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hansensgirl · 4 years ago

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not all who wander are lost.

summary. | He’s got your name on his tattoo, wearing the same damn clothes since three days ago. A bottle of gin in his hand, and you’d say he’s just wandering.

warnings. | Strangers to lovers, smut, naive reader, mentions of trauma, angst, fluff, slight violence, slight dub/con, slight blasphemy, drinking, DD/LG, daddy kink, corruption kink, ring/hand kink, size kink, creampie kink, teasing, spanking, choking, spitting, manhandling, praise, male masturbation, handjob, degradation, a bit of humiliation, oral sex, virginity loss, marking, and more. 18+ MINORS DNI.

word count. | 11k

pairings. | Daddy!Destroyer!Chris x Little!Reader.

a/n. | one of the few fics inspired/based off of chemtrails over the country club. please heed the warnings and don’t forget to reblog. ily! thank you so much to @dragon-of-dreams @mypoisonedvine @tenuntilfightcall and everyone else for helping me out with some information! and thank you to my bb sara @asadmarveltrashbag for beta-ing and being there for me during this insane month, ilysm!!

The first time he laid eyes on you, was six months ago.

Meadows like the ones that surround him only exist in movies and Instagram posts. But even those need editing for perfection. Yet, the ones around him made him feel as though he has camera lenses for his eyes. Each piece of grass is a beautiful green, and some had flowers between them. His thighs may hurt but the view is a reward for all the trouble he just went through. A cute cottage lies on the hill he stands on. It resembles one from a Pinterest board but he doesn’t mind.

Birds chirp, sheep bleat, cows low and chickens cluck amongst Ella Fitzgerald's rendition of Summertime. Chris walks a few more steps and onto the porch he goes. This isn’t his destination. Well, technically, it is. But he isn’t supposed to be knocking on your door like he is now, and his heart shouldn’t be beating out of his chest. To the right of this cottage — Chris’s right — is another cottage.

It’s more modern than he’d prefer it to be. It only looks so because inside lives a drug lord who is on the run. It’s truly unfortunate his girlfriend sold him out for immunity. He knocks on the wooden door and takes a step back. Who knows what kind of person is behind it. “Coming!” your sweet voice calls. Chris doesn’t let go of his grip on his gun that’s down the waist of his pants.

Even the sweetest seeming things can always end up being sour.

You struggle not to trip over your own dress. The tail of it drags behind you and sweeps the floor, too. But it makes you feel just like a princess, so you don’t care. On your hip is a basket, and inside is Cotton. Your bunny. She’s been your company for years, and you don’t know what you’d do without her. Barely anyone visits anymore, only because cars can’t handle the long drive up and many people hate nature. But when the occasional knock on your door echoes throughout the house, you can barely keep your excitement inside.

You open the door and gasp. The man… is brooding. And he’s not the type of broody that would grumble insults under his breath or the type that would stalk people, either. He’s the dreamy type, the man your parents say is bad news when really he just needs love. You take in his form. You can tell he’s slightly tired and you just have to give him credit for walking up to your home. He has no flaws, except for the dirt that stains his clothing.

“Hi, do you live here?” the strange man asks, looking around the inside of your home. You jump and you’re not sure why but your skin raises with goosebumps. His voice is deep yet so soft-spoken. For some odd reason, his hand is reaching backwards and you assume that it’s because he has some sort of ache from the walk. You finally register his words and look up at him.

“Y- yes, do you live here?” you stupidly ask. You don’t even realize what you just said until you noticed his puzzled look. “Oh, sorry,” you look down and notice that his black boots are covered in pollen, something that can be oh so bothersome. “‘S’alright, I was hiking a- and I don’t have anywhere to go… Do you think you could let me stay here?” he asks, letting go of the gun. “Uhm, s- sure, what’s your name?” you ask him, moving out of the way.

Naive, so fucking naive.

“Chris, what’s yours?” he asks, stepping inside. You give him your name and he nods. He goes to wipe his shoes on the rug in front of the door but there is no rug. You hand him a rag and he gratefully takes him, mumbling a small ‘thank you.’ “Are you a tourist?” you ask him, setting your basket down onto the floor. Cotton hops out of it and runs off to the kitchen, probably to chew on your apron. “No…” he solemnly answers. He hands you the rag back and you shyly take it.

“O- okay… Are you a photographer? I’ll tell you God’s truth, the most beautiful photos are taken when the sun rises, when it sets and when it’s raining,” you pointedly inform him. You drop the rag into your basket and turn back around, your dress spinning in a slight swirl. His eyes rake your body up and down, taking in every inch of your body. Red cloth with white polka dots covers your body and your mushroom earrings bring the entire outfit together. Chris has to assume that the heavens above or whatever the fuck else is there have handcrafted you to absolute perfection.

He’s never read any stories about Greek gods, but he knows that Zeus would be absolutely infatuated with you. He takes note of how your body tenses up when he makes eye contact with you, and he gives you a small smile.

“I’m not a photographer,” he clarifies, looking around. He can’t believe you let him in just like that, but the more he found, the more he understood why. A lonely, innocent little girl like you doesn’t have anyone to tell you right from wrong. “Then what are you, sir? Are you lost? I can call the Consulate if you’d like,” you offer, walking towards him. “I’m not lost… I’m a wanderer,” he whispers almost hesitatingly.

“But you only ever wander when you’re lost, no?” you confusingly ask him. He clicks his tongue and shakes his head, before peering out of the window. Luckily, he has a direct view of the other cottage. He really did hit the jackpot. “Not all who wander are lost, little girl. Now tell me, why would you let a stranger inside your home?” he asks you.

Cotton hops from the kitchen to your bedroom, and you stand in place. “I… Well, I’m not sure. You didn’t give me any reason to not let you in or to make me believe you’re dangerous, sorry…” you shyly tell him. “Don’t apologize, just know that not everyone in this world is good. There’s always going to be someone with a little more darkness than the rest of us…”

Chris unzips his duffle bag, and you let out a giggle. “Quite ominous of you, but then again, it suits your whole aesthetic. The cool, bearded man, with his cool words,” you smile at him, but it carries a bit of sadness. “Treat this place as your own, make yourself at home. And if you need anything, I’m always here.”

Chris stays at the window for most of his days. Always with a pair of binoculars and a pack of saltine crackers. Sometimes, he pulls a juice bottle out of his duffle bag, You’ve countlessly offered him something that’s actually filling, such as angel cake and sandwiches. He rejects them all, and you wonder if he’s some sort of super-human. But technology hasn’t invented wireless technology yet, so it’s impossible.

“Uhm, Mr. Chris-Sir? I don’t think those crackers are good for you, they’re all you eat…” you sheepishly admit, carrying a cup of water to him. The mug has a little frog painted on it, but the green paint has chipped away over seven years. You set it down gently, onto the table next to him and Chris just stares out at the cottage. “Bird-watching is so cool, isn’t it? If you see a robin, let me know, they’re so beautiful,” you tell him, before walking off.

At first, he doesn’t take in your words. But once they’ve settled deep in his mind and sunk in, he realizes that you assume he’s bird-watching. He’d honestly take any other assumption, but at least you don’t know he’s spying on the criminal next door. He looks down at the table with a sigh and then notices what you’ve done. Not only did you set a cup of water down, but you also gave him two slices of toast. One has strawberry jam on it, and the other has melted butter.

His mouth surprisingly salivates, but it also doesn’t shock him. Every day he sits there, basking in the beautiful smell of your food and humming. His personal favourite is the smell of focaccia bread being baked. He watches and waits until you leave the room to go tend to the chickens. Apparently, one of them laid a few eggs. He quickly shovels the two slices of toast into his mouth and downs the glass of water like a starved man. Because he is one.

Cotton hopes around once again but all Chris sees is a fluffy white blur. He recalls his memories from when he was younger. Younger him always wanted a pet. Even a fish that would die in the span of two weeks would suffice. But his mom couldn’t afford it, so he dropped the idea. Sometimes, he wishes he had dropped other ideas, as well. Like the idea that he’d enjoy life as an undercover agent, or the idea of sacrificing himself for Erin.

His fingers are sticky with jam. He hates the feeling. He spreads his fingers out and goes to get up from his seat. “Shit,” he curses, realizing that something may happen while he’s away from the window. He stands there, contemplating whether or not he should risk his mission just to wash the fucking jam off of his stupid fucking hands. He calls your name, loudly, hoping you’ll hear him all the way outside the cottage.

“Is everything alright?” you shout, running inside the house. He didn’t expect that reaction, but he’ll take it. You’re holding onto the corner of two walls, slightly bent over. Your chest, your beautiful chest, is the first thing Chris lays his eyes on. He nearly chokes on his saliva, and he just can’t seem to take his eyes off of you. “Uh, hi, I need help,” he gruffly says, his voice a bit deeper than usual. He clears his throat with a loud ‘ahem’ and you begin to stand up straight, much to his dismay.

But he doesn’t think the image of your tits nearly falling out of your dress will leave his mind any time soon.

“Of course… Did you enjoy the toast? I can make you some more if you’d like,” you shyly offer him. “It was good, but I’m fine, thanks though. Can you stay here, right at the window, while I go wash my hands? If anything happens, you have to tell me.” Chris doesn’t leave any room for argument, but your curiosity and naivety get the best of you as always.

“What happens if I don’t tell you?” you ask him, walking towards the window. He blocks your path and suddenly personal space is no longer a thing you need. “You don’t want to know what I’m gonna do if you don’t, little girl,” he warns with a hint of lust in his tone. You nod your head and feel tingles bloom just above your core. You’re not sure whether they’re butterflies or those tingles.

Chris walks past you and you quickly rush to the window. You never realized how beautiful this view is until now. The sun is bright, angled in the most perfect manner so that it doesn’t shine directly in your eyes. The sky is so clear, even with the occasional fluffy cloud that always manages to look like some animal. The window blows gently, shaking the sheer curtains that frame you. You sigh and fold your arms, resting them on the windowsill.

You lay your head on your arms and stare out the window with joy filling your heart.

Chris watches you as you look out the window. You’re slightly bent over, once again. Your ass sticks out, and you subconsciously sway your hips side to side, almost purposefully teasing him. Your white dress has a few strings hanging from the hem, but it doesn’t make you look any less gorgeous. He feels like he’s in a dream.

Not only because of the beautiful scenery, and the beautiful woman in front of him but also because he’s trying his hardest to wash his hands quickly, but his movements are so slow. He looks down and rubs his hands together at a furious pace. Chris hears you gasp and he looks up. “Did you see something?” he asks you, turning off the sink.

“Yeah, my neighbour! I haven’t seen him in months, I need to go say hi,” you tell Chris, before rushing out the door. He only then registers your words once you’ve run out of the house and into the unknown. “Fuck- Wait!” he yells after you. He runs behind you and is so grateful when he notices you haven’t gone too far. But you’re still running and Chris’s target is about ten meters away, so he decides to do what he does best.

He decides to save you.

Chris’s feet hit the ground harshly, crushing the flowers beneath him. Running in socks isn’t fun, but at least he has something to protect him. He calls your name and crashes into you with all the force in his body. You both go down and hit the ground from his fierce tackling technique. You go to cry out in pain and lose your mind, but Chris clams his hand over your mouth. “Shh, be quiet. You’re not hurt, okay? I’m sorry I had to do that, but you can’t go running off like that,” he lectures, throwing his right leg over your body. He frames you down, and you don’t have much room to move. You’re frozen in place, chest heaving, and you furrow your eyebrows at his words.

“Listen, I need you to listen. You may not know me and I may not know you, but when I tell you to do something, you’re going to listen. Understood?” he chastised with a harsh tone. You nod meekly, like a little kid who just got caught with their hand in the cookie jar. “And just so you know, that sweet neighbour of yours over there is wanted by the Feds.” Chris looks over his shoulder and doesn’t see the man there anymore, so he begrudgingly climbs off of your body.

You gulp thickly, out of fear and nervousness. Chris doesn’t seem to want to add on to this newfound information, so your anxiety makes work of it. For all you know, your neighbour could be a murderer. Chris senses your nervousness and gives you a pat on the head, almost as if you’re his pet.

Unbeknownst to you, the sight of you under him, helpless and with his hand clamped over your mouth is something that gets his blood (and hand) pumping. He helps you up, and you don’t even realize it until he brushes some dandelion seeds out of your hair. “Thank you… and thank you for saving me, I’m sorry I didn’t listen,” you shyly speak to him. He nods and shoves his hands into his pockets, finding an old cigarette from before he quit.

“‘S’alright, I just need a few things from you,” he gruffly reassured. “O- Of course, anything for my guest and for the man who saved my life,” you beam with a small giggle punctuating your words. He basks in it, almost as though it’s sunlight over a beach. “Ah, you flatter me. Just tell me about yourself, I’m going to be staying for a while,” he says as he turns around to walk back inside.

A bottle of gin is in Chris’s hands. The colourless yet pale yellow liquid swishes inside its rightful bottle. It’s half full, only because last night, he downed the rest. He hasn’t drunk in a while. Since he got over being left for dead. And that’s only six months ago.

He’s shirtless. Only left in his grey jeans and jewelry. His rings clink against the glass bottle and his bracelets hang a little past his wrist. The gunshot wound on his left side had a faint scar on it. He hates it. Every single time he stares in the mirror, that fucking scar just stares back at him.

His father told him it makes him seem more ‘manly’, but it just feels like a point of weakness. Maybe if he was a little quicker, he would’ve saved that bank teller. He would’ve gotten Silas behind bars. He would’ve been able to be proud of himself.

Chris groans at the memories and spins the cap off of the bottle. It flies somewhere across the room, probably hitting one of the wood walls. He mumbles a ‘fucking hell’ and brings the bottle to his lips. The last time he drank like this was three months ago, and he ended up fucking the bartender.

She was bent over the counter, her tits spilled out of her bra and his cock pummeled into her sloppily.

She ended up kicking him out after they were done.

Chris groans again and sits down on the bed, kicking his legs up. His pants are stained with the pigment of dandelions and grass. The splotchy stains are juxtaposed to the grey of his old jeans. They have wear and tear all over them, but he doesn’t care.

Every now and then, he sighs — he sighs quite deeply. The puffs of air come from deep inside his chest. He tilts his head back and stares up at the ceiling, thinking back to earlier today. He smiles to himself, recalling the way you looked so innocent beneath him.

He’s only known you for a few days, and he already has lewd thoughts for you. Fuck. He just can’t help himself, though. Especially with your innocent doe eyes and pretty little dresses. He closes his eyes slowly, using that memory to fuel his much-needed mental images.

You’re beneath him once again, but you’re naked. His hand is wrapped around your throat, and he’s naked too. His cock is slowly driving in and out of you. He’s teasing you. Your pulsating, wet walls hug his fat cock, and you’re both moaning softly.

“Daddy…” you whisper to him, clenching around his cock. “What’s wrong, baby?” he softly asks you. “Please fuck me harder, please, Daddy,” you beg to him, before biting down onto your bottom lip. “I don’t think you’ll be able to take my cock like that, baby,” he shakes his head.

“I can take it, Daddy, I’m your good girl.”

Chris opens his eyes and his right hand has found its way down his boxers. His cock is all swollen and hard, hard as a rock. He places the bottle of gin down on the bedside table and gets himself all comfortable. Chris slowly begins to stroke himself gently. He goes from the base all the way to the top, and then back down. His thumb occasionally swipes against his leaking tip and all he can think of is teaching you how to make him — your Daddy — feel good.

“Fuck, baby,” he moans, feeling a vein throat against his hand. He moans your name and speeds up his movements. His fingers are slightly sticky, but it’s the type of sticky he doesn’t mind. He begins to slow his hand down, and he sighs, not wanting to come just yet. He hasn’t been this hard in ages, and touching himself feels so fucking good.

“Did you say my name? Is everything alright?” you ask, barging into his room. He jumps and his hand flies out of his pants. You both stare at each other, not even daring to blink. You eventually break eye contact and notice the bottle of gin sitting on the bedside table. There’s only a sixth of it left, and you frown. You don’t like it when people you care about drink. “Uhm…” he awkwardly scratches the back of his neck and then takes in your form.

You’re in a nightgown, and it’s sheer as fuck. The gin gets to him and his mind has a slight buzz to it. His heart beats rapidly and his cock throbs with want and need. Chris’s eyes rake up and down your body like how they usually do whenever you’re in front of him. His mother would scold him for ogling at you, but he just doesn’t care anymore.

“I- I am so so so sorry, I should’ve knocked. I just thought you needed help with something because I heard you say my name, but sometimes I just tend to hear random things, so sorry,” you apologize in a panicking manner. You slowly walk back to the door, but you don’t turn around. Your bare feet leave a faint imprint on the floor from the cold sweats that have taken over your body.

“Come back here,” he orders, sitting up on the bed. Chris’s unbuckled belt clanks quietly, and he begins to remove it in one quick motion. You gulp thickly and exhale shakily. You slowly walk to where Chris is sitting, and he pats the spot next to him. You’ve never had such an interaction with anyone, ever. You sit down next to him, but you keep your distance.

Alcohol should not be called alcohol in Chris’s utmost humble opinion. No, it should just stick to its nickname ‘liquid courage’ because it’s more accurate than anything else. He may not seem like it, but he’s just a man who doesn’t have the heart to do much. Adrenaline doesn’t exist for him anymore, not since the incident.

Chris turns his head and stares at your pretty face. You look down, unable to make eye contact with such a God-like man. You have to assume that even Apollo is envious of Chris’s beauty. “How’d you hear me? Because I know these walls aren’t thin enough, and I know I wasn’t being loud, so tell me; How’d you hear me?” he interrogates you like one of Silas’s companions, but this time is slightly different.

Lust is what’s pumping through his veins, not rage.

“Uhm, well… My room was right there, and I wasn’t doing anything but thinking, and since your bed is against the wall, I- I heard you say my name,” you explain shyly. He hums, and you’re not sure whether it’s a hum of delight or disbelief. “Thinking of what?” he presses, inching his body closer to yours.

You continue to stare at his hand, even though you can feel his heavy breathing against your face. “I… Well- I was uh,” you stutter embarrassingly, and it makes you burn up with shame. “Spit it out, little girl, and don’t think of lying to me,” he growls, placing his hand on your thigh. Your gaze follows his movements, and you take in the set of rings that adorn his fingers.

They’re all black and of similar styles. One has a skull, one is completely plain, one has a cross on it and the last one has the word ‘Daddy’ engraved on it. His veins are so prominent. They bulge out with intensity, and you’d just love to trail your fingers along each of them. “Am I going to have to force an answer out of you?” he roughly asks. His other hand goes to the back of your head and he brings your gaze to his face.

You quickly shake your head in objection, and he raises his eyebrows for you to spit your answer out. “I was thinking about you, and the way you tackled me…” you admit to him in a low and soft voice. “You liked the way I was on you, little girl?” he asks, moving his hand to the back of your neck. “Y- Yeah, made me feel all… Tingly…” you whisper to him.

“I want to hear you say it, little girl,” Chris ushers, squeezing the back of your neck slightly. “I liked the way you were on top of me…” you tell him breathlessly. “Good girl,” he praises in a slightly deep voice. He pulls you onto his lap and you gasp. His hard, wanting cock is right under your thighs, and you exhale nervously.

“You feel that, little girl? That’s all because of you, you did this to me. And you’re proud of it, aren’t you? Got me so fucking hard just because of you.” Chris squeezes your waist, and you really can feel it all. He’s not wrong, either. You’re so proud that you’ve made a man like him so desperate for you. “Do you know what I was doing, little girl? I was jerking off to the thought of fucking that cunny of yours until you’re begging me to stop,” he growls in your ear.

You moan softly, and the picture comes to mind, making your pussy gush with want. “Bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he asks, placing his hand on your inner thigh. You nod, and he raises his eyebrows in warning again. “Yeah, I want that so bad,” you murmur to him. You and your pussy want him so bad. Chris’s hand inches further up your thighs until he’s just an inch away from your bare pussy.

Your thighs are already slightly sticky from your arousal. “Do you know what jerking off is, little girl?” he asks, pulling his hand away from your pussy. You hold back a pathetic, child-like whine, and he begins to lift up your nightgown until he sees your naked body. “Kind of… Isn’t that when a man touches himself? Like how women touch their… down there?” you innocently ask him.

Chris chuckles at how cute you are. So innocent yet oh so slutty. “Have you ever touched yourself, little girl?” he asks, lifting the nightgown over your head. It’s strewn across the floor behind you, and neither of you cares. But you quickly use your hands to cover your most precious, most private parts. “No, no, I don’t want to see any of that. You’re so beautiful, baby, you’re built like an absolute angel,” he husks, and you feel so flustered that you can’t help but giggle.

“T- Thank you… And I’ve done it a few times,” you inform him. Chris nods and smirks, catching the way your nipples have pebbled up. “Have you ever made someone feel good before?” he questions, trailing his broad hands up and down your body. “N- No, it’s pretty lonely up here…” you almost-ashamedly admit. He coos at you. “Do you want me to teach you how to make me feel good, little girl?” he questions, palming your tits.

You moan softly and rub your thighs together as he pinches and pulls at your hard nipples. You’re so small in his large hands, it makes him even harder. You nod your head fervently, wanting to make Chris feel so fucking good. Chris takes his hands away from your body and shifts you in his lap. He reaches down his pants and pulls his cock out of his boxers.

You gasp, having never seen something as big as that. He smirks and uses his right hand to grasp the base of his thick cock. Chris brings your dominant hand down to where his cock is and guides you to wrap your fingers around him. Chris shudders at your soft touch, and he moans softly. “Good girl, yeah,” he praises. “Wrap your hand around me a bit tighter, baby,” he urges, and you do exactly that.

He groans loudly and a small smile stretches across your lips. “N- Now, you’ve got to move your hand up and down. Start off slowly, go all the way to the tip, and then back down,” he instructs, even though he’s helping you out. His hand brings yours all the way to the tip, and then back down; just like he said. His hand leaves yours and goes back to feeling up your pretty body.

“Now do it by yourself, but in a twisting motion, little girl.”

You listen to his words and jerk him off, feeling yourself get wet as his cock twitches in your hand. Your clit throbs and so do the veins on the side of his shaft. Chris curses, and you bite down on your bottom lip. “Good girl, just like that. Fuck, your hand feels so good around me,” he moans, squeezing your waist. You focus on his cock, watching as pre-cum leaks from the tip and down the side of his dick.

It drips onto your slow-moving hand, and you exhale as your movements grow a bit faster. You look at him, watching as his pupils darken with lust. You can tell — it’s written on his face — he wants you to go faster. Your hand speeds up around his cock, making him a moaning mess. “Fuck, you’re such a good fucking girl. You like making me feel good, don’t you? So eager to please like the good little girl you are,” Chris husks.

His praise goes straight to your needy cunt and he knows this because he can just tell. Your thighs rub together, your breath hitches, you let out a giggle and squeeze a little tighter around his cock. Chris’s hand goes up to your head and smashes your lips against his. You both moan into the kiss, and you straddle both his thighs to get more comfortable.

You place your other hand on his cock and mimic your dominant hand’s movements. You try to keep up with the kiss, but you just can’t. Teeth clash and so do tongues as Chris moves his mouth against yours. He pants and his chest heaves as you continue to stroke him. “Go faster, baby,” he urges, and he pulls his mouth away from yours. He can feel you soaking his jeans, your wetness joining the abundant amount of rips and tears in the material.

Your hand moves faster, twisting perfectly and occasionally squeezing his most sensitive spots as well. Chris pushes your hands away abruptly, and you’re confused. Did you do something wrong? Does he not like you anymore? What happened? “Shit, wrap your mouth around the tip, little girl. Trust me, you’re gonna fucking love it,” he says, and you quickly do so.

You’ll do anything to please him. His mushroom tip is leaking and a raging red. It’s the same red as the rest of his cock, and you could swear it’s almost purplish. You can tell he’s aching because you’ve been through a similar thing. You drop down to the floor and kneel in front of Chris. Your lips smooth around the tip of his hard cock, and you can taste him as soon as he hits your tongue.

He tastes of musk and manliness, along with a hint of saltiness, and it’s oh so addicting. You keep the tip of his cock in your mouth like it’s one of your favourite lollipops and smile around him. Chris smiles and wraps his hand around himself. He jerks himself off quickly, desperate to come in your mouth. “Fucking shit– god, you’re such a good fucking girl,” Chris rasps as he reaches his climax.,

His balls tighten up and his blue eyes roll back into his skull. White, hot, thick ropes of cum shoot out of his tip and fill your mouth. You’re not sure why, but a moan escapes past your throat, and it only makes Chris’s high much better. Chris places both hands on the sides of your head and holds you there, gently. You swallow all his cum as it fills your mouth and leaks from the corners of your lips.

Chris so desperately wants to push your head farther down his cock, but he knows he shouldn’t. Plus, there’s always going to be more time for things like that. He pulls your head away from his cock and watches as a string of saliva tries to keep the two of you connected. You gently lick your lips, still savouring his taste and he smiles down at you. You can’t lie — you feel giddy. Giddy in a way in which you crave his praise and approval like no other.

“You’re such a good girl, you know that? Thank you for helping me out… I do suppose I should return the favour, right?” he teasingly says, lifting you up into his lap. You shake your head out of nervousness. “No? … Why not, baby?” Chris asks, and you gulp thickly. “Don’t wanna rush it… I- never mind, you wouldn’t understand,” you look down and fiddle with your fingers.

The grooves of your nails are smoothed over by your pointer finger. Some dips and rises make you cringe, and others satisfy you. He looks down at your hands and notices the skin picked on the sides. He knows how painful those can be, and he doesn’t want you to feel any pain at all. “I’ll try to understand, darling, but if you don’t tell me, then I’ll be completely clueless,” he speaks to you lowly. “I like the way your words make me feel…” you shyly admit to him.

“Aw, how do they make you feel, baby?” Chris presses, grasping your two hands together. “All warm and small… makes me feel like I have it all. Hey, that rhymes!” you exclaim, bubbling in the utmost adorable giggles ever. “You’re a natural poet, darling. But tell me more…” he urges, rubbing his coarse thumbs against your soft skin. “I get butterflies, and I feel all shy and safe. Your words make me so comfortable yet so vulnerable…” you describe to him even though words can’t describe what you feel.

“Is that right, baby? You’re so cute… Do you- Do you get all tingly and babyish when I use my words?” Chris hesitatingly asks. His voice is so gentle and soft, a low whisper that is so soothing to your ears and rough edges. You nod meekly and smile to yourself. Your cheeks may hurt from all the laughter he caused earlier today but that doesn’t refrain you from hiding your smile.

Now, Chris is no doctor. He’s no professional, he’s no master. He’s just a broken man, but he knows exactly what you’re talking about. But he won’t explain what it is, because he needs you to learn on your own. Maybe with some guidance from him, but he won’t trick you into thinking something completely off base.

“Let’s get cleaned up, okay? Then we’ll sleep, you need the rest. We both do.”

He’s got your name on his tattoo, wearing the same damn clothes since three days ago. A bottle of gin in his hand, and you’d say he’s just wandering. But he isn’t. He was never. The stick-and-poke tattoo may seem a bit much, but he doesn’t regret it one bit. Your name is written in your pretty handwriting. The ink is in his skin, and he’s practically marked as yours, now.

The days go by slower, much slower than he’d like them to. But it doesn’t matter now, because his mission is over, and he’ll be leaving soon. But Chris doesn’t want to leave. His wanderlust has found an end as he finally has a place where he’s meant to be. He’s found heaven in the hills, and between your legs.

“D- Daddy…” you whisper under your breath, loud enough for him to hear. Your hands are locked with his, and they rest at your sides. You’re just in a small bralette, and your hard nipples poke through the fabric. Your legs are thrown over his shoulders and your ankles lace together behind his head. Your neck aches from the angle your body is in, but the pleasure blooming from your core is much more powerful.

Chris is between your legs, and he hums against your wet, throbbing pussy. You moan loudly and squeeze your eyes shut from the feeling. He sucks on your clit harshly, and wetness seeps from your hole. “Feels so good… Oh, my…” you pant. Your hips gyrate and you subconsciously grind your wet cunt against Chris’s face. He pulls his face away from your pussy and licks a broad stripe against you.

You moan again and squeeze his hands tighter. His tongue swirls around your swollen and throbbing clit, bringing you closer and closer to your release. Your taste is addictive, and he could stay between your legs for hours on end, if not for eternities. His beautiful, lovely rings dig into the sides of your fingers, but you don’t care. Chris may treat you like a delicate doll, but he should know how much you love it when he’s rough with you.

“I think I’m gonna come, Daddy…” you cry out to him before a strangled moan leaves your mouth. Chris pulls away from your pussy once again, but this time he spits on your lips. His saliva drops down your cunt and mixes with your wetness, and he goes back to devouring you. He eats you out like a starved man, and you’re squealing at the overwhelming pleasure.

If he was on death row, he’d have your sweet pussy as his last meal.

His tongue works over your clit and brings you closer and closer to your release. It’s coming fast. A searing, heated feeling takes over your body and abdomen as your back arches off your couch. Chris is as hard as a rock, staring you directly in the eyes, and he makes you come on his mouth.

“Oh- Daddy!” you cry out loudly, your mouth falling open into a silent, voiceless scream. Your eyes roll back into your skull and in Chris’s past words, you look like a brain-dead slut. Your wetness gushes out of your drooling hole, and he laps it all up with no problem. He drinks up everything you give him, and then some. Your hands are still laced with his and your chest rises and falls at a fast pace.

“Shh… You did amazing, little one. Taste so fucking sweet, just like nectar,” he hums like a hummingbird, before smacking his lips. You slowly come down from your high as he strokes your hands with his thumbs. Your lids are slightly heavy, but you don’t want to get any shut-eye. Time away from Chris is practically a sin in your eyes. “Thank you, Daddy,” you gratefully reply.

“You’re welcome, little one. Got me so hard,” he husks as he moves to get up. He carefully handles your body and pulls out a handkerchief from the pocket of his jeans. They’ve been washed and scrubbed but there are still faint dandelion and pollen stains that he just doesn’t care enough about. Though the adorable face you were making whilst washing them is something that’ll never leave his mind.

Just like the mental image of you coming undone beneath him.

“Can I make you feel good, Daddy? Pretty please?” you ask sweetly and Chris knows he could say yes, but he doesn’t want to. Making you feel good pleases him, but he doesn’t want to sound so poetic so he chuckles. “Soon, little one, I need to clean you up properly,” he tells you and you jut your bottom lip out, pouting. He coos at you and you scrunch your nose up at the attention.

“But I’m all clean, Daddy!” you reason, reaching over to palm his hard cock through his jeans. Chris chokes on his saliva at the feeling of your touch. “In a bit, little one, you need to listen to Daddy. Okay?” he rasps with a warning in his voice. “Okay, Dada…” you trail off with a deep sigh punctuating your sentence. You fiddle with your fingers as Chris carefully cleans up your pussy.

The damp washcloth is gentle against your sensitive skin. Each movement of his is carried by gentleness and love. “I have a question, Daddy,” you hum after a few seconds of silence. “Go ahead, mushy one,” he says with a smile. You giggle at the nickname before calming yourself down. “Were you really wandering?” you bluntly ask him. Chris’s eyes nearly fall out of their sockets, and you gasp.

“What do you mean, little one?” he asks, looking up at you. “Well… You said you were a wanderer! And that’s how you found me! But you don’t seem like a wanderer, you’re too clever to be one,” you explain with a smile on your face. Chris begins to chew on the inside of his cheek, and the skin has already been filled with bite marks and scars. At this point, he should tell you, right? You already know the deepest, most darkest pieces and part of him.

You’ll love him no matter what.

“Well, I wasn’t wandering. You’re so smart, little one. The smartest baby in the world!” he cheers and moves to get up. He sits in the empty spot next to you and lifts you into his lap. You’re still naked and Chris has his shirt off (as usual), so the skin-on-skin contact has you feeling even sleepier. “Sometimes, we lie to protect people. I lied, to protect you, along with many other people. Myself included, of course,” he starts.

“I was sent here with the sole purpose of bringing in your criminal neighbour,” he pauses “and I did.” You nod along with his words, your mind only allowing the most important phrases to sink in. “I arrested him around a month ago, and I was supposed to leave three weeks ago,” he sadly sighs. You look up in a panic, and you’re in shock. “Two weeks ago, I turned in my resignation. I’m not going anywhere,” he quickly adds and your face lights up.

“I’m staying with my best girl, okay?” Chris smiles and leans in to kiss you. You let him do so because God-damn, you’d let him do anything he wants to you. “T- Thank you so much, Daddy!” you squeal and hug him tightly. He laughs in a beautiful cacophony of sounds, and it’s right in your ear.

Chris feels a weight being lifted off his shoulders as you writhe around in his arms. You wiggle around on his hard cock and Chris suppresses a groan. His hands trail from your shoulders to your waist, down to your hips. Goosebumps erupt on your skin and excitement runs in your veins at his touch. Your head rolls back and you exhale shakily. He grips your hips tightly, and you involuntarily buck your hips against his crotch.

Both you and Chris moan before he moves both his hands to your ass. He gropes you roughly, feeling a bit of your wetness on his fingers. “Oh, baby… What’s all that for? Hm? Didn’t Daddy just eat your sweet little pussy out?” he asks in a slightly worried tone. “Y- Yeah… But I can’t help it, Daddy, you always make me so tingly…” you admit to him, shyly.

“Mmm, I like knowing I do this to you. Gets me so fucking hard,” he groans, slapping your ass. You yelp in surprise, but it gets cut off by a whimper. Chris caresses the hit skin and soothes you down from the shock. He smiles at you and then lands another hit. Then another, and then another.

The sting is addictive, just like he is. It leaves you writhing in both pain and pleasure and yet you still want more. “M- more, please,” you quietly beg and Chris coos at you as if you're a pet. And the truth isn’t far off. The coolness of his rings is both brutal and comforting. It soothes you yet acts as if they didn’t just hurt you. “You want more, baby?” he asks in that sweet yet sultry condescending tone of his.

You nod your head and chew on your bottom lip. “‘S too bad you’re gonna have to take what I give you and keep quiet, baby,” he husks, and you whine loudly. Chris flips your bodies around and suddenly you’re on your back, and he’s leaning over you. He locks lips with you and you try your hardest to keep up with the kiss.

His lips move sloppily against yours, but you don’t mind because you’ll take anything he gives you. You moan into true kiss and Chris wedges his knee between your legs. You’d hump him like a bunny because that’s what the demon on your shoulder is telling you to do. But the last time you did something without his permission, you weren’t allowed to make him come for a week.

You just know you’re soaking his jeans but neither of you cares. Chris kisses the corner of your mouth and trails down to your neck, peppering kisses behind as if he’s leaving a trail on your body for when he’s going to explore you later. The stubble on his cheeks and jaw tickles you and Chris falls even more in love with you as your laughter fills the air.

“D- Dada…” you whisper to him as you tilt your head back. His lips land on that sweet spot of yours and your back arches off the couch. Chris smiles against your skin and begins to suck on that sweet spot. Your breath hitches as he bites, licks and sucks on your skin. He marks you up like no other, and you know how much he loves to know that you’re all his.

“Dada… No teasing, please,” you sweetly ask in your soft tone. And how can he turn you down? “In a bit, little girl, be patient for Daddy.” Chris continues to mark you up until he’s satisfied. The feeling of his teeth against your neck and collar bones makes you even wetter than you already are. Possessiveness is carried in his movements, and it only drives you to be needier.

Chris moves further down from your collar bones to the valley of your breasts. Each curve of yours makes him want to sin without any repentance afterwards. He places a kiss there and then looks up at you. “Please, Daddy,” you whisper so quietly it takes him a few seconds to realize what you’ve said. Chris’s hand wraps around your body to your back.

He slowly unclasps your bralette and drags it away from your body at the same pace. You both maintain eye contact all whilst he undresses you to your vulnerability. Chris throws your bra somewhere behind him and places his hands on your body. “Aw, baby… You’re so cute and small,” he sweetly says in an almost shocking manner. Almost as if he doesn't use the size difference as a weapon to make you all soft and mushy.

“Hm, thank you, Daddy,” you tell him because good girls always have manners. “So good, using your manners for Daddy,” he praises, and you wonder if he can read your mind. Your Daddy can do anything, so it would be no surprise if he can. Chris sits upon his knees, but he remains in his towering position. Gently, and with care, he spreads your legs open until he’s satisfied.

He watches as you clench your needy pussy. He just knows your clit is throbbing, and you’re tingly because he just has that effect on you. “Poor baby… Is this all for Daddy?” he asks, and you quickly nod. “Say it, tell me it’s all because of me,” he growls placing his hands on your thighs. Chris slowly moves his hands further down your thighs. His touch is gentle, and he can feel the goosebumps on your thighs beginning to raise.

“‘S all yours, daddy. It’s all because of you,” you tell him breathlessly. “And this pussy is all mine, isn’t it, little girl?” he asks, inching closer to your wet pussy. “Mhm, only yours, Daddy!” you happily assure him, and he smirks at you. “That’s right, little girl. And since it’s all mine, doesn’t that mean I can do whatever I want with it?” he questions, and you nod with no hesitance at all.

Chris traces your wet pussy with his ring-donned pointer finger. “Oh my…” you gasp at the feeling. It may not be much, but your sensitive little pussy struggles to handle it. You clench around nothing again, and he watches, before chuckling at you. “Such a pretty pussy you have, baby, I can’t fucking wait to ruin it,” Chris growls, and you whimper. “Gonna fill you up with my cum after I fuck you, little girl,” he promises, and you never wanted to be fucked so badly until now.

He wonders if his cock could even fit inside you. Usually, he’d want to eat you out and finger you to prepare you. But he’s now thinking with what’s between his legs, and not what’s between his ears. He trails that same pointer finger on your pussy, and becomes mesmerized with the sight. Chris watches as your hole drools with want and need, whilst you watch him.

His already dark eyes are blown out with lust, and it only turns you on even more. Chris knows you’re watching him. He’s not one of the best agents in the FBI for no reason. He looks up at you, and you lock eyes with each other. He smirks and pulls his hand away from your pussy. You hold back a whine, but you still pout in disappointment. Chris begins to unbuckle his pants, and you’re filled with eagerness.

You smile widely, and he coos. “Aw, you’re such a desperate little slut, it’s adorable,” he chuckles, and you shy away. He pulls down his jeans along with his boxers slowly. Chris takes off his jeans and boxers completely, and throws them somewhere around the house. You watch as his cock bounces up and leaks with pre-cum. You just know he’s aching because of how red his cock is.

He’s big, and you already know that. But seeing him in all his naked glory is just something else. The simple yet not so simple idea of Chris’s cock being inside of you is electrifying. It’s both terrifying and exciting. He grabs the base of his cock and the prickly hair pokes the soft skin of his hands, but he doesn’t care. His left hand goes back to your pussy, and begins to rub circles on your clit.

“Oh… Daddy,” you moan quietly. The pleasure is almost overwhelming, so you involuntarily try to shut your legs and keep Chris out. Your knees touch for a brief moment, and he’s having none of that. He separates your legs and climbs on top of you, all while staring you directly in the eyes. His cock drags against your inner thigh. “Oh, is it too much for you, little one?” he asks with faux pity in his tone. You nod and clench your fists to control yourself.

“Too fucking bad, you’re gonna take whatever I give you, and you’re not gonna complain. Isn’t that right, little girl?” he sneers, and you gasp. Usually, you can’t handle someone who raises their voice in the slightest. But hearing Chris do it makes the butterflies in your stomach fly. “Yes, Daddy,” you hum delightfully, and he smiles. “Good girl,” he praises. Chris presses harder on your sensitive pearl of nerves and rubs you in faster circles.

“Daddy…” You moan and it goes straight to his cock. He looks up at you and just knows you’re beginning to drive up that cliff. He slows down his ministrations on your nub, and you bite back a loud whine. “You’re so needy, baby… Already so close to coming, it’s kind of pathetic…” he trails off and more wetness leaks out of you. You’re absolutely soaked and are a little bit ashamed of it.

“Please, Daddy! I’m so close, I’ll do anything,” you beg, but he just doesn’t buy it. “You’ll already do anything I tell you, baby, begging is so useless,” Chris chortles. You let out a small huff and move your hips in a circle, grinding against his thumb. In a flash of blurry moments, Chris pulls his hand away from your pussy and wraps around your neck. He squeezes the sides of your throat, and you gasp quite loudly.

He raises his eyebrow in warning, and you nod in understanding. “Good girl, I don’t want to put you over my knee when I’m feeling so gracious,” he assures, and you smile. Chris brings the tip of his cock to your swollen, needy clit and his pre-cum begins to mix with your wetness. You both moan softly as he rubs his tip on your clit. Your bottom lip finds a home between your teeth and Chris’s tongue swipes over his.

The sight and feeling of his cock on your silky pussy make him so weak in the knees. “Fuck, baby, do you like that? You like it when Daddy makes you feel good with his cock?” Chris asks in a deep, gravelly voice. “Yeah, Daddy… love it so much…” you tell him through a mushy haze of pleasure.

“You’re getting all dumb and stupid already? You’re so cute, little one,” he purrs, and you giggle at his words even though there’s nothing funny about them. “Do you want my cock, little baby? Say it, tell Daddy you want his cock,” he urges, and you look down to where you’re both nearly connected.

“I wan’ your cock, Daddy. Want it so bad, I need it, Daddy,” you beg, and Chris hums. “Just a little more, little girl, it’s like music to my ears,” he smirks, and you bite your bottom lip. “Sing for me, hummingbird,” he pushes, and you just go with whatever your neediness tells you to do.

“I wanna feel your cock deep inside me, Daddy. I want your cum to fill me up until I’m leaking and all stupid. Please, Daddy, please fuck me. I really want your cock, I need it,” you beg and blood rushes to his face and cock. “Fuck, yeah, I’ll give you my fucking cock, and you better take it like the good girl you are,” he growls, and you whimper. Chris slowly drags the fat tip of his shaft down to your drooling, slutty hole.

You whimper loudly, and he looks back at you. Fear is written all over that pretty face of yours, and Chris knows the exact reason why. “Don’t worry, baby, I’ll be gentle, okay? If you want to stop just say so, and I’ll listen. I won’t hurt you, darling. I promise,” he gently reassures you. You sigh with an almost heavy yet full heart.

You then nod and Chris thanks you for allowing him to fully make you his. “Wanna hold your hand, Dada… Please,” you ask pleasantly, and he nods. “In a bit, little girl, I just need to be careful,” he whispers. Chris slowly begins to push into your wet, tight cunt. You swallow him slowly, and the sight is mesmerizing.

The tightness of your cunt squeezes him in a strong hug, and he wishes he could be buried deep inside you for the rest of his life. “Fuck- Baby, you feeling so fucking good,” he moans while trying to compose himself. You’re still whimpering from the pain, and your chest is rising and falling at a fast pace.

“C- Can I push all the way in, little one? It’ll only hurt for a bit,” he asks, and he looks deep into your eyes. “Mhm… Wanna feel your cock deep inside me, Daddy, please,” you beg, and Chris tries his hardest not to come right here, right now. He thrusts his hips forward, and bottoms out inside you completely.

Your mouth falls open, and you’re silently screaming. The pain isn’t too much, but you feel as though the wind is being knocked out of you. Chris shifts a bit, and that’s when you start to feel it more. He’s so deep inside you, and he’s splitting you in two. “Breathe, baby, breathe,” he says.

You realize you’re holding your breath and it’s no wonder why your heart was beating out of your chest. “You’re doing so- so well, darling. Your little cunny looks so nice when it’s stuffed full with my cock,” he groans, and you whimper. “Dada, is hurtin’...” you whisper, and Chris wants to pull out because he can’t stand the thought of his little girl being hurt.

“Do you want me to stop, little one?” he asks, but you quickly shake your head in objection. Even though the pressure in your core is dwindling, and even though you feel a little too full, you don’t want him to stop. “No stopping, Daddy, please,” you whine and flail your arms towards him. He shushes you soothingly, and you calm down as soon as he flashes a stern look.

The pain soon burns away into nothing but dust and ash, and you finally see why he was so desperate to shove his cock inside of your cunt. It turns into pleasure and your pussy leaks around him. You’re soaking Chris’s cock with no shame at all. “Oh, fuck, baby… You feel so fucking good,” he moans, and you follow with a gasp. “I like the way y- you feel inside me, Daddy, makes me all tingly…” you admit shyly, and Chris chuckles.

“Yeah? Bet it makes you want to be fucked stupid, right, baby?” he questions with a playful smirk on his face. “Yes, Daddy,” you moan. You’re never aware of your surroundings because you’re too caught up in the moments. It’s something Chris scolds you for, but you never learn. But in this moment, you can feel everything. The veins on his cock throb against your silky walls, and you can feel his balls against your ass. His hot breath fans over you as Chris struggles to compose himself.

He slowly drags his hips backwards, pulling out of your pussy until his tip is the only thing in your cunt. The sudden almost-emptiness is surprising, but you quickly get used to it. Chris then pushes back into your pussy, and you moan loudly. “Fucking hell, little one,” he curses under his breath as he bottoms out again. He begins to fuck into you slowly and gently, careful to not hurt you. Even if he wants to fuck you until you’re crying.

The sound of skin on skin is quiet and almost unintelligible. The squelching sounds from your wet pussy and moans fill the room. Chris gently grips your hips and watches as your face contorts into a frown of pleasure and not pain. “Daddy…” you pant softly as you look up at Chris. “Yeah, baby? Am I hurting you?” he asks out of worry. “N-No, it feels so good…” you trail off as one particular thrust lands near your g-spot. And he knows that.

“Wan’ you to fuck me hard, wan’ you to destroy me, Daddy. Please fuck me like the slut I am…” you gently beg and Chris halts his thrusts. His cock twitches inside of you because of your words. Only he can corrupt an innocent angel such as yourself. “Shit- Little one, I don’t want to hurt you, that’s why I’m being so gentle,” Chris explains, but you shake your head. “You could never hurt me, Daddy. Please, I need you,” you beg for one last time, unaware of what you’ve done to him.

Chris roughly pushes his cock back into your cunt without warning. “Awe, I see. My little princess wants to be fucked like the whore she is, hm? Well, whatever princess wants, she gets,” he growls because beginning to fuck you roughly. You moan loudly at the feeling as with each thrust, his cock pummels against your sweet spot roughly. His pelvic bone rubs against your swollen clit and his grip on your hips tightens.

“Daddy!” you cry out as Chris pounds into your poor pussy. The room fills with moans, groans, curse words and wet sounds that all come from the art you two are making. “Aw, what’s wrong, little girl? Can’t take daddy’s cock anymore? Hm? Well, I don’t really give a fuck, you’re just gonna lie there, and take what I give you like a good fucking girl,” he sneers, and you push at his chest.

“It’s so sensitive!” you wail like a little bitch in heat. “But I bet you don’t want me to stop, do you?” Chris asks as a moan bleeds past his plump lips. “Uh-uh, please don’t stop, Daddy!” you squeal after a harsh thrust. The stretch of Chris’s cock is amazing, and you never want the feeling to stop. Chris’s hand leaves your hip and crawls all the way up to your neck. He wraps his fingers around your throat, and squeezes the sides, making you clench tightly around his big, thick cock.

He lowers his face to yours and watches as you react to the way he’s being rough with you. “Oh, God!” you cry out as he makes his thrusts more powerful. “Actually, it’s just ‘Daddy’, but I’m fine with that too,” he slyly smirks. You’re too fucked out to even laugh at his joke. Your eyes roll back into your skull and your back begins to arch off of the couch. “Awe, are you gonna come around my big fat cock already, slut? How cute,” Chris mocks.

You nod your head and begin babbling like a baby. “But remember, little girl, I have to give you permission to come, okay?” he reminds you, and you whine. Chris’s hand around your throat moves up to grab your jaw, and he stops thrusting into you. “None of that is allowed. Don’t forget your place, little girl,” Chris warns with fury seething through his words. You mumble an apology, trying to formulate the proper words to speak.

“Seems like I really did fuck you stupid,” he chuckles, and you moan at his words. You clamp down on his cock, tempting him to do what you want, like a siren using her voice to lure men into the sea. “Open your mouth up first, little girl,” he orders, and you obediently listen. The searing arousal in your core begins to fade away, and you feel a panic beginning to rise inside you.

Chris drags his hand back down to your throat and rests it there. You watch as he puckers his lips up, and suddenly, he spits into your mouth. You open your mouth even wider and stretch your tongue out. His saliva lands directly on your tongue, and you wait for further instructions before you give in to your desires.

“Swallow it, little girl,” he instructs, and you do exactly so. You open your mouth back up just to earn some praise. “Good fucking girl. The best baby ever,” he smiles and presses a kiss to your forehead. “Thank you, Daddy! … Can I have cummies now?” you lovingly ask your Daddy.

“Of course, little one,” he says as he smiles down at you. Chris begins to fuck into you again, deep and hard. With each thrust, he pounds your g-spot and his balls slap against your ass. His remaining hand on your hip moves down to your clit, rubbing your little button with rough circles.

“Daddy… ‘m gonna come!” you moan loudly and Chris fucks you harder. “Come one, baby, come all over my big cock like the good girl you are,” he urges. The building feeling inside you increases, and you feel yourself getting closer to your release. “Fucking come, little girl, wanna hear you sing for me,” he growls. And with one specific thrust, you find yourself coming undone beneath him.

The sight is so fucking beautiful. Watching you as your eyes turn up, your mouth falls open and your cunt hugging his cock just gets him going, and he wishes he could take a picture of you right now. “D- Daddy! Oh, my-” You cut yourself off with a loud moan and Chris keeps on rubbing your clit and fucking you through your orgasm.

You soak his cock until it’s dripping and even then you’re still coming. You moan loudly and Chris can feel himself getting closer to his orgasm. His balls begin to tighten up and a droplet of sweat drips from his neck down to his chest. “Daddy, are you gonna come?” you sweetly ask as he fucks you through your orgasm whilst chasing his own.

“Yeah, baby, Daddy’s gonna fill you up with his cum. I’m gonna leave you leaking with my seed,” Chris growls as he fucks you faster. “Please, Daddy… Please, I want your cum so badly! Please fill me up with your cum, Daddy,” you beg and Chris tosses his head back.

“Fuck, yes, yes yes,” he shouts as his balls tighten up again. He quickens his pace until white, hot, thick ropes of cum spurts out from his aching tip. He fulfills his promise and your wish, filling you up with his cum until there’s nothing left. His cum mixes with your juices as he paints your walls with no expertise whatsoever. Chris slumps on top of your body, engulfing you in a bear hug as his cock remains buried inside of you.

You’re both panting and struggling to come down from the euphoric feelings. You look up at Chris make lock eyes with him for the nth time. There’ll never be a day where you don’t get lost in his eyes. They’re beautiful, absolutely beautiful. “You did so fucking good, little one,” he praises, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.

“Thank you very, very much, Daddy,” you slur, feeling yourself beginning to sleep into little space. “Daddy?” you call out, tapping his bicep after a few seconds. “Yeah, baby?” he asks, lifting himself up to get a better view of your face. “Will you really stay?” you ask with a bit of worry in your voice. He sighs with a full heart.

“Always.”

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morganayenneferburnham · 3 years ago

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Have I Known You 20 Seconds or 20 Years? – Nikolai Lantsov Series

Chapter 1: Devils Roll the Dice, Angels Roll their Eyes

https://archiveofourown.org/works/33661984/chapters/83654680

A very short summary: Y/N has been working with the crows for a few years. Her life feels complete until she meets the insufferable Nikolai Lantsov. She finds herself forced to work with the King of Ravka on one of Kaz Brekker's crazy schemes.

Nikolai Lantsov. King of Ravka. He was privateer extraordinaire Sturmhond?

Word count: 2k

A/N: So I wrote my first fic! Hopefully at least one person likes it! I just posted the first chapter today. The second one should follow somewhat soon ☺️I’m currently writing the third chapter!

Chapter 1: Devils Roll the Dice, Angels Roll their Eyes

Nikolai Lantsov. King of Ravka. He was privateer extraordinaire Sturmhond?

Y/N couldn’t quite believe it. She had been a fan of him for years. Asking for the latest news on the voyages of the Volkvolny and its captain every chance she got. They were legendary. When Kaz had told her a few days prior that Sturmhond was going to be with them for a job she had barely been able to contain her excitement. Now, she was mortified. How could she work with a king?

Had she not been standing next to Kaz during the meeting she’d never have believed it.

“How long have you known, Kaz? I mean, I know you’ve worked with him before but…” her voice trailed off in a question.

“I figured it out when we first met.” His mind traveled back to that day. Meeting the privateer by the Geldrenner hotel’s baths, just a few years ago. They had been trying to save Kuwei Yul-Bo, a Shu inferni who’d had the misfortune of being the son of the fabrikator who created Jurda Parem, making him the most valuable hostage in the world. They had auctioned him off, faked his death, and gotten revenge on Jan Van Eck all at the same time. “The king of Ravka wouldn’t just let anyone represent his country in important matters. The fact that he always travels with at least one member of the Triumvirate doesn’t help him keep his identity secret either.” He scoffed. “He really should stop doing that.” Kaz sounded almost… annoyed?

“I take it you’ve given him that particular piece of advice and he didn’t listen?” She smirked. “Though, you know, I’m glad Zoya Nazyalenski tagged along. She is even more gorgeous than I thought.”

“He never listens. Almost as stubborn as you.” He huffed. The glare he gave her would’ve been enough to scare most people, however, she was not most people. She considered Kaz family, and she knew that Kaz did too, in his own way. They had both lost siblings to the city after all. She had joined his crew a few months after they had lost Matthias and Nina had gone back to Ravka. He had needed a new corporalnik and she had made fast friends with Inej, Jesper, and Wylan. As much as Kaz had tried to keep the young tailor at arm’s length, she had found a way to worm herself into his cold guarded heart. His look softened before he continued. “You should steer clear of her. She’s just as icy as she appears. Wouldn’t want you to get your heart broken before the job.” That was his way of showing he cared.

“Don’t worry, Kaz, I’m not looking to marry her. Maybe she’d be open to a bit of fun?” She laughed, throwing her long auburn hair over her shoulder, and made her way back to Jesper and Wylan down the corridor.

---

A few days had passed since they’d met with Sturmhond. He and Zoya had temporarily moved into the slat. Kaz had been cooped up in his office, wearing his scheming face most of that time. Everyone could tell Kaz’s plan was going to involve multiple steps and deceptions.

Since they hadn’t been working any other jobs, the crows had been left to their own devices for the first time in months. Kaz occasionally called on them for their expertise, but they had a lot more downtime than they were used to. They had taken advantage of it to get to know their new teammates. Y/N had mostly struck out with Zoya, though she had managed to make her laugh a few times, to everyone’s surprise. Maybe with more time, she’d have a small chance with Zoya? The young grisha had also tried to wrap her head around the identity of her favourite privateer. She now found herself sitting in Kaz’s office, Jesper and Wylan on her right and Sturmhond and Zoya on her left. Kaz looked all business, so serious she feared he’d give himself an aneurysm.

“I need you to tailor him. Once you’re done, you’ll tailor yourself.” Kaz nodded in Sturmhond’s direction sitting behind his cluttered desk, hands resting on his crow’s head cane.

Y/N looked up at Inej who had been sitting at Kaz’s window. “May I ask why? Hasn’t he already been tailored?” She gestured to the privateer before returning her hand to her lap. “He doesn’t look like the king of Ravka.”

Kaz rolled his eyes. “Why must you always question me?” He sighed. “Yes, he has been tailored, nonetheless, he is too easily recognizable as Sturmhond. I need you both to look like rich Kaelish merchants. It shouldn’t be too hard for you?”

“Of course not. You know there’s nothing I can’t do, Brekker.” She replied in Kaelish. She softened her tone before continuing in Kerch. “I’m simply asking you to share your brilliant scheme with us mere mortals” Her voice was laced with sarcasm. Inej stifled a laugh. It looked like the Suli girl couldn’t help but smile at the other’s antics.

Kaz groaned. “Fine, I’ll share my plan for the job. It’d be easier if you just listened. I’ll explain it once so pay attention – Jesper!” Poor Jesper jumped on his chair. He’d been staring at Sturmhond since they’d all entered the office. Y/N couldn’t blame him. The privateer did have an inexplicable charm despite his tailored features.

“Yes, Boss!” Jesper straightened in his chair and sent an apologetic look to Wylan.

“Alright, to pull this one off we’ll need blueprints that can only be found in Gert Van Verent’s safe. He keeps his office under lock and key – ”

“Wait, you want us to break into a councilman’s house, again? Why can’t you do it Kaz? You’re the best at picking locks.”

“Well, if you hadn’t interrupted me” he was glaring daggers at her now, his eyes the hue of bitter coffee “you’d know that two guards are posted outside his office, at all times” he’d emphasized the last part and raised a hand to stop Y/N from interrupting him again “and his windows are protected behind steel bars.” Y/N nodded once slowly indicating she was willing to listen with no more interruptions.

“Van Verent is throwing a party in the hopes of finding his eldest daughter a husband. Being a devout Kerch merchant, he is also using the occasion to find new business ventures. The party is our window of opportunity. That-” he gestured to her and Sturmhond “is where you two come in. Ainsley and Eoin Ó Ceallaigh, newlyweds from the Wandering Isle, looking to extend your exporting business to Kerch. I already secured your invitation” Y/N felt her jaw drop. No sound came out. All she could do was stare at Kaz. He had finally lost it. He wanted her and the king of Ravka to assume false identities and pretend to be married? Dirtyhands had gone mad.

Wylan was the one who voiced her concern. “Kaz? I know Y/N’s a talented tailor and well she is Kaelish so that part’s covered but, well, um, no disrespect Sturm-, Sir? Your Highness? But, um, do you speak Kaelish?”

The king smiled. He looked amused at Wylan’s confusion. He replied in perfect unaccented Kaelish “Call me Nikolai, it will make for less confusing conversation. Of course, I speak Kaelish, I have been educated in 6 languages. I also had a fondness for Kaelish poetry in my youth.”

Everyone seemed to relax at that. However, Y/N could tell she was going to need Jesper’s help to undo the knots in her shoulders later that night. “Kaz? I don’t think I’m that great of an actress… You also haven’t told us how we’re supposed to get the plans if we do get in.”

“Don’t worry darling, I’m sure we’ll manage. I’m talented enough for the both of us” Nikolai winked at her. Nikolai, who just so happened to be the privateer she had admired for years. She felt her cheeks flush. Saints, she thought, this is going to be a nightmare.

“Jesper and Wylan have also been invited to the party thanks to Wylan’s new position on the merchant’s council.” She had never been more grateful to Kaz for overlooking the interruptions. “They’ll cause a distraction, with Nazyalenski’s help, to let you and Nikolai slip past the guards and break into Van Verent’s office.” He stopped and looked at Y/N. “I know you can pick the lock and crack the safe. I trained you myself after all.”

The discussions and planning continued well into the night. Y/N wasn’t convinced it was such a good plan, but everyone else seemed on board so she kept her mouth shut. All she could do now was make sure to memorize all she could before the job. The party was two days away, which didn’t give them much time to learn all they could about their characters. Kaz had instructed Nikolai and Y/N to spend every waking moment working together to make sure they made a believable couple.

Twelve hours in, Y/N was cursing herself for saying she wasn’t a great actress. If she’d only pretended to be confident in her acting abilities, she might have been allowed to take a break from the insufferable king. Well, insufferable might have been a little dramatic but the man loved himself way too much. They had memorized their stories in the first 8 hours and were now being quizzed by Wylan and Jesper while she started tailoring them both, yet the King would not stop flirting with her. He also made sure to touch her every chance he got. A brush of his fingers on her cheek, of his knuckles on hers, twirling a strand of her hair around his finger. She knew it was just harmless fun for him. It was driving her completely mad. She just wanted him to take the job seriously.

“How did he propose?” Wylan asked for the third time in the past two hours.

Y/N sighed and moved her fingers through Nikolai’s hair to darken it. “It was incredibly romantic. He had planned a picnic by the lake where we met.” Her cheeks were already starting to hurt from the plastered smile on her face.

“I had all of her favourite foods, of course” Nikolai interjected, moving to softly caress the girl’s cheek.

Y/N had to restrain herself from slapping his hand away. “Yes, even strawberries, in winter! Can you believe it? Once the sun began to set, he dropped to one knee and pulled the ring from the picnic basket with a bouquet of winter roses. I’m so lucky to have fallen in love with such an attentive and caring man.” She turned to Kaz who had been observing them, leaning against the doorframe, and dropped the smile from her lips. “Was that satisfactory, Boss?”

Kaz shrugged. “It’d be better if you didn’t look like you wanted to stab him every time he touches you.”

Y/N released a breath. “Maybe if you’d let me take a break...” her tone was pleading.

Kaz smiled at that. He was finally wearing her down. Giving her a taste of what she’d put him through the last two years felt like sweet justice to him. He liked the girl well enough, but she had a way of getting on his nerves. He took no pity on her. “You’ll keep going until I actually believe you are in love with him.” He left the room with a pointed look at her.

Zoya released an amused laugh. “I’m just glad Nikolai found someone else to bother for a change.” She smiled smugly at Y/N. “Don’t worry, he’s mostly harmless. Just come find me if he gets too handsy, I’ll put him in his place for you.”

Y/N couldn’t believe it. Zoya had definitely sent her a wink before following behind Kaz. Maybe all her flirting had paid off?

“Sweetheart, I’m hurt, you are taking more interest in my general than in your own handsome husband.” Nikolai’s tone was toeing the line between mock hurt and amused.

She turned back to the three men in front of her. “Jesper, please, just shoot me.”

#nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov x you #nikolai #king of scars #six of crows #kaz brekker #zoya nazyalensky #inej ghafa #jesper fahey #wylan van eck #my fic #ari's fic #have i known you 20 seconds or 20 years #nikolai series #leigh bardugo #grishaverse #nikolai lantsov fanfic

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talkfastromance4 · 4 years ago

Text

Fireworks//ashton irwin

Masterlist

NYE Chronicles masterlist

Enjoy! feedback is always welcomed :)

• • • •

Not only was this your first holiday away from home, it was your first holiday in a different country with your boyfriend, Ashton. Leading up to your flight, Ashton was shaking with excitement and talking a mile a minute about all of the places he’s going to take you, the foods you’re going to try, and spending time with his family.

You were excited too but also nervous. You’ve met his mom and siblings over facetime a couple of times, but you’re still nervous if they’ll like you.

Just as you were about to fall asleep before you had to wake up for an early flight, Ashton springs out of bed and flicks the closet light on. You groan into his pillow before leaning on your elbow to watch him search through his carry-on for the hundredth time.

“Babe, what could you possibly forget that you wouldn’t be able to get in Australia?” you groan.

He zips up a pocket, shuts the light off then slips into bed with you.

“I”m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you, angel,” he apologizes. His hand rubs into your back and you feel his lips on your hair.

“What are you even worried about? I’m the one meeting your family for the first time,” you grumble sleepily.

“They already love you. I’m just excited.”

“You’re so excited you won’t even need coffee tomorrow,” you tease. He pinches your side and you giggle as he kisses your neck.

“I always need coffee.”

The seventeen hour flight dragged. You slept for a few hours, tried to walk up and down the aisles to stretch your legs but you were getting antsy. You’re thankful Ashton convinced you to fly first class because you had more room for your legs to stretch but you were still feeling confined.

“Hey, you’re all right,” Ashton says resting his palm on your shaking knee. Your fingers continue to tap on the arm rest but he places his other hand over them to stop the motion. “Only a couple hours left.”

“I’m trying not to freak out,” you mutter and focus on a spot on the seat in front of you.

“I know,” he leans in front of you blocking the background from view. “We’re here together, you’re breathing just fine and the plane isn’t shrinking. Look at me.”

You look into his soft eyes and take a deep breath. His hand rubs your leg in soothing circles and you focus on the rotation until you’ve centered back to yourself. For the rest of the flight you lean your head on Ashton’s shoulder playing with his fingers and he plays with your hair.

Finally, when you land, you’re stretching your arms and legs while Ashton fetches your bags. You’re rolling your head from side to side and shaking your fingers. The weather is warm as you expected and it feels good to breathe in fresh air rather than stale plane aire.

Ashton points out certain spots that are tied to memories of his. You love looking at the scenery and listening to Ashton’s stories. His voice relaxes you and you think you feel the jet lag even though you’ve never experienced it before.

“Angel...wake up, we’re here…”

Ashton’s soft touch on your cheek and his voice in your ear pulls you awake. You hadn’t even realized you fell asleep.

“Where’s here?” you ask groggily.

“My mum’s house,” he chuckles and then you shoot straight up in your seat.

“OW!”

In your speed you end up klunking your head with Ashton’s. He’s rubbing his eye while you rub your head then he giggles.

“I’m sorry!” you exclaim stroking his forehead carefully.

“Are you trying to make a hospital visit to deter meeting my family?” he laughs.

“No, I forgot where I was for a moment,” you shake your head then take a deep breath. “Let’s go.”

The meeting went better than you thought, his mother reminding you of your own. She was very welcoming and hugged you on arrival. Each day leading up to Christmas was full of experiencing traditions Ashton has done since he was little.

“When the hell did you get these?” Ashton asks coming up behind you in the bathroom. You’re rubbing moisturizer on your face, his hands rubbing over your ass that is more accentuated because of your new leggings.

“A few weeks ago,” you shrug, “they’re the leggings I kept seeing on TikTok and I wanted a pair. Do they look okay?”

“Are they supposed to make your ass look this good?” he gives you a squeeze for good measure.

“That’s the point, yes,” you giggle at his reflection.

“And you’re planning on wearing these in front of my mum?” his eyebrows raise and his hands keep roaming over your ass.

“No, these are just for sleeping. We’re going to wear matching onesies tomorrow for Christmas morning.”

“Is that so?” he spins you around lifting you onto the bathroom counter, your legs wrap around his waist. “I want to enjoy you in these first.”

His lips attach to yours in a frenzied kiss, his large hands roaming over your backside. The two of you end up covering each other’s mouths when you finally connect, you can’t be as loud as you normally are with his family just downstairs.

New Year’s Eve has finally arrived and Ashton curated a delicious meal. When it was nearing midnight he took you for a drive along the coast then stopped where other cars were gathered along the beach.

“What’s this?” you ask taking his hand as he leads you towards the shore. He settles a blanket in the sand and sits down, patting his thigh for you to join him. Once you’re in between his legs he wraps his arms around you and kisses your cheek.

“This is a tradition every New Year’s. Just wait.”

The cool breeze makes you shiver but Ashton’s body heat keeps you warm as you wait for whatever it is you’re here for.

“Ten...nine...eight…” Ashton murmurs in your ear counting down with the other patrons on the beach. For some reason your heart accelerates at the countdown. He tilts your face towards his. “Four..three...two...one.”

Ashton presses his lips to yours just as fireworks explode behind you. You can see the bright explosions of color behind your eyes but you’re more preoccupied with the fireworks between you and Ashton.

“Happy New Year, angel,” he whispers in between kisses.

“Happy New Year,” you smile rubbing the beard on his cheeks.

You sit together wrapped in each other’s arms watching the light show and the way it illuminates over the body of water. You take photos of some and a few snapshots of you and Ashton kissing below the light show.

When it’s ended and you head back to his mom’s house, the lights are out and you settle on the couch with Ashton. He comes out of the kitchen with some sparkling juice, his months of sobriety have been excellent and you’re more than happy to be on that journey with him. He turns on the tv so you can watch the rest of the world welcome the new year.

“I like how it’s already the new year for us,” you say as he settles next to you. “It’s like we time traveled and we’re here in the new year alone.”

“You’d want to be the only two people in the world?” he laughs.

“Only with you,” you smile and squeeze his knee.

When the bottle of sparkling is halfway through, Ashton bolts from the couch and leaves the room. Thinking he went to the bathroom you pay it no mind and take another sip of the juice watching the New York feed as they only have ten minutes until the ball drops.

Ashton returns but instead of sitting next to you, he kneels in front of you, his eyes wide with excitement.

“What are you--?”

“I was thinking of doing this on your birthday, or our anniversary, even on Christmas morning or earlier tonight at the fireworks,” he starts and you’re more confused.

“Doing what?”

He pulls out a small box from behind his back. Your eyes dart from the box to his face about a dozen times until it clicks and you gasp.

“I wanted the moment to be perfect but every moment with you is perfect,” he continues and opens the box. He takes your hand. “I love you endlessly. Will you marry me?”

You sit in shock at the moment, then the ring makes you stop breathing because it’s so beautiful. Your head is swimming as you realize he kept checking his bag to make sure had the ring inside and didn’t forget it at home.

“Y/N?”

“I’m sorry! I’m--of course I’ll marry you! I feel like I’m dreaming, yes, Ashton, yes!” you stretch over to kiss him happily and he slips the ring on your finger. “I love you.”

“I love you,” he says and starts to remove your leggings. When the ball drops on the tv so does Ashton in between your legs as you celebrate the new year all over again.

Taglist: @calpalirwin @thecurlsofgod @myloverboyash @rotten-kandy @tea4sykes @jannimoeller3 @loveroflrh @iovehemmings @cxddlyash @princesslrh @katiaw2 @g-l-pierce @fairyintheglass @gosh-im-short @lukeisbaby @spicycal @mysticalhood @notinthesameguey @wastedheartcth @itjustkindahappenedreally @calumance @babylon-corgis @thew0rldneedsmcreycghurt @lanternlover2 @istaywithmyjonas @calteahood @sarcastically-defensive17 @another-lonely-heart @devilatmydoor @frontmanash @philthepegacorn @mantlereid @lukedorkyhemmings @addietagglikesbands @kikixfandoms @sanrioluke @mayve-hems @morguelth @haikucal @thatscooibaby @meghanrose05 @idontneedanyone @dinosaursandsocks @haveufoundwhaturlooking4 @suchalonelysunflower @burstintocolor @zhangyixingxing1 @dead-and-golden @mymindwide @everyscarisahealingplace @stardust-galaxies @blackbutterfliescal @redrattlers @lovelybonesetc @karajaynetoday @quasighost @i-like-5sos @creampiecashton @calpops @superbloomed-c @ophelia-enthusiast @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof @flaneurcth @dariangarcia

#nye chronicles #ashton irwin oneshot #ashton irwin fluff #ashton fluff #ashton 5sos #ashton writing #ashton irwin writing #5sos writing #5sos fluff

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comfy-whumpee · 4 years ago

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Father, Husband, Slave

Sequel to @ashintheairlikesnow‘s piece, which has now been published. Savvie is her monster and is used with permission.

TW: abuse, implied child abuse/neglect, whumpee forced to have children with whumper, romantic whumper.

Taglist: @lonesome--hunter, @iaminamoodymoodtoday, @wildfaewhump, @ishouldblogmore, @lektricwhump, @that-one-thespian, @raigash, @burtlederp, @rosesareviolentlyread, @whumptywhumpdump

She makes him listen to her album for the entire drive. It’s an hour and twenty minutes to the airport, time enough for him to hear every track twice. She’s been all about Bella recently, the album she titled after the daughter whose name she does not truly know. But today, on their supposedly romantic getaway, she returns – as she always does – to Firecracker. The album she wrote for him.

Except he hates it. It’s not for him. It’s for her image of him, the story she has composed around them both, the fairy tale curse he can’t break. While the children are locked away, and their Cinderella does her best to keep them safe, Jax is the boy with a shard digging against his heart, and Savvie is the Snow Queen that takes him away to her castle and refuses to let him go.

Firecracker is full of sweeping, gallant tunes that speak of classical romance, according to the reviews she had him read to her in the lounge on sunny afternoons. In Jax’s opinion, Firecracker is the assassination of his selfhood, dressed in pretty pictures to cover the obsession underneath. Nobody but his father knows that the album is about him, and that’s only if his dad found out about it, and recognises the childhood nickname he’d persuaded Savvie to use.

Jax hates it. It’s the grand, heavy expectation of her so-called love, blasting out through the shitty car speaker on repeat while Savvie reminisces about each track and each moment of his captivity that inspired it, stories that he’s heard a thousand times before, and lived besides that.

“I like h-hearing you talk about your music,” he tells her, between shudders of the shocks she laid on him, when they were back at home and he tried to persuade her to wait before dragging him out the door. He tells her this so that she’ll keep talking, and he barely has to reply.

He didn’t know about the trip until ten minutes before they left. He’d known that she was up to something, and that she’d been moody recently, complaining about losing his audience for her practise time so that he could put the kids down for their naps. She’d been snappy at Izzy at breakfast, telling her not to look so miserable, not recognising the conciliatory smile as a performance his little girl had inherited straight from her father. He’d known the signs and hadn’t seen what was coming.

He should have known. This is what he thinks about, as she drives him to the airport to take him to another country with his forged passport, for a holiday he doesn’t want, away from a home he hates and a family he loves. He should have known this was coming. Now, Izzy and Jamie are going to wake up without their father, and Hannah will only be able to say that he’s gone. She won’t be able to tell them that he’s coming back.

He doesn’t know if he is.

She’s always talked about moving them away. To Russia, she says, where classical musicians are respected and the language is as alien to Jax as hieroglyphics, and any law enforcement trying to reach him will be entangled hopelessly in red tape.

He doesn’t know where they’re going. It’s a surprise, she says.

He just hopes, once he’s at the airport, that the destination isn’t Moscow.

Savvie lapses into silence as the album finishes. There’s a brief pause of silence before it repeats again, fading into a single sustained note.

“This is good,” she sighs happily. “Time for just us two. You’ve been so preoccupied recently.”

He was trying to teach Izzy to read.

“You’re my husband, after all,” she reminds him, her eyes moving to him, chips of ice in a snow-white face. “I should be your priority.”

“You are, Miss Savvie,” he tells her, rote and instant, words barren of feelings she won’t allow. Then, because he has to cover for those empty spaces, he adds, “I love you.”

She melts whenever he says it first, but only on the surface. She’s frozen all the way down. “Oh, honey, I love you too. See, you’re doing so much better already.”

His relationship to her is a performance on which he is graded. His reviews come daily, in words, or in actions, or in small cruelties towards his two helpless children, conceived only to expand her arsenal of weapons over him.

He looks away from her eyes, when she glances over again. Izzy’s eyes are his hazel-brown, earth and warmth and golden light.

Jamie’s too.

But he can’t be a father right now. He’s her husband, Savannah Marcoset’s perfect, pliant man. The Snow Queen takes the winter with her wherever she goes.

The fire that once defined him is a hearth, now. The only things left to be warmed by it are his children. When Savvie gets him alone, makes him alone, builds walls and drives wedges between himself and the children he was not supposed to love more than her, he allows the embers to hide under white ash, indistinguishable from snow.

He tried. He tried not to love them. They told him not to. But it had come, hard and burning, a comet through Savvie’s cold winter sky. A falling star.

What is it that happens in the story? Does love melt the boy’s frozen heart, or is it tears?

He can’t remember. Maybe Savvie changed the channel before they reached the end.

Firecracker ends for the second time. The airport is in sight. He still doesn’t know where he’s going, or if he’s coming back.

She pulls up. He gives her the smile that Izzy learned, and she beams back, eyes lit with joy at separating him from everything else, again.

He braves the question. “Where are we going, Miss Savvie?”

She sparkles. White, distant stars in a cold black sky. “Russia.”

#whump #parent whumpee #intimate whumper #romantic whumper #possessive whumper #child abuse tw #jealous whumper #abuse tw #savvie is a monster #jax #my fic #enslavement #dad jax #he's like dark jax but he has something to fight for

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oumakokichi · 4 years ago

Note

Welcome back!!! I’m not sure if you’re taking any requests regarding analyses/meta, but if you’re looking for any ideas/when you have the time, do you mind doing a character analysis on Shuichi Saihara? I understand that he’s the main character but there is a lack of analyses about him. Although there are few, most explore his role as a protagonist/relationships with the others rather than digging deep into his character/personality. I just feel like there is more to him.

Hi anon, thank you so much! I’d be happy to write a character analysis for Saihara. I’m pretty sure I wrote some pieces specifically about his character back in the day, but those are all pretty old by now, and there’s definitely so much to talk about with his character.

Obviously discussing Saihara in-depth will cover spoilers for the entire game, so be careful when reading!

It’s interesting that you bring up the fact that Saihara tends to lack more character analyses, because I feel like this is kind of the result of a few different factors. First of all, there’s the fact that he was never originally advertised as the game’s protagonist. I know that the bait-and-switch with Kaede left many people conflicted; even years later, I see a lot of people saying that while they like Saihara a lot, they would’ve preferred for Kaede to live, or that they still don’t know quite how to feel about his role as a protagonist as a result.

Combine that with the fact that Saihara is simply so different in his role in the game than either Naegi or Hinata were, and I think this leaves a lot of people either uninterested in analyzing him as an individual character or unclear of where to start. Ndrv3’s themes as a whole are such a drastic departure from the Hope’s Peak arc of the first two games that Saihara himself sometimes tends to get overlooked, despite the fact that I firmly believe no one would have worked better as the protagonist of the game precisely because of these very different themes.

This itself is an interesting proposal, because at the same time, I also believe that ndrv3’s cast had the biggest potential for every single character to be the “protagonist” of their own narrative. Not only is this just straight-up alluded to with the reveal that Kiibo was actually the audience proxy, and therefore the “protagonist” through which most of the audience were experiencing the killing game in chapter 6, but we even get brief playable moments with both Maki and Himiko, further driving home the narrative that these characters all had the potential to be the main character. You could even argue that the abundance of ahoges in the ndrv3 cast is a tongue-in-cheek joke about how many people must have had “protagonist syndrome” when auditioning for the show.

But having a cast full of potential main characters still doesn’t negate the fact that Saihara was simply the best choice possible for the protagonist of ndrv3 specifically. I don’t believe we would’ve had nearly the same experience without viewing most of the events through the lens of his inner narration and character growth, and that his specific role in the story as the detective was the perfect way to encapsulate the game’s themes of truth and lies.

Let’s begin by discussing Saihara’s actual personality: he’s timid, riddled with anxiety, and incredibly prone to doubting himself and his own abilities. These traits are at the core of his arc of character development throughout the story, as he constantly struggles with his own feelings of inadequacy and lack of self-worth despite being the most vital contributor to everyone’s survival in the class trials.

Even before he’s revealed to be the true protagonist of the game, these traits are incredibly easy to see from an outside lens. By playing as Kaede, however briefly, we nonetheless get a good look at what Saihara is like even in chapter 1; his lack of self-esteem and debilitating issues with anxiety and doubt are, if anything, even more noticeable when put into such stark contrast with Kaede’s optimism, self-confidence, and attempts to bolster the group into working together and believing in one another.

In fact, it’s through Kaede that we first get a glimpse of Saihara’s backstory, and slowly come to understand that his timidity and anxiety are largely shaped by his past trauma. Saihara feels personally responsible for ruining a man’s life after accidentally uncovering the truth of the man’s crimes, then later learning that he was attempting to get revenge on the person who murdered his entire family. The knowledge that he not only ruined this man’s attempts at revenge, but that this person actively hates him with a passion, has left Saihara emotionally scarred and deeply afraid of even maintaining eye contact with others.

As simple as this little bit of backstory is, I really love it in all of its presentation, because even in chapter 1, it begins to paint a much clearer picture of what Saihara is like. His inability to say no to people and attempts to please everyone begin to make a lot more sense knowing that he is incredibly afraid of being hated or blamed by other people. His reluctance to come into his own as a detective or acknowledge his obvious talent makes perfect sense knowing that he can never fully “bring justice” to a number of crimes, and that his job is by definition one that sometimes makes other people miserable by shedding a light on the truth—even when, sometimes, it might be better to leave the truth covered up.

This established backstory also immediately sets Saihara apart from previous protagonists like Naegi and Hinata, by first shaping him into a separate character who we get to know in chapter 1, and only later re-introducing him as the actual protagonist of the game. This isn’t to say that Naegi and Hinata don’t have established character flaws, or that we don’t know anything about their life prior to the killing game. But these two are very clearly set up to be more of the “everyman” protagonist than Saihara ever was: characters who the reader can insert themselves into by some degree, and whose primary traits tend to revolve around feeling “average” or “mundane” in a way that your typical reader will usually relate to much more quickly.

This makes sense for the Hope’s Peak arc shared by both dr1 and sdr2. These games in particular are centered around the narrative of a “talent-driven society” where only the most talented, elite in their field are rewarded with entry into the “best school in the country”—a narrative that is no doubt supposed to be commentary on Japan’s extremely competitive academic system and society in real life.

With Naegi, we see perhaps the best example of a truly average, normal person thrust into a group of these whacky elites. We trust Naegi almost instantly as a protagonist, specifically because his lack of any particular superpower-like talent makes him more relatable to the reader. And his contributions to the trials and eventual friendships with the other students are meaningful precisely because they prove that you don’t need these incredible talents or make outstanding contributions to society in order to be a fundamentally good person who helps others and forges real, genuine bonds with people.

Hinata’s narrative takes this idea of averageness among “the elite” and takes it a step further in terms of narrative complexity: not only does Hinata lack any sort of talent or trait that would make him stand out, but specifically because of this, he desperately craves a talent of his own. Hinata is incredibly easy for readers to relate to as someone who, in a competitive society where talent is everything, feels useless and meaningless without an elite-level talent of his own. This struggle with identity and self-worth in a talent-driven society is something that most readers will also have experienced on some level, and so makes Hinata instantly relatable and likable for most people.

Which takes us back to Saihara—again, I want to stress how different the setup for his backstory and even his personality are from our previous two protagonists. Saihara isn’t meant to be a self-insert for the reader, or instantly identified with the same way Naegi and Hinata were.

Even other bits and pieces of his backstory and home life, which we learn from his FTEs with Kaede in chapter 1, as well as portions of their salmon mode together, show how incredibly eccentric Saihara is compared to the other two. Saihara doesn’t come from what one might call a “typical home life.” He’s estranged from his wealthy, celebrity parents, and lives with his uncle, who is also a detective. His FTEs reveal that he’s spent his time wrestling alligators and, to put it nicely, being a huge weirdo for most of his life. He’s not our “everyman protagonist” by any means; he’s yet another whacky Danganronpa character who happened to be thrust into the protagonist spotlight through his role as a detective.

In short, Saihara is not what most people would expect from a protagonist in any story, let alone a DR game. He’s certainly not the “everyman,” between his established backstory and somewhat eccentric home life. And he doesn’t have the usual set of traits most people would expect from a protagonist, either. Unlike Naegi and Kaede, who are by and large optimistic, cooperative, and somewhat confident in themselves, or Hinata, who is assertive and forward-thinking, Saihara is… extremely pessimistic, anxious, and lacks any confidence in himself whatsoever.

And yet, in spite of all this, I think many people can and do relate to Saihara. I know I certainly do. Having a character who explicitly struggles with issues like anxiety and depression, not only as the result of the killing game itself (which would understandably fuck anyone’s mental health up irreparably), but even before entering the game, is something I absolutely love about ndrv3. Saihara is hardly the only character to struggle with these issues within the DR franchise, or hell, even just within ndrv3 itself, but it’s hard to ignore how textually canon his depression is when he spends multiple scenes in chapter 5 lying in bed and thinking, “there’s no reason to live, there’s no reason to live” over and over again.

Saihara’s specific set of character traits may set him apart from the “average” reader, but for people who struggle themselves with mental health and self-worth, I think his character hits close to home in a very different way. Over and over again, throughout the narrative, Saihara is called “weak”—by the people around him and even by himself. This “weakness” is a fundamental part of his character that simply wasn’t there with Naegi or Hinata; while the two of them were certainly considered “average” in one way or another, they were never described as “weak” or “lacking what it takes to survive” the way Saihara consistently is.

And it’s true, on some level, that Saihara is what most people might consider “weak.” At the very least, he’s dependent: quick to latch on to anyone who shows him even the slightest sign of affirmation or support, reluctant to admit to his own talent or take credit for his own accomplishments, and unsure of whether he can actually meet other people’s expectations without some kind of helping hand or support.

We see him immediately grow attached first to Kaede, then later to Momota, constantly seeking out a larger, more charismatic personality to hide behind. He’s so unsure of himself that he would rather let other people who he sees as “more likable” or “more crucial” to the group get all the attention and the spotlight; we see this lampshaded somewhat in chapter 4, when everyone nonetheless begins to single him out as the main reason they’re still alive, and he’s clearly baffled and uncertain as to how to reply to the praise and recognition.

Even what little we see of his pregame self from his audition video fits within this framework. Despite a lot of fan portrayals of pregame Saihara (often called “Inchara” or “Kagehara” in a lot of Japanese fanworks) as someone undeniably “evil” or “irredeemable” for actively wanting to participate in a killing game… in the end, all we really know about him is that he is desperate to die. He talks about wanting to kill people, yes, but the emphasis is placed on how much thought and effort he put into his own execution. Even before entering the killing game at all, we can clearly see that Saihara went in with the specific intention of dying.

He wants to play a detective if at all possible, but it’s clear that he’s desperate, nearly feverish, at the idea of “being a part of the world of Danganronpa” at all, in any capacity. This obsession itself feels like a form of unhealthy attachment, and is a clear sign that he (and most of the participants, if we’re reading between the lines) is so damaged and downright suicidal that he views getting 15 minutes of fame on his favorite TV show as the absolute best way to go out. In a word, he’s still “weak,” long before becoming the fictional character version of “Shuuichi Saihara,” and it’s this weakness that Tsumugi herself says she wanted to encapsulate in the show, by making him “weaker than anyone else.”

It’s this “weakness” that I honestly love best about Saihara’s entire character. Because while a large part of his character arc is certainly about becoming stronger and more confident in himself, it’s also a fact that his “weakness” never explicitly goes away. His depression isn’t just magically cured by the end of the story, and he doesn’t wake up one day deciding that his struggle with suicidal thoughts or feelings of worthlessness are over. If anything, chapter 6 ends with a huge subversion of this “magically cured” trope in most fiction, by having Saihara embrace his own weakness as something that actually helps him arrive at a third option when presented with the seemingly black-or-white choice of “hope vs. despair.”

Saihara is, as he admits himself, “weak.” He’s unable to choose the forward-facing optimism that “hope” represents in the killing game—moreso if that “hope” only contributes to the cycle of the killing game itself, enticing people into wanting to see more and more of it. But he doesn’t pick “despair” either, exactly. His inability to choose between this forced dilemma is specifically because he realizes how sick and cruel it really is, and empathizes all the more deeply with the suffering he and his classmates went through. It’s this “weakness” of his that allows him to really put into words how much pain they all went through, and how their pain matters, regardless of whether they’re fictional or not.

It’s an incredible moment in the game, and probably the point at which he became my favorite protagonist in the DR franchise, as well as one of my favorite characters in the series overall. Saihara’s character arc, unlike Naegi and Hinata, was never about “moving forward” or “choosing hope.” He says himself that he’s not the kind of person who can simply make a choice like that. Rather, his arc is about toeing the grey line between “truth” and “lies.”

As we mentioned earlier, Saihara is a detective. In any mystery novel, a detective’s role is to seek out the truth and expose it, no matter how tragic or upsetting the outcome might be. So it’s interesting, then, that by the end of the game, Saihara ultimately comes to understand and even value the concept of “lies.” For someone who knows exactly how painful the truth can be, and who is unable to simply live life optimistically in spite of that truth, the recognition of “gentle lies” told for the sake of helping someone cope, of finding meaning in an otherwise meaningless or cruel life, is incredibly important.

Unlike the Hope’s Peak arc, which sort of placed “hope vs. despair” as some very black-or-white battle with a clear winner (even when some aspects of the series, like dr3, also sort of suggest the idea that it’s an ongoing cycle that keeps repeating itself), there is no real battle or winner between the concept of “truth and lies.” In the end, both are equally important. Saihara both embraces his role as a detective and acknowledges the power that the truth has on people, while simultaneously acknowledging that lies (and therefore fiction) also has power and can be used to influence people and even inspire the world.

This character development is just absolutely fantastic to see, after watching Saihara struggle with so much pain and grief over the course of the game. Seeing a character actually acknowledge the importance of “lies” and “fiction” precisely because of how important of a motivator it can be to depressed, broken people is incredibly satisfying, and not something we often get in most stories. The fact that Saihara is so undeniably “weak,” that he isn’t the type of character you would usually expect to live to the end given how suicidal and deeply traumatized he is, makes his survival at the very end all the more of an uplifting message.

You don’t need to be “cured” to find a reason to live. You don’t have to magically wake up with the most positive, forward-facing outlook in life. You can be “weak” and depressed and hurting inside, and in the end, you still deserve to live, and have the opportunity to find meaning in your own life, whether it’s through truth or fiction.

This has gotten pretty long by now, but I hope I could make it clear exactly why I love Saihara so much. I understand people’s dissatisfaction with the protagonist-swap, and while I perfectly understand that he isn’t for everyone, he’s still a fantastically written character in my opinion, with a wonderful and meaningful arc of development that really resonated with me, as someone who also has struggled with similar mental health issues. I think the decision to do something extremely different from Naegi and Hinata was an excellent decision, and while I still love both of them as characters in their own right, Saihara is just so compelling both as an individual character and the protagonist of ndrv3.

Thank you for the question anon, and thank you to those of you who read to the end! I hope I could offer a decent character analysis!

#danganronpa #shuichi saihara #saihara shuichi #shuuichi saihara #ndrv3 #ndrv3 spoilers //#ask #anonymous #my meta #okay to reblog

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xjoonchildx · 5 years ago

Text

airplane, pt. 2 | jjk x reader chapter one: ICN --> LAX

pairing: jungkook/reader word count: 6.4K rating: 18+

genre: smut | silly smut | nonsensical smut

warnings: criminal!jungkook, koreanamerican!jungkook, highly improbable condom placement, unrealistic use of available sex space, reality has left the chat, plausibility has left the chat

Chapter 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06

artwork by the shmexy @ppersonna who’s smut is even better than her art

*************************

One day it works out too well, then the next day I’m completely screwed (I still) Who should I live as today, Kim Namjoon or RM? 25, I still don’t know how to live well So, today as well, we just go -- Airplane, Pt. 2 BTS

**************************

Jungkook Jeon is basically your Carmen Sandiego.

You stare down at the photocopy of the state of California driver’s license in your hand, into the face of the brash little fucker you’ve been chasing across the globe for the better part of a year.

He looks barely old enough to drive.

Of course, this picture was taken years ago when he was a sophomore at Stanford. Back before he dropped out of school despite being in the top of his class. Back before he broke the law by taking six million dollars of someone else’s money, then broke his parents’ hearts by disappearing without a trace.

You should already have him in custody — and If he were like any of the other greedy assholes you usually chase, he would be. But instead, Jungkook Jeon has managed to deflect and dodge and avoid you at every turn for months.

It’s driving you fucking insane.

One time, you’d been so certain about cornering him in Argentina that you’d boarded a plane with a pair of thick-necked US Marshals and flown south. You��d had to head back to the States empty-handed and sunburnt and pissed.

The real kicker was when you’d gotten home and opened a one-line email – encrypted to hell and back – with a picture of your FBI Academy graduation headshot attached.

you’re so hot i almost want to get caught. almost.

That had hurt.

So you’d had to lick your wounds, bide your time and wait for a man who apparently didn’t make mistakes to make a mistake. And for a while, he didn’t.

Until he did.

**************************************

Agent Kim Namjoon is definitely not the pencil pusher you imagined him to be during your many phone calls and other interactions.

No, the man who meets you and your team at Incheon International Airport is what the kids these days call a snack. He is tall and broad and wears a pair of dark thick-rimmed glasses that should make him look like a giant nerd but somehow don’t.

Very, very cute.

“Welcome to Korea,” he says with an easy smile. You smile back, then clear your throat and remind yourself you’re not here to flirt with your contact with Korea’s National Intelligence Service.

Seriously.

Agent Kim’s English is immaculate – this you already knew since you’ve exchanged more than a few calls in recent weeks. He’s got his own team ready for briefing at his headquarters. After a quick drive, you’re all in one room going over the plan.

His guys have tracked Jeon to a high-end restaurant in Seoul where he’s been working for a few months. They already have a rough sketch of the area. You’re going to block off every exit, cover every angle, and make sure there’s no way he’s getting out of that restaurant without coming through one of you.

This should go off without a hitch – but then you remember Argentina and frown.

“He’s there. My guys are ready to go,” Agent Kim says, after taking a quick call on his cell phone.

It’s decided, then.

You load into black vans and take off for the west end of the city. Agent Kim drives and you have the chance to look out the window at the streets. It’s a beautiful place, you think. Agent Kim seems to read your mind.

“You should come back sometime,” he says. “When you’re not here on business.”

Sigh. You’re going to have to flirt with this man, aren’t you?

“I would like that. Maybe you could show me around some time,” you reply.

His eyes stay on the road – his hands locked at 10 and 2 – but you see the ghost of a smile pass over his lips. You smile to yourself and look back out the window.

Minutes later you’re parked outside an industrial-looking brick building. Gleaming glass-and-stone condos and perfectly manicured greenscaping confirm you are in a high-dollar neighborhood. It’s a Saturday night in a ritzy part of Seoul and you’re probably about to ruin someone’s date night.

Or maybe rescue it, depending on the date.

You stare out at the restaurant and imagine Jungkook Jeon inside, going about his life without realizing you’re here to throw a wrench into all his plans. You get a little thrill when you imagine the look on his face when he realizes the gig is up. Victory is so close you can taste it.

Agent Kim gets a call from his point man, everyone is in place.

Showtime.

******************************

“Is that consommé? It looks like consommé. What do you think, Agent Kim?”

Jungkook Jeon looks shaken for a moment when you step in front of the table where’s he’s just laid out a picture-perfect pair of starters. His guests, a nicely-dressed older couple, also look shaken as they glance nervously between you, Agent Kim, and their now permanently off-duty server.

He straightens to his full height.

The youthful roundness of the face you’ve stared at so long in that driver’s license picture is gone. You have no idea what this guy’s been eating for the past few years, but in place of that baby-faced kid is a man, tall and broad and muscular. Tattoos you can’t make out run across his hands, up his arms, and disappear into the white dress shirt he has rolled to the elbows. His hair is on the long side, pulled back, giving you an unobstructed view of what can only be described as a perfect face. Serious, literal perfection.

Good grief.

Somehow the little shit recovers from his shock in an instant. He smirks, despite his clear disadvantage.

“I gotta say, you look even better in person.”

Oh yeah? So do you.

You ignore his opening line.

“It’s time to come home, Mr. Jeon. Pay the piper and all that.”

He has the nerve to roll his eyes and your hand itches with the desire to punch him in his stupid fucking perfect face.

“Teamed up with some Korean suits, huh?” He gives Agent Kim the once-over and apparently finds him lacking.

“Mr. Jeon,” you feign a scandalized tone. “Just how do you think I was raised? It would be downright rude to barge into a sovereign country without an invitation. Besides, Agent Kim here has been an absolute pleasure.”

You could hear a pin drop inside this restaurant right now. Every knife and fork and glass has come to rest on the fine white linen on these tables. The guests are frozen in place, taking in the strange scene.

Dinner and a show tonight, guys.

Jungkook doesn’t move an inch. You’d half expected him to just walk up, accept his cuffs and get this show on the road. But no, apparently he’s in a talking mood.

“Tell me how you found me.”

You sigh. You’re not a pair of girlfriends catching up over coffee. You open your mouth to say just that, but Agent Kim speaks up.

“We had a source come through with some very specific information on you.”

“Oh, I think Agent Kim is being far too kind,” you counter. “What he means to say is that your Korean sucks. You see, Mr. Jeon, you may look like them,” you gesture at the restaurant full of guests, “but you sound like us. Let’s just say you stick out like a sore thumb here.”

The corners of his eyes crinkle in amusement at the jab.

“I hated Korean school, you know.”

“It shows.”

He laughs.

Agent Kim clears his throat as if to remind you both that you’re not alone.

“Well this isn’t a social call, and I’m sure all these fine people would love to get back to their meals. So why don’t we finish this chat on the way back to the United States, Mr. Jeon?” you say, getting back to the task at hand.

Agent Kim signals his guys and they swoop in to put him in cuffs. He doesn’t resist, just holds out his hands and shoots you his most flirtatious smile.

“I’m going to hold you to that, Agent.”

On your way out the door, you glance over at the consommé and hope it’s supposed to be served cold.

**********************************

“What is a man who stole six million dollars doing waiting tables at a restaurant?” you muse out loud.

Jungkook Jeon is in the backseat of Agent Kim’s black SUV, looking out the window.

“I had to have some kind of story, right? Besides, I kind of liked it.”

“You didn’t get to spend the money,” you say.

“Not really,” he admits. “It’s much easier to fantasize about blowing millions of dollars than it is to actually do it.”

“Tsk, tsk, Mr. Jeon. What a shame.”

He leans forward in the backseat, hands cuffed in front of him.

“You know what would really be a shame, Agent? If I don’t get the chance to fuck you before you lock me up.”

A muscle twitches in Agent Kim’s jaw.

“Watch your mouth,” he warns, glaring into the rearview mirror. You immediately decide you like him a little stern. It’s pretty hot.

“Mr. Jeon, you and your dick will be free to do whatever you’d both like in about twenty years. That’s how this whole grand larceny and evasion thing works,” you say, ignoring the sensation that spreads across the back of your neck at his crass words.

He whistles.

“I’m really going to waste my best-looking years in prison.”

No kidding.

“Oh, don’t be too disappointed,” you say sweetly. “I hear there are a few advantages to having such a pretty face behind bars.”

You hear the clink of his cuffs and look into your rearview just in time to see him give you the finger.

*********************************

The government can be so cheap sometimes.

You’d have loved to pull right up to the tarmac at Incheon International, walk right onto a chartered plane like the Feds do in the movies. But alas, private flights are definitely not in the budget.

Instead, you have to settle for regular seats on a Korean Air flight. You’d been in touch with the airline ahead of time and they’d offered you and your team privacy in the back rows of the plane – complete with a curtain separator. You really couldn’t blame them for not wanting passengers to be greeted by a handcuffed man and his gun-toting babysitters.

Smart move all around.

Seating arrangements are decided, you and Jungkook on one side of the aisle, your two Marshals on the other. They’re both smart men, highly-skilled and boring as hell. You’d already had to suffer through their small talk on the fourteen-hour long flight here, and you’d be damned if you had to do it again on the way back.

“Are you going to let me have a drink?” Jungkook asks, as soon as you’re settled into your seats.

“Of course,” you reply, scrolling through a few emails on your phone. “What’s your favorite kind of juice?”

He snorts.

“It’s gonna be a long flight unless you play nice,” he warns.

“Mr. Jeon,” you sigh. “Shut up.”

He shakes his handcuffs.

“You could at least take these off,” he grumbles. “Not like I can walk off of a moving plane.”

“Nope,” you reply, affecting your best bored tone. You grab a magazine out of the seatback and pretend to leaf through it.

“So you want me to sit here – no phone, no headphones, no nothing – for fourteen hours?”

“Better to practice that ‘bored out of your mind’ routine sooner rather than later. I’m sure it’s gonna come in handy.”

You don’t look his way, but you can feel the glare he’s fixed on you and you have to fight the urge to smile.

******************************

The flight attendant who rolls a giant drink cart into your quiet section of this plane looks like a doll. Porcelain skin, huge eyes and the whitest smile you have ever seen.

Jungkook straightens in his seat immediately. He’s been pouting for the last hour but now he sees this dazzling young woman and his game face is back on.

“Hello,” he says, flashing her a smile.

Then he stops — seems to remember his audience — and resumes the exchange in Korean. You stare at him as he makes eyes at the flight attendant, working her with the confidence of a man who is not wearing handcuffs right now.

She blushes deeply at something he says before turning back to her cart to pour a Jack and Coke.

“Are you serious, Jeon?”

He smiles.

“You don’t hate me, right? Like, obviously I’ve pissed you off, but you don’t hate me. Because only a person who hated me would stop me from having a drink on my way to federal prison.”

You open your mouth to protest, but instead decide that he’s right. He’s a thief – not a killer for pete’s sake.

A super-hot, ridiculously charming, complete asshole of a thief who is definitely not getting under your skin by flirting with the flight attendant right now.

The porcelain doll turns back and hands him his cocktail and Jungkook winks at her. This man just accepted his drink with his hands in fucking handcuffs and this woman is blushing at him like he just asked for her number in a nightclub.

“Are you done?” you hiss.

“With what?” he asks innocently, cuffs clinking as he lifts the drink to his mouth.

“Eye-fucking the flight attendant.”

He feigns shock. “Are you – are you…jealous?”

You scoff and turn your attention back to your magazine.

He leans close.

“Don’t be jealous,” he says, blowing whiskey-scented breath into your ear. “I wanted you first. I’m only flirting with her because you’re really mean to me.”

He leans back and takes another sip of his drink.

There is something about this mischievous boy-man with the chiseled body and the smart mouth. He certainly has a charm. You’re certain he’s been able to use that charm to get out of more than a few sticky situations over the years.

“I wasn’t kidding you know,” he says. “About wanting to fuck you.”

He shakes the ice in his glass to show off that he’s already drained it and gives you another one of those self-assured smiles that’s really starting to piss you off. You drop your gaze back to your magazine.

“I’m not going to fuck you,” you state simply, pretending to have a deep interest in some blurb about face masks.

“No? Are you sure about that?”

“You are mind-bogglingly arrogant for a man who is headed to prison for the next two decades,” you reply dryly.

“Probably headed to prison,” he corrects. “Innocent until proven guilty, due process and all that. Unless things have changed? I realize it’s been a while since I’ve been home.”

You snort.

“Okay fine, you’re right. I’m headed to prison for the next twenty years which is why it’s imperative that you fuck me now. Immediately. Anything else would be,” he gives a dramatic shake of his head, “Inhumane.”

This time you can’t help but laugh and one of the Marshals across the aisle gives you a disapproving look, like he’s been forced to chaperone a pair of giggling teenagers.

You clear your throat and look back down at your magazine, force the smile off your face.

“Argentina,” you say. “How did you get out of there before I got to you?”.

The flight attendant returns with another drink and another smile for him.

“You want something, I want something,” he says, taking a long sip. “Maybe we could work something out?”

“I’m not going to fuck you for information, Jeon. All of that will soon come out in the wash,” you sigh.

“Then fuck me for charity. For good will. Fuck me because it’s the least you can do since you’re blowing up my entire life right now.”

You roll your eyes.

“You blew up your life, you idiot. You’re the one who intercepted a wire transfer and stole six million bucks. You’ve already been fucked. You fucked yourself.”

He smiles wistfully for a moment.

“Yeah, you’ve got a point there.”

*******************************

You stop him at three drinks.

His eyes have taken on a soft quality and his entire energy is a bit more relaxed with some booze in his system. It’s hard, it’s really hard to ignore how hot this man is without even trying.

But when he tries? Then it’s damned near impossible.

You check your watch. You still have seven hours to go on this flight.

“Luck,” he says, suddenly.

“Excuse me?” you say, looking up from your magazine.

“You wanted to know how I got out of Argentina in time. I was gonna make up some fancy story about how I’d figured out you were on to me and beat the clock to get away but the truth is, I was just lucky. I’d already been there too long and I was getting restless. I was ready to go.”

Hmm. So the booze has made him talkative.

“Your landlord said we’d missed you by one day,” you counter.

“Yup,” he laughs, closing his eyes momentarily as if reliving the thrill of the chase. “I used to have a lot of luck, actually. Before I ran into you.”

“Sorry about that.”

“No you’re not.”

“Fair enough,” you say and the two of you share a laugh. You open a bag of pretzels and offer him one. He begrudgingly accepts.

“Why did you take the money?”

He chews thoughtfully for a moment.

“Because I wanted to know if I could. I didn’t think I was gonna pull it off, but again, it was my luck. Once I figured out how to do it, I just did.”

“How remarkably stupid,” you breathe, a smile on your face. He smiles, too.

“Yeah, well. I said I was lucky, not smart.”

“Oh, but you are smart, Mr. Jeon, and don’t think you’ve convinced me otherwise. Your transcript from Stanford tells a very interesting story. What did your parents say when you dropped out at the top of your class and went to work at a gas station?”

The sarcastic back-and-forth screeches to a halt. For the first time, you see darkness pass over his face.

“Don’t ask me about my parents,” he says curtly. “I’ll tell you whatever else you want to know, but that shit is none of your business.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, and this time you mean it.

He shifts to his side, away from you, and looks out the window.

You sit quiet, thinking for a minute – but after a while you both fall asleep.

********************************************

You wake to Jungkook nudging you.

“Get up,” he says urgently. “I have to piss.”

You groan, trying to clear the fog from your brain and glance at your watch. Still four more hours to go on this flight.

“Like now,” he says, bouncing one leg to ward off the sensation.

You get up, stretch out, and wait for him to stand but then realize he’s waiting for you to help him since it’s an awkward fit in the seats with his handcuffs. Instead of making a snarky comment, you just offer your hand and a slight smile.

Very unlike you.

“Thanks,” he says, straightening out, stretching his legs. One of the Marshals raises an eyebrow at you.

“He has to use the bathroom,” you say, stilling the man with a raised hand when he makes to stand. “It’s alright, I need to stretch, too. I’ll walk him down there.”

The Marshal looks skeptically from Jungkook to you and back.

“It’s fine, Agent,” you say, a little annoyed. “It’s not like he can go anywhere, right?”

“Right,” Jungkook says, still bouncing that leg.

The Marshal gives you a look that makes clear he doesn’t approve, but he’s not going to stop you.

You walk behind Jungkook as he makes his way past the curtain, down the aisle and towards the bathroom. It’s a half-empty flight, and you’re glad for it when you see people staring at his handcuffs. You don’t know what’s gotten into you, but you can’t help but feel a little embarrassed on his behalf when you hear them whispering in Korean. At least you don’t know what they’re saying.

The firm set of Jungkook’s mouth makes you think he wishes that were the case for him, too.

“Just uh, give me a minute,” he says, when you reach the bathroom.

It turns out to be a lot longer than a minute.

You’re half tempted to bang on the door and demand to know why he’s taking so long. Maybe the Marshal was right to be suspicious of Jungkook. Maybe he figured out a way off this plane through the toilet.

You’re bouncing your own leg impatiently when he finally reappears.

“What took you so long?” you ask, annoyed.

“You ever try to take your pants and underwear off while handcuffed?” he asks. “You know what — never mind, don’t answer that. You’ll start giving me ideas.”

Ah. He’s back, then.

Part of you is a little relieved to hear his smart-ass mouth again. You feel a hell of a lot less guilty around this version of him.

“Listen, I did a little recon and it’s a tight fit, but there’s definitely enough room for us to fuck,” he says, face comically serious. “And we’re running out of time for you to pull the trigger, so what’s it going to be?”

“Ugh. You’re foul,” you say, pulling a face.

“But you kind of like it,” he shoots back.

He’s right, though. You kind of do.

***********************

Clearly you’ve lost your mind.

Pheromones have short-circuited all the portions of your brain that control logic, reason, and risk. That’s the only plausible explanation for why you are slumped into your seat right now, legs pressed together tight, imagining fucking Jungkook Jeon in an airplane bathroom.

Sympathy and curiosity and more than a little horniness are making for a strange mix. You reason to yourself — as if you are actually entertaining this madness — that he’s not a convicted felon, just an accused one. There’s gotta be a loophole in the FBI handbook somewhere.

“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” Jungkook asks, leaning close — a smile playing over his lips.

“Shut up.”

“You are,” he whispers in a scandalized tone. “I mean with these on, I’m not going to be able to do my best work, obviously, but I’ve done more with less. Unless you want to take them off,” he says, rolling his wrists in the handcuffs.

“I already told you, I’m not taking those off,” you say sharply.

“Alright, alright. Keep it kinky. I can roll with that.”

”Shut up, Jeon.”

He gestures across his mouth like he’s zipping it shut and throwing away the key and you fight the urge to laugh.

“If I decided to fuck you, and I’m not saying I would,” you hiss, “I would have to stuff a sock into that smart mouth of yours just to not have to hear it.”

He laughs and his face looks so young and relaxed it takes your breath away a little.

“Make it your underwear and we have a deal,” he winks.

You pick up another magazine and get back to actively trying to ignore him and that annoying pulse between your legs.

*************************

Two hours left to Los Angeles.

You glance over at your guard dogs, who’ve both knocked out after a snack. One has a newspaper draped fully over his face, grandpa style.

You should have ordered a drink. You should have ordered six. That way, if you’re ever called to the carpet about the decision you’re about to make, you can blame it on alcohol-induced psychosis. Because the Marshals are asleep and you feel bad for Jungkook Jeon and he’s so hot you can barely think straight at this point. You take a deep breath and make a decision.

Fuck it.

You stand quietly, motioning to Jungkook with a finger over your lips. For a moment, his brows knit together in confusion but that look passes almost as quickly as it came. Then his entire face breaks out into a wide grin.

“Yeah?” he whispers.

“Shut up,” you whisper back, through gritted teeth.

You hold out your hand to help him to stand and when he grips it, he rubs his the pad of his thumb across your wrist. You try to ignore the sizzle of arousal he manages to drum up with that brief touch.

Quietly, you both walk past the curtain, past sleeping passengers and back to the clean but cramped bathroom where you are about to do the dumbest shit you have ever done.

You glance around at the passengers nearby and notice only one older man, eyes wide on the two of you. You shoot an excuse-me-sir-this-is-official-government-business look at him before following Jungkook into the tiny space.

You lock the door and turn to face him.

“Glad you finally came around,” he says, immediately backing you into the door. His mouth goes right for your neck and he pushes his entire body into yours in this tiny space. He is large and warm and he smells way better than he should after working a restaurant shift, being arrested, and then being jammed into a plane seat for hours.

His lips work up the column of your throat and his hands, still secured in front of him, push uselessly into the front of your lightweight wool dress. Shame, really, that you couldn’t take him out of these. You’d love to feel those hands right about now.

“I wasn’t kidding about keeping your mouth shut,” you manage to say, breathless at the feel of his mouth on your skin. “Don’t make me change my mind.”

The vibration of his laughter tickles the shell of your ear.

“I’ll be a good boy, I promise,” he says. “I just need to get my face under this dress.”

Your brain stutters for a moment, hung up on the mental image. He drops to his knees in front of you, lifts his hands to try and push up the front of the almost-too-tight garment but his handcuffs make it impossible. You graciously help him out, hiking the hem up your thighs. You’re about to work your underwear down, but he’s impatient, burying his face directly into the wet satin and inhaling deeply.

“Fuck, you smell amazing,” he groans, nosing the aching nub between your thighs. You’re glad he can’t see the way your mouth drops open when he licks out at the damp material, teasing you with the barest hint of friction.

“Help me out here,” he moans, and you do just that, sliding your panties down as best you can with the amount of space you’ve got.

At this angle, you can only get them down to your knees, but Jungkook doesn’t seem to care. He pushes his entire face into you, lips and teeth and tongue driving into you, working you with a fervor that makes your knees start to wobble. You grab a handful of his hair to steady yourself but it’s no use. Absently, you realize the tremors running up and down your body are rattling the door.

“Nice to know that mouth is good for more than just trash talk,” you tease on deep exhale. He laughs.

“Maybe some day you’ll get the chance to enjoy the full-service experience.”

“Probably not, Jeon,” you moan. “This is just a one-time favor, got it?”

All the blood in your brain has taken a dive into parts lower south and you marvel at how quickly your impending orgasm is coming on. But then, you’ve basically had about ten hours of foreplay up to this point, so maybe it’s not that surprising.

That damned door keeps rattling and you just know the little old man on the other side is probably staring it down. You’re not sure what it says about you that you think that’s kind of hilarious.

Your body jolts when Jungkook wraps his lips around your clit and sucks so hard you see stars. “You’re the one about to come on my face in an airplane bathroom,” he groans, licking obscenely between words. “So who’s doling out favors right now?”

Well, that does it.

The second he brings his lips and tongue back to your clit, you fall apart, gripping his hair so hard you’re certain it has to hurt. You pour all your energy into not screaming as your orgasm steamrolls you, and whatever energy you have left goes into trying to stay upright. Jungkook stays face-first in your heat, lapping up your release until the last tremors shake you and that goddamned door.

“Shit,” your voice is shaky, chest heaving when you finally make a sound.

“You are very, very fucking hot,” Jungkook says, breathless from where he sits on the floor. “Way too hot to be a Fed.”

You laugh.

“Well you are definitely too hot to be a criminal, but here we are, huh?”

Your eyes slide down to his glinting handcuffs, but they aren’t what’s catching your attention. Instead, your gaze heads right to the giant bulge straining against the front of his jeans. Turnabout is fair play, and you’re suddenly very eager to return the favor.

You help him stand and immediately seal your mouth to his, tasting yourself on his lips. Your fingers fumble past his restraints, underneath to where you can feel the button of his jeans and you undo it as fast as you can. He stops kissing you long enough to groan into your mouth when your hands slip into his boxers and your fingers wrap around his cock. He is hot and thick and hard in your hand. You squeeze around him, enjoying the way his hips jerk in response.

“Don’t tease,” he whines. “I’m gonna have to fantasize about this blowjob for the next twenty years.”

“I’d better make it memorable then,” you say, sinking down to your knees in the cramped space. You shove his jeans off his hips and look up at him as you gently push his boxers down and over his straining cock. His body is rock hard, lean muscle and defined lines running from his shapely legs up to his cuffed wrists and underneath that white shirt you’d love to peel off but can’t.

His head falls back the second your lips touch his swollen head. You tease it for a moment with a few quick licks, but decide this is really not the time to be dragging this out. The strangled “fuck” he whispers when you take him down fully is the sweetest and dirtiest thing you’ve heard in a while.

You manage to catch his gaze for a moment as you maintain a steady rhythm on his cock with your hands. His eyes are glassy with drinks and arousal, and you nearly have to slip a hand between your legs when his tongue slips out of his mouth to wet his lips.

He lifts and drops his handcuffs a couple of times before growling his frustration at not being able to put his fingers in your hair. You feel a faint throb of sympathy for him for a moment before reminding yourself that you literally have your mouth around his cock so frankly, things could be a lot worse for him than they are right now.

“You gotta stop,” he says, after a few minutes of the slow, wet torture. You release him with a soft pop and a confused expression.

“It’s your last blowjob for twenty years, Jeon. You want me to stop?”

“No, no,” he says quickly. “I have to fuck you. Please let me fuck you. It’s all I can think about,” he whines.

“You can’t,” you say firmly. “No condoms.”

He blows out a heavy breath like he’s thinking for a moment and there you are, on your knees in this tiny bathroom, confused as to what your next step should be.

“Look around,” he says suddenly.

“What?”

“Look – people fuck in airplane bathrooms all the time, right? It’s a thing. Maybe someone out there pulled some hero shit and is looking out for the next person.”

“This bathroom,” you say skeptically, “is the size of a goddamned shoebox, Jeon. You think we’re going to magically scrounge up a condom?”

“Just look,” he implores through gritted teeth.

“Fine,” you huff, leaning over to pop the cabinet under the sink open. You put one searching hand inside and pull out three sanitary pads that look like they were packaged in the 1970s.

He groans, frustrated.

“Hang on,” you say, jamming your hand back inside. Your fingertips brush up against something smooth and you fish it out, eyes wide with utter disbelief.

“Oh, you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” you say, more to yourself than to him.

You hold the condom packet up for him to inspect.

“Holy shit,” he breathes, cock jerking at the sight of it, like it knows he’s just hit the jackpot.

He laughs so hard for a moment you fear this entire encounter has gone entirely off track.

“My luck is back,” he declares triumphantly, finally. “Now, please hurry up and get on my dick.”

You’re shaking your head in disbelief the entire time you’re ripping the packet open, rolling it down Jungkook’s impossibly still-hard cock. He’s breathing hard, body tense with anticipation when you slide your heels off to take your underwear off completely.

“The heels,” he groans, watching as you slip your panties over your ankles. “Can you — you know…keep ‘em on?”

“Ugh, you are such a pervert,” you scold, slipping your feet back into the shoes and leaning back to line him up with your entrance. He surges forward and you moan at the stretch as he fills you entirely in one thrust.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, dropping his head into the crook of your neck, already rolling his hips frantically against you. “Shit, that’s incredible.”

And truthfully, it is. The ledge of the sink is biting into your ass with every thrust and you’re having to do most of the work given his handcuff situation but you really don’t even care because he still feels amazing like this.

He mouths uselessly at the wool covering your breasts because there’s no way to get to them. You nearly admonish him because he’ll leave crude wet spots on the fine material, but you decide against it.

“Oh, I bet you have amazing tits,” he groans, hips maintaining a steady rhythm. “Giving me something to look forward to for next time.”

“There won’t be a next time, Jeon. And there won’t be a this time if you don’t hurry up already,” you shoot back.

He laughs, a little breathless from exertion. “I’m close, I promise. Fuck, you feel so good.”

You squeeze tighter around him, push harder back against him, angle your hips a bit more to ensure he’s going to the hilt with every thrust. The guttural sound he makes in response sends a shiver up your back.

“I’m gonna come,” he gasps after a moment, mouth covering yours as his hips begin to stutter at the first ebbs of his release. Your ass is numb from the sink ledge at this point, legs tired from supporting your weight and his.

“So come then,” you tease, biting gently on the sensitive skin at his pulse point. He groans from deep inside his chest as he lets go – hips jerking as he pumps himself through it.

“Shit,” he groans, leaning on you with his full weight.

“You are crushing me Jeon,” you complain, pushing at his chest with both hands. He chuckles. “Yeah, sorry about that. Balance is a little off at the moment.”

You open your mouth to shoot another sarcastic comment his way, but there is something about the way he is looking at you right now that stops you short.

You clear your throat, uncomfortable with the tiny glimpse into whatever that was.

“Well, as much as I’d love to ruminate on how good this was,” you say, shifting your dress back down and making a beeline for your underwear, “We’ve been in here an insane amount of time already. There’s probably a line outside the door.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, a little too quiet for your liking.

So you put yourself back together and help put him back together, too.

And strangely, when you open the door to leave there is no line. But that little old man is still watching, a look of astonishment on his face as you both walk past.

***********************************

“Listen, are you sitting down right now?”

You frown at the phone display in your office because any conversation that starts with an opening line like that is headed south.

“Uh…yeah. Why?”

“Hang on, I’m coming to your office.”

Seconds later, Agent Novak bursts through the door.

“So you haven’t seen it,” he says, rushing up to your desk.

“Seen what, Novak? Spit it out,” you say, frustrated already.

“Check your email,” he says, arms crossed over his chest. He looks fit to burst with some kind of excitement and your chest already feels a little tight at whatever it is he’s dying to show you.

You click into your email to find an urgent bulletin that you’d missed because you were working on a stack of papers on your desk, not your computer. The subject line makes your heart hammer.

URGENT MEMO: Fugitive Search, Jungkook Jeon

ATTACHED VIDEO FILE

“The guy just walked out of a federal courthouse like he was on an afternoon stroll. Had on a suit and everything,” Novak says, a note of awe in his voice. “Check out the video.”

Your mouth is already hanging open before you even click on the attached CCTV footage. A camera inside the courthouse shows Jungkook Jeon walk out of a bathroom in the front lobby, dressed like an attorney, not a defendant. His long hair is cut into a more professional style, his suit covers his tattoos and he looks entirely in place.

Novak is right – he walks so casually past the guards and other visitors that no one even thinks to stop him.

“Word is, court was on a lunch break and it looks like he had everything ready to go. Walked into a waiting Uber and vanished like smoke.”

You haven’t said a word since Novak walked in with this bombshell.

You just watch the CCTV footage over and over again in a loop, willing your brain to accept what your eyes can see clear as day.

This motherfucker.

Guess his luck really is back.

***************************

#jungkooksmut #jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #jungkook x read #btssmut #bts fanfic #bts fic

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woodchoc-magnum · 4 years ago

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9-1-1 4x04 Reaction

Spoilers under the cut

Buddie for comfort:

Saving the parents for last because jesus fucking christ that’s a rant, and also, I’m functioning on very little sleep so this may be completely disjointed and rambly:

I am in love with Buck and Eddie trying to solve the crime together and I wish they would re-film that scene without face masks

Because they so would be into true crime, like Eddie pretends to be cool but he’s a secret nerd, and he loves to nerd out with Buck, so it makes total sense that they watch crime documentaries together like COME ON

I’m incorporating this into a fic somehow

May Grant the 911 operator 🔥🔥🔥

Gratuitous shirtlessness in the form of Albert and Chimney, thank you very much 911

Albert fucking RUNNING AWAY FROM CHIMNEY 10/10 comedy

And then Chimney RUNNING AWAY FROM THE REST OF THE TEAM 10/10 comedy as well

Albert throwing a whole wheel of brie into the oven? Like just throwing it in there? Literally just throwing it in there

I don’t know why they added that in but I’m not mad at it

Chimney making friends with the mad bomber after the preview was like “IS CHIMNEY GONNA DIE????” no he’s gonna make a new friend and then brain him with an oxygen tank duh

Well, I guess it’s about that time to talk about the worst parents in the show, so here we go:

Some of this is gonna be speculation because obviously we don’t know how this all played out, but we can make some guesses. My theory is that Daniel the dead brother died... perhaps saving Buck when he was only very little, hence Buck not remembering it, and his parents... asking Maddie not to tell him?

What even the FUCK though

Why would you ask your NINE YEAR OLD DAUGHTER TO LIE TO HER LITTLE BROTHER ABOUT THEIR OTHER BROTHER WHO DIED

And how the hell do you cover something like that up? Did they simply move away from friends and family so no one would ever talk about it? Did they box up all the pictures and memories and everything and just... fucking... MOVE ON? Or not move on, because they have obviously never forgiven Buck for whatever the hell happened.

Okay, this is my speculation:

The parents are somehow responsible - for example, an accidental drowning (I don’t think this is what happened, this is just an example). So hypothetically, they’re at the beach, and Buck is a toddler, and the parents aren’t paying attention and he wanders into the sea and gets swept out; Daniel comes to his rescue and dies in the act of saving him (this thing happens in Australia all the time, hence why I’m using it as an example - swim between the flags, gang!).

So then you have the parents who are ultimately responsible for not paying attention, you have the unavoidable tragedy of one of the children dying, and the way they coped with this terrible tragedy was to place the blame on Buck (even though it wasn’t his fault, at all) and pretend that Daniel had simply never existed.

This means that Buck spends his life living in the shadow of the older brother who was glorified, who died saving him, and Buck has no idea why he can never please his parents and why they don’t love him. This is why they’re checked out as parents, because one of their kids died, and instead of seeking therapy, they decided to live a lie and blame their son for something he had no fucking control over.

So setting all that aside, let’s talk about these two absolute fucking pieces of shit.

They’ve alienated their children so much that both of them are absolutely terrified when they turn up. Buck is petrified. He’s spent his whole life never living up to their expectations, never feeling good enough, or worthy enough, constantly being put down - no wonder he ran away to California to put some distance between them. And he’s finally in a good place, going through therapy, dealing with his issues, and now bam - his parents are back in town to screw up all of his hard work.

And Maddie’s just as freaked out, because she’s trying to protect Buck from them. I feel like she has good intentions but her mistake is wanting Buck to have a relationship with people who don’t necessarily want to have a relationship with him, and for telling them about him being in therapy (which I still don’t understand, but I guess maybe the next episode will reveal the answer). To be clear, I don’t think Maddie is wrong for having kept this secret. She was manipulated into it by her parents when she was only a child, and that is not her fault, at all. She’s been told she’s doing the right thing and she hasn’t questioned it, but now, she is.

And, importantly - if her parents were checked out mentally and emotionally, she had to do a lot of the heavy-lifting and parenting when it came to Buck, when she was just a little girl herself. Maddie is the reason Buck is as wonderful as he is - she raised him.

Now, back to the pieces of shit:

They didn’t like Doug, so they washed their hands of Maddie, even though they lived in the same fucking town. So she was getting beaten up by her absolute monster of a husband, and ending up in hospital, and they were doing fucking nothing to intervene or help her.

THEY DIDN’T EVEN GO TO HER WEDDING. THEY SHOWED HER NO SUPPORT AT ALL. LIKE I CANNOT. All because they DISAGREED? SHE’S STILL YOUR DAUGHTER, like oh my god, I can’t even.

She had to flee across the country to Buck in California to finally escape him, because their parents didn’t care enough to help. Motherfuckers.

And then the whole “we don’t do hospitals” - bitch, they are your fucking CHILDREN. If your CHILDREN are in hospital, you are supposed to CARE. Buck got crushed by a ladder truck, he had an embolism and nearly died, he went through a tsunami and NOTHING? Nada? Maddie had to kill her husband after he nearly killed her, and NOTHING? Buck had to call to tell them what had happened!

And then to start crying and asking "I don’t know what you expected us to do?” - like, bitch, FUCKING ANYTHING?

I mean

I cannot with these people

What kind of white WASP-y nonsense is this

Let me tell the story of when I had appendicitis - I was taken to the hospital by my friend at night, my mum lives two hours away - when she found out that it was appendicitis and I’d be going in for surgery, she jumped in the car in the middle of the night and drove two hours to be with me, and I was a grown-ass woman at the time. It is not normal for parents not to care when their children are sick/injured/being beaten almost to death by their abusive husbands/getting crushed by a ladder truck. You mean to tell me that the footage of the crowd lifting the truck off their son didn’t go viral? That they didn’t see that?

Fuckers.

You don’t like something so you just bury your head in the sand and pretend it doesn’t exist? Your kids aren’t perfect so you just wash your hands of them? Their problems don’t matter, not when it’s all about you?

Narcissists.

Blaming the kids for everything, manipulating Maddie into doing their bidding - and still manipulating her as an adult, by bringing her gifts and driving across the country and being all, “we want to be grandparents!” after everything? After letting her husband nearly kill her and blaming her for having bad taste in men? FUCKKKKKK

And the fucking BABY BOX. Do not even get me started on how ANGRY I WAS.

Like, I have friends with kids (I have cats, personally) so I know that they’re busy, but to not have anything, as if he’s just not worth it.

Like I can’t

It breaks my heart to think about his face, and the realisation setting in... to know that your parents don’t love you? To have lived with that your whole life? It’s so fucking gutting.

Like, obviously I am extra emotional because I’m running on empty today, but god damn this episode just came along and punched me right in the face.

Also, I’m making a BIG CALL, they’re going to use the song ‘Daniel’ by Elton John in the next episode:

Daniel my brother you are older than me Do you still feel the pain of the scars that won't heal? Your eyes have died, but you see more than I Daniel you're a star in the face of the sky

100% they’re using that song, I’m calling it now, and if they don’t, it is a wasted opportunity.

Okay, let’s end on a good note, because this has been a rant:

Eddie’s open concern for Buck; the fact that Buck tells Eddie about his therapy, that he feels comfortable opening up to him - that Eddie was there, watching Buck beat the shit out of the boxing bag and listening to him, and taking his side and reassuring him... that is next level shit and I am here for it.

I am not here for the return of Ana in the next few episodes but that’s a future rant

Hopes for Buck Begins:

That the firefam - his real family - will rally around him, and that Buck and Maddie will take a united stand against their parents and tell them to get the fuck out of their lives.

Also I kinda want Bobby to meet the Buckley’s? Just... for him to be horrified, I guess? I don’t know, but I want Bobby to meet them and understand how awful they are and offer Buck some comfort as his surrogate father.

I would like Buck to be hugged by someone who loves him, please, because he needs it.

And selfishly, I want some kind of Buck, Eddie and Christopher scene, because they are also his family. Everyone in this show has their little family unit, and Eddie and Christopher are Buck’s.

Ana be damned

#911 reaction #911 spoilers #911 season 4 #a rant to end all rants #i have a lot of feelings about how awful the buckley parents are #and i ranted about them in here

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missfiggy · 3 years ago

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I've been having so much fun with #thediscourse and thinking about how James Potter is absolutely from Devon that I may have been inspired to sit down and write my HC for Potter manor (which has another name in my HC) instead of doing actual work and stuff.

@clare-with-no-i and @thequibblah y'all are inspiring, brilliant, talented writers and it's. so. dang. distracting!

Click below for LONG hc ramble.

A residence at Hartscombe was first mentioned in the Domesday book as belonging to the feudal barony of the Lynleighs of Devon. Following the Norman Conquest, the lands were seized and the heiress of the Lynleigh barony was married to Nicolas de Ferrers who came over to England with William the Conqueror. The house stayed with the de Ferrers, eventually shortened to Ferrers for generations. They developed a reputation for being a great family and very important to the growth of the villages surrounding their estate. They were generous to their tenants and always condescended to join the town fair at Hartscombe celebrating the berry harvest every summer.

Unfortunately, at the end of the Elizabethan era, the Ferrers encountered a problem most dreaded among England’s most illustrious families: they lacked a male heir. Morgana Ferrers, beloved wife to Charlus, died in childbirth, leaving being the heiress of the great Ferrers’s estate and land holdings. Further complicating matters, Mariah was no normal child. On her eleventh birthday, a wizened old man knocked on the door of Hartscombe Hall. After a lengthy conversation with Charlus, the old man whisked Mariah off to a mysterious school in Scotland. While it was most shocking for a girl to be educated, let alone educated at a public school, the townsfolk were used to Charlus’s indulgence of Mariah’s whims. While at school, she met a young man named Ralston Potter, with whom she quickly became besotted. They were wed after graduation and possession of Hartscombe Hall passed into the Potter line.

The townspeople of Hartscombe noted a marked change in the relationship between themselves and the new landowner. Ralston and Mariah were perfectly amiable and certainly kept rents at a fair rate. The family withdrew from the general social intercourse of the town. They no longer presided over the berry festival, and even let go several of the domestic staffers who’d overseen the house for ages.

With every generation, the distance between the Potters and the people of Hartscombe grew, as did the rumors about the Potter family. The townsfolk became accustomed to hearing odd whizzes and bangs coming from Hartscombe Hall at all hours of the day. There was a rumor during the Georgian era, that a local boy wandered into the family’s vegetable patch and received a nip from the dog. The boy maintained he was bitten by a cabbage not a dog, but no one with any sense gave that story credence. Still, people started avoiding the grounds of Hartscombe Hall. Those that did wander in tended to end up on the other side of Exmoor with no memory of how they got there. During the celebrations of Queen Victoria’s Diamond Jubilee, a local sot named Wilbur swore he saw great plumes of purple smoke coming from Hartscombe Hall as he left The Stagshead Arms, the town pub. Naturally, people attributed this to too much liquid celebration of Wilbur’s part.

At the end of Victoria’s reign though, the Potters had all but decamped from Hartscombe Hall. There were rumor’s that Henry received a political appointment though no one could figure out exactly what position, since he certainly wasn’t an MP. Like most great families, the attractions of London proved too tempting, and the Potters only returned for very brief stays during the holidays. When it was rumored that the last Potter heir, Fleamont and his wife Euphemia were in their fifties with no heir, the town expected that the great house would be sold to the national trust or be turned into a private hotel. These things were happening all across Devon, and it would be only natural that such a change might come to Hartscombe too.

Only it did not.

In the late 1950s, Fleamont and Euphemia took up permanent residence at Hartscombe Hall. They hired all manner of local tradespeople to upgrade the house with “every modern accommodation”. Plumbers, electricians, bricklayers, stonecutters, carpenters, and builders were brought in from the town and several neighboring villages. This marked the first time most of the townsfolk had ever seen the building up close. They thought it every bit as impressive as its storied reputation supposed it to be.

The long, curved drive that leads to the estate runs up from a stream at the base of the valley and serpentines up a large hill. Finally, the dense oakwoods surrounding the drive give way to a grassy clearing where the house stands. Constructed of roughhewn, grey stone, the sprawling manor claimed three floors and ten fireplaces whose chimneys rose over thirteen gabled roofs. The grounds are simply and tastefully landscaped. Flower and vegetable gardens are tucked around the sides of the estate, out of sight of the house’s facade. The front of the house opens onto a rectangular gravel drive that was outlined by grey stone bricks. These are rumored to be the footprint of the medieval great hall that gave the estate its name.

The house looks out onto open parkland extending beyond the formal gardens. The manicured lawn gave way to wild grasses that beamed golden in the sunset. Green alder trees sprung up from this yellow sea, bounded into large plots by verdant hedges. In the distance, where the two slopes of a neighboring valley met was covered by a stubby woodland. Following the east side of the valley up, exposed rocks jutted out from the hillside. To the west of the house, the land fell steeply off into a ravine cut by two converging rivers. The tradesmen never liked to explore these areas. If they wandered too far from the house or the main drive, they found themselves very easily confused in the dense woods.

Some townsfolk found it odd that the house had yet to be wired with electricity. Others found great amusement recounting the story of Fleamont being utterly dumbfounded when a builder wheeled a refrigerator into the refurbished kitchen (“You’da thought ‘ee’d never seen one in ‘is life!”). Though the more generous in town attributed these oddities to the nature of the aristocracy. Really fine people after all could afford chefs and never actually step foot in a kitchen.

Hartscombe flourished under the influx of money from the refurbishments. Though the townsfolk did not want to look a gift horse in the mouth, several people wondered aloud whether the Potters were really back for good. Such talk stopped in the fall of 1959 when Euphemia rolled out her grand designs for a new nursery. The Potter’s were expecting a baby.

Fleamont remembrance of Hartscombe from his own childhood, as he relayed to the workers building the nursery, were of traipsing through wild moors and ancient forests. He clambered up great oak trees and watched the massive red deer graze. The unrestrained beauty of the long, golden grasses flowing over the rolling hills, meeting up with dark forests and tumbling waterfalls were the perfect situation in which to raise a child, encourage an active imagination, and build a healthy constitution. Though raised in the city, Fleamont was at heart a son of the country, and he could not wait to raise his son there.

#james potter #discourse #headcanon #headcanon run amok #will probably delete later but I had to show SOMEONE what I've been doing all afternoon

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revisionaryhistory · 3 years ago

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Three Days ~ 88

~*~Sebastian~*~

After the video call with my friends, I went back to the couch with a fresh glass of wine. I am blessed. Family, friends, co-workers, and a woman who loves me. None of us are perfect. I have people to call when times are tough. Today they called me, knowing I’d be struggling, only this time it was in a good way. Not long later Jessica called and invited me to dinner.

Pizza, beer, friends, and a toddler made for a good night. Giulietta thought I was much more fun than mom or dad. I guess they don’t let her use them like a jungle gym. When mom spoiled our fun and said it was time to settle down, I stopped the tears by promising to read her a story. Her choice. Like someone else I know Giulietta was asleep before I was halfway through. At this rate I'll never know how anything ends.

I sent the picture Jessica had taken to Emma. She'd wake up to it and with any luck send me back something fun. Which she did as soon as she woke up. Which was afternoon for me. Dinner break before I checked my phone. Emma struck the perfect balance between sweet and sexy. Her hair was messy with just her eyes peeking over a pillow she was hugging. Those beautiful green eyes I loved to look into. I couldn't see her smile so I could imagine it anyway I liked. The sweet one she often got right before she told me she loved me. Or the other one she got when she wanted me. I loved them both.

Our texts were broken up over the course of the day. Short bursts or long hours between. We talked most days at least for a few minutes. We talked about our days, shared memories, and talked about us. Maybe had phone sex. What didn't happen was whining about being apart or bitching about the time and distance. I didn't hang up feeling angry or guilty. I did my job, hung out with friends, relaxed during my downtime, and did a little shopping. Emma relaxed, did some studying, and practiced guitar. I missed her. She missed me. But we went on with our lives apart, making the best of the situation. It sucked, except it didn't.

I think this is the way it's supposed to be.

Thursday we wrapped for Paris. That was worth a party. Over the next four days production would pack up and move to Rome. I'd spend a day and a half on planes going from Paris to Dallas to San Diego. Then back to Dallas and on to Rome. The time zones were going to fucking kill me.

I called Emma when I got back to my room. I was drunk and grumpy. Hearing her voice helped. Seeing her face was even better. The way she told me exactly what she wanted to do to me and said all sorts of dirty things until I came... I wasn't grumpy anymore.

I had a headache when my alarm rang. I needed more sleep. Hopefully, I'd catch up on the flight. I was still debating going back to sleep and blowing off the weekend when my phone rang. Emma. It was the middle of the night for her. "Why are you awake?"

She laughed, "Making sure your drunk ass doesn't turn off his alarm and blow off the weekend."

I rolled to my side, mirroring her. "I wouldn't do that. I was thinking about it, but I wouldn’t do it."

"Such a professional. How are you feeling?"

"I've been better. Advil, breakfast, and a long nap on the plane and I'll be fine. How are you?"

"Good. Big plans laying by the pool with Mallory today."

"Sounds fun. I will be on a plane."

"Yes, but you will walk out of the airport into sunny California. Then spend two days being adored and laughing with your friends."

"That will be fun." I was honestly looking forward to that part.

Emma yawned. I smiled at her beautiful face, "You need to go back to sleep. I need to get showered."

She didn't argue with me. She was tired.

"Thank you for making sure I was up. I love you."

"I love you." There was my sweet smile.

I cannot begin to explain how very disorientating it is to board a plane at nine am, travel for fifteen hours, to arrive at three pm, which is only six hours after you left. I get to relive eight of the hours I spent on the plane. Only thing is, my body thinks it’s midnight. I slept some on the flight and I knew better than to go back to sleep. The closer to "normal" bedtime for this time zone I could get, the better I would feel tomorrow. Anthony and I had press then an autograph session, before the big Marvel event. Sunday was photo ops and an autograph session. Both long days where I was expected to be pleasant despite how inappropriate or rude fans got. Needless to say, a decent night’s sleep would be best for everyone.

I got to my room by four and quickly realized I couldn't stay there. I needed fresh air. I needed to breathe. I changed into shorts and took off to have a look around. There were several hotels in the area that hosted celebrity guests. We weren't all in one place. I'd requested a beach. It was a little farther from the convention center and I was confident I could wander unseen. Most people stayed right around the center since a lot of packages kept prices lower and being so close to the action was appealing. I wanted the ocean.

Down the beach I could see big boulders and took off that direction. I needed some flip-flops. The sand made me think of Emma. The water. The people surfing. The impending sunset. Breathing. I'd like to say the plan I was cooking up was a product of sleep deprivation. It wasn't. It had been bouncing around in my head since this morning as we lay in bed together thousands of miles apart. I'd dismissed it as selfish. On the plane, when sleep was impossible, and I was panicking, it didn't seem so selfish. I shoved the idea away because I knew it really was. The same reasons I didn't ask Emma to stay in Paris or go to Rome were valid here. Asking her to fly literally to the other side of the country to spend two days with me, asking her to amuse herself while I worked a chunk of that time, was peak me as a selfish asshole. The longer I sat on the rock watching the ocean the less of a bad idea it seemed. Maybe not less of a bad idea, but an idea I could give her a choice in, with the difference being if she said no, I wouldn't be angry or make her pay for not doing what I wanted. Growth in action. Hopefully.

I should check flights before I even think about calling. Or actually call, because I'm already thinking about calling. Might not be possible.

It was. I flipped my phone in my hands several times before hitting the buttons to call her. Apparently, I hadn't grown completely out of being an ass.

"I'm about to be an asshole."

Emma raised her eyebrows, "Uh oh."

"Yeah." I was going to do it anyway. "Fifteen-hour flight with little sleep because the turbulence over the ocean was a nightmare. I'm grumpy, exhausted, and lonely as fuck. I'm on the beach without you. I miss you. I can get you on a flight in the morning and if you come straight to the venue you'll be here before I have to do anything. It’ll be two days. I have to leave for Rome Monday. I know it's a shitty thing to ask, but will you come see me? So I can see you."

"I'd love to."

I was prepared to step up my game and her easy acquiescence caught me off guard. "You will?"

She nodded with a smile, "I miss you too."

I took a deep breath and let it out, "I was prepared to beg."

Her smile was almost a laugh, "While you begging sounds fun, it's not necessary. Do I need to pack anything dressy?"

"Fuck, I hope not. I have a pair of jeans, shorts, and sweatpants." It's amazing how much better I felt. I ran my hands through my hair. "You're flying out of JFK. Sorry."

"You booked the flight already?"

"Not many seats left. I wasn't risking it. You leave at seven, here at ten. My first thing is noon." I could see her grabbing her carry-on from the closet.

"I'm going to spend the night at your place. Do you want me to bring you anything?"

I scrunched up my face, "Underwear."

"You don't have underwear?"

"The one's I'm in and a spare."

"You may not like what I pick out."

"Emma, baby, I will wear yours as long as you deliver them."

"I think that's a little drastic."

"It's really not."

Emma laughed and touched her screen. I could almost feel her. I could definitely imagine feeling her. She almost gasped and broke into a smile, "I have an idea. I need to call Jill real quick. Give me five maybe ten minutes."

I nodded, "Okay. I'm going to lay here on my rock."

My rock was not soft, but I was very comfortable. I was very happy. The sky was blue and the sound of the waves was calming. I only had to wait until tomorrow to see Emma. It was going to be a good day.

A little more than five minutes later Emma was calling me back. "You've made my little sister very happy."

"Excellent!” I smiled, "How'd I do that?"

"We need to change my flight. Monday I'm going to Seattle pick up Olivia and take her back to New York with me. Then we'll meet up with the family in Chicago."

"That's perfect. You're not just coming out here for me."

She picked up on it. "Yeah, because seeing you isn't enough of a reason. You know I miss you, right?"

"I know, but I'm..."

Emma cut me off, "Stop there. I jump on planes to spend weekends on tour with dad. This is fun for me. Dad's doing sound checks, interviews, and charity shit while I amuse myself. You're not an asshole. I love this."

"You love this?" I did not love jumping on planes at short notice.

She was nodding as I spoke, "I love this."

"And you'd tell me to fuck off if you didn't?"

"Maybe, but this is your lucky day."

"No, my luck day was exactly eight weeks ago."

We talked for another ten minutes or so until she was loaded and heading into the city. We've talked while she's driving many times, but I wanted her to pay attention. The sun was going down where she was and it would be dark before she got to my place. I headed back toward the hotel and ordered room service. By the time Emma texted she was at mine and I was deep in a documentary, struggling to stay awake.

Emma ~ Safe and sound in your bed.

Naturally, she sent a picture. Sheet barely covering her breasts and one arm stretched out above her head.

I sent back a picture of me in the same pose, but making sure to show the empty side of the bed. I drew a red ✗ there.

Sebastian ~ Where you will be in my bed tomorrow.

Emma ~ Equally safe and sound Sebastian ~ More. Emma ~ I'm going to sleep. I will see you in the morning. Sebastian- Can not fucking wait

I was probably asleep before she was. By the time I woke up twelve hours later Emma was halfway here. I felt well-rested and excited for my day. Not just the Emma piece. Mackie and I always had fun together. I'd been sent the day’s itinerary. Noon was press, two thirty was an autograph session, and five was the big deal Marvel panel. We should be done by 6:30. Disney was having a party tonight. I had to make an appearance. It started at eight. That wasn't going to happen. Nine was more likely. I remembered it wouldn't matter because mice can't tell time.

At the venue I was led to a behind the scenes area. There was a large room, guarded by security, set with food and drink. Several smaller rooms encircled the larger area and some were labeled with company names. One of the largest was for Disney, with cloth wall dividers making several smaller rooms, where a stylist would be waiting to make sure Mackie and I looked presentable. Outside of the room was a loading area that was separated from the autograph booths by black curtains. I'd already ducked between them and gave fans nosing around my booth quite a surprise. Those were my favorite interactions. The ones without expectations. Security came over to make sure I hadn't been ambushed. I hadn't, but that was a perfect way to get away and I needed to talk to security anyway. I had them take me to the security office. Some lucky fans got a shot at a sighting of a Sebastian in the wild. I explained what was happening to the head of security and put Emma’s name on a list. They gave me a lanyard with her all-access pass and told me what door to direct her to. Security would meet her and bring her to me.

"About that." Call me paranoid, but I didn't trust they'd remember to have someone waiting for her. They'd call someone when she showed up and gave her name to the person with the list. "I need a Pearl Jam fan."

"Excuse me?"

"Someone on your staff is a Pearl Jam fan. Get them.”

He got on his radio, "Anyone out there a Pearl Jam fan?"

A voice came back, "Big Ed. He works all the shows up the coast."

I looked at my watch then back at the supervisor, "I need to borrow him for an hour."

His face read doubtful, but I was Disney. "Big Ed. I need you in the security office. Anyone see him? Send him."

A different voice, "On my way, boss."

Several minutes later Big Ed came through the door. I knew it was him because he was six-five and an easy two-fifty. He was his name. I held out my hand, "Hey, Big Ed. I'm Sebastian. Nice to meet you."

“You too."

"Walk me back to the guest area." We headed out and I waited until we were away from the office. "Do you know Ed's daughter?"

He smiled, "He has three. Which one?"

"The only one old enough for me to ask about."

"Emma. I've seen her at a couple of shows. I work security up the coast. Great way to see a bunch of shows."

I nodded, "I guess anything you miss at one you can catch at the next."

"Exactly." He pointed to his ear, "And you can always hear."

"Back to Emma. She's on her way here. I'd appreciate it if you would meet her and bring her to me."

"Is Ed coming?"

"No, he's," I stopped myself, "you ask her where he is."

He laughed, "I might take the long way back here."

"I haven't seen her in weeks. Not too long." Two is weeks. Barely.

Emma texted they'd landed. Big Ed changed where he wanted her to go and he headed in that direction. I sat down to wait for her to text she was here. I heard a familiar voice.

"Sebastian Stan? Is that really you?"

"Captain America?" I stood up and turned to the voice.

"Don't call me that. The pressure." Mackie hugged me, slapping my back much harder than necessary. "How jet-lagged are you?"

"Is that code for how much work are you going to have to do because I'm grouchy?"

"Maybe." We laughed.

"I had a good night’s sleep and I'm in a great mood."

"You seem twitchy. Why are you twitchy?"

"I'm not twitchy."

"Yes, you are. You're twitchy."

"If I'm twitchy it's because you're making me twitchy."

He pointed at me, "Ah ha! You admitted it. You're twitchy."

I rolled my eyes and scowled, "Emma's on her way. I might be a little twitchy."

"Here?" He pointed to the ground. With his eyebrows raised.

I smiled, "My girlfriend."

"Yeah, I got that. Plus, Evans told me."

"She’s not a secret." That felt good.

He asked and I answered. Talking about Emma is my second favorite thing having to do with Emma. First is being with Emma. In absolutely any way. My phone went off with Emma telling me she was here. I put my hand on Mackie’s arm. "Stay here. Right here."

#Sebastian Stan #Sebastian Stan Fanfiction #fanfiction #sebastian stan X ofc #marvel actor fanfiction

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stranger-who-writes-fiction · 4 years ago

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Me, throughout the entirety of 6x05:

And I suppose I could just leave it there but NO, we’re doing a LIST. Of all the excellent things from “Prom Night!”

SPOILERS!

AV Club reviewer giving this episode the first ‘A’ of the season: :D

AV Club reviewer still insisting that “Midvale” was filler: D:<

Forever destined to disagree with the AV Club reviews in some way or another...

Okay, so! We begin with a very helpful reminder from Alex that things are different, in this Post-Crisis World!

(I mean, on the one hand, am I slightly distressed that key aspects of the Pilot and the WHOLE of “Midvale” are now gone, along with Earth-38? Yes.

On the other, Kara remembers her lived-experiences of everything that had transpired in the Earth-38 timeline, so they still sorta happened and have informed her characterization.

So...it’s fine. It’s fine. This is fine.)

I do love that, ‘Kara punched a meteorite out of the sky’ is now a Thing That Happened, though.

(Well perhaps NOT ANYMORE but I’m getting ahead of myself.)

KENNY LIIIIIIIIIIIIIVES!!!!!

“Scooby-Duo” listen, as someone who has already imagined all these kiddos in Hanna-Barbera cartoon style, running around Midvale, solving crimes and saving the day, I loved this description.

Alex being like, ‘DO. NOT. SCREW UP. MY PAST.’ ahhhhh we love to see that scary Older Sibling energy on full display.

And then Brainy and Nia are off to the past!

The only thing that could’ve made the utterance of ‘totes’ worse would’ve been the addition of, ‘magotes’. Thank goodness they exercised restraint in the writers’ room.

FORTUNATELY the terrible ordeal of reliving dated slang is offset by some truly excellent lines and line-reads throughout the rest of the episode.

For instance! Loved Brainy’s, ‘the perfect optical illusion’ and ‘off the dash, please.’ So great.

Other honorable mentions: ‘Damn it, Mitch!’ ‘That’s a LOT of exposure’ and I forget the line itself but when Cat’s like, ‘normal town my a--’ and then the cut to commercial break AAAAAHHHHHH so good.

Okay, back to the episode, Nia and Brainy, on the Legion Cruiser, AND THEN!

AND THEN AND THEN AND THEN!

OUR KIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIDS!!!!!

I love them. It won’t happen, but gosh, I want a Midvale spin-off so bad.

Like, the Crisis retcon made some space in the girls’ past for a spin-off to actually...kinda work.

(But sustaining the premise across multiple episodes/seasons would be tricky and there would always be the threat of running up against like. The current show’s continuity.

But hey! They could just ignore it, I guess! That’s what the Superman show is doing!) *insert frowny emoji here*

So the kids have gathered with Alex for milkshakes, which is delightful.

But ALL IS NOT WELL! As Alex reads about the ‘luckiest town’ and is like:

(Except with a lot more anxiety and frowning)

I feel as though we already knew Alex went to Stanford but I can’t remember if Kara’s (terrible) resume revealed that she went to National City University?

*Checks* Yes it did.

Another thing I LOVE is just. Alex as the Responsible One, whose anxiety is perpetually cranked to a 9.5, driving the Scooby-Duo around in the suburban mom van for super-ing jobs.

Also, ‘super-ing’ is an excellent verb, 15/10

Young Cat Grant! ....More on her later.

Nicole and Jesse did such a great job with the comedy in this episode--their initial attempt at a cover story/lie is so good.

And the masterful transition into an actual good lie that Nia knew would win Kara over...VERY NICE.

Kara being so obviously thrilled that there are OTHER ALIENS! WITH POWERS! HERE, IN MIDVALE! RIGHT HERE!

Fandom has ruined the whole ‘Kara has golden retriever energy’ as is their way but I must say...very much getting ‘excited puppy energy’ here.

Nia and Kara comparing powers was so CUUUUUUUUTE!!!!

As was the picture on Kenny’s desk of him and Kara. D’aaaawwww.

(But OH NO SADNESS...BECAUSE A BREAKUP IS IMMINENT.)

Okay in addition to all of the incredibly adorable content we also get lots of FAMILY FEEEEEEELINGS, which: Yes, good, yes.

But Eliza is only here as a PICTURE on Kara’s nightstand and a NAME on Alex’s badge, I am sad. :C

(Hope Helen Slater is in this last season at some point...need that soothing mom energy after all the Phantom Zone angst)

I think I’m out of order now but Kenny wanting to help Kara help people is just. The most adorable thing.

Spoiler alert: I use the word ‘adorable’ a lot in this list. Sorry...but also not.

The Brainy music when he’s in the school computer lab watching the printer is really great. I think we’ve heard it before, but it meshed so well with the whole vibe of both the character and the episode, just stood out nicely, I guess.

Okay, so. Do we think that Jesse could always do the baseball bat tricks, and the writers wrote it in, or do we think that he learned them for the show? My money is on the former.

Either way, very impressive.

And now for the truck situation! I kinda thought it would turn out that it was Cat’s doing, as she was trying to suss out the ‘super’, but nope, it was the blue dudes.

(Which makes more sense, since they have no qualms about endangering other people.)

And ON THAT NOTE, the blue guys! They are the perfect level of ridiculous, and they are wonderfully straightforward in ways that the Phantoms are not.

Also, I love that one of them is named Mitch?

Nia and Kara save the day!

After Kara busts the brakes and is like, ‘uhhh....they’re not working’

I noticed the Metropolis license plate and while yes it’s a little strange that plates are...apparently city-based in this corner of Earth Prime, stranger still is that Cat presumably drove clear across the country to check out this story. Right? Like, that’s the only way she has that plate out in Midvale?

Wait, wait. Totally forgot to mention Kara and Nia’s EXTREMELY OBVIOUS ‘don’t be suspicious’ sunglasses gambit at the Midvale College campus you absolute DORKS.

Right, so.

Remember those FAMILY FEELZ??? WELL!

We’ve got Nia’s call to her mom, which, oof. OOOOOF.

And then we have even MORE FEELINGS aka: The garage talk.

Okay. OKAY. So even though I’m a little sad “Midvale” no longer occurred in Earth Prime’s timeline, I am fascinated by the ways this new series of events have impacted Alex, Kara, and their past. (Also thrilled that Kenny lives, natch). Alex’s resentment and the burden of ‘protect Kara, PROTECT KARA’ have been left to simmer while Kara’s determination to help people has led to some...earnest but slightly careless secret hero work. The building blocks of the conflict introduced in “Midvale” are still there so while it might at first seem a little...repetitive, for Alex to lay all this out to Kara, it’s really just the reveal of a new boiling point; a post-crisis update on the scene in Midvale where Alex is like, ‘I had two parents before you showed up.’

AAAAAAAAAHHHHH IT’S EMOTIONALLY DEVESTATING I LOVE IT.

And then like. The new, but also not-new angle, of Alex leveraging her world-weariness against Kara’s youthful optimism/somewhat reckless desire to help, and then Kara throwing BACK that she’s explored other solar systems.

The LAYERS.

Also that Alex is like, ‘we need weapons, let’s tell mom and also call the DEO,’ classic Alex.

The garage talk ends with Kara determined to come clean to Kenny...BUT OH NO, THE HERO HIDEOUT IS SO CUTE, AND KENNY IS SO DEAR.

And the reveal that the almost-kiss in “Midvale” actually happened d’awwwww these kids.

Like. I am legitimately torn, here. I totally understand and support Kara in being honest with Kenny about the whole college situation--but also GAH. KENNY IS SO NICE AND CUTE AND EARNEST.

You know what ELSE is nice and cute and earnest?

Nia singing “9 to 5″ to Brainy to cope with stress and boost morale.

Heckin’ adorable, gosh.

Aaaaaand some other stuff occurred as the episode closed out but I don’t have them in my notes and BASICALLY I want the next hour like, now. Right now. Because this was WONDERFUL. FROM START TO FINISH.

So some Overall thoughts!

I said we’d get to Cat ‘CJ’ Grant later, so here we are: I...think I liked her? Overall? It was a performance that gradually won me over, is how I would describe it.

Absolutely wild that Cat built a media empire in a mere six years.

Also her whole, ‘I am going to find this extraordinary being and name them and kick Lois Lane into the classifieds’...I mean she eventually gets two out of three, there.

As I already started to mention, sad that Eliza wasn’t here! But it makes sense, since a lot of this, Kara is trying to keep on the DL.

Obviously, I am ALWAYS down for these flashback situations with the young Danvers. But it was also nice to take a break from the Phantom stuff. The plot here is simple/streamlined in a way the Phantom stuff...isn’t. I love the emotional character stuff coming out of the Phantom Zone arc but wow, the Phantoms are just. Needlessly complicated.

The little episode recap where Lena is explaining that Phantom Prime is like a bloodhound was like, ‘oh right, they do that too...in addition to all the other stuff that they apparently do.’

So, yes. Welcome change.

The change of scenery + type of action was nice too!

Though RIP to everyone’s hair, fighting against the moisture.

This episode also handled the Brainy/Nia relationship really well, IMO. Like, due to the whole, ‘trying to fit so much in, always’ approach to Supergirl episodes sometimes results in a bit of...one-sidedness, for various characters. Think for instance of Kelly needing to cheer everyone on in episode 2, but not having space for her own feelings/emotional needs in that episode.

I’ve felt that a bit with Brainy and Nia thus far--one will sort of take up more narrative space, so the relationship feels a little lopsided.

NOT SO HERE! They are both going through some stuff, they are both struggling to cope, they both come to rely on one another for help.

YES. GOOD. YES!!!!

Something I’m loving about season 6 overall is that so far, it doesn’t feel like the plot is stepping on character development too much. Like, it still isn’t a perfect balance, and some episodes manage it better than others, but compared to season 5? Leaps and bounds.

Everything was so nicely tied together and the dialogue was witty, the humor was delightful, EVERYONE WAS ADORABLE AND EARNEST AND DID I MENTION ADORABLE?* but they never lost sight of the themes and emotional through-lines and GAAAAAHHHHHH MIDVALE EPISODES ARE THE BEEEEEESTTTTTTTTT!

*Okay Alex was mainly stressed out but that’s to be expected.

TL;DR - Best episode of the season thus far? Best episode of the season thus far.

#SG post #long post #supergirl spoilers #supergirl season 6 spoilers #gif

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amazedforjjk · 4 years ago

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Black Crow - Yoongi

Summary: It’s not often you stumble upon a handsome tied up man in your parking lot in the dead of the night. What adventures this mysterious stranger is going to embark you on?

Genre: mafia!Yoongi, angst, humor, a tiny tiny hint of fluff

Warnings: Strong language, violence, blood and injuries, mentions of abuse and torture, tragic backstory, snarky Yoongi

A.N: Black Crow is finally here!! I’m so excited for you guys to read it! I’ll go on a hiatus for about two weeks but I’ll be back, don’t worry! I already have a new story idea I’m excited about!! Please tell me what you thought of Black Crow, I love interacting with you guys!!

Word count: 14K

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10:43 pm

It’s pitch black when you step out through the big glass doors of your office complex and the only way you manage to put a foot in front of the other without falling on your face is thanks to your flashlight on your phone. Everyone is already gone by now, and you should be as well but your boss had asked you to stay later tonight, because that fucker isn’t able to prepare a powerpoint by himself. Fucking boomers and their inability to use a computer. You huff in frustration as your heels click on the ground. You try to readjust your tight skirt by pulling at the edge. You hate this office with a passion, from your boss to his abject dress code. You absolutely despise having to dress in a tighter than normal grey skirt along with dark pantyhoses and a white blouse just for him to ogle you and your female coworkers. Your scalp hurts from having to pull your hair in a tight bun everyday.

Your heels are so fucking painful after a day of working, your boss making a point of having you run around the open space for different files that he strangely doesn’t need merely five minutes after asking you for them. You are not his assistant either, so you shouldn’t have to do anything for his fat ass but he holds your career in his hands, promising you the position you aspired towards for the past year without ever committing to his word. You huff again as you try to find your car in the dark, holding your phone between your shoulder and your cheek while you rummage in your purse to find your keys. Your office’s neighborhood isn’t exactly unsafe at night but you’d rather be home as fast as possible.

Admittedly, no one’s waiting for you there, except your bed and a comfy pair of pants, but you still sigh in contentment when you find the button to open your car. You get in in a hurry, throwing your bag across on the passenger seat and starting the car up. You already feel more relaxed in your car, removing your painful heels to drive. Your ankles are covered in blisters for sure and the tight fabric of your pantyhose pressing against the tender skin makes you grit your teeth. You drive home in a hurry, certainly not very safely but you don’t seem to care tonight, still fueled on the rage you piled up inside you today.

It’s definitely not your dream job, but a writer’s salary doesn’t pay the bills, at least not yours. And it’s not that bad; Sure you hate everyone in this office but the work in itself is okay, and the paycheck is worth the trouble. It’s thanks to that that you are two steps from owning your apartment in the center of the city, currently reimbursing your loan from the bank. It’s also why you need that new position; Bigger responsibilities but a bigger paycheck and flexible hours, perfect for an aspiring writer. Most importantly, you’ll don’t have to do anything for your asshole of a boss anymore.

You park in your parking spot down your building complex, calming down as you retrieve your keys from the ignition. You sigh. Sometimes you think you let the rage of your job consume you because it masks the loneliness overflowing from you everytime you come back home. You shouldn’t feel that way; you are the one who decided to move thousands of miles away from your parents. You are the country girl who decided to flee her small town to settle in the big city. You are not the only one, most of your friends moved as well, but not to the capital and sometimes you feel really alone. Even if you live in an over crowded city you can’t seem to find people to talk to other than a therapist.

You sigh as you slip your uncomfortable heels back on, stepping out of your car with your bag. You don’t notice at first the grunts and sounds of straining as you close your door and lock the car, but when you do you still instantly. Your eyes scan all around you while you strain your ears to find the origin of the noise. It sounds like a man is struggling against something, huffing and puffing in frustration.

The parking lot is empty and dimly lit, which is not unusual at this time of the night. You grab your phone tightly in your hand. The screen reads 11:07 pm before you tap on the emergency button. You don’t call the cops yet, but you feel a bit more reassured now that they are only a phone call away. You tentatively step closer to the trunk of your car towards the sound, steadying your breathing to be as silent as you can. Surely the person making the sound has already heard you arriving in your car and knows you are here but the fear gnawing your stomach keeps you from thinking straight. You forget about your painful heels, the rage of the day and your loneliness to focus entirely on the sounds . You can tell the man is still struggling, grunts and curse words alike becoming louder.

The deep voice spits a “Fuck!” and a car two rows away from yours sways lightly as if someone pushed against it. Having finally located the source of the sound you approach the car slowly, only stopping when you are close enough to determine what’s happening. A man is sitted against the back door of said car, head turned to look at his hands behind his back while struggling so that you can only see his raven hair. From the rope tied around his shoulders, you gather that his hands must be tied up as well and that he must be trying, with no success thus far, to break free.

He doesn’t seem to have noticed you yet, and you take advantage of that to figure out what the hell you are supposed to do in this situation. You could call the cops, leave him in their hands and he’ll be fine. Or you could try to free him from his bonds, there’s no need to get the police involved if it’s only a bad prank gone wrong. You glance at the chains around his neck; a silver skull is on the biggest of them and you can’t help but gulp. He could be dangerous… Like a gang member? Who else wears chains and skulls nowadays? Or he could be in danger, you realize as you notice a big dark stain on his khaki shirt. Wait, is that blood?

You let out an involuntary squeak as the stain seems to get even bigger. Your eyes widen when you realize how much you fucked up and you bring your hands to your mouth as if it would silence you but it’s too late. At the sound the man snaps his head in your direction, his grey eyes instantly finding yours. His brows are furrowed in both frustration and surprise, making him look intimidating. What shocks you the most though is the huge scar coming from his forehead to his cheekbone. You can’t help but take a step back, your hands falling to your sides, revealing your gaping mouth.

His eyes scour you and his eyebrows relax when he seems to understand that you pose no threat to him, but he still doesn’t talk. He gets up from where he was sitting, using the car behind him for support, gritting his teeth together in effort. You take another step back and your rear meets the car behind you. He looks much more intimidating now; he isn’t particularly tall nor is he very broad but his stance makes him terrifying. Your instincts are screaming at you to run away, that he is dangerous, but it’s like you are glued in place, unable to move. It’s only when he winces in pain again, surely from the wound on his side that you regain your ability to form coherent thoughts.

He is tied up and wounded; The man’s not a lot of a threat for you right now. A kick in his groin and you should be able to get home without a problem. You gulp before breaking the silence.

“You are wounded… It looks bad” is all you can muster tentatively. Silence.

Wow, that was lame, you internally cringe. He simply cocks an eyebrow and a smirk appears on his lips.

“Yeah, no shit”

You stammer and you feel your face heat up. Unable to find a witty comeback, you just huff, crossing your arms on your chest.

“Look, you need help or not?” you say simply but that is enough to wipe the smirk off his lips. It’s his turn to huff before looking away from you and you wonder how he could seem so intimidating earlier. He turns around, not without difficulty, facing away from you in an incredible demonstration of trust, displaying his tied up hands and you warily step towards him.

“Don’t try anything, I have a taser in my purse,” you bluff, eyeing the ropes currently cutting into his chafed wrists. The ropes are bloodied and you question how long he was trying to break free for. His shoulders move up and down as he laughs.

“I’ll be good,” he says, his voice filled with sarcasm. You roll your eyes. He is way too sassy for someone presently tied up.

You start to tug at his binds, trying to find the knot to let him free. He grunts as you put pressure on the damaged skin of his wrists. You look up from his wrist to look at him. He is turned but you can see his strained face in the car window’s reflection. Now that you can see him from a closer perspective, he looks abnormally livid, eyes unfocused and panting. He looks like he’s about to pass out, you note. Wait, he is passing out! You barely have the time to catch him before one of his knees falters.

“Hey hey hey- Dude? Are you okay?” you ask, voice full with concern. He mumbles, quite clearly unable to talk. “Fuck” you curse under your breath. You’ll deal with the rope later, you need to treat his wound. You grab his shoulder, trying to get him to lean on you and you start to walk to your apartment complex. He doesn’t even try to complain, and you are grateful; It’s already too difficult to carry his weight in your flimsy heels, especially without a good grasp on him. The ropes around him make it difficult for you to hold him steady, and he almost fell a few times when you tried to get a better grip.

Your perfect bun is ruined by the time you reach the elevator, and you are panting from the effort. Who’d have thought having to drag a semi conscious man across a fucking parking lot would be so difficult? The elevator ride provides you with a break, and you simply keep him against the wall while you catch your breath. His face is lolling forward, chin pressed against his chest. He still looks white as a sheet and you start to worry. Was it really a good idea to bring him home? You are capable of treating wounds, that’s not the problem, but if his wound is too deep or if he needs a blood transfusion you won’t be able to do anything.

“Shit, I should’ve brought you to the hospital,” you say, mainly to yourself as you stare at the elevator’s mirror.

“NO!” he shouts, making your head snap to look at him, alarmed. He managed to lift his head to look at you, his grey eyes burning with a fiery determination. “No hospital,” he repeats, and you nod at him, disconcerted. He calms after your nod, his head sinking back down to his chest.

Entering your apartment was a challenge; You had to hold the black haired man against the wall with your side while you searched your purse for your keys. He almost fell when you found them and forgot to press into him against the wall to open the door. Thankfully for him you realised your mistake early enough, dropping both your keys and bag to keep him from crashing on the wooden floor. You are also grateful none of your neighbours decided to take a midnight stroll, or they would have seen you pressing a tied up and passed out man against the wall with your body while desperately trying to open the door. Hardly something you want to be remembered by.

You plop the unconscious man on the couch unceremoniously, forgetting for a second his wound. You wince when you realise your mistake, but thankfully the man is too out of it to make one of his snarky comments. You retrieve your first aid kit from the bathroom and take advantage of his state to treat his wound. It is not too deep so you are able to patch it up without having to stitch him up. You’ve never been so happy to have a nurse as a mother, having learned most of your healing skills from her. You conclude, relieved, that his passing out is mostly due to the shock rather than excessive blood loss, since he didn’t seem to have a concussion when he talked to you. Adrenaline must have kept him in a conscious state of mind until he realized you didn’t mean any harm.

You cut through the rope with a kitchen knife, taking the opportunity to inspect him for any more injuries. You treat his wrists with an antiseptic cream before bandaging them. He is not otherwise severely harmed, though he does sport some nasty bruises on his --surprisingly toned-- chest. What the fuck happened to him?

You sit back on the ground, facing him, when you finally finish your check-up. His breathing is steady and he seems to have regained a splash of color on his face. You take the opportunity to take a better look at him. His features are sharp though he does have a cute button nose and cute pink lips. You shake your head to chase those thoughts. What is wrong with you, checking out a passed out man?

You check for his temperature before sighing. You are incredibly tired, the day was already exhausting as it is, nevermind with this sudden encounter. You decide against putting away the kitchen knife, instead taking it with you to your room. You are nice, not stupid, and though you don’t feel in danger anymore, you are not the one to take unnecessary risks.

It’s already well past midnight when you go to sleep, knife under your pillow. You hope your guest on the couch will wake up early as you need to be up early tomorrow for your job. You’d like him to be gone as soon as possible, men like this only mean trouble. Sure you’d like to know a bit more about him, like how did he wind up in your parking lot at 11pm tied up and injured. But you know the saying, ‘curiosity killed the cat’, and you value your comfortable life too much to put it in jeopardy for a man’s backstory. Who knows what could happen?

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You wake up late the next morning. After a quick shower and almost falling flat on your ass trying to get dressed as fast as possible, you sprint out your room into the living room. The couch is empty and you smile to yourself. He’s gone. Good. It’s one less thing for you to worry about so you dart through the door, trying to make it in time before getting chewed out by your boss for arriving 3 minutes late.

You manage to sit at your desk one minute before the start of your shift and you sigh. Here we go again, another day of having to deal with dumbasses. Despite the fact that you woke up late, the rest of the day proves to be quite good. Instead of being his usual manipulative asshole self, your boss decides to ask you in his office to talk about your well deserved promotion, and tells you that an interview is set for you tomorrow in order to decide whether or not you should get the job. You spend the rest of the day on cloud nine, excastic to finally see your hard work rewarded.

You rush home after another hard day of work, sleep deprived and craving the comfort of your covers. It seems however that fate has other plans for you, you realise when you open the door to fall on last night’s guest. He was still here. Shit. He is comfortably seated on your couch, feet on the table while he’s watching TV. Eyes wide, you drop your bag on the floor.

“What the fuck are you still doing here?! I thought you were gone!” you shout at him. He nonchalantly eyes you up and down, smirking at your crestfallen expression.

“You locked me in this morning,” he answers simply. “I couldn’t open the door to get out.”

The way he pronounces these words without a care in the world leads you to believe he mustn't have tried really hard to get out. You bring your hands to rub your face, feeling anger building up within you. Who does he think he is?

“You have a nice place,” he says gesturing around him with his hand. “Also, you shouldn’t keep a knife under your pillow, it’s dangerous,” he adds, brows furrowed in fake concern.

“You went in my room?!” you ask, clearly fuming. The nerve of this guy!

“Of course, I had to make sure I couldn’t find another exit”, he says, as if it was obvious. This guy is seriously getting on your last nerve, and you grit your teeth, trying to avoid exploding in his face. He seems to pick up on your aggravated state and his face becomes serious. He lifts his feet from the table, standing up to move closer to face you.

“Thank you for last night. I owe you a lot”

He bows slightly and it’s like your anger evaporates, making way for your curiosity to take over.

“Yeah about that… What happened to you last night?” His face hardens instantly and his whole body stiffens. He seems to ponder what to say for a while, obviously not quite ready to let you in on the situation.

“I can’t tell you--”

“I think you owe me that much” you retort, interrupting his refusal. He huffs and thinks for a bit more time.

“You’re right. But don’t say I didn’t warn you. I had... uh... Some troubles... With a gang”

By the way he forces the words out of his mouth, you figure this is the most you’ll get out of him right now. It does make sense in a way, and you are now glad you could help him. You hum in acknowledgment and he seems relieved to know you won’t ask anymore questions. It’s his business anyway, and you already know enough.

“I figure that you need to lay low for a while, wrong?” you sigh, passing by him to go to the kitchen. He looks surprised but quickly regains his composure. He hums positively, still not quite sure where this is going. “It’s late, you can stay tonight as well if you want.”

You don’t know why you are saying this. Inviting a stranger to stay for one more night? Are you going nuts? Are you really that lonely that you would invite someone --whom you met in sketchy circumstances, let’s not forget-- to spend the night with you? His response cuts the little voice in your head nagging at you.

“That’d be good, yes” and you turn to meet his eyes. His face is still serious but you can discern a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“I’m Y/l/n Y/n by the way”

“Min Yoongi”

“Nice to meet you, Yoongi. Tonight’s menu is take out,” you say, turning to face him completely, leaning on the counter behind you.

“I’m fine with that,” he says with a playful smile and you don’t fail to notice the glimmer of amusement in his eyes. Did you say something funny?

You brush it off, instead focusing on ordering chicken fried rice and dumplings from your favorite chinese place in the neighborhood on your phone. Yoongi returns to focus on the TV while you order, and you take advantage of this to observe him. At first glance, he looks fairly nonchalant, without a care in the world, but the more you examine him, you notice the slight movements of his eyes whenever you make a sound. He doesn’t look uneasy, more like generally careful of you. In fact, it looks like he chose to sit where he could monitor you without you catching him, sitting at a certain angle so he doesn’t have to turn his head to watch you.

You gulp, suddenly feeling more on edge than before. Now that you see it, he seems more controlled than you would think, as though the very way he sits is meticulous; as if to convey that he is non-threatening to you, while still being able to act if need be. You can’t help but feel he might have downplayed his troubles, that type of behaviour does not match with a small lowlife’s who would just have “some troubles with a gang”. No, he knows what he’s doing, and has known from the very beginning, purposefully using sarcasm to break the tension and get you to help him. You don’t think he manipulated you into bringing him home though, that man was too passed out to manage that feat.

You grab the counter to ground you. Realising you just welcomed someone that appears to be dangerous and manipulative into your own home is not a great feeling. If Yoongi has noticed your sudden tenseness, he doesn’t let it show. He’ll be gone by tomorrow, you remind yourself, trying to calm your pounding heart. You feel like a prey stuck with a wolf in sheep’s disguise. But you are no damsel in distress, you’ll be just fine if you stay wary. Keep your guard up while not letting him know you figured him out. Guess you’ll be sleeping with a knife under your pillow tonight as well.

The rest of the night continues on fairly pleasantly. You do most of the talking during the night, telling him stories about your awful boss and your dream job. Yoongi is actually good company, listening to you with a smile, though you still feel that he contains himself. You purposefully avoid talking about his past or his job, not wanting to make a wrong move and anger him. The less you know the better. The atmosphere between the two of you is still somewhat tense, and you all but jump when the doorbell rings, announcing your dinner’s arrival.

He does seem to relax once his stomach full, even going as far to flash you a gummy smile when you lose balance and the empty take out boxes come crashing onto the ground. Granted, he was laughing at your clumsiness but you had a good time nonetheless.

“I need to be up early tomorrow, I should hit the sack,” you say while throwing out the take out boxes. “I’ll leave at 7:30 so you’ll have to leave at that time too”, you add and he hums in understanding.

You bid him goodnight before entering your room and as you are pushing the door a small “Thank you, Y/n” escapes his lips. You turn around and return his small smile. Is it just you or did this one seem sincere?

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You don’t wake up sleep deprived this time around. In fact, you feel better than you have in a while. Is this the effect of having company for once? You scoff at your own thoughts before preparing yourself for the day. No, it’s of course because of your near new job interview. Yoongi is up and ready when you step out of your room to get your coffee, his wet hair sticking to his face.

“You want one?”, you ask him, pointing at the coffee machine. He nods and thanks you when you hand him a coffee. This morning feels a little awkward, you note. You are not quite sure what to say in this situation, and apparently neither is he because the both of you are just staring at each other while sipping your coffees, waiting for the other to say something. You also note the contrast between you too; him, wearing worn out grey jeans and an oversized khaki bomber jacket, and you, wearing a tight black skirt, an assorted suit jacket and an ironed white blouse. Once done with your coffee, you slip your uncomfortable heels and the both of you step out into the elevator.

It is finally time for you to separate when you step out on the street. You turn to face him, suddenly feeling embarrassed. What to say? You are relieved when he starts talking first.

“Thank you for letting me stay, Y/n, I owe you one”, he says with a small smile.

“Well, two if we’re honest”, you answer with a smirk. He looks at you amused. You take a glance at your watch. “Alright, I should go, or I’ll be late for my interview. Goodbye, Min Yoongi”. You wave at him. You fail to notice the men coming up from behind him. You should have, you have never seen them before, and them sporting black clothes and heavy gold chains would have stuck with you. Yoongi does notice the ones coming from behind you though, his eyes widening. It’s far too late however, and he cannot reach you before he is grabbed from the back. You scream when you feel two pairs of hands on each side of you, maintaining you in place. Yoongi is trying to fight off his assailants but he is quickly overpowered, knocked out by a nasty blow to his temple. For your credit, your struggling gave them a hard time trying to contain you as well, scratching and kicking in every direction, but a hit in the face is enough to finally calm you, rendering you unconscious.

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You wake up face down in the trunk of a car. You can tell by the sound of the engine as well as the smell of gasoline. Your head hurts and you are disoriented. Everything is dark and you are cramped up in a tiny space, something soft under you. The haze surrounding your mind lifts instantaneously when you remember what happened before you blacked out. You struggle when you find out your hands and feet are tied up, but still at once when the soft thing under you releases an ‘ooomph’ sound.

“Yoongi?!”, you shriek. You immediately regret speaking so loud, cursing under your breath. Just because you can’t hear them in the car doesn’t mean they can’t hear you.

“Yeah..” he responds, voice strained, obviously in pain from the elbow you lodged in his ribs as you tried to move around.

“What the fuck is going on?”, you whisper-shout, anger boiling in your veins. You knew that man was trouble but you invited him in anyway. This is what you get when you don’t listen to your instincts. You hear him sigh above your head.

“Remember the gang I told you about?” he says tentatively, knowing you are only inches away from exploding. “Well, I killed their leader and they are not very happy with me right now.”

You can’t believe what you are hearing.

“And that’s ‘some troubles’ for you?! What the fuck, Yoongi?!”

“That’s really all that you take away from what I just said?”, he retorts in disbelief.

No, it’s really not. But right now, the fact that you are acquaintances with a murderer is the least of your worries. “Fuck”, you utter, hitting your head softly on his chest. The fear mixing with anger inside you makes it difficult for you to think. How are you going to get out of this mess?

“You seem awfully calm for someone who’s just been kidnapped, Yoongi”, you say against his chest, your head still a bit dizzy from the hit you’ve received from your kidnappers.

“This is not my first rodeo, sweetheart”

You scoff at his nonchalant response, but it somehow reassures you a bit. At least you are not alone.

“So, what’s your fucking plan to get us out of here then, cowboy?”, you ask, expecting a brilliant plan to get the both of you out of harm’s way unscathed and-

“I don’t know yet”

Were you drinking anything, you would’ve spat your drink in his face in disbelief. But you are not, so you decide to head butt him in the chest instead. Hard.

“Ow, what the fuck?”, he whisper-shouts, obviously surprised by your sudden violence.

“You got me in this mess dude, now you get me out of it!”

You are seeing red. Even in this kind of situation he isn’t serious, driving you crazy with his nonchalant responses. He is going to get me killed, you think to yourself.

“I’ve escaped once from them, I can do it again. They are not exactly the brightest bunch”, he says, and you feel him shift under you. “The sole fact that they took you with me is proof. Would you turn on your back please, darling?”

Though you don’t understand why, you comply without a complaint. The man is supposed to be used to this, now’s not the time to ask questions. You twist on your back with difficulty, not without purposefully elbowing him in the stomach once again, disguising it as an accident when he starts to curse you out. As soon as you are in position, you feel his hands feeling around their way to yours, reaching your binds in no time. You can’t help but shriek when the cold blade of what you guess is a knife touches your forearm.

“First rule of kidnapping, darling, always check the belt”, he explains while cutting through the rope attaching your wrists together with dexterity. You are free in less time that you need to say it, rubbing your chafed wrists in disbelief. You are impressed to say the least, and quite relieved to have underestimated your kidnappee buddy. He hands you the knife.

“Alright, now I need you to free our feet. With you on top of me like that I can’t do it”

You start to shift in the small space trying to bend in order to reach your feet, feeling as you go. You’ve never been the most flexible but you don’t pay mind to the pain in your lower back as you start to cut through the rope around his feet, a weird feeling of deja vu settling in the back of your mind.

“Wait… Is that MY kitchen knife?!”, you ask in an ushered yet still incredulous voice, recognizing the grip of the knife in your hands.

“Of course it is”, he says as if it was obvious. “Did you seriously think that I, a hit-man searched for by the most dangerous gang of the country, would leave anywhere unarmed?”, he adds after hearing your disbelieving scoff. His feet are free now and you start to cut through your binds.

“The most dangerous- What?! I thought you said they weren’t the brightest bunch?!”, you reply, incredulous, stopping to cut for a second.

“Well yes, I killed the brains of the gang”, he says matter-of-factly. “You done with the knife? Give it to me.”

You hand him back the knife, your ankles now free of the restraints. The car is still moving, and you start to wonder what Yoongi is planning to do. Best course of action would probably be to wait for the car to stop and the kidnappers to open the trunk, taking them by surprise.

This doesn’t seem to be what Yoongi has in mind however, as you feel him start to rip off the carpet on the floor of the trunk. Your eyes widen but you try to move over to the front part of the trunk, letting him space to go on his rampage on the carpet. Has he gone mad? Is this how you die?

“What the fuck are you doing?”, you ask him through gritted teeth. Now’s not the time to attract attention.

“I’m looking for the trunk release cable” he says flatly, obviously focused on his task.

“Huh?”

“It should be… Right about... Here!” He pulls on something at once and the trunk suddenly opens. Your eyes hurt from the abrupt surge of light and you shield your eyes. The car starts to sway dangerously, the kidnappers obviously as surprised as you are to see the trunk pop open. Your eyes don’t have the time to accommodate before Yoongi yanks you by your hand, making you crash in his chest, before jumping, effectively throwing the both of you out of the trunk onto the road. Thankfully, Yoongi had the presence of mind to jump at an angle, making you tumble into the sidewalk instead of underneath the wheels of the car behind yours.

You barely have time to register what just happened before Yoongi pulls you by the hand again. Everything hurts and you are not quite sure what just happened, but you follow suit, running after him. You discard the only heel left on your feet after your little acrobatic feat in order to be able to run properly on the sidewalk. You don’t even pay mind to the incredulous glares the two of you gather. Oh what a sight you must be, running barefoot in the streets, cheeks, hands and knees wounded, your clothes a mess and your previously done up hair flowing in the wind. There are not many people around, making it easy for you to run, but easy for your kidnappers to find you. The car must have stopped a few moments after the trunk popped open because men are running after you, screaming.

Yoongi makes a sudden turn in a narrow and dark alleyway. You want to ask him where he is leading you but you are too breathless to even say a word. You don’t know how long you’ll be able to keep going like that, especially since your feet are starting to hurt from the gravel and the shards of glass covering the alleyway. You keep on running anyway, somehow convinced that the man running in front of you knows what he’s doing.

The sound of a gunshot rings right next to your ears, the bullet embedding itself on the wall alongside you. You shriek as the sound brings you back to earth, and you start to run even faster, adrenaline coursing through your veins. Yoongi doesn’t even flinch, continuing to run, brows furrowed and eyes trained in front of him. You make a second abrupt turn, leading even deeper in the maze of alleyways of your city. This part of the town is known to be the headquarters of the criminal activity, so it’s no wonder you are completely lost here whereas Yoongi expertly proceeds through, leading you to an unknown place.

The deeper you sink in the maze, the more people you meet, and the more scared you become. Everything is so foreign and dangerous to you, and you grip tighter on Yoongi’s hand as he pushes through the mob. It might be a bit stereotypical but these people all look too intimidating to you, especially since you are running away from men who just tried to kill you. You should thank them really, since they help you escape, unbeknownst to them. The alleys are larger now, though still very dark, and your nose catches whiffs of grilled meat and other delicacies as you run past the shady food stands. You are a bit overwhelmed as you progress through the crowd; Your heart is beating in your ears and your mind is racing, unable to entirely make sense of what you are experiencing.

Yoongi yanks on your hand once again, beckoning you to turn in yet another alley. This one is distinctly smaller and emptier than the former, and Yoongi stops abruptly in front of a back door, letting go of your hand to pound on the dirty metal door. His pounding is insistent and for the first time he looks nervous, eyeing where you just came from warily. The door doesn’t seem to want to open despite his persistence and he starts to curse. Behind him, you are quite literally trembling with anxiety. Your heart is throbbing in your chest and you only just realise your cheeks are wet with tears. Have you been crying the whole time?

“Fuck Jin, open the god damn door!”, Yoongi shouts, fist thumping against the metal, startling you from your thoughts. The door finally rattles and opens to reveal a tall yawning man. His brows are furrowed in discontent and you can tell he is going to chew Yoongi out before stopping crestfallen upon seeing his state. He doesn’t even notice you at first, too preoccupied for his friend to cast you a glance.

“Took you long enough” Yoongi grumbles, quickly grabbing your wrist and pulling you inside after him, pushing past his friend who is still staring at him, mouth open wide. The latter sighs before closing the door without a word and following you. The doorway leads to a small living room with a kitchen in the corner lit up by a yellow light bulb. Yoongi lets go of your hand to sink on the couch, and you stay still, not quite sure what to do while Jin settles on the armchair on the opposite side.

Jin looks fairly angry, his eyebrows furrowed and his tired brown eyes shooting daggers at Yoongi. He passes a hand through his black hair, exposing his forehead. He is obviously waiting for Yoongi to explain, his plump lips pressed in a tight line when he realises his friend isn’t going to say anything.

“What the hell are you doing here and what happened to you?” is the first thing he says, concern not well hidden under the apparent annoyance in his tone. He turns his head to you and he shoots you a concerned look. “And who is she?”

Normally, you would have clapped back that she has a name and that if he wanted to know anything about you he could ask directly, but you are too shocked to say anything, still unable to register what is happening right now. He must sense what state you are in because he walks to the kitchen and offers you a drink. You accept it wordlessly, staring blankly at him and then at the glass.

“Well apparently, Wolf’s Fang did not appreciate me killing their leader and tried to kidnap me. Twice”, Yoongi replies with his usual nonchalance. You are happy to note that you are not the only one it drives crazy, judging by the look on Jin’s face.

“Wolf’s Fa- Yoongi, I told you not to approach them, they are trouble,” he says, jaws clenched in obvious annoyance as his friend shrugs. He sighs and turns to you. You can tell he is trying hard to conceal his anger, though the furiousness of his eyes betrays him. “You don’t look so good, sweetheart, you should go to the bathroom”, he tells you, pointing at a corridor. He doesn’t need to pry, you are happy to get away from the tension in the room, making your way towards said corridor.

The bathroom is small, covered in tile. You lock yourself in, slashing your face with cold water, eager for the haze surrounding your mind to leave. You might have a small concussion from your earlier acrobatic feat, along with the mild marks of road burns on the side of your head. You can still hear the argument in the living room between the two men, and you cut the flow of water to listen to the ushered voices.

“-I told you it was the worst idea you’ve ever had, I can’t believe you did it anyway”

“What was I supposed to do, Jin, let them get away with it?”

“It was twenty years ago Yoongi-”

“They killed my parents, I don’t really think there’s a ‘best before’ date on revenge.”

“That is not what I meant and you know it. Just because you are used to killing people doesn’t mean you can take on everyone, Yoongi. They were too dangerous for you but you still went away and killed their leader. I told you to wait and build a team but no, you couldn’t fucking wait, could you? I shouldn’t have told you.”

“It was MY revenge Hyung-”

“That’s why you involved the girl?” Your brows furrow, and you sit on the toilet seat, eager to know what they are going to say about you. Yoongi takes a second before answering, his voice calmer and you have to strain your ears to hear him.

“No. That- That was a mistake. She found me the first time I escaped and she helped me.”

“And that’s how you repay her, by implicating her in your shit?”

“No, I- I just wasn’t careful enough. I didn’t mean for her to get caught up in this.”

“Awww, little Black Crow didn’t want her to get caught in this” Jin retorts sarcastically. “Well guess what, fucker, because of you she’s going to have to hide from one of the biggest gangs in the damn city! I don’t even care that you bring ME into this mess, but you just had to involve an innocent person. I thought you despised that.”

“I fucking hate it!”, Yoongi shouts. “But it’s too late to change anything about that, isn’t it Hyung?”

You rise from your seat, having heard enough. You don’t want them to fight because of you, and you’re afraid you’ve spent much more time in the bathroom than appropriate. Having finally regained your senses, you feel the strain your chase has on your body; your muscles ache and your feet are bloody, shards of glass and tiny pieces of gravel embedded in your skin. You tiptoe back into the living, jaw clenched from the pain, trying to avoid putting too much weight on your feet as well as bloodying the floor. They both fall quiet when you appear through the opening of the corridor, eyeing you with concern.

You can easily guess what is going on in their heads. You are still very pale, and you seem weak, eyes still a bit unfocused as you lean on the wall for support. they must wonder how much you’ve heard, and how much of a problem you are going to be to them. You are a witness and you know what Yoongi does for a living - ha, puns- and though it hasn’t crossed your mind to call the police on them, they don’t know that. Finally, you still have a gang trying to snag you, and you don’t know just how much information your kidnappers have on you. They could try to use you as bait, thinking Yoongi must be attached to you in some way.

In conclusion, this is a mess. You’ve missed both work and your interview this morning and people are bound to ask questions about your whereabouts. You’ve always been the most diligent in terms of work, never taking a day off or arriving more than 10 minutes late. You obviously don’t have your phone or your wallet on you right now, having lost everything when you were kidnapped, and trying to go back to your apartment right now, without your keys on top of that, seems fruitless.

“How are you feeling?”, Jin asks, breaking the uncomfortable silence that settled in the room.

“Still a bit light-headed. I might have a minor concussion… I think. Also I need a first aid kit, if you have one please?”

“Sure, I’ll get you that. Sit down.”

You settle on the other side of the couch as Jin exits the room from the corridor. Yoongi hasn’t said anything yet but you can see hints of concern in his eyes. Similarly to you, his already scarred cheek and his hands are bruised because of the fall from the car, though he doesn’t seem to have hit his head -which isn’t surprising since, unlike you, he was expecting the impact. He moves closer to you on the couch to take your hands in his, observing the wounds on the back of your hands.

You are slightly taken aback but don’t say anything, an unexpected blush creeping on your cheeks. He seems too focused on your hands to notice your tenseness, and you are glad. What the hell is wrong with you? It must be the concussion, making your cheeks heat up, because it certainly can’t be the way his soft hands delicately hold yours- No! What is going on in this brain of yours?

“Are your feet okay?” he asks suddenly, and you squeak in surprise as his grey eyes find yours. He doesn’t comment on your reaction, and you are happy to not receive one of his snarky remarks.

“Not really, that’s why I asked for the first aid ki- Whoa, what are you doing?!”, you shriek when he grabs your legs to prop them on the couch. He sits at the end of the couch, grimacing as he takes in the poor state of the bottom of your feet.

“There’s gravel in there, I’ll have to clean it up--”, he starts.

“No- No, you don’t have to do that, I’ll do it myself,” you interrupt, slightly panicked. To be completely honest, you don’t really trust him to do any good. The man doesn’t exactly save lives, he takes them, and he doesn’t really strike you as the healer type. You think you are saved when Jin comes back and hands you the first aid kit, one of his eyebrows raising in a silent question as he reads the anxiousness on your face. Unfortunately for you, Yoongi doesn’t seem to mind your nervousness, simply snatching the kit from your hands and putting himself to work.

Turns out you were nervous for -mostly- nothing. Yoongi actually has a steady hand, and he removes all gravel and shards of glass in an instant and rather unpainfully. He does however make the mistake of spraying antiseptic directly in your wounds, which hurts like hell. He apologizes profusely, obviously distraught by your unexpected blood curdling scream while Jin laughs freely at his startled face. As he finishes bandaging your feet and Jin brings you hotel slippers to wear for the night. They are way too big for your feet but actually quite comfortable so you accept them with a smile.

You are set to stay low in Jin’s place for the day. It would be too dangerous to leave today according to both Yoongi and Jin, and the both of them decide that you would leave during the night.

“It’s at that time that the alleys are the more crowded,” explained Jin, “the less attention you draw, the better”. That is a kind of logic you can get behind, especially since you can barely walk - let alone run if anything goes wrong.

Yoongi advises you to sleep when he notices your eyes getting droopy, and he leads you to a bedroom. You sink on the bed in exhaustion, your body suddenly refusing to carry you anymore. You feel sleep enveloping you as Yoongi starts to leave the bedroom.

“What’s going to happen after we leave?” you ask sleepily, barely keeping your eyes open. The question stops him dead in his tracks, and he turns to face you, a serious look on his face. He ponders for a little while before answering you.

“I’ll bring you to my place and we’ll find a way for you to go back to your life,” he responds, eyes earnest and you hum sleepily in acknowledgement. Satisfied with the answer, you let yourself slip into an easy sleep.

-----------------------------------------------

You wake up a few hours later, with an empty stomach but an already clearer head. It takes you a minute to remember exactly what happened to you and where you are, feeling dejected when you realise it wasn’t just a very realistic nightmare. It’s all his fault, you realize. Your life was going well before you decided to help Yoongi - well, before you were manipulated into helping him is more correct. Even if you despise your job because of your boss, you still enjoy your little routine. Working during the week to pay off your loan, writing during the weekend or enjoying your free time. Sure you were alone most of the time and you longed to meet new people, you still liked your quiet life. It was all supposed to come together today once you’d get that promotion, but no, that had to be ruined for you. One thing is certain: once all of this is over, you don’t want to ever hear from Min Yoongi again.

You decide to limp to the living room, the rumbling of your stomach prompting you to seek sustenance. Both Jin and Yoongi are in the living room, Yoongi sleeping on the couch while Jin is busy on the phone looking out the window near the kitchen. His brows are furrowed and he looks deep in thought, making you reconsider asking him for food right now. He doesn’t seem to have noticed you entering the room and sitting on the armchair, and you take advantage of this to stare at him in tranquillity.

It makes no doubt for you now that Jin is also a very dangerous man. If his earlier behaviour wasn’t particularly intimidating in any way, the man barking at the phone in front of you exudes a deadly aura. He is quite obviously trying to resolve the mess his younger friend put himself -and you- into, calling multiple people and furiously scribbling on a notepad on the counter in between calls. He seems to know exactly who to contact, calling people back to back, until he slams his phone on the table, sighing in exasperation. He takes his head in his hands and sighs again.

“Jin?” you ask tentatively, and Jin’s head snaps in your direction. His dark eyes immediately find yours, and you gulp, intimidated by his intense glare. When he realises it’s just you, his features soften and you feel yourself being able to breathe again.

“Do you have something I could eat?” you ask after he beckons you to speak with a hum. He nods, making his way to the cupboards. He rummages through them and you settle on a stool behind the counter. Jin doesn’t look satisfied as he pulls out a cup of instant ramen and he shoots you an apologetic smile. “Ramen is fine,” you assure him, feeling too hungry to fuss over the quality of the meal. It actually reminds you of your student days, living off ramen, coffee and the sheer will of escaping your parent’s house. Granted this is not how you envisioned your future, running away from a gang with your new friend Yoongi the murderer, but you longed for adventure, right?

Well it’s not like you have much of a choice anyway, you remind yourself as Jin sets the meager meal in front of you. You must pull a crestfallen grimace because Jin laughs at you and you dive in, eager to hide the embarrassment creeping on your cheeks at his windshield wiper laugh.

“Who were you calling?” you ask with a mouth full, keen to change the focus on him rather than you. He rests his elbows on the counter across from you and he tries to find his words.

“People who could help resolve the situation,” he answers simply.

“Right… ‘Resolve’” you say with a sarcastic smile. The only way to ‘resolve’ the situation, as Jin says, is surely to take out the gang altogether. It is obviously weak at the moment because of the loss of their boss, and it’s the best time to strike.

“We need to ensure your security - that is, unless you believe you can do it alone?” he retorts, raising one of his eyebrows in defiance. You scoff at his smirk.

“Of course not.” You pause. “Thank you for helping me,” you add earnestly after a second.

“Don’t thank me, thank Yoongi. He’s the one who asked me to help you. Apparently he owes you”, he says dismissively, returning to the kitchen to throw away your no empty ramen cup. You swallow with difficulty. Of course he’s only doing that because he owes you, what did you expect? Both of those men are hardened criminals, though you don’t exactly know what Jin dwelves in. It would be foolish of you to think that neither of them is protecting you out of the goodness of their hearts. They are not as naive and generous as you are, and Yoongi could easily have left you to die had you not saved him earlier.

No wait… This is because of him that you are in this mess, of course he has to fix this situation!

“Anyways,” Jin adds as he comes back to face you, “Yoongi is going to bring you to a safer location and then he - along with my team - is going to sort this mess out. And then you’ll be good to go, as if this never happened.”

He emphasizes his last words with a dark fixed gaze on you. You gulp at his sudden change of demeanor from casual to threatening. You know exactly what he means by that; You’ll have to keep quiet about what happened, or else. You nod a bit too eagerly, suddenly intimidated by him. This seems to please him however, and he smiles at you, obviously content that you understand the true meaning of his words.

You spend the next hour or so abstently watching TV from the armchair while waiting, Yoongi still happily slumbering on the couch. There isn’t much more to do than wait, and you are bored out of your wits by the time Jin decides Yoongi slept too much and hits him with a rolled up magazine to wake him up.

“What the- What was that for?!” Yoongi indignantly asks, rubbing his head, his still sleepy eyes shooting daggers at the elder.

“It’s time for you to move” is all he says before he leaves the room, not even paying attention to the string of curses Yoongi sends flying his way. You chuckle at his indignation and he shoots you a dark look, amusing you even further. He sighs before chuckling too and he rises from the couch to stretch his limbs. Jin comes back to the living room with a backpack he chucks at Yoongi. The latter catches it effortlessly before sitting back on the couch to rummage through it, taking out a gun and observing it, checking the magazine in a swift motion.

“You might need that,” Jin says, leaning back against the kitchen counter and Yoongi thanks him. You eye warrily the weapon; You can’t say you feel particularly reassured with this. You’ve never been one to like firearms, and the sole fact that you were shot at earlier today reinforces your apprehension. Yoongi seems to sense your tenseness and he hands you your kitchen knife. You look at him questioningly.

“It might be too early for you to use a gun, let’s stick with things you know for now,” he explains with a knowing smile. For now. You can see Jin’s eyebrows furrow in the corner of your eyes but you don’t comment on his choice of words, merely nodding in understanding. There’s also a pair of grey sneakers in the bag, which Yoongi throws your way. They are too big for your feet but this is the best you are going to get so you don’t complain. You are now set to leave and Yoongi beckons you to follow him through the corridor. There’s a back door that you hadn’t noticed after the door leading to the bedroom.

Yoongi reaches to open the door and stops, taking a look at you. You are opening your mouth to ask him what’s wrong when he suddenly removes his jacket to throw it around your shoulders.

“You’ll attract too much attention otherwise” he says, and he slips through the door. You follow him into the alleyways, clutching his jacket to cover you more, hiding the knife in your hands under it.

The alleys, much like Jin explained, are more crowded than when you arrived. You are significantly less scared than before, focusing on following the man in front of you instead of observing the people around you. Yoongi is leading you through the crowd, eyes scanning the mob looking for potential threats. Jin had advised you to leave separately but it just wasn’t possible for you to navigate through this maze alone, and you are grateful to be with Yoongi right now.

People don’t seem to pay much attention to either of you and you are able to reach an underground parking lot safely. Yoongi had made sure you weren’t followed before reaching for keys in the bag. He presses the button and the lights of a car a few rows from where you are flare up. Yoongi grabs your hand and leads the both of you to the black car, letting you get seated on the passenger side before unceremoniously throwing the bag on the back seat.

The car is surprisingly nice, a black Mercedes with tan leather seats. You squeak in surprise when Yoongi makes the engine roar as you are attaching your seat belt. You don’t even have the time to say anything before he slams the acceleration pedal, leaving the parking spot like a mad man. You grip the armrest in a futile attempt to feel safer, not quite at ease with Yoongi’s aggressive driving.

You can tell he is a good driver, expertly avoiding the few other cars as he speeds down the highway, but you can’t help your heart from pounding in your chest. You’ve never been this fast on the road, and the happy glimmer in Yoongi’s eyes everytime he goes faster doesn’t exactly reassure you.

The only positive aspect with him driving this fast is that you quickly arrive at the destination. You are surrounded by tall glass buildings, and you furrow your brows. This can’t be where Yoongi lives, can it? It doesn’t make sense. Yoongi parks the car in another underground parking structure, and you step out of the car with wobbly legs and a confused expression plastered on your face. You don’t even have time to ask the first of the thousands of questions swarming your mind right now before Yoongi makes his way towards an elevator.

Unlike you, he seems perfectly at ease as he waits for the elevator, even smirking at your bemused face. The ding of the elevator makes you step out of your thoughts and you start to stammer as you follow Yoongi inside. He presses the button going to the 37th level.

“You- You live here?!” you ask, incredulous as the elevator starts its ascension. He shoots you another smirk, his eyes playful.

“What, you think I kill for the sole pleasure of it? Of course not, I’m not a monster, Y/n.”

“I- I don’t--”

“Hitman is a relatively high paying job, I’ll have you know,” Yoongi explains in fake seriousness, obviously reveling on your confused state of mind. You raise one of your eyebrows in defiance at his words, eyeing him up and down as if to prove a point. He isn’t exactly dressed as someone who makes a lot of money. He scoffs at your attitude, and he crosses his arms on his chest.

“Hey! I like these clothes!” he says in indignation and you roll your eyes at him. The elevator stops and the both of you step out of it. “Anyway, nobody knows about this place so we’ll be safe here,” he says while walking to a door at the end of a corridor.

“Nobody?” you ask as he opens the door.

“Not even Jin. It’s a safe measure. I don’t know where he lives either. No one in the gang does. That way, if someone gets caught, they won’t be able to tell where the others are.”

He opens the door and enters his apartment. You take a second to look around you. His apartment is big and modern. The walls are painted white, contrasting with his dark furniture. In the back of the apartment is a huge window, providing an incredible view of the city. But the view is unable to distract you from the many questions swirling in your mind; How many people has he had to kill in order to pay for a place like this? The place you were at just earlier wasn’t Jin’s home? The gang? What is going on? Yoongi must notice your confusion -- maybe because you are still on the doorstep, staring around with a gaping mouth -- because he sighs and starts to explain further.

“We were not at Jin’s. It’s one of our safe places all over the city. There’s always at least one member there, and this time it was Jin’s shift and I knew he was going to be there,” he starts explaining.

“Wait wait- You are in a gang?!” you exclaim, eyes wide. The more you think you know about Yoongi the more lost you get. It wasn’t bad enough that he is an assassin, he’s also part of a gang?

“Would you please come in before shouting those kinds of things?” he retorts through gritted teeth, ushering you inside and closing the door. You sink down on the leather couch and stare in the void, still not quite able to process everything. You should have seen it coming if you are really honest, but it seems that you find yourself to be in an even bigger mess than you thought everytime Yoongi tries to explain himself.

“Yes, I’m in a gang. I’m an assassin. Jin is the leader’s right-hand man. More than that he is my friend,” he says, eyeing you warrily and holding his hands up in a defensive stance, as if scared you’ll explode. If anything, you should be the one to be scared, you think to yourself, especially since you can’t understand why he would say that. Perhaps it’s because you are aware of what would happen to you, would you ever try to say anything to anyone. Not that anyone would believe your story anyway, or that you would risk telling anything to anyone. You shudder when you remember Jin’s hidden warning. Yoongi lowers his hands as you seem to have calmed down and he sits across from you on a leather armchair.

“I talked with Jin about taking down Wolf’s Fang. I’ll leave tomorrow to deal with that with other members of the gang. Then you’ll go back to your life”, he explains nonchalantly. For some unknown reason, his last words set you ablaze with rage.

“What life, Yoongi? You ruined that, remember?” you spit at him harshly, rising from your seat. He looks completely taken aback by your sudden outburst. You had made sure not to let show how much you resent him for dragging you in this situation; You needed him to fix everything, and shouting at him that it’s all his fault surely wouldn’t help your plans at all. But you snap because of his nonchalant attitude. He destroyed your chances at getting your promotion, having to go no-contact. He put you at risk of getting kidnapped and then shot, even though he knew he was himself in danger.

“Aren’t you an assassin, aren’t you part of a gang? Didn’t you know you would put me in danger with you?” you shout at him, pointing at him aggressively to emphasize your words.

“I didn’t mean--” he starts, but you interrupt him. Anger is bubbling inside you and you can’t contain it anymore.

“You knew you were putting me in danger but you stayed anyway!”

“You were the one who said I could lay low at yours!” he retorts, rising from his seat. You scoff at his irrelevant argument and he immediately cringes at his poor wording.

“I didn’t know you were an assassin and a gang member! I would’ve thought twice about letting you come into my life if I knew I’d get kidnapped!” you spit, your jaw clenched in anger.

“I didn’t want this!”

“Well I sure hope so!”, you scoff, hands rising in the air in disbelief. “But what did you seriously expect, huh?” You try to chase away the tears threatening to fall from your eyes. Now is not the time to cry.

“I know I should’ve left you!” he starts in anger but his voice breaks and he looks away. You look at him in confusion. You are not used to seeing vulnerability in him. Granted you don’t really know him but this feels out of character for him. “I just- I didn’t want to be alone,” he says, voice pregnant with emotion. You are taken aback by his sudden openness, brows furrowed and mouth gaping in confusion. He still doesn’t look at you, and you don’t manage to say anything, too lost to be able to utter a word.

He passes a hand through his black hair and sighs loudly. The both of you are standing awkwardly, you staring at him and him making a point of avoiding your eyes. You can tell he’s waiting for you to say something, anything, but you are left utterly speechless. He scoffs darkly before walking towards the back of the room to a kitchen.

“Anyway, you’ll be safe tomorrow, and you’ll be able to leave.”

Yoongi exits the room and you are left alone with your thoughts.

---------------------------------------------------

You decide to sit on the floor in front of the big windows, enjoying the unending view. It must be one in the morning, and the streets are empty, apart from the odd car driving down the road every once in a while. The sight is calming, as you see the few lights still lit up in the night. Your apartment is not exactly downtown so you don’t have a view as nice as this one. Everything is so silent, so still. You know exactly why you are staring so intensely at the view, trying to chase any thought of Yoongi.

You are definitely calmer now but you don’t want to think about him, trying to bottle up any emotion deep down. You’ve never been one to have a healthy relationship with your feelings, and you are not going to start now. Most of your resentment is gone now that you finally confronted him about it, but your last exchange only left confusion. Confusion on what he was talking about, but also on why your heart squeezed so painfully when you saw him so vulnerable or when he walked away from you. You bring your knees to your chest.

In a way, you can understand where he is coming from. You let him stay and threw all care in the wind also because you were feeling lonely. Perhaps both of you were weak at that moment. Surely he should have been more careful, but you don’t blame him as much as you did before.

You hear a door open and close but you don’t move from your spot, keeping your eyes trained on the view. From the corner of your eyes, you see Yoongi sit cross legged next to you. The both of you stay in silence like that for a bit of time, watching the horizon before you decide to break the silence.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you like that,” you say softly, turning your head to look at him. His grey eyes meet yours. They are definitively warmer than before, and you feel reassured.

“Hmm. I just hope the neighbors didn’t hear you scream,” he answers with his usual snarky grin. You shoot him an apologetic smile.

“Yeah, that might be a problem in the future.”

He doesn’t look too concerned, shrugging and leaning back on his arms, stretching his legs as he takes in the view in front of him. One question still plagues your mind, and you can’t stop it from spilling from your lips.

“When you said you didn’t want to be alone earlier, what did you mean?”

He doesn’t look taken aback by your question, and he turns his head back to you, sitting up straight.

“You ever wonder where I got that from?” he says, pointing to his scar across his right side. You nod positively. “When I was six, my parents were attacked by a man and his small gang. My father was a rich accountant who refused to work for them, and the leader of the small gang took offence. One night, they raided my house, torturing and killing my mother in front of his eyes, and they planned to do the same to me.”

Yoongi pauses, staring at his trembling hands, and you regret asking him such a personal question. It is obviously a very difficult subject for him, but he resumes talking before you can say anything.

“Apparently, the neighbors heard the commotion and called the police as the leader carved a line across my eye, so he decided to kill my father and to flee. I was placed in an orphanage for boys. During that time, I met with Jin and 5 other boys. We all grew up without being adopted, and one of the other boys, Namjoon, decided that we needed revenge on life. We started partaking in some pretty illegal stuff, and our little group grew. We were seven at first, and now we are the most powerful gang” he says, a hint of pride in his voice at the last sentence.

“For more than twenty years I searched for the people that killed my parents, and Jin is the one who finally found them. It was the leader of Wolf’s Fang, a rival gang, and I decided that I waited enough for revenge. I made sure he felt tenfold the pain he inflicted my parents.”

Yoongi’s eyes are dark as the night now, contrasting with the paleness of his skin under the moonlight. An aura of dangerousness is radiating from him, and you can’t help but feel intimidated.

“But when I finally killed him I felt so empty. What was there anymore?” he adds with furrowed brows and he stares at his open hands. “I got what I wanted. I lost my edge that day. I had nothing left to fight for, or at least I was convinced of it. They found me easily, I wasn’t even trying to hide. But I remembered that they already caused my family too much pain, I wasn’t going to let them cause more. If I were to die, it wouldn’t be by their hand. So I escaped. And that’s when you found me”

He turns to face you, his eyes back to their warmth, making your cheeks heat up.

“I guess I just needed a stranger to take care of me a little,” he concludes, smiling awkwardly at you.

A comfortable silence settles between you while the two of you enjoy the view. Something seems to have lifted from Yoongi’s shoulders, he looks much more relaxed than when you entered his appartement. Maybe because he told you everything, the whole truth, and that he doesn’t need to hide anything from you.

You don’t know how much time you spent in silence together, enjoying each other’s presence before you start to feel tired again. You haven’t really slept that much yesterday and all the tension from the day vanishes, leaving tiredness in its wake. A yawn escapes your lips. You don’t even know why you lean your head on his shoulder but you do, perhaps too sleepy to even realise what you are doing. Yoongi doesn’t seem to mind thankfully, and he leans his head on top of yours. You fall asleep like that, and you don’t even stir when Yoongi lifts you up to place you on his bed before joining you.

--------------------------------------------------

It’s well into the morning when you wake up. It takes you a minute before understanding where you are, your heart racing a bit when you realise you are alone in an unknown bed. Yoongi must already be gone, you realise when you walk into the empty living room. It’s already 12 am so you decide to head to the kitchen in search of something to eat. After your meal, you take a shower, taking some clothes Yoongi left for you this morning. You can’t help the blush creep on your skin as you realise he thought to leave you clothes just before leaving to take down a gang. The clothes he left are too big for you, an oversized t-shirt, a sweatshirt and a comfortable pair of sweatpants, but you enjoy the cozyness --and his smell on the clothes-- too much to complain.

The rest of your day is spent waiting. You start by exploring every inch of the apartment, trying to discover more of Yoongi. Unfortunately for you, you don’t find anything except one photo, hidden between two books. You found it by error, accidentally knocking a row of books on the desk. You instantly recognize two people in the photo, Yoongi and Jin. They seem much younger, barely adults. The others seem much younger, and your heart twists. These boys are too young to be in a gang... You turn the photo to inspect the back and you find an inscription.

“Birds of prey - 2013

Namjoon, Seokjin, Yoongi, Hoseok, Jimin, Taehyung, Jungkook”

The seven of them are looking in defiance at the camera, as if they have something to prove. You sigh before placing back the photo.

By the time seven rolls around, you can’t help but feel a bit worried. Is it normal that he’s been gone for so long? What if something has happened to him? What are you supposed to do then? You decide against pacing, choosing to sit on the armchair across the door instead, knees to your chest as you wait for his return.

When the door finally opens, you spring from your seat. Yoongi comes in while limping but as soon as his eyes fall on you, a warm smile erupts on his bruised face. You are too preoccupied by his disheveled state to return his smile, instead coming to his side to help him walk to the couch. He stops you in your tracks with a raise of his hands.

“Don’t worry, someone already took care of me. I’m all patched up,” he reassures you, and a bit of tension eases from your shoulders. You sit on the armchair as he settles on the couch. He can tell that you are dying to know what happened, seeing as you are practically buzzing across the edge of your seat across him.

“It’s over,” he states simply at first and you let out a sigh of relief. It’s finally over? It almost doesn’t feel real, as if these past days were just a dream. “We took care of most of the members, and Namjoon ordered some of our men to make sure the rest join them soon”

“That means I can go home?” you ask excitedly. You could have sworn you saw a hint of disappointment in his eyes but it left as soon as it came.

“Yes, of course,” he says, “I could drive-”

“But first, we need to celebrate our freedom,” you interrupt him with a smirk. He is surprised at first, but soon returns your smile.

“You’re right, let’s order some takeout for tonight”

You spend the evening eating and laughing. You are happy to finally see Yoongi relax completely with you, able to tell you stories about his life. You now would like to meet the rest of the boys in the photo, first and foremost to thank them since they were part of the team that took out the gang, but also because they sound funny in Yoongi’s stories. They all seem closer to a family than most of the conventional ones, and the fact that they are gang members doesn’t really scare you anymore. They are Yoongi’s friends, after all.

By the time you finish your meal and a movie, it’s ‘unfortunately’ too late for you to go home, and Yoongi advises you to stay just one night more. Seeing that you’ve done the same for him, he has to return the favor, he explained, and you happily oblige, perhaps a bit too ecstatic to be able to spend more time with him. It’s funny how fast you’ve come to trust this man and enjoy his company, even though you are aware of his profession.

This time, it’s him who falls asleep first, head leaning on your shoulder while watching a movie on the couch, and you decide to put him to bed. You chuckle at the feeling of deja vu when you lead him to the bedroom, supporting him as he limps his way to the bed. You pause for a moment after he sinks on the mattress; Where are you supposed to sleep? On the bed with him? On the couch? You are about to step out of the room when a hand catches your wrist.

“Where are you going?” he asks groggily, eyes barely open to look at you. You smile at him.

“Nowhere” you answer, and he closes his eyes back, his hands slipping from around your wrist as a reassured smile creeps across his lips.

You settle on the other side of the bed, careful to still put distance between you. You turn on your side to be able to face him. He is peaceful like that, and you smile to yourself as you brush away the stray strands of black hair covering his eyes.

The next morning passes rather quickly, mostly due to the fact that you sleep off most of it in Yoongi’s arms. After a rather flustered waking up, and an awkward breakfast, the both of you decide to get you back to your apartment. You need to swing by your office first, as you need to retrieve your spare apartment keys in your locker. If you were previously warry to go back there and face your boss, you don’t even care anymore. You’ve almost died for fuck’s sake, what can he possibly do that will scare you. If anything, he will be the one to be scared if he dares to say anything, Yoongi assured you, making you smile.

This time, he drives rather calmly and you are grateful for that. First of all because you don’t want to die in a car crash, and secondly because the longer the ride, the more time you can still spend with Yoongi. He is more silent than usual, a sullen look on his face. You can understand him, for some reason you aren’t exactly the happiest at the prospect of going back to your previous life, to your stupid job and your stupid boss, and more importantly to your empty and lonely apartment.

Maybe some of Yoongi’s nonchalance rubbed off on you, you think to yourself as you stroll inside your office building, wearing oversized sweats and followed by a scary looking man with a scar across his face. You don’t even stop to answer the questions the office bitch sends your way, shutting her up with a dark glare. You’ve never liked her, she always took credit for other’s work, so you don’t feel guilty for scaring her. You go straight to your locker, Yoongi still following behind you. You are thankful for him being with you, you are sure you wouldn’t have the same confidence without him.

You are rummaging through your locker and retrieving your things when a furious voice interrupts you.

“Y/l/n! Where were you? You’ve missed almost a week of work! It’s unacceptable-”

A week? What a joke, it’s only the third day you’ve missed. Anger starts to bubble inside you. You’ve never missed a day of work before, and this asshole makes it as though it was a regular occurrence, not an ounce of concern in his annoying voice as he shouts. You tune him out as you continue to search for your stuff, and you ignoring him only seems to infuriate him more - and you love this. You’ve suffered his abuse too much to pay anymore attention to him, and when you finally find your keys, you slam your locker door, shutting him up instantly.

You turn around to face him, reveling on the look of absolute shock written on his face. The once so soft spoken and respectful employee is so disrespectful now. You notice Yoongi glaring daggers at him, jaw clenched, and you are thankful that he doesn’t say anything. This is your moment.

“Listen asshole, I’ve had enough of your shit. So stop harassing me or I’ll make sure you won’t ever be able to open that mouth of yours again,” you spit coldly. He stammers, trying in vain to say anything. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Also, don’t even dare try to complain about me to HR or the police, I have enough proof of workplace abuse to get you fired in a second. I’ll be back to take the rest of my stuff,” you add, glancing around in the office to find every pair of eyes on you. Satisfied with your little outburst, you leave, prompting a smirking Yoongi to follow after you.

It’s only in the car that the frown on your face lifts instantly and you burst in laughter with Yoongi.

“That felt good,” you confide with a playful grin. He returns your smile, his eyes twinkling with something that looks like awe and pride. The car ride to your apartment is already more cheery, the both of you laughing at the looks on their faces when you exited dramatically. You’ve dreamed of doing that more than once, and it seems that Yoongi gave you enough confidence to stand up for yourself this time.

The realisation that it’s goodbye seems to dawn the both of you when you enter the elevator. Your heart squeezes in your chest as the elevator gets closer to your floor. This can’t be it. You have to do something. The door opens on your floor and you step out after Yoongi.

He follows you to the door and waits as you turn your key in the lock. Thoughts are swirling in your brain; Will you be able to see each other after this? Does he even want to? You turn around when the door is finally open. You don’t know what to say, and your racing mind isn’t helping you trying to figure out a way for him to stay with you. He seems nervous as well, biting his bottom lip as his eyes avoid yours.

“Thank you… For keeping me safe,” you say meekly, cheeks heating up. His smoke colored eyes meet yours.

“Of course Y/n, you saved me first,” he responds softly, a small smile tugging at his lips. He does have pretty lips. So pink, and they look so soft. You don’t even realise you are staring at them until they come closer. Wait what? You snap your eyes to Yoongi and you meet his gaze. His face stops only inches away from yours and you feel your whole face burn, and your heart beats at a thousand miles an hour. He is right there in front of you, so close that you can feel his hot breath tingling against your skin, yet he is not close enough for you.

You crash your lips against his in impatience. It feels as though you’ve been waiting for this for your whole life, feeling so right to be in his arms. The kiss is full of passion, his tongue sneaking past your lips to find yours. His hands grip on your hips to get you closer and you practically melt in his arms. Everything feels so hot, his lips against yours, his hands on your skin, your hands entangled in his hair. You breathlessly pull away from his kiss to grab him closer to you, flushing his body against yours. He hastily closes the door behind you and his lips resume their assault on yours. Let’s just say that you stayed together in more ways than one that day.

------------------------

Meeting Min Yoongi was maybe the best mistake of your life. Sure, you got kidnapped and shot at, you lost your job and had to hide from a powerful gang with an assassin, but you’d do it all over again just for him.

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Thank you @minty-joonie and @wwilloww for helping me proofread!

I hope you liked it!! Please tell me what you thought of Black Crow!!

💜

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gracedpersassonality · 4 years ago

Text

The Best Present - A Little Christmas Story

I wish we were kissing under mistletoe

The stars on the sky just can't match your glow

Now I can't wait 'til you're by my side

We'll be warm by the fire all night, oh

I wanna hold you while the bells are all ringing

Want you to be here while the angel's singing

Days are perfect when I got you near

My only wish is you here

Christmas Without You - Ava Max

The snow was slowly falling in big white flakes to the ground and covered everything with a beautiful thick coat. The streets were empty and everything was peaceful silent. Percy was shivering from the cold and pulled his scarf a bit tighter. He was running late as usual. Leo invited all of them for Christmas eve to his home like he did every year. He loved the tradition. And the food. And the decorations. And the fact that mostly everyone of their friends was able to come. It was far too seldom that all of them saw each other.

Percy went a bit faster which wasn't easy because the floor was icy and slippery and he was carrying his Secret Santa present for Annabeth in both hands and balanced the blue homemade chocolate chip cookies from his mother on top of it.

He almost made it safe to Leo's front door. Almost. On the path to the house was ice under the snow and Percy slipped, pressing the gift and the cookies to his chest, trying to catch himself. "Woah! Watch out!" Jason shouted before he grabbed him in the last second and made him standing still again. "Gotcha" he chuckled.

"Oh gods thank you. You saved me and the cookies." Percy said breathless.

"For the sake of the cookies look where you're going the next time." Jason joked.

"Yes... You're right. The next time I just fly to the door. No big deal." Percy replied sarcastically looking into Jason's bright blue eyes. They sparkled in the Christmas lights and reflected all the different colours. Percy can't help it and a goofy grin spread over his face which Jason mirrored. The snowflakes has covered Jason's blond hair, which made it look white and his cheeks where light red from the cold. This was one of these moments Percy got totally lost. He just want to take a picture and framed it that's how beautiful Jason looks in these light.

He was shaking his head to clear his mind, he was getting creepy again. He really had fallen for Jason in the last year. There were these moments when they looked at each other a second too long or when they touched accidentally. But it never happend more than this. They never cross the line that would end their friendship. Percy still waited for the perfect moment to confess his love. He was to afraid that he just interpreted too much in their interactions. Maybe Jason was just too dense to get the hints Percy dropped time by time. Maybe Percy was just wishing that Jason always seemed to making excuses to touch him or be in his near.

Jason cleared his throat. "Maybe we should go inside."

It took it's time till Percy realised what Jason said. " Yeah I guess so." But both didn't move. They still locked their eyes, smiling like idiots and no one want to look away first. It hit him like a sudden and blinding realization and it dawned to him. This moment seemed to be perfect. "Uhm, Jason? I have to tell you something." Suddenly he was getting really nervous. What if Jason didn't feel the same? Would he believe him? What if he even laugh at him? What if Percy was about to destroy their friendship right now? Maybe he should wait with it after the party. Then he wouldn't ruin it by make it awkward at least. He felt like a coward. He just was searching for excuses.

"What now? Say what's on your mind." Jason face turned serious.

He got an urgent feeling of throwing up. "It's freaking cold and I'm freezing. Let's go inside. Why doesn't the cold bother you too?" He said laughing. Hopefully Jason didn't hear that it was forced. Yep, he definitely was a coward.

They knocked at the with ornaments decorated door and Hazel opened it. The smell of pine, cinnamon and hot chocolate filled the cold evening air and Christmas songs are played in the background. "Ah there you are, we're finally complete. You two are late. What happened?"

"Nothing" Percy said a little bit too fast as he entered the house, hoping that everyone attributed his red face to the change from the cold outside to the warm inside.

"Percy's just being clumsy not more", Jason laughed and entered the house as well.

Both took off their thick coats and scarfs and hang them on the wardrobe. "Nice sweater Percy" Jason teased him.

"I can only give that back." Two years ago Jason had Percy as his secret santa and he got the ugliest sweater Percy could found. It was baby blue with lighting bolts on it which actually can blink. The next year Percy got his payback. Jason bought him a green sweater with tiny waves on it. There were also a button which caused an awful sung christmas song when it was pressed. Percy secretly loved it.

Hazel led them to living room. They were welcomed by 'Merry Christmas Everyone' that was blasted by Leo's sound system. Percy couldn't stop to be surprised how much efford Leo put in the decorations every year. And he tops himself year by year. There was a huge christmas tree with every kind of decoration you could put on. The whole room had it's own christmas themed light installation and Percy really become worried that all of this would end in a short circuit.

The whole crew was spread out in the room. Frank, Reyna and Piper were sitting on the couch chatting and eating from the with sweets filled plates in front of them. Leo and Annabeth standing in the corner bowed over some cables and it seems like he was explaining how he managed the power distribution. Grover, Will and Rachel were standing in front of the music system singing along. Only Thalia wasn't there. She was on the other side of the country and didn't make it this year.

Jason and Percy put their presents under the tree while Hazel took the cookies and put them in the kitchen. As she came back she shoved Nico in the room with the words "You can't stay in there forever." "But there I don't have to deal with all these happy people." He mumbled, but everyone knows that Nico secretly was enjoying the Christmas Partys.

"I'm going to grab us some hot chocolate" Jason declared and vanished in the kitchen. He came back with two steaming cups. Percy has joined their friends on the couch and so did Jason. As he recognized that there were only blue marshmallows in his cup, a smile stole on his face again. He was always smiling when Jason was around.

And so the time passed away with a lot of laughter, crooked sung songs and many happy faces. Even Nico smiled from time to time and everyone was filled with love for their friends.

After everyone had handed over the presents, Percy just leaned back and enjoyed the scene which was chaotic as usual. Annabeth already has started to read in one of the books Percy got her, while Leo was leaning over her shoulder and pointed at something in the book. His socks he got from Grover were flashing like a Christmas tree. Frank with his new purple sweater from Reyna was about to put a necklace around Hazel's neck. Jason gave Nico a new necklace as well and Rachel got a new sketchbook set from Piper and was about to draw her sitting under the Christmas tree. She was reading the voucher she got from Will and Reyna got a new pair of dog leashes and collars from Annabeth. Will was presenting his new shirt from Hazel which fits the one Nico was wearing. Rachel's gift for Grover was a new pair of shoes she has customized. Leo tried to get Thalia home for Christmas but it wasn't possible so he organized a video call for Jason as a compromise solution. And Percy has to keep himself from starring at Jason who was laughing with his sister. Little tears of joy in the corner of his eyes. He himself received new gloves and a matching scarf from Nico.

He was so happy that he can count so many people as his friends. No they were more than friends. This was his second family. And he knew that everyone was feeling the same.

After some time has passed, Jason ended the call and looked a bit sad for a moment, but quickly recovered. His sister was the only one left from his family and it was the first time he was supposed to be alone on Christmas and new year. Percy leaned over to Jason and whispered: "Don't tell anyone but remember me to give you your Christmas gift when we are leaving." Maybe it was against the rules of Secret Santa but he couldn't stop himself to get Jason a present as well.

"That's not fair! I haven't a present for you." He whispered back.

"Nah it's fine. It didn't cost anything so it's totally okay"

"So you made it by yourself? Now I want to know what it is."

"You will see." Percy made his troublemaker smile and looked into Jason prying eyes.

"Hey you two lovebirds, " Reyna interrupted their eye contact with a snap and both turned their heads towards her, "I've asked if you want to play charade with us but you seem to be busy."

"No no. I would love to play! What about you Jase?"

"I'm in!"

Laughter filled the house and in the end nobody knew who won.

It was late. Very very late. Well past midnight. Maybe Percy fall asleep once or twice, he wasn't really sure by himself. "Maybe I should go home soon", he declared with a yawn, his head resting on Jason's shoulder.

"Yeah me too." Jason shifted a bit, so he can look in Percy's tired eyes. "I drive you home. It's cold and dark outside and I don't accept a 'No'."

Percy knew he didn't have a chance to deny. Jason could be very stubborn when it come to situations like this. So he didn't resist and as a bonus he has time to give Jason his gift. After a lot of hugs they were driving to Percy's.

"So the present I was talking about... You still alone on Christmas?" Percy asked softly.

"Yeah but it doesn't matter I'm fine, just having myself a little Merry Christmas you know" Everybody would believe him but not Percy. Jason's voice was a tiny bit rougher than normal.

He could feel his heart nervously beating in his chest. "You can stay with us. I asked mom already and she said she would be very happy if you would join us."

"No I can't." Percy felt his heart stutter. He planned this since he knew that Thalia wouldn't make it. Nobody should be alone. Especially not Jason.

"Why not?"

"It's your family and I don't have any presents. I can't crash Christmas without presents."

Percy let out a released laugh. "That's what you are worried about? Well than you can come with me. I bought too many gifts anyways. We just change the tags. And for me it's really enough when you celebrate with us. How about that?"

A defeated smile stole on Jason's face. "Only if I can give you your money back."

"Alright. If you want to drive home first, you need to pack your things, you can stay at my home. It's already late and so you can't oversleep. " in the joy of Jason saying Yes he invited him spontaneously but regretted it right after saying it. He didn't want to overdo it so hopefully it wasn't a big deal for Jason.

"Unlike you I never oversleep but I would love to stay at your's"

Percy looked with a wide smile outside the car window. This was one was on it's best way to be the best Christmas ever.

As they were finally parking by Percy's mom it's started to snow again. Luckily they didn't have to drive anymore. His house wasn't decorated like Leo's but at least there were Christmas lights and one look at Jason was enough to be reminded of earlier this day. His eyes, it were always his eyes that made Percy fall in love with him a little more. And the way he was smiling at this moment brightened his heart. “You know this is one of the best presents I ever could get? I thought I would be lonely on Christmas." There were tears in his eyes and without thinking Percy hugged him.

"Nobody deserves to be alone if they doesn't want to. And I am so happy you are here with me."

"Thank you." Jason voice cracked and he cleard his throat. Percy let go and before he could start a second try to confess his love he pulled out his key awkwardly and said: "You don't have to thank me. But I'm freezing, let's get inside." At which point in his life he turned in this little coward? The problem was Jason was way too important for him and he didn't want to lose him.

"I guess my family already fall asleep, so we have to be silent." Percy whispered as he opened the door. They entered the house and walked as quiet as possible through the hallway till Jason suddenly stopped.

"You okay?" Percy turned around an looked at him. He seemed to be a bit nervous. Maybe he was afraid what his family could say.

After not answering his question Percy tried to calm Jason. "Hey, you don't have to be afraid or something. My family knows that you are coming with me. And especially Estelle is glad to see you."

"Yeah I know, that's not the problem."

"Then what is it?" Percy started to getting nervous too. What if Jason didn't want to be here and was just too polite to deny and now he regretted it? But Jason seemed so happy to be here a few seconds ago. So what was making him so nervous?

"Look up." He didn't suspect this reply at all and look at the ceiling in confusion.

A mistletoe. There was a mistletoe above him and while Percy still was wondering why it was there, because his mom never hung up one, Jason take a step towards Percy. Percy slowly look back to Jason. He could feel his heart beating in his chest. Jason was starring on his lips. He couldn´t breathe. He couldn´t think. With a glance in his eyes Jason made sure if Percy was okay with this and finally overcome the last few centimeters. Cross the line of their friendship.

And then he kissed him.

Once, twice and then a third time. They couldn´t stop and soon it happend that Jsaon was pressing Percy against the wall. It taste like Christmas and chocolate and it felt like finally coming home.

They only broke away from each other to catch a breath. Jason leaned his forehead against Percy's, while their hearts were racing, both with a big smile on their face and a little bit of disbelive in their eyes. Like this was a wonderful dream. "Merry Christmas, Percy." Jason whispered.

Percy was way too overwhelmed to reply but one glance was enough to know this wasn't just a kiss under the mistletoe. This kiss was the certainty that his feelings wasn't one-sided. This kiss was all he ever wanted. And this kiss was the best present he ever could get for Christmas.

#jercy #percy and jason #jason and percy #jason grace #percy jackson #and yes I still don't know how to use the tags correctly 😂#There is a chance that I wrote the first 1000 words in the end of May and yes I listen to Christmas music in the summer and I'm proud of it

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atlafan · 5 years ago

Text

Take it Slow - Part Fifteen

a/n: okay this is my first shot at a harry:y/n fic, and it will be multiple parts. y/n had a bad experience with an ex over a year ago, and finally accepts her coworker and good friend Niall’s invitation to go on a blind date with his friend Harry.

(This part is loooong fam, but I promise it delivers. Fluff and smut.)

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine Part Ten Part Eleven Part Twelve Part Thirteen Part Fourteen

Masterpost

You told all your friends about your upcoming weekend with Harry. Niall was just as excited for you. You didn’t bother telling your mom, and you certainly haven’t told your siblings. You still hadn’t updated your Facebook status. You found yourself using social media less and less the more you hung out with Harry.

You didn’t want to pack too much, but you also wanted to have enough options with you depending on the weather, Harry had been really busy these last couple of weeks. Everyone was trying to get in Fall photoshoots while the leaves were changing. You decide to pull out your small carry-on bag with wheels.

One night after work you went to a lingerie store to pick out something cute to wear. You found a silk, short night gown. It was blush pink with black lace over where your breasts would sit. You pack that first. You pull out some black booties and a couple different pairs of skinny jeans. You decide on a pair of leggings for the drive, you’d be going up Friday afternoon.

Next you had to tackle your toiletries. You had a bag for makeup, a bag for facial wash and moisturizer, and your travel body wash. Once you were satisfied with everything, you left it all near your door, so you could grab everything easily.

You leave work around 3PM to get back to your apartment to change. Niall wished you safe travels. You weren’t sure what was going to happen this weekend. You still weren’t ready to have sex with Harry, but you felt like you needed to give him more. You knew he wanted to use his hands more by the way he would grab at you. Would it be so bad if he fingered you? Your therapy has been helping a lot. Dr. Mara has helped put you back at ease. Jake can’t hurt you ever again. This was Harry, your Harry, who treats you like an absolute princess.

While you’re changing into your leggings, you hear the rustling of your door. Harry walks in with a beanie on. You trot over to him, and wrap your arms around his neck. He kisses you and smiles.

“I’m so excited Harry.” You squeak.

“Me too, I feel terrible I’ve been so busy.”

“It’s okay, it’s nice that you get so much extra work.”

He grabs your bags and brings them down to his car. It would be a little over a two hour drive up to New Hampshire. He let you pick the music. You put an RnB playlist on from 2014. You told him these were some of your favorite songs your sophomore year of college. Once in a while one of you would shout that you loved a certain song, or that you forgot it existed. Eventually you switched to some other playlists you had. You made a playlist with a bunch of songs you would listen to with your mom on long car drives. It had a mix on Bon Jovi, Journey, Barry Manalow, Gary Pucket, Eddie Money, and the Righteous Brothers. Harry was surprised you liked any of that type of music.

“How do you know all of these songs?”

“Well, my mom used to take us on a bunch of road trips and long car rides. She had these two huge CD cases in the car. She would let us pick which ones we wanted to listen to, and she would turn the volume like all the way up. We would just jam out and sing at the top of our lungs.” Shakin’ by Eddie Money comes on next. “Shit, I love this song, mind if I turn it up?”

“Go for it.”

You turn it up, and start singing along. Harry has never heard you really sing before. You didn’t have the greatest voice in the world, but you still sounded good. You could sing on key and in tune. You had sung this song enough times to know how to sing it right. Harry smiled while you sang, stealing glances when he could.

You made pretty good time to the inn. Harry only lets you carry in one of the small bags, while he carried the rest. He goes up to the check in counter, and you take the two room keys. You’re up on the second floor. As you walk in you’re in awe of how beautiful the room is. You put your bag on the floor and flop onto the bed. Harry laughs, but follows your lead.

“This bed is sooo comfy.” You sigh. “What time is it babe?”

“Just about six. We could just order room service tonight so we can relax. Go check out the bathroom, there’s a little surprise.”

You get up, and go into the large en suite. There’s a giant Jacuzzi tub that is begging to be filled. You walk back out to Harry who has a cunning grin on his face.

“Good thing I brought a bathing suit.” You wink at him.

“You don’t need a bathing suit to wear in a tub.” He wraps his arms around your waist.

“I brought a cute bathing suit, I intend to wear it.”

You unpack a bunch of your things while Harry orders room service. Twenty minutes later, a bottle of wine, two salads, and a side of fries are delivered to your room. The food is delicious, and the wine is perfect for an after dinner treat.

“Alright, let’s see that bathing suit.” Harry says while you pull your hair up into a messy bun.

“Let’s see yours.” You raise an eyebrow at him.

You go into the bathroom and change into a blue string bikini. It had a cheeky bottom, and the top just covered your breasts enough. You rarely wore it, but knew it would drive him wild. You turn the bath on to fill it up, and open the door to peak out. Your eyes grow wide when you see Harry wearing a pair of short yellow bottoms. You cough to get his attention, he whips around to look at you.

“Holy shit.”

“Told you it was cute.” You say, sauntering towards him.

“Do you wear this a lot?”

“God no, it’s way too revealing, this is a special bathing suit.” You look down at his shorts. “Yours is very cute.” He scoffs at you.

“C’mon, let’s not let those jets go to waste.” You grab the wine and your glasses.

You both get in and sigh immediately. The jets feel incredible. At first you’re sitting across from him, sipping on your wine.

“I’m so glad we did this, a perfect way to spend a long weekend.” You say.

“Yeah, it’s nice to get away once in a while. If you could go on any holiday what would it be?”

“Well, I usually go to Florida to visit with my Nannie. She has a house on the west coast, in this little community. There’s a pool and a rec center. Sometimes I’ll go with her to her jazzercise class, it’s a lot of fun. Honestly, it’s my happy place.”

“You’re really close with her, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.” You want to change the subject. You’re not ready to dive in about your relationship with your grandparents, in fear you may cry. “But I suppose for like a real vacation, I love getting to go to Aruba. I’ve been twice. Oh! I went to Israel my senior year of college for a birthright trip, I’m desperate to go back there.”

“Wow, Israel, that’s incredible.”

“My sister and I went with a group, it was amazing. Honestly, my ideal vacation is just somewhere warm. I love going to the beach and getting to be lazy. I’m not into like the backpacking across a bunch of different countries thing. I bet you’ve been all over Europe.”

“Sort of. We lived hours outside of London growing up, and I never went until I was like sixteen. We didn’t have a lot of money, and going there was something the like rich kids did on the weekends. I like going to the beach too.”

“You definitely tan well, you were practically golden when you came back from New Mexico.”

“How nice of you to notice.” He takes a sip of his wine. “You’re too far away, c’mere.” You giggle and go over to him, straddling his legs so you can sit in his lap. “Much better.” You press your chest against his so he can feel you.

“So, what did you go to Aruba for?”

“Hm?”

“You mentioned you’ve been there a couple times? Was it a cruise or something?”

“Oh, no…my grandparents have a time share there. I got to go the first time as a sweet sixteen type thing. It was the most relaxing trip, but I’m always relaxed with them. The second time I went was last April with my mom and Nannie. It was the first time she had been back since I went.”

“Why’s that?” Your eyes droop, your lips form into a frown. “Sorry, I’m being nosey.”

“No, it’s okay. Um, it’s just hard to talk about is all.” You sigh. “Not something I want to dive into this weekend.”

“Alright…sorry again.” He smiles at you.

You run your wet hands through his hair while he presses his hands into your lower back. You lean down and brush your lips against his.

“You’re so handsome.” You scrunch his hair in your hands. “And your hair is always so soft.” You feel the wine hitting you more now. You lean down and kiss him, him happily taking your bottom lip into his mouth to suck and bite on. “Harry?”

“Mm?” He says, working his mouth to your jaw to plant kisses on.

“I really wanna cuddle tonight, can we do that? Just hold each other?” He looks up at you with his green eyes. His pupils are dilated.

“Of course, love. We can do whatever ya want.” You sigh happily, and set yourself so your back is to his chest.

The two of you continue to talk, and share travel stories. You learned that Harry loved when he could go to Jamaica, and he had spent one of his winter breaks in Japan all by himself. You told him more about your week in Israel, and how you’ve always wanted to go to Greece. When the water started to cool, and you both started to get pruney, you decided it was time to get out of the tub.

Harry changed into a pair of grey sweatpants, while you rummaged in your suitcase. You only brought the sexy nightgown for bed. You wanted to wait until tomorrow night to show it to him.

“Um, Harry?”

“Yeah babe?”

“Could I borrow a t-shirt for bed?” He smirks and hands you the one he had on earlier.

“Hope you don’t mind it bein’ used.”

“Not at all.” It smelled just like him, how could you mind? You wiggle on a pair of cotton panties, and climb onto the bed with him. “Why are hotel beds always so comfy?”

“I think it’s a scheme to make people come back.” He says with a half smile, and a yawn. He must be tired from the long drive. “I’m gonna turn the light off.”

“Sounds good.”

You turn over, pull is arm with you, and he wraps it around you. He nuzzles into your hair and lets out a sigh. You wiggle your butt to adjust to his shape while his legs tangle up with yours. You felt small yet safe in his arms. His body was so much bigger than yours, but it didn’t over power you. He was always so gentle and caring. You hear his light snores in your ear, and it makes you smile. He was just as comfortable with you as you were with him.

The next morning, your eyes flutter open, almost forgetting where you slept. You were laying on your back with Harry’s head nestled into your shoulder. You detach yourself from him so you can go have a shower. You needed to wash your hair today. You grab your toiletry bag, and head into the giant shower that had a waterfall head.

Harry woke up to the sound of your blow dryer, confused that you weren’t still in the bed with him. He felt sweaty, having fallen asleep in his sweatpants. He gets out of bed, and pears through the crack in the door, lightly opening it further. Your towel is wrapped securely around you, and your head is flipped over so you can properly dry the back of your hair. You flip it back over, and for a second Harry sees you in slow motion, like a movie star or something. You don’t notice him in the doorway. Your eyebrows are furrowed as you use your brush to smooth out your hair. Running your hands through, you’re satisfied with how dry you were able to get, and you turn the dryer off. You jump when you see him.

“Jesus, you scared me.” You giggle.

“Sorry ‘bout that, you just looked cute doin’ your hair.” He walks into the bathroom, and kisses you on your cheek. He grabs his tooth brush and brushes his teeth. “Was thinkin’ today before we head to the spa we could walk the property. Get some shots of the trees.”

“That would be great! What time is our appointment?”

“Not til this afternoon, plenty of time.”

You grab a pair of light washed skinny jeans that have a few rips in them, and put them on. Next you decide on a light green sweater. You plug your curling iron in, and put some makeup on while you wait for it to heat up.

“How come you’re doin’ all that?” Harry asks, sliding his black jeans up his legs.

“Well, if you’re gonna take pictures I wanna look nice, just in case I happen to be in one.” You smile at him, beginning to add curls to your ends. “Besides, you’re getting an insider look at my morning routine. Usually you’re dead asleep while I’m doing this.”

“Very true.” Harry puts on a black sweater and his beanie. He slings his camera over his torso.

“Okay, all done.” You slip on your booties, and take his hand. “I heard this place has really good breakfast.”

You settle on a waffle and some eggs for breakfast. Harry had some oatmeal with fruit in it. You both enjoyed a nice cup of coffee before heading outside. The inn sat on fifteen acres of land. Not the biggest, but not the smallest either. There were a ton of trails and paths marked out for people to walk on. The foliage was at its peak, Harry watched you gaze at the different colors on the trees that surrounded you. You hear him snap a photo.

“Harry.” You look at him rolling your eyes.

“You said you wanted your picture taken.” He laughed. “And a candid one is way better than some staged photo.” He gestures for you to look. “See, look at how beautiful you are.” You blush and kiss him on the cheek.

He continues to snap photos of the trees and leaves on your walk. You use your phone to take pictures as well. You take a couple of him while he took pictures of other things. You attempted to take a selfie, but he just took a photo of you instead with his camera.

“I want to be able to post these later.”

“You’ll be able to. I brought my computer so I can load the SD card right in.”

“Lemme take some pictures with your camera.” He takes it off himself and hands it to you. You fidget with some of the controls until everything’s set how you like it. “Go stand over there, the lighting is perfect.” He does as you say. He sticks his hands in his pockets and looks right into the lens. “Jesus, Harry, you look like a model.” You snap a picture. “Now, could you smile for me?” He laughs while his cheeks go red at both of your statements. You snap one while he laughs.

“There’s a timer on that, I could prop it up so we can take a picture together.” He says walking back over to you.

“Or we could take a selfie.”

“But then we won’t get the full effect of the background.” Another couple walks by and sees you two struggle to figure out your photo.

“Would you two like a picture?” The woman asks.

“That would be great.” You go to hand her your phone, but Harry hands her his.

“Mine has a bit of a better camera, love.”

“True.”

You both stand together between two large trees. He hooks an arm around you, and you snake one of your around his back. Your other hand is pressed to his chest. You both smile.

“Okay, ready?” The woman asks. You see her tap the phone a couple of times, and she moves around to get a couple different angles. You both start laughing, which makes for even better pictures. “Alright, that should give you enough variety.” She hands Harry back his phone.

“Thank you so much!” You say as the woman and the man she’s with walk away. “Don’t put that in your pocket, I wanna see how they came out.” Harry rolls his eyes playfully and hands you his phone. “Oh! These are so cute, she did a great job. Oo, I like this one of us laughing. That is going on insta for sure.”

“Insta?” He mimics your accent. You realize now how young you must sound when you say stuff like that.

“Yes, insta. That alright with you?”

“Sure, show me off all you want.” He winks at you.

Between the two of you, you must have taken well over a hundred pictures, but the trails were just too beautiful. You were in awe of Harry, basically watching the master at work. You both go up to your room to change into comfier clothes before your massage date.

“Oh my god!” You say looking at your phone with a big smile. Harry comes out of the bathroom and rushes over to you.

“What?!”

“Sorry, just, Sarah and Niall changed their Facebook statuses!” You practically shove your phone in his face. “That is so exciting!” You love the status and say congratulations with a heart emoji. You realize then that you still hadn’t changed your status. “Maybe tomorrow when I post some pictures I’ll finally change mine. That’ll give people some context of who I’m with.” You smile at him.

“Sure.” He shrugs his shoulders. You had to think back to the date of which he actually asked you to be his girlfriend. It was either the middle or end of September.

“Are you okay with that? I don’t have to post anything to Facebook.”

“Yeah, no, it’s fine. I thought you already changed your status is all, like over a month ago.”

“I haven’t really been on Facebook, or any social media for a while. It just slipped my mind.”

“Oh.”

“That came out wrong. What I meant was-“

“This is exactly why I got off Facebook in the first place. All these little societal rules make things so complicated. I know you’re my girlfriend, but for some reason, I need like everyone to know.” He groans. “I don’t want anyone to think you’re available, (y/n). I could reactivate my account so you could tag me in the post.”

“Harry, you don’t have to do that.” He was sensitive, he tried to hold it back as best he could, but he was your sensitive boy, and his feelings were clearly hurt.

“When we get back from the massage, we can look at all the pictures, and you can pick which ones you want to post, then I’ll airdrop them to you, and I’ll reactivate my account.”

“Why did you deactivate it in the first place?”

“I just thought it was unprofessional, but to be fair I used to post a lot of stupid shit on there. Besides, it could help me grow my freelancing more.” He sighs. “I just don’t want anyone to think they can have you, and I know how possessive that sounds, but it’s how I feel.” You put a hand on his cheek and he leans into it.

“It’s not possessive, I get it. I’m all yours, Harry. No one else’s.” He kisses you tenderly, just for a moment.

“We better get down to the spa. Our massages our first, then our nails.” You perk up.

“I thought we were just getting the massages.”

“I thought this would be a nice treat, it was all part of a package.”

A woman who works at the spa gives you each a robe and some sandals. You’re called into the couple’s room where two women are waiting for you. You told Harry to request that women give the massages because you didn’t like the idea of a man touching you that way that wasn’t him. They give you a moment to disrobe and get onto the massage tables. The music is relaxing and the room smelled like lavender. The second you feel the hot oil hit your body, your muscles immediately relax. It had been ages since you had done so much self-care like this.

The woman kneads into you, and you feel every knot in your back come undone. You just about fall asleep on the comfy bed until you feel hot rocks placed along your spine. They feel incredible, and you can’t help but smile at the fact that Harry asked for this specifically. After a few minutes of that, you’re told to flip onto your back. The woman places a clip in your hair so she doesn’t get it oily while she rubs your neck and shoulders. You feel like you could melt into the table, and only hope that Harry is feeling the same.

The hour is up before you know it. You’re told to both take your time, and to come out when you feel ready. You rub your eyes, and take the clip out of your hair while you slowly sit up. Your eyes grow wide when you look over at Harry. His chest is shiny with oil, he looks over at you and you blush.

“How ya feelin’, love?”

“Mm, really good.” He hands you your robe. You feel wobbly when you get up, and use him for balance.

You both walk out, and are lead to where your pedicures are. Your feet sink into the warm bubbly water, feeling relaxed once again. You pick out a really dark blue for your toes, and tell the woman you’ll decide on your manicure later. Harry picks out a peach color for his toes, and it makes you smile. He holds your hand during the pedicure, rubbing his thumb on you once in a while. You lean your head back and close your eyes. You feel yourself drifting off when he nudges you.

“Babe, time for the manicure.” You yawn and stretch.

“Alright.”

You both walk over to the seats at the manicure tables. You decide on two different colors. You always like the way white nails look, and you decide on the dark blue as well. You take a page out of Harry’s book, and ask to have the colors painted on every other nail. Harry goes for the same peach that’s on his toes and black. He asks to just have his thumbs and forefingers painted black, and the rest peach.

You’re very happy with how your nails came out, and you see that Harry is too. You both go to change back into your clothes, and return the robes and sandals. Harry gives you a piggyback ride back up to your room as you feel too tired to walk. He rests you gently on the bed.

“What time is it?”

“Only four.” He coos, lying next to you.

“Quick nap before dinner? I can barely keep my eyes open.”

“Sure, I’ll set an alarm to wake us in like forty-five minutes.”

“Perfect.”

You fall asleep only a second after. You find yourself dreaming about a forest. You can hear every crunch of every leaf you step on. You walk up to a tent and go inside. You see a beautiful bed only with white blankets and pillows with rose petals all over it. You look in a mirror and find yourself to only be wear a t-shirt, Harry’s t-shirt. He appears suddenly, taking your hand in his. His other hand slips into your panties. You don’t say anything you simply watch as his fingers rub against you. Your chest rises and falls quickly from his touch. Just as he’s about to curl a finger up inside you, you’re jolted awake. The dream fading away.

Harry had woken up about twenty minutes into the nap. He took the opportunity to have some alone time in the bathroom. He chuckled at himself when he saw that you had left a little bottle of pooperie near the toilet. He laid back down next you when he was done, and noticed your face was scrunched up, and your mouth was parted. You were breathing quickly and beads of sweat were starting to form at your brow line. Usually, you slept pretty peacefully. When you started grunting, he figured you were having a bad dream or something, so he shook your shoulder.

Your eyes burst open as you try to catch your breath, you look at Harry who has a concerned look on his face.

“Alright, love?”

“Um, yeah, why?”

“Looked like you were havin’ a bad dream. You were breathin’ heavy and makin’ all this noise.” Your face flushed. You couldn’t tell him you were basically having a sex dream about him. Actually, it’s something he probably would like to hear, but you’re far too embarrassed.

“Oh.”

“What were you dreamin’ about?”

“I, um, can’t remember.” You sit up and run your hands through your hair. “I’m starving.”

“Probably because we forgot to eat lunch.”

“Well, let’s get ready for dinner then.” You smile. You go to the dress you hung up last night, and take it into the bathroom with you.

Harry puts on some khakis and a dress shirt while you slip on your little black dress. He beams at you when you walk out.

“You wore that on our first date.” He gets up and wraps his arms around your waist.

“You remember?” You giggle, knowing he would.

“Course, how could I forget how good you looked?” He gives your bum a little tap. “Let’s head down.” He walks in front of you, and you can’t help but notice how great his butt looks in those khakis. You walk by him quickly, giving him a little pinch, and get into the hallway before he can do anything. “Oi, there’ll be none of that before dinner.”

“Oh, so after dinner I can pinch your butt as much as I want? Good to know.” You wink at him.

The restaurant attached to the inn is breathtaking, you were both thankful you brought nice clothes to wear. Harry pulled your chair out for you like he always did, once you were brought to a table. You each ordered a cocktail, you a vodka-tonic, and him a gin and tonic. Bread was brought over, and you practically attacked it the second you could.

“What do you think you’re gonna get?” He asks you, furrowing his brows at the menu.

“Hmm, I’m not sure yet.” You had a big night planned for him, and you didn’t want to risk anything upsetting your stomach. “Maybe this pasta dish?” You point to it and show him. “Looks like you can get it with black bean noodles if you want.”

“Oh, that looks good, maybe I’ll get that too.”

You each order once the waitress comes back. Midway through the meal, she brings you more drinks, which was perfect because you were starting to feel nervous.

“Love, how ‘bout a dessert tonight?” It was something you rarely did, but since he offered you didn’t want to decline.

“See something you like?” You ask innocently. He gives you a sultry look, and you cough to shake it off. “Oh, look they have a plate of assorted fruits with chocolate drizzled on it.” Normally you would just pig out and get a sundae or a brownie with ice cream, but you figured the dairy would bother you.

“That sounds perfect.” The waitress bring the dessert over quickly, and Harry tells her to just charge the meal to the room. You roll your eyes full well knowing he’s not going to let you pay for anything. “Mm, good choice. Although, I wish I could feed this to you like that other time.” You blush. It’s sweet that he’s been bringing up such nice memories.

You’re absolutely stuffed, you both are. You don’t want to dive into anything with him yet.

“Harry, can we look at the pictures?”

“Sure!” He grabs his laptop once you’re back in your room. You both sit on the small loveseat.

“These are incredible, god you’re so good.” He smiles at you and you press your nose to his for second.

“Lemme see the ones you took on your phone.” You show him a couple. “You have quite the eye yourself. Here, let me airdrop the ones you like to you so you can post them or do whatever you like with them.” You see him open his browser to Facebook.

“Harry, it’s really okay…”

“I want to, plus like I said, it could help with the freelancing.” You watch him log in, your jaw nearly hitting the floor.

“Holy shit, your hair was so long!” He smirks at you.

“Yeah, I grew it out for nearly two years. You like it?”

“Not a lot of people can pull that off, but it suits you. Although, I won’t lie, I love the length you have it at now.” You run a hand through it.

“Me too. Doesn’t get in my way as much when I’m out shootin’. Could ya send me the one you took of me takin’ a picture, I think I’d like to make that my profile picture.” Your heart could burst. You text it to him quick, and he opens his iMessages so you can save it. Before he reactivates it, he goes through his friends list and deletes a whole mess of people. He updates a bunch of his information, and adds a link to his professional Instagram. “There, all cleaned up.” He reactivates the account and sends you a request. You accept immediately.

You create a new album to put all of the wonderful pictures into, and tag him in the ones he’s in. Then you go to change your Facebook status.

“This profile picture is so cute, where were you?”

“Oh! Yikes, I should really change that. It was from my birthday party over the summer. Would it be cheesy to change it to this one of us?” You point to the picture of the one the woman took for you. “The one of us smiling, not the one laughing.”

“I don’t think it’s cheesy at all.”

You change your picture, and then, finally, go to change your status. You back track the date to read September, making him smile. You request him in the post, and he accepts, thus updating both of your statuses. Between adding the pictures, changing your profile picture, and updating your status, you get an influx of notifications. Both Sarah and Rachel leave comments, and you see a liked notification from Kate. Niall leaves a comment as well, just a wink emoji, but it makes you smile. A bunch of people like and comment on your profile picture.

“Sarah and Rachel both just friend requested me.” He looks at you.

“Is that weird for you?”

“Guess not.” He accepts both.

“Shit.” Your siblings liked your status.

“What?”

“My siblings are liking and now commenting, wonderful.” You roll your eyes.

“What’s wrong with them knowin’?”

“Nothing. They just always find a way to treat me like a baby.”

“Well, isn’t that their job as older siblings?”

“Does Gemma ever leave embarrassing comments about having changed your diapers? I had to block my oldest sister from like half of my posts. She’s the reason my insta is private.”

“You got me there, Gem was too close in age with me to help out with diapers.”

“Okay, I am putting this thing on do not disturb before one of them calls me.” You get up and put your phone on the side table next to the bed. You’re feeling less bloated, and very close to him. You grab your bag and go into the bathroom. “Just gonna change into something more comfortable.”

Harry untucks his dress shirt from his khakis. He scrolls through the countless comments on his own Facebook. Many friends happy to see his return to the online world. He had wanted to unzip your dress for you, and watch it fall to your feet, to see what underwear set you might have worn. He didn’t want to push you though. You were having such a nice weekend together.

You take out the nightgown and stare at it. It really was cute with the black lace over the blush pink, and you knew it would hug you tight where you wanted it to. You slip out of your dress, and go into your bag for a black lace pair of cheeky panties. You wanted to be as fresh as possible. You slip the short gown over your head, and adjust your breasts in the lace cups. You could just faintly make out your piercings that you knew he loved so much. It was a little tight around your butt and thighs, but that was the look you were going for. You open the bathroom door as quietly as you can so he won’t notice you. You creep up behind him, and cover his eyes with your hands. He smirks and closes his laptop, setting it on the coffee table.

“What are you doin’?”

“Nothing, just have a little something for you. Can you stand up without opening your eyes for me?”

“Mhm.” He stands up, and lets you guide him to you so he’s facing you. “Can I open now?”

“Yes.”

“Fuck.” He whispers as his eyes pop out of his head. “I mean, wow, no fuck, you look fucking amazing.”

“Really? You like it?” He walks around you to get a good look, and comes back face to face.

“I love it. You got this for me?”

“Mhm.” You nod your head. He moves to touch you, but you back away. His face falls slightly. “I’m still not ready for, well, you know. But, I think I’m ready for these.” You take his hands in yours and kiss his fingers.

Harry is sweating. You look amazing, he can’t figure out where to look afraid he’ll miss even a second of your beauty. What he really wants to do is stick his fingers into your mouth for you to suck on, but he’s not about to scare you off. Instead, he leans in to kiss you. Your drop his hands and put yours right through his hair. His hands travel down to your hips, and his fingers press into you harshly. They travel down to the backs of your thighs so he can pick you up. You wrap your legs around his waist, and he carries you over to the bed. He stands between your legs while you unbutton his shirt. He undoes his buckle and lets his pants drop to the floor. He nearly rips the t-shirt he was wearing off. He takes your face in his hands and sticks his tongue in your mouth. You suck on it and taste the mint from the gum he had chewed after dinner.

You skootch back on the bed, bringing him with you. You feel your head hit the pillow, and his hands go to your breasts while he straddles you. You let out a small moan when his mouth travels to your neck and down to your chest. He takes the piercing in your right breast through his teeth, careful not to tangle it in the lace. He bites down on your nipple, causing you to arch up into him. He looks down at you.

“What is it?” You say, almost in a whisper.

“I can’t decide if I want to leave this on or off. You look so fuckin’ sexy, but I wanna be able to see your body at the same time.”

“Here.” You lift your back a bit, and slide the straps down, bringing your arms through, you tug the top down just a bit, letting your breasts go free. “Meet ya in the middle.” He gazes down at your large breasts, and dips his head back down.

Harry takes as much of your left breast as he can into his mouth. Licking circles around your hard nipple. He sucks on you while kneading its twin. You put an arm over your mouth to help stifle your moans, you were in a hotel after all. He pushes the bottom of your gown up to your hips, revealing your lace panties, leaving a smirk on his face.

“These new too?”

“Maybe.” You take a deep breath, and spread your legs apart for him, only a little. He scoots down a bit to get between your legs.

“(y/n), if at any moment it gets too intense, please tell me to stop. I don’t want you doing something just because you know I want it.”

“I will, Harry. Don’t worry, I want this too.” You say, leaning up on your elbows so you can look at him properly.

Harry starts by pushing your legs a letting farther apart. Next, he brings his thumb to your clit, and rubs you slowly through the lace material. You know you’re already wet, that’s a given any time he sucks on your breasts. He dips his lips down to your right thigh, kissing you closer and closer to your center. He brings his mouth to where you’re dripping, and kisses you through the material while still rubbing you with his thumb. You let out a small groan at his teasing. He stops kissing you, and slides his thumb slowly down to where his lips just were, pressing lightly into your warmth.

“Is this okay, baby?” You nod your head yes. You can feel sweat forming on your forehead. “I need you to use your words.”

“Yes, yes it’s okay.” You muster out.

“I’m going to take these off now, alright?”

“Alright.”

You lift your hips slightly, as he tugs the panties down your legs, tossing them onto the floor. He dips his head back down between your legs. What he does is familiar, and feels amazing. He flattens his tongue against your clit, and drags it up and down slowly, then making circles around it. He starts sucking and nibbling on you.

“That feels so good.” You say through greeted teeth.

He smirks, looking up at you, as his tongue moves down to your folds. He licks you all over, and sticks his tongue inside you. Your hips lift to meet him closer, your hands diving into his curls. His hand moves up to your clit, his thumb rubbing furiously on you as he licks and sucks. You feel hot all over. Is he really going to make you come already?

“Harry, Harry, I’m going to-“ He rubs you even faster. “Shit!” You come undone all over his tongue. Your chest is heaving. You make eye contact with him as he sits up to wipe his mouth. “Wh, why did you?”

“I wanted to make sure you were nice and wet f’me.”

He takes his middle finger into his mouth, and sucks on it. If you had more courage, you would have sucked on it for him. But you were nervous as fuck. This was the first time you were going to let someone up inside you in over a year. You watch him take his finger out of his mouth, and he smiles at you.

“Ready baby?”

“Mhm.”

He leans down to kiss you, taking your bottom lip into house mouth. His lips were swollen from sucking on you. You feel his hand brush over you, and you flinch. He looks at you, but you give him a nod to assure you’re alright. At first, his wet finger just lightly grazes over your slit, moving up and down. This wasn’t so bad.

“Need ya to open up for me a little more.” You take a deep breath, and spread your legs for him. You have a hand on his shoulder, and the other in his hair. His head goes into your neck as he slowly slides his middle finger into you.

At first, you squeeze completely around him, not letting him move. Your breathing is quick and you feel slightly scared at the sensation. He picks his head up a little so he can whisper into your year.

“It’s me baby, just me. I’m not gonna hurt you.” Your grip loosens around him a little as you take a deep breath. “I’m gonna move a little now.”

He slowly brings his finger in and out of you, just to loosen you up a bit. You were ridiculously tight. It was a major turn on for him, but he didn’t want to say it out loud because you were only this tight because you were afraid to let someone in. He wouldn’t be able to get more than one finger in tonight, but he was okay with that. That’s not really what it was about. You felt amazing around his finger, and it was turning him on the way you would loosen and then tighten around him. He continued his slow motions, making you more and more wet. It was starting to feel good the more you relaxed. He curled his finger up in a “comer here” motion inside you, causing you to moan.

“Ohhh my god.” You say arching your back in pleasure.

“M’gonna use my mouth at the same time now.”

“Yup, okay.” Your chest is moving up and down fast. You can’t believe how good this feels.

Harry adjust so his mouth is back down on your clit, his middle finger pumping and out of you. He’s picked up the pace, only a little. The curling motion becoming more apparent. His dick was so hard it was starting to ache, but he tried to ignore it. He just wanted to focus on you, and make you feel good. His tongue made quick flicks up and down on your clit, while his finger pumped faster. You feel your stomach start to tighten.

“Harry, Harry!” You moan his name over and over between gasps. You put your arm back over your mouth and bite down on yourself. Your other hand grasping at his hair, and yanking hard.

The vibrations from Harry’s groans fucking send you.

“I’m gonna ohhhhh ahhhhh…” You come, you come so hard. Harder than he has ever made you come before. Your face and chest is drenched with sweat, and he continues to suck on you and pump slowly while you ride out your high. Your back came fully off the mattress when you arched from the pleasure. Tears started to roll down your cheeks.

Harry slowly takes his finger from you, and sucks it clean. You’re in absolute awe of him. He truly loves the taste of you. You were sweet to him. He looks down and notices your tears. He cups your face in his hands and searches your eyes for answers.

“Shit, are, are you okay? You came pretty hard, I thought it felt good-“ You yank him by the back of his neck and crash your mouth to his, forcing your tongue inside to meet his. You put your hands on his cheeks and pull away.

“That was the greatest orgasm I have ever had.” You say with a scratchy throat. He kisses you again. “Please, take this thing off me.” You lift up so he can pull the gown all the way, revealing your entire naked body. You take his shoulders and pin him to bed, straddling him in the process.

“What, um, what are you doing?” He has woken something up inside you that has been dormant for a long time. You remember how you used to be before. You remember how sexy you used to feel in bed with a guy.

“I’m going to take this.” You say, palming him through his boxers. “And suck you dry.” You feel him twitch in your hand. “You’ve been so good, so patient tonight, letting me feel good first. But now it’s your turn. Gotta get rid of these pesky things first though.”

#take it slow #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles y/n #harry styles smut fi #harry styles fluff fic #harry styles y/n fic #this is so long im sorry #i knew i was gonna cut it before she did him and i was considering breaking this in half #but i didnt wanna make yall wait for this moment

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