#so like I’ve got stuff to look forward to now
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lazysoulwriter · 24 hours ago
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same team. ── ✦
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requested! thank you. ♡ content: protective!Pedro, healthy relationship conflict, argument to resolution
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It starts with something stupid.
He said he didn’t want you going to that party without him. You said he was being controlling. He said he just wanted you safe. You said he didn’t trust you.
And then the voices got louder.
“You always do this,” you snap, arms crossed, pacing across the living room. “You get all weird and intense about stuff and act like I can’t make my own decisions.”
Pedro stands across from you, jaw tight, hands on his hips. He looks tired. Too tired for this. “I’m not trying to control you, I’m trying to protect you. That club is in the middle of nowhere, and you’re going with people you barely know.”
“They’re not strangers, they’re coworkers. I can handle myself.”
“I know that,” he says, voice rising. “But I’ve seen what can happen. I’ve seen people get followed. Cornered. You think I’m being dramatic but—”
“You are being dramatic!”
He throws his hands up. “You’re not even listening to me.”
You laugh bitterly. “Oh, that’s rich. You’re the one who started this whole thing by making it a big deal when all I did was mention a night out.”
“You made plans without even telling me.”
“Because I knew you’d do this!”
And there it is. The silence.
The heavy, hot pause where you both realize nothing productive is coming out of your mouths. That you’re just throwing pain around, hoping it’ll land somewhere that makes the other person get it.
You sink onto the couch. He exhales and rubs the back of his neck.
“I’m gonna go cool off,” he mutters, already heading to the kitchen.
“Fine,” you say, but it doesn’t have any heat. You sound… tired, too.
You don’t talk for twenty minutes.
Just sit in separate rooms, quietly existing around each other.
Eventually, he comes back — slower this time, softer. He kneels in front of you, resting his hand on your knee.
“Can we… try again?”
You nod, eyes a little glassy now.
He sighs. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel like I don’t trust you. I do. With everything. I just—this world’s fucked, and I think about you out there without me and I—” He shakes his head. “It makes me feel helpless. And I hate feeling like that.”
You nod slowly. “I get that. But when you say stuff like ‘I don’t want you going,’ it doesn’t sound like love. It sounds like control. And I know that’s not what you mean, but it feels like you’re parenting me instead of being with me.”
Pedro’s brows furrow, and his voice drops. “That’s the last thing I ever want to do. You’re the strongest person I know. You’ve survived shit I couldn’t dream of. I just… I love you so much it makes me stupid sometimes.”
You smile a little, thumb brushing along his jaw. “Same.”
He leans forward, pressing his forehead to yours. “Next time I worry, I’ll say it better. Ask instead of assume. Deal?”
You nod. “And next time I make plans, I’ll keep you in the loop.”
You kiss him — slow, grateful, like you’re both apologizing and forgiving in the same breath. His arms wrap around you tight, like he needs to feel you breathing against him to calm his own.
“You’re not going tonight, right?” he mumbles, cheek to your shoulder.
You snort. “No. It’s late. I’d rather be here, anyway.”
He smiles into your neck. “Good. I’m still madly in love with you, even when we fight.”
You grin. “Same team?”
“Always.”
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✦ please do not copy, repost, or translate this work. © lazysoulwriter // i write with a lot of love and care, so please respect that
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sc3ptre · 2 days ago
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Hii, I was wondering if I can request a Drew Starkey fic, were the reader and Drew Starkey do Truth or Drink interview together, like how Madelyn Cline and Madison Bailey did, and they’re baicly flirting the whole time and the chemistry is just so good, and yeah. I hope you have a great day!!!
Y/n Y/l/n and Drew Starkey play Truth or Drink
Pairing: Drew Starkey x fem!reader.
Masterlist | Who am i? | REQUESTS ARE OPEN!
A/n: Changed the blog's name a few days ago! Hope you guys stick around 🙂
Genre: suggestive fluff
Warnings: suggestive comments, flirting
Word count: 0.7k
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The rules were simple: ask your partner an uncomfortable question. They either answer it… or take a shot.
You were seated across from Drew with a tiny table between you both, cluttered with cards, shot glasses and just enough alcohol to make bad decisions feel fun.
“Alright,” the interviewer smiled off-camera. “First up, just for the people at home, who are you two and how do you know each other?”
Drew leaned forward, his smile already smug. “I’m Drew… Y/L/N.”
You rolled your eyes, grinning. “And I’m Y/N… Starkey, I guess.”
The crew laughed. Drew looked over at you, eyes gleaming with that familiar mischief. “Y/N, care to answer the question?”
You turned to the camera with a grin. “Before we played enemies on Outer Banks, I actually crashed into his car on the way to the audition.”
“No way,” the interviewer said. “I thought that was a fan-made rumor.”
You both shook your heads. “I wish it was,” you laughed. “But hey…great icebreaker. Also, great way to get someone’s number. Highly recommend.”
“Don’t say that,” Drew groaned, laughing. “Car crash statistics are gonna spike next week.”
You giggled as he reached for the first card. “Alright, Y/N,” he said, holding it up like a threat. “Might wanna fill that glass.”
You groaned, pouring your shot. “Here we go…”
Drew smirked. “What’s something I do that annoys you?”
You paused. “We’ve lived together.”
He added quickly, “With other castmates too.”
Your eyes met his, thankful for the quick assist. “Yeah, during the pandemic. So I know his darkest secrets, like, blackmail worth material,” you teased, looking toward the crew. “Is this PG-13 or…?”
“As clean as you can keep it,” the producer said.
“Right.” You took the shot. The crew erupted with laughter.
“That bad?” Drew asked, amused with his eyes a little wide.
It was a mix of things, really. He used to narrate his scenes in his sleep which was terrifying but quickly became comforting and he also had a habit of singing off-key very early in the morning which made you want to smother him with a pillow but now, it was your favorite kind of concert before breakfast, even better when it was a duet. Then, when you became a couple, it was the moaning while eating food you cooked, the walking around half naked when your A/C broke and the dirty talk he didn’t realize he was doing, muttering “Fuck, you look hot” even when doing mundane things, all things making you horny 24/7.
You gave a coy shrug. “I’ve grown to love it, I swear but some stuff just isn’t for the internet. I’m protecting your legacy, Starkey… even if I do love seeing you in the mornings.”
He smirked. “You love seeing me all the time, admit it.”
“I plead the fifth.” You reached for a card. “Okay. Who would you want to be stranded on a deserted island with?”
Drew didn’t hesitate. “I’d say Chase… but we’d be dead in a day and a half, he doesn’t like to cuddle and he’s mean when he’s hungry.”
You snorted. “He refuses to cuddle?”
“He does, so I’m picking you.”
“Of course.” You grinned. “You ever seen The Blue Lagoon?”
His eyes darkened slightly and he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “That one shot got to your head quick.”
“About time for a remake, don't you think?” you teased. “It’s a classic. Sand, sun, morally confusing tension…”
“Sounds familiar,” he mumbled, eyes locked on yours.
“Yes, it does…let’s see,” You looked away, cheeks hot and grabbed another card but Drew beat you to it. 
“If someone wanted to date me, what would you warn them about?”
You turned toward the camera. “Well… he’s a big guy…he eats a lot.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Eats a lot?”
You smirked. “Like… a starved man, especially certain… things.”
The crew howled with laughter. Drew leaned back in his chair, grinning wide. “What kind of things, Y/n?” he asked innocently.
You made a show of thinking. “Mmmm…tacos?”
More laughter erupted while Drew filled your shot glass and his. “Good save but for that one we’ll drink together.”
“Cheers to tacos,” you said, clinking glasses, both knocking them back in unison.
When the round wrapped up, the producer leaned in. “Final thoughts, what was it like playing Truth or Drink together?”
“Great for me,” Drew said, shooting you a look. “Y/n?”
You giggled, cheeks flushed and eyes warm. “I think we need a ride home but I had a really good time,” you added, looking at Drew with a smile that didn’t need translating.
He smiled back. “Yeah. Me too…in the mood for some tacos?”
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hunieday · 3 days ago
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Momo - Rainbow City Rabbit Chat Part 1
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Part 1 - Part 2 (TBA 30/08/2025)
Please note that I am not a professional translator and I'm only doing this to share the side materials to those who cannot access it, if you notice any mistakes please let me know nicely. Enjoy!
Takanashi Tsumugi: Momo-san, thank you for your hard work! And thank you for your support while we were filming the Rainbow City opening ceremony video!
Takanashi Tsumugi: We’ll be happily conducting an interview for the “Message to My Past and Future Self” video we filmed. Thank you in advance!
Momo: I’ve been waiting for your message, Maneko-chan~~(*´∀`*)ノ
Momo: You had to adjust to fit my schedule and now it’s gotten pretty late, is that okay?! Did you remember to have dinner?
Takanashi Tsumugi: I had a bento box with Banri-san and the staff earlier, so I’m all good! 🍚 
Momo: So you’re still working at the office, huh~? I mean it makes sense since it must super busy right before the opening ceremony
Takanashi Tsumugi: Yes! We’re approaching the opening day soon, so we’re doing our best till the very end to host an exciting live show 🔥
Momo: That’s just like you, you’re so reliable! 😆✨ Please send my regards to Ban-san and the staff too!
Takanashi Tsumugi: Ban-san says, “Momo-kun, thanks for working so hard even this late. I’m looking forward to seeing what kind of interview this turns out to be.”
Momo: Ban-san…!! 😳
Momo: I’ll go all out for this 😤 I’ll answer literally anything from what I had for breakfast today to the stuff I just couldn’t resist buying recently!
Takanashi Tsumugi: Thank you so much! Just to remind you, I’m going to ask you a few questions about the message video we filmed the other day, then publish the interview on the official Rainbow City website.
Takanashi Tsumugi: This time we’d like to capture your comments from your natural selves, so we’re doing it in a rabbit chat interview format. Please feel free to answer casually.
Takanashi Tsumugi: First of all, how did it feel to record a “Message to Your Past Self”?
Momo: It was an interesting idea that we, surprisingly, don’t get to do often! Looking back on the past made me realize how full of Yuki my life has been, and it made me super happy 🥰
Momo: There were nights we survived off bean sprouts for a week, times we went ice-fishing in freezing weather as we shivered from the cold, nights we spent talking until dawn, and even days when I kicked Yuki in my sleep because I’m such a restless sleeper 😳
Momo: Whether it’s embarrassing memories that make me want to scream, or funny ones that still make me laugh with joy, Yuki was always there, and that alone makes all of those moments so precious to me.
Momo: That’s why I want to treasure these ordinary moments even more from now on!
Takanashi Tsumugi: Thank you very much for your answer. With Rainbow City’s opening coming up, I’m sure you’ll be making many more precious memories ✨ 
Momo: Yup yup! (*´∀`)*。 I’m already having a great time with everyone during the preparation period!
Momo: I remembered the first time we met IDOLiSH7 during the shoot and got all nostalgic 😂
Takanashi Tsumugi: That was when you invited us to NEXT Re:vale, wasn’t it? Everyone was able to relax and enjoy recording that episode thanks to how considerate both of you are.
Momo: That’s only because those IDOLiSH7 peeps are such good kids. They’re so adorable you naturally wanna root for them 🫶
Momo: Yuki and I couldn’t stop grinning when we heard them gossiping about us in front of our dressing room, saying things like “I wonder if those guys are actually scary…?” 😆
Momo: They’ve all grown into such reliable people when you compare them to that time 🥹
Takanashi Tsumugi: That’s because Re:vale-san set an extremely cool example for them…! 💪 
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Momo: Waaaaah~~~~ 🫶 You always say such nice things 🫶 In that case, we’ll have to keep showing everyone our cool side for IDOLiSH7’s sake too!
Takanashi Tsumugi: We’ll do our best so we can keep growing too…!
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Takanashi Tsumugi: Now onto the next question! How did it feel to record a “Message to Your Future Self”?
Momo: I got excited thinking about what the future has in store! 😆
Momo: I’m sure that, just like the joy thinking about the past has brought me, the future will continue to be full of happiness! ✨ 
Momo: Or rather, it fired me up to make absolutely sure it’s gonna be that way! 🔥 My cute juniors gave me a little push as well!
Momo: There are things only Re:vale can currently do, and I wanna keep challenging ourselves without forgetting that spirit. We still gotta build the Re:vale Shrine after all 🥳
Takanashi Tsumugi: I do believe you two could actually make it happen…! ✨ Not just the shrine, but you’re the type of people who achieve things no one could even imagine!
Takanashi Tsumugi: I’m sure the fans are also very much looking forward to seeing all the amazing things Re:vale will accomplish in the future!
Momo: Thanks! Those are the exact expectations I want to live up to.
Momo: I want all the fans who’ve kept lighting a fire in Re:vale’s heart to be able to say “I’m so glad I supported them!” and “I want to see even more of this world with Re:vale!”
Momo: We’ll enjoy ourselves to the fullest and create spaces overflowing with smiles.
Momo: How’s that? Ain’t that a pretty cool senior energy? ( ・`ー・´) + serious face
Takanashi Tsumugi: Yes! We’ll keep working hard so we can catch up to you two someday!
Momo: I get kinda embarrassed when you compliment us so honestly lololol
Momo: I’m getting a little flustered so let’s move to the next question please!
Takanashi Tsumugi: Of course! This will be the last question. If you had to express “What Re:vale means to you” in one word, what would it be?
Momo: What Re:vale means to me!? You’re throwing a real bombshell question at the end!
Momo: One word… that’s kinda hard~~~~ 😖 It’s difficult, but…
Momo: “My Everything”! I guess.
Momo: My whole heart, my body, I feel like everything within me exists for Re:vale. Meeting Re:vale stole my heart, made me worry a lot, and I’ve been running forward recklessly ever since.
Momo: I’ve staked everything on Re:vale, and I want to keep staking everything on it, because it’s the most important thing to me. So if I really had to express it in one word, it would be this. “My Everything.”
Takanashi Tsumugi: Your everything…That’s exactly why every performance you two put out is always so rich, so wonderful.
Momo: Honestly it’s super hard to word it correctly. I wish I could’ve said something cooler… 🤔 
Momo: But if I keep digging deeper for a better answer I’ll probably end up saying something way too heavy to use for an interview, so I’ll stop here lololol
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Momo:
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Momo: Wait, you’re gonna ask Yuki the same question too…!?
Momo: I’m super curious about what he’ll say~~~~!!!!
Takanashi Tsumugi: Yes, we’re planning to interview him another day, so please look forward to it!
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deus-ex-mona · 9 months ago
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farewell, my idiot son…
#(aka my switch’s internals got fried so the repair shop had to format it to revive it: the tragicomedy)#(wait no on further inspection they seemed to have just given up on fixing it and gave me a whole other switch instead. lmao.)#(i wonder what happened to my old switch though…)#(farewell to all of my save data… thank heavens i didnt transfer anything over from past gens of pkmn)#(but aaaaaaaaa this shiny goo was a christmas present from a former acquaintance… rip squish you wouldve loved kimikawaii mv)#man… these past couple of days have been a *l o t*.#shoutout to [job recruitment company employee] who sent me a ‘hey the job wants you :)’ message#at the exact same time that i submitted a job application form for another company. it truly was a strange coincidence i think…#but… ehe… the… the job that wants me is offering $1k more than the monthly base salary i asked for… is… is this really ok…?#nothing’s confirmed yet. but. y’know. s t i l l . is it really ok for me to get paid so much for a job that lets me skip the morning commute#and while im still reeling from all of yesterday’s happenings… squish my dear shiny goo will never be seen again…#switch save system my b e l o a t h e d#so. long story short. take good care of your gadgets and gizmos guys.#then again. maybe im not the best person to say this… i mean. i’ve bricked like. 3 personal laptops in my lifetime…#and a phone sim card. and 2-3 nokia phones. and 3 android phones. and a tablet. and—#so. yeah. uh. it’s a good idea to take care of your stuff. especially if they’re fragile.#anyway. in memoriam of squish my idiot son im gonna try to find another shiny in sv this time. i hope i can find another…#but aaaaa the map in sv is pretty huge. um. i got lost like 10 times before even making it to school…#the friends are all just. so. friend-shaped. though… i like the sandwich pal. he has priorities.#looking forward to seeing how this story unfolds thoughh. i saw spoilers on twt but i need to know how the story even unfolds bc aaaa#ok that’s it idol sengen tl is now on an extended hiatus (ch 35 has just 7 pages left to go) till i complete this game. whenever it may be.#see y’all then~~~~~~~~~~~
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exopelagic · 11 months ago
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okay I severely misjudged spaghetti guy he’s actually just really cool
#okay so I came to this flat and he wasn’t here. greeted by a very dirty flat with shit all over the kitchen counters over cling film#I meet first my other flatmate who told me he stays in his room constantly bc of previous bad flatmates#has literally just a saucepan and some salt in the kitchen. so I’m like okay spaghetti guy potentially not great but could just be#how this guy is yknow#on Tuesday I get an email back saying he’s coming back from Norway tonight looking forward to seeing you feel free to use the kitchen sauces#rlly friendly message that I wasn’t expecting. I also didn’t know he’d been on a trip i just knew he wasn’t there bc his door was open#(to a REALLY nice room. multiple rlly nice plants (which he has little care labels for!!!) and it’s tidy and pretty#and he’s got a sheep teddy on the bed)#meanwhile I am in my own head bc I don’t wanna cook in the kitchen until I can clean it and I can’t clean it without moving his shit and#I haven’t seen him yet to talk abt it and I can’t bring myself to talk to him immediately bc I’m dying#and embarrassed as hell by how I’ve been cooking in my room with a microwave and air fryer (loud) and sneaking my shit out of the kitchen#but then yesterday I DO talk to him!! and he’s super friendly!! actually interested in having a conversation and Good at it.#and then he’s cooking and like. spaghetti burns but I’m not there for long and seems to be a mistake (he made the same thing for lunch today#and did Not burn the spaghetti) and is otherwise clearly competent bc the food smells Good and despite leaving a few things out it’s like#washed up stuff isn’t dirty and the sides are better despite still under cling film. more a case that he’s spread out than he’s messy#and now today we talked and i offered to hold onto some shit over summer bc complicated situation that boils down to he’s flying back home#and he cant take all his stuff and had to choose between chucking stuff/having literally nothing this weekend. like sleeping on the sofa etc#and then cleans the whole flat?? which I’m assuming a good chunk is his mess? but he did not need to do that. could’ve easily left#bc there are two people still living here who would’ve had to deal with it and he doesn’t know either at all#and THEN tonight we talk abt food which is fun bc we both ordered stuff. and he offers me some honeydew melon bc he’s been gorging himself#these past two days to finish it before it goes bad/he leaves which is also really sweet#and JUST NOW. I take my headphones out after finishing dinner and hear the sweetest fucking guitar#he plays the gentlest like dreamy sounding acoustic guitar I’ve heard in my life in his room (door closed by the time I leave)#this is actually just a really cool dude#now that the kitchens clear I’m gonna cook tomorrow and will probably offer him some bc otherwise he’s gonna be eating out all weekend#he has extra takeout for tomorrow night but might want smth Sunday#regardless I am just. huh??? left a bit stunned bc of the u turn my opinion of this guy has taken. bc my opinion of him was a reflection#of my discomfort moving to this weird dirty basement flat with two people I didn’t know#well. idk where to go from here. I think I’ll start by talking to him more this weekend. bc holy fucking shit.#luke.txt
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fatelcved · 2 years ago
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my sister got me to finally sit down and watch the o.ne p.iece live action and suffice it to say chiyo’s getting a verse or i’m making an oc at some point
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ashdash2417 · 2 years ago
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I have my own commission sheet thingy saved in my drafts, and it’s been there for literal months, if not a few years…
Dunno how long it’s gonna stay there. :D
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goldensunset · 2 years ago
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i can’t really name an oc after a character from that game
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vers-1 · 1 month ago
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Chat I think imma about to crash out
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em1i2a3 · 2 months ago
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Crying Lightning
Pairing: Bob/Robert Reynolds/The Sentry/The Void x Thunderbolt!Lab Tech!Fem!Reader!
Summary: You have been studying a flower that Bucky brought back from one of his missions. When Bob comes to visit you in the labs to bring you lunch and messes with the unbloomed item you realize the sinister effects of it very quickly.
Warning: 18+ Minors DNI! Ahem…We got a sex pollen fic, so there is smut, and fluff afterwards, and aftercare as well. Reader and Bob are close, and both of them have feelings for one another but it has all gone unspoken…Until now at least lol. There is swearing too.
Smut Warnings: Unprotected P in V Sex (…Y’all know what I’m gonna say. Wrap it up), Fingering, Oral Sex (fem! Receiving), Handjob, There’s a little bit of dominance from Bob/Sentry…And he talks you through it ahhahahahahah (oh god), Messy/Sensual Sex, There are like hints of primal energy sprinkled in here, but nothing too major, there’s mentioning of pheromones and stuff like that, Praise/Worship Kink, Spitting, Dirty Talk, Scratching, Some Choking (not rough), Cum eating, Aftercare.
Author’s Note: Woot Woot! We love a good sex pollen fic lol. Did I expect to be writing one? No. But I’ve always liked the concept and I’m so glad @mccinnamon-bun asked me to do this! Thank you <3, I really loved writing it! So so fun! Enjoy!
Word Count: 15,684
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“I brought you something,” Bucky announced, stepping into your lab just as the doors slid open with their usual quiet hiss.
You didn’t look up right away. Perched cross-legged on the edge of your workbench, you were half-buried in mission reports that were a week overdue, scribbling notes with one hand and nursing a cold cup of coffee in the other. Your head snapped up, however, the second you heard the rustle of fabric and gear–a familiar sound you’d grown used to distinguishing in crowded hallways.
Bucky stood in the entryway, wind-tousled and still in partial tactical gear. The sleeves of his black shirt were pushed up to the elbows, revealing the flex of muscle and dull gleam of vibranium beneath. He had a look in his eye that was hard to read–half sheepish, half pleased with himself–and he was already fishing through one of the many compartments in his bag. He didn’t speak again until he pulled something out with a sort of slow care.
”Ta da.” You raised an eyebrow at him, seeing him pull something from his bag like it was a treasure he’d smuggled across enemy lines. You hopped off the bench with a soft thud and crossed the room toward him, curiosity instantly piqued–mostly because Bucky Barnes was not one to say ‘ta da’. Not unless he was hiding something behind that half-smirk of his.
Your eyes immediately caught sight of what he was holding.
The flower hadn’t bloomed yet, but even in its dormant state, it was breathtaking. The outer petals were tightly furled, each one smooth and iridescent like the type you would find on shells of certain mollusks–but it was shaded in a gradient you couldn’t quite place. They started as an inky, oil-slick blue at the base, then rippled out into smoky violets and blushing wine tones near the tips. Delicate veins shimmered faintly across the surface, catching the lab lights with a strange metallic luster, almost like the petals were dusted in powdered silver.
The stem curved gently, a deep green tinged with gold, and the leaves were narrow, slightly translucent, and lined with fine threads of coppery red. Even when it wasn’t fully bloomed, it had an energy to it. A heat, almost. As if it were responding to the proximity of warm skin and breath. You squinted at it.
”Bucky, if this is your idea of asking me out on a date, you really need to brush up on your courting skills.” He let out a sharp bark of laughter, head dropping forward briefly with a grin.
“Hey,” He said, handing the flower over to you carefully, “You’re the one who told me, if I saw anything weird, unknown, alien, or otherwise ‘botanically suspicious,’ I should bring you back a sample.” You gingerly accepted the stem, trying not to touch the tightly closed bud itself.
”Yeah, I meant specifiers, not some interstellar looking thing.” You shot back. He leaned against a nearby counter.
”Don’t say I never do anything for you.” He commented back. You rolled your eyes, but the smile tugging at your mouth betrayed your fondness.
”You absolutely broke every rule of containment protocol by walking this thing straight into my lab, but…” You gave the top of the flower another slow once-over, still entranced, “Thanks for thinking of me.” You turned, crossing to your bench and plucking a clean beaker from the rack. You filled it with a few inches of distilled water, and set the flower inside, watching it float just enough to stay upright. The petals didn’t open, but they flexed slightly–like they were stretching, or drinking the water you had put the stem in.
”So,” You started, glancing over your shoulder to where Bucky was still leaning, “Where’d you find it?” You asked, watching him give you a small, casual shrug.
”There was a patch of them, right off the tree line. I spotted them on my way back to the quinjet. Figured I’d snatch one up before anyone else trampled it.” You hummed, turning your head away–not noticing the way his gaze lingered on the flower for a beat too long. You were too busy cataloguing the possibilities in your head. It was too vibrant to be terrestrial, but it wasn’t necessarily alien. Possibly hybridized. The energy you felt coming off of it could’ve been psychosomatic–but you weren’t one to write something off without running tests.
“And you’re sure no one else touched them?” You asked, looking back over at him to see if you can spot any of the tells he had when he was lying. His brow lifted toward you.
”I mean…I touched one obviously.” You gave him a pointed look, and he immediately held up both hands.
”Didn’t eat it. Didn’t stick it up my nose. I was the only one that touched anything. Scout’s honor.” You snorted, and shook your head.
”Alright, Barnes…I’ll bite. I’ll run some diagnostics. Spectrograph, chemical composition, basic pollen analysis when it blooms…All the sciencey things that you don’t understand, then I’ll get back to you.” He gave you a mock salute and pushed himself off the table he was leaning against, going toward the door.
”Just make sure you name it after me if it ends up trying to kill you.”
”Noted,” You called, “But if it ends up giving me superpowers instead, I’ll be naming it after myself.” He was still laughing as the door slid shut behind him. You turned back to the flower, now gently swirling in the water–its petals flexing once more, as if hearing your voice. You leaned in just a touch, and breathed in slightly.
You could’ve sworn it hadn’t smelled like anything before, but now…
Now it smelled faintly of summer rain, citrus, and the soft trace of jasmine. It was warm, soft, and inviting, like it was trying to beckon you to come closer to it. You straightened slowly, then reached blindly across the workbench for a spare sheet of scrap paper, grabbing the pen you had tucked behind your ear.
”Initial scent: None. Notable change after water exposure–New profile: humid, citrus notes, floral base (jasmine like). Unsettling–shift occurred in under two minutes.” You tapped the end of your pen lightly against your chin, your gaze never leaving the beaker. The flower was still half-closed, petals fluttering slightly in the water like they were breathing–like they were aware. The surface tension of the liquid shimmered faintly around the base of the stem, as though reacting to something within the plant.
You didn’t like that.
Flowers didn’t just change their chemical profile that fast. Not unless they were highly volatile. Not unless they were engineered.
A muscle tensed along your jaw.
You slid the note aside and moved quickly now, grabbing a glass containment dome from one of the side drawers–a heat-tempered cloche you typically used when running long-term decay tests on bio-samples. It wasn’t hermetically sealed, but it would be enough to contain most airborne particulates.
Just in case.
You placed it gently over the beaker and the flower with practiced care, watching as the edges sealed against the bench with a soft thunk. The scent dimmed immediatel-ybut didn’t vanish. It clung to the air like it had already soaked into the fibers of your clothes, your skin.
You took a step back, and another, suddenly aware of the way the heat of the room felt a degree too warm.
Your eyes narrowed. You made another note.
“Mild thermal increase noted (subjective). Investigate potential volatile compounds. Possible synthetic ancestry. Unknown reaction to water exposure–possible activation trigger?”
You stood still for a moment longer, arms crossed over your chest now, staring at the flower like it might start humming.
Then you exhaled through your nose, gave your head a small shake, and muttered, “Okay, mystery plant. Let’s see what you’re hiding.”
You turned on your heel and crossed to the far side of the lab, grabbing gloves, pipettes, and a test slide. You didn’t see the way the petals quivered beneath the glass dome. Or the way the center of the bud pulsed–slowly, rhythmically–as if something within it had begun to wake.
You were too busy prepping your tools.
You’d get your first sample from the outermost edge of the petal, where a small amount of condensation had begun to form–right where the flower had interacted with the water. It wasn’t much. Just enough to suggest a subtle chemical discharge. A secretion, maybe. Or pollen.
Your gloved fingers hovered just beside the dome.
You paused.
A thought scratched quietly at the back of your mind, the way instincts sometimes do when they’re not fully formed.
You didn’t ignore it.
You stepped back again.
Instead of removing the dome outright, you retrieved your small fume extractor arm—used mostly for soldering–and wheeled it over until its head hovered just above the cloche’s apex. You flicked the switch, and a soft hum filled the room as the extractor began to filter the air directly above the sample.
Another note:
“Smell is still detectable after containment. Strong. Possibly psychoactive. Proceeding with caution.”
Still, despite your wariness, you found yourself walking back toward the glass.
One more glance. Just to be sure.
The flower was still closed–but now its bud looked fuller. Like it had begun to swell. One of the petals had unfurled the tiniest bit. Barely a sliver.
But just enough for you to see a glint of gold pollen resting in the shadows of its center.
It shimmered like dust caught in a sunbeam.
You stared.
And then, carefully, you reached over to your comm unit and tapped the call button for your assistant team over in the biocontainment lab.
“Hey,” You said when the line clicked open, voice low. “I’ve got a…Weird one. Found by Barnes. It’s stable, but I want a second containment unit prepped in case things escalate.”
A pause on the line. Then:
“Escalate how?”
You glanced back at the flower. That scent. That impossible shimmer. You didn’t know yet.
“Just…Prep it,” You replied. “I’ll send over a sample in a few.”
And then you muted the line.
You looked down at the flower one more time.
It was no longer just beautiful.
It was waiting.
———————
It had been three days since Bucky dropped the flower off, and by this time it had bloomed. Not delicately, and certainly not in the way flowers usually did–with gradual graceful predictability. No. This thing had opened like it knew it was being watched and studied by you.
When you came down to your lab the morning after Bucky brought you the mysterious flower, the petals had fully unfurled–broad, sweeping things with a high-gloss sheen and hypnotic gradients that shifted from gold to scarlet to bruise-dark purple depending on the light. The stamen in its center now pulsed visibly, a slow inhale-exhale rhythm that made the entire structure look…Alive. The pollen shimmered every time it moved, a near-invisible cloud that never seemed to settle but floated in still air like it was defying gravity. Or logic.
You had kept it sealed tight under the reinforced cloche, and had the triple-filtered vents on and the entire section of the lab cordoned off with containment protocols. Your notes had doubled in size, and still, nothing definitive had come back from the biocontainment team. There were just vague updates telling you that they were behind on other specimens and that they would get around to it when they could.
So you worked around it. You monitored. You wrote. You catalogued symptoms–your own included, though they were still annoyingly ambiguous: mild temperature spikes, random surges of adrenaline, difficulty concentrating in bursts. But no rash, no lesions, no hallucinations. There was a kind of pressure, similar to urgency but just on the cusp of it, desire maybe–but for what, you had no clue. You had only inhaled a bit of the pollen and hadn’t been exposed since, so you didn’t dwell on it–not with your schedule stacked, and not with your own lab being as backed up as it was.
You were just rinsing a pipette when the door to the lab slid open with a soft hiss.
”H-Hey,” Came the voice you’d come to recognize more easily than your own thoughts lately. You didn’t need to look up to know that it was Bob, but you did anyways, just to catch a glimpse of him.
He was towering and soft-shouldered in a dark grey hoodie with the sleeves shoved up to his elbows, worn sweatpants hugging the curve of his hips, and his crown of light brown hair was in absolute disarray, like he had it tied up and decided to let the locks fall free in front of his face. He looked like someone who didn’t have the slightest clue what he did to people around him, and he truly didn’t know.
The plastic takeout bag in his hand swung gently as he stepped inside, smiling at you like it was the easiest thing in the world.
“Brought y-you lunch.” Your stomach growled at the word lunch, and it echoed through the moment of silence that settled between you, which only made Bob’s grin stretch wider.
”Let me guess,” You started, pulling off your gloves and throwing them into the biohazard bin, “You timed this perfectly because you knew my stomach would start making monstrous noises, didn’t you?”He shrugged, with a small smirk on his face, setting the bag down on your cleared desk near one of your monitors.
”You skipped b-breakfast.” You held out a finger.
”No no…I postponed breakfast.” He shook his head.
”You always p-postpone breakfast,” He said, moving past you to pour you a cup of water from the cooler, his big hands making it look smaller than what it actually was, “And if I d-dont show up with something d-decent by 2 p.m, you would just end up inhaling the vending machine c-crackers and freeze-dried apple s-slices…Which is not s-sustainable i-in the slightest.” You couldn’t help but let out a laugh at his comments.
”Seems like someone has been watching me a bit too closely.” He turned and handed you the water, fingers brushing yours as he didn. His hands were boiling as usual, and it left the paper cup feeling warm from where his fingers had been holding it. His eyes lingered on your face a beat longer than necessary.
”I-I always watch you c-closely,” He said softly, like it slipped out before he could catch it. Immediately his eyes glanced down away from you, dropping to the floor for a second, before flicking away toward the cluttered end of your bench like he suddenly remembered a far more interesting smudge on the tile. His cheeks were red–not just a flush, not just a tinge, but a slow bloom of color climbing from the collar of his hoodie up to the tips of his ears.
You said nothing in response. Not because you didn’t notice–because you did. More because if you said anything, if you so much as looked at him with any kind of expression that acknowledged the truth buried in his voice, he might self-destruct on the spot. So instead, you took a slow sip of the water he handed you, letting the quiet hum of the lab fill the air between the both of you.
Then you turned on your heel toward the takeout bag.
”So what’s on the menu today, Chef Bob?” You asked lightly, pulling the plastic open and peeking inside, “Please tell me it’s not another one of your hot dog stir-fry’s.” He let out a groan.
”Listen…I-It was one time, I-I know nobody was a fan of it.” You grinned as you pulled out a tinfoil-wrapped container, unraveling it with careful fingers. A rich, savoury scent wafted up–soy and sesame and something sweet under it, like cane sugar with more of a freshness that was unexpected, “So what am I looking at?”
”Sticky rice, soy-glazed chicken, uh…” He rubbed the back of his neck, “T-There’s some grated g-granny smith apple in the glaze…C-Cause I didn’t have honey.” You raised your eyebrows.
”Pretty decent alternative.” You replied.
”Yeah,” He said, shoving his hands into his pockets like he wasn’t sure what to do with them, “You know how S-Sentry gets with processed s-sugars in his system. Makes him a-all buzzy.” You let out a soft laugh.
”So this is officially Sentry-approved, then?”
“F-For the most part,” He mumbled, “I-I think you’re the real t-test though.” That made you pause, glancing up at him, still holding the half-unwrapped meal in your hands, finding his gaze had landed on you again. This time it held something quiet but vulnerable. Expectant, even. Like he really cared what you thought.
And that was the difference between Bob and everyone else–you knew he didn’t make things just to impress. He made them because it gave him joy to offer them. He brought you food not because he wanted credit–but because he worried you wouldn’t eat otherwise. He brought you books because he remembered which ones made your eyes light up. He let you take his blood every month without protest, even when the Sentry made his pulse unpredictable or his veins hard to find, because he trusted you with every part of him–even that. And because of those little things, you always made sure to praise him.
Even when he burned the eggs.
Even when the pasta came out overcooked.
Even when the hot dog stir-fry almost gave you heartburn.
You forked a bite of the rice and chicken, chewed, and let your eyes widen a bit as the warmth hit your tongue. “Okay. Wait. This is actually good.”
He blinked, caught between shock and a smile. “Y-you don’t have to lie.”
“I would lie,” You said, pointing at him with your fork. “But not this convincingly. This? Bob. It’s delicious.” He looked like he didn’t quite know what to do with the praise. He rocked back slightly on his heels, running a hand through his already-messy hair, trying to hide the shy little grin that was pulling at the corners of his mouth. You watched the way his fingers threaded through the strands, the way his forearms flexed under the soft stretch of the hoodie.
You took another bite and leaned against the counter beside him, letting out a hum of satisfaction.
“Y’know,” You said between chews, “If Val found out you were secretly good at this, she’d start expecting meals during debriefs.”
”She’d want a report first,” He said, playing along, “T-Then she’d make Walker taste it for poison.” The both of you laughed lightly. The silence that followed was companionable. Safe. You brushed your shoulder lightly against his as you leaned forward to set the food container down beside the monitor.
His body went still at the contact.
Not because he didn’t want it. But because he did. You knew that reaction well by now–the micro-freeze, the way he’d let the warmth of your hand or arm settle into him like he was still learning he could have it. That it was for him.
You let your arm linger against his for just a second longer.
Then you pulled back, slow and easy.
He looked at you from the side of his eye. His voice was low when he spoke.
”H-How’s the flower?” You glanced toward the containment dome instinctively. The petals shimmered under the harsh lab light, colors shifting in slow gradients like they were part of something fluid, something still breathing. It looked even larger today. Full-bodied. Restless.
“Still haven’t heard anything back from the biocontainment lab,” You said, turning back to Bob and picking up your fork again. “Apparently they’re still backed up from the Skrull fungus incident.”
His face pulled slightly. “God…D-Don’t remind me of t-that.” You nodded grimly.
“I won’t…But this?” You took another bite and chewed thoughtfully. “No movement. Just… opened. Big. Loudly. Like it knew I was looking at it.” Bob followed your glance as you continued to speak, “I breathed in a little bit of the pollen when I first got it–just a trace. It made me really warm. Flushed. But otherwise nothing dramatic. No side effects. No changes. So I think it was just my body reacting to whatever compound it’s putting off–probably a weird hybridization. Something experimental maybe.” Bob’s brow furrowed at this comment.
”You s-should’ve been wearing a m-mask.” You huffed a laugh, nudging your shoulder into his again.
”Please, I’m pretty sure I’ve been exposed to worse.”
“S-Sure,” He said quietly, his gaze fixed on you now, “B-But definitely not like this.” There was something layered in his voice—concern wrapped around protectiveness, softened by something you didn’t dare name.
You didn’t say anything to it. Just took another bite of the meal he made, let the flavor distract you from how closely he was watching you now. He shifted beside you, and you knew it was only a matter of time before–
“How’s the Golden God doing, by the way…Totally forgot to ask.” Bob rolled his eyes, “You know you’ve got bloodwork today, and I know how much he looks forward to that.” He grimaced.
”D-Darn…I f-forgot that was today.”
“You always forget,” You mumbled between bites, mockingly stern in tone, “Even though we’ve had the same schedule for, what–eight months?”
“Nine,” He corrected, “You count too?”
“Only because I have to track your blood chemistry, Bob.” He gave you a crooked smile, “Stick around,” You said waving your fork at him, “Let me finish this delicious lunch and I’ll get everything set up.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He gave you a faux salute, backing off to give you space. You watched him for a moment out of the corner of your eye as he wandered slowly around the perimeter of the lab, hands in his pockets, shoulders soft beneath his hoodie.
Bob moved like someone who didn’t want to disturb anything. Not just the tools and data, but you–your space, your rhythm, your day. Even now, when he stopped in front of the containment dome, he didn’t lean close or peer in like most people would’ve. He just stood there, quietly watching.
The flower didn’t move. But the pulsing in its center seemed to slow, slightly. Steadying. As if recognizing something.
Bob tilted his head faintly.
But said nothing.
You finished your lunch in a few final bites, wiped your hands on a cloth, and pulled on a fresh pair of nitrile gloves.
“All right,” You called, walking over to the locked cabinet beside your centrifuge. “Time to sacrifice a little plasma for science.”
Bob grumbled playfully as he headed back toward the stool you always set aside for him during these sessions. “Sentry’s gonna make it d-difficult again. Last time you had to chase the vein for like five minutes.”
“Oh how could I forget,” You said playfully, drawing the phlebotomy kit from the drawer, “I’ve never met a God who’s afraid of needles. He flared your heart rate on purpose and kicked the adrenaline response. Your veins were literally jumping.” Bob winced at the memory and sighed.
”I-I don’t think he m-means to be a jerk a-about it.”
“No, he just is,” You turned with a teasing smile and raised your brow, “You listening in there Sentry, I called you a jerk.” A flicker of gold passed through Bob’s eyes, and his expression shifted just slightly. A pressure just beneath the surface of his calm exterior. You saw the way his jaw flexed. The way his breath caught on the edge of a heartbeat. It was gone just as fast as it appeared. You gestured to the stool.
”Alright, you know the drill.” Bob sighed and tugged his hoodie over his head with one hand, letting it fall across the nearby stool in a heap of worn fabric and static-charged threads.
Your breath caught for just a second–not that you’d ever admit it.
He was wearing a plain white t-shirt underneath. Simple, but it didn’t leave much to the imagination. The fabric clung in all the places that mattered: broad shoulders, a narrow waist, the gentle taper of his torso. His arms were sculpted, the muscle built from the serum and his own training he did on the side with Walker–solid biceps veined faintly beneath pale skin, his forearms thick and freckled with golden hairs. Even through the shirt, you could see the subtle rise of his chest when he breathed. His body wasn’t exaggerated or showy like some of the other enhanced agents. Bob’s strength was honest, clean and quiet. The kind that didn’t beg to be seen–just was. He sat on the stool, leaned slightly forward, and offered you his right arm without hesitation–palm up, wrist relaxed, fingers curling just slightly where they hung over the edge of your tray. As always, he was warm. Always a degree or two above everyone else. Like the Sentry lived just beneath the surface, pulsing against the skin.
You pulled your chair close and gently cradled his arm in one gloved hand, “You good?” He nodded, jaw ticking faintly.
”Sentry’s a-already getting stirred u-up.”
“I figured,” You murmured, swabbing the crook of his elbow with an alcohol pad, watching the way the fine blond hairs on his arm caught the light, “You twitched when I called him a jerk.” Bob exhaled a shallow breath, half-laugh, half-wince.
”Y-Yeah he–uh–didn’t like t-that.”
“Well, tell him to behave,” you said, voice softening as you spoke, instinctively adjusting your tone. You’d found, over time, that it wasn’t just what you said–but how. The Sentry didn’t respond well to authority. But he did respond to calm. To care. To you.
“I’m going to insert the needle now, okay?”
“Y-Yeah,” He said quietly, “Keep talking through the process, t-that would help.” You gave him a smile–genuine and soft.
“All right…Just a little pressure here…” You slipped the butterfly needle in with smooth, practiced hands, watching the dark blood flood into the first vial like a ribbon of garnet. He didn’t flinch. His fingers curled just slightly, but that was it. You could feel the tension in him, though–not fear, not even discomfort, really.
Just a heightened presence.
You always felt it when the Sentry was nearby. Like a third set of lungs had begun breathing somewhere in the room. Like the molecules in the air shifted their charge.
“I’m taking five tubes,” You said gently. “You’re doing fine. Your blood flow is nice and steady today.”
“Y-Yeah,” Bob said, watching you with his head slightly turned. His voice had dropped to something deeper. Thicker. “That’s because o-of you.”
You glanced up.
He blinked, quickly. “Your voice. It…I-It helps.” You kept working, carefully switching out the first full tube for the second, then the third, eyes flicking to him only briefly.
“I’ll take that as a compliment. Or a cosmic honor. One of the two.” That got a smile out of him, even if it was small. The rest of the draw passed in familiar quiet–soft beeping from your equipment, the slow, gentle swirl of the containment fans, the hum of the overhead lights. His blood was warm in your hands. You didn’t realize you were holding your breath until you reached the fifth tube and carefully capped it.
You retracted the needle in one smooth motion, placing it in the sharps container before gently pressing a cotton ball to the puncture site.
“Pressure here, please.”
Bob complied, two fingers resting lightly over the spot. You retrieved a bandage, peeled it open, and pressed it into place over the cotton. Your hand lingered a second longer than it needed to. His skin was flushed warm beneath your glove. He smelled faintly of cedar and limes, probably from his shampoo. Then you leaned back in your chair and gave him a mock-serious look.
“So,” You said, cocking your head, “Does Sentry want a lollipop for his troubles?”Bob groaned, dragging a hand down his face.
“D-Don’t get him riled up…” You laughed at the way his cheeks turned rosy again, as he attempted to hold back a smile, which failed.
”You sure?” You teased, “You don’t want me to pull out the glittery sticker chart?”
“W-We talked about this…He remembers t-things like that.” You both burst into soft laughter again, the kind that curled at the edges of your ribs and left everything just a little lighter.
And somewhere behind you, the flower twitched.
The petals shifted.
The pulse in its center matched his heartbeat.
But neither of you noticed.
——————
The next day, just after 2:00 p.m., the soft hiss of the lab doors made your head snap up again.
You were halfway through a long-winded notation on the flower’s latest chromatographic analysis when you heard the now-familiar rustle of footsteps and the unmistakable creak of someone cradling a takeout bag with too much care.
“Brought you lunch!” Bob announced.
He looked warm again–an oversized hoodie only blue this time, the same worn sweatpants from yesterday, and hair pulled back messily like he’d tied it in a rush. His free hand shoved deep into his pocket, but the other held a paper bag from a café you liked downtown. He wore the same small, crooked smile that made it difficult to think straight.
“Careful,” You warned playfully, turning in your seat to face him, “If you keep feeding me, I’ll start to expect this kind of treatment.”
Bob shrugged, walking in slow, casual steps toward your workstation. “M-might be worth it…Just to s-see you eat.”
You smiled at that–too caught up in the rare softness between you to notice the way the flower behind its containment dome had begun to stir.
Not much. Just a twitch of its outermost petals. A subtle change in the shimmer of its stamen. But you were facing Bob. You didn’t see the way it reacted to his voice.
“I-I got you the g-grain bowl you like. The one with roasted squash, the f-feta, that spicy vinaigrette you always try to recreate in your lab notebook–”
“I do not take vinaigrette notes in here,” You interjected, grinning.
Bob set the bag down gently on the corner of your cleared space shaking his head at you, glancing over at the dome just as the hum of your equipment shifted slightly. The air changed. Subtle, at first. Like something pressurizing behind glass.
He leaned over–only just–peering closer at the flower inside.
That was all it took.
The dome fogged instantly with a pale gold haze. Then–without warning–the containment glass shuddered with a sharp, pinging sound, like internal pressure had snapped a seal.
Then it ruptured.
The top of the cloche blew off with a muted pop, and a cloud of glittering golden dust erupted from the flower in a slow-motion burst. It expanded like fog, like breath in cold air–drifting, floating–straight into Bob’s face.
You froze for half a second. Then your instincts kicked in hard and fast.
“Shit—Bob!” You yelled, already leaping from your stool and hitting the emergency switch on the wall.
Red lights flashed as the isolation protocols kicked in. Vents slammed shut with a metallic clank, and the air filtration units hummed to life. Your console blinked through a security override as the lab sealed itself airtight. Your heart thudded in your chest like a drumbeat.
Bob had staggered back, coughing hard and pawing at his face, blinking rapidly. The golden dust coated his cheeks, his lashes, the curve of his nose, and clung to his stubble like cosmic pollen. It shimmered with a strange, otherworldly sheen–like it was alive, almost.
“Hey–hey–Bob, come here.” You grabbed him gently but firmly by the wrist, leading him toward the decontamination corner. “Don’t rub your eyes. Just come with me. You’re okay, just–just keep breathing.”
He nodded, still coughing, blinking fast. “I-it got in m-my face–feels like sand, b-but–s-sticky, maybe–” He stumbled slightly as you pushed the lever on the eyewash station.
“Lean in,” You ordered, voice steady. “Both hands on the sides. I’m gonna guide you.” You pressed the large silver button. The twin streams of water erupted instantly, and he hissed through clenched teeth as the cold hit. You steadied him, one hand braced on his lower back as he tilted forward.
”Keep blinking,” You instructed, “Get it flushed out. It’s probably just pollen but I can’t take chances, we still don’t know what that stuff is.”
“It’s–f-fine,” he said, spitting water out, breath hitching. “It doesn’t b-burn, just f-feels weird–” His voice was strained, breathless. You didn’t like the way his skin had started to pink at the edges, how the golden dust had clung even beneath his collar.
When the two-minute flush was over, you helped him lean back slowly, grabbing a towel from the stack nearby and pressing it gently to his face.
“We’re not done yet,” You said, pulling a second towel out and pressing it to the back of his neck. “Blow your nose. Three times. Then cough hard. I want that stuff out of your lungs if you inhaled any of it.”
He obeyed without protest, still coughing lightly between ragged breaths. The dust had left faint shimmer marks down the front of his hoodie, now slightly wet from the eyewash station. You reached over to the wall unit, flipped on the emergency fan array, and turned your console back toward manual override. The air slowly began to cycle through a localized carbon scrubbing system.
You turned back to him, grabbing a disposable cloth and wiping under his jaw, where a little gold still shimmered. His eyes were red-rimmed but clear. Breathing shallow, but not distressed.
You stepped back, hands braced on your hips, the overhead scrubbers humming louder now as the first cycle of filtered air began to push through the sealed lab.
Bob sat perched on the deacon bench, towel still clutched in his hands, his lashes dripping, cheeks damp, and glittered with flecks of gold the eyewash hadn’t quite cleared. He looked flushed–not sick, not distressed–just… warm. Lit from within, like something in him was beginning to glow. But you didn’t let yourself think about that.
Not yet.
“Are you okay?” You asked quietly, kneeling slightly so you were more at eye level with him, voice softening as you scanned his face for any irregularities. “Are you dizzy? Lightheaded? Anything weird?”
Bob blinked slowly, the water still dripping off the tips of his hair as he met your gaze.
“N-No…” He murmured, voice rough with lingering grit, “Just…Feel kinda like I s-snorted fairy dust.” He gave a weak little smile. “M-might be glowing in the dark now.”
You rolled your eyes and let out a half-relieved breath, giving him a playful–but firm–swat to the arm.
“This isn’t funny. You know we have to be in isolation for twenty-four hours now, right?”
Bob groaned, slumping back slightly against the bench. “Ugh. Great. Cool. L-love that.” You crossed your arms.
“We’re both trapped in here. With no way out. The lab is in full lockdown. Airlocked. Everything. Biocontainment protocol 9A.” He sighed, tilting his head toward you dramatically. “
It’s not like we don’t already spend the majority of our free time together or anything.” You narrowed your eyes.
“Don’t act like this is some cozy movie night. You almost got yourself pollinated into another dimension.” Your voice was softer now. More affectionate, more playful. Your gaze dropped briefly–to the faint shimmer still clinging to the edge of his collarbone–and that’s when you noticed it.
You looked down at yourself.
Tiny flecks of gold sparkled faintly across your sleeves, dusted across the dark wool of your sweater and even the collar of your lab coat. The stuff was finer than you thought–so fine you’d barely felt it settle.
“Shit.”
“What?” Bob asked, alarmed.
You pulled your lab coat off immediately, shrugging out of it and tossing it into the nearest biohazard bin. Your sweater followed next, leaving you in the tank top you had underneath–thin, breathable, already damp with nervous sweat. The cold air bit at your arms, but it was better than risking more exposure. You grabbed a clean disposable mask from the supply drawer and tugged it on.
“You got exposed?” Bob asked, sitting up straighter.
You gave him a wry look as you reached for a pair of gloves. “You think that cloud only wanted you?”
He flushed again and shifted where he sat. “S-Sorry…”
“Not your fault,” you said quickly. “You didn’t provoke it.”
Bob’s eyes slid to the corner of the lab where the flower still sat in its shattered dome, motionless now, but unmistakably altered–its petals twitching like cooling muscles, the last of the pollen still floating down like it hadn’t quite obeyed gravity yet.
You pointed to his hoodie.
“That’s gotta come off too.”
He blinked. “W-What?”
“Bob. Your hoodie is covered. You’re basically wearing a glitter bomb.”
“Oh…Right.” He looked down at himself and, reluctantly, peeled the hoodie off over his head, careful not to shake loose any more of the clinging dust. The fabric crackled softly as the static gave way. You moved forward with a biohazard bag already open and waiting.
“Drop it in,” you said, and he obeyed, his white T-shirt riding up slightly with the movement. You caught a glimpse of pale skin, faint golden freckles across his lower ribs, the subtle cut of his hip. You averted your eyes quickly, pretending not to notice.
But he noticed.
You didn’t speak for a beat.
Then:
“Okay,” you said, stepping back with the sealed bag in hand, “Contaminated clothing secured. Isolation timer has started. We’ve got twenty-four hours to kill and a potentially sentient flower that just gas-bombed the strongest man on Earth.”
Bob blinked at you, then gave the tiniest smirk.
“Th-this gonna be in the report?”
“Oh, absolutely,” You muttered, deadpan. “‘Subject A leaned into mysterious glowing flower. Subject B now has fairy glitter in her bra.’”
He laughed. Harder than you expected. The sound echoed softly in the sealed room and you let it hang there for a moment. Eventually his laughter faded, but the heat that was beginning to build in the lab didn’t.
It wasn’t just the tension between you anymore–it was physical. Palpable. You could feel it crawling along the inside of your spine like static. Your skin felt…Tight. Like your clothes were holding in too much warmth. Like the fabric of your tank top was suddenly too heavy in all the wrong places and far too light in others.
You shifted your weight from one leg to the other, hoping it would pass, but it didn’t.
Bob was still sitting on the bench, towel now draped loosely across his lap, chest rising and falling more steadily than before–but even from a few feet away, you could see the faint shine of sweat beginning to gather at the hollow of his throat.
You squinted slightly.
“Is it just me,” You said slowly, brushing a strand of hair off your neck, “Or is it…Hot in here?”
Bob lifted his head toward you, blinking slowly. His cheeks were still pink–flushed in that way people only got when they were either just out of a fever or just getting into something much more compromising.
“I-I thought it was just me,” He said, adjusting how he sat. “I figured the air filters w-weren’t moving much cool air yet. It’s… It’s an enclosed space, so…” He trailed off, eyes catching briefly on your arms, the exposed slope of your collarbone, and then darting away again, as if ashamed of the glance.
You nodded, trying to focus–but it was getting harder. Your tank top clung to the skin beneath your ribs like a second layer of sweat-dampened silk. You could feel the heat collecting at your lower back, a slow, stoked furnace of warmth that wasn’t just the room. Your breathing shifted slightly. Shallower.
There was a kind of pressure building behind your sternum. An ache–not painful, not sharp. Just…Present. Gnawing. Low in your belly. You cleared your throat.
“Do you feel weird?” You asked, keeping your voice as casual as you could. “Like… more than just warm? Any lightheadedness? Sensory changes?” Bob didn’t answer right away. His shoulders rolled back slowly, and his hand came up to drag across the back of his neck. You watched the way his palm moved over the sweat-damp strands of hair, the tension in his forearm, the way his biceps flexed just slightly under the tight stretch of cotton.
He wasn’t looking at you now. But his voice was quiet when he answered.
“M-My heart rate i-is up,” He admitted. “But I d-don’t feel sick. I just feel–” He stopped. Swallowed. Then: “Wound up. I-it’s like I’ve been waiting for something to happen and m-my body’s just trying to stay ahead of it.” You stared at him, hearing as he listed out the same symptoms you were feeling.
Then there was the ache again–twisting low and slow, enough to make you shift your thighs closer together without thinking. You noticed the way Bob’s eyes tracked the motion and immediately flicked away. His chest was rising faster now. His jaw clenched, breath audible through his nose. Something was happening. Something chemical, something hormonal. Something Induced.
You took a slow breath, then glanced at the ruined containment dome, the flower sitting quietly like nothing had happened. Its stamen pulsed gently, and the last wisps of pollen still hovered in the filtered air like gold-lit ghosts.
”You said it didn’t burn when the pollen hit…” You murmured, “Just felt weird…Right?” He nodded slowly, eyes flicking toward your face, then to your mouth, then away. You swallowed hard, wiping a bead of sweat off your forehead. ”How weird?”
Bob exhaled a shaky breath. His hands flexed against his thighs, fingers twitching.
“It just felt really…Light,” he rasped. “Like ash. N-Not like sand–softer. Barely even there. But now–” He trailed off, and when he looked at you, it was like being seen for the first time. His pupils were blown wide, only a thin ring of ocean-blue clinging to the edge. His voice lowered.
“Now I feel like my skin is on fire. L-Like I’m burning…And everything’s so damn sensitive. I c-can’t stop–” His voice cracked, “–I can’t stop looking at you.” Your breath caught. The ache between your legs deepened sharply, twisting upward through your belly like someone had plucked a string that now hummed through your bones. The realization slammed into you with full force. The heat. The ache. The scent. The shimmer. The reaction.
Fuck. You staggered backward from the bench slightly and slapped your hand down on the comm panel by the edge of your lab table, hitting the line for Bucky.
“Come on, come on, pick up–”
“Yeah?” Bucky’s voice crackled over the line. “What’s up?”
“Bucky,” You said, trying to steady your breathing. “Where exactly were you when you found that flower? Be specific. What were the surroundings?”
“I told you, it was near the tree line,” He answered, confused. “On the way back from the ridge. Why?”
“Was there anything else? Anything that stood out?”
There was a pause. Then, “Uh…There was kind of a–garden? Like, a bunch of them. Just a whole patch. Maybe fifty or sixty, I dunno, they were all clumped together.”Another pulse of heat ripped through your core, and you clenched your thighs, biting back a soft, involuntary groan. You half-collapsed, catching yourself on the table edge before sliding down the side of it, pressing your forehead into your forearm.
“Where were they, Bucky?” You grit out through clenched teeth. “Was there a lab? A compound? A goddamn marker on the ground–anything?”
“What? Y/N, I don’t–wait, there was a lab…But it wasn’t even close. Maybe two miles east of it. Looked abandoned. You think it’s connected?”
“Jesus Christ,” you muttered, voice rough, stomach clenching. Your vision was starting to blur around the edges. “That’s not wild growth, Buck. That’s a planted field. That was cultivated. You brought me a fucking bioweapon.”
There was silence.
Bob had shifted, and when you looked up, he was no longer on the bench. He had crouched behind one of the heavy lab tables on the far end of the room, head bowed, palms braced hard against the floor like he was praying—or like he was trying to hold himself together.
“I-it’s getting worse,” he called out, voice hoarse and echoing faintly off the tile. “I—I can feel it in my hands, my back—like I’m buzzing from the inside out. You need to go to another room, Y/N. Please. I don’t—I don’t know what’s going to happen—”
“There is no other room,” you snapped, clutching your own torso, fingers digging into your tank top like it could peel the sensation off your skin. “We’re sealed in. Remember? Isolation. Twenty-four hours.”
You turned back to the comm, swallowing back the pulse building low in your belly. “Bucky, something happened in that lab. This isn’t just a flower. It’s engineered—enhanced. There’s pheromone manipulation in the pollen. Maybe synthetic hormones. We both got exposed.”
“What kind of exposure?”
You hesitated.
Then you exhaled shakily, voice lowering. “The worst kind. I think it’s… I think it’s sex pollen, Bucky.”
A beat of stunned silence on the other end. Then:
“…You’re shitting me.”
“I wish I was,” you hissed, grinding the heel of your hand into your temple, heart pounding. “And unless I get a suppressant cocktail in the next thirty minutes, I’m going to lose it.”
“What about Bob?”
You turned your head just slightly toward where Bob was crouched, shaking. His knuckles had gone white.
“He’s already losing it,” You whispered.
“What do you need me to do?”
“Nothing,” you said, too fast. “Just…We’re locked in for twenty-four hours. There’s nothing anyone can do. Just… Just keep the others out. Don’t let anyone near the door.”
There was a long pause. Then Bucky’s voice dropped.
“Y/N. What exactly happened in there?”
You clenched your jaw and gave the only answer you could.
“I’ll tell you if we survive it.” Then you hung up the comm, bracing your hands on your knees as the ache spread like wildfire across your thighs, your chest, the hollow between your hips. Everything was overstimulated–fabric too rough, air too dry, skin too tight.
And then there was Bob.
You looked up slowly, panting now, vision swimming with heat and color. You could barely see his face in the shadow of the bench, but you heard his voice.
“I-It’s in me,” he said quietly. “Whatever it is. I can feel it in m-my blood. My skin feels like it’s too small. I’m–I’m shaking. I c-can’t stop it.” His breath hitched, voice breaking apart. “I can smell you. I c-can hear your heart. I can feel every molecule in this goddamn r-room. God, what is this stuff?” You were already dragging yourself across the floor, crawling on hands and knees to the nearest storage cabinet, yanking open drawers for anything–anything–that might help regulate internal chemistry. You were half-crazed with heat, sweat dripping between your shoulder blades, your whole body lit up like it had been set on fire from the inside.
“Okay,” you muttered, teeth clenched. “We’re gonna–we’re gonna figure this out. Just don’t come near me, Bob. Not yet.”
You couldn’t see him now, but you heard the thick, wet swallow from where he hid behind the bench.
“I w-won’t,” He rasped. “But…If you don’t figure it out soon…” His voice was barely audible now. “…I d-don’t know if I’m gonna b-be able to stop myself.” The words weren’t loud. They weren’t cruel. But they hit you like a blow to the chest. A sharp pulse rippled through your core–your muscles tensed like a wire had snapped in your belly. The ache between your legs twisted again, hot and hungry, and a broken sound escaped your lips before you could stop it.
A whimper. Soft, shaken, and needy.
”Shut up,” You gasped, your voice hoarse with panic and arousal, hand bracing against the cabinet, “Just…Stop talking, Bob please…Your voice. Fuck sake.” Another wave of heat surged under your skin like a current of electricity. You curled slightly into yourself, arms trembling, every breath catching high in your throat.
“I–I’m sorry,” Bob groaned from across the room, his voice cracking with guilt and something far darker. You heard him shift, heard the thump of his back hit the cabinet behind him like he’d braced himself against it, like he couldn’t trust his limbs to obey. He let out a loud breath, shuddering.
”G-God, I’m–I’m sorry, I c-can’t even think straight–“ His voice broke on the last word, thick with restraint. You dragged open another drawer with shaking fingers, rummaging through cold metal and sterile pouches, tossing one after the other to the side. Glucose packs. Emergency syringes. No suppressants. No hormonal regulators. Nothing for this kind of exposure.
Your vision blurred as your stomach clenched again. You could feel sweat beading at the base of your spine, making your tank top stick like a second skin. You couldn’t stop panting. Couldn’t stop trembling.
”Fuck…” You hissed, almost on the brink of sob. You slammed the drawer shut with a metallic clang, the sound too loud, echoing in the sealed lab like it was mocking you. ”I can’t–I-I can’t find anything.” You wheezed, voice cracking. You braced your hands on the cold tile, heart pounding so hard you could feel it in your teeth.
The need was crawling over your skin like insects. Every breath was friction. Every shift of your body felt like dragging yourself through static. Your nipples were tight beneath your tank top, aching. You could feel your own pulse in places it didn’t belong.
“Shit–shit,” You whispered, eyes welling with frustrated tears. “Oh my god.”
Behind the bench, Bob made a low, strangled noise.
A grunt. Guttural. Desperate.
You couldn’t see him.
But you didn’t need to.
Because you could feel him.
You could feel the way the air changed when he moved. You could feel the ripple of heat that seemed to follow the sound of his voice. And worst of all–you could feel your body answering it.
Every cell in you was lit up with something heavy and humming. Something wild. Something designed.
You curled forward against the floor, pressing your forehead into your arm. You were panting now–wheezing, almos-trying to hold on. Trying not to cry.
You didn’t hear him crawl over, not until it was too late. Your breath was ragged, and your vision was swimming–and then warmth touched your arm. A large hand. Familiar. It closed over your bicep–but it lit your nerves on fire. You jerked away violently, scrambling back on instinct, collapsing onto your ass with a gasp. Your palm slammed against the tile and you skidded slightly, breath hitching as you spat out–
“Don’t touch me!” Your voice cracked, sharp and wet with panic. The motion made your spine arch, your tank top riding up slightly as your hip knocked into a rolling stool, the metal clattering away. Bob’s eyes widened in horror, hand halfway outstretched like it had betrayed him. He dropped to both knees in front of you instantly, not touching, but close enough for you to feel the warmth coming off his body like a wave.
“Y/N–” He breathed, his voice hoarse, chest heaving, “Y/N I-I feel it too, I p-promise. I feel everyth-ing” His hand hovered near your shoulder again, hesitant. Then, slowly, gently, he reached behind your neck, cradling it with a trembling touch. His fingers were hot against your skin, too hot. “Look at me. W-We’ll be okay. We’ll be o-okay.” You shook your head, lip quivering as the tears came faster now. Not the kind you could hide or blink away–these ones slid heavy and helpless down your cheeks, pooling at the corners of your mouth. You were trembling all over, shoulders shaking, thighs clenching without relief.
”I-I feel like I’m dying,” You whispered, voice raw, “Fuck, Bob it’s so painful.” He nodded once, his face contorting with shared agony, as his hand slipped from the back of your neck to your jaw, like he couldn’t decide whether to hold you or let go.
“I-I know,” He rasped, his other hand gripping his thigh so hard it shook, “I-I’m burning from the inside out. I can smell y-you…I can s-smell everything–“ You swallowed, chest rising in short, hard jerks. Because so could you.
His scent was all over the room now. Thick and devastating. It rolled over you in waves—heat-warmed cedarwood, sweat, and something deeper. Instinctual. Masculine. Not cologne. Not soap. Something completely and totally him. A biological beckoning, chemical and holy and blinding.
It made your thighs twitch and your breath break.
And your own scent…You could smell it, too. Like heat-glazed citrus and clean skin. Something golden and heavy, threaded with notes of sun-warmed vanilla and fresh-cut stems. Like the wild edge of spring. It filled your nostrils, clung to your skin, hung in the air between you like a dare.
Bob’s eyes fluttered, jaw clenching again. He let out a low grunt, like the effort of staying still was costing him something visceral. His voice cracked as he spoke.
“I-Isn’t there…a-any way we can stop this f-from getting worse?” You didn’t want to say it, you really didn’t. But the truth came out anyway, scraped and raw from your throat.
”Only if…” You swallowed. Your tongue felt too thick in your mouth, “Only if we have sex…” The words dropped like a stone.
Bob’s breath hitched so hard it almost sounded like a choke. His throat bobbed, and he blinked down at you, eyes wild and dilated, dark lashes damp with sweat and desperation.
There was a pause–long and shaking.
Then, softly:
“W-Would it be t-that bad if…If we did?”
You flinched. Just barely. The air stilled, vibrating between you. And then you shook your head slowly, tears welling again–not from heat this time, but from something deeper.
“I really didn’t want our first time together being l-like this.”
That stopped him cold. All the breath punched out of him in a single exhale. His lips parted, but nothing came out. His hand fell away from your jaw like it had been burned. His whole posture shifted–still close, but paralyzed with guilt.
You looked away.
Because if you looked at him now–if you looked into that face, flushed and desperate and filled with longing–you’d give in. Your breath hitched sharply—twice—before you folded forward on a gasp, one hand clutching your lower stomach like it might soothe the throbbing pulse building between your legs.
“God,” you choked out, voice breaking. “Oh my god, I—I can’t fucking take it.”
The ache had bloomed into something unbearable—wet and slick and throbbing through your core with every heartbeat. You were drenched, panties stuck to you, heat radiating off your skin like you were about to combust. Across from you, Bob made a strangled sound, his fists tight on his thighs, chest heaving as he forced shallow breaths through his nose—like if he didn’t, he might do something reckless.
“I c-can’t smell you,” He whispered, more to himself than to you. “I–I can’t smell you–I can’t–”
But he could. You both could. Your scent was everywhere–sweet and sharp and thick with want. It hung in the air between you like perfume, like bait, and you knew it was driving him mad.
You twitched again as another rush of slick gushed between your thighs and a broken moan slipped past your lips–soft, needy, involuntary. Your eyes squeezed shut as your hand pressed harder against your stomach, trying to contain it.
But it was useless.
“I can’t–fuck, I can’t take it–” You gasped, and before you could stop yourself, you were lunging forward.
You grabbed his face with both hands–hot, flushed skin beneath your palms–and crushed your mouth to his like it was the only thing keeping you alive.
It wasn’t a kiss.
It was a collision.
A mess of lips and teeth and spit.
You moaned into his mouth the second you felt him gasp beneath you–his lips parting wide in helpless surrender, his hands flying to your waist like magnets. The second he touched you, it was over. You melted into him, mouths sliding and sucking and devouring with sloppy, panting need.
Spit slicked your chin, his chin, your mouths, your skin. It dripped down between you as your lips broke and reconnected over and over in increasingly desperate, wet smacks. His tongue slid against yours, hungry and hot, and you whimpered into the kiss like your whole body was unraveling.
His hands squeezed your hips, hard–fingertips digging in, dragging you toward him roughly until your knees bumped his thighs and your chest hit his. You felt the tremble in him, felt the heat pouring off his body as he let out a low, feral grunt into your mouth, like he was trying to hold himself together and failing.
You pulled back just an inch, breath catching in your throat as a strand of spit still connected your lips, both of you panting so hard it echoed in the sealed lab.
“Fuck–” He gasped, chasing your mouth again, not even giving you time to respond before crashing back into the kiss, even hungrier this time. “You taste like–God–l-like sunlight–like h-honey–fuck, I can’t–can’t stop–”
“Don’t,” You moaned, sliding your tongue into his mouth again, letting it tangle with his, swallowing his sounds, his heat, his everything. “Don’t stop. Please. Don’t stop.” Your fingers tangled in his hair, yanking at the damp curls as his hands roamed, gripping your waist so tightly it made you whine. He guided you into his lap without thinking, until your knees straddled his thighs and your body pressed flush to his. You could feel everything–the twitch of his erection beneath the thin fabric of his sweatpants, the way his breath hitched when your hips brushed his, the way his hands couldn’t stop moving–gripping, sliding, needing. Every inch of you was pressed tight to him, and he felt all of it. The heat. The wetness. The hunger.
”G-God…” He gasped, his head dropping to your shoulder for a split second, voice thick, “I c-can’t–can’t stop–need…Need something–“ And then his hands flexed, dragging you forward–against him. You cried out, the sound strangled and high as he rocked your hips into his, grinding you against the thick line of his cock through his sweatpants. The friction sent a lightning bolt through your core, and your whole body spasmed in response, clutching at his shoulders as the contact jolted through your nerves.
“Oh–God–” You moaned, tearing your mouth from his as your head tipped back, spine arching. “Oh fuck–do that again–” He didn’t even answer. Just groaned–loud, filthy–and rolled your hips again. Rougher. Harder. Enough that your soaked panties dragged hot and slick over the outline of him, soaking into the soft cotton of his clothes and yours.
You clung to him, nails digging into his shoulders as your thighs trembled on either side of his lap. Your hands found his hair and tugged–hard–and he moaned so deeply it vibrated through your ribs. His mouth trailed down to your jaw, your throat, open-mouthed kisses dragging over sweat-slick skin. His tongue was everywhere–greedy and reverent–and then you felt him kiss the top of your chest, right along the edge of your tank top.
You were panting, shaking, drenched in sweat and arousal. You couldn’t stop grinding down against him now, couldn’t stop chasing that friction as you rolled your hips again and again, letting your swollen heat drag along his cock in slow, devastating passes. The pressure built fast, sharp and aching, pulsing low in your belly with every movement.
Bob’s mouth trembled where it kissed just below your collarbone. His fingers slipped up your sides, shaky but sure–and then they hooked under the thin straps of your tank top.
“P-Please–” He rasped, looking up at you like he was about to fall apart. “Can I—can I see you?”
You nodded, breathless. “Yes. God, yes.”
He didn’t wait. He dragged the straps down your arms, kissing the slope of your shoulder as they slipped, one by one. Then he tugged the neckline down–slow, desperate–and bared your breasts to the heavy, sweat-damp air.
The second your nipples were exposed, he let out a groan–a sound so broken, it barely sounded human. His eyes glazed with worship, with hunger.
And then his mouth was on you.
He wrapped his lips around one tight, aching nipple and moaned–like he was dying for the taste of you. His tongue flicked, sucked, lapped, over and over, and you cried out, hips jerking uncontrollably in his lap as you rutted down against him.
“Oh my god–Bob–“ You gasped, fingers burying in his hair, yanking him closer, needier. “That–fuck–you’re so good…” He didn’t stop. If anything, he got more desperate. His tongue traced circles around your nipple, sucking it deeper into his mouth with each slow pull of his lips. One of his hands gripped your ass, guiding your hips faster against his erection, grinding you down until your whole body was quivering.
“Y-You’re so warm,” He panted between kisses. “So soft–God–“ And then he took the other nipple between his lips, just as eager, just as mindless. His tongue licked a long, slow stripe across the swell of your breast and you sobbed at the contact, your whole body arching into him. Bob groaned around your nipple one last time before pulling off with a wet pop, his mouth red and slick with spit. His eyes were blown wide, pupils so dilated there was barely any blue left–but there was something else swimming behind them too, something ancient, hungry, waiting to surface. His breath caught in his throat as he leaned in close, nudging your jaw with his nose, mouth grazing your cheek. Then suddenly–
He surged forward.
Your back hit the cold tile in one fluid motion, the breath punching out of your lungs as he guided you down with firm hands, mouth still dragging across your chest. The contrast between the icy floor and the furnace of your skin made you cry out softly, arching up into his touch.
“Bob–” You gasped, but your words cut off with a moan as his hands slipped low, gripping the waistband of your pants and underwear in one practiced motion.
“L-Lift your hips,” He instructed–voice rough and tight with restraint. You obeyed instantly, and he peeled both garments down your legs in a single fluid movement, baring you to the air, to him, to everything.
Your thighs quivered as the rush of cool air met the wet heat between them. You leaned up, grabbed the hem of your tank top, and tore it over your head. It hit the floor behind you just as Bob stripped off his shirt–his chest gleaming with sweat, muscles flexing, dusted with faint gold shimmer and a constellation of freckles across his collarbones.
You barely had a second to breathe before he dropped between your thighs again, mouth finding yours in a kiss so urgent and deep it knocked your head back against the tile. It was messier now–hotter, more desperate, his tongue fucking into your mouth with wild hunger.
Then he broke away just far enough to speak.
“I-I’m going to c-crawl on my fucking knees,” He growled, “And you’re gonna spread those thighs wider for me, and let me eat you until you come on my tongue.”You arched up with a moan, hips twitching off the floor. Your hands reached for him blindly, pulling at his shoulders as he trailed kisses down your throat, your chest, your ribs.
“I need you so fucking bad,” He whispered, his voice darker now–lower, smoother. The stutter was gone.
You blinked through the haze, the heat, the sweat clinging to your lashes–and that’s when you saw it. The eyes. Not Bob’s soft blue. Gold. Molten.
“Sentry,” You whispered, breath catching.
But you didn’t stop him.
You didn’t want to.
His teeth scraped gently along your stomach, sending electric pulses through your nerves, and then he kissed the inside of your hip bones like he was worshipping an altar.
“You smell so fucking sweet,” He murmured, nose dragging through the crease where your thigh met your core, voice reverent and filthy all at once. “I can’t wait to have a taste.” You sobbed his name as your thighs opened wider for him, your body obeying without question. He slid his hands beneath you, lifting your hips off the floor, draping your thighs over his shoulders–his palms spreading across your lower back to anchor you in place.
“Look at you,” He groaned, lips brushing against your soaked folds without yet tasting. “You’re drenched…You’re so fucking wet I can see it drip.”
Then he leaned in.
And licked a slow, devastating stripe up your center.
You choked on a scream. Your hips jerked hard against his mouth, and his arms tightened around your thighs, holding you down as his tongue moved again–sloppier this time. Messier. Hungrier. He licked into you like he was starving. Long, deep strokes. Quick flicks. Circles around your swollen clit that had you crying out his name.
“God, fuck–yes–”
You gripped his hair hard, yanking at the sweat-damp strands, and he groaned like he liked it–no, loved it. The vibration of the sound against your core made your whole body shake.
“You taste like summer, like heat, like stars.” He moaned. “Absolutely fucking sinful.” He pulled back only long enough to look at you, his mouth wet, chin dripping with slick.
“I can’t wait to make you come on my tongue,” He growled.
And then he dove back in.
Tongue sliding flat against your clit, then swirling, sucking it into his mouth with slow, rhythmic pulls that made your vision blur. You cried out, grinding into his face, your hands clutching his hair, your whole body vibrating with sensation.
“P-Please–” you whimpered, barely able to breathe, “Please don’t stop–”
He didn’t.
He licked and sucked and groaned like you were his favorite meal, like he could do this for hours. His hands gripped your ass, dragging you tighter to his mouth, keeping you from squirming away.
You were going to come.
It was building fast–tight and white-hot and burning like it had nowhere else to go. You were right on the edge when–
He slipped one thick finger inside you.
You let out a loud gasp. It wasn’t pain–it was too much. Too good. The stretch, the pressure, the way his mouth never stopped moving.
“That’s it,” He murmured against your clit. “Take my fingers…Just like that…You’re so tight, fuck…I’m imagining how you’re going to take me.”
You clenched around him, and he groaned again–louder this time–and slid a second finger in, stretching you open. His fingers curled up, rubbing slow, teasing strokes into that perfect, devastating spot. Your walls fluttered, your thighs trembled.
“Oh god, oh god–”
“Come for me,” He growled. “Right now. Let me feel you.”
And he sped up.
Fingers pumping hard, mouth sucking your clit with filthy precision. You sobbed his name, your back arched clean off the tile, and you shattered.
The orgasm ripped through you like fire, like lightning–your thighs locking around his head, your hands gripping his hair as you wailed through it.
He didn’t stop.
Not when you cried out.
Not when you begged.
He kept sucking, licking, fucking his fingers into you as your body convulsed.
Your body was still twitching when he pulled his fingers free–slick and trembling, your core fluttering from aftershocks as he slowly sat back on his heels.
His chin was soaked. His lips swollen. His eyes–those molten, god-touched eyes–burned down the length of your naked body like sunlight through stained glass.
“I should feel sated,” He murmured, voice too calm for the storm coiled in his chest. “I should be full from what I’ve just taken.”He leaned in. Slowly. Pressed one open-mouthed kiss to your thigh, then another–hot and reverent, just shy of your folds. His breath dragged over you, still sensitive, and it made you whimper.
“But I’m not,” He said low, his nose skimming up the inside of your leg as he worked his way toward your face. “I’m still starving.”
You were trying to breathe, but it wasn’t easy. Not with your pulse echoing in your throat, not with the ache between your legs still pulsing with the memory of his tongue, and certainly not with him looking at you like that.
“I’ve waited…So long to taste you.”
His voice was velvet heat–slick with need, rich with something that throbbed like want and worship tangled together.
He braced a hand on either side of your head as he crawled up over you, hair wild around his face, sweat glistening on the slopes of his shoulders and chest. The weight of him caged you in. It wasn’t heavy–it was all-consuming.
You reached up with a trembling hand and cupped his face. His skin was flushed, warm and slick, his jaw tight as though holding back something enormous.
“I can still feel you,” You whispered, voice raw. “On my mouth. On my thighs. Inside me.”
He smiled at that–but it wasn’t gentle.
It was hunger.
“You’ll feel me even more soon.”His hand found your jaw, thumb brushing your lower lip, and his gaze flicked down–watching the way your mouth parted for him instinctively. He leaned in again, voice now a whisper of thunder against your cheek, “Imagine what it’s going to be like when I fuck you…” Your hips bucked helplessly beneath him, but he only smirked, catching them with a firm palm.
“Sentry,” You gasped, voice trembling as your thighs clenched under the weight of him, “P-Please. God—don’t you feel it too?!”
His nose brushed yours, breath hot against your cheek. He didn’t answer at first–just let that small, dangerous smile curl across his lips, teeth barely catching his lower lip before he released it.
“Of course I feel it,” He murmured, hips dragging downward, grinding his clothed cock into your slick heat. “It’s everywhere in me. In my chest, in my spine, my teeth.” His voice dropped to a darker pitch, and the gold in his eyes flared one last time before dimming. “I-I just know I’m going to get what I-I need…
Bob sat back on his knees between your spread thighs, hands sliding slow and sure down his stomach to the waistband of his sweatpants. “I-I already came once just from eating you out,” He confessed, voice timid now, “I t-think I have more in me…”
Then he tugged the sweatpants down.
Your breath stuttered in your throat.
His erection sprang free, flushed dark and glistening at the tip, already slick with the evidence of his earlier release. A thick bead of cum sat heavy at the crown, dripping slowly down the curve of his shaft, and your whole body twitched at the sight of it. The raw, shameless arousal surged in your belly like wildfire.
“Fuck–” You whispered, pupils blown wide.
He was beautiful. Veined and heavy and so hard it twitched with every breath. You couldn’t stop yourself. Your hand moved without thought–licking your palm once, slow and deliberate, before wrapping your fingers around him.
Bob groaned immediately–deep. His head dropped forward, curls swinging around his jaw, and his hips bucked into your touch as your hand slid down the length of him in a slow, sticky stroke. His cock throbbed in your grip. Hot. Pulsing.
“Mmmf–fuck,” He growled, the sound rattling against the walls. He dropped one hand down to your thigh to steady himself, the other bracing behind him as you worked him with your slick hand–up and down, tight and wet and slow, like you wanted to savor every second.
His breath came out in sharp pants, his face flushed, his eyes fluttering shut as your thumb rubbed just beneath the swollen head, gathering that leaking slick and spreading it over his cock.
“God, I didn’t even have to touch you and you came.” You whispered,
“That’s what y-you do to me,” he gasped, voice shaking. “I couldn’t help it—god, I couldn’t fucking help it—” He surged forward, kissing you hard, and you moaned against his mouth as his hips began to stutter forward, chasing the motion of your hand with every pass.
It was hot, the way he kissed you–messy. His mouth was open, panting against yours, lips dragging along your tongue, teeth grazing your bottom lip before sucking it into his mouth with a wet pop. He moaned into you with every stroke of your hand, deep in his chest, growling like it hurt not to move faster.
He kissed like he was about to fall apart in your arms.
Like he wanted to ruin you and thank you at the same time.
And you could feel it–he was close again. Already.
“G-God–don’t stop–don’t stop–” he choked out, hips bucking into your grip, his cock twitching hard in your palm.
Then his mouth tore from yours with a ragged moan, his body going rigid as he came–again.
Thick ropes of cum spilled across your stomach in hot, wet spurts–slicking your skin, painting the swell of your belly in messy, sticky heat. Bob cried out, breath catching, his hand clutching your thigh hard enough to leave fingerprints as his hips jerked against your hand one last time.
You watched it all, feeling it dripping down your skin. You slowed your hand, and then looked up at him. His eyes were fluttered closed. His mouth hung open, panting raggedly. His cheeks were red and damp with sweat, hair curling against his temples in loose, disheveled strands.
And then–
You ran your fingers through the puddle of cum on your stomach.
Bob’s eyes snapped open.
He watched, transfixed, as you dragged two fingers slowly through the mess he left on you–slicking them up, glossy with white.
Then you brought them to your mouth.
And sucked them clean.
He groaned–low and guttural, more animal than man. He surged forward and kissed you, hard–his mouth hot and open, tongue licking into yours like he needed to taste what you’d just tasted.
And when he pulled back–just barely–he looked drunk. Starved. His voice was hoarse, reverent.
“W-We taste so g-good together,” He whispered.
You whimpered, eyes wide and glassy.
And then your voice broke.
“I need you inside me.”
His breath hitched sharply. His eyes searched your face like a prayer–like he needed to make sure this wasn’t just the pollen, wasn’t just chemical.
But your body told him everything he needed to know. The slick between your thighs. The tremble in your voice. The way your legs fell open without fear. He saw your hand reaching for him–trembling, open, desperate–and instead of just taking it, he kissed it.
One slow kiss to your palm. Then your wrist. Then each fingertip in turn, reverent and breath-warmed. His eyes didn’t leave yours, even when his lips brushed the soft pads of your fingers. It felt like something sacred.
“I-I’m yours, Y/N…” He whispered, his voice wrecked–hoarse and honeyed, lined with awe. “All yours.”
Your chest trembled. Not from the pollen. Not from the heat. From the weight of it–his words, his body, his need. You brought your other hand to his cheek, touching the sweat-slick curve of his face, thumb stroking over his flushed skin.
“You’re burning up,” You whispered.
“So are you,” He breathed back.
But the ache had shifted now. It was lower. Thicker. No longer frantic. Just heavy. Full. Demanding.
His lips met yours again–slow this time, almost trembling. Not chasing. Not crashing. Just pressing. Full and warm. Your mouths moved in sync, deeper with every pass, until he adjusted his weight above you, one forearm braced beside your head while the other hand snaked down to your thigh.
His fingers curled around the underside of it, tugging you closer until your legs wrapped around him again and your slick heat pressed against his length. He groaned into your mouth at the contact.
“G-God, Y/N,” He muttered, dragging his mouth down to your throat, kissing the line of your pulse. “You’re s-still dripping. I can feel it–so hot, so wet for me…”
His hand shifted, reaching between your bodies. He stroked himself once. Twice. The glide was obscene, slick with both your arousal and his release from before. He cursed low under his breath–voice strained with restraint–and guided the thick head of his erection to your entrance. Then–he paused, letting his forehead press to yours, his nose brushing yours as he whispered
“T-Tell me you want it.”
”I want you, Bob,” You breathed, “I’ve wanted you for so long…Please I want you inside me.” You begged, almost on the brink of tears just from the sheer anticipation that wracked through your body. He let out a long sigh and slid in, with such slowness you felt your whole body tense up.
You both gasped at the same time–loud, broken, raw. Your back arched and your thighs locked tighter around him as he pushed forward, inch by inch, stretching you wide with the thick, pulsing heat of him. He groaned above you, mouth falling open as your walls clenched around him, impossibly wet and tight.
“Oh–f-fuck…” He stuttered, his voice cracking like it couldn’t contain the feeling. “You feel…God…You feel like…Like e-everything.”
You whined under him, nails scraping lightly across his back. Every inch dragged through you like it was carved for you–hot, thick, filling. It was too much and not enough at once.
“You’re stretching me so good,” You gasped, voice shaking. “Bob–go slow–I wanna feel all of it.” He obeyed, hips moving with devastating care, sinking into you until he bottomed out, fully seated, buried to the hilt. The moan that left your mouth was guttural. His wasn’t any better. It came from deep in his chest–an animal sound, trembling and wrecked.
He stayed still inside you, just for a moment, just to feel everything, just to breathe.
Your chest rose beneath him in shuddering gasps, your nails pressing into the flex of his back as your hips trembled beneath the weight of him. He was deep–so deep it was hard to breathe–but it wasn’t painful. It was perfect. Like a lock clicking into place after too many years of holding the wrong key.
His forehead dropped to yours, your sweat-slick skin sticking where it touched, his breath ragged and hot against your cheek. His arms trembled faintly from the restraint, from the fire still licking through his blood, from the unholy grip of your body around him. His hands slid slowly from the curve of your thigh up to your waist, his thumbs brushing over your hips as if memorizing them. One hand trailed higher, tracing the line of your ribs, his touch light, soothing, trembling.
”You feel–“ He choked on the words, voice wrecked and shaking, “–Like…L-Like you were made for every inch of m-me.” Your fingers dug into his shoulders as your back arched slightly, hips shifting. The movement made him twitch deep inside you, and the sound he let out was hoarse and broken. Your lips brushed his, breath mingling.
“I need you to move,” you whispered. “Please, Bob. I need you to–”
He cut you off with a kiss.
Not desperate. Not wild. Just deep. Intentional. His lips dragged against yours in slow, soft strokes, his tongue slipping into your mouth like a secret. You kissed him back with a whimper, your hands cupping his face, fingers sliding into the damp curls at the base of his neck.
Then he started to move.
Slow at first.
A long, slow withdrawal that had your breath catching in your throat, followed by a deep, steady thrust that made you moan into his mouth. His hips rocked forward again, harder this time, but still slow. Still deliberate. Still savoring.
You felt every inch.
And he felt everything.
Your slick heat around him. The way your body welcomed him, tightened for him, trembled from the fullness. He moved like he wanted to stay inside you forever–long strokes that dragged through you with devastating patience, hips grinding at the end of each thrust like he wanted to feel the slick press of your clit against his skin.
He kissed you between thrusts–messy, wet kisses that dragged across your jaw, your cheek, your mouth again. His lips caught your whimpers. His tongue tasted your gasps. He moaned into your mouth when you clenched around him.
And then–
His hand slid up your chest, broad and warm, until his palm cupped the base of your throat. Not tight. Not forceful. Just there. Anchoring. Feeling the frantic flutter of your pulse beneath his fingers like it was the most sacred thing he’d ever touched.
“You’re burning,” He whispered, lips dragging across your cheek, your jaw, the corner of your mouth. “S-So warm…So soft…So alive…”
His hips rolled again, slow but deep, pressing into you until your breath stuttered beneath his palm. Your body arched into him helplessly, your thighs wrapping tighter around his waist, your mouth parting on a moan that he caught with a kiss–hot, slick, and panting. He swallowed it greedily.
The pressure of his hand on your throat didn’t restrict. It grounded. Like he needed to feel your heartbeat just to believe this was real.
You whimpered, and he pulled back enough to look at you–his curls dripping sweat, his lips swollen and damp, and those eyes, half-lidded and molten gold at the edges.
“G-God, I could be inside you forever,” he rasped, voice trembling like the words themselves threatened to undo him. “I–I never want to l-leave this. Never wanna stop feeling you like this…”
Another thrust–this one deeper, grinding. Your head dropped back with a gasp.
“Bob–” You sobbed his name like it was the only word you remembered, your fingers twisting hard in his hair. He groaned, deep and wrecked, his hips stuttering slightly as you tugged, his body responding like you’d yanked something primal out of him. His mouth found yours again, frantic and hot, tongue flicking into your mouth with messy, desperate hunger.
Then he pulled back just enough to see your face–flushed, dewy with sweat, eyes glassy and wide.
“Y-You’re close again,” He murmured, like it was something holy. His hand still cradled your throat lightly, thumb stroking gently beneath your jaw as he pressed his forehead to yours, “I–I can feel it, you’re tightening every time I move–you’re doing so good for me Y/N.” You whimpered beneath him, your hands clutching at his back, at his shoulders, pulling him deeper, harder, anything–
“I’ve got you,” He whispered, rocking into you again, the friction slow and devastating. “Let go for me. Come around me. I wanna feel it. I wanna feel you fall apart.”
You moaned–high and soft and broken.
“That’s it,” he breathed, voice breaking. “Just like that. You’re doing so good—G-God–you’re so perfect.” Your thighs shook around his hips. His hand slid down from your throat to your chest, splaying wide over your sternum, as if he could feel the orgasm building beneath your ribs. His other hand slipped to your hip, holding you still as he gave one slow, deep thrust that hit the exact spot that made your vision blur.
Your mouth dropped open in a cry.
“Come for me,” He begged, hips rolling again, steady and relentless. “Please–I wanna feel you–let me feel you come around me–”
You shattered.
Your back arched off the floor, your breath catching in a series of sobbed gasps as the orgasm ripped through you. He kept moving, kept whispering praise through your climax, voice ragged with awe.
“That’s it…That’s it, Y/N…You’re so beautiful like this–“ You clung to him like he was the only thing keeping you on earth, your nails digging into his back, your body convulsing beneath him with every wave of pleasure. You could feel yourself pulsing around him, feel how it dragged a strangled moan out of his throat.
“I-I’m so close,” He gasped, his voice wrecked, his rhythm faltering. “W-Wanna fill you up–please–can I–?”
You nodded, breathless and trembling. “Yes–yes, please–I want it–give it to me–” With a broken groan, his hips jerked forward one last time–and he spilled inside you. His whole body shook as he came, burying his face in your neck, his arms wrapping around you like he needed to hold every part of you to survive it.
You could feel it–every throb, every pulse of warmth deep inside you. His moans, soft and shaking, buzzed against your throat as his breath caught in your skin.
He didn’t move for a long while.
Just stayed there–buried inside you, mouth warm against your neck, arms tight around your waist like he was anchoring himself to this moment, to the rhythm of your heart against his chest. His breath was still coming in short, shaken bursts, and yours wasn’t much better. You were both trembling a little–not from fear, not anymore–but from the rawness of what had just passed between you. Like your bodies hadn’t quite caught up to the aftermath of something so explosive, so full.
But the heat was different now.
It had shifted. Softened. Still warm. Still thick. But no longer blistering, no longer maddening. Just…Lingering.
Your hands slid slowly up his back, fingers tracing through the sweat that slicked his spine, dragging across the faint bumps of his vertebrae. He let out a soft, shaky sigh against your skin. Your fingertips wandered to his sides, palms smoothing gently over the curve of his ribs as if to say I’m here. Still here. I’m okay.
You tilted your head and pressed a kiss to his shoulder—soft, damp, reverent. His skin tasted like salt and breathless devotion.
Bob shifted then, his arms loosening around you as he lifted his head just slightly, enough to look down at you. His hair was a light brown mess, damp curls stuck to his temples, a few clinging to his cheeks. He blinked at you–slow, still dazed–but there was something clearer in his eyes now. Something tender. His hand dragged along your side, skimming your ribs, and he leaned down to kiss you again.
His lips moved against yours like he hadn’t quite gotten his fill–like maybe he never would. He kissed your mouth, then your jaw, then your neck, peppering slow, breathless kisses along the column of your throat. You giggled once–just a little–as his nose brushed the underside of your jaw, tickling your skin.
He pulled back just enough to blink down at you, lips wet and parted, chest still heaving.
”Y-You know I like you, right?” Your breath caught. Your fingers paused where they rested near the nape of his neck. His voice had cracked slightly on the word like, and you could tell he meant something so much more than that. Of course you knew his feelings for you, it was easy to spot, but hearing him say it aloud–even after the both of you just had the most carnal sex ever–still made you a bit breathless. You swallowed, then nodded–eyes searching his face, your heart fluttering in your throat.
“I like you too,” You whispered, your voice shaky and soft. “Always have…” Your cheeks burned, and not from residual heat. You traced a finger over the curve of his shoulder. “T-The circumstances right now are a bit c-crazy…But…Maybe after this…”You tried to continue, but your nerves tangled the words together.
He finished them for you.
“I-I’ll take you out,” He said, nodding once, as if promising both you and himself. “We…We can go to your favorite r-restaurant. And we can do this right…” He ducked his head a little, voice lowering to a smile. “W-Without the sex pollen.” You let out a laugh–helpless and bright–and leaned up to kiss him again. He grinned into it, just a little, and kissed you twice more, slower now, like sealing the agreement. When he finally pulled back, his thumb was brushing your cheekbone, his other hand still lazily tracing your hip.
His gaze dropped to your chest for a moment, then back to your eyes. “A-Are you still aching?” He asked gently.
You paused, body still humming with the memory of him, but no longer sharp with urgency. You shifted slightly, feeling the wet stickiness between your thighs, the throb finally quieting to something warm and dull.
“It’s dulled a little,” you admitted. “But I think we should wash up…”
He blinked, nodding. “R-Right. Yeah.”
You offered a small smile, brushing the sweat-slick hair from his forehead. “We’ve got that little makeshift shower unit in the corner storage. Emergency setup. I-I can activate it.”
He looked at you, eyes soft, one hand trailing lightly over your ribs again.
“I-I’ll come with you,” He murmured. “Just to m-make sure you’re okay.” His curls hung loose now, wild and slightly matted from where your fingers had yanked at them during your climax. The gold shimmer on his skin caught the low lab lights, making him glow faintly where he hovered above you.
“Aww,” you murmured, brushing a hand lazily over the sharp line of his jaw, “That’s sweet, Bob. Really. But we both know that’s not the reason you’re joining me.” Bob flushed immediately, lips twitching into a bashful grin.
“O-Okay,” He said quietly, nuzzling your cheek with the tip of his nose. “M-Maybe it isn’t…M-Maybe I just wanna wash you, and k-kiss you under the water…Until all this heat dies down inside me.” Your chest stuttered at that, heart tripping over itself. His voice was so soft, so wrecked, so full of you.
“Now that’s much better,” You whispered, leaning up to kiss the corner of his mouth. He smiled into it, and you felt the way his arms curled tighter around your middle, the way his cock–still half-hard inside you–twitched slightly at the praise. He sighed, then slowly pulled out, both of you gasping a little at the drag of it. You shivered, and he was already reaching for a nearby towel to cover you while you sat up. His hand cradled the back of your head as you steadied yourself. Always gentle, even now.
You stretched your sore limbs and started for the far corner of the lab where the emergency hygiene setup was stored. Still naked, still glowing with post-orgasm daze, you knelt beside the console and started activating the emergency rinse station–a compact but functional retractable stall with hot water access, a single pressure-nozzle head, and sealed drainage for contamination containment. You flipped open the sanitation kit, pulling out the packet of unscented soap, a washcloth, and the emergency towels folded like paper bricks.
Bob padded over behind you, and you heard him laugh softly as you organized the supplies with shaky hands.
“What?” You said over your shoulder, arching an eyebrow.
He scratched the back of his neck, grinning sheepishly. “N-Nothing. Y-You just look really focused for someone who’s still naked and covered in glittery sex pollen.”
You snorted. “Yeah, well,” you murmured, standing and turning to face him, “Remind me to access the cameras in here later and delete the footage of what happened…”
Bob raised his brows. “You think there’s audio?”
You gave him a deadpan look. “Bob. We shouted at each other and cried out mid-orgasm while covered in science glitter. If there’s audio, we’re already blackmail material.”
His face turned scarlet.
“Y-You think they’ll–”
“I don’t think we want our sex tape leaking,” You interrupted, grinning wickedly as you flicked the shower head on. Warm water streamed out with a pleasant hiss, filling the space with a light mist and the sound of soft rainfall. You stepped under it first, pulling him gently in after you. The water hit your skin and instantly began washing away the gold flecks still clinging to your chest and thighs.
Bob’s hands found your waist again.
“…M-Maybe I’ll take a copy,” He mumbled.
You looked over your shoulder at him with mock exasperation. “You’ll have the real thing almost every night, Bob,” you said, voice low and teasing. “I don’t think you’ll need a copy.” His breath hitched–barely–and then you felt his mouth press to the back of your shoulder, his arms circling your waist from behind.
“I-Is that so?” He asked, lips trailing kisses up your damp neck.
You tilted your head back against him, smiling into the steam.
“Oh, it’s definitely so,” You said, reaching back to cup the nape of his neck, pulling him closer as the water cascaded around you both–cleansing your skin, but not your hunger.
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lady-lauren · 10 months ago
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❥ SHOTA AIZAWA X FEM!READER
❥ WORD COUNT: 2.3k
❥ WARNINGS/TAGS: cam girl!reader, former student/teacher relationship (but you're still his ~favorite~), praise, mutual masturbation, sex toys, use of "good girl", lots of dirty talk, aizawa is a pervert and we all know it
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→ Kinktober Masterlist ←
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“Look how far you’ve come.” Shota loves how you still tremble at his praise, fingers faltering on the screen. “Remember when you used to be so shy? And now you’re just spreading your pussy open for me.” 
His gaze follows every movement, breath in his throat as you part your labia and slide your fingers down your folds.
He really thought it was just a rumor that the young generation of heroes had taken to social media to make money. Less villains meant less pay, sure, but he never thought he’d find you on one of his favorite sites, using the body he trained to stuff yourself with toys.
“You were always one of my favorites. Always such a good girl.” 
“I’m still a good girl, Sensei. Promise.”
You prove your point by smearing your fingers over your clit, moaning as your hips buck.
“Yeah? Then show me your face, sweetheart. Wanna fist my cock to every inch of you.”
It’s so wrong. He feels like a dirty old fuck in his bedroom, sweats shoved down to his knees and his laptop screen glowing in the dark on the bed next to him. His camera faces the muscles of his chest, angled just perfectly so you can see the dark trail of hair that leads down to his cock. The frame captures the pump of his bicep as he strokes his dick, yet he leaves it up to your imagination to piece together what’s happening off screen. 
“Then you have to show me your face too, okay?” 
There’s the nervousness he’s used to hearing crackle in your sweet voice. Always so studious, so sweet, the most pleasant of all the brats to deal with. You only ever wanted to please. 
He knew it was you by your bedspread in the thumbnail to your page. You still have the same pillows you used to have at U.A., all plush and girly with a memorable stuffie tucked off to the side.
“Maybe next time,” he offers, watching your tits heave and nipples tighten as you debate fulfilling his request. 
Your camera lens is focused from the bottom of your bed, allowing him the perfect view from your spread thighs to your delicate collarbone. You never show your face, not to anyone, not even in one-on-one chat rooms. He read your rules, but he’s special—he’s no scary stranger, just a perverted sicko who wants to watch his former student fuck herself for him.
He shouldn’t be doing this. But god he can’t help himself. He’s seen you flourish as a pro hero, tight suits and bright smiles to the public, and all he’s ever thought about is how fucking pretty you must look naked. 
“Then at least show me your cock, Sensei.”
You have got to stop calling him that. Yet his cock throbs and leaks at the honorific. 
“Fine.”
His simple answer is enough to convince you. You sit up on your knees on the bed and lean forward, making his mouth water as your breasts fill his screen. 
Shota strangles his cock in his fist as all of you comes into view. You raise the camera high enough to show your whole bed from an upward angle, letting him leer at you from head to toe. 
“Atta girl.” He groans as you lean back against your pillows with one hand anxiously running a finger over your lips. You stare right at him through his laptop screen and it makes his balls swell. “I’ve missed your pretty face.”
He watches how his words make you press your already sticky thighs together, like his voice shot straight down to your cunt.
“Oh yeah? Have you missed me, too? Do you think about your old Sensei?”
Moaning, you’re unashamed to slide your hand down your stomach, spreading your thighs so you can relieve the ache he’s building between your legs. 
“Mhmm, I do. Right now I’m thinking about what your cock looks like.” 
He’d almost forgotten his promise. Shota looks down at his length, sucking in a deep breath at the sight of himself swollen and drooling for you. He pumps himself a few times just to feel the pleasure, to gain the courage to drag the laptop with his free hand just enough to bring his dick into the picture.
A sharp little gasp from you echoes into his room and he’s suddenly far too self-satisfied. He admires how you writhe on your bed, pulling your knees up so he can once again see the full image of your wet pussy. 
“You’re so big,” you whisper like you mean it, like you’re wishing you had his cock in your hand instead of his. 
“You think I’d fit inside you, hm?” 
You’re like a curious cat eyeing him across the screen, lashes fluttering as you glance him over from base to tip. You must have a screen set up right next to your camera because your gaze is still meeting his as your head bobs up and down with the way he strokes his cock. 
“I dunno,” you moan as you spread your legs wider, two fingers dipping to prod at your hole, “you’re bigger than my toys.”
“And I bet that little cunt is so tight. Put your fingers in and show me.”
You still listen so obediently, just like when you were his student. 
He thumbs the head of his cock as he watches you sink two fingers into yourself, the microphone picking up the wet squish of your cunt. Your belly tightens with pleasure as you start to pump the digits into your pussy, slow at first and then picking up pace as your bliss builds. 
“Tell me what you would want me to do to you if I was there.”
There’s no filter for him now, not with your messy cunt filling his screen and your hand now plucking at your nipple. 
You take a moment to think, pretty head falling back to the pillows as you moan for him.
“Always wanted to kiss you, Sensei. Want to feel your hands all over me, ah,” you press the palm of your hand against your clit as you talk, making you nearly whine between breaths, “and I’d want your cock in my mouth.”
“You like sucking dick, sweetheart?” 
He starts matching the pace of his fist to your fingers, picturing his cock sliding between your plush, parted lips.
“I like having my face fucked,” you admit and it makes him groan. 
His noise spurs you on, makes you grab your tit and squeeze as your fingers move faster. 
“I’d love to slide my cock past your sweet lips and into your throat. Want you to gag on it, spit running down your face as I take what I want.” 
“Yes, want you to take what you want from me. Want you to use me, fill me up and fuck me with that fat cock, Sensei.” 
He nearly chokes at your words, blushing at how filthy your mouth is. He pumps himself faster, picturing having your soft body in his lap, your sloppy cunt sinking down onto him. 
“How do you want me to fuck you?” 
The moan that sounds from his laptop is so lovely, the slick sound of your fingers in your pussy making him shiver. 
“I can show you?” you ask more than state, pausing to look straight into the camera feed. “With a toy, I mean. Y-you can pick.” 
God, you’re such a delightful little minx. Shota squeezes the base of his cock as the mental image of you fucking yourself on a toy nearly topples him over the edge. He doesn’t know how he will handle actually viewing it. 
“Get your biggest dildo. Let’s see how it compares to me.” 
Any ounce of guilt he feels fades when you return to your bed with a purple, silicone cock, long and thick but not nearly as fat as the throbbing flesh he holds in his hand. 
“Guess you weren’t lying, were you, sweetheart? I’ll be the biggest thing that little pussy has ever taken.” 
Shota doesn’t care if he’s stepping beyond the realm of hypotheticals—he’ll get his hands on you, one way or another, all in due time. 
“Wanna see how I want you to fuck me?” you ask with the cutest smile, like you’re hiding such a naughty secret. 
“Show me. Fuck yourself for me, tell me every little thing I’m doing to you.”
He props an arm behind his head to get comfortable, the muscles of his abs and lats rippling in the dim light of the screen. He threads his fingers through his long hair and tugs the moment he sees you turn and get on your knees, bending until you’re in the most sinful doggy position he’s ever seen. 
“You start slow,” your voice drops to a sensual note, thick like honey, “cause you want me to feel every inch go inside me.”
The hand wrapped around his cock is moving before he can even think to stop, squeezing hard as he watches you reach around your body and start pushing the dildo between your pussy lips. 
Shota gets too close to the screen, strands of black hair grazing the edge of the camera, face still out of sight. His gaze scans from corner to corner, watching as if he intends to commit every single detail to memory. 
Your pussy sucks in the tip of the dildo, making you mewl, and slowly, torturously, you shove the length of it into your hole. 
“How do I feel?” 
“So good, want you to move, want you to fuck me hard.” 
You take the initiative to start bouncing the dildo in your pussy, sliding it in and out, building speed. The sound is licentious, wet, all mixed together with the short, airy moans you let out with every push into your body. Slick is starting to build on the silicone, creamy and thick. 
“Do you always get so wet or is it just for me?”
“All for you, Sensei. Cause you feel so good, you fuck me like I’ve always wanted.” 
Shota smears his thumb through the pre-cum freshly leaking from his cock, using it as lubricant as he starts a brutal pace on himself. He can hear the repetitive slap of his wrist hitting his thigh echo into the laptop microphone.
“That right? You’re a dirty girl for wanting to fuck her teacher.” 
“You’re so good to me, you rub my clit just how I like it.” 
He examines how one of your hands reaches under your body, two dainty fingers swirling around your clit before kneading it quickly, like you’re just so desperate to cum for him. 
The strokes he gives his cock are furious, other hand now coming down to cup his balls and roll them in his palm. His stomach flexes at the pleasure, picturing how that perfect cunt of yours would be squeezing him so tightly. 
“You wanna cum for me? Wanna cum all over your Sensei’s cock?”
“Please,” you groan into the sheets, hips now bucking with the pace of the dildo slamming into you, “will you let me cum? You said I’m such a good girl? Ah, ah, one of your favorites?” 
“Always my favorite, sweetheart. Show me how you cum, let me see you make a mess of yourself.”
Your knuckles are tight against the base of the dildo, using all your strength to fuck into yourself. You’re so close to the edge, panting, whining, hole stretched and practically weeping around the purple silicone. 
“You know I’ll fuck you faster, right? Harder. Just wait until I get my hands on you.”
Your tongue falls loose, “Want your hands on my hips, want you to spank me, oh god, pull my hair, kiss me and fuck me and tell me I’m all yours.” 
“You’re gonna cum for me, scream for me, all for me, got it?” 
He can see the way your head shakes on the bed, mascara dripping down the side of your face that he can see. Tears are in your lashes, your lip caught between your teeth, and even still you’re looking back for him, watching him tug and pull his cock with your name in his mouth. 
“God you’re so hot, your cock’s so big—”
A beautiful, strangled noise comes out of you as you finally come apart, your cunt clamping down around the dildo and your motions stilling. You scream into the mattress, all high-pitched and fucked out. Slick squelches from your stuffed hole, dripping down your thighs. 
With the scene before him, it only takes a few more pumps before he’s unloading, cum spurting out over his knuckles and up onto his stomach, rope after rope spilling out for you.
His room goes quiet, his pants and your whiny breaths the only sound he hears over the pounding of his heart. 
Finally, you shift on your bed, and he does his best not to look at the mess he’s made in his hand.
“Um,” you awkwardly clear your throat, looking away from him as you slide the dildo from your cunt. He can’t help but watch the way your pussy lips drag along the length. 
The post-nut clarity hits him like a steam roller. His clean hand grabs his laptop, ready to shut the screen and pretend none of this ever transpired except in the guilty pit of his daydreams—
“Shota,” you mumble, sitting on your knees and holding your body, “this was, uh, well really…hot. I…I wouldn’t mind doing it again.”
His ears perk, unsure if he’s ever heard you call him by his first name. 
Before he changes his mind, he drags the laptop on his bed until the camera catches his face. You blink so prettily at the sight of him, dropping one of your hands from your breast like you’re just so comfortable seeing him. 
“Next time will be in person.” 
You give him the most genuine little smile, “Promise?”
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moondustbaby · 2 months ago
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Mine
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blue collar!Rafe x sahm!Reader
a/n: based on this request! 💌
summary: When you and Rafe are called in for parent-teacher conferences at jace’s school, you expect to talk finger paints and reading levels—not watch his overly friendly kindergarten teacher openly flirt with your husband. But lucky for her, you’re a patient woman. lucky for you, Rafe knows exactly who he belongs to.
Jace’s kindergarten classroom smells like glue sticks and apple juice, and the tiny plastic chairs dig into the backs of your knees as you shift uncomfortably in one of them. Rafe’s beside you, looking wildly out of place in his dusty jeans and a navy tee that still has faint paint streaks across the chest. He’d come straight from a job site, boots scuffed and skin golden from the sun, and when he sat down beside you, his hand naturally rested on your thigh, grounding you like always.
But the teacher hasn’t looked at you once.
“Mr. Cameron” she says for the third time, practically purring it now, “It’s just so nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you from Jace.”
You blink. You’re right here.
“I’m his mom,” you offer with a polite smile, trying not to sound annoyed even though it’s starting to bubble up. “We’ve met before.”
“Oh, right, of course,” she says airily, eyes already back on Rafe. “But it’s so sweet—he talks about how his dad builds houses. That must be so rewarding.”
Rafe shifts a little in his seat, clearly uncomfortable. “It’s a lot of hours,” he says, glancing over at you like he knows. “But worth it.”
“Well, you must be so strong,” she laughs, touching her own arm like she’s imagining what his biceps feel like. “It’s just amazing what you do.”
You’re seconds away from launching yourself across the small table.
Rafe gives you a sideways look, a small twitch of his lips like he’s holding back a laugh, but you can tell by the way his hand tightens on your leg that he’s noticed it too.
You lean forward, smile sugary sweet. “He’s got strong arms and strong hands,” you say, resting your hand over his and threading your fingers through his. “Especially when he’s taking care of the kids so I can rest. You know—real husband stuff.”
The teacher’s smile wavers.
“Oh, of course,” she says. “Well—um—Jace is doing great. He’s a real sweetheart.”
“He gets that from his dad,” you say, batting your lashes at Rafe. “Except when someone crosses the line. Then he’s real protective.”
Rafe lets out a low breath that might be a laugh and finally turns his attention to the teacher. “We good with Jace, then? No issues?”
“None,” she says, flustered now, flipping through her notes. “He’s doing great. Just keep reading with him at home.”
You stand first, squeezing Rafe’s hand and helping him up, and he towers over both of you in his work boots, broad and golden and so clearly yours. You reach for his arm and give him a lingering look as he thanks the teacher, and you don’t miss the way she watches him as he walks out.
Once you’re in the hallway, Rafe leans close.
“You were gonna bite her head off,” he murmurs, clearly amused.
“I was gonna do worse,” you mutter, crossing your arms as you walk toward the front office. “She didn’t even see me.”
“She definitely saw you. Just didn’t know what she was messin’ with.”
“She was flirting with you.”
“I know.”
You narrow your eyes at him, but he’s got that smug, crooked smile that makes your heart skip even when he’s being a little shit.
“You think this is funny?” you say.
“I think it’s hot when you get jealous.”
“I wasn’t jealous,” you lie, scowling now. “I was territorial.”
He laughs, then pulls you in by the waist, pressing you up against the hallway wall where no one can see. You yelp, more in shock than anything else.
“Rafe—”
“She kept starin’ at me like she wanted to take me home,” he murmurs, lips brushing your ear. “But you’re the one who gets to take me home. You’re the one who knows what these hands feel like when I’m not buildin’ houses.”
Your breath hitches.
“She doesn’t know what I sound like when I’m beggin’ you to let me come,” he says, rough and low now. “She doesn’t know how many times I’ve come home covered in dirt and dropped to my knees for you first thing, because I missed you too much.”
You swallow, fingers fisting in the front of his shirt. His jaw brushes yours.
“She doesn’t know I make you breakfast every Sunday. Or rub your back when you fall asleep on the couch. Or that I cry every time the kids bring home their little macaroni art projects and tell me they made ‘em for me.”
Now your eyes are stinging.
“She doesn’t know,” he says again, voice soft. “But you do.”
You nod slowly, heart beating out of your chest. His words always hit you like a truck tender and feral at the same time. And maybe the teacher had looked at him like she wanted him, but she’d never have him. Not like you did.
“You’re mine,” you whisper.
“Always.”
And he kisses you there in the hallway like it’s a promise.
༶⋆。゚☽✿⋆˚✧✿☾゚。⋆༶
a/n: this fic is brought to you by passive aggressive eye contact, smug blue-collar husband energy, and tiny kindergarten chairs that are not meant for full-grown people. anyway. protect your man and maybe kiss him in the hallway. academic excellence starts at home. thank you for the request!! 🤩
♥️ lani
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salthusiast · 2 months ago
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Who you truly are
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Viltrumite Mark x Female Reader
Summary: When the Invincible variants arrived on Earth, you never expected to get involved. It’s not like you knew Invincible personally. What you didn’t know was that you’d ended up housing one of these variants, and you didn’t know for weeks. Basically Viltrumite Mark pretends to be the Mark you know.
Word Count: 5.1k
Next parts: 2 , 3
Warnings: None! Maybe some violence, but if you watched the show, it’s basically nothing. Maybe slight ooc? In my defense this guy is pretending to be another person though.
Quick A/N: Hey, this is actually my first post on Tumblr so sorry if the formatting is weird or anything. Let me know if you guys want a part 2 :D
Life was so much simpler when you didn’t know. Who knew that in a singular month, your life would change so much? You could lie and say that you expected it to happen, but again that'd be a lie. Hell, even now you can barely believe the course of events that went down.
Sometimes you think about how many others got hurt during the war and its aftermath. You were so oblivious. You think about how he spared you like he did.
--------------------------
“Mark! Eve!” You call out, waving your hand to your friends across the hallway. Mark stops in his tracks, along with Eve.
Mark is more of your friend than Eve is, but you get along with her well. You walk purposefully to Mark, feeling like he may disappear if you take too long to get to him. It seems like he disappears all the time now.
“I haven’t seen you recently. Where have you been?” You approach him smiling.
Mark shares an indecipherable look with Eve, and chuckles awkwardly, “Around… You know, I’ve been busy with… stuff.” He says gesturing to his backpack. You raise an eyebrow seeing his backpack filled with books. 
“Studying? You? My, we really haven’t talked in a while. The last time we all hung out, you bailed halfway through.” You smile teasingly, not truly mad, but more concerned than anything.
He grimaces, “I know, I know. I’m sorry. It’s just been so hectic lately.” He looks over at Eve once again, she seems to empathize with whatever Mark is going through. You can’t help but feel… insignificant.
Mark was once one of your closest friends. What happened for them to grow so close? You can’t even bring yourself to be mad, Eve seems to understand him way more than you ever could.
Perhaps at one point, you would have felt different about that truth, but Mark as your friend is more important.
“Woah!” You chuckle, “It’s okay, really. I just want to make sure you aren’t, ya know, dead.” You smile, jokingly gesturing to your neck as if it was slit. He smiles and shakes his head, “Nope! Still kicking. I’ll be around for a while.” He glances at Eve, who seems to find what he said extra funny.
You laugh, “Yeah huh... Hey, I was wondering if you’d wanna hang out with us sometime soon. You, William, me, maybe one of my friends? Serena perhaps?” You raise a finger for each person you talk about. “Eve is free to join us too of course.” You smile at her, which she returns in good nature. 
Mark nods, “Yeah, I’ll make time for it. It’s been a minute since we’ve all hung out. Eve, would you wanna join?” Mark asks, turning to Eve.
“Sure. It’s been a while since we’ve all hung out as a group. I look forward to it.” She smiles at you. “I should be busy for a bit, but I’ll let you know when I’m free.”
You smile, “Great! That works for me!” You start to walk off before you stop abruptly and turn around. “You know we’re always here right?” You look at Mark and glance at Eve. He smiles back, but it looks more like a grimace. 
”Of course.” Suddenly he stands up straight. “Oh shoot I gotta go.” He announces before looking at Eve silently expressing… something? 
“No worries, see you guys…” They’re already speeding off to who knows where. They certainly have a mission in mind. They weren’t that rushed five minutes ago. Could whatever Mark forgot be that important?
(You didn’t know it at the time, but the reason he left was actually important. You later found out the reason on TV, even if you weren't aware it was him under the suit.)
“Hey, did you see what happened on the news?” Your friend, Serena, asks you later that day back in your apartment. She would often come over after classes to hang out.
You raise an eyebrow shaking your head, “No? Why? Anything interesting?” You sit down on the couch, leaning your head on the back as you respond.
“Somebody was trying to get Invincible’s attention earlier. He was talking for ages. Was claiming that he was the one who killed all those people in Chicago. I don’t know, he definitely has some issues he needs to sort out.” She waves a hand dismissively. 
That catches your attention, “Really that happened today? How’d I miss that? Wait, he was mad that Invincible ‘killed those people,’ but he is trying to kill people to get his attention?” You ask, doing air quotes as you say “killed those people.” 
“I’m not sure, it mainly just seemed like he wanted Invincible. I don’t know, I stopped questioning these villains a while ago. I only know the bare details.” She sighs.
You nod in agreement, “Fair enough.” You search for the remote and find it between the couch before turning on the TV. Perhaps this story is on the news?  
“ . . . just in! The newest villain, going by the name “Powerplex” has been arrested. Invincible was there to stop him this time, but that did not come without a cost. There were two casualties during this specific attack by him, not even counting his other attacks during this week. The casualties of this attack were his wife and child, who were electrocuted to death. It appears he took them hostage to get Invincible’s attention. You will all be happy to know that he has been arrested. . .” 
“That’s awful.” You frown. “Can’t believe he brought his wife and kids into it. That’s such a cruel thing to do… You think she knew what she was getting into with him?” You ask, turning toward Serena. 
“I mean maybe he was just a good actor? Perhaps he was able to blend in for a while?” Your friend throws out suggestions. “She could’ve also known though. Not that it’s my business. We’ll never know, and I don’t think I want to know.” She sighs before standing up.
“It’s horrific in either scenario. Imagine living with somebody for that long and not truly knowing who they are.” Serena chuckles, but there is no humor. You both stare at the TV screen, watching as the reporter drones on about the details.
“I think I’m going to head back home.” Serena stands up, grabbing her keys and swinging them in her hand. You nod, “Okay, drive home safe… Don’t get electrocuted.” You give her a thumbs up and smile. Is it wrong to joke about events like this? Probably, but if you don’t laugh you cry so…
She gives you an unamused expression “Ha. Ha. Very funny.” She rolls her eyes good-naturedly,  “I’ll see you later.” You wave as she walks out, turning your attention back to the TV. 
You have no connection to Invincible or any of that “superhero” life. The idea of superheroes excites you, but after seeing what occurred in Chicago, you can’t help but feel like it’s not all it’s made out to be.
It’s not like you’d be able to help. You’d end up as a casualty, another body to clean off the field. The thought makes you shiver.
Every time you see a story like this you wonder if there is a universe where it was you that died. It’s easy to just brush these events off like nothing when you aren’t living them.
That was how most people do it nowadays. Doesn’t affect you? Not your problem. It was a frustrating way to live. You didn’t like to think about how people are dying every day due to these villains.
However, you can’t not think about them. Hearing about this whole situation with, what’s his name, Powerplex? It creates this feeling of dread, a feeling you’re unable to ease. Who is to say that you aren’t going to be the next casualty mentioned on the news?
It truly was easy for the whole world to live in that ignorance. It was easier for you to live in ignorance, then they appeared.
--------------------------
DAY ONE
Honestly, the first day wasn’t that eventful for you. It wasn’t until the late evening you even heard about it.
You didn’t live in an area that was immediately affected by the attacks, so it wasn’t as if your apartment suddenly came crashing down on you. Instead, you got a call from Serena. You raise an eyebrow before picking up the phone. 
“Uh hey?” You wonder why she called you, it wasn’t like you got calls often.
”Oh my God, you’re okay.” She breathes out in relief, and now you know something is up. “Please tell me you’ve seen the news.” Her voice is filled with worry.
You stop moving, “No… You know I don’t check the news that often.” You respond. Admittedly, that's on you. You probably should keep up with the news more often.  
She sighs, “Turn it on. There’s like over a dozen Invincibles out destroying major world cities.” You feel your heart drop before immediately moving to your TV and turning it on. You switch to the news.
No words are being spoken, they don’t have to. The screams of panic strike fear into your heart.
The camera shows a gigantic building in Chicago crumbling down. The cameraman focuses their lens on the figure floating above it all. Whoever it is, they’re wearing a white uniform.
The camera isn’t advanced enough to zoom in on their face, but you don’t find yourself doubting Serena’s information. Suddenly a white blur knocks the camera away, and it fades into static. You watch in horror. 
“Oh shit…” You whisper to yourself, forgetting that you are still on the phone. 
“It’s being recommended that we don’t exit our homes. We just pretend like nobody is home.” Serena’s words barely register, but you nod, forgetting that she can’t see your visual response.
“Okay… So we just sit here until they leave?” You ask, feeling stupid for asking the question. What else could you do? Fight them? You’d sooner kill a bear with your bare hands than somehow survive facing off one of them. 
The silence between you two is loud, “Not like we have any other choice.”
--------------------------
DAY TWO
By this point, you had been living in relative darkness for a little over a day. Serena sent you a link to an article advising citizens what to do: keep the lights off, and stay away from windows. You don’t want them to know you’re there. You had occasionally gone to get some food and drinks from the kitchen, but besides that, you were pretty much locked in your room.
The small peeks you took of the outside world showed promise. Realistically, the chances of one of the variants coming to your suburban neighborhood to wreak havoc aren’t high.
You close the curtains and look away from the window. To be fair, they also aren’t zero.
After being bored and doing nothing for over a day, you were instantly aware when something changed in your environment. You felt your heart stop for a moment. It sounded like somebody entered your apartment. 
You remain frozen as you try and listen for any more signs of life outside your room. Eventually, you hear something. A voice calling your name, whoever it is sounds familiar. However, that doesn’t mean you’ll come running out. You don’t respond immediately, sitting there in silence and fear, slowly inching towards the closet to hide.
On the way, you pass by your door, which was slightly cracked open. The intruder could walk in whenever they wanted. It wasn’t the most brilliant move you’ve made, but it wasn’t like you were expecting guests okay?
Your eyes widen as you take in who it is. “Mark?” You push the door open hesitantly. His attention immediately snaps to you. “What are you doing here?” You ask, exhaling slowly and calming your pounding heartbeat. 
He stares at you stoically, before walking over to you, his steps are unhurried. Suddenly you realize that he left the door open behind him. You feel your heart rate spike up again. 
“WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU!?” You whisper yell as you push past him to the door. You accidentally bump your shoulder onto his while walking by, causing him to halt and falter in surprise.
”How did you get in? I thought you said you lost that emergency key I gave you.” You lock the door and turn to him again. He observes you silently.
“I found it.” He responds, tone even. 
“Well yes, I kinda assumed that.” You respond dryly before feeling the anger leave your body.
“Hey…” You place your hand on his shoulder and he stiffens. “Are you okay? Did one of those variants attack you or your mom?” He finally looks you in the eye for the first time since he unexpectedly entered. His stare is piercing, it feels like he’s looking at your entire soul. 
He pauses for a moment before answering, “They came through and destroyed my house.” His voice sounds detached like he’s somewhere else right now.
You feel your eyes widen and your heart drops, “Oh my God, is your mom okay?!��� You guide Mark back to your room, he seems to follow with no resistance. You sit on the floor, but he remains standing.
“She’s fine. She wasn’t there.” He responds, and you breathe a sigh of relief. 
“That’s good… I mean not good that your house was destroyed, but good that she got out of there. I mean have you seen the damage that these Invincibles have done?” Mark looks at you like he’s expecting something, and you feel slightly unnerved. Maybe he’s in shock? You can’t exactly blame him. You do feel kinda awkward though. How exactly do you comfort somebody who just had their home destroyed and almost had their mom killed?
“I was watching the news when it started, there was this one I saw. I think it was Chicago he hit?” Mark freezes slightly, his eyes narrowing in on you, but you don’t notice.
“It was crazy… He didn’t look like Invincible at all. However, judging by how many of the other attackers look like Invincible, I want to say that this one was probably some weird Invincible variant in white.” Mark gives you a weird look.
“What’s wrong? Still worried? Don’t worry we should be safe here. I don’t see why an Invincible variant would attack me. I don’t even know who is under that mask. We’ll be safe here if you wanna stay until it’s over.” You feel like you’re talking too much at this point, so you stop before you embarrass yourself more than you already have. 
“So I can stay.” Mark eventually speaks, getting your attention. The phrase is less of a question, and more of a statement, like he needs you to reaffirm what you already said.
You nod, “Of course, stay as long as you need.” You smile at him. Mark stares down at you before nodding and sitting right next to you on the floor. 
You raise an eyebrow, “You know you can sit on my bed right? You don’t have to sit on the floor.” He looks at you and slowly nods. 
“Right…” He sounds hesitant, but eventually stands up walking over to your bed. He sits down on it and looks back at you. He stares at you expectantly. You feel scrutinized under his gaze.
"Uh, is there something on my face?" You ask. He continues to stare at you before he looks away.
"You look different." Well okay then. Is that an insult or compliment?
“Uhh, I don’t exactly look much different than the last time I saw you. Maybe it’s the lack of sunlight.” You joke. He looks at you like you’re stupid. “Hey don’t give me that. Come on wanna play a game or something? I’ve been bored out of my mind here.”  You stand up stretching.
“A game…” He repeats dryly. “What ‘game’ would you wanna play?” He asks.
You hold your hand out giving him the “wait” gesture. He watches as you search around your room before finally finding what you're looking for. “Here we go!” You show him your deck of Uno cards. 
“Uno?” Mark responds confused. “You want to play this... ‘Uno?’” He gestures to the cards. You raise an eyebrow looking back at the cards.
”Yes…? Something wrong with that? I only have the original one if that’s what you’re upset about. Couldn’t find the Seance Dog version, I must've lost it.” You sit next to him starting to shuffle the cards.
”That’s not the problem…” Mark starts to sound unsure looking at the deck of cards. ”Do you perhaps have its original packaging?” He asks. 
You blink in confusion, “No, why?” You start giving him his cards.
”I just need to see its instructions.” He looks at the cards blankly.
You sigh, “No, stacking plus twos and plus fours is not in the rules. Yes, we will play with it anyway.”
You give yourself your cards before setting the giant stack down and flipping over the first card, it’s a green four. “I’ll go first.” You place a green seven down.
Mark stares at the cards, before looking up at you. He stares at his cards for half a minute. “You gonna play a card or are we just gonna sit here?” You joke. 
“Just…” He sounds frustrated, “Just give me a moment…” He looks at the cards. 
After another period of silence, you eventually break it, “Dude just place down a seven or green, please. Whatever strategy you’re thinking of, it clearly isn’t working.” You chuckle.
He looks at his cards before slowly placing a green five down. “Right… I was just planning something.” 
You immediately slam down a blue five. “Yeah sure, try all you want. You aren’t gonna win this time.”
He looks at you with the most serious look you’ve ever seen on his face, “I wouldn’t count on that.”
. . . . . . . . . . . . . .
“HOW?! YOU CAN’T DO THAT!” You point at the stack of cards in the middle, telling you to take 14 cards. 
“The rules are the rules. Take the cards.” Mark points to the deck of cards, his lips upturned slightly. 
You glare at him before smiling. That was the first time he’s "smiled" today. He’d been off all day, and if losing a game of Uno was what it took to cheer him up, it was a price to pay.
You both play a few more rounds before you get tired of losing. “Okay, you never win this much. Are you cheating?” You jokingly ask.
He scoffs, “Cheating? I don’t need to cheat to win.” He taunts holding his singular card in plain view. The words "UNO" in the back taunt you for the seventh time. The trace of a smile is gone from his face, but you can see the mirth in his eyes. 
“Yeah, yeah, enjoy it while you can.” You sigh placing down your only play. You look up at him, and he stares at you for a long moment.
“You know dramatically holding out your move doesn’t make you mysterious. Just draw more cards, I know you don’t have a yellow or two.” You roll your eyes. 
He looks at his card and sighs in the most contrived manner possible, a stark contrast to the serious demeanor he had when entering the apartment. “You’re right. I don’t have either…” He places his last card down, a wild.
You look at him blankly, he returns the stare with a smugness he didn’t previously have. You place your cards down before walking out into the kitchen, Mark follows you. “What are you doing?” He asks, the smug tone gone. 
“I'm gonna sacrifice myself to those variants running around, that fate might be better than having a seven-time losing streak.” You respond sarcastically.
“You know what,” You point out to the window, “at least I would beat them in Uno.” You say referring to the Invincibles out destroying the world.
Mark looks at you, then at the window, then back at you, “I doubt that.” 
You lean back on the counter dramatically, feigning offense, “Oh how you wound me! I think I could beat their asses in Uno! I bet at least one of them doesn’t even know how to play it!” 
“I’m sure.” He replies, there seems to be amusement in his voice, but you can’t imagine why. 
“Hey, I beat you in Uno all the time. Consider this your lucky day.” You grab a bag of chips. “I was going easy on you today.” You say before you begin grabbing chips out of the bag. “Want some?”
Mark looks at the bag, his face turning to a grimace, “I’ll… pass.” You shrug and continue snacking before putting the bag away.
”Suit yourself. Feel free to eat whatever I have, just don’t eat it all.” You gesture toward your pantry, his gaze following the direction you point. 
You start to walk away, “Where are you going?” He asks as you pause.
”Pillows? Blankets? I need to grab some extra for myself. You can take my bed.” You look into one of your cabinets, grabbing an extra couple of pillows and a blanket. 
“Is it not your bed though?” Mark asks, frowning.
”Well, yeah, but you’re my friend and my guest.” You smile walking towards your room, and he follows behind you. “I mean with everything you’ve been through recently, I’d feel bad if I forced you to the floor.” Mark remains silent.
You start to create a pile of blankets on the floor, rearranging the pillows how you like them. Mark watches silently. 
“Hey, could you turn my TV on? Make sure it’s muted. As long as the lights aren’t flashing too bright on it I think we’ll be okay.” You ask Mark, he gives a hum of acknowledgment before heading back to the living room.
You finish setting up the makeshift bed before joining him. You look around making sure all the windows are closed and secure before joining him. 
“Oh my God…” You whisper as you watch different clips play out on the TV. These Invincible are destroying cities. You can only stare in shock, you watch as buildings topple over, skyscrapers crumble to the ground, citizens get buried under rubble, and nearby life burns.
What you saw that Invincible in Chicago do was a fraction of the damage.
Mark doesn’t say anything, and the initial glance you took towards him when you walked in reflects that indecipherable look once again. Who knows what he’s thinking? These monsters almost killed his family.
You look over to him to see if he’s watching, his gaze looks detached and uninterested. You turn back toward the TV. “I’m sorry…” You mutter, feeling his eyes turn toward the back of your head.
“For what?” He asks, and he sounds genuinely confused. “You didn’t do it.”
You look back at him, his eyes reflecting disbelief at an apology. “No, but I’m sorry it happened to you.” You look at the screen, showing the burning buildings. It feels like you can hear their screams despite the muted volume. 
He looks at you, not that you can see, as if you're a puzzle. “Why apologize for something you didn’t do? Seems pointless.” He asks.
You look at him, your eyes meeting again, “Sympathy, perhaps.”
--------------------------
DAY THREE
You open your eyes to the blinding light of your window. You blink the sleepiness away before processing that your window is OPEN.
You stand up quickly, tripping over your pillow before you reach to close the window and curtains. You look at your empty bed, perfectly made. 
”Mark?” You call out. You open your door to see him in the kitchen with a mug in hand, windows all open, and lights bright as day.
You gape for a minute before walking over and closing all of them. Once you close them, you turn off the lights, you can still see, but you will admit you kind of missed lighting like that. “What are you doing?!”
Mark looks at you, raising an eyebrow.
You gesture wildly to the house around you, “Uhh I don’t wanna burst your bubble, but we are not Invincible. What are you gonna do if one of those variants attacks us? The attack on your house proves that nobody is safe.”
Mark looks at you uninterested, “Nobody will attack this place.”
”You can’t guarantee that, Mark.” You respond exasperated. “If you could, you wouldn’t be here right now.” You frown as Mark stares at you stoically.
“Look, I’m sorry. I really don’t want to take this out on you, but it’s scary out there. I don’t want to be this paranoid, trust me, but I can never be too sure what will happen.” You sigh looking at him.
“Hell I mean, one of those Invincibles could kick that door down, and we’d be toast. I mean how many even are there?” You ramble.
“Sixteen total.” 
“Sixteen?! Damn.” You exhale in disbelief. “That’s sixteen different Invincibles who could essentially destroy the world. Wait, how’d you even know there are sixteen?” You ask.
Mark gestures lazily toward the TV. “Righttttt, that was a dumb question.” You sigh. Suddenly you pause that train of thought, “Wait, what happened to Eve?”
Mark takes a slow sip of his coffee, “Not sure.”
You frown in concern, “Have you had contact with anybody since they invaded?”
”Just you.” He takes another sip.
”Damn, that’s sad… Do we want to try and contact her?” You ask hesitantly. It doesn’t seem like he wants to talk about Eve.
He shrugs, “Lost my phone.”
You frown, “Oh… Do you wanna. . .” You look up at him, his eyes dead set on you. “You know what, never mind.” You make a mental note to check if you have Eve’s number later, and maybe ask what his whole attitude is about.
“Anyway, were you up long before I got up?” You ask, changing the subject. 
He shakes his head, “No.” He responds. 
“Okay good, I was worried I had slept in or something.” You feel your phone vibrate in your pocket. You pull it out and see that Serena sent you a new link, you’re so grateful that she keeps up with news better than you can.
”Hey it seems like the variants disappeared from the cities.” You casually mention, Mark looks up, suddenly interested. 
“Where did they go?” He asks. You shrug in response, reading the rest of the article. He walks over to try and read over your shoulder.
“It seems like they all left at roughly the same time, perhaps something called them. Maybe they have a ‘Boss Invincible’ or something.” You joke.
Mark chuckles humorlessly, “You think?”
“You don’t think that?” You retort, smiling.
“No, I mean you’re probably right.” He takes a sip of his coffee. “It just sounds strange.” He continues.
You nod understanding, “Yeah, but I mean what else could bring them together? They have to have a leader of some kind. This attack seems too coordinated to just be unplanned.” 
Mark sips his coffee loudly, “I guess.” It sounds like he wants to say more, but he doesn’t. 
You feel your phone vibrate again. You check it and see a text from William. “Hey, William texted me! You’ll be glad to hear that he is okay.” You hear Mark hum in acknowledgment before opening the message. 
It’s safe. They’re gone for good.
You look at the text message surprised. You have multiple questions.
 
How do you know?
Just trust me on this, I know some people who work with the government. The Invincibles are gone. 
Mark notices your silence, “What is it?” He asks.
You turn towards him, “They’re gone gone. The Invincibles apparently vanished, completely. They didn’t just stop attacking the cities or get called away, they aren’t here anymore. They’re gone for good. ” This catches his attention. 
“Are you serious?” He asks. His eyebrows furrow, is he mad?
”...Yeah.” You pause before confirming. “Are you okay?” You walk up to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. He immediately tenses up.
“Hey, they’re gone. They can’t do any more damage. Everything will be okay.” You try to reassure him.
He looks down before relaxing. “They’re gone.” He repeats, you nod. “All of them?” He asks quietly, you nod. 
“All of them.”
--------------------------
“What do you mean they’re not all accounted for?” Cecil yells out walking down the hallway as one of the assistants follows closely.
“You mean to tell me that there is still one of those Marks out there?”
The assistant nods frantically, “We accounted for every single one that died, and the ones that were sent to that alternate dimension. There is still one here, and he’s not our Mark.”
Cecil stops walking, “Does Mark know?” He asks.
The assistant shakes their head, “No… We weren’t sure if we should tell him. I thought it was best to tell you first.”
Cecil nods in approval, “I’m glad you did… Do you know where he was last seen?”
“It was the Invincible that destroyed Chicago, he left after decimating that city. We aren’t entirely sure where he went. He could be on the other side of the globe, but we do know he hasn’t left the atmosphere.” The assistant replies.
"Good, we need to see if there’s a way to locate him. For all we know, he’s already aware that his counterparts have been banished. I can’t imagine he’d serve himself up on a silver platter for us to eliminate." Cecil starts walking towards Eve’s room, there’s a large chance Mark is still there. 
“He can’t hide for long, sir. We’ll find him.” The assistant follows closely behind him.
"Like you already said, he could be halfway across the globe. We can’t leave a threat like that lying around ready to strike whenever. We need whatever leverage we can get right now. If we make it public information that he’s wanted, he might just leave the planet."
"I don’t know about you, but I don’t exactly feel safe knowing an evil version of Invincible is out there somewhere in the universe. We were unprepared for this attack, next time we’ll be ready." Cecil walks down the hall watching through the windows as more ReAnimen are being created. He continues to walk past them.
“There’s only one of him. We’ll bide our time. Keep me updated on any status updates on him. If you hear anything that sounds like Viltrumite sightings, I need to know as soon as possible. I will spare no expense, understand?”
”Yes, sir.”
2K notes · View notes
smileysuh · 5 months ago
Text
apartment complex
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🌙 starring. Johnny Suh x afab!Reader I ft. Haechan & Jaehyun
🔮 preview. So… Johnny works on a rig for long periods of time, Jaehyun is a gym rat with dimples, and Hyuck is a… drug dealer who’s not afraid to be extremely direct and combative? And they’re all your neighbours and also into you? How did you get yourself into this mess? 
tw/cw. Unprotected sex, pent-up sexual tension, shower sex, masturbation, fingering, hand job, thigh riding, praise, dirty talk, breast worship/nipple play, big dick Johnny, pussy stretching, oral (f receiving), overstimulation, multiple reader orgasms, multiple sex positions, size kink (Johnny is big and a slight manhandler), mentions of aftercare, etc… I pet names: (hers) 304, baby, princess. 
👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 13.3k
🍭 aus. Love square, slice of life, neighbours to lovers, etc…
☀️ mlist + an. So when Johnny calls her the nickname ‘304,’ we’re not doing full numbers, it’s ‘three-oh-four’ which I actually think is kind of cute haha 
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One:
You feel like an absolute mess. Your hair is all over the place, you’re in a full sweats ensemble that is - true to its name - making you perspire like nothing else as you lug boxes upon boxes of your stuff into your building and up to your new apartment.
To make matters worse, you’re exhausted. Moving days have this absolutely draining effect, and you can’t wait for the day to be over. You’re not even sure if you’ll unpack anything- maybe you’ll just fish out a towel and some body wash from one of the many crates you have, shower, then collapse onto your mattress- do you even have the energy to set up your bed frame?
You’re busy trying to plan out how you’re going to even accomplish the day, when the elevator doors open, and you find yourself staring up at one of the hottest men you’ve ever seen.
“Hi,” he grins, stepping next to you in the small space. “Moving in?”
You’re so distracted by the way his biceps look in his muscle shirt that it takes you a moment to speak. “Uh, yeah.”
“I’m Johnny,” he tells you.
“y/n.” The box in your hands is beginning to slip from the sweat on your palms, and you haphazardly readjust it on your hip.
“This might be a little forward,” Johnny chuckles, “but do you need any help?”
“Uh…” You turn once again to look up at this absolute tower of a man. “I’m almost done moving everything-”
“Let me guess, boxes done, just some furniture stuff left?”
You feel your skin flush with heat. “Is it that obvious that I’m struggling right now?” An awkward laugh escapes your lips, and you’re happy to find Johnny return the sound with a soft, understanding smile.
“Usually when cute girls move somewhere, they have a boyfriend, a brother, a dad, a friend- someone to help them do the tough stuff, and since you’re alone, I’m guessing you’re troopering this whole thing out all by yourself.”
“New city,” you explain. “I don’t uh- don’t know anyone here just yet, and my family didn’t want to take time off work to help with any of this.”
“Lucky you bumped into me then,” Johnny grins. “I just finished up at the gym, but I’ve got energy to help a new neighbour.”
The elevator dings to signal you’ve made it to your floor, and Johnny follows you out.
“You’re the new tenant for 304?” he asks.
“Uh huh,” you nod, stopping in front of the unit you now call home.
“We really are neighbours,” Johnny laughs. “I’m 306.”
“Look it was nice to meet you,” you say, “but you really don’t need to help, I’m sure I can manage my bed and a few other things-”
“y/n,” Johnny interrupts you, “I promise I’m not some creep, just a good neighbour offering help. You look tired, let me help you.”
Your pride makes it difficult to accept this sort of thing, but you swallow it, offering Johnny a nod. 
And that’s how you find yourself moving your bed and the last bit of furniture into your new apartment with one of the sexiest guys you’ve ever seen. He’s quite the charmer, and he’s reassuring too- calming you down when things are a little heavy, and slowing his own pace to match your exhaustion.
In no time at all, everything is out of the moving truck, and Johnny leans in your doorway as he watches you slump into a chair. 
“Do you want help making your bedframe or anything?” he enquires.
“Honestly? I think I’m going to call it a day,” you admit. “The drive here was long, I’ve been up since five AM, didn’t sleep well last night due to nerves-”
“Sounds like you should get some rest,” Johnny nods.
“I really appreciate your help though,” you offer. “I’ll uh, have to buy you beers or something.”
Johnny only laughs. “That’s not necessary. Besides, I work on a rig, so I’m only here a week or so every month, you caught me at a good time.”
“Oh.” You can’t help the disappointment that surges through you. Of course this man was too hot to be true- of course he has a job that requires him to be away for long periods or he’d probably have an equally hot girlfriend already.
“But… let me give you my number, and if you ever need anything while I am here, you can just give me a shout.” 
The two of you exchange digits, and with one final smile, Johnny leaves you be. 
You lay on your bed for a while, trying to calm down- from the moving, or from being around a ten out of ten, you’re not sure. 
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Two:
It’s your first time doing laundry in the new building, and to your disappointment, you find the shared laundry room to have no available machines.
A sigh escapes you as you stand there momentarily, wondering if you should wait five minutes for a turn over, or just scratch this whole idea and hope there are empty machines tomorrow.
As you’re considering your options, the laundry room door opens, and a tall blonde enters.
“Hi,” he beams.
“Hello.” You watch him carefully, noticing that he heads to a machine to take out his clothes from the washer. “Uh- do you mind if I put my stuff in there once it’s empty?”
“Of course not,” he smiles. “With only six machines for the whole building, it can be a bit rough trying to nab one on busy days.”
“I’ve noticed,” you laugh. “I’m new here, my name is y/n.”
“I’m Jungwoo,” he tells you, moving his clothing into the only empty dryer. He turns on the machine and then steps back, looking over at you again. “So are you new to the building or new to the city?”
“The city,” you admit, beginning to move your stuff into the now empty washer.
“You have that look.”
“What do you mean?”
“Just- a lot of people here are boring, we’re not exactly known for fashion or anything like that-”
You look down at the Stitch onesie you’re wearing that you’d bought for Halloween a few years back but has since become a comfort outfit, then back up at the blonde.
“I just like your style!” he insists. “Not everyone can rock blue pajamas!”
You find yourself laughing at his sincerity, shaking your head as you grab your washer fluid to get the machine going.
“Anyways,” Jungwoo sighs. “Did you move here for work?”
“I actually work online,” you tell him. “I can work from anywhere, and I figured this would be a nice place to get out of the big city for a while- cheaper rent, more nature, that sort of thing.”
“Makes sense,” Jungwoo nods. “I’m a server at a bar just down the road.”
You take a moment, then laugh. “You seem like a server.”
“Because I’m so cute and social?” he grins.
“Definitely,” you nod, enjoying his energy.
“Anyways, I love making friends, and since you’re new to the city, I’m guessing you haven’t met a lot of people yet. If you want to be friends, I’d love to add you to my gossip roster.”
“Your gossip roster?”
“I’m a server, which means I love all things tea- except for when grandmas order actual tea in the middle of a rush, that’s the worst.”
“I’ll take your word on it,” you grin.
“So… friends?” Jungwoo asks.
You nod. “We can be friends.”
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Three:
It’s been three weeks since you moved into your new apartment, and in that time, you’ve gotten settled, and even visited Jungwoo at his bar. He’s an interesting friend, and he seems to know everything about everyone.
At first, you’d been worried about any ulterior motives he might have, as you’ve experienced many men try to make a move on you under the guise of just wanting to be your friend. But now, you realize Jungwoo’s intentions towards you are pure- or, as pure as they can be given how much gossip he consumes.
You get the sense that you’re not his type, and that’s a hundred percent okay with you, in fact, it’s a dynamic that makes you finally feel comfortable accepting an invitation to visit his apartment.
It seems all the attractive men in your building live on your floor, and as you enter his unit, you find yet another cute man standing in the kitchen.
“This is Mark,” Jungwoo introduces you. “Mark, this is y/n. Don’t worry, Lee, I’ve told her everything about you.”
“Oh, great,” Mark sighs.
It’s true, Jungwoo has divulged way too deep into his roommate’s history. You know that he’s a content creator and chef, he used to work in a prestigious restaurant, went on one of those reality cooking shows, managed to be the runner up for the first place prize despite his awkward nature, and has now been commissioned to write a cookbook focused solely on burgers (which Jungwoo has assured you is actually a broad topic despite what you might think).
You also know that Mark has a limited dating history, with a high school sweetheart who left him right before his stint on live tv, and a new crush on some barista that he’s too shy to even talk to despite the fact that he goes to her coffee shop every day just to order frothed milk with vanilla since caffeine doesn’t agree with him.
“So what’s on the menu tonight, chef?” Jungwoo asks, coming to stand right behind Mark in the kitchen.
From the way Mark clears his throat and steps back, it’s obvious to you that he’s not as comfortable about being close to people as Jungwoo is, and you find yourself enjoying this roommate dynamic already.
“I’m actually testing some stupid protein burger for muscle heads,” Mark admits.
“Aren’t burgers already high in protein since they’re meat?” you ask.
“Yes, and no,” Mark groans, “it depends. I want to have a few vegetarian and even vegan options in the cookbook I’m writing on burgers- and lots of people want high protein even in their plant based meals.” 
“So… what are your options for this burger you’re trying to create?” you enquire. 
“I’ve tried some black bean patties, chickpea patties, that sort of thing- but I’m considering making an entire two page fold dedicated to dredges and batters that you could use on a variety of burgers, meat or vegetarian. I got everything to make a protein powder infused batter, but I’m just now realizing that the protein powder I have on hand is chocolate flavoured, which really won’t work if I put it on anything, let alone a tofu burger.”
“Call Jae,” Jungwoo says simply. “That man has a collection of protein powder that would make a man on steroids combust.”
“Maybe I should just run to the store,” Mark sighs.
“You only need a small scoop of powder, right?” Jungwoo counters. “Why would you go buy an entire plain jug of protein powder when a protein head lives next door?”
“I’d hate to bother him,” the chef groans again, and you find yourself starting to realize the true depth of his social anxiety. 
“I’ll call Jaehyun,” Jungwoo states, pulling out his phone.
You take a seat at the island counter while Jungwoo makes a deal for some powder with this ‘Jae’ person, and you watch Mark fuss over other ingredients that he adds to a dry mixing bowl.
There’s a knock at the door, and then a man peaks his head inside of the apartment.
Your eyes lock and the wind is knocked from your lungs- is every hot man in the city living in your building?
“Jae!” Jungwoo yells, “come in!”
The man steps into the apartment, offering a smile, and the dimples in his cheeks practically blind you. There’s no way around it, this man looks like a model. He’s handsome, but there’s a slightly feminine softness to the angles of his face, a warmth in his eyes, and it’s absolutely captivating.
“Am I interrupting?” Jae asks as he approaches the kitchen, his eyes continuously meeting your own.
“Not at all, Mark’s just floundering as usual, and I’m hanging out with my new friend. y/n, this is Jaehyun, Jaehyun, this is y/n.” 
“Nice to meet you,” you smile.
“You too.” Jaehyun sets a tub of protein powder onto the kitchen counter next to Mark, then he turns his full attention to you again. “So how did you meet Jungwoo?”
“In the laundry room,” Jungwoo is quick to explain, and you don’t miss the exchange of glances between Jaehyun and your friend. “She’s new to the building.” Jungwoo practically winks at Jaehyun, and you get the suspicion that he’s trying to set you up with this model looking protein man.
“I love meeting new neighbours,” Jaehyun says smoothly. “What floor are you on?”
“This one, room 304.”
“No way.” Jaehyun’s eyes widen. “That’s right across from mine!”
“You’re 305?” you ask, heart beating faster in your chest.
“In the flesh,” Jaehyun grins.
“Can we move the talking somewhere else?” Mark asks quietly. “I’m trying to concentrate.”
The energy fizzles immediately, and Jaehyun nods. “I was actually just heading to the gym.”
“Of course you were,” Jungwoo rolls his eyes.
“But uh, I’ll see you around,” Jaehyun says, looking at you directly. “Welcome to the building.” 
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Four:
You suppose you shouldn’t be shocked when meeting cute men in your apartment building anymore, but you still find your breath leaving your body when you’re bringing groceries up from the parking garage only for a very cute man to enter the elevator.
He steps in and flashes you a smirk, then looks at the floor buttons. “You’re headed to three?” he asks.
“Uh huh.”
“Are you new?”
“Been here about a month.”
“Huh,” the man looks stumped for a moment. “I feel like I would have seen you. I’m Hyuck by the way.”
“y/n.”
Hyuck nods. “Are you liking the building?”
“It’s nice,” you muse, too tired from your day at the grocery store to make much smalltalk. 
“You must be… unit 304? I’m a couple of doors down, near the corner. I know someone moved out, and I heard from the building manager that someone was moving in, but fuck, I can’t believe I haven’t met you yet.”
“I can be kind of reclusive,” you joke. “I mean, I work from home.”
“Ahhh, you’re one of those girls.” Hyuck grins at you knowingly and your heart leaps into your throat.
“What do you mean?”
“Nothing,” he shrugs. “Just, you know, sometimes the cutest girls are the ones that stay in their house all day.”
“Oh.” You’re really not sure how to respond to his statement, and your eyes shift down to the floor as the elevator comes to a stop.
The two of you both turn to the left, and Hyuck walks in step with you to your door, where he stops. “What’s that?”
You’re confused for a moment, too busy fumbling with your keys, but when you look up, you realize there’s a sticky note on your door. 
“Looks like you already have an admirer,” Hyuck grins. “Was nice to meet you, we should hang sometime,” he reads. “Who do you think left this?”
You’re pretty sure it was Jaehyun who left the note- after all, the only other people you know are Jungwoo and Johnny, who both have your number, and you doubt Mark Lee of all people would be this forward. 
“I uh-” you stutter a little, swallowing thickly. “I’m not sure.”
“So are you single, or…?”
“Definitely single,” you blurt out, pushing your key into the door and clicking it unlocked.
“Definitely single,” Hyuck repeats as you push into your apartment, “I’ll keep that in mind.” 
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Five:
You’re finishing up after dinner when your phone makes a beeping sound, and you quickly pick it up, surprised to see a message from Johnny.
‘Looks like you’ve got some secret admirers, 304.’
Your stomach drops, and you realize that in your haste to enter your apartment after finding Jaehyun’s note with Hyuck earlier, you hadn’t actually removed it from your door- but wait, admirers? As in… plural? 
Tripping over yourself to get to the door, you throw it open to find not one sticky note, but two.
While Jaehyun’s initial ‘Was nice to meet you, we should hang sometime’ is still there, someone has taken the liberty to put a second note on top of it, and this one reads; ‘I’m more fun, let’s have drinks.’
It’s clear who the second note is from, and you’re quick to rip both off of your door. 
Jaehyun and Hyuck are both quite forward, and your heart is racing as you go sit on your couch, feeling conflicted.
You pull out your phone again, releasing a deep sigh as you write up a text to Johnny. ‘This apartment building is so weird.’
‘Boys will be boys,’ comes his quick response. 
Taking another breath to calm yourself, you look at the texts, and that’s when you realize, ‘I didn’t know you were back from the rigs.’ 
‘Got back a couple of days ago :)’ 
Tapping your fingers against your couch, you try to figure out how you should play this.
You’re most attracted to Johnny, but now that Jaehyun and Hyuck are so clearly demonstrating their blooming affection for you - out in the open where everyone on your floor can see - you wonder if that might throw a wrench at Johnny’s own feelings for you…
Does Johnny like you?
When he’d helped you move your things, was that just him genuinely being nice? 
You feel absolutely twisted, especially since you’ve never considered yourself the type of girl to entertain a long distance relationship…
‘So… you’re in town for a few more days?’
‘three!’ 
You definitely need to sort out your priorities. 
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Six:
You’re in need of a drink as you walk into Jungwoo’s work, taking a seat at the bar and releasing a deep sigh.
“For a girl who came to happy hour, you don’t look too happy,” Jungwoo muses as he moves to stand in front of you.
“Is it that obvious?” you laugh.
“I mean… you’re the hot new girl in 304 who has two guys fighting over you in sticky notes, I’d expect you to be a little more up beat.” 
“You saw that?” you ask in shock.
“Everyone saw it. Whoever left those notes weren’t exactly subtle… who did leave those notes, by the way?”
You let out a laugh, shaking your head at your friend’s need for gossip. “You know one of them at least.”
“Jae, I’m guessing,” Jungwoo nods. “He asked me for your number but since I’m your friend I’m not just out here handing around your personal information.”
“I appreciate that.”
“And guy number two?” he enquires.
“Some dude named Hyuck.”
An interesting expression immediately appears on Jungwoo’s face. It’s something between an ‘oooooh!’ and an ‘ooop!’ and you can’t quite place the emotion.
“What?” you ask, leaning forward. “You know him?”
“Everyone knows Hyuck.”
“They do?”
“Let’s just say…” Jungwoo’s voice lowers as he leans over the bar, “he’s a provider of things that a lot of people like to get their hands on.”
“Huh?” 
“A plug, there, you tortured it out of me, Hyuck is a plug,” Jungwoo throws his hands up as if you just twisted his arm for the information, and you stare at him blankly.
“A plug,” you repeat.
“You can’t be that innocent, babes, you know what I mean.”
You sit back in your chair, thinking it through.
So… Johnny works on a rig for long periods of time, Jaehyun is a gym rat with dimples, and Hyuck is a… drug dealer who’s not afraid to be extremely direct and combative? And they’re all your neighbours and also into you? How did you get yourself into this mess? 
“Where did you even meet Hyuck?” Jungwoo asks.
“In the elevator?”
“Why did that sound like a question?” your friend laughs.
“I don’t know! God, I’m just… overwhelmed.”
“There are worse things to be overwhelmed about, I mean… tax season is coming soon, and I don’t know how much fraud I should commit with my tips.” 
You can’t help but laugh at Jungwoo, and he’s succeeded in using humour to calm you down. 
He’s grinning at you, and he taps his hand onto the bar top. “Let me make you a drink, on me, but you’ll be paying me with gossip, deal?” 
“Deal.”
You trust Jungwoo to make you drinks by now, and he doesn’t ask what you want, he simply begins to mix a fruity concoction together. Soon, he’s setting it down in front of you and you’re taking a large gulp.
“So…” he grins. “Hyuck or Jae?”
“Are those my only options?”
Jungwoo’s eyes widen. “Spill the tea.”
“I just… I met this guy Johnny when I moved in-”
“Johnny as in super tall, blue collar, muscle man, Johnny?”
“Sounds like him,” you laugh.
“And you met him the first day you moved in?”
“He actually helped me with boxes and furniture.”
Jungwoo lets out a whistle. “Now I see why you’re overwhelmed.”
“I guess, I just don’t really know any of these guys too well. I’ve only met all of them once-”
“But you have a favourite,” Jungwoo interjects. “Johnny’s your favourite, despite his fucked up job.”
You sigh. “How could you tell?”
“I watch a lot of reality tv, in shows like Love is Blind or Singles Inferno sometimes a girl has multiple guys going for her, but the first one leaves a mark… it’s not always the case though, but it’s about that initial impact.” 
“Impact,” you repeat. “Johnny definitely made an impact… and he saw the notes from Hyuck and Jae.”
“Oooooh,” Jungwoo grins, “scandalous.” 
“But he works away for weeks at a time!”
“He’s here now,” Jungwoo points out. “So… go on a date with him, and sort out Hyuck and Jae after.”
“You think so?”
“What could be wrong about it?” Jungwoo shrugs. “Go on a date with Johnny, see how you feel- maybe he does something gross that turns you off and it makes life easier.”
“Or maybe he’s perfect and it makes things even worse,” you sigh.
“You never know until you try. Another thing from my dating shows is that no one wants to live with regrets, and I don’t think you do either.” 
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Seven:
You’d taken Jungwoo’s advice, and after two drinks at the bar, you’re home, waiting for a knock that sounds on your door.
Taking a deep breath, you fix your outfit, approaching your entry way to find Johnny standing in the hall. He looks all tall and gorgeous, in a similar laid back muscle shirt and sweats combo to the one you’d first seen him in. His hair is a little messy and damp as if he’d just come out of a shower, and the smell of his piney bodywash has you going weak. 
“Hi,” he grins. 
“Hi,” you smile back. “Uh, come in.”
Johnny nods, stepping past the threshold. “Are you a shoes off in the house kind of girl?”
“Yes, please.”
You watch him kick off his runners before turning to you. “I’m a little confused.”
“You are?”
“I got your text that you wanted me to come over, and I half expected you needed help building some cabinet or something, but then I remembered you’ve been here a month already, so now I don’t really know what I’m doing here.”
“I told you I’d buy you a beer for helping me move my stuff, remember?” You let out an awkward chuckle. “I don’t have beer, but I did open a bottle of wine.”
“That works,” Johnny grins.
“Come, sit.” You move to your living area, taking a seat on the couch. Johnny joins you, and you note the way he immediately shifts his body to be facing you. He watches you pour him a glass, and you both notice your shaky hand as you pass it to him.
“How much have you been drinking, 304?”
“A bit.”
“Rough day?” he enquires with a smile.
“Just…” you let out a deep breath. “Not used to all the attention I’m getting here.”
“Yeah, your entourage.” Johnny sips his drink, still grinning as if this is the funniest thing in the world.
“Would you believe me if I told you I’m not the kind of person who loves getting a lot of attention?”
Johnny cocks his head to the side. “I think it’s hard for a girl who looks like you to avoid that sort of thing.”
God, he is into you, you can taste it- or maybe that’s the sweet notes of your wine. 
You don’t know what to say, but you feel a grin appear on your face, your eyes shifting down to your glass. “I don’t know about that.”
“Just an observation,” Johnny laughs. “So… what are you going to do about all of this?”
“I think…” you swallow thickly. “I think I’m doing something right now.”
“Yeah?”
You look up at him, smiling. “Yeah.”
Now it’s Johnny’s turn to be at a loss for words, and you get the sense that this isn’t something that happens very often to him.
“I’m sure you know what it’s like to get a lot of attention,” you offer.
Johnny shrugs. “I’m only in town a week every month, and when I’m here I spend most of my time at the gym or at home. I’ve never been a big party guy, I prefer cheap beer to bars, and I guess I’ve just accepted that a guy like me has to be single.”
“You have to be?” you enquire, cocking your head to the side in a bid to understand him better. 
“Most girls aren’t interested in starting anything with a man who works on a rig. I understand the guys who have girls before the job, and they stay after building a foundation, but it’s hard to work on the start of a relationship when you’re not around.”
“I suppose that makes sense,” you nod- in fact, it’s something you’ve considered to great length already. “If… if the right girl came along, would that be something you’re interested in exploring?”
Johnny lets out a deep breath. “That’s a good question.” 
You watch him sip his wine, giving him the space to consider it.
“I just… I wouldn’t want a girl to feel like she’s an afterthought, or a fuck buddy- and doing the work I do, I have to be focused. It’s day rate, it’s dangerous, sometimes the rigs are a couple hours away from camp, and that’s on top of a twelve hour shift-” He lets out another deep sigh. “I think it would take a very special, very loyal kind of girl to give me a chance.”
“And what would you say your type is?”
His eyes meet yours. “I love a cute girl next door.”
Your heart thumps in your chest. “Funny, I like a boy next door.”
“Then it’s a good thing we’re neighbours.”
Johnny lifts his glass and you clink yours together, giggling.
It’s crazy how things can feel so comfortable with him already- but in the background of your mind there’s a sense of dread looming, after all, he’s leaving in just two or so days.
“Can I be honest with you?” you ask.
“Of course.”
“I’m sad you’re leaving soon.”
“I’m not leaving yet,” he points out.
“You know what I mean.”
Johnny shifts, resting his arm on the back of your couch. “I have a proposition for you, 304.”
“God, stop calling me 304,” you laugh.
“It feels like we’re interested in each other, but I get the sense you’re unsure about the long distance aspect. What if we hang out tonight, tomorrow I take you on an actual date, and if things go well, we could talk about what communication would look like when I’m away.”
“You know what?” you take a deep breath. “I would like that.”
“But… I have on condition.”
“Hit me.”
Johnny is quiet for a moment. “I’m aware that, no matter how good our dates tonight and tomorrow are, me being away might be too much for you. You have two other guys who are interested and they live here, so… even though I’m a cuddly person, I think it’s better for both of us if we keep things PG before I leave, that way… I mean, if you chose one of them because distance is too much, at least things won’t be awkward for us, and we can still be friends.” 
“I think…” - as much as you hate the idea and want to climb him like a tree - “I think that might be the most mature way to handle this.” 
Johnny nods. “So… what are your thoughts on aliens?”
“Huh?”
“UFO’s, UAP’s, USP’s-”
“What even are all of those?” you laugh.
“Unidentified flying objects, unidentified aerial phenomenon, which is pretty much another term for UFO’s, unidentified submersible phenomenon-”
You shake your head at him in affectionate shock. “Where did you learn all of this?” 
“History network,” Johnny grins. “Listen, why would I ask you surface level questions when we can dive into conspiracy theory? UFO’s are a good way to bounce into all sorts of topics, religion, politics, current and historical events-”
He’s a little odd, but you suppose you understand where he’s coming from now. You decide to give up control, and you lean into his question, loving the twists and turns that the conversation takes. You talk about everything, from the moon landing, to ancient monolithic structures and tv shows about space, a discussion about recent alien films leads to an analysis on favourite actors-
Before you even know it, hours have passed, the wine bottle is empty, and you feel as if you know him a lot better than when he’d first entered your apartment. 
“Do you work tomorrow?” he asks.
You sigh, looking at the time. “At nine.”
“I should probably get out of your hair then. When are you off?”
“Fiveish.”
Johnny stands up, stretching, and you can’t help the way your eyes move to the exposed strip of V-line when his shirt rises. “Guess I’ll see you tomorrow at fiveish, 304.”
You rise to your feet, pleasantly surprised when the gentle giant pulls you in for a hug. God, the feeling of his chest against your cheek- the soft cotton of his muscle shirt and the scent of his cologne- you release a deep breath, fully melting into what must be one of the best hugs of your life.
“I’ll text you,” Johnny says, and as he does so, his lips brush the crown of your head.
He’d said PG, and you suppose this is PG, but fuck, you want more.  
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Eight:
Out of all the possible date venues, you hadn’t expected bowling. Johnny had told you to dress casually, he’d picked you up, and taken you down to a massive black truck- he’d driven you around town, pointing things out to you, and you’d ended up at a small, underground bowling bar.
He’s a bit of a goof ball, but you can tell he’s got experience playing this game. To compensate for your lack of skills, he does all sorts of trick shots that make him miss points, and you appreciate his effort to not decimate you. 
You drink beer and chat and play, and again, it feels so natural with him. 
When the game is over, the two of you get in the truck, and Johnny says he wants to show you something. A fifteen minute drive leads you to the edge of town, on a lookout that’s perfect now that it’s dark and the small city’s lights are sparkling.
“Do you take all your dates here?” you tease.
Johnny chuckles. “Would you believe me if I told you I haven’t been on a date in a while?”
“I guess with your job, I would,” you pause, looking over at him. “Do you want to talk about it?”
The large man releases a sigh. “I had a highschool sweetheart,” he starts. “But as time went by, she couldn’t deal with me being a blue collar man. She was very corporate, and our life styles weren’t exactly a match. When she broke up with me, I switched from construction to the rig jobs, figured it would be easier to just put my head down and work. Been doing that for about six years now.”
“So you haven’t dated since highschool?” you ask in shock.
“There’ve been a couple of things here and there. Took a few summers off, had flings, but shit always hit the fan when I went back to work.” 
“That makes sense,” you nod. 
“Don’t get me wrong, I’m a family man at heart,” he assures you. “As a supervisor, I definitely make enough money to take care of the people in my life, but it’s always been a time issue.” Johnny takes a breath, and then he meets your gaze. “What about you? Any skeletons in your closet?”
“Had a couple of failed relationships, the last one inspired me to move away from my home city and come here so I guess there’s a silver lining to it. Ended things with my ex about a year ago and nothing really felt the same after that, figured a change of scenery would do me good.”
“And has it? Done you good?”
You look over at the gorgeous man sitting next to you. “Definitely.” 
It feels like the perfect moment to kiss him, and you note the way his gaze dips to your lips, but then he pulls back, letting out a sigh. “You’re dangerous.”
“Me!?” You act scandalized.
“Yes, you, little miss 304.”
You can only laugh, doing your best to enjoy the rest of your date with him while the knowledge that he’s leaving tomorrow haunts in your periphery. 
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Nine:
Johnny’s been gone for three days, and he’s been true to his word when you’d discussed communication while he’s on the rig. He’s kept contact with you, sending good morning messages for you to wake up to, and texting or calling in the late evening when he’s off work.
However, other things have progressed as well. You’d come out of your apartment this morning to find not one, but two bouquets waiting for you, and you feel as if this thing with Jaehyun and Hyuck is getting out of hand.
You find yourself at Jungwoo’s bar again, giving him the rundown on everything that has happened.
“So you’re like, set on Johnny then, huh?” your friend asks.
“I’m not sure, it’s only been three days that he’s been gone but I miss him already, and I can’t even imagine what it will be like to wait another nineteen days-”
“You always knew distance would be a struggle,” Jungwoo nods.
You groan, taking a sip of your fruity cocktail. “I just can’t believe Jaehyun and Hyuck left flowers at my door.”
“You’re going to have to do something about them.”
“Like what?”
“Reject or accept, babes,” Jungwoo says simply. 
“Accept?”
“You’re not technically dating Johnny yet. It sounds like he understands you might go on a date or two while he’s gone, I mean, you had that whole conversation about keeping things PG so it’s not awkward if he comes back and you’ve chosen someone else- it feels like he’s giving you breathing room to explore.”
You can only sigh, resting your head in your hands.
“Do you want to explore?” Jungwoo enquires. 
“I don’t know.”
“Well, you’re going to bump into Jaehyun or Hyuck sometime, so you better figure it out fast.”
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Ten:
As you’re returning from happy hour with Jungwoo, you run into your building manager. He’s a young man named Doyoung. He has a very regal look to him, and he’s as attractive as most of the men on the third floor.
He’s in the small building office, and as you walk past, he stops you.
“y/n!” he calls, waving you inside, “I’ve been meaning to talk to you!”
Your heart sinks- your payment wasn’t late, was it? Did you get a noise complaint? Your mind begins to race-
“I heard that people have been leaving notes and flowers at your door,” Doyoung tells you. “As you’re a young woman who is new to the building, I wanted to check in with you and make sure you’re not being harassed.”
Your brain short circuits- it’s one thing for Jungwoo and other people on the third floor to know about your ‘secret admirers’ but another for your building manager to be broaching the topic with you. 
“I uh,” you swallow thickly. “I’m not being harassed.”
Doyoung gives you a pointed look. “You’d tell me if you were, right?”
“Of course,” you assure him. “It’s all just playful, nothing… nefarious.”
God, you hate how proper you’re trying to sound, but how else are you supposed to explain this situation to Doyoung? 
This is so awkward, who knew moving into a new apartment would be this fucking complex? 
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Eleven:
You’re in the lobby checking your mailbox when the front door opens and Jaehyun walks in. His hair is windswept, and he looks like he’s getting back from the gym. He immediately flashes you that dimpled smile and your heart begins to thunder in your rib cage.
“Hey, you,” he grins. “Long time no see.”
“Yeah, I’ve uh… been busy,” you offer, quickly closing your mail box.
“Seems that way,” Jaehyun muses, and you realize he’s waiting to go to the elevator with you.
Taking a deep breath, you pull up your big girl panties, walking with him to the lift.
He hits the button, turning to you. “So-”
The elevator opens and you find Hyuck standing there, having just come up from the underground parkade, and suddenly you feel like a deer caught in headlights.
“Hiya, hot stuff,” Hyuck grins. “Going up?”
Part of you wants to turn and run away, but you’re in too deep now to go back, so you enter the elevator with the two men who’ve been fighting for space on your door, and maybe also in your heart.
“How’ve you been?” Hyuck asks.
“I’ve been good, just busy,” you mutter quickly, hitting the ‘close door’ button in the hope that it saves you even one second in this awkward elevator ride.
“You coming from the gym?” Hyuck’s line of questioning has taken a turn, and you realize he’s addressing Jaehyun next to you. 
“Yup, you?”
“Was just out,” Hyuck responds vaguely.
You get the sense that these two might know each other in passing, after all, you all live on the same floor, but at the same time, it’s somewhat clear from their muted interaction that they’re not particularly close.
It’s an awkward, silent minute in the elevator, but it’s even more awkward when you all get off on the third floor, with both men letting you exit first, only to struggle in a pissing match over who follows you.
They end up tracing your steps to your door, and when you get there, they both stop.
“Wait,” Hyuck breathes, and you watch him look from you to Jaehyun then back again. “You must be sticky note dude.”
“And you’re flowers guy,” Jaehyun sighs.
Both of them turn to you and it’s Hyuck who asks, “You’re still single right?”
It must be obvious to them both that if they’re warring at your doorstep, neither of them actually have your number just yet, and while it’s awkward to be put on the spot like this, you understand their confusion.
“Still single,” you assure them, fumbling with your keys. “I uh, actually have only lived here a month, and I’m still getting settled-” you search for the right words while trying not to drop your phone. “I appreciate the interest from you both, but this has gotten a little out of hand- Doyoung asked me about all of this yesterday-”
“Doyoung?” Hyuck scoffs. “What does he care if we leave notes and flowers at your door?”
“I guess he’s just concerned about my safety?” you offer.
While you can tell that Jaehyun understands, Hyuck still seems a little slow to the pick up, rolling his eyes. “As if we’d ever do anything bad.”
Which is funny, coming from a guy who’s supposedly a drug dealer.
“I think I just need some space,” you say finally, shocked by the conviction in your own voice as you slip your key into the lock. “To… you know, settle.”
“I’m sure we can give you some space,” Jaehyun offers, and you can tell from his tone that it’s a warning to Hyuck not to argue.
The plug sighs. “Yeah, we can give some space.”
They’re both very handsome, and upon different circumstances, one of them doing the sticky note and flowers trick might have swayed you, but the fact that it’s become something of a war between them has turned you off. The seriousness in Doyoung’s discussion with you yesterday had made you realize as much, and you’d be lying if you said your growing connection with Johnny didn’t have anything to do with it either.
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Twelve:
After the debacle with Jaehyun and Hyuck, you’d anxiously awaited a call with Johnny when he was done work and back at the camp. But now, as you talk to him on the phone, you hesitate about divulging in the events that took place today.
Johnny’s making an effort with you, but you can hear in his voice that he’s exhausted, and you don’t want to add pressure to his shoulders-
“Are you okay, 304?” Johnny asks.
“Hmm?”
“You’re just a bit quiet.”
“I’m thinking,” you admit with a sigh.
“Sounds intense, what’s up?”
Another deep breath escapes you. “So… remember the whole secret admirer thing?”
“Uh huh.”
“They left flowers on my doorstep a few days ago too, and Doyoung actually pulled me aside to ask me about it- he was worried I’m being harassed, and it just makes me think about, you know, being a young woman in a new city and my safety…”
You trail off and Johnny takes the opportunity to empathize, softly telling you, “Being anxious about this sort of thing is reasonable given the circumstances.” 
“It’s not that I think Jaehyun or Hyuck would ever overstep-”
“Well, they left notes, and you didn’t respond, so they left flowers, it’s not exactly a sign that they’re going to back off.”
“I guess that’s true,” you admit.
“Anyways, you were saying, about Doyoung?” 
You love how Johnny can get you back on track, and you take another deep breath to steady yourself. “I saw Jaehyun and Hyuck in the elevator today, and they both walked me to my door which was super awkward, and I guess I pretty much ended up telling them both that I needed space. Part of me wasn’t sure if I should tell you any of this, I know you’re tired after work a long day, but I guess I want to be transparent with you about everything.”
The line is quiet for a moment, and when Johnny speaks, you can tell he’s choosing his words carefully. “I appreciate you bringing it up,” he starts. “If I’m being honest, I’m a little shocked you didn’t accept either of their offers to get drinks.”
Your heart lurches in your chest. “Really?”
“Yeah, I mean, I thought I’d made it clear that I’d understand if you did-”
“Just because you’d understand it doesn’t mean I was going to do it,” you tell him.
Johnny chuckles. “I suppose that’s true. I just, I don’t know, you don’t owe me anything- and maybe you’re just not interested in either of them, but I hope you didn’t say no to them to… spare my feelings or something?”
“Well… are your feelings spared?” 
Another laugh escapes him. “I just mean to say, this wouldn’t be the first time a girl thought she could do long distance, only to get a better option in town and jump ship.”
“Maybe I’m not like the other girls you’ve dated,” you tell him.
“It’s starting to feel like you’re not.” You can hear the fondness in his voice, and it makes your heart race faster in your chest. 
“When I get one man in my head, I can’t think about another. I’m not the type to jump ship,” you explain. “You’ve given me no reason to.”
“Except the distance,” he muses.
“Even with the distance, you’ve been attentive every day, and I’ve really appreciated that. You know, some guys will live in the same city as you, take you on one date, then not talk to you for five days- you and I did two dates back to back, and we’ve been talking consistently ever since.”
“Like I said, I didn’t want you to feel like an afterthought.”
“And I don’t want you to feel like just an option.” 
The line is quiet for a moment, then Johnny laughs. “There you go, being dangerous again.”
“If being genuine is dangerous, then I’m the most dangerous woman you’ll ever meet, Johnny.”
“I work on a rig, 304, I happen to like danger.” 
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Thirteen:
You’re drinking wine with Jungwoo in your livingroom when your phone dings, and a smile spreads across your face when you see it’s a text from Johnny.
“One second,” you tell him, putting down your wine to respond to your blue collar man.
“Johnny?” Jungwoo grins knowingly.
“Yup, he’s just telling me he’s off work, but now it’s a two hour drive back to the camp.”
“So our girls’ night is over in two hours, got it,” Jungwoo jokes, except, is it really a joke if it’s true?
You can only laugh, shaking your head and setting your phone down again.
“You like him,” Jungwoo notes. “You like him a lot.” 
“I do,” you confess.
“You told Jaehyun and Hyuck off because of him,” your friend continues.
“Uh huh.” You take a sip of your wine, trying to ignore the knowing expression on Jungwoo’s face.
“So… has it gotten sexual yet? You know, asking for snaps of your tits-”
“Jungwoo!” you squeal, nearly spilling your wine as you go to gently smack his arm.
“What!? It’s a valid question!”
“No! It’s not sexual yet! I mean… I think we both have those feelings, but right now… we’re just, getting to know each other.”
“And when he’s home?” Jungwoo cocks a brow and you giggle even more.
“When he’s home…” you lower your voice, “I’m going to climb that man like a tree.”
“I knew it!” Jungwoo cheers. “Team Johnny!”
You clink your glasses in agreement, waiting for Jungwoo to settle down a little. He’s way too invested in your love life, but you kind of adore it. 
“You know…” Jungwoo trails off, “some rig guys do mostly winters, then come back for the summer and will take a couple of months off. I remember seeing Johnny more frequently last August.”
“He mentioned that,” you admit. 
“Did he say if he plans to do that this year? It’s almost March, so that’s April, May, maybe June… three or four more stints up there until a possible summer of love?”
You laugh at his choice of words, but your heart races at the notion of getting to spend your whole summer with Johnny, of a relationship of normalcy. 
“I’ll have to talk to him about it,” you decide.
“Maybe send some sexy snaps to tempt him, or talk about it once he’s home and you’ve sucked that dick, you know, incentives.”
“You’re so bad,” you giggle.
“I’m a hit of realism, which is what you need after living a fantasy for a month with three men fighting over you.”
You let out a sigh. “I suppose you might be right about that.”
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Fourteen:
“How was your day?” you ask, practically kicking your feet now that you get to talk to Johnny.
“Long,” he laughs. “You?”
“It was good, hung out with Jungwoo for a bit, had some wine.”
“I can hear it in your voice, 304, you always get extra cute when you’ve been drinking your wine.”
“Do I?” 
“See? I can just imagine you kicking your feet right now.”
God, he knows you so well already- but you suppose that’s what happens when you talk to someone for hours every day. 
“And now you probably stopped kicking your feet because you’re embarrassed,” he continues.
“You’re a psychic,” you declare.
“Sure I am.”
You take a breath. “There was actually something I wanted to talk to you about.”
“Let’s hear it.”
“So… you mentioned that sometimes you have the summer off, and I guess, since it’s almost March, I was just wondering if you’d be around in June or July.”
“I mean, I wasn’t necessarily planning on it, but if that’s something you wanted, I could see what I could make happen.”
You pause, considering your words carefully. “I don’t want to tell you what to do… and, I don’t want you to lose out on money for me, especially since we just started dating, if you even call this dating- but, at the same time, I think, long term, it would be easier to manage you going away for six or more months if I knew you’d be back for at least part of the summer.”
“I do call this dating,” Johnny tells you. “So I’ll see what I can do about it.”
“I also wanted to know when you’re flight back is, I was thinking I could come grab you from the airport.” 
Johnny chuckles. “I’ll send you the information, 304.” 
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Fifteen:
You’re waiting outside your car when you see Johnny coming out of the airport, and you simply can’t help yourself anymore. You run to him, throwing yourself into his arms.
Johnny chuckles, dropping his duffle to pull you closer, even going so far as to lift you off the ground, releasing a groan as he does so.
Fuck, he feels so good, and big, and warm-
When he sets you down, you throw inhibition out the window, grabbing the back of his neck to pull his lips down to your own.
He smiles into the kiss, his palm flattening against the small of your back, his mouth moving in harmony with your own. You kiss him deeply, pouring in all the emotion of having missed him for weeks- 
It’s you who breaks the kiss, panting and looking up at him. “Let’s get you home,” you state. 
“Whatever you say, 304.”
The drive back to the apartment complex is a blur, you’re so distracted by Johnny that you’re surprised you even make it back in one piece. The elevator ride is quiet, filled with tension, and you can practically feel happiness radiating off of both of you.
“Wanna come to mine?” Johnny suggests. “I need to have a quick shower, unpack a little.”
“Okay,” you nod, excited as you follow Johnny to his place.
He lets you in first, and you eagerly eat up what’s in front of you, looking for details of the decor that might help you know this man even better.
However, you find that his apartment is sparsely decorated, with bare necessities, a minimalist look, which you suppose makes sense given the fact that he’s hardly here.
“Your place is nicer,” Johnny muses as he kicks off his shoes. 
“It’s just more furnished,” you laugh, not minding the lack of items.
“My bedroom is this way,” Johnny explains, heading into it while you follow slowly. He throws his bag on the floor next to his bed before turning to you. “I’m going to wash up a bit, then we can do whatever you want… or, I mean, you could always join me in the shower if that works better.”
He winks at you, and it’s very playful. You can only laugh, shaking your head and feeling your skin flush with heat as you look at the ground.
“I’ll be here,” you tell him, but when he disappears into the bathroom, you find your heart is still racing.
Should you go in the shower with him? 
He had offered for you to join…
Can you be a bit more patient?
No. You can’t. As you stand in his bedroom, you begin to undress, hyping yourself up for the moment that you’ve been waiting for.
After a deep breath, you knock gently on the door to his bathroom.
“Come in!” he calls over the sound of water spray, and you peek your head into the enclosed space. 
The room is full of steam, and the glassy walls of the shower are fogged up, but you can see the outline of Johnny’s body and it has you drooling.
You slip inside, closing the door behind you before making your way to the shower.
“Can I join you?” you ask, giving him one last opportunity to decide if this was a bad idea-
“Get in here.” Johnny opens the shower door, grabs your arm and tugs you inside with him. You blink against the mist, looking up at the large man who’s currently blocking the spray of water from hitting you. “Didn’t think you’d actually join,” he muses with a grin.
“Me neither,” you admit.
Johnny strokes your arm, fingers trailing up so he can cup your face. His thumb brushes by your cheekbone and you lean into his warm touch, releasing a moan. 
“Do you want to do this here, or would you rather we wait till I can get you onto my bed?” he asks.
“Here,” you tell him. “I’m tired of waiting.”
“Didn’t take you as the impatient type,” Johnny chuckles.
“I’ve been patient, for weeks,” you laugh.
“I guess that’s true, let’s fix that.” The tall man leans down, pressing his lips to your own. You immediately wrap your arms around his strong, wet shoulders, pressing your chests together as the kiss deepens. 
You can feel your nipples hardening against him, and his hands move to grab at your hips, pulling you even tighter to his body.
Something is beginning to press against your abdomen, and you love that you’re getting him hard already, that he’s as into you as you are into him. 
His palm slips down, and he grabs a handful of your ass, squeezing deliciously. You break the kiss to throw your head back, eyes closed as you enjoy the sensation of him.
“You know the only bad thing about shower sex?” Johnny asks, lips hot against your throat now. “Water isn’t lube, so I guess you’re going to have to be a good girl for me and wait just a little longer while I get you nice and wet for me.”
“I’m already wet,” you insist.
Johnny only chuckles, squeezing your ass harder as he licks at the sweet spot on your throat. “Let me enjoy this, I’ve been thinking about it for weeks.”
“Really?” you groan. “I never would have noticed, you’re always so PG.”
“I’m not going to be PG anymore.”
“Thank god!” A shiver runs through your body at the idea of what ‘rated R Johnny’ is going to look like- and as he pushes his thigh up between your own, you’re so grateful that you no longer have to wonder, you’re about to find out exactly how dirty this blue collar man can get.
Johnny laughs again, but as he laughs, he pushes his thigh up even higher, making contact with your clit.
“Fuck, I haven’t been touched in so long,” you whimper, immediately grinding down against him.
“Well, you deserve this, you’ve been a very patient, very good girl for me.” 
“I have been,” you nod, rubbing your clit harder against his large, muscled thigh.
“Had options, but you stayed loyal, even when you didn’t have to.” Johnny’s still kissing your throat, and he nuzzles up against your ear, biting your lobe gently. “I feel like those choices have earned you many rewards.”
His words are something like praise- appreciation almost, and you’re thankful that he’s taken into account the fact that you’ve made important decisions to put this blooming relationship first, even when - as Jungwoo said - you had no actual defined loyalty keeping you tied to this tall man.
“I just like you a lot,” you moan, feeling overwhelmed with the possibilities of a relationship with this man- a man who has communicated that he’s interested in something long term, which is such a stark contrast to most of the men you deal with these days.
God, to have hope for a man again- it’s such a foreign feeling.
“I like you too, 304.”
“Johnny,” you groan, “call me something else.”
“I think 304 is cute,” he grins against your throat.
“Please?”
“Okay, baby, I’ll call you anything you want,” Johnny promises, adjusting his grip on you so he can trail his hand up your torso, putting a slight distance between your bodies now so he can cup your breast. His thumb rubs over your hard nipple and you whimper, grinding harder against his thigh. “You are a baby, aren’t you, pretty girl?”
“Yes,” you whimper.
“I could also see you as a bit of a princess,” he muses, pinching your nipple and making you gasp loudly. “Adorable little pretty princess baby.”
He might be overdoing it with the pet names, but you can’t even bring yourself to care- in fact, this overt cheesiness is doing something to you, making your pussy throb as you grind against his wet skin.
“That’s it,” Johnny groans, “I kind of want to watch you get off on my thigh.”
“Yeah?” You swallow thickly, reaching for his hard cock. You’re a little taken aback by how large he is, but you guess you shouldn’t be all that surprised. You’ve been shy so far, not even taking so much as a peek at what you’re going to be working with- and maybe that had been a mistake. You’d been so sure of yourself earlier when you’d told Johnny you could take him without prep, and now you’re realizing how wrong you had been.
A deep moan escapes Johnny as you begin to stroke him, and he rolls your nipple between his fingers, making you cry out- only for his hand to move away, along with his thigh.
You want to protest- only for two digits to press between your pussy lips, teasing your entrance but not pushing in- just playing, toying, moving up to your clit then back down.
“Fuck,” you whimper.
“You definitely feel wet,” Johnny muses.
“So finger fuck me?” you suggest, applying more pressure to his cock as you stroke him off.
“Hmm?” He circles your clit teasingly, being so gentle that your body is already practically begging for more.
“Please finger fuck me?” you ask, your free hand now clutching his forearm in desperation.
“Only because you asked so nicely.”
Johnny cups the back of your head, pulling your lips to his as his fingers enter your hot core for the first time.
Fuck, his fingers alone are enough to stretch you out and it feels absolutely delightful. 
He starts slow, testing the waters as his digits explore your inner walls gently, but as the kiss deepens so do his motions.
You’re absolutely lost in him, whimpering and moaning- your hips even begin to move, eagerly seeking out stimulus that he grants when his palm presses flat to your clit.
“Fuck,” you gasp, holding his strong, veiny forearm even tighter.
“Feels good?” he asks, looking down at you with lust filled eyes.
“Feels so good,” you nod, fighting the urge to just close your eyes and enjoy it, while also wanting to stare up at this gorgeous man who is watching you with clear interest.
You take a shuddery breath, trying to focus on stroking his cock, but he makes it more difficult when he crooks his fingers up, hitting that sweet spongy spot inside of you that has your legs shaking.
“Are you going to be able to stand through all of this?” Johnny chuckles. “That’s the other bad thing about shower sex, it’s a slipping risk.”
“I think I can do it,” you insist, not wanting him to stop his motions for even one moment.
“Just hold onto me tightly okay, but if you start to fall, uh… don’t pull my dick off.”
You can’t help the laugh that escapes you, and Johnny joins you with a chuckle of his own.
This feels so natural, so safe- the fact that you’re both giggling during your first sexual experience together is a great sign, and it makes you relax a little more, which only adds to the pleasure that’s starting to throb out from your core.
“You close?” Johnny asks, sensing the shift in your attention.
“Too close,” you nod, swallowing thickly in an effort to control yourself.
“Want you to cum on my fingers,” he tells you. “You can do that for me, right princess?”
“Uh huh.” Your mind is becoming clouded by lust, and it’s making it harder for you to respond to him-
His fingers are moving fast now, pistoning in and out of you with just the right amount of pressure, his palm stimulating your clit in a way that’s just enough-
You’re getting closer and closer to the edge and you don’t feel like slowing down. 
Your eyes close, your breathing becoming haggard as your muscles tighten with anticipation-
“Cum on my fingers, baby,” Johnny groans. “Wanna feel it.” 
With that, you explode, unable to contain yourself anymore as his filthy words vibrate through your entire being like a mantra. The pleasure is intense, your core clamping down on his digits, body throbbing deliciously as you give yourself over to the feeling of it.
Your legs are weak, and you grab Johnny’s forearm tighter, digging your nails against his skin.
It’s the kind of ecstasy that you never want to end, and it’s clear that Johnny’s not going to be the one to pull the rug out from under you. He keeps you steady, working you through your high until your legs are physically shaking.
Only once he’s sure you’re finished does Johnny pull his hand away.
You open your eyes to watch him slip his fingers into his mouth, groaning at the taste of you, and an echo of pleasure throbs through your pussy again.
“You’re so pretty when you cum,” Johnny tells you.
“Want you inside of me, now,” you respond.
“Hmmm… not yet.”
“What?” 
“You almost just fell over, I don’t think this is the safest place to do this,” Johnny laughs. “Come on, let's get out of the shower, dry off, and I’ll take you to my bed, like I’d planned.”
“Is it really that bad to fuck me here?” you whine.
“One, I don’t want you to slip, and two, I don’t want our first time to be here, you deserve a proper bed, so I can cuddle you after.” 
“You’re such a romantic,” you tease, but your heart swells at the notion of a man actually taking care of you.
“You love it,” Johnny insists.
He reaches behind himself, turning off the spray of water, then, he helps you out of the enclosed space. “Here,” Johnny passes you a towel, quickly patting himself down with his own before wrapping it around his waist, then he begins to help dry you off.
“I can do this part,” you assure him.
“I want to take care of you,” Johnny muses as his palms massage your breasts through the towel, making sure they’re extra dry.
“I think you just want to touch my tits again,” you grin.
“That too,” Johnny laughs.
“Predictable,” you toy.
“You think so?”
“Uh huh.”
In one quick motion, Johnny grabs you by the hips and lifts you onto the washroom countertop, tearing the towel away and discarding it haphazardly as he sinks to his knees.
“I think I’m going to make you cum on my tongue before I fuck you, you know, to prove how predictable I am.”
You don’t even have a moment to argue, Johnny pushes your thighs open, pulls you to the edge of the counter, and dives into your core with his tongue. 
You immediately latch onto his damp hair, throwing your head back as his mouth begins to work your pussy. You’re still sensitive from having just cum, and the sensation of his lips now wrapping around your clit has your muscles clenching with pleasure already. 
“Fuck-” you whimper, loving the way Johnny’s fingers are digging into your thighs, holding you open for a tongue that has a mind of its own.
You especially adore how messy he’s being. There are no kitten licks, no hesitancies, just a full-on lust fuelled ravaging of your core- nothing in your life has ever felt this fucking good.
You tug on Johnny’s hair roughly, but he’s unrelenting, in fact, you think he kind of likes the inkling of pain because he groans against your clit, licking at you sloppily while his nose bumps your sensitive bud over and over.
For a man who doesn’t do one night stands very often, he definitely knows his way around a pussy.
“Shit,” you moan, louder this time, your muscles tightening more and more-
You’re not used to men behaving this way with you, worshiping your body and putting your pleasure first. To have two back to back orgasms before he’s even taken anything for himself? Unheard of.
You can tell he wants you to cum, can tell that he’s eager for it, and the wet licks of his tongue against your sensitive pussy are ensuring that his preferred outcome happens sooner rather than later.
You give in to the feeling, deciding to relinquish control. If he wants to make you cum fast, then you can cum fast, and all of your attention moves to the feeling of pleasure that’s radiating out from your core.
Your abdominal muscles are tightening deliciously, and you begin to buck your hips a little, trying to ride his tongue while you hold him tight to your pussy by his hair.
Johnny groans again and the vibration of it sends a shiver of delight through your entire body.
“Fuck, I’m gonna-” You swallow thickly, brows furrowing with effort as you latch onto that feeling of euphoria, unwilling to let it drift away- “just like that, just like that-”
He sucks lewdly on your clit, flicking it with his tongue, and that’s all you need to explode, your pussy clamping down hard on nothing, squeezing and squelching sinfully. 
You’re gasping loudly, moaning like a whore as your orgasm washes over you in waves- and like your first high, Johnny is just as unrelenting with this one.
He doesn’t pull away, and with so much attention focused on your throbbing clit, it’s almost too much for you to handle.
You begin to push at Johnny’s head, but he’s like a brick wall, unmoving and diligent in his task.
“Oh my god-” your voice is raising with effort, raising with the euphoria that’s threatening to overwhelm you completely. “Johnny- too much-”
This time, he allows you to push him away, and you sink back down against the countertop, chest heaving with effort. Your legs twitch with aftershocks from your orgasm, and you can’t even bring yourself to open your eyes yet, still lost in the ecstasy he’d just provided.
“You okay, princess?” Johnny asks, and you can sense him rising to his feet, his eyes inspecting you.
“Overstimulated,” you admit, another shock washing through you and making you jolt.
“I got side tracked,” Johnny admits, and you peer out at him from under hooded lids to see him sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck.
“It’s okay, it was just a lot,” you assure him, reaching out to gently stroke his forearm. 
“Come on,” Johnny coaxes, lifting you off the sink so he can carry you to his room, “let’s give you a breather.”
He lays you gently onto his mattress, moving the blankets so you can get under the warm duvet.
The sheets smell like him, a manly pine scent, and it makes you groan, burying your face against the pillows while your brain tries to reaclimatize after a mind shattering orgasm.
Johnny joins you, and you instinctively cuddle close to his chest, delighted by the way his large arms wrap around you to hold you close.
“Just give me a sec,” you whisper, but even as the words leave your lips, your hand snakes down to his cock, and you gently wrap your fingers around the thick length.
Johnny chuckles. “Part of me thought you’d be too tired to actually fuck now.”
“Never,” you tell him, although you’re so exhausted from two extreme orgasms that there’s little conviction in the tone of your voice. 
“Take your time,” Johnny assures you, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head while you languidly stroke his large cock. Unlike in the shower, however, there’s no lubrication of any kind, and soon, you tire of it.
“Okay,” you tell him, sitting up, “I can ride you.”
“Are you sure you want to be on top?” he blinks in shock. 
“Just to start, just to get used to your size,” you assure him.
“Whatever you want, princess.”
You swing your leg over Johnny’s hips, straddling him, and his hands find your waist. 
“Actually, let me grab some lube,” he says, sitting up abruptly. The muscles in his abdomen ripple under the skin, and you’re taken aback by just how beautiful this man is even as he’s reaching for his bedside table.
He pulls out a green bottle, squirting some of the gell into his palm before he grabs his cock.
You kind of love the view of his large hand on his massive cock, stroking up and down-
“Like what you see?” he laughs.
“You’re just so perfect,” you muse.
“That makes two of us I guess,” Johnny grins. “Okay, whenever you’re ready.”
He’s all lathered up now, and you grab the base of his cock, guiding yourself down on the tip. 
As you sink down even an inch, you groan at the stretch.
He’s covered in lube, and you’re definitely more than lubricated from two orgasms, but fuck- having not had sex in ages only to take the biggest cock of your life is definitely an adjustment for your tight pussy.
“Take it slow,” he assures you, tightening his grip on your hips to keep you steady as you gently sink down further on his cock.
“I’m good, you’re just so big,” you whimper.
Johnny only chuckles at your words, his eyes fixed on the meeting of your bodies.
“Not sure I can take it all like this,” you admit.
“I’ve heard that when a girl is on top, things feel deeper,” Johnny muses. “Don’t feel like you have to take it all right now, we can work up to that.”
“Okay,” you nod, “I’m going to bounce a bit.”
“Works for me, princess.”
You close your eyes, leaning over him and placing your hands firmly on his chest as an anchor as you begin to move up and down. The feeling of his massive cock against your inner walls has your body singing with pleasure already, and you begin to moan.
“Fuck,” Johnny groans, his fingers digging into your hips. “Feels good.”
“So good,” you agree with another whimper.
One of Johnny’s hands moves from your hip to your breast, and he begins to massage the sensitive flesh as you ride him gently. The sensation of him tweaking your nipple has you groaning, your pussy clenching incredibly tight around him, which makes both of you cry out desperately.
“Fuck, let me know when you want me to take over,” Johnny tells you, and you get the sense that you might be killing him a little with the slowness of your pace. His hips twitch, and you suspect that he’s doing everything in his power not to madly thrust up into you, which is something you appreciate greatly.
You ride him for a little while longer, and then you give up, legs burning with effort already. “Okay, okay, you can top now.”
You pull off of his cock, and Johnny helps you roll down onto the bed, your back hitting the mattress.
Instead of just getting on top of you, however, he stays on his side and leans over you, pressing his lips to yours while his hand continues to massage your breast.
You groan against his lips, threading your fingers through his hair desperately as his tongue invades your mouth.
He kisses you until you’re breathless, until your pussy is pulsing with desire, only then does he get between your legs, bringing the head of his cock to your awaiting hole.
“If you ever need me to slow down, or be less rough, or anything, just let me know,” he tells you, swallowing thickly as he gazes at your body.
“Just do it, Johnny,” you assure him, stroking his forearm. “Please.”
You watch his adam’s apple bob with effort again, and he slowly pushes the head of his cock into your wet hole, making you cry out. You grip his arm tighter, closing your eyes to enjoy the stretching sensation.
He sinks into you, inch by inch, gently thrusting to get you used to the intrusion.
When he’s almost fully inside of you, Johnny leans over your body, his elbows making contact with the bed on either side of your head so he can be in something of a plank position overtop of you.
You can feel his breath on your face, and you open your eyes to look up at him, your hand moving to cup his cheek while your legs wrap loosely around his waist.
“You can fuck me now,” you tease, grinning at how slow and gentle he’s been up until this point. “Please.” 
Johnny presses his lips to yours, and just like that, he begins to move.
Each thrust is unbound pleasure, his hips moving fluidly as he gradually increases his pace. His long cock hits deep spots inside of you that have you crying out, wrapping your arms tightly around his shoulders while your tongues battle for dominance in the most heated kiss of your life.
He’s moaning too, and it sounds so good- making your pussy even wetter as he decimates it perfectly.
You love the feeling of his large body pressing down against your own, his hard muscles are delightful under your touch when you skim your hand along his shoulders.
He’s steadily increasing the power behind each thrust, and now, the bed is beginning to rock with his movements, delighting you even more.
How can this man have so much raw power, but still be so gentle and careful when it matters most?
You might be a little obsessed with him, but as his massive cock hits your g-spot, you suppose it’s no wonder your feelings are growing at a rapid pace.
He has you cock drunk, in a way that you’ve never experienced in the entirety of your life, and you kind of love it.
“Shit,” Johnny cusses, breaking your kiss so he can press his mouth to your throat. “I never- never asked about protection.”
“I’m covered,” you assure him.
“Really?”
“Yeah,” you nod, swallowing thickly. “You can cum inside me.”
A deep groan escapes Johnny, and it vibrates through where your chests are pressed together.
“Don’t want to cum like this,” Johnny tells you, “it’s too soon.”
He pulls away, and you whimper when his cock leaves your wet hole. But then Johnny is manhandling you into doggy position, and you let out a moan of pleasure, arching your back and resting your head against the bed.
“You look good like this too,” Johnny muses as he pushes his cock back into you, his hands grabbing your hips roughly. “Always look so good.”
His praise is doing something to you, encouraging you enough to make you begin to move as well, doing your best to match his pace and push back against him with each thrust.
The sound of skin on skin fills the room, and your moans mingle in the air together.
“Fuck,” Johnny groans, railing into you even harder. “So fucking tight-”
“I’m close,” you assure him, “just let me-” you slip your hand between your thighs, fingers seeking out your sensitive clit. The moment you make contact, you feel your pussy contract around Johnny’s cock, and it makes you both moan loudly.
“Yeah, want you to cum with me,” Johnny tells you. “Want us to cum together.”
You don’t respond, too focused on your task as you begin to draw small circles around the sensitive bud.
God, nothing has ever felt this good, to be so completely full, while your clit is receiving attention at the same time-
The tension is quickly building in the pit of your stomach, and it’s clear to both of you that you’re rapidly approaching the edge-
“Here,” Johnny’s voice distracts you, and all of the sudden he’s hauling you onto your knees, pinning your back to his chest with an arm braced across your breasts, one hand cupping your boob like a seatbelt. You can feel his breath on your throat, and you quickly turn your head, seeking out his lips with your own.
His free hand pushes yours aside from your clit, applying even more pressure to your sensitive bud as he fucks into you erratically.
God, you feel him absolutely everywhere. You feel like a doll, suspended in time and space while this absolute unit of a man gives you all of the pleasure you could ever ask for, pulling at your strings like an expert.
He’s groaning more deeply- and with one more rough circle of your clit, you feel yourself come undone. You gasp against his lips, core clamping down on his cock-
A strangled sound escapes Johnny, his thrusts becoming even more erratic as he cums with you, coating your throbbing insides with his cum as you both fall off the edge together.
He’s clinging to you in a way a man has never clung to you, and you’re kissing him as if he’s the air you need to breathe. In this moment, it’s only you and him and this feeling of euphoria that you never want to give up.
He fucks you through your high until you’re both a panting mess, and then, he helps you back onto the bed, taking a deep breath.
“I’m going to go get some tissues,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your cheek.
You can only moan happily, inhaling the scent of pine as you cuddle against his pillow.
Johnny returns shortly, and he hands you some tissues to wipe his cum from your core.
“Should we take another shower or something?” Johnny asks, laughing a little at how messy you both are.
“Cuddles first,” you tell him.
Johnny grins, joining you on his bed, his strong arms immediately wrapping around you. “Cuddles first,” he agrees.
You both take deep breaths, and as your body begins to calm down while pressed against his, you know you made the right choice of man in this fucked up, love island-esque apartment complex that you now call home.
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☀️ mlist + an. thank you for reading! This was way longer than I intended, which is why it took a minute to be posted, but I hope it was worth the wait!
🍭 support me by. sending a tip here or here - or become a patron to access monthly bonus content and extensions for fics like this one :) find the Patreon teaser below! 
🔮 preview.  In the summer, Johnny’s not just a blue collar rig man, he’s a dude with friends, tanned skin from his obsession with the sun, and a taste for margaritas while sitting on boats between water skiing stints.
cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, use of toys, vibrator, nipple clamps, overstimulation, breast worship, use of lube, inklings of pain kink, hand job, fingering, multiple reader orgasms, etc…   I petnames. (hers) princess
👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.8k I teaser wc. 100
🌙 starring. Johnny x afab!Reader
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bonus
People sometimes talk about a specific summer in their life being ‘the summer of dreams,’ and you never quite understood what could make one stretch of months so significant- but now, living life with Johnny by your side every day, it makes total sense.
In the few months you’ve been dating, he’s done his best to introduce you to friends, but with such a short time in town, it was always difficult to juggle friends, family, and your growing relationship.
Now that it’s summer, you get to see how Johnny is when he’s just being himself.
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☀️ to read the full fic AND 2.8k bonus NOW, subscribe to my Patreon, then click here
👹 or check out what else is on my patreon here
🔮if nothing strikes your fancy, check out my m.list
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general taglist
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ariichive · 4 months ago
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WHITE DAY 。゚•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱
celebrating white day with the man who’ll do anything for you <3
cw: gen. neutral reader, fluff, established relationship, moze is a bit weird, sliiiight possessiveness, astral express sunday, kissing, lmk if i missed anything :)
boothill, aventurine, jing yuan, mydei, anaxa, sunday, moze, and phainon 。゚•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• 。゚
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boothill ᯓᡣ𐭩
you giggled as boothill led you through the empty, infamous clock studios theme park. "this can't be allowed," you whisper-shouted at him, who had a ginormous grin.
boothill, however, only flashed you that devil-may-care grin of his, tipping his hat back as he casually strolled forward, seemingly not bothered by the rules—or the late hour. “aw, darlin',” he drawled, looking over his shoulder at you, “ain’t no harm in a lil’ late-night stroll. the park’s still runnin’. they got their folks takin' care of the rides, but they ain't watchin' every corner.”
you shot him a disbelieving look, glancing around at the still-bustling park—there were still families and groups laughing, enjoying the remaining hours. but with how boothill had his hand around yours, there was no turning back.
“boothill, there’s security everywhere. we’re gonna get caught.”
“nah,” he said, a wink thrown your way as he led you further into the park. “what makes you think they can catch us? you just gotta know where to go and when to disappear.”
“and you know where to go?” you said, trying to sound incredulous, but you couldn’t hide the excitement rising in your chest.
“oh, darlin’, i’ve been around these parts enough to know where the real fun happens after hours. all the good stuff happens behind the scenes,” he said, eyes gleaming with mischief. “we’re just gonna skip the line and see the real show.”
it was a known fact boothill was a wanted man; ipc and other factions wanted his head.
you laughed, shaking your head. “you’re absolutely insane. this is—”
“fun?” he finished for you, smirking as he pulled you toward one of the smaller, quieter corners of the park, away from the main attractions. “that’s exactly what it is. don’t let the suits and tie-wearin’ folks fool you, sugar. there’s always something hidden behind the curtain.”
you followed as he led you down a narrow, slightly hidden path between the many gift shops and food stands. there were fewer people here, and the sounds of the park seemed a little more distant. a quiet buzz lingered in the air, one that made your heart race with anticipation.
“what are you planning?” you asked, your voice low now, the playful tone taking on a hint of curiosity.
“i’ve got some connections ‘round here. places they don’t show the public. places you might not expect.” boothill's grin was unrelenting, his eyes scanning the area, like he was constantly on the lookout, always one step ahead.
you furrowed your brow. “so we’re sneaking into some secret area where nobody goes?”
“exactly,” he said, his voice dropping to a quieter, more dangerous tone. “and you’re gonna love it. it’s the part of clock studios they never show—the real behind-the-scenes stuff. think of it as a treasure hunt, sugar.”
you swallowed hard, feeling that familiar rush of adrenaline you got whenever boothill pulled you into one of his schemes. “and what’s the treasure?”
boothill sent you a smile, one that was more gentle than the previous ones. "you just gotta see for yourself. just a lil' somethin' to show you how much i enjoy spendin' time with ya.”
you raised an eyebrow. "oh really? and what makes you think i want a date in the middle of clock studios at this hour?"
boothill grinned wider, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "because i know ya, darlin'. you got a wild streak in ya. and i can tell you like a bit of adventure—so i figured we'd skip all the usual fancy stuff and give ya a night you'll never forget."
you snorted softly at his confidence. “well, i’m curious, i’ll give you that.”
he didn’t answer right away. instead, he led you down the winding path, eventually reaching a large, circular room lit by soft lanterns hanging from the ceiling. as the door closed behind you with a soft click, you took in the scene before you.
there, in the middle of the room, was a cozy little table set for two. delicate white candles flickered on the table, their soft glow casting dancing shadows across the walls. the table was covered with a cloth, and on it, there were plates of food, wine glasses, and a single rose in the center.
your breath caught in your throat. “boothill... is this...?”
“yep,” he interrupted, chuckling. “a lil' somethin’ special just for you. dinner in the heart of clock studios.” he motioned for you to sit down. “now, don’t be shy. i reckon you’ll like it here. no crowds, no distractions, just you, me, and some damn fine food.”
you shook your head, still trying to wrap your mind around the situation. “this is... unbelievable. you really planned all this, didn’t you?”
“sure did,” he said, pulling out the chair for you like a gentleman. his usual rough demeanor was softened by the genuine care in his eyes. 
you squeezed his hand, your heart beating a little faster as you looked into his eyes. "this... this is perfect, boothill. thank you."
“anything for you, sugar,” he replied, his smile softening as he poured the wine. “anything for you.”
aventurine ᯓᡣ𐭩
"w-what the—"
when you woke up, you were met with an eerie sight. two beady eyes stared back at you from the foot of your bed, gleaming in the dim light. your breath caught in your throat as you turned to the side, only to be greeted by another pair of eyes—this time from the nightstand.
you froze, unsure whether you were still caught in a strange dream or not.
then, hurried footsteps approached, the blinds were thrown open, and bright daylight poured into the room, revealing the full scope of the situation.
the room was filled with them—hundreds of teddy bears. stuffed animals of all sizes, arranged in perfect rows, surrounding your bed. their stitched eyes all seemed to glisten with an unsettling lifelike quality, staring at you from every angle.
“a-am i still dreaming?” you whispered, unsure whether you could still trust your senses.
you shut your eyes tightly, squeezing them shut in a vain attempt to block out the madness. but when you opened them again, the bears were still there, their beady eyes gleaming.
before you could say anything else, a voice that was too calm for the situation echoed through the room.
"not exactly the reaction i was going for. how unfortunate."
you snapped your head toward the window, finding the source of the voice: your lover, aventurine. he stood there, leaning against the window frame with his arms crossed, a slight smirk tugging at his lips as he observed your shock.
you exhaled a breath of relief—at least he wasn’t part of the teddy bear invasion. his gaze, filled with gentle amusement, was the only familiar thing in the room that grounded you in reality.
“aventurine...” you trailed off, still trying to process what was happening.
“yes, yes, i know.” he straightened up, stepping into the room, his voice smooth as always. “you were probably expecting something a bit more romantic, were you not? perhaps a flower delivery or a candlelit dinner?” he gave a dramatic sigh. “but no, instead, you get this."
his arms gestured around the room, and you couldn’t help but blink at the absurdity of it all.
“what... what is all this?” you asked, your voice wavering with confusion.
"well, my dear, some would see it as a heartwarming gift from their lover. but, i bet you see it as more of a... heart attack."
"i wanted to do something memorable." he looked down at the stuffed animals thoughtfully before letting out a soft laugh. “i suppose, after all the chaos, the gesture doesn’t quite come across as I intended.”
you took in the various different bears, realizing how cute most of them were. you smiled softly, knowing he had good intentions. "it's cute, that one has the same glasses as you." you pointed to one perched on a high shelf.
"ah, not the same glasses, i'm sure those didn't even cost half as much as mine," he flaunted confidently, "but yes, quite similar."
you rolled your eyes affectionately but couldn't hide the smile on your face as you looked at him. “you’re unbelievable.”
“ah, but you love me for it, don’t you?” he teased, his voice warm as he leaned in closer.
you couldn't help but laugh softly, reaching up to gently cup his cheek. "i do, more than you'll ever know."
his expression softened, and for a moment, the ridiculousness of the situation melted away, leaving just the two of you—surrounded by stuffed animals, but wrapped in a moment of shared warmth.
"well, then," aventurine said, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, his hand lingering on your cheek. "i’d say this surprise was a success after all."
"for you, maybe." you smiled, leaning in to kiss him. "but next time, let’s go for something less... beady."
he laughed, pulling you closer, his arms wrapping around you as he kissed your forehead. "i’ll take that into consideration, love."
jing yuan ᯓᡣ𐭩
it was normal for you to wake up before jing yuan. often, the man would cling to you and mutter 'five more minutes' before falling back asleep for another hour, giving you enough time to get ready and out the door before he wakes. his warmth was always a comfort, his breath soft and steady against your skin. you could feel his arms tighten around you in his sleepy, possessive way, a silent plea for you to stay in bed with him.
this morning, however, something felt a bit different. his usual murmurs didn’t come, and when you turned your head to look at him, you noticed that jing yuan was already awake, his amber eyes watching you intently.
“you’re up early,” you murmured, your voice still thick with sleep.
he gave you that half-smile of his, the one that always made your heart flutter. "couldn't sleep," he said, his tone low and a little too smooth.
"really? that's kinda hard to believe," you said jokingly as his hand found comfort at the top of your head, stroking you gently.
“you know i always get up first,” you said softly, glancing at the clock.
“yes,” he replied with a lazy grin, but there was a flicker of something deeper in his eyes—something that made your chest tighten. “but i was enjoying the rare moment when you’re still here with me."
you smiled, though a part of you couldn’t help but notice how tightly he was holding onto the bed sheet, how his hands lingered on you just a little longer than usual.
"how about we get up together?" you suggested, teasing him with a gentle nudge.
he sighed dramatically, but then his hands pulled you back toward him, his body pressing against yours with a sense of finality. "i don't want to," he murmured, his voice almost childlike. "you're all i need right here."
his words sent a flutter through your heart, and you couldn’t help but melt into his embrace.
"do you wish to help me tend to my garden today?" he said gently, continuing to caress you. he was on the brink of falling back asleep.
you hummed softly, feeling the warmth of his touch, the tender way his fingers ran over your skin. the thought of spending the day with him, surrounded by the scent of fresh flowers and the quiet peace of the garden, sounded perfect.
"i would love to," you replied quietly, your eyes closing as you leaned further into him, letting yourself feel his presence. "but only if you promise not to drag me out there too late."
jing yuan chuckled, the sound low and soothing. "i’ll make sure we take it slow, just like now. no rushing." his hand slid to your back, pulling you closer, his lips brushing against the top of your head. "we’ll spend the whole day there if you want. just the two of us."
you smiled, a sense of calm settling over you at his words. it was always the simple moments with him that made you feel the most at ease, and the thought of being by his side while surrounded by the beauty of nature felt almost too perfect to be real.
"you make it sound so perfect," you murmured, resting your cheek against his chest. "i think i could get used to this."
"good," he said, his voice low, almost a whisper. "because i’m not letting you go anywhere today." he tightened his hold on you, but it wasn’t suffocating—it was comforting, a reassurance that you were his, and he was yours.
"i’m not going anywhere," you whispered back, feeling your heart beat in sync with his. "not when you make staying so easy."
he gave a content sigh, his lips pressing gently to your head. "i promise [name], you'll forever live easy with me by your side."
moze ᯓᡣ𐭩
moze dragged you into another dark alleyway, hand over your mouth. he brought his lips close to your ear, "i walked by them thirty-eight days ago around this time." he whispered gently as he glared at the couple the two of you were watching.
"this is my third time following them since, and not once has the man noticed," he tsked in disapproval.
you bit his hand gently, causing him to let go of the hold he had on your mouth. "so... why drag me into this?"
"do you not find joy in following around such ignorant people?"
you thought about his question for a second, truly thinking it over. well, it would probably be entertaining.
you decided to let him have his fun for the day. besides, this was practically a date.
"a filthy man like him does not have what it takes to be in a relationship." he continued to mutter more to himself, a dark shadow casting over his face.
you glanced at him, feeling a shiver of both unease and excitement crawl up your spine. there was something magnetic about moze, his dark intensity and sharp observations always keeping you on edge, but also pulling you in. you couldn't deny the thrill of being part of whatever strange little world he inhabited.
"you really hate him, don't you?" you asked, your voice low, trying to keep your amusement from showing too much.
moze didn't respond right away, his eyes never leaving the couple as they walked past the alley. he seemed to be weighing his words carefully. finally, he let out a quiet, almost inaudible sigh. "it’s not hate," he said slowly. "it’s... disappointment."
you raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "disappointment?"
"yes," he muttered. "people like him don't understand the weight of commitment. they wear their affection like a mask, pretending to care, when they don't even know what it means to truly invest in another person." his voice dropped to a near growl. "they’re fools. dirty fools.”
you tilted your head, studying his profile. there was a certain calm, almost cold certainty in his words, and you couldn't help but feel drawn to him in a way that made your heart race.
"and what about you, moze?" you asked, your voice teasing. "do you know what it means to truly invest in someone?"
he turned his gaze to you, his eyes sharp and calculating. for a moment, he didn’t speak, just studying you with an intensity that made your breath catch in your throat.
"i followed you for over a month before our first interaction. during that time, i learned all your favorite foods, hobbies, and even your favorite book."
he ended your question at that.
"you... actually, i'm not that surprised."
moze didn’t smile. his expression remained unreadable, though there was a quiet satisfaction in his eyes as he watched your reaction.
"i told you," he continued, his voice low and steady, "i invest in the details. when something interests me, i pay attention." he stepped a little closer, his presence filling the space between you. "and you, [name], have intrigued me from the moment i laid eyes on you."
"oddly enough, you're such a romantic in your own, moze way."
he hummed in approval, gently taking your hand in his. "if you prefer, we could find a different activity. i simply wanted to spend time with you on an excursion that wasn't dangerous."
"we could go for a walk," he continued, his tone thoughtful. "a peaceful one. no hiding, no stalking, just... time spent together." his words held an edge of something deeper, as if the suggestion itself was a rare offering from him.
you were taken aback. moze, the man who had watched you from the shadows, who seemed to find thrill in the darker aspects of life, was now offering something simple, almost mundane. it was a side of him you hadn't seen before, and it made you wonder what else lay hidden beneath his carefully crafted exterior.
you hesitated for only a moment before nodding. "alright," you said, voice soft but steady. "let’s see how that goes."
moze gave a small, approving smile, the flicker of warmth in his eyes making you feel like you were the only person in the world. "good," he said, his voice carrying a note of satisfaction. "then let’s enjoy the day."
mydei ᯓᡣ𐭩
"this one's really good," you said as mydei fed another home made pastry to you. he hummed, deep in thought as he took mental note of all the flavors you seemed to like thus far.
"figured you would like the freshness of the strawberry and sweetness of the chocolate." he held another chocolate covered strawberry up to your mouth, which you ate without hesitation.
you smiled at him, feeling the sweetness linger on your tongue. "you know me too well," you said with a playful grin, leaning back slightly as you rested against the plush cushions. "but seriously, these are amazing. when did you even have time to make all of this?"
mydei chuckled softly, his eyes softening as he looked at you. "i make time for things that matter," he replied, his voice low and warm. he was always like this—calm, thoughtful, and careful with you. "besides, watching you enjoy it is worth every second."
you raised an eyebrow, your heart fluttering a bit. "you're so sweet," you said, though you weren't sure if you meant the pastry or him.
"i try," he said with a teasing smirk before reaching for another treat, "but if i'm honest, i think you’re the one who's sweet. i just… enhance it."
his words made a gentle warmth spread through you, and you found yourself leaning closer to him, almost instinctively. "enhance it?" you repeated with a small laugh. "that’s one way to put it."
"well, i’m not one to leave things half done." he smiled, his gaze flickering to your lips for just a moment before returning to your eyes. "and you, my [name], deserve more than half of anything."
"you're spoiling me," you said with a soft laugh, unable to stop the smile tugging at your lips. "but i don’t mind."
mydei’s eyes softened, a gentle smile curling at the corners of his mouth. "i’m happy to spoil you, [name]," he said quietly, his voice low, almost like a secret shared between the two of you. "you deserve it."
"who would've thought the prince of kremnos was such a sweetheart?" this time, it was your turn to take a sweet delicacy and being it up to his mouth.
mydei raised an amused brow at your gesture but didn’t hesitate to accept the treat, lips brushing ever so slightly against your fingertips as he took a bite. his golden eyes flickered with something unreadable, something almost dangerous, as he chewed slowly, savoring both the taste of the pastry and the moment between you.
"only for you," he murmured after swallowing, voice dipped in something almost intoxicating. "i don’t make a habit of spoiling just anyone."
you felt a warmth crawl up your neck, but you held your ground, refusing to let him fluster you so easily. "oh? so i should consider myself lucky then?" you teased, though there was a genuine curiosity beneath your playful words.
mydei chuckled, low and rich, resting his chin in his palm as he studied you. "very lucky," he answered, his gaze never wavering. "because once i decide someone is mine, i don’t let go."
phainon ᯓᡣ𐭩
phainon had been gone for a few days, his whereabouts unknown to you. it was extremely worrying, especially since he stopped answering his teleslate.
as the days passed, you found yourself staring out the window, lost in thought. the only thing that kept you going was the belief that he would return, that he had a reason for being gone, no matter how hard it was to wait.
then, one evening, as the sky burned in hues of blue, a soft knock at the door pulled you from your thoughts. you froze. for a moment, you thought you had imagined it. but then, there it was again—a gentle, familiar rhythm.
your heart pounded as you hurried to the door, your hands shaking slightly as you reached for the handle. when you pulled it open, your breath hitched.
phainon stood there, his clothes dusted with travel, silver strands of his hair catching the evening light. despite the exhaustion lining his features, there was a soft smile playing at his lips, his eyes warm as they met yours
“you look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he teased, though there was a gentleness in his voice.
“you—” your voice caught, a mix of relief and frustration bubbling up. “where have you been?! do you have any idea how worried i—”
before you could finish, he lifted his hand, revealing a small, elegantly wrapped box. “i know, i know. and i’m sorry,” he murmured. “but i had to find this.”
your frustration faltered as your eyes fell on the box. carefully, you took it from him, untying the ribbon with hesitant fingers. as the lid lifted, a soft gasp escaped your lips.
nestled inside was a necklace unlike anything you had ever seen. its chain was delicate, shimmering like bright stardust, and the pendant—a gemstone that seemed to shift colors under the fading sunlight, like the twilight sky itself trapped in crystal. it was breathtaking. if you had to guess, he had found the luxurious gem and then had it made into a necklace.
“phainon…” your voice was barely above a whisper.
"it's a necklace from aedes elysiae, well... what's left of it." he mumbled the last part more to himself.
a once glorious civilization, a place that most believed never existed, spoken of only in half-whispered legends, it was a remnant of beauty and tragedy.
you looked back at him, eyes wide. "you went... back there?"
phainon gave a small shrug, but there was something distant in his gaze. “i had to.” his fingers brushed over the lid of the box before retreating. “the place was beyond repairable, not a single structure in sight. but even in its ruins, i knew there had to be something... anything left worth saving.”
your fingers curled around the necklace, feeling the cool weight of it against your palm. "but why go so far? why risk it?"
he let out a quiet breath, gaze flickering away for a moment before settling back on you. “because i wanted something as rare as you. something that carried the weight of history, of stories untold. something that—” he hesitated, his voice dropping lower, “—would remind you of me, even when i’m not around.”
your chest tightened, a rush of warmth blooming in your heart.
carefully, he reached forward, taking the necklace from your hands and stepping closer. his fingers brushed against your skin as he clasped it around your neck, his touch lingering just a second longer than necessary.
"it suits you," he murmured.
your fingers ghosted over the pendant, the weight of it somehow comforting. "you really..." you started, unsure of what to say. there was so much—gratitude, relief, something deeper you couldn’t quite name.
he smiled, a small, knowing curve of his lips. “no need for words.”
but even so, as the evening light cast long shadows around you both, you knew that this moment—this gift, this feeling—would stay with you forever.
anaxa ᯓᡣ𐭩
anaxa was never one to partake in festivities that landed on the calendar. that, however, changed when he started dating you. it was almost irritating how mushy you made him feel.
which he made it known, never one to shy away from his feelings of devotion to you.
"these flowers were grown by me by hand. it seems it was useless to try to create something that matches your beauty."
your fingers curled around the stems of the flowers, holding them close to your chest as you let the warmth of his words settle in. anaxa was never one for grand displays of affection, but the way he showed his devotion—subtle, unwavering, and entirely sincere—always left you feeling breathless.
"you act like you’re forced to say these things," you teased, looking up at him with a playful glint in your eyes. "but i think you secretly enjoy being this romantic."
he scoffed, his expression remaining unreadable, but the way his fingers twitched at his sides betrayed him. "enjoy is a strong word," he muttered. "i simply refuse to be inadequate when it comes to you."
you chuckled, shaking your head as you reached out, looping your arms around his neck. "you’re terrible at hiding how much you love me, you know that?"
anaxa let out a small sigh, his hands settling at your waist, pulling you in until there was barely any space left between you. "if you already know, then i see no reason to deny it," he admitted, his voice quieter this time, almost as if the words were meant for you and you alone.
he leaned in, his forehead gently resting against yours. "besides, if it makes you happy, then i don’t mind indulging in a little sentimentality."
your heart skipped a beat at his words, and you couldn’t help but smile. "just a little?"
he exhaled, shaking his head. "fine. a lot," he conceded, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple.
you held onto him a little tighter, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your fingers. "then i guess i’ll just have to make sure you keep indulging me," you whispered against his skin.
anaxa hummed, tilting your chin up with a single finger before capturing your lips in a slow, deliberate kiss. "you never had to ask."
you pulled away with a smile, remembering the flowers in your hand. "say, i never took you much as the gardening type."
"you humor me, gardening is an essential part of science and understanding the reality of this world. it would be foolish of me to be clueless."
you chuckled, twirling one of the blossoms between your fingers. "of course, trust you to turn something as simple as flowers into a lecture."
anaxa scoffed, but there was a glint of amusement in his eyes. "if you listened more closely, you'd see there's value in my words." he reached out, plucking the flower from your grasp and tucking it carefully behind your ear. "besides, these were grown with a purpose. for you."
your teasing smile softened at his words, fingers brushing over the delicate petals. "so, you really did all this just for me?"
"obviously," he replied, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
"you’re so—" you started, but he cut you off, tilting your chin up so your eyes met his.
"so what?" he asked, voice low, gaze intense.
you swallowed, suddenly hyper-aware of the warmth of his fingers against your skin. "so… good to me."
a rare, almost smug smile graced his lips. "i would hope so," he murmured, leaning in just enough for his breath to tickle your lips. "it would be unacceptable otherwise."
sunday ᯓᡣ𐭩
it wasn't known to most how much of a sweet tooth sunday truly had. when he was still known as the head of the oak family, he never had time to induldge in sweet treats.
on the astral express, however, was a different story.
the party car had something special, something amazing.
"shush" was its name.
sunday had quickly discovered that the little automaton, despite its strange way of speaking, was an invaluable source of sweets. and the best part? you would often come by to enjoy a treat with him.
"another?" "shush" asked in its usual monotone, holding up a plate of intricately decorated pastries. "you have already consumed three. should i prepare an intervention?"
sunday smirked, reaching for a sugar-dusted tart. "should i prepare an intervention for your terrible sense of humor?"
"shush" whirred, as if contemplating its response. "humor analysis... failed. please consume more snacks to compensate."
he chuckled, sinking into one of the plush seats as he took a bite. the caramel filling was rich, the crust perfectly flaky. he exhaled through his nose, savoring the taste.
“so this is where you’ve been hiding.”
before sunday could speak, "shush" did for him. "sunday is a frequent patron. valued customer. concerning sugar intake."
sunday sighed, setting his pastry down with a faint shake of his head. "i do believe i liked you better when you weren’t so talkative." sunday turned his attention back to you. "come, sit with me [name]."
you wasted no time to take a seat next to him.
"i trust you’re not here simply to watch me indulge," he mused, reaching once more for his half-finished pastry. "if so, i must insist you partake as well. it would be unfair otherwise."
“how could i deny such an offer?”
you picked up a small, delicately frosted cake from the tray between you, twirling it between your fingers before taking a tentative bite. it was light, airy, dissolving sweetly on your tongue. sunday watched your reaction carefully, the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips.
"good, isn’t it?"
you nodded, swallowing before answering. "i suppose i can see why you keep coming back here."
sunday hummed in quiet amusement, taking another slow sip of his tea. "there is something rather charming about the simplicity of it all, isn’t there?" he mused, almost to himself. "a moment of quiet, a pleasant treat... a rarity, once upon a time."
his voice carried something wistful, something almost unspoken. you wondered if he realized how much his words revealed.
"then you should enjoy it as much as you can now," you said softly. "you deserve that much, don’t you?"
sunday looked at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. then, slowly, he smiled—just a small, quiet curve of his lips, but warm all the same.
"perhaps," he murmured, fingers grazing the edge of the teacup. "and if that is the case… would you care to indulge with me a little longer?"
there was something about the way he said it, so effortlessly graceful, yet sincere. an invitation not just to share another dessert, but to share this moment, fleeting as it was.
and as you reached for another pastry, you decided—perhaps you would stay a little longer after all.
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pathologicalreid · 5 months ago
Text
too violent for tears | s.r.
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in which you get a Secret Service agent assigned to you after receiving a threat against your life (Spencer is less than thrilled)
who? spencer reid x fem!reader content: angst content warnings: death threats, jealous/protective!spencer, blood, guns, snipers, emetophobia warning, anxiety, trauma/shock. word count: 3.53k a/n: this was supposed to be like 1k, not sure what happened there.
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You were tapping the toe of your shoe against the carpeted floor in the elevator, the fibers stomped down by FBI agents over the years. When the door dinged, Felix, your newly assigned Secret Service agent, nudged you behind him, leading the way out of the elevator and to the bullpen.
Giving a wave to the familiar face who held the door open to you, you and your escort quickly garnered the interest of the BAU. Members had started trickling out for the day, but the A-team was still around. The last to leave, as always.
Your boyfriend was flipping through a book when he glanced up to see you, his expression softening at your arrival but morphing into confusion when he noticed the well-dressed man who would under no circumstances let you walk in front of him. Instead, you followed him single file until you could lean up against Spencer’s desk. “Hey,” you greeted him casually, hoping he’d ignore the six-foot former football player standing in his midst.
He peered up at Felix, sizing him up before rising to his feet, “Who’s your friend?”
“I’m borrowing a member of the president’s goon squad,” you offered, half-heartedly trying to make a joke.
Shifting on your feet, you watched as the two men reached across the desk between them and shook hands. “Agent Felix Sheffield, United States Secret Service. I’ve been assigned to Miss Y/L/N’s detail for the foreseeable future.”
“Detail?” Spencer responded quizzically, raising a brow at you as if to say What the hell is he talking about?
Your shoulders slumped forward helplessly. “You didn’t answer your phone when I called,” you tried to explain yourself. In your defense, you’d called his cell three times before deciding to put it off.
Knowing Spencer, his cell was probably buried somewhere, covered by enough papers and pens to fully muffle the sound of your ringtone. “What is going on?” He asked, glaring at your assigned agent as if he was the enemy.
“So, I was checking my email this morning, and I found an email that made me laugh, so I showed it to my boss, and it turns out it’s a death threat, and they take that stuff seriously,” you told him, your voice fading to a whisper toward the end. Even with your hushed tone, you felt the eyes of every member of the BAU train on you. To your embarrassment, Hotch and Rossi were now peeking out of their respective offices, trying to see what was going on.
Spencer’s eyes shifted to you. “You showed a death threat to the White House Press Secretary because you thought it was a joke?”
“Actually, she showed it to the Chief of Staff,” Felix interjected, playing the devil’s advocate.
You frowned at the Secret Service agent. “Aren’t you supposed to be on my side?”
“I’m just supposed to keep you safe,” he clarified, nodding as if he was proud of himself. He smoothed out his suit jacket, fixing the button before he looked back to Spencer. “Don’t worry, I’ve got her.”
Spencer crossed his arms in front of his chest, straightening up and staring Felix down. “Well, you don’t need to stick with her while she’s here,” he said, adjusting his suit jacket so his firearm was visible.
Felix tilted his head to the side. “I have orders.”
You took a step back, wary of the turf war that was beginning—over you, no less. “Hey, guys—”
“I understand that,” your boyfriend interrupted, “but your UnSub isn’t going to get in here.”
The invading agent gave Spencer a dubious look. “No one armed has ever gotten in here when they weren’t supposed to?”
You cringed, recalling a few stories Spencer had told you about people in the bullpen, including an incident where the glass door needed to be replaced. “I’ll keep her safe,” Spencer assured him.
He didn’t like that answer. “My orders are not to leave her unless she’s safe inside her home.”
“And when I go to the bathroom, hopefully.” You tried to get yourself back into the conversation, but the two men had resorted to glaring at each other.
You glanced over your shoulder, sending a pleading look to JJ, but she didn’t seem any more ready to jump in than you were.
Mercifully, Felix’s phone rang just when you thought he was going to break. You took the opportunity to get closer to Spencer. “I thought you guys were seconds from breaking out the ruler.”
“What?” Spencer asked, furrowing his brows.
You shook your head. “Nothing. Hey, it’s just an email, but they have to take this stuff seriously. I was visible in a briefing today, and people had things to say.”
Spencer didn’t respond, waiting for you to elaborate on the content of the email you received.
Swallowing thickly, you shifted on your feet as you recalled the message that you would not soon forget. “I just… we made a statement about the NRA, and they took it personally. Sent some photos of a rifle and what they wanted to do to me,” self-consciously, you pulled your jacket tighter around yourself. “People get, uh, creative,” you told him, though you were sure it wasn’t new information to him.
Spencer looked pale, but if he had any concerns, he didn’t voice them to you. He didn’t have time because once Felix was off the phone, he was back to torment him. “I definitely recognize you from somewhere,” he said, pointing at Spencer with his cell phone.
Hesitantly, you sat down on the edge of Spencer’s desk, his warm hand resting casually on your shoulder. “He scored the winning runs at the FBI-Secret Service game last year,” you said.
Felix’s smile dropped from his face, recalling the loss that had been personal to many on the opposing team. “Are you ready to go?”
To his chagrin, you ended up sticking around the BAU for another hour, waiting for Spencer to finish some paperwork before the Secret Service drove you home. You’d been warned against the metro. You’d been warned against most public places.
Ditching Felix at the front door, you were introduced to Caleb and Sally, who would be positioned at your front door and balcony, respectively. In an exhausted haze, you and Spencer ended up on the couch, pressing yourself against him so closely that you were practically sitting on his lap.
You were supposed to be reading; that’s what you usually did after dinner. Your book lay open in your hands while you stared at the jumble of letters on the pages, next to you, Spencer turned yet another page, keeping his place with his fingertips.
Nothing was making any sense to you; even the familiar leather of your couch felt foreign beneath your legs. Things like this were never supposed to happen to you. You were a low-level staffer in the White House, but the one time you end up on camera, it turns into a case.
Spencer turned another page, so invested in his book that he hadn’t noticed your bookmark was still in place.
Your eyes flickered to the balcony. Sally was facing the street, and you knew that Caleb was right outside the front door. Thumbing the worn corner of your book, you considered asking Spencer if you could just go to bed, but his eyes seemed so affixed to his book that you didn’t want to interrupt him. You didn’t want to go alone.
It’s just a guy with a sniper rifle; you tried to convince yourself that it didn’t mean anything. People in the public eye received them all the time. If you ever wanted to further your career, you’d have to develop a thicker skin.
It’s just a guy with a sniper rifle; you repeated to yourself, shifting slightly on the couch. You moved away from Spencer, cheeks warming when he moved his placeholder hand to pull you back to him. Squeezing your thigh before returning his fingertips to the page he was on.
It’s just a guy with a sniper rifle; you leaned your head on Spencer’s shoulder, smiling despite yourself when he placed a soft kiss to the crown of your head. You relaxed into him, looking back at your book when it happened.
A loud popping sound came from the street. You practically tossed your book in the air in panic, looking around for a place to hide while Spencer calmly set his book down on the side table. “Hey,” he said with no harshness in his tone. His voice was so gentle that it was almost a coo. “It’s okay,” he put his arms around you while you watched Sally talk into her radio, “It’s just a car backfiring.”
You tried to take a deep breath, air catching in your throat and leaving you to choke on nothing. You erupted in a fit of coughs, covering your mouth with your arm while Spencer rubbed your back.
“You’re safe in here,” he whispered, letting you rest your head on his shoulder. “No one’s going to get in,” he reassured you, propping his chin on top of your head, enveloping you in him.
Feeling like a fool, you’d forgotten that your first line of defense was Spencer. He wasn’t going to let you get hurt. “I’m okay,” you muttered, keeping your eyes wide open when all you wanted to do was close them.
He hummed like he didn’t believe you, and he was right to think so. “It’s alright to be scared.”
You shook your head, pulling away from him and wiping a hand down your face. “I’m not; it’s just a guy with a sniper rifle,” you said your mantra out loud this time.
Spencer’s gaze narrowed at you. “Just a guy with a sniper rifle?” He was clearly bothered by your lackadaisical attitude toward your current set of circumstances, but letting him think you were indifferent was better than letting him know you were terrified. “You do know what sniper rifles do, right?”
His question was rhetorical, but that didn’t stop you from lifting your chin to respond, “They’re like giant party poppers.”
Relaxing his posture, you watched as recognition flashed in his eyes. You didn’t mind the fact that he was actively profiling you, so long as it meant he’d stop asking questions. You were afraid that with too many more questions, you’d break, and that was something you couldn’t afford right now.
So, he let you deflect, leading you into your shared bedroom with both hands, keeping your fingertips in his. You wondered, not for the first time that night, if asking to get his gun from the safe and leave it on the nightstand was too much.
Refraining, you laid down on the bed, sighing as Spencer dragged his hand up and down your spine, waiting for you to fall asleep before he considered it for himself.
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“Really?” Felix asked, putting his hands on his hips while you crouched to tie the laces on your shoes for the nth time that day. “You’ve spent more time tying your shoes than we have walking,” he observed.
You hummed in response, “They keep getting untied.”
“Double knot them,” he suggested unhelpfully.
Rising to your feet, you took your coffee cup from the Secret Service agent and took a sip. “Then I wouldn’t be able to get them off. They’re new; the laces just need some grip.”
He didn’t look impressed with your explanation. “You should’ve worn different shoes then,” he chided you, turning around when you motioned for him to keep moving through Quantico.
Unfortunately, these were the only non-work shoes you owned, and they’d be easier to run in than any of your heels. That was, after all, the reason why you elected to wear them today. “Have you always been this way?” You asked begrudgingly, “Or have you been jaded by years on the job?”
“I’m not jaded; I’m just doing my job,” he responded, looking out warily for any sign of danger. Oddly enough, you felt safer here than you did at work; the presence of people you’ve known for years brought you comfort. It helped that your boss suggested you take a day off—a rarity in your line of work.
You stumbled slightly, a flash of light out of the corner of your eye disoriented your vision, exacerbated by your untied shoelace. “Wait,” you said to Felix, getting him to turn around and handing him your coffee again, but he refused to hold it, leaving you to set the cup on the pavement.
Crouching again to tie your shoe, you were pulling on the laces when you heard a sharp whistle. It’s only ever been described to you before, but you looked up from your shoes to see Felix just before he toppled over. You ducked out of the way of his body, frantically holding your hands over the fresh wound on his chest before you realized he wasn’t moving.
If you had been anywhere else, you would’ve been surrounded by chaos, but all around you were agents pulling their weapons from holsters and looking to the sky. You stood on shaky legs, allowing them to carry you to a corridor. You stumbled over your shoelace and rounded a brick column, gripping the cold stone as you hurled into the bushes, the distinct burn of coffee poisoning the foliage in front of you.
Dry heaving, you slid down the column, covering your hyperventilating chest with your palm and trying to listen to the cacophony of the world behind you. Everything was muffled, and your eyes had blurred despite the lack of tears in them—why couldn’t you cry? Someone had tried to kill you; you should be inconsolable. Instead, you were numb, so remarkably unfeeling that you might as well be dead. Your nose stung, and you moved your hands, the blood covering them had begun to dry, sticking a violent handprint over your heart.
You started to hear things, your name being called, familiar pet names thrown into the wind, but it all felt so far away. People were speaking in an entirely different universe than the one you were currently residing in. You tugged your skirt over your knees, your eyes pausing on the dried blood, encrusted between the ridges and fine lines of your hands. It was like you’d been through some sort of gruesome fingerprinting ritual.
Brown hair curtained in front of you; someone ducked their head behind your column, relief flooding her eyes as she knelt next to you. It took you a moment to recognize that Blake was speaking to you. “Huh?” Your voice felt like it was coming from someone else; a doppelganger sat on the concrete next to you.
She held her phone to her ear, inspecting your eyes as she talked on the phone. Her fingers pressed to your wrist, checking your heart rate. You weren’t sure if it was racing or slowing, you wanted to ask, but it felt as though your mouth had been filled with cotton.
You couldn’t get yourself to stand; the dexterity that you’d developed as an infant escaping you while you sat limply on the ground, flinching when footsteps seemed to shake the earth around you.
The golden eyes in front of you glowed in the sunlight, your cheeks cupped by familiar palms, forcibly pulling you out of whatever hell you’d buried yourself in. The world seemed to move very fast before it completely stopped, your head lolling to the side for a moment before Spencer righted it for you.
You didn’t remember much of the interim, and somehow, you’d ended up on a bench. Spencer was on the ground in front of you, gingerly cleaning debris from scrapes on your knees before bandaging them.  
“Do you guys need anything?” JJ stopped by to ask. You knew everyone was trying to keep their distance from you, giving you space to breathe. Rossi draped a blanket over your shoulders in silence.
Placing a gentle kiss on your knee, Spencer looked up at you before responding, “Could you try to find a water? Or juice, something cold.”
The blonde nodded, giving you a concerned look before walking back into the building, taking Penelope with her. The technical analyst had come out after the all clear was declared; everyone wanted to check in on you. Even Matt Cruz was out, over by an ambulance talking with Hotch and some agents that the Secret Service had sent out.
You took off your shoes, sock-covered feet touching the concrete in an attempt to ground yourself while Spencer tried to take one of your hands in his. You had a death grip on the bench beneath you, and he peeled your fingers off of the metal one by one so he could start to wipe off the dried blood. “He said he always had to be in front of me,” you spoke, your voice nothing more than a mumble, but Spencer had years of practice decoding it.
“That’s protocol,” he reminded you softly. Of course, you knew that. Somewhere in your trauma-addled mind were the rules that the Secret Service had presented you.
You pursed your lips, “But if he’d—”
“Honey, you’ll drive yourself crazy if you try to think of what could’ve been different,” he told you. A sharpness emerged in his voice, one you only heard when he was worried about you.
When your instinct was to run, you hadn’t thought what it would be like for Spencer to run outside and find your protection dead and you missing. He hadn’t yet had the opportunity to read the initial email, but he’d likely figured enough to know that the person who was after you had no interest in keeping you alive. “I didn’t…” You gasped, “I wasn’t…”
Spencer’s face fell, pulling himself up so he was sitting next to you on the bench. “Hey, it’s okay,” he hummed. “Just breathe, I’ve got you.”
You looked around frantically. “Did they get the shooter?”
He nodded. “You’re completely safe.”
Behind him, Felix’s body remained under a sheet, preventing anyone from taking photos, but outside of the cover, you could see his blood. It had seeped out of his body, mixing on the concrete with the coffee you had knocked over during your escape. When Spencer reminded you not to look, you went back to watching him meticulously clean your hands. “I threw up,” you told him, why you felt it was pertinent, you weren’t entirely sure, but you told him anyway.
“That’s okay,” he reassured you. “It’s a manifestation of stress when you go into fight-or-flight.” He didn’t add the fact that you hadn’t consumed anything other than coffee, which likely didn’t help your nervous stomach.
Confused, you frowned at him. “I didn’t fight.” You corrected him, “I ran.”
He paused for a moment, squeezing your hand even though feeling hadn’t returned to your extremities, “You told me you tried to help Felix before you hid, and that’s a fight in and of itself.”
“I did?” You asked, not remembering that prior conversation.
Spencer was solemn in front of you. “You’re in shock,” he observed as if your question had been the final clarification he needed to diagnose you.
You shook your head. “I’m not bleeding.” Though, looking at all of the blood that had gotten on your clothes, it would be easy to make that assumption.
“Emotional shock, baby,” he reminded you gently. “That’s why you can’t feel your hands,” he said.
The memory of telling him you couldn’t feel your hands evaded you, trying to think of the moment you’d told him you were numb, but nothing rose to the surface. You couldn’t even remember the moment your hearing had returned; at some point while Spencer and Morgan helped you walk to the bench, you thought. “My head hurts,” you murmured, shifting uncomfortably on the bench.
He raised his eyebrows. “Did you hit it when you fell?”
“I don’t remember,” you admitted. You didn’t even remember falling until Blake had brought Spencer bandages for your knees.
Nodding in understanding, Spencer set down the damp towel he had been using and looked at your eyes, probably checking your pupils before he carefully wrapped his arms around you. You buried your face in the crook of his neck while he spoke to you gently, “I’ll keep an eye on it. You don’t have to worry about anything, okay? I’ll take care of it.”
You hiccupped back a sob, moving your face to allow for easier breathing. Tears seared your lash line before you finally blinked them out, quiet cries muffled by Spencer’s shoulder as your body finally felt the release it had been seeking.
“Oh, honey,” Spencer cooed, pulling you closer to him. He didn’t care about who was watching; he only worried about being there for you. “I’ve got you.”
His words rang in your ears as you sobbed, your trembling arms reaching around him, pins and needles striking your fingers as you gathered the fabric of his jacket in your hands. Oddly enough, a sigh of relief escaped your lips.
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