

“I just don’t see a way around the… size problem.” His voice is quiet and breathy and you force yourself to ignore the heat rising in your stomach.

“There’s a lot that can be done without… insertion.” You cringe a little at your own word choice, but that was the least sexually charged term you could come up with.

“But I thought…” You see a small flash of embarrassed panic as his eyes dart back to you. “I mean- I’m aware of the other things! I just didn’t think that was, you know, enough…”

“It’s enough. More than enough if you know what you are doing.” Your gaze was locked on him and it seems like neither of you could look away anymore.

“Oh that’s… good to know. Very good.” You can feel your heartbeat in your ears as you fight to keep your face normal as he slowly responds. “I guess that I just… need to know what I’m doing.”

“And I’m sure that you would be receptive to learning.” You know that not all men are but you know that Katakuri would be.

“I like to think I would.”

The way he’s looking at you so intensely and speaking so softly- you throw caution to the wind.

“I can help you learn, if you want.”

“Please.” His response is so quiet you almost think you’re making it up in your mind but when his large hand softly runs over your leg you know it was real.

You nod, not trusting your voice in the moment as his hand travels to the outside of your thigh and his thumb rubs comfortingly into your side. He leans in, large face taking up your whole vision as he hesitates just a hair away from you.

“We should probably go to my room.” His breath fans over your face as he talks and you nod, even if your body is screaming that you need to touch him now. “Is it alright if I carry you?”

The idea makes you giddier than you care to admit. “I’d like that.”

He smiles down at you as he stands up, easily picking you up with one hand and holding you close to his chest. Instinctively you reach out to steady yourself against him, your hands finding his chest. Your face burns as you realize you’re practically groping his pec but that doesn’t stop you from leaning into his skin.

You’re thankful there’s no one in the halls between his office and his room, unsure how either of your would explain this situation. He quickly pushes into his room, locking the door behind him before gently setting you down on his large bed. As much as you try not to you’re right at eye level to stare at Katakuri’s crotch. His large bulge strains against his leather pants to the point it must be painful for him. Before you can fully process just how big his cock is you force your gaze up to his face where you find him watching you carefully. Smiling up at him you push yourself further up into the bed, settling your back against his large pillows.

“Come here.” You say softly and he follows your request automatically, crawling overtop of you.

You reach your hand up to hold his face and he leans into your hand. You don’t push him to go faster, letting him slowly adjust to your physical contact as he hovers above you, propped up on his elbows. His chest presses down into your legs, a comforting weight against your body.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks, full of sincerity.

You nod and he slowly moves down, hesitating just before his lips touch yours. From there you close the gap, gently pressing your lips to his. Your mouth fits snuggly between his fangs, only the smooth outsides press into your cheeks. Katakuri is frozen against your mouth and after a few second you pull away and look up at him with concern.

“If you don’t want-“ Before you can get the rest of your sentence out he surges back down, eagerly pressing his mouth to yours again.

He’s clumsy as moves his lips against yours but he more than makes up for it in how enthusiastic he is. Katakuri isn’t pushy though, letting you take the lead as you mouth molds to his. You take it slow and steady as he learns to match your motions. He’s a quick study though and the both of you easily transition to him being in control of the kiss. You don’t pull away until your lungs force you to, gasping as he nuzzles your nose with his.

After you catch your breath you press one more quick kiss to his mouth before speaking. “How do you feel about kissing now?”

His wide mouth cracks into a smile. “I think I like it but I’m not quite sure yet…”

You giggle as he captures your mouth in a kiss again, now more confident in his movements. You let your hands tangle in his hair as you lose yourself in the kiss. Eventually he releases your mouth to press more kisses into your jaw and neck. You can’t stop the breathy moan that eases out of your throat at his actions as your hands pull at his hair. He clearly hears you because he stops in his tracks, darkened eyes glancing back up to you.

“Tell me what to do next.”

You nearly faint at how sincere he is- but at the same time there’s a nagging thought in the back of your mind that you might be using him. “If you lay on your back I can-“

“Tell me how to please you.” He shifts so his weight is held by one elbow, large hand running down your side.

“You don’t have to do that.” You say, barely clinging onto your reservations.

“Please let me.” Fingers lay at the waist of your uniform and the last coherent thought flies out of your mind when he pushes your shirt up and kisses your stomach.

You lift your hips up to quickly shove your pants and underwear down to your thighs before Katakuri helps them the rest of the way, tugging them off your legs and discarding them. He moves down the bed slightly, large hand splayed over your left hip and thigh gently keeping your legs open. Your breath is heavy as he stares between your legs and you fight off the urge to be insecure.

“Tell me- show me-” His breath tingles on the soft skin inside your thighs.

You let one of your hands drift down your body and between your legs, fingers seeking out your folds. It’s no surprise to you just how wet you are as you use two fingers to push apart your folds, to show Katakuri what you’re doing. Your other hand follows and you use your pointer finger to slowly draw circles around your clit. A whine drags its way out of your throat, already so worked up and on edge.

Katakuri watches you in a trance, fingers digging into your skin on their own accord as you whine and moan at your own motions. Ready to take it further you use your hand previously holding your folds open to dip inside you, two fingers sliding in with no resistance.

“You don’t- fuck- you don’t have to be inside but a lot of people like a- a mixture of internal and external-“ You do your best to explain as you pump your fingers in and out of yourself, the lewd sound of your slick loud between your words.

“My fingers might be too big.” He’s not wrong as you watch them drift to the inside of your thigh and close to where you are working yourself.

“Don’t have to- you can use your mouth if you-“ Just the idea of him eating you out has your walls clenching around your fingers.

“Can I try- please-“ He sounds desperate, on the edge of begging you.

“Yes- fuck please-“

You let your hands drop as Katakuri uses his fingers to part your folds. His other hand maneuvers your legs up and around his face, your knees settling near his temples as he gets his mouth closer to where you need him. You watch his mouth split open and his tongue slip out, anticipation killing you as he moves slowly. Finally his tongue moves, the large muscle dragging a long stripe through your folds and up to your clit and you moan loud at the sensation. One of your hands grips into his hair as he repeats the motion, tongue digging deeper into your folds this time.

“Is that good- you taste good-“ He doesn’t even wait for your answer before he dives back in again, movements gaining confidence.

“Yeah- fuck- just like that just-“ You grind your hips into his face when his tongue reaches your clit again and he understands what you need.

He uses the tip of his tongue to press against your bud before sliding the thick muscle down again to slip between your folds. Slowly he presses his tongue into you, the size already overwhelming compared to your fingers. Despite his careful movements he pushes in too far too fast and you pull his hair hard.

“Hey- easy-“ You warn him and he pulls out of you quickly to look at you with concern.

“I’m sorry did I hurt you? We can stop I-“

“Just too much too soon- you just have to let me stretch out a bit.” You run your hand through his hair, petting him to calm him down.

“Okay, I can do that.” He presses a kiss to your thigh before diving back in.

He’s careful but he’s messy- part of it due to just how big his mouth and tongue are really. You feel your slick and his saliva coat your thighs as he laps at you, tongue seeking out every inch of you. The next time he pushes into you he’s much slower, letting the muscle flex inside you as you writhe beneath him. It’s wonderful but it’s just not quite enough. Your free hand goes between your legs and you almost have your fingers on your clit before Katakuri sends you a glance that stops you in your tracks.

“No-“ He says, barely pulling away. “Let me.”

You retract your hand and feel Katakuri’s thumb move to take its place, pressing down lightly as his tongue snakes it way back inside you. You swear loudly as he moves, grinding your hips into his fingers and tongue as he lets you use him to chase your pleasure.

“Just need you to- just move your finger a bit-“ You guide him and he obediently follows your direction, thumb moving in small circles like your finger had done before.

Looking down at him you watch as he’s lost in your taste, moaning into you at every grind of your hips and pull at his hair. You don’t miss the roll of his hips on the bed, no doubt desperate for the friction of the mattress beneath him. It’s all too much for you and you cry out his name as you cum, white blocking your vision. Katakuri doesn’t stop though, eagerly lapping at your juices even when you regain the strength to pull at his hair.

“Kat- fuck- baby stop-“ You don’t even register that you’ve said the pet name as he finally pulls off of you, confused.

“Did I hurt you again?”

“No ‘m just sensitive and it was a little too much right after I came.” You explain with a dazed smile.

“So you…” You nod and he smiles wide. “Didn’t want to assume-“

“Me screaming your name is a safe indicator.” You say with a small laugh.

He rests his head down, squishing your thigh and stomach a bit but you don’t mind the pressure at all, combing your fingers through his soft pink hair. The two of you sit like this for a bit, the silence comforting. Eventually though, you break that silence.

“I know you don’t like laying on your back but if you just want to sit up-“

“Oh- um- I’m-“

You’re a little confused at his reaction so you prop yourself up lightly to get a better look at him. “This is a mutual thing Katakuri- I don’t want to just-“

“Please, really don’t worry about me-“ You watch his face bloom with pink again and it clicks for you.

“Did you finish already?” You ask softly, no traces of judgement in your words.

“I’m sorry-“

“No- don’t be sorry.” You push yourself down so your face is level with his. “If you ask me it’s really hot that you came just from eating me out.”

“Oh- well-“ You press a light kiss to his mouth before he can stumble any further with his words.

“If you don’t want more I understand but if you can go another round there’s still some things on my mind…”

He captures your mouth in a messy kiss, a far cry from the chaste one you gave a moment ago. You can taste yourself on his lips as you’re pressed back into the bed by how eager he is. When you push on his shoulder lightly he breaks away and lets you breathe.

“Just don’t tell anyone about me being on my back.” He says seriously and you nod.

He rolls over, careful not to squish you in the process. As he does so you throw your shirt off, finally fully naked. Once he’s settled you climb onto him, his muscles flexing under you as you settle on his lower stomach. You watch as his hands ball into the sheets, forcing himself to stay still. As you slowly slide back though, he catches you off guard with a quiet question.

“When you said you had some more things on your mind… have you thought about this before?”

That freezes you in your tracks, embarrassment and shame filling up your stomach and catching in your throat. You lock your gaze to the side of him as you try and find your words. Logic tells you it’s stupid to be embarrassed at this point- he’d already enthusiastically ate you out- but your emotions dragged you down as you wonder if this really is just a practice run for him.

“You probably don’t want to know.” You answer, suddenly aware of how naked and cold you are.

“I just want to know if- hey…” One of his hands untangles from the sheets and a finger lightly presses against your chin to make you look at him. “I just want to know if you’ve been thinking about this as much as I have.”

That catches you off guard and while you think for a second he might be lying to you you see the honestly in his eyes. Of course. Why else would he show his face to you, lay on his back for you. You feel stupid for not realizing it sooner.

“I have been.” You confess, leaning your face into his hand.

You let yourself enjoy his touch, the warmth of his skin finally seeping into you and giving you the confidence to slink back down his body. You drag yourself down over the bulge in his pants, his cock already hard again. You slowly undo the large belt and fastenings of his pants, opening them up to see the dark patch in his boxers. Taking both your hands you tug the elastic waistband down and his cock springs out.

“I’ll just-“ One large hand gently picks you up as he raises his hips and shoves both layers down past his ass with the other, setting you back down where you were.

You would say thank you if you weren’t caught up staring at Katakuri’s cock. Obviously, it’s big. He’s big it makes sense but there’s a large gap between knowing something and seeing something. He’s flushed a beautiful shade of pink, large veins standing out along the underside. Your hand moves on its own accord to slide up it and the second you touch him you hear him groan. You scoot up closer next to him, and you would compare the length and girth to about the size of your thigh.

“Ah- I get the sensitivity thing now-“ He gasps and you smile.

“I have an idea- just let me-“ You swing your leg up and over so you’re straddling his length.

You’re still slick with saliva and your own juices, making it an easy glide as your grind yourself against his length. Katakuri’s hips buck up and you fall forward but before he can apologize you take advantage of this new position, licking at his smooth tip as you let your body slide against him.

“Fuck- that’s-“ You have the prefect view to watch his abdominals contract after every slide and lick you give him.

Your movements are not entirely selfless though, angling your hips so your clit grinds against him, bumping against his veins. You use your feet to slide up and down but it’s a bit hard to find a good rhythm as your legs aren’t used to this kind of movement.

“Need your help. I want you to slide me up and down.”

Katakuri looks at you, hand hesitating in the air. “But- I don’t want to just use you-“

“I want you to use me- please- this feels good for me too I just can’t keep it up.” You beg with him and that’s all the encouragement he needs as his large hand wraps around your midsection and slowly moves you.

There’s something about him using you, letting the soft skin of your stomach and thighs and folds grind against him, that makes your head go fuzzy. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before and it was bliss. It’s not very long at all until you feel Katakuri’s dick twitching under you and you know he’s going to cum again.

“Just let go for me, please Katakuri I want to see you-“

Your pleas are more than enough as you watch thick ropes of cum spill from his tip and onto his stomach. He holds you down as he cums and you don’t mind at all, getting a great view of his face from here. Eventually he relaxes and you slide off of his cock and wiggle your way up to his shoulder to lay your face next to him.

“Feel good?” You ask nuzzling into his neck.

“Very good.” He responds, still catching his breath. “Did… did you..?”

“No but that’s okay. Felt good.”

He huffs and you’re about to comfort him again but suddenly you’re flipped around with your back on the bed again. He stares down at you with a now confident smile.

“I think I could use some more practice then.”

#one piece x reader #one piece x you #x reader #katakuri x reader #charlotte katakuri x reader #discordantwritings

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