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keen-li · 8 months ago

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MR RIGHT YOU CAME AT THE WRONG TIME | jjk

18+ MDNI

synopsis: after accidentally switching bags, you end up finding your ways to each other and returning them to each other. But little did you realize that wasn't the last you'd be seeing of him.

song: find me by sigma ft birdy

Jungkook x reader

wc: 12.4k [damn i never thought id write this much before]

genre: strangers to lovers, fluff, smut, angst. (I would say it's kinda a forbidden love, but I don't know you tell me)

warnings: (I don't like writing warnings cause it kind of gives some stuff away, but I feel it's kind of necessary here), so we have cheating, letting a stranger into your home, unfaithfulness, lying, double lives. smut. [I'm kinda lazy at adding warnings but these are the general ideas]

note: if you can't swallow or read the idea of cheating and lying please DON'T READ. Sorry for any typos.

_-_

You tap aggressively on your laptop keyboard; you're trying to get this report done and today seems like the perfect time. You're sat in a café, the sun is setting (making the perfect aesthetic), it's showering a bit outside and you have your favorite sandwich and latte by your side to warm you up. What more can you need.

After an hour you decide you've written enough and you need to get going, plus the cafe's closing soon. So you shut off your laptop and place it into your tote bag. Before you leave you decide to use the bathroom. You leave your tote bag on your seat and carry your little handbag to the bathroom with you.

"Can you watch this for me?" You ask the person who was sat on the other seat of your table, and after they agree you leave to the bathroom.

While you're in the bathroom a man stops to speak to the person who was sat at your table.

"Can you watch this for me?" The young man asks and they nod in agreement.

He places his tote bag right next to yours, in too much of a hurry to pay attention to the other tote bag that was sat there that's exactly the same and rushes to the bathroom.

"Yeah I know, i wish you could be here too" you speak rushed through the phone. "no I won't be alone mark's gonna be with me"

The person on the other side continues to nag.

And in a hurry hoping you won't miss the train. So, you grab your tote bag without paying attention. You nod in appreciation to the person who doesn't even have their attention on you.

You quickly rush to the train station and get on a train back home.

Back at the café the young man grabs his bag and heads out too after giving his appreciation.

"I bet they weren't even watching it" He mumbles to himself.

And he's surely right.

"What the fuck, where's my lapto-" you exclaim as you dump out the contents of the bag. You run your hands through the emptied-out contents and pick up an ID card.

"Wait? This isn't even my bag" you come to the realisation. You should've realised that when you weren't met with the sweet flowery smell of your bag when you opened it. But now that you're staring at this ID you realise it's really not your bag. You thought someone stole your laptop but they stole your whole bag.

"Jeon Jungkook? The fuck" you exclaim as you eye his ID. You eye the little picture showing his face, damn.

You chuckle at how handsome he is. You scan through more of his documents and find a permit for a motorcycle, you lift your brows.

"Motorcyclist. Cool" you hum.

You snap out of the thrill of going through jeon Jungkook’s stuff when you realise you don't know how to get back your own stuff back.

You search for any phone number but you find none. You're growing a little frustrated now. He has no information in his bag that can help you locate him. You run your hands over your face and you sigh not knowing what to do. You wanna cry so bad, your laptop is in your bag. Shit, you wanted to complete your report when you got home, you've got to get it done tonight.

What the hell are you gonna d-

Your head snaps up when you hear a knock at your door. You drag your feet to the door and peep through your hole, you can't tell who it is cause they have a helmet on. You didn't order anything so you open the door, curious.

He turns to face you and speaks.

"Y/n?" The man asks, his voice muffled by his helmet.

You stare at him with a confused face.

"Did I order something?"

He mumbles an apology as he takes off his helmet. He brushes his hair back into a more presentable position and you take in his facial features. Time slows down like in the movies as he arranges his hair, he's helping you debunk the theory that all Motorcyclists are unattractive.

You know his face, you've seen him before, somewhere.

"People always think I'm in delivery when I have my helmet on" he chuckles.

"Jungkook?" Your brain clicks where you've seen him from.

He smiles "looks like someone found my ID" he tucks his helmet under his arm.

"I had to. I assume you went through mine if you found where I live"

"You got me there" He raises his hands in surrender. You laugh as you move out of the door way.

"Wanna come in and do a formal exchange?"

"Yeah sure"

Jungkook walks in and can't help his eyes from wondering. Your apartment is nothing too exciting, it's boring he thinks. But it's not like his is any better, if you stare closer into his apartment you'd find some unpacked boxes that he hasn't bothered to unbox and just stares at since he moved in.

But your apartment smells great.

You walk into your kitchen and internally slap yourself.

"Wow, looks like you did more than find my ID" he exclaims as he puts his helmet and your bag on the table.

"I'm so sorry, got a little frustrated" you rush around to pack his things that you left all over your counter back into his bag.

"I can't blame you, had a little fun with your stuff too. I even tried your cherry lip balm. Might get it for myself too" he puckers his lips and you eye him hoping he's joking. You take it as the time to admire his lips and you catch yourself before you're staring for too long.

"Did you really?" You ask sternly.

"If I did would you be mad?" He raises his brow maintaining his comedic and warm personality.

"Well yeah, I barely barely know you" you emphasise. Which is weird that you let him into your house even though you barely know him.

He nods knowing that it would be weird to try a stranger’s lip products.

"Well, I'll have you know that I had my own cherry lip balm"

"Seriously?"

"Yeah why do you think my lips look so good" he sends you a kiss which you dodge and you both laugh at.

"Never thought I'd find a guy who wears lip balm" you walk to your fridge.

"Yeah guys need to start moisturising their lips, makes it easier during kissing"

You ignore he's comment and jungkook thinks he might have over stepped it, which you wouldn't agree to but you wouldn't disagree.

"Do you want something to drink?" You ask staring at` him from your fridge.

"Yeah sure"

You walk over and hand him a beer.

"I almost forgot, I got you this" you knit your eyebrows confused about what he might have forgotten to give you, you don't even know eachother.

You watch him reach into your bag and you stare at him questionably.

You closely monitor as his hand pulls out a little box which you recognise is from a bakery. Your confusion grows even stronger.

He pushes the box to you and you reluctantly take it and open it. It's a little cake slice.

"Why-"

"I saw on your ID that it was your birthday so I thought I'd get you that"

You blush at his kind gesture. You didn't get to celebrate your birthday, you don't care though but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt. Your sister is in another country while your boyfriend is... you don't even know where he is actually. You were supposed to spend the day together but he bailed and so you decided to spend your night alone and do your report at the café and finish it at home. But you couldn't cause of this inconvenience. You wouldn't call jungkook an inconvenience though, right now he was a making your birthday something memorable.

"Thank you" you smile gently.

"No problem, but were you going to spend your birthday night by yourself?" He asks trying to lighten the mood with his charming tone. "Did you do anything exciting today?"

"I went out with my friends for lunch" you remember.

Jungkook nods.

"But that's not enough, you can't spend your birthday night alone."

You chuckle at his enthusiasm to lighten your mood.

"I'm fine jungkook, this cake is enough for me" you hold the little box closer to you.

"Let's order some food and watch a movie" he pulls out his phone "that would be fun. Would you like that?" He stares waiting for your consent.

"I assume you've got a TV" he pauses to look at you.

"Yeah i do" you chuckle " and I wouldn't mind" You say wondering if it's the right choice to allow a stranger to stay any longer in your house. Jungkook didn't seem like a threat though he seemed quite like comfort to you.

"How did you find my apartment anyways" you ask in-between bites.

"Oh that was easy" he says as he takes his time to chew and swallow.

"Well I got your address from a document in your bag and when I got here all I had to do was say i was a friend of yours and showed them your ID"

You're stunned by the information.

"So they'd just let some random to my apartment"

"I'm not some random" he sounds offended.

"Then what are you, my friend?" You lean in closer to his face to mock him.

"I can be" his voice lowers as he leans in closer to you, also mocking. You stay looking at each other like that. Your eyes fall deep into his and so do his into yours. You pull back from your thoughts when you notice jungkook look at your lips.

"I think we should stay off the beers" you chuckle leaning back into your side of the couch. Jungkook at the other end of the couch leans back too, seemingly agreeing with your statement.

Jungkook stretches his hand to your table to grab his can and emptying it down his throat.

"You know I didn't even notice you had tattoos" you say after sometime gawking at his tattooed arm.

He stretches his hand out and gawks at it too.

"How didn't you notice?"

"To be fair i didn't even notice you had even taken off your jacket" you take a dry swallow as you turn away from his gaze.

"Oh I took it off a while back" he eyes the black t-shirt he has on. "Wanna take a closer look?" he says hoping you say yes.

"Sure, I have a kin eye for art" you say moving closer to jungkook's side of the couch.

"Says the person who has such a boring apartment" he mocks

"You know what I'd loooove to see your apartment" you defend back as you lean your elbows on your couch head.

"I bet you would" the statement comes off a little sensual but you don't mind. You've gotten so comfortable with jungkook so fast, but he makes you feel comfortable more than anyone has. You've never found someone to tease and who can tease back, it's fun to have someone to have a progressive conversation with.

And now that you're staring at jungkook's arm you get to see and know a little more about him.

"Did these hurt?" You ask softly

"Not really. I've got a really high pain tolerance" he states proud of himself. He watches you intently as you eye each ink and drag your finger over them. You seem to forget that you're dragging your finger over his skin which causes him to feel every sensation of your touch.

"You must be great for bdsm" you say harmlessly. You say really random shit when you’re comfortable and slightly buzzed.

Jungkook almost chokes at your forwardness, but he doesn't let you in on his shock.

"Wanna find out?" he says and you choke on the air you suck in, a blush forms on your cheeks and you hope jungkook can't see it. He smiles seeing the effect he's comment has on you. He likes it.

"I'm just joking" he flicks your chin trying to establish he's playfulness. You’re disappointed cause you'd really like to find out, and you're not sure if he really meant it or he was seriously joking.

Being drunk around a hot man is not the best for you.

"You're sad?" You widen your eyes at his statement.

"What?" He lifts your chin to look at him. You're close enough at this point that if jungkook moved slightly your lips would meet. You're okay with it though, you're comfortable with this , you're comfortable with him.

You’re actually really hoping he kisses you.

"Why are you sad?" His voice is low as his eyes stare deep into yours, you can't seem to turn away from his gaze. You don't want to lose the feeling, the feeling of being pulled into an unexpected moment of bliss.

"I-im not sad" you fumble around your words a little nervous now that he's speaking.

"Well you look like it" He scoots closer to you and places a hand in your thigh. He watches for your reaction and when you don't protest he cups your cheek.

"Want me to take you on a ride on my motorbike?"

"So that what? I die on my birthday?"

"You wouldn't die if you're on my bike" you scoff at him "do you think I'd let you?"

"I don't know would you?" You trace you hands through his hair.

"I wouldn't. You'd be safe with me" his words make your heart flutter.

Jungkook's eyes lower to your lips and before you can make any comment his lips are on yours.

He takes it slow giving you a chance to say no if that's what you want, but you don't instead you tug on his neck pulling him closer to you.

You should've pulled away and said no, i have a boyfriend but you didn't, you don't.

You don't want to stop, you don't want this to stop.

You don't.

He doesn't.

And by the way he's pulling you onto his lap goes to show how he really doesn't want to stop.

You want to keep this feeling forever.

You never want the feeling of his hot, wet mouth on your neck to stop. You don't want the way his large hands roam your ass to stop.

And he doesn't want the way you grunt and moan into his mouth to stop, he doesn't want the feeling of you tugging on his hair ever stop.

Some people would condemn you to why you're making out with a stranger on your couch, and to those people this is no better than a one night stand from a club.

"Fuck" he groans into your mouth and you halt your hips.

"What?" you scan his face for any un-comfortability.

"Nothing , it just feels good" he tugs at your hips to keep going and you do.

Your mouths meet again and jungkook sucks you into him once more. You forget any rational thought. All the rational thoughts you should be thinking of like; what about my boyfriend, I have a boyfriend, are far lost in the bliss.

It's one thing that your doing this while you have a boyfriend but it's another thing to drag jungkook into this. You need to tell him, he doesn't deserve this.

But you can't.

You can't tell him. You don't want him to look at you like a bad person (but you'll be one if you keep going anyways)

You don't want to ruin this new found friendship, this new found comfort.

You can't let this go but you can't drag jungkook in too.

"Wait"- you say placing your hands on his chest and he stops worried.

"What? What's wrong? Did I-"

You shake your head.

"No, you've done nothing wrong" you get off his lap "I just can't I'm sorry"

"Don't apologise it's fine" he sits up feeling the uncomfortability from his groin. "Just tell me what's wrong"

You wrap your hands around your torso.

"I just can’t"

"Come here" he says softly to try and comfort you. He tries to take you into his arms but you move away.

"If you wanna stay over you can, cause we're drunk" you try and comfort yourself for your actions. "I'm going to bed."

You walk away and jungkook doesn't say anything, but watch you walk away.

Maybe he’s gotten to comfort himself, he thinks. He’s a strander after all why is he acting like he’s known you for forever.

When you wake up you're gonna kill yourself for letting a stranger sleep in your house, just because what? He makes you feel this new found emotion and comfort.

You wake up with the sun hitting your face. Your feet touch the ground as you walk to the bathroom to wash your face. As you stare into the mirror you remember the events of last night.

Jungkook.

You rush to your living room and obviously he's not there when you get in. But he left you a note.

I think I forgot to give you this....

And a follow up is a set of numbers, which is probably his phone number. You should probably call him to found out if he's okay.

You pick up your phone to call him but you stop.

"What If he's asleep, it's probably too early" you turn on your phone.

"10 am?, damn what the fuck" you must have slept late last night and really knocked out.

You tap in jungkook's number and you walk around nervously as it rings.

Soon enough there's a voice that picks up.

"Hello" the voice speaks and you begin to wonder If it's jungkook, the voice sounds too professional. Maybe jungkook gave you someone else's is number as a joke.

"Jungkook?" You speak nervously.

"Y/n?" He recognises your shakey voice "Are you okay, did you sleep well?" He asks concerned.

"Oh, I'm okay. I was calling to check on you." Your fingers tap against the counter. "You left with saying goodbye"

"I didn't want to to wake you, you looked so peaceful"

So he saw you asleep, you hope you looked atleast presentable.

"Plus I left you my number" he adds.

"Yeah well, what time did you leave?" You bite you lower lip.

"I left quite early, at 5"

"What? did you atleast sober up?"

"Yeah a little" you hear him chuckle.

"A little? Don't tell you didn't let yourself sober up fully" jungkook can feel the lecture coming.

"Y/n I'm fine, I got home safe" he sighs.

"And what if you didn't, jungkook you could've gotten hurt" your tone gets more disciplinary.

"Well I'm fine, but if it makes you feel better I'll never do it again mommy"

You roll your eyes and his snarky joke.

"Well I don't believe you."

Jungkook sighs from behind the phone.

"Well if you don't believe me you can come check for yourself" his tone is low.

"Where are you?"

"I'm at work" he says bluntly.

"Jungkook!" You exclaim. "You were going to work the next day and you let me make you drink"

You hear him laughing.

"I'm good y/n. I handle my alcohol well" you scoff at his cockiness. "Plus I wouldn't have gotten to kiss you if I didn't"

You can feel that feeling in your stomach ignite again.

"About that jungkook I'm sor-"

"I have to go y/n but I'll talk to you later. Bye" he cuts before you can apologise and something in you wants you to believe that he did that on purpose. He doesn't want to hear you apologise.

"You didn't say uno so you gotta pick up" You exclaim, holding you cards for dear life.

"What stupid rule is that" he whines "I'm literally about to win" he continues to whine but instead you grin at him and nod for him to pick up.

"I'm not playing anymore, let's do something else" he drops his cards in defeat. One thing you've learnt about jungkook through these rounds of uno is that he doesn't like to lose and you enjoy beating him.

"Why? Afraid I'll beat you once again" you mock, he rolls his eyes as they watch you pack up the cards.

"No. It's just that I haven't seen you in two weeks, you think of want to spend the rest of the night playing uno"

You chuckle "You mean spend the rest of the night losing"

Jungkook scoffs ready to defend himself like a child. "I would've won if you didn't bring up that stupid rule"

"It's the rules jungkook" you shrug your shoulders.

"A stupid one" he mumbles.

You return to your spot on the floor with folded legs, after placing the box of cards back on the shelf.

"So what do you want to do?" You fold your hands over your chest feeling self conscious about how jungkook now has his focus on you. He notices your little actions and moves his eyes from your body to your eyes to make you feel less awkward. But it only makes your mind race more.

"Lets talk about you, about me. About our favourite things." He moves his legs to get more comfortable. "Get to know each other, you know?"

You let some silence linger as you wonder if it's a good thing to do. Will you be able to go back if you start getting to know him. But to be fair there's no way of going back after you let him into your apartment again.

"So you're telling me that you, y/n? were a pageant princess?" He gasps in disbelief , as he gawks at the picture of you in your pretty pageant gown with a tiara.

"Yeah I was, is it so surprising?"

"Yeah, you were so cute" he looks at you analysing your features "what happened" he furrows his brows.

You swing the photo book and he groans when it meets his skin with a hard smack.

"Ouch, I guess you lost the pretty face to a bad attitude" he says through groans.

"Hey!" You exclaim as you continuously smack him with the book. Jungkook holds your wrists to stop you and when you do stop, he forcibly pulls you closer to him and you almost fall on top of him.

He lowers his voice "Hitting me won't get your beauty back princess" you squint your eyes when he grins.

You move back but jungkook stops you by your waist.

"I hope you know I'm only kidding " you look down at him as his eyes try to convince you. " I happen to think you have retained some of your cuteness from childhood"

"Jungkook if you want to express how beautiful you think I am just do it" you tease.

He smiles "Okay then" he pulls you closer making you sit on his lap. "Well y/n I think you're a very beautiful and stunning"

You shake your head telling him you're not moved.

"Well I'm not done" he grins. " I also think that you've got a really gorgeous smile and I love the why you blush when you do" there’s more he’d want to add but might be crossing a bridge he won’t be able to go back on.

"i don't blush" you turn away from his gaze.

He turns your head back to him with his fingers "well tell that to your burning cheeks" he traces his finger over the apple of your cheek and it makes you want to blush.

You want to open your mouth and defend yourself but jungkook beats you to it.

" if you're about to say how your cheeks aren't burning, I can take you to a mirror right now."

You can't fight back cause you know he's right, you can feel your cheeks burning. You feel It all the time when he looks at you or when his skin touches yours. And also when he has his hands rubbing your ass like right now.

"You look pretty when you blush" he whispers against your lips and before they can meet you push away. He furrows his brows in confusion , you smile to which his confusion grows stronger

"Let's talk about you now" you whisper back.

You've been talking about yourself and you want to hear about what jungkook likes or dislikes , or any of his embarrassing stories. You already know he doesn't like to lose but you wanna know more.

"What do you wanna know?" His tongue grazes over his lower lip as he stares at yours when you speak.

"I wanna know why a guy like you is single"

Jungkook is taken aback by your question. He let's the lump in his throat drop down as you wait for his answer.

You really hope he doesn't turn the question back to you, cause you don't think you'll be able to lie that you're single. You shouldn't even have asked him, you're now regretting bringing the question up. You want to shrug the question away but he speaks before you.

"A guy like me?" He questions " what kind of guy am i" he leans back to hear your reply.

Your mouth releases a little laugh as you reply.

"Uhhh" you suck in a breath between your teeth. Jungkook stares at you encouragingly.

"A guy like you, warm. Approachable" he gives you a look of being unconvinced.

"You're really hot, great personality. There's a lot I want to say but I can't" you whine at being unable to describe him. Jungkook is hard to describe cause he just makes you feel alot you can't fit him into a word.

"Why don't I help you find your words" he moves closer and his hands returns to you hips.

"How?" Your voice lowers.

You're curious.

You watch his eyes lower and his tongue graze over his lips. Your heart beat begins to quicken.

"Tell me how you feel when you see me" you stare at him, lost in his eyes. He pulls you back to earth with a squeeze of your hips and a chuckle.

"Tell me"

"Uhh, I feel... relaxed. Like I'm at peace you know" he nods

"I also fell free and comfortable. I usually don't feel free to tell people things like I tell you" you and jungkook have been texting when you're not around eachother and in those texts you've shared some things that you haven't been able to tell your boyfriend (cause he says he's been busy).

You've shared with jungkook how much work has you stressed and he's been supportive and giving you some solutions. You wish you could express to jungkook how much you wish your boyfriend would pay attention to you and give you his time of day, but you know it'll probably mess things up.

You feel fucked up for feeling peace, joy and comfort in jungkook when you're supposed to feel that from your boyfriend. You just wish your boyfriend would step up and maybe you wouldn't have to look for comfort in another man.

"Now tell me how you feel when I look at you"

You sigh feeling more relaxed to express what you feel.

"I feel seen, I feel noticed and uh" you find it hard to say what you want to.

"You can tell me" his voice softens as he rubs your skin comfortingly.

"I feel wanted" you lower your eyes and watch your fingers that play with each other. Jungkook’s heart pumps and a smile forms on his face. If only you knew how much he thinks about you and how you have him wrapped around your finger. He’s not even sure how it’s possible to feel this way about someone so fast.

"I'm glad you feel that way. I want you to know that I do want you."

You lift your eyes to meet his warm ones that never stop admiring you.

"Cause you make me feel wanted too" he adds and your heart sinks. There's no going back from this. You can't believe you're being this selfish by dragging jungkook into your fucked up life.

"Jungko-"

"Now tell me how you feel when I touch you" you swear his voice has dropped 3 octaves deeper. He moves in closer to you to empathise.

"Tell me how you feel when my hands are on you, when I caress you and when I kiss you" he places a kiss on your jaw. Your body automatically opens up for him to move in.

"Tell me how it makes you feel" his voice vibrates against your skin and you wonder how the fuck you'll be able to open your mouth if it's not to release a moan.

"Y/n" he encourages you to speak.

"it feels good, it feels fucking good" you spit out "it's warm. It feels suffocating in a good way." You pause to catch your breath from his kisses.

"It feels like you mean it, like you want to"

"And I do, I mean it so fucking much and I want to so bad." His mouth moves to yours and he wants to kiss you but he waits.

"Do you want to?"

Fuck.

You don't know what to actually fucking say. You don't want to say no cause you do want it but you can't say yes cause you have a boyfriend who's innocent and jungkook who's innocent too.

You just wish you and jungkook met in different circumstances. You wish you met him earlier. But if you did would it have felt this good.

" jungkook i-" your voice is cut off by jungkook's phone ringing. He stands to pick It up but he doesn't answer. Instead he just sends a text. You have no clue of who he's talking to but you honestly don't need to know.

"Uh, I have to go" he says picking up his stuff. He seems in a little bit of a rush, you wanna ask him why but you need your own excuse to not answer his question.

"Oh okay" you walk him to the door. Your goodbyes are awkward and you don't even know why. Well you know why you're being awkward but you don't know why jungkook's being awkward.

When you lay in bed you think of what jungkook said.

Do you want this.

It's an important choice to make, and even if you ignore it now its going to come up later. It's better if you end it now.

Maybe you should break up with your boyfriend.

Riiing.

Your ringtone startles you a bit as you pick it up. You sigh when you see the caller ID.

"Hey babe"

You watch his face light up at seeing you answer.

"Hii" you try and feign some type of joy. It's not that you're unhappy to see him, it's just that your situation has you detached and thinking. How can you be falling for a guy you haven't known for long, when your boyfriend has been their for two years.

"We're you asleep?"

"No, i was just laying in bed"

"Good. I have a surprise for you" he smiles.

"What?" You sit up so he can have a good view of you.

"I booked us a trip to the island"

"What?"

"I got them for your birthday, but I needed to clear my schedule first, so we couldn't go then"

You feel a lump begin to form in your throat.

"But now we can. I know that I wasn't there for your birthday and I'm sorry. I know getting you flowers and a card isn't a good enough present from your boyfriend."

"Mark it's fine I don't mind" well on your birthday you did mind, but now that you've fucked him over, his fuck-up doesn't feel as bad as yours.

"No no, I should apologise. So take this trip as my apology"

"Do you wanna go?"

This feels like another pressured question again.

If you say yes to one question then you're saying no to the other and you don't think you're ready to answer any question.

"I missed this" mark says nuzzling deeper into your neck. Your hands, like a programmed machine, running through his hair.

" I missed being in your arms" you don't even answer your mind is to clouded with thoughts. You haven't talked to jungkook for the past week. Mainly because you haven't answered his texts or answered his calls. Or even answered the door when he knocked. You thought it would help you make a decision but it hasn't. It only made you confused (and cry a little). Especially for the fact that Mark has now been trying to get back into your good graces (not that you feel that you deserve it anymore) it just makes you even more confused.

"I really want to be a better boyfriend y/n you know?" He lifts himself up. "I really want to be better for you"

"Mark please" you try and stop him, you don't need him saying what he wants to say. It's not gonna help your case.

"I really love you and I want the best for us" he kisses your hands and your chest tightens. You can feel the lump in your throat grow and air slowly leaving your lungs.

" I just really love you " he kisses your hand once more and you break.

"Mark please don't say shit like that" you stand, moving away from the bed. He stares at you confused at the sudden outburst.

"Y/n, what's wron- and mark? What do you keep calling me by name. Are you okay is something wrong"

"Nothing's wrong" your voice shakes.

"No there's something wrong" he narrows his eyes and walks to you but you put your hands out and walk backwards.

"If its about the trip, I understand why you can't go. It was selfish of me to think of my own schedule and not yours too" he comforts you, but there's nothing comforting about it.

" I should have been better with my planning. But we can do something else just within so i can make it up to you."

"You don't have to make it up to me" The tears burn in your line.

" I do babe, I haven't been the best boyfriend, you know"

And you haven't been the best girlfriend too, you've been the worst. You've been the absolute worst.

"No you don't. You're not a bad boyfriend. I'm the bad one" you lower your head and the tears fall. Mark notices and walks to hold you. You don't fight back and just let him hold you as you sob.

" YN you're not a bad girlfriend. You're the best. The best i can ask for and the best I'll ever need" his words pulls at your heart. You hate this so much, you've fucked it for the both of you.

You sob into his shoulder.

"I'm sorry"

"Don't be sorry. Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?"

"Jungkook where have you been" a soft feminine voice speaks as he places his bags down.

"Ivy, can i just get some sleep I've been busy"

Ivy follows jungkook to the bedroom.

"Speaking of work. I called in to your job the other day and they told you you haven't been doing overtime" she folds her arms of her chest. "So where have you been if it's not doing overtime"

"I've been working on person projects" he says not bothering to stare at her.

"So you've been inbetween your personal projects legs huh?" She spits and jungkook's jaw locks. He doesn't like to argue with her, nothing ever goes anywhere.

"You know jungkook, you can make your life easier" she walks closer to his now shirtless and towel wrapped body. "If you just marry me, my dad will give you the money and you can be with whatever whore your wanna be with after that." Jungkook's body tenses when she lays her hand on his chest.

"Just marry me kook" her green eyes stare at him deeply.

"I'm not going to marry you ivy and you know it" He pushes her hand away.

"Then why don't you just break up with me!" She snaps.

"How many times have i done that? You won't fucking leave" he runs his hands through his hair frustrated.

Now that ivy thinks that he's seeing someone else, he only hopes she doesn't want to dig deeper and find you.

"Why do you even want me? You can find me other dude who'd be willing to fucking deal with this arrangement, shit"

"Why are you saying this like you weren't in favour of this before"

"I don't love you anymore, get that through that delusional brain of yours" he can feel the vein in his head want to burst.

"You never say that when we fuck"

"We haven't had sex for more than a year"

"Yeah because of you" her voice rises an octave.

"And that's because I don't want anything to do with you"

He walks into the bathroom and she follows.

"Jungkook what happened to us? Mm"

He stills, watching the water run down.

"Maybe it was when you threatened me just so I can marry you" more like when he realised she's crazy.

"But that doesn't change anything "

"It's does for me. You can't do all that crazy delusional shit and expect me to marry you "

He drops his towel and let's the water trial down his skin.

"Maybe you never loved me" jungkook groans listening to her speak.

"Maybe you’re right." He sends a cold glare. "Now can you let me take a shower in peace"

He stands waiting for her to leave and when she does he turns back to his warm water. And with every touch of water all he care to think about is you. He just wants to be in your presence right now to feel some peace. To feel your warm embrace and touch.

To take in your scent that haunts him, to hear your voice say his name and tell him silly stories. He love listening to your mumbles.

But back to reality.

He might have just fucked up, but if ivy finds out who you are she's not gonna let it rest.

"Jungkook what are you doing here" you ask surprised but a little glad.

"Hearing your voice on calls isn't enough for me" he steps closer to you and you let him in.

"I've missed you y/n"

"And I've missed yo-"

"Show me" in a flash you're against the wall and jungkook has you off the ground. "Show me how much you've missed me"

You connect your lips and soon that indescribable feeling is back. That feeling you've been missing and that you've been thinking of everytime when your mind isn't busy with work.

"I've been thinking about you and this ever since the first day I saw you" he lays you down on your bed and places desperate kisses on your neck.

"That must've been very hard for you " you say moving your hands to drop his jacket.

"Very hard" he whispers by your ear and the goosebumps on your skin increase even though the heat in the room is increasing.

Jungkook's hands roam your torso until they find your chest, with your pebbled nipples.

‘’plus you’ve been ignoring me, which just hurts even more’’ he says looking at your face softly.

‘’im sorry,’’ you say but he doesn’t respond.

"but it looks like it's been hard for you too" he mocks you.

"If only you knew"

Even though you were ignoring him, you were dying inside. You couldn’t imgine how much you were hurting and confusing him.

You wonder if it was anything close to you were feeling. You’ve honestly been lying to yourself. And even though it sounds and seems a little selfish, you don’t want to let jungkook go. Missing him hurts.

You greedily capture jungkook's lips, he doesn't fight. He let's you take the lead in the kiss while he takes the lead in getting you undressed.

You hungrily explore each other's warmth. Jungkook's hands leaves hot trails wherever he touches.

Jungkook presses your lips together even harder to try and fill in for all the times he's thought about you during all these weeks and the things he'd do.

Even though he doesn't want to, he detaches your lips so that you can catch your breaths. You both breath heavily taking in eachother's heat.

Next thing jungkook's shirt is on the floor and your hands are on his buckle.

"You look so beautiful " he says staring deeply at you. You start to feel a little self conscious and your legs close.

"What? are you getting shy now?" He smirks at you. His hands gripping your thighs to encourage them to open.

"Don't be shy" he hovers over you and places a gentle peck on your lips, to make you comfortable.

He studies your face as the question that's been on his mind rings.

"Do you want to do this?" He asks softly. The question brings you back to the reality you had forgotten for a moment. This bloody question, might cost you your sanity and it has, ever since it was asked. He's probably just asking about the sex part but the look in his eyes makes you feel more like a pledge. A pledge to him, a pledge to yourself and a pledge to something between the two of you. And you don't even know if you're ready to make any pledges.

"I do" you say and jungkook doesn't let your mind think any further when he has his lips on you and has your legs wrapped around him.

You feel the ache between your legs grow stronger and all you want is jungkook. To make you feel like he always does. To remind you that he wants you and you alone.

And to remind you that you want him. You need a reminder. You need reason, cause you think it's going to make you feel less guilty.

Now that that the sounds of moans and groans has died down and you're now cuddled up under your sheets, jungkook finds it has the perfect moment to ask you.

"Why have you been ignoring me?" He continues to rub your back you continue to sink even deeper in him.

It not that he's mad, its more like he's worried. He's just found something he doesn't want to lose, something he never wants to lose and he can't lose it.

"Did I do somethi-"

"No" You cut him off " You didn't do anything. I've just been going through a lot recently"

"Is it that coworker?"

"No, i had him dealt with" you both laugh.

"good" he places a kiss on the top of your head and it makes warmth spread all over your body. You blush really hard.

"Then what is it?"

You stay thinking for while if you should even ask your question.

"How did it end with your ex" you spit out and he just halts his breathing "I assume you have an ex." You look up at him.

"Yeah I do. We just fell out of it. Wasn't meant to be" he simply states. And that begins the saga of having to lie to you.

Jungkook didn't even want to bring anything about exes up hoping he doesn't have to start lying to you. But you've backed into a corner.

"And if we did start to date. Would we also just fall out" you lift yourself off his skin and the cold seeps in.

"Is this what this is about?" He waits for an answer but you don't give. "What my ex and I had can't compare to what we have"

"Which do you prefer? "

Jungkook chuckles as if mocking you for asking such a question.

"You of course. I'd fucking pick you over everything." His hand caresses your cheek. "I'd pick you over everything and anything" he says against your lips.

"I just wanna be sure" You say softly feeling worry and guilt creep in.

"Sure about what?"

"That I'm making the right choice"

Jungkook doesn't say anything he just nods in understanding.

"Get ready" he abruptly stands and picks up his clothes.

You knit your brows "I'm taking you out" he says determined.

"What jungkook its 10 pm"

"Yeah it's still early. Get ready, I'll meet you at the entrance. "

You watch him walk out and you scoff. What the fuck has gotten into him.

You smile.

"Jungkook what the fuck have you got me doing" you say still not over the adrenaline and fear of being on his motorbike.

"Just come with me" he pulls you into a building and has your hand in his every single step as he makes his way. After pressuring him you find out that he's brought you to karaoke bar.

"Jungkook why did you bring me here you know I can't sing" your legs follow him as he leads you to your karaoke room.

"I know that's why I brought you here"

You walk into the small room and your eyes can't help but look around you've been to a karaoke bar before but it's a little bit different when you're not with a group of screaming girls.

"Here's yours" jungkook hands you a mic. "Wanna go first"

"No you go first you're the one who brought me here"

"Okay. I just want to let you know it'll be an easy decision after the judges hear my voice" he smirks.

You roll your eyes at his cockiness.

You wouldn't pin jungkook as someone to like slow music but you also wouldn't pin him as someone who can sing. Guess there's more you need to know about him.

Jungkook sings out to his love song of choice. He passionately stares at you as he sings every word and you can't help yourself but smile widely. Fenty has nothing on the blush you have on now.

"If you wanted to serenade me you could've done it at home. You didn't have to drag me out into the cold night." You say as jungkook ends his serenade with kissing you on the forehead.

"I'm no basic, boring man sweetheart"

He surely isn't. He takes a seat in the little couch as he watches you sing now.

Unlike him you go for a more upbeat sing about how you're the girl of any man's dream.

After doing your little dance and pointing at jungkook. Your song comes to an end and you throw yourself on the couch and into jungkook's arms that wrap around you warmly.

"You're definitely the woman of my dreams" he smiles down at you.

"I don't know who the judges are gonna pick now" you brush your nose against his.

"I don't know about them but I'd pick you" his hand moves to your hip.

"That's the only reasonable answer" you lean closer into him.

"Mhm" he closes in and your lips touch. You relish in the warm feeling and the hot touch he has on your skin.

You're too focused on eachother's mouths that you don't see the couple that notices you through the clear door.

"Is that jungkook?" The guy asks with furrowed brows. He eyes jungkook's tattoos a little longer.

"You know him?" His girlfriend asks.

"Yeah but who's the girl that with him? Cause that's not ivy"

And as if on cue you and Jungkook separate and your face comes into view.

"Y/n? What the heck is she doing here." His girlfriend exclaims this time.

" you know her ?" He stares at her.

" Yeah she's my friend and that's not her boyfriend."

Her hand goes to the handle but her boyfriend stops her.

"Let me do it." He opens the door and calls out.

"Jungkook?" He calls out.

Jungkook turns to face the door and his heart drops when he sees his friend.

"Fuck" he mumbles " Taehyung what are you doing here?" He stands blocking you from taehyung's sight.

" I came from a date with my girlfriend , then I saw you and wanted to say hi to you and ivy. But I can see a whole lot of you and not a whole lot of ivy. what's going on bro?" He whispers.

Taehyung glances over you once.

"Can we talk outside?" He lightly pushes out the door. That's when your friend walks in.

You sat awkwardly on the chair as you wait for jungkook to finish talking with his friend. Even though you don't know what him and his friend are talking about you know that something is definitely not okay, and that feeling of guilt starts to bubble inside of you. Your face falls and heart drops to your ass when you see your friend walk into the room.

Now you're fucked.

"Y/n what are you doing here?" She laughs more in shock.

"Sana listen to me"

"I'm listening " she takes a seat. "Now tell me the reason why I just found you kissing another guy who's not your boyfriend. or maybe you and Mark broke up tell me, maybe I'm mistaken."

You begin to panic and you know you're gonna stumble on your words soon. You're not scared that she might tell Mark, you're more afraid of the fact that she might start to see you in a different way. And the pressure to tell Mark intensifies . You fucked up you know it and you feel bad for it already.

"It's not like that. Mark and I are still together." She gasps to mock you. " it's just that me and him haven't been good recently and I-"

" you found another guy and cheated." She blunts out.

" it's not that I cheated, well I did cheat but it's not like I went out looking for jungkook. He found me and things just happened I didn't mean for them to happen but I couldn't stop it." You panic the words out.

"Y/n I'm not here to judge you. You're my friend the last thing that I'd want to do is Judge you but as your friend I wanna know what's going on and I want to hold you accountable. Maybe give you some advice help you with your situation" she places a hand on your shoulder "So you can tell me"

You run your hands over your face and groan.

"You know I never meant to actually like jungkook. But I did. And I don't know what to fucking do. I don't wanna hurt mark" you sigh "Plus he's been trying to make up for his wrongs and I feel so bad. I'm the one holding this relationship back now" you frown.

" Yeah I wouldn't say what you're doing is right" she laughs.

"Sana I'm being serious right now" you give her a stern look.

" Okay" her smile falls into seriousness "you aren't holy but Mark isn't any holier. He neglected you."

"But he's making up for it"

"Without first apologising and acknowledging what he's done wrong. Doesn't sound good enough" she leans back in her seat like she's a talk show host digging into the life of a celebrity. Sana has no friendship with mark, she doesn’t care for him. But that doesn’t mean she’s in support of your doings or his.

"I know you're in the wrong but don't let him off the hook so quick"

"But I just feel so bad"

You let silence linger for a little longer.

"Tell me this" She faces you. "Who do you love more? Jungkook or mark"

"Ugh I can't"

"You have to"

"I'm doomed if I do and doomed if I don't. Cause if I tell Mark I've been cheating he won’t want to be with me, and if I tell jungkook I have a boyfriend he won't want to be with me too. And I can't be selfish and lie cause it just hurts me and them both" you sigh ‘’ im scared’’

You take a sip of the beer you had.

"I don't even know how I've been able to keep it a secret. You know i'm such a bad liar" you release a bitter chuckle.

"You just have to take a risk. If you tell the truth and end up alone it's better than living a lie" sana adds. " just have to pick who you want to be with more"

"Argggggh"

She laughs "how good is the D that it has you this confused"

"It's not about his dick" you whine.

"Oh really? So your telling me that his heart and good personality is what makes you come"

You lightly slap her arm in laughter.

"How do you know he made me come" you lower your eyes at her.

She leans in closer to your face.

"I can see it on your face babygirl."

"Fuck this is gonna be so hard to think of. I can't keep running now"

"Jungkook you're cheating on ivy?" Taehyung whispers.

"It's not like that"

" Oh so are you and ivy are broken up?"

"I've tried to break up with her but she won't leave"

"Is that the reason you'll give for cheating?"

Jungkook groans.

"Not It's not. I just feel bad for dragging y/n into this." He runs his hands through his hair. " even though ivy says she doesn't care, she's going to freak out. I just wish she'd just breakup with me"

"I'm a shitty boyfriend why the hell would she want to be with me?" jungkook continues to mumble out, feeling the effect of his actions creeping in.

"Well I wouldn't say you aren't a shitty boyfriend." Jungkook glares at him "but you need to come clean."

"Yeah I do"

" Okay, who do you like more"

"I mean if I loved ivy I wouldn't be here right now. So I guess I like y/n more" he thinks a little longer about his words. "Actually I fucking love y/n more"

"Then there is your answer, now deal with it." Taehyung says. He’e really not the type to stick his nose in jungkook’s relationship but he feels the need to help him with this. He can see the toll that it has on him.

"It's not that easy" he whispers more to himself.

"Y/n" jungkook says before you close the door on him.

"You know I care about you right? Like I really do" you don't know where this is coming from but you understand and you know he's being truthful.

"Yeah I do"

It feels like a slight lift off his shoulders, jungkook just really needs to reassure you that he cares about you. And he hopes that cushions the fall of his lies.

"I just want you to know that. Cause I don't take what we have as a joke or for granted"

" and neither do i" you say holding your door open.

You stand there like two awkward teenagers.

"Have a good night y/n" you watch him want to walk away but your voice calls out and he halts.

"I know tonight didn't end so well" you both agree. The ride back home was quiet and all you could hear were the whispers of the wind, and it telling you to grow a pair.

"But i was wondering if you could stay the night" you hold your breath waiting for his answer. Jungkook's heart leaps for joy, that's a confirmation for him that you don't hate him. But maybe that's because you don't know the full truth yet

He knows it’s probably not going to be a light fall when the time comes.

"I can" he says walking towards you and you open the door to let him in.

"I really never want to lose you" he whispers to you before you shut the door.

"I know this is not better than being on a beach, but it's a good make-up" he says swinging your arms around. "Plus this is where we came for our-"

"Second date" you finish for him.

"Correct, when I made you my girlfriend" you smile when he turns to face you.

Mark is your first relationship that has ever made it past a year. You never thought you were going to end up a together, cause you were friends first, but you ended making official after deciding how much you liked each other and shared the same values.

Before dating you had spend a lot of time just hanging out as friends, but one night he had seemed to be fed up with just being friends and he asked you out. To which you said yes cause if how much he really fit into the box of what you were looking for.

But now that jungkook's come along you aren't sure of what you are really looking for.

You had so many bad experiences that when your relationship with mark hit a year. you began to overthink and wonder if it would end too, which caused a bit of a pull back from you but Mark assured you that he wanted you forever. Next thing you know you've been together for 2 years.

About a month after your 2 year anniversary you began to notice a pull back on mark's end.

It got you worried but you pushed away the thoughts thinking that maybe it was cause he had gotten a job a town away. Which had you two spending less time together.

You actually wanted to end it but he assured you that it was nothing and he was just stressed and that everything will be fine when he finds another job back home or if you move to him.

Moving out of town was a no from you and that caused a huge argument about how inconsiderate you are.

Next thing you know you're going weeks barely speaking to each other, he misses your birthday (bur tries to send a gift) and you meet jungkook.

And all of a sudden after meeting jungkook, Mark starts to care and be a better boyfriend.

Maybe you should've just moved to Mark.

"Let's take a picture" his voice snaps you back to reality.

"Yeah that would be cute" you say enthusiastically.

You snap a few photos with his phone looking like the most happy couple.

"Let me see them" you reach over to take his phone but he pulls back. You stare at him with knitted eyebrows.

"I'll send them to you" he rushes out his words. Instead of digging in deeper, you just nod.

"Let's go before it closes."

The sun is setting and you're sat in a restaurant.

"Today was fun" you smile at Mark who returns the smile.

You feel his warm hand still on yours as he admires your face.

"What?" You question him with a tint of blush on your cheek.

"I'm just thinking of how beautiful you are and how lucky I am to have you" he places a kiss on your hand. You can't help but relish in the feelings of Mark showing you affection again. You missed this, this is what you've been wanting.

But even through this reconciliation you can't help but think about jungkook and compare what you have with him to what you have with Mark.

"I want us to get better. Fall in love again" he says.

"You're saying that like we fell out of love" you say under a chuckle.

"No no that's not what I meant, I just want us to start again" you sit there listening to him as his thump strokes your hand. "Cause I really love you y/n. And I want to spend the rest of my life with you"

Normally the thought of spending the rest of your life with Mark should excite you, should make you happy and be the only thing that you want to do. But with jungkook in the picture you're unsure. Not unsure that there's something to hold on to with jungkook and what you could have (assuming he even wants to be with someone who had a boyfriend all along )

You begin to wonder If I would be worth it to leave Mark for Jungkook, what if jungkook decides to leave after you tell him then you'll end up alone at the end. but you'd have to tell Mark everything if you do decide to start over.

"Do you love me y/n" he asks voice vulnerable and weak.

" Huh?"

"Do you love me?"

You stare at him hoping hoping silence isn't too long to cause suspicion of doubt.

You guess it's time to make a decision.

" I do love you" you spit it. from the lens of a microscope your words carry a fib but you've already said it.

Mark smiles.

"Maybe we should think about you moving with me" his words take you back, moving out of town and in with him will mean a lot. It'll mean you'll have to find work in a new area and you don't know if you wanna go through that.

"If you're worried about a job, I already have something lined up for you" he says like he just read your mind. You wish he could read your mind so that you don’t have to tell him about jungkook yourself.

"What do you say babe?" He holds your hand tighter trying to evoke an answer.

Jungkook furrows his brows confused to why the lights in the apartment are dimed.

As the moves his hand to brighten the lights, ivy's voice stops him.

"Don't turn them on you're gonna destroy the ambience" she chuckles but jungkook doesn't find anything amusing.

"What's going on?" He says sounding tired. And frustrated.

"Why don't you sound happy, look what I did for you" she says maintaining a her bubbly persona.

Her hand wraps around Jungkook’s wrist to pull him to the dinner table.

He sighs when he sees the alignment of decorations and food set up.

"What's this ivy?" He groans

"I prepared dinner for us. So that we can start over."

He puffs out a gush of air. He's honestly tired of this and just wants it to end. He needs to break it to her for the last time.

"I won’t be here long enough for dinner" he says bluntly paying the table that had over and hour's worth of preparation no mind. Jungkook hears her light steps follow him.

"What do you mean" she watches him and gets even more confused when she watches him pull out a suitcase.

"Jungkook? "

"I'm moving out" he wishes he had done it earlier maybe it would've been better. Jungkook doesn't even get the chance to watch her face drop, too occupied with packing. He’ll return later on to collect the rest of his things.

"I found an apartment last week " he says the words stoically.

‘’jungkook, you can’t be serious’’ she begins to panic.

“ivy’’ he says softly and for the first time in a while he stares at her.

“im sorry’’ his words come out as genuine as ever. Even though things may have changed between the two of them, he still remember the love they had in the beginning and the girl she was before.

‘’kook what about us, we’ve been together since high school’’ tears fill her lines.

‘’I know, but maybe it’s time to move on.’’ He sighs ‘’I don’t wanna hurt you’’

She sniffles, ‘’well, do you hate me?’’

He shakes his head ‘’I don’t hate you, I never have’’

‘’I just don’t think we’re good for each other.’’

She places her hands on his chest in plea.

‘’kook I love you’’

He wraps his hands around her wrists to move them.

‘’I know, but I don’t think we’re good for each other’’

‘’we can start again.’’ She rushes her words out.

‘’you’re gonna be okay ivy’’ he walks past her.

It makes his heart hurt a little to do this but he knows its for the best. He always thought he’d end up with her forever.

Fell in love in high school and thought they were soulmates. But the world showed him otherwise.

Ivy began to change, got a little reckless and obsessed. Jungkook stayed thinking she would changed.

He noticed how she just got paranoid about thinking jungkook was cheating, when he wasn’t at that time. She got a little overbearing but he stayed for whatever stupid reason.

‘’I’ll call you when a get on the uber’’ you speak into the phone.

You haven’t spoken to jungkook in a while. He never called you. So you assumed he must’ve forgotten about you.

After thinking long and hard about it. You sent him a text about how you don’t think you could continue what you had and how sorry you are.

It hurt you to send that message but you had to. You couldn’t give up your life for someone you had just met.

Even though you haven’t told mark about it, you assume it would be alright as long you end it with jungkook.

He never responded so you assume he got the message. His lack of respond make sit easier for you to leave but it doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt your feelings.

You wonder how things went from zero to hundred and back to zero in a second.

But it’s reality, it’s not a fantasy where jungkook and you would end you together forever.

It was fun while it lasted.

When jungkook got your message, he couldn’t respond cause that’s not where he wanted to have this conversation. He wanted you talk to face to face to see if you’re really being serious.

He doubts though, you can’t just change overnight.

He hasn’t texted you in some time but you also haven’t called or texted him too. So he assumed you needed some time.

He had to settle down and figure out how he was going to tell you and fix all this.

He knows he’s been looking at this situation with rose coloured glasses on, but that doesn’t make what you have any less true.

You could work through it right?

Reading the text hurts jungkook every time, it confuses him too.

But he’s not going to let this go just like that.

‘’hold on’’ you call out when you her a knock at the door.

Your hand turns the nob and when the door open your heart sinks that you almost close the door.

‘’yn’’

He soft voice speaks and your heart breaks.

‘’jungkook’’

He watches the way you avoid eye contact.

‘’can I come in?’’

‘’I’m busy I have somewhere to go’’ you say trying to get him to go.

‘’yn please can we just talk’’

You sigh after your internal battle. You open the door to let him in.

When jungkook walks into your room he eyes the packed bags you have laid out, looks like you’re moving.

That explains why you’re dressed like you’re about to leave.

‘’you’re moving?’’ he asks but doesn’t stare at you.

You don’t answer but you feel how distant you from him. Peace is far from you right now.

‘’with who? Your boyfriend?’’ jungkook didn’t mean to say it but he did. He’s frustrated and a little angry.

‘’what?’’

You’re taken aback by his words and your heart begins to race.

‘’w-what are you talking about’’

‘’I know yn’’ he says softly and unmoved. His fingers in his pocket tap away.

‘’what do you know’’ you sound like an idiot right now.

Jungkook chuckles.

‘’I know’’ he says sounding a little shameful. His words confirming your thought and you sigh rubbing your head.

He walks around your counter and leans elbows against the surface.

His eyes on you feel heavy and they add pressure to your chest. You can’t tell what he’s thinking or feeling which makes it even worse.

Is he mad and came here you tell you off, or does he not mind. That’s not possible he definitely feels some type of way about it.

‘’I don’t care yn’’ he runs his hands over his face.

You don’t register his words before you speak.

‘’how? When did you find out’’ you lower your eyes to the ground and rub you hands over you arms feeling a wave of cold air wash over you. You feel embarrassed.

You feel like puking like the world is closing in.

It’s worse than how you felt when sana found out. You feel like a heavy weight crush over you. The pressure on your shoulders increase.

Jungkook doesn’t answer your question but his mind goes to the birthday card he found in you bag the first day you guys met.

‘’this isn’t how I wanted to tell you’’ you avoid his eye contact. ‘’I was going to tell going to tell you I swear’’ your voice wobbles as the lump in your throat enlarges.

Jungkook nibbles at his bottom lip. He knows by your reaction you probably didn’t hear what he said but he can’t help but feel a lump of his own form in his throat.

He walks over to you and you feel his warm arms wrap around you.

You’re confused to why he would even want to hug you right now, he should be mad. He should be pushing you away and telling how much he’s disappointed and doesn’t want to be with you.

Telling you how much you aren’t the girl he thought you were.

He should be mad, but the hand rubbing your cheek and wiping away a tear says otherwise.

He uses the hand on you cheek to lift your face. You watch his eyes stare into you. They’re soft and gentle, like he’s not mad. His thump rubs your cheek and your body unconsciously moves into his.

His other free hand moves to your lower back and pulls you in.

Your thoughts forgotten in second, you loved how he always was able to make you forget everything else.

‘’its okay’’ he says and you finally register his words. ‘’I don’t ‘’

‘’you don’t?’’ you ask voice, weak and soft.

‘’I don’t baby’’ he whispers softly against your lips.

You want to ask him why, but you can’t. especially when his lips are grazing yours. You feel that warm and familiar feeling of his lips as they peck yours slowly and passionately.

You close your eyes feeling the moment sink in.

Feeling his lips sink in.

You tilt your head to allow a better angle for him.

His lips hungrily interlock with yours. body pulling in deeper until it impossible but you don’t pull back.

you don’t want to.

but even if jungkook doesn’t care, you can’t let this go on. You’ve already agreed to restart with mark and you can’t let that go.

Its’s better for jungkook anyways.

And since it’s your last kiss with him you wanna feel every last taste of him. Every feel of his lip ring grazing your skin.

Your hands find their way to Jungkook’s neck and into his hair. You pull him even closer as your tongues graze each other’s mouth.

The light moans and grunts you release causes a wave to wash over him, like electricity.

He nibbles at your lower lip as his hands move to grope your ass.

You moan.

‘’jungkook’’ you say his name for no reason, but you cant think your mind is foggy and you’re out of breath.

‘’you make me so crazy…’’ he says before going back into overlapping your tongues.

He makes you so crazy too. So crazy that you forgot about the uber mark called for you.

But in this moment you couldn’t think of anything. With the way jungkook was holding on to you, you couldn’t.

He kissed you like you were the air he breathed, the air he needed.

The air he wanted.

This kiss too made him forget everything too, he has just restarted his life and he wants you to be apart of it.

His lip move to your neck and leaves kisses everywhere he can. You gasp and pull at his hair when you feel his hands roam your body.

‘’I only want you yn’’ his lips kiss you by your ear as he whispers ‘’I only want you…’’

His hands move to your thighs and squeezes lightly.

If you let this go any further it might be hard for you to leave.

‘’jungkook’’ you whimper out.

He hums and pulls head away from your neck.

‘’I can’t’’ you say with a heavy heart.

You watch how his face falls and it breaks your heart.

‘’im sorry, I did this, im sorry I dragged it out’’ your body pulls away and the cold seeps in. ‘’I shouldn’t’’ jungkook felt like he was having his heart ripped from his chest.

‘’im sorry’’

Jungkook wants to be mad but he remembers his own transgressions.

He did plan on telling you about ivy when he came here, but he just got so distracted.

And he doesn’t think he can tell you right now.

What would be the point anyway, you don’t want to be with him.

He watches you walk over to your bags and text someone.

He folds his hands into fists frustrated with himself for bring a coward and letting you go. But he can’t fight for you, what ground does he have to stand on. He’s a liar too.

And he doesn’t think he’d be able to tell you.

All this for you leave. He’s really hating himself right now.

But it’s not the right time for him to fight for you, it would only make you more confused.

‘’im sorry too’’ he’s apologising for many things some of which he should’ve told you about.

You listen to him speak. You were kinda hoping he would say more to make want you to stay, make you not want to leave.

Just something to make you realise you’re meant to be here with him.

But you guess there are none.

But it’s not his job to make you want to stay.

‘’Thank you for everything jungkook’’ you try to form a smile.

_-_

I'm glad I have this out of my drafts now. :)

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privateanxieties · 1 year ago

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forget my mercy, take my blame (chapter 3)

Summary: Returning to previous ways of life always comes with complications. Yours has an attitude and goes by the name of Frank.

Words: 3.1K (canon-typical violence, Frank being a little shit);

PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

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You don't know how many times you've abused the replay button by now, but your thumb returns to it without fail each time the video feed ends — a never ending loop, and it's up to you to break it. But, you know that once you do, you won't be able to sit still.

And Sam Collins isn't home yet. He's had a busy day.

You spent the first hour of staking out his place in wonderment. Last week, his life was normal. He was the average point of his demographic, and maybe even doing a little better than could've been expected given his background. He was enrolled in the local community college and had a steady job for three years at the only repairs shop in town. They do a little bit of everything. So does Sam, you suppose. He wakes up without a firearm permit on a Saturday, and that same day robs a bakery three towns away and shoots an old woman in the chest. Versatile guy.

The second hour — or rather, the first quarter of that second hour — was spent getting his girlfriend out of the house and inadvertently out of his life. All it took was a brief phone call with a sultry greeting by a woman's voice and she stormed off not long after, suitcase in tow. The neighboring houses were next, your supply of knockout gas swiftly depleted on the two families. The use of incapacitating agents with an expiration date four years in the past is dubious at best, and you hope the adverse effects will be limited. It's a good neighborhood with good people, not unlike yours. Neither you, nor him, deserve it.

Halfway through the third hour, you were done inspecting the inside of his house for weapons and blocking all electronics on a 900-foot radius. Signal jammers are still cheap six years after you've last used one, a discovery that doesn’t surprise you in the slightest. Returning to this kind of life is as easy as it’s always been, a built-in failsafe for all those thinking their path could somehow deviate. You'll have to see about other items, but for now, you're as close to your goal as you can get by yourself. All that's left is for him to come to you, the end of a strict work-home routine he's kept for the past week nearing. Now, you can finally breathe.

It's strange. You're at ease in a place you're not supposed to be, doing something no sane person does. You're comfortable in a way you haven't been in years. Visiting the range now and then doesn't help— at most, it takes the edge off. There's no satisfaction in putting holes through wood or paper, no success in taking down a target that's meant to be there. That suspicion you've always had can't be ignored anymore. You really aren't made of the same stuff as other people, and you'll never have the life they do. You talked yourself into that fantasy last time, and where did that get you? Back where you started: an injustice happens, it's your fault, and everything unravels. Even if you don't go looking for it, it always finds you. Cryptic words spoken by a gruff voice surface in your memory.

Once it starts, that shit never ends. It follows you everywhere. Every goddamn place you set foot in.

Nice. Prophetic, even.

The man wasn't wrong, on the face of it. Whatever he saw when looking at you that day, he clocked it without hesitation. He witnessed the tell-tale signs of aggression and regret and blistering anger, and he called it out with no pretense or judgment. Although, he was mistaken about one thing: the assumption that it hadn't already started, whatever this is. Your obsession, your curse? God's plan for you, if you believed in that sort of thing? You're not sure why he was trying to prevent you from going down this road back at the bakery. Did he think it would be your first time taking a life? Would he have said anything if he'd known it wasn't? A sigh sinks you further into the only armchair in Sam Collins' living room.

The replay button disappears under your thumb once more, and you've already memorized every inch of the space displayed on screen, every movement contained within it. The angle providing the best view comes from the camera right above your doormat, one nestled inside the wooden awning. Hazel's head is covered with her favorite scarf, the one her nephew had sent during his travels across India along with a bracelet for you, a sign of gratitude for the care you offered the only relative he had left. His grandmother had told him anecdotes about you, like she told anyone around town who would lend an ear.

You watch her try to prevent your house from being broken into, or so she thinks. You listen as she tries to shame the man into leaving, and then feel as your phone vibrates with the sound of the gunshot. She falls forward into the arms of her killer, and he drops her like she isn’t worth anything, a weak cry bellowing from the speakers as contact with the floor breaks fragile bone. Her head cracks open and pained moans are muffled into the ground. Wood creaks as rapid footsteps depart from the scene. Hazel's breaths keep coming for seventy-two seconds, and she falls quiet not long before they stop. The replay button taunts with its reincarnation. Your eyes close again, just like the first time you saw it.

A quarter hour more passes as you sit with your thoughts, and then, things begin to happen. It's almost 1 AM when the rumble of an engine comes to a halt in the driveway, matching what you expect his car, an '09 Subaru Impreza, to sound like after fourteen years of use. Sam’s weekend shift at the new diner is over and he has come home to another night of hypervigilance and paranoia, because today marks one week since he took his first life. You put away the phone and replace it with the suppressed Kimber, the same one you should've used when you first laid eyes on him.

It'll be simple. Clean. You'll air out your grievances and then it'll be over. This isn't like Auckney, and it isn't like Houghton, Roanoke, or Fargo. You aren't pretending you can return to the bakery and your quaint two-bedroom suburban house anymore, dragging out your days until the merry-go-round starts up again. You'll always end up back here, so why expect you'll ever do anything different? You like this. It's something you can do, and do well. If you aren't allowed an alternative, either by design or sheer bad luck, then you'll embrace the only thing that makes sense. This is who you are. It's who you've always been, and you see it clearly now that the fog of domesticity and kindness has dissipated for the final time. So you sit there in the dark, a phantom, because you want him to see too. You want him to wonder if his eyes are playing tricks on him, because reality would be too cruel. You want him to look at you and realize that he's right to feel the weight of what he's done and to glance over his shoulder at every turn. Most of all, you want Sam Collins to know it does follow you, and that for him, it's arrived without delay.

You're watching the short hallway before the front door, gun propped up against the velvet arm of the chair, a perpendicular line of sight granting the best opening. And then footsteps arrive— not from the entrance, but from the other end of the hallway. Quiet, gentle… expectant. Your eyes snap to in the second before a voice like a rumble fills the room.

"Didn't I tell you not to do this?"

One single breath has time to leave you before a man comes into view. You train the gun on him instinctively, knowing you don't have time to get to your feet if he's carrying.

But, he isn't. He has nothing in either hand, which you can be sure about because he's keeping both palms spread open and level with his head, the same gesture he adopted last time you had a weapon pointing at him. You're rattled, and you aren't so confident it doesn't show.

How the fuck is he here?

You run through several common-sense deductions in the brief time it takes him to come to a standstill in the middle of the hallway directly across from you. He's here. He's here , which means he's been following you and every movement you've made for the past week. His question leaves no doubt— he knows what you're here to do. He managed to enter the house without tripping any of your alarms. You don't want to risk it and take your eyes off him, but it's hard to resist the brief glance out the window to your left. You bite the inside of your cheek almost in punishment. It isn't a 2009 Subaru Impreza that's occupying the driveway, but a black tactical van with annex lights mounted overhead and no visible brand insignia.

He parked in front of the house , and you were so arrogant you didn't even fucking check that the right person had arrived. Your finger caresses the trigger.

"Don't do that. I'm not here to hurt you."

Both your eyebrows raise involuntarily. You've yet to take control of your body's reactions, and every second that passes makes it feel like the upper hand is being transferred to him, even if you’re the one holding the gun. While he's standing there in jeans and a button-up, casually looking like he has all the time in the world, you're becoming more and more aware of each moment that led to this fiasco. The way he's watching you without clear intent adds to your ire. He's as calm as can be and you're descending into chaos. It makes you seethe, and you haven't forgotten about the main problem.

"Where is he?" you ask, jaw so tense your teeth barely unclench.

Again, you're both on the same page. You don't need to say the name, and he sure as shit doesn't need to pretend he has no idea what you mean. His gaze remains impassive as it devours you. It feels like his eyes are trailing every inch of you, from the tense shoulders to the feet aching to stand, and especially your hands.

"Told him to take off. Leave town for a while," he says, the tiniest movement suggesting a shrug.

Your eyes lock on to his with renewed violence. You trigger one shot next to his head, lead embedding in the drywall behind him. Left-side, two inches.

You can’t accept that the situation isn't in your control anymore, because you aren't able to get over the fact that he didn't even flinch. Instead, his gaze has become even more unbearable, skewering you in place. He's doing everything a person might do to communicate just how unimpressed they are. You don't know how to respond besides letting off another shot. Your breathing is now audible in the otherwise quiet room. Left-side, half an inch.

"Alright. You feel better now? Want another go?"

He's mocking you with an amused drawl, threatening your composure even further by pretending to lower his hands.

"Tell you what— Why don't I just take off a finger?" you sneer at him, unable to sit down any longer and rising to your feet. The living room isn't that large. Only seven or so of his steps would be enough to close the distance between you.

"Nah. If you were gonna do that, you'd have done it already. You can put that down. If I wanted to hurt you, I would've shot you through the window."

What he doesn't say is that he could've done it at any time in the past week that you'd been unaware of his presence, and he doesn't say it precisely because he knows you know. Again. The harsh grip on the Kimber is starting to cramp your hand, but you can't relax.

"Look. I meant what I told you back there. Hell, I spent all week wonderin' what the hell I'm doing, getting involved in shit that's none of my business. Maybe I should've let you do what you feel you have to do. But if you're going to take a life, I'm here to ask you to reconsider . "

You say nothing, because it's hard to find something to say in response to things you can't believe you're hearing. He's here to make you reconsider. He's arguing from the wrong end of the gun for a man whose only future is death by your hand, and you can't figure out what would motivate him to do such a thing. The question that leaves your lips makes his quirk upwards.

"Who the fuck are you?"

"Frank," he answers with a grim smile. "Don't suppose you'll tell me who you are?"

He's mocking you. Of course. It's not like he doesn't know — just like he's known everything else so far. A bitter scowl fights to take over your features.

"Hey, Frank ? I'm giving you one minute to tell me where Sam Collins went, and I'm being generous."

"Wow. Thank you," he says dryly, and you've had just about enough of his attitude.

"No, really. Remember that trigger itch? What's your plan for when time runs out on it?"

"Are you a vet?" he counters with his own question, completely ignoring your threat.

You wonder if you're dealing with some kind of lunatic. His eyes narrow, but his expression remains serene. He hasn't lost an inch of his composure, and yet you feel something lurking beneath that resolute surface.

"Wha—"

"Military. D'you ever serve?" he clarifies, and you could swear his voice has changed. There's something imbibing every word of a very simple question, and you don't understand it or why he's even asking at all.

"What's it matter to you?" you deflect.

"It matters because that Warrior you're pointin' at me is issued to US Marine Corps only, and unless you served or took it off a dead Marine, ain't no way you'd have one."

It's hard to mask the tension once his words are left to hang in the air between you, and you suddenly become even more aware of how much your arms are aching. You've never played the long game like this, and there's never really been cause for aiming at someone and not shooting. Conversations like this are not part of your life experience, colorful as that may be. Although, they do seem to be part of his. Whoever Frank is, you get the impression he's about as single-minded and relentless as a person could get, and something within you is repelled by the notion of being in his presence. It's the way he exudes restraint and rage in equal measure that twists sharp metal between your ribs and leaves a bitter taste in the mouth. It's his posture, rigid yet somehow at ease, that makes your cheek tingle without the ringing echo of a slap to accompany it. You don't like the way he looks at you. You don't like how familiar it all is. Something spills forward that you have no chance of catching, and the damage is already done.

"I didn't take it off a dead Marine. A dead Marine left it to me after he blew his brains out with it," you spit out with no preamble, look so poisonous it'd be useful in a bottle.

His turn comes to say nothing in response to your mindless confession, but he doesn't have to speak in order to reveal exactly what he's thinking. You gather it all from his eyes as he stares you down.

"I take it he didn't do that out in the field."

His voice is the roughest you've heard it thus far. Your arms hold in them a deep ache but you don't know how to lower the gun, the very thing that seems to have brought him to you in the first place. He remarked on it the first time you met too. You couldn't have known he recognized its origins.

"Made no difference in his mind where he was," you speak as evenly as you can. "Just like it makes no difference that you're here. I won't reconsider. I don't care where Collins ran off to, or how far he's gotten. He took something from me. There's nowhere he can go where I won't find him."

The words help reinforce your conviction, and they also seem to resonate with him. Either that, or he wasn't very adamant about persuading you to reconsider in the first place, because he isn't showing any signs of annoyance at your declaration. He doesn't reply or refute it in any way. There’s no fight. If anything, he seems passive — not quite defeated, not quite determined to try again. It's all the same to you. Getting away from him and towards your goal is the only thing you care about. Enough time was wasted here.

You breathe in slowly, and when you look at him next, your mind locks on to a singular path.

"Frank? Turn around."

Judging by the crinkling of his eyes, your request amuses him.

"Gonna shoot me?" he grumbles, lowering his arms another inch.

"That depends on you. Now, you're going to turn around, walk out that door and get in your van. I want you to drive off into the sunset, never to be seen again. I've no reason to hurt you. But if you get in my way again, I'll have a reason. We clear?"

His mouth turns up in a half-smile. For perhaps the first time since meeting him, you don't find his expression as condescending as the rest of him.

"In that case, we might have a problem."

Your finger caresses the curved edge of the trigger.

"And why's that?"

There's fire in his eyes as well as in his words.

"Because the man you're looking for is in that van. And you should know…" His arms come to rest by his sides. There is a subtle tremor in your own. "His name isn't Collins— it's Huerta . You kill him, and you'll be starting a war."

-to be continued-

A/N: Let me know what you thought of this chapter! From here on out the story will move into different territory and we're going to get into some delicious interactions between Frank and Reader. These two have a lot of issues between them and we'll start seeing some of them👀

#frank castle x reader #frank castle x you #frank castle imagine #frank castle #frank castle x reader smut #the punisher x reader #frank castle fanfiction

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retrospective-d3c-a--y · 7 months ago

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Android

cw: BBU?ish, Implied whumpee death, Kidnapping, Abuse and SA (none in detail), Organ harvesting. Android whumpee/whumper/bad caretaker- Reprogramming, The works. Alcohol mention.

Android 391, Unit 5. Its story begins when it is finally bought and taken away from its makers and trainers. Its initially bought as a blank.

Moderately pretty thing. Comes in a box, preprogrammed to do whatever is commanded... although it is well known that the basic program does have issues following longer commands.

You can of course purchase the additional programming for a.. small fee, of course, the main two being romantic or scientific. Just as advertised in the instruction manual.

The organization that has bought it is not all that different from where it came from- Their activities are aggressive and involve kidnapping. Most of the kidnappees are turned into pets either to sell back to the program it came from or personal use within their facilities and families.

A391U5 spent half of its time entering, capturing evaders, and destroying homes, majority of the other time carrying heavy things across camp, and the rest getting beers for the men and being used relentlessly for what his main purpose was: sex and abuse. It was... fun for it's masters to see how much it could do. A couple years later, a scientist joins the upper ranks, creating a science unit. They demand the android, and they are permitted to have primary ownership. A new program is installed with ease.. done just before it's warranty was up. They called it wonderful. Perfect. Something about those words pleased A391U5. It was doing good... Both great things in according to its program.

A391U5 could not say the same thing about the work it did. It wasn't... displeased, or disappointed, or dissatisfied, or.. anything like that. It wasn't allowed to be. It had checked. But, well, tearing apart fleshy-beings and harvesting organs.. mutating some beyond saving... testing endurance, strength, intelligence, and more... only able to answer their pleads for it to stop with “The pursuit of knowledge waits for no creature", per their instructions.

A391U5 wasn't until it met Am[ERROR]-... Subject 482 it began to use its vast scientific knowledge to wonder how it might keep these pets alive a little longer. Subject 482, female, liked to treat it as if it were... human. Thanking it for feeding them all timingly. For administering medication to the youngest in Unit 480. Fixing minor issues in it's body, to the other's dissaproval. Subject 482 understood the wonder of such and invention of this android, it had declared. Telling it they knew "he" had to hurt them. That is wasn't "his" fault.

At the time, A391U5 did not understand. For one thing, it wasn't sure they were referring to it. It was not a "He". Not a "him" or "his"- surely these fragile beings knew full well it was an android. Additionally, it was clearly marked A391U5 and explained to them time and time again it stood for Android 391- Unit 5, not "Aegius". But any time they'd say it, no one else was around but the numbers and itself.

It was two thirds of a year of this nonsense- likely caused by their injuries and such, it was sure. Unit 480 dwindled down from 10 to 6 before they were able to escape. At first they asked Aegius it to go with them.

It.. couldn't help what it did to the first one who tried to drag it away. Blood splattered against their cage.

"Subject 487, male. Elimination estimation without care.. one hour. Reason: Bloodloss. Unit 480, please surrender yourselves and prepare for transport."

Unit 480 was horrified. Subject 482 still moved to him.. slowly. It didn't remember how it really went down. Shame, it's favorite (had it been permitted!) had to be eliminated....

It woke up in a place far away from what it had knew since it turned on. Some of its physical system had been damaged. This new programming, horribly shoved into it's usb port for such things, was malfunctioning. It wouldnt load properly. He could see it was a romantic file.. did subject 482 not know its old coding must be removed before it may be reprogrammed..? It had no need to keep its science memory module if it were to be used as a romantic now..

It certainly still wanted to be good for it's master. Both programs overlapped in that sense. Awkwardly, it shifted onto its knees and hands, crawling head down to its new master, subject 482. She was bleeding alot.. It was struggling to fill in the holes of what to do. Finding nothing useful about a bleeding master in its new programming, it searched over its old programming... using fire to seal up the wounds.

Familiar it was how Subject 482 screamed...

It was almost... comforting. It curled up on Subject 482 once it had roughly fixed the unit as it always had, letting out a small cooing noise. Shoving some of the protein pellets it had left over into her mouth. Its new programming said it may please its Owner. It sure hoped so... Keeping them all safe was the objective that made the most sense. Pleasing it was part of keeping them safe, right-?

It allowed Unit 480 and itself to be picked up by an unknown unit when it announced that they knew them. That they were being taken home.

#bbu oc #box boy universe #maybe??#whumpee #whumper #bad caretaker #whumpee turned whumper #whumper turned whumpee #whumpee turned caretaker #whumper turned caretaker #android whumpee #android whump #android whumper #android caretaker #whumpee death #RD- Aegius

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hyunsvngs · 1 year ago

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Skz and their love languages?

Here are my thoughts:

Chan - acts of service, 100%. Also a bit of physical touch. He just loves to take care of you in any and every way you need, and he loves cuddles, especially to sleep.

Minho - also acts of service, but in a different way to Chan. Where Channie loves to take care of you to see your precious smile afterwards and here you praise and thank him, for Minho it is a physical need to know you’re taken care of. He can’t sleep if he knows you haven’t had dinner yet, and sometimes he‘ll aggressively get you to just drink that damn water, it’s 30° outside, you fucking need it! Either that or he won’t talk about it at all. You come home after a long shift and there’s just some soup ready on the stove, possibly still hot because he made it only an hour, just in time if you had gotten out of work the time you were supposed to.

Changbin - words of affirmation and a bit of physical touch. You best believe that man has you showered in compliments 24/7, and it never gets boring. Also, although especially in the beginning he‘d never initiate it, he happily accepts every cuddle or hand to hold you offer him.

Hyunjin - gift giving. Specifically: self made gift giving, like pictures from a photo shoot he made with you, or a painting you were the muse for. He‘d also try to get quality time in whenever his schedule permits it.

Felix - physical touch. Just… nothing to add. We all know that man.

Seungmin - quality time. He may not show his love for you openly, but whenever he’s free, he calls or texts you and asks about your day, and if his schedule would permit it, he‘d love to spend the entire weekend with him out in a cabin by a lake.

I.N. - words of affirmation and physical touch. He likes compliments, like every other person, but he goes absolutely wild when you tell him you’re proud of him, he’s done so well etc. it’s just so comforting for him.

Excited for the update later!

~🤍

i love all of this but sicne i thinkkk u forgot sungie baby i’m gonna talk abt him. his love language is definitely being a princess. wants to be pampered. thrashes around and whines until u give him attention LMAOOo hes so baby girl.

so glad ur excited for the update BABY!!!! IM SO EXCITED FOR U ALL TO READ IT <3

♡ juno

#juno’s asks ♡#🤍 anon 💌#asks: ot8

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noodyl-blasstal · 1 year ago

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Hallmark Hate Club Part 1/2- Chapters 1-6

Hey - hey you! Wanna read the first 6 chapters of Hallmark Hate Club? Well great news, you can! The rest will be up tomorrow and boxing day.

Find them on A03, read Chapter 1 below:

At its peak, the Hallmark Hate Club had thrived. Seven years in though? Membership was thin on the ground.

It was easy to set up back then, December in Rockport was characterised by the inability to move without stumbling into busy professionals from Neverwinter looking for lumberjacks and bakers to save them from burnout. It was understanding that people were peeved to find the streets littered with big city adults with big city jobs who didn’t understand small town charm. Taako, and Lup hated it. Passionately. Magnus and Sloane used to hate it too… December was already busy, what with trying to get last minute orders together; baking endless sugar cookies; brewing endless cups of cocoa for cold nosed ice skaters who were giggly and love drunk; and definitely absolutely positively not laundering any money. It sucked, it sucked hard.

Taako and Lup were the founding members, Magnus joined soon after, and Sloane was a shoo in when she explained to Taako that she’d need to set up a regular cookie order with him because of the amount of lawyers who had suddenly started hanging around her cocoa stand (which definitely wasn’t a front for anything illegal, she just didn’t want a load of lawyers in her hair all the time - that was perfectly reasonable) relentlessly ordering things.

They’d had fifteen in their heyday and it was great, they supported each other whenever someone from the business factory skidded adorkably on their floors, or when they had to refuse to take anyone from out of town anywhere near an ice rink. It worked too. They watched horror movies and ate anti-romance snacks (Taako developed a whole menu), and bitched about how gullible everyone else was. And then it happened.

Or, more specifically, Julia happened.

They didn’t notice at first, they never did. That was a pattern. He mentioned someone he’d met at work, someone who’d come to his ancestral christmas tree farm who wasn’t like the other city slickers. She was interested in wood composition because of her research, she had career aspirations and loved her job and wasn’t stressed at all. They thought he was safe. He wasn’t. Magnus mentioned that it was refreshing to have someone come through town who wasn’t aggressively looking for romance. She’d told him that she didn’t buy into all that nonsense. They’d all found it refreshing too. Until it wasn’t. Until he started missing Hate Club nights. Until he told them she was different in a new way, in a lovesick way, in exactly the way they were all used to hearing from the people who got got. And sure, Julia had moved here but kept her job, she went back on research projects but largely worked from home. And sure, Taako liked her, thought she was great in fact. But none of that changed anything. None of that altered the fact that Magnus betrayed them.

Sloane went last year.

Lup said she didn’t blame her, that it could happen to anyone, but Taako wasn’t convinced. He’d seen the beginnings of it. She could have avoided it. Sloane handed over a cocoa to one of the many interchangeable lawyers circling her stand, he turned too fast - enraptured by the sound of jingle bells on one of the sleigh rides shooting about town and making the roads dangerous (no one knew where the fuck the things came from. He’d brought it up at town meetings and there were no permits, no permissions, and no one recognised the drivers, but the ‘Garfield’s showed up every year to clog up the roads and leave horse shit everywhere.) The cocoa spilled all over Hurley. A complete stranger. Someone Sloane had absolutely no need to concern herself with. Instead, she offered her a towel. That was it.

Taako thought it was done once Hurley mentioned that she was chief of police in Goldcliff. Double done once she started talking about feeling burnt out. Taako tried valiantly to derail things while he finished delivering and racking the cookies for Sloane each day and she ignored him. Just like Magnus had ignored him. Sloane started to just be around less, and less, and less again, until they realised that she hadn’t come to a meeting in six weeks. Then they knew. They got married in Spring. Taako made the cake. It had ten layers. It was fucking delicious.

And now, so what if there were only three of them left? So what if Johnann hadn’t been to a meeting in weeks? It probably didn’t mean anything. It didn’t mean he’d been got.

Lup sighs heavily and leans against him. "It got Johann." She turns her phone to Taako.

“Wait, what? Avi’s famous? Avi’s famous famous??? Fuck. How did we not notice?”

“It says here that he specifically didn’t tell anyone because he wanted to stay “low key” while he was in town.” Lup points to the line in the article.

Taako’s wants desperately to bite something. Hard. “Uh huh.”

“But then he saw Johann playing at the coffee shop open mic.”

“Of course he did.”

“And now they’re married and living in his penthouse apartment and Johann’s got a sell out world tour booked in.”

“It’s only been two weeks!”

Lup shrugs. “You know how it goes.”

“He didn’t even invite us to the wedding!”

“It says here they kept it small.” Lup points to the caption underneath a photo of Johann and Avi on a beach looking disgustingly happy.

“Sometimes I think this place is cursed.”

“I think they enjoy it, Taako. They seem happy.”

“Well Taako certainly doesn’t, and neither do you, right?”

“Right.” Says Lup. “It’s gross.”

Taako puts his serious face on. “This year we need to be extra careful, LuLu. We’re the only ones left.”

“Of course, we’ll be on top of it. We know the signs. No one’s coming for the Tacco twins.”

“Hey now, that’s not fair, Taako’s excellent with his ha…”

“No! Gross! Bad! You will not finish that sentence.” Lup nudges Taako hard with her elbow.

Taako snorts out a laugh and shoves her sideways. “Not getting got pact?” He offers out a crooked little finger for the traditional deal.

“Not getting got.” Lup sits up and hooks her finger round his.

“One! Two! Three! No romance!"

Chapter 2 here.

#Hallmark Hate Club #Taakitz #Blupjeans #Taako #Kravitz #TAZ Balance #The Adventure Zone #Taz fic #Noodyl Writes

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destinyimage · 7 months ago

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Unleashing Heavenly Authority: Operate in Your Place in the Spiritual Realm

The centurion answered and said, “Lord…only speak a word, and my servant will be healed. For I also am a man under authority, having soldiers under me. And I say to this one, ‘Go,’ and he goes; and to another, ‘Come,’ and he comes; and to my servant, ‘Do this,’ and he does it.” When Jesus heard it, He marveled, and said… “I have not found such great faith, not even in Israel! …Go your way; and as you have believed, so let it be done for you.” And his servant was healed that same hour (Matthew 8:8-10,13 NKJV).

We like to be around powerful people, but we need to ask ourselves, “Is this person’s power under authority?”

Power combines ability and energy and force, while authority is the right and permission to use that power. Authority is the right to use power effectively, not because you could, but because you should. Authority makes power legal.

Therefore, authority is more important than power. Teenagers may have the power to leave home, but they do not yet have the authority to leave. A person may be very aggressive and loud in speaking, but if they do not have authority, their words will not carry weight.

Submission to authority is what makes a person effective.

See also how the centurion’s military experience gave him a more complete understanding of the way authority works. He was completely submitted to the Roman emperor and any other commanders who ranked above him. He had at least a hundred soldiers who reported directly to him. (The title centurion is related to the word century, which indicates one hundred.) Probably he had been watching Jesus. He may have seen Him healing the sick, raising the dead, casting out demons, and more. Obviously, this man Jesus had power. Obviously some higher Authority was guiding Him. He knew that a person’s performance depended upon his obedience to the instructions he had been given.

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In the same way, if we want to experience God’s best for our lives, we must stay under His authority—then we will be heard and answered.

When you submit to God’s authority, you will live your best life.

Keys to the Kingdom and Victory

[Jesus said,] “I will give you the keys (authority) of the kingdom of heaven; and whatever you bind [forbid, declare to be improper and unlawful] on earth will have [already] been bound in heaven, and whatever you loose [permit, declare lawful] on earth will have [already] been loosed in heaven” (Matthew 16:19 AMP).

Citizens of the Kingdom have a responsibility to learn the words of the Bible. We need to read it often, because we tend to forget what it says. We need to read it more often than we read the newspaper. When the devil attacked Jesus in the wilderness, His responses came straight from Scripture. He said, “It is written” (see Luke 4:1-13). Those words were His keys to the Kingdom and victory.

Jesus said, “Most assuredly, I say to you, the Son can do nothing of Himself, but what He sees the Father do; for whatever He does, the Son also does in like manner” (John 5:19 NKJV). He exercised the keys of Kingdom authority better than anyone before or since. Yet He, true Prince that He is, wants nothing more than for the citizens of His Kingdom to exercise those same keys.

You need to do only two things: 1) seek the Kingdom in order to get into citizenship; and 2) seek the King’s righteousness in order to stay in it. In other words, stay aligned with the King. When you stay aligned with the King and His government, you obligate Him to take care of you. All of the promises in the Constitution remain accessible to you, as needed. Things that you would otherwise need to fight for will come your way with no sweat.

“It is written” is the key to the Kingdom of Heaven and to your everyday victory—read God’s Word faithfully.

Prayer

[Jesus said,] “In this manner, therefore, pray: Our Father in heaven, hallowed be Your name. Your kingdom come. Your will be done on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors. And do not lead us into temptation, but deliver us from the evil one. For Yours is the kingdom and the power and the glory forever. Amen” (Matthew 6:9-13 NKJV).

Prayer itself does not get things done—positioning in prayer gets things done. The best preparation for prayer is your obedience to the laws of God. Many times, the reason God can’t help you is because you ask Him last. Only by staying aligned with the Lawgiver and Judge, through the work of the Spirit and Son, can you prevail.

Have you noticed that if you have just sinned, you are unable to find boldness in prayer? When you break God’s law, it shuts down your prayer life. You have canceled your right to appeal. “If I regard iniquity in my heart, the Lord will not hear me” (Psalm 66:18 KJV). The prophet Isaiah stated it clearly: “But your iniquities have separated you from your God; and your sins have hidden His face from you, so that He will not hear” (Isaiah 59:2 NKJV).

It won’t matter how loudly you beg for mercy and cry out for help, because God does not bless you because you cry; He blesses you because you qualify. Believers have authority in prayer as long as they have maintained their side of their covenant with the King, a legal agreement. You don’t have to go before Him with theatrics or hysterics any more than a lawyer would go before an earthly judge that way. You just have to be a citizen in good standing, and the Judge will hear your case.

“The earnest prayer of a righteous person has great power and produces wonderful results” (James 5:16 NLT).

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potroasttheghostdogpontificates · 8 months ago

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Time for my first rant about politics here. Warning, long, left, angry, and ranty. Grab a snack if you wanna read.

I've become completely exhausted with the white center left. I'm tired and frankly, over these past four years I've come to despise them. I'm making the express decision to abandon platforms like reddit for political discussion, because even though there are a plethora of actual left spaces, the actually welcoming ones to anarchists and anti-war leftists have been settled and colonized nearly totally by liberals and they regularly brigade them, stirring the pot to run cover for this latest crop of neocon democrat fuckery.

I don't think I've ever been disappointed by a political affiliation before. I expect the fascists to have monster brained takes. I expect neocons to call any dissenting opinion about the status quo in my home country of America traitorous. But here we are. The party I supported for nearly a decade and a half, voting for them in literally every election I've ever been legally permitted to vote in from school board to president, my supposed allies even if they weren't 100% as cool as I'd like them to be; throwing a tantrum at the latest failures of electoralism and ineffective neoliberal governance, but flinging shit in the wrong direction. Four years of this after voting for the guy they told me to, even though I wasn't happy about it, and I'm done. I'm tired of it. I can't anymore y'all. Too much bullshit to swallow from the neoliberal center. I knew Biden was going to suck, but I didn't expect the bastard to be so outwardly hostile to everything I'd like to see.

This administration, the liberals have completely shown their ass. The absolutely vile whataboutisms, hostility, doublespeak, rahrah hyper-patriotism, excuses for genocide, vote and value shaming, needless argumentstion, smug condescension and snippering, and simpering cowardice from them has just made me hostile to them and any space they occupy.

I was one of those leftists. The ones who USED to say: "Well it's liberals. They aren't gonna grill us for food, so they aren't THAT bad. Outreach is important, and they're probably amenable to leftism if we remember to extend the olive branch when they reach out. No hon your aunt with the 'I'm With Her' bumper sticker isn't the enemy".

This administration and the actions and voices of their supporters has changed that, radically. Out of all the things that radicalized me, I didn't expect the most extreme radicalization I would experience would be from the motherfucking "gOoD gUy" party. These people have got me in marxist-leninist spaces that excuse the authoritarian actions of places like China, NK, and Russia, because they seem to be the only ones talking sense about what this administration has done and is trying to continue doing. The anarchist spaces currently have to cut through the chaff of an aggressive liberal infestation to even begin to discuss genocide with a sensible head on their shoulders. But the tankies hate them about as much as I have come to, and their zero tolerance stance has at least allowed a breath of clean air while trying to discuss an actual left position.

I should clarify that this goes BEYOND Palestine, by the way.

Tokens. Get. Spent.

As a nonbinary person of color, I've become disgusted by the white center tokenizing trans people to excuse the blatant fact that the democrats AND the republicans have voluntarily entered into an arms race over who can be more draconian on policing black people and shutting down the border to keep out latin people. There are other marginalized people out there people. Communities that are being made invisible so that the token can be used as a get-out-of-jail-free card, because both parties benefit from keeping them under boot. To the trans people out there who think the dems have our back, baby, they don't.

Remember this line. It was to explain to people of color latching onto right-wing movements to secure their safety the reality of their situation:

I had to learn that as a biracial person, so I don't have to learn that as a queer person. To those who haven't, keep it to breast, and watch carefully. This is how it starts. They aren't coming for you yet because they can squeeze some press out of you. That will pass. It always does. Ask brown skinned latin/south americans. The dems used to campaign on how they're treated so poorly under Trump because of his and his party's racism (they have, here in the US). Trump's successor just called them all vicious invaders in a god damn State of The Union, holding up a photo of a white woman and telling a sob story about her death at the hands of "a violent illegal" to appeal to scared white racists, because he's afraid his genocidal aspirations might cost him an election among his hostaged progressive voter base. If Spike Lee had put that in a movie, Renni Eddo-Lodge would ask him to tone it down a little.

They speak out of both sides of their mouths, saying in one breath that we should all set aside our differences and kingmake THEIR chosen and work together to fight the fascists and how they NEED us to save everyone (when they aren't sure they can win an election). Then in the next, sneer with contempt about how they never needed us in the first place and will win this election without the interference of the "children" who dissent to their spiral into fascism, (when they think they have the election locked up or just won one), which they either see it and love it, or are too smug to see it. They tried that in 2016. They still aren't over the sore asses they got from it, even though they're milking the loss for all it's worth, because they keep pushing absolutely atrocious candidates as if it's their "due", because Trump's existence and a post-Trump world are the only places people like that could even hope to be politically viable anymore as zero hour approaches in America. Biden and Clinton needed that scumbag to win a presidency, which is why the party gambled with him in 2020 rather than hand the nomination to Sanders, the more popular, more left candidate. They'd rather gamble with the only ones who could lose to this guy than cede the fact that the voter base has moved more left than they'd like.

"Sorry idealists but unfortunately, "not genocide" isn't on the ballot this year" isn't a fucking excuse, no matter how many times you say that to me. If it is true, fuck that ballot. If it isn't, fuck you for lying. Also, fuck you, the fuck it isn't. There are plenty of anti-genocide candidates running in this election, it just requires the bare minimum of due diligence from the electorate to find the candidates running. Claudia de la Cruz, despite being absolutely buried by pop coverage of this election to where you basically have to be told she exists or stumble upon her by accident, has what might be exactly what the left wants, or at least I do, as far as incremnetalist progress goes, and what the liberals claimed they wanted during Trump. Anti-capitalist expansion, anti-war, pro-marginalized, anti-fascism. But yet, all the pro-Biden camp has to say about her is "who?" and "oh so nobody then". What a genuinely contemptible, vile thing for a person to say.

I expect that from conservatives, but not democrats. Oh wait. And yet, leftists tired of the decades of compromise with the viper that is the center are "politically uninformed" or "unengaged/uneducated voters just doing what the tv tells them to do" because we say Biden as a president has been far worse than we anticipated and has moved to the right of Reagan and Eisenhower in terms of policing and Israel, to where it should be unteneble that he is allowed to occupy the nomination that claims to be left, as if their complete snow-blindness (and I choose that word very carefully) for candidates other than what the Democrat Party Brass feeds them is anything other than political laziness.

Liberals have shown me that for all their fluff about caring about the downtrodden, about doing what's right, it's smoke. Add a qualifier to every stance they have: "--until/unless I can justify it".

They bitch and moan about social media like TikTok as if it's a bastion of misinformation (it is, like all social media) but don't challenge hegemonic media even when they blatantly lie, and no, "just Fox" doesn't fucking count anymore, when multiple outlets have gotten their nuts nailed in scandal, ESPECIALLY regarding Israel (Not a peep when CNN literally reversed the x-axis on a graph to drum up white fear about crime that actually wasn't being reported, for example). No eyebrows raised when TikTok and only TikTok gets limitations put on it to "protect users from disinformation", when literally a few years back the founder of Facebook was getting interrogated by the state for getting caught selling personal information to the highest bidder for profit and having literally zero interest in curtailing the storm of lies being circulated by the platform.

Social media limitation without information and privacy protections and reforms is propaganda effort, simple as, and the fact that TikTok has a lot of young people, the demographic that skews the furthest left and TikTok being the platform that has been sharing most of the horrors happening in Gaza without a spin, should make people concerned when it amd only it is being targeted for "misinformation". The government is targeting the social paltform most outspokenly against what it is doing and getting its fingers into it to silence it. I don't even use TikTok, but I'm old enough to know what a damage control narrative looks like from a politician.

When the dems have, without prompting, threatened to sic the FBI on pro-Palestine protests to "investigate ties to Russia and China" that shows us that the dems are perfectly content to get authoritarian when you don't make shit easy for them. Pelosi walked that shit back, AFTER she got called out for it, but remember the old adage: "When someone tells you who they are, believe them". No one prompted that outburst from her. That's her true face. Sure she dressed it up in cute weasel words about how "they'll be subject to due process and it's just an investigation" blah blah blah, but anyone who has even a working understanding of McCarthyism amd protest strategy should tell you why you shouldn't ever EVER cooperate with that. McCarthy "just wanted to make sure" too. It just so happens that "making sure" under a hierarchical government involves being arrested, (and considering our police force, brutalized in the process) scared shitless, threatened, detained (and as long as they like to) until they've decided they can no longer politically survive the jailings/deaths. The byproduct of this rhetoric is of course you don't need to try someone as a traitor to treat them like one and kill a protest, so you get the dual benefit of authoritarianingly(?) kill a protest of your government and pretend you're a just government of the people. Don't buy it. Accusation will be enough to kill a protest stone dead if you spook enough people, because all of our lives are already dangling by a thread. It's risking enough to take time off work when a few hours of pay can determine eating or going hungry for a week for far too many people in this god-forsaken country, it's a deatb sentence to be tried as a criminal. It worked for McCarthy, don't let these milquetoast posh versions of Reaganites pull the same stunt. At least McCarthy had enough sack to be an evil bastard publicly instead of simpering when interrogated.

"I'm against racism..... until I can justify it" "I'm against war.... unless I can justify it" " I'm against draconian borders..... unless I can justify it" "I reject genocide.... until I can justify it". "And we'll kill you if you resist enough".

Makes em seem a lot more honest when you put it that way.

I hate how cowardly they defend this shit. I hate that I have to add parentheses to highlight the obvious to points I make that no leftist would actually make, on the off-chance that some miserable Biden campaign social media quote-doctors me into a republican.

They pretend that they're the politically engaged, they're the "big picture" "adult" voters, or, even more egregiously, that they're the empathetic ones.

If you keep a rabid dog loose in your yard, you save a shit load of money not having to build a fence. Controlled opposition is manipulation.

Single-issue is fucking rich, considering the only defense they can angle for this guy at this point is "but trans people though!" As if any of the bones they toss will actually make the situation for trans people better. It's liberal identity politics at its absolute pathetic.

Trans people can join the army again! (If they can survive the rampant bullying, sexual assault, and white supremacy in the armed forced that no one in authority has any intention of addressing and face no threat of repercussion for that failure because the US increases their budget every year with no regards to stopping for any reason)

If trans kids get misgendered or their pronouns disrespected at school, they can sue! (Provided they have access to the means of effective legal representation and aren't under a judge who is not amenable to their side of the issue, which is unlikely due to the inroads of privilege necessary to become a judge in the first place ensures that a frighteningly big percentage of them are white, upper-middle-class and above, conservative, and isolated from the community at large.)

Good news! Trans people won't be discriminated against in hiring! (Until the EO times out because let's face it, they aren't gonna draft an amendment to enshrine that federally any time soon, and also ignoring the fact that a majority of hiring discrimintaion happens under the table and in secret, and is facilitated by at-will employment practices and allowances, AND a majority of trans-discrimination in the workplace happens after hiring, when trans people start to publicly transition where they face bullying or firings). Do nothing about the plethora of anti-trans bills worming their way through the legal system on this country, meaning the trams community has a literal ticking clock over them. (Unless they help the republicans pass them like in West Virginia). Do nothing about homelessness being a death sentence that is nearly impossible to escape or seek aid for, even though the trans community is disproportionally homeless because of bigoted families disowning them. No, they won't ever ever be allowed to go to the doctor or safely access transitionary care without a shitload of front-loaded privilege to financial stability that only some have.

We did it! Trans people saved. Now vote for us. Because we burned the black vote bridge with our vicious policing practices even after pretending to side with them during the 2020 protests, and the hispanic vote bridge with our scapegoating of them and our draconian border, migrant, and asylum policies, and the arab vote bridge with our blatant spreading of misinformation about a genocide facing their people and families. Screw the poor, black people, arab people, hispanic people (but only the brown ones, if you don't have an accent or melanin we won't be able to tell and will let you do as you please), leftists, protestors, and trans people (eventually) but we aren't gonna bite you trans people. Vote. Do it. Do it now. You don't wanna see what will happen to you if you don't. Oh no not us. Just an associate. We won't stop them if they come for you. Give us all the authority over you so we can prevent it. We'll do it this time, we swear.

"You're a single issue voter, like a loser" says the liberal to the person who opposes genocide regardless of party (it's a pretty big fucking issue, no?) But this is the person who sees the state of affairs and says "but trans people" without even asking them what they need to survive. How dare you dangle their lives for political gains because you're too cowardly to fight your own battles. My fellow trans people, don't swallow this. All they're doing with their "buying time" is allowing the situation to decay unseen for a few more years, after which, it will be too late to stop things becoming catastrophically bad unless we literally fight for our lives.

If you've read this far, you've already been here for days. Took me a while to organize my thoughts in downtime between work. So one final point so we aren't both here for weeks.

I can't stand the sneeringly condescension if liberalism-as-default as a method to defend their position. They bite back on leftists who don't support the center as "well there's no leftist on the ballot right now. Why do you always 'pull this' during election season instead of a ground-up movement over time?? Bring me a leftist and I'll vote for him." Or my favorite, "what are YOU doing about it??" I hate this counterargument for multiple reasons. Let's have some fun with formatting and list them.

It tacitly admits that the speaker doesn't support anything for an ideological reason. They support people who can "win" neoliberal electoralism and nothing more. They care about winning. Doesn't matter who does or for what reason. They support the establishment, for better or worse.

This is also taking as read the idea that they will not support leftism in any meaningful capacity until it reaches hegemonic status, despite (or perhaps because of) it needing support from multple sources to get to that point at all. A Catch-22 from someone who is basically saying "I refuse to cooperate with you until you get me to cooperate with you and you become the default which requires me cooperating with you". They won't help the left get off the ground, even though it needs them at least out of the way to do so, but will say they will get out of the way once it does get off the ground. This is why the left says the liberals hold progressives and leftists "hostage"

It demands the left do the work of justifying and legitimizing itself to compare to THEIR chosen default, while admitting they have zero intention of doing the same. Liberalism is default. Therefore, the left has to justify itself, the liberals don't, and anyone who asks them to is being disingenuous or unfair. They demand legitimization from their opposition, and won't give it.

They are admitting they have been ignoring leftism and only pay attention during election season, because it threatens their hegemony.

They are ignoring the fact that the reason the left raises so much stink during election season is because the candidates claiming to be left and what the center champions as what leftists supposedly want have yet again slid right to win said election. The left is sounding the alarm bell as it happens. It's not the left's fault the center is choosing, yet again, to ignore it.

They're pretending that the center and right won't unite to kill the left if it ever DOES get that far, even without them (more than likely because that would include themselves in the ranks, and that's a bad look when trying to high-horse a political discussion with a leftist). This includes party formation or any sort of on-the-ground organization like protests. The left will be killed stone-dead unless the center starts putting its money where its mouth is, because the center will be the one holding the knife. They know this. They don't want you to. Ruins the surprise.

They're demanding you fix the problem they made while also refusing to compromise with you to do so. "We've done nothing and we're all put of ideas" has gone from a derogative to an accusation. Liberals have shown themselves to be painfully bad at media analysis.

It's a blatant trap to bait out organizational efforts from psy-ops to break them or infiltrate them. Chances are higher than you might think that someone asking you how you organize is a cop trying to insert operatives into the ranks to disrupt. The liberals trying to ask "well how are YOU organizing?" are doing the oppressors work for them, even if unintentional.

The demand for organization of politicial ingress into hierarchical electoralism while ignoring the truth that for organization of that level to even get off the ground requires a degree of privilege and legitimization that the left has been barred from accessing outside of violent revolution, while also quietly admitting they don't intend to give that to them unless they take it, and they will resist them taking it

And that's it for now. Rant over.

Jeez did you get all this way? I'm impressed. And thanks for hearing me out. As a reward, if you feel slighted by my words, here are some verbal face pets to ease my point and position.

No, I don't vote shame. If you do vote for the dems, either because you support them ideologically, vote tactically and genuinely believe they are a good option, don't vote, or vote third party, you won't get any oushback from me. I'm an anarchist. I believe it's your right, completely and fully, to do whatever you want with that vote of yours. If you want Biden to represent you, go for it. I do not. Under any circumstances. If you vote tactically or genuinely believe in them to protect queer people or stop the onslaught of the right, if you believe that neoliberal electoralism will help us, I don't think you're evil, I believe you're misled. I feel upset on your behalf that you've been lied to. No, I don't think you're unintelligent, young, gullible, or naive. I believe you've been lied to. You can't be "enlightened" or whatever you personally call being woke if you've never seen what the truth looks like. I don't blame a propagandized people for being propagandized. You don't blame a person for believing a lie. You get angry at the liar for deceiving them.

If you think Trump might be worse, you're probably not wrong. He's an ugly kind of neoliberal, the kind that has melted into a fascist. But if you think he DEFINITELY will be, I genuinely believe you to have not been paying enough attention. Will he be better? Absolutely fucking not. No way in hell. See? There's that clarification and emphasis that I have to do to prevent bad-faith characterization that will happen anyway again. But if you can't recognize Biden as a lateral move at best, I honestly don't trust you. Sorry, but I don't. Shit's bad out here for more than white queers. Please remember that. The LGBTQ community is not a hegemonic white one. Liberals don't have a target on your back, yet, but that's because it's easier to shoot at us first. The cops Biden and Harris like putting on the streets won't ask me my pronouns before they gun me down. They're gonna see my afro-textured hair and skin-color first, and go off that. They're gonna see me at a protest and declare me a dissident before they even ask me about my bisexual spreadsheet. Solidarity is important, because they're coming for us all. Avoid class reductionism AND neoliberal identity politics. Both poison the well.

To all the white trans people who are fucking scared, I see you. We're all scared. I don't mean to diminish this fear or disregard it, because I get it. These bastard hegemons at the top think they can push and pull us using the fear they themselves create to turn us against each other. I remind you not to fear. If they could have destroyed us they would have succeeded long ago. I have zero faith things will even be in a staid equilibrium under Biden's next term. Mutual aid will survive literally anything these bastards can throw at us all, but we must remember to stay true to our values and communities and remember solidarity to the allies. We will get through this like we have everything else, I promise. I stand with you. I intend to fight for you if I have to. Most everyone on the left will. Electoralism for neocons like Biden and what the dems are trying to shove down our throats will not, remember that. Vote, if you want, but don't trust them to save us. He thinks protecting your pronouns in school are enough but won't expand hate crime laws. He's jerking us around.

And that's it. Here's some genuine literal face pats to thank you for hearing me out. Go with peace and happiness and love. Love strong and live your truth. And fuck these god damn liberals. Solidarity, support. We're gonna get through this, together, like we always have, without their help.

#anti-neoliberal #anarchism #leftism #rants #electoralism #solidarity #anti racism #anti capitalism #anti genocide #american elections #acab1312

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the-firebird69 · 9 months ago

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Feel a few things coming up on the radar and everybody is trying to get big and we do see something they are juicing and trying to get here a juice to punta Gorda so if you see what that is all around and I think it's because they're opposing the pseudo empire and minority morlock

-it's a couple other things happen and they are pretty big there is Giant number of people who are trying to take each other's shifts especially the warlock they're trying to take the pseudo empire ships and what's going on now

-there's a huge amount of fighting in the northwest of Florida and in the inside elbow of the panhandle and it is over the three tunnels is because they're almost empty and they're trying to fight over ships and controlling the tunnel they're not remove anything and the fighting has stalled it out they actually needed that

-there's a couple other things happening people are singing the blues because they notified social security and then there's a saying honestly that they didn't and then they say it is the payroll machine and if you issue it after a certain amount of time no if you issue it it's issues I'm so they are upset and forgot about it and thought it was going to be issued out of the slush fund or general spending a front account and they said no even a bonus is a wage and accounts as a wage and it does and otherwise it is called a stipend or reimbursement and that's another thing that reimbursements they owe them for using his private vehicle and a couple other things are having them use his personal phone and things like that and he put in for reimbursement they did not pay him they only paid him a little and then they stop paying him and they are huge assholes you know something the wrong way and they started to feel it and started to blame him for real is not true they did get fairly beat up from it but it is another about 45,000 over all of them wasn't that much but if you include gas which you should and do the proper mileage which they never do and they were walking by it's about $90,000 so he's up to about $950,000 Susan bad it's almost enough to move and it's not enough you can find a place but he won't get that money all at once he'll probably come over. Half a year or more probably a year depending but at this rate it might be a little sooner.

-just a few other things going on trying to remember it and crew of being scrutinized for the government and they are going to be apprehended.

-there are a couple other things a lot of people are delusional here and they are seriously with their mental patients they don't think so but boy they're laid down and shows and they're not going anywhere with anything ever and it would not surprise anyway there are a few other things happening

-I'm there are a large number of people who are obsessed with bothering him we see who and they all want to say something and they're all giving me high and people say no and it's going to start fights but they're useless here this is terrible we need them out and we need a bunch out there are more things happening and interesting things

-along with campers and modular homes there is a movement of people who want to move their houses it's a trick and they're not prefab and you have to move the slab and love it has to be done on the road some of them are not so big all of them require tons of permitting and it takes a lot of effort it's only going to be like 5 million homes but it has started

-there are a few more things going on and I'd like to see that we do have an issue with them every few minutes and it's not acceptable I will start doing something every few minutes

-there are other things happening and they're very sizable the atmosphere in Charlotte county is changing to some sort of hustle and bustle and some sort of quick flick of the wrist and very obstinate behavior still and very ornery

-pebbles on the right additionally we are assumed they were very aggressive behavior too from old people a lot of them and it pushes the others around and they really can't take it there have been a lot of death from stress and Shawn county but the number is not significant

-lots and lots of people here I have not rested for a year and it shows and a lot of them are going to keel over they will fall over dead soon and others are going to go off and do something out dumb. And it is beginning to show

-there are a few who need to leave but really we have an issue with most of them there I've seen. And really don't have it to back it up but their job is when the houses of years too much what you're doing. Some other anomalies

-as soon as always strapped for cash he doesn't have money to pay for miscellaneous items they always trying to get him to buy stuff he don't like that and then they come by and they help him get by and we don't like that. Truthfully it's a system that doesn't help them and they're taking huge huge losses and not caring it's a different time and you'll lose but in the meantime he needs a system in place since we're going to have to put up with it and that system is beginning and they found out in the pseudo empire that the higher-ups want him to be paid the money they owe him at this time they're saying it's part of the schedule and it's our plan and we are not meeting people to him on purpose. And they started looking around and no they said it makes sense and they're working on trying to get it here and Michael too stood up and he said I hear him now who's on the influence now he didn't I said it's kind of insightful and when you try and figure it out it's not as hard it's going through all this strange guesses and hard math and timing and who was present years ago they come out and tell you what they're doing it is true it's almost pleasant but it's not it's a relief. So three of the bosses are going to try and one that might even be Bob March and Michael to Daniel and Tim Doyle's thinking about it although we don't know if he has anything so that's fun. Very subjective to it in a son and daughter say it's kind of a really tough time but it's something worth studying every day for 15 minutes and people start to think about this it's really hard everyone tries to get you not to see you start thinking of it it does work. And bja is trying to be open to it seeing that they're moving and he thinks nobody's going to move him this is going to sit there and last time was ridiculous and he probably won't do it again and doesn't have anything to sell. And ask him to do it what's not good so they're thinking it through a little but the pseudo empire is starting to latch onto it

-they're so other things happening one of them is good people are being obvious about with a few pennies at the time but it's not extremely obvious there there's a lot of pushiness going on and big groups are fighting over big things it's all about big money too and that's changing probably and changing hands from neck morlock to several other groups didn't pseudo empire including pseudo empire it's a huge effort. And we have some results Treasury and social security the payroll submissions review and the scheduled by several of them are scheduled and it's going to be a fight and it will go on for quite a while and the pseudo empire is going to see who's in the way and they're going to be so much surprised

It's mostly not their own and it's mostly not Max it's not foreigners and not us

more surely sadly we can't say it's not VGA but it's not tons of them it's not many of them

Thor Freya

Olympus

Ziggy Stardust

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asbestosremovalist · 2 years ago

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One should enquire with asbestos removal services about site visit and lump-sum estimation.

Source

#house demolition Boronia garden shed removal service

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muzanswaifu · 2 years ago

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I'm Yours (Sneak Peek)

Alpha!Rengoku x Omega!Fem!Reader

SNEAK PEEK

Have a snack my lil babies

Lord knows this fic wont be out for a while though 😭

Warnings: Human Trafficking, hints of sexual slavery, ruts, heats

Footsteps echoed in the long corridor, the air thick with scents of need and desperation coming from the frail creatures beyond the doors ahead, causing all but one to grow eager with excitement. Growls and snarls came from behind him, making him all the more hopeful for this to be done with quickly. A firm hand on his shoulder shook him loosely, as if to remind him of what was ahead.

Tengen had been begging him for what seemed like ages to adopt a mate, if not find one. He'd been opposed to it at first, disgusted with the idea of essentially purchasing a human life. HIs mother was an omega after all, he'd seen how she struggled against arrogant alphas during her living years, including his own father. But that wasn't to say he was opposed to mating with one, he just hadn't found the right person yet. There were many wonderful, noble omegas he'd come across through the years, all of them well-mannered and behaved. But the courting system for omegas of high status was a lengthy one. Proposals, dowries, accustoming. Hell, it would be several moons before they would even be permitted to actually mate together. And the only reason Tengen was so avid he finally mate up was to get his rut attended to.

Kyojuro would be honest, his rut wasn't exactly... tame, per say. It seemed each passing triad of months his natural cycle became more unkept, his aggression and instinct going feral as the days closed in. He would feel the hormones in his body change, testosterone pumping through his blood at a dangerous rate while his urges ran rampant. In summary, he would become a complete asshole. He supposed the last straw was his last visit to his dear friend's estate when he'd snapped at his wives to quit badgering him with their stench, that of properly mated omegas that had his alphan brain desperate to find properly available options. Uzui was thoroughly surprised by his sudden tantrum, promptly removing him from his home and commanding that he not come back until he have himself a mate. And some manners.

Another horrid rut and a few pitiful brothel visits later, he was at his friend's doorstep yet again, pleading for assistance, and subsequently ending up here - an omegean market. These markets now-a-days were quite rare and heavily looked down upon, given that most of the product came unwillingly and were sold to less than respectable customers. But surprisingly, some stores still remained intact, preaching honest sales and consenting parties. He doubted both. Yet here he was, wallet in hand, ready to offer a hefty sum for any omega he could half-way tolerate, his mind fogging with the remembrance of the powerful words his friend had muttered closely to get his approval.

"Maybe she'll give you a few pups along the way, right?"

Kyojuro gulped thickly, wiping the sweat from his brow. The thought alone was enough to get his gut swimming with yearn. He'd always, always, known he'd wanted children, a family to come home to and spend the rest of his days with. It seemed like a distant future back then, but now that fantasy seemed to draw closer, so much so that he could taste it. Tengen must've sensed his renewed ambition as he gave a wide smile, leering at the guarding salesman to just open the damn door already. The beta gave him a hesitant nod, looking off to his fellow colleague whose hand gripped the nob.

"Listen up! Once we get you all inside you can finally get a good look at the selection. These are the rules: No touching, no scenting, and definitely no biting. Any breach of these rules will result in an automatic purchase."

A few alphas mumbled their compliance, Rengoku standing firm in front of the entrance, ready to begin. The two betas gave one final glance to each other before throwing open the doors, revealing the overload of sensory details that were kept within.

#demon slayer #demon slayer smut #kny smut #kny #kimetsu no yaiba #kimetsu no yaiba smut #rengoku #rengoku kny #kimetsu no yaiba rengoku #rengoku kyojurou #rengoku kyojuro #kyojurou #kyojuro #kyojurou rengoku #kyojuro x y/n #rengoku kyoujuro smut #kyoujurou rengoku smut #kyoujurou x reader #rengoku kyoujurou x reader

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timextoxhajima · 4 years ago

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Accelerate [Dana’s 600 Special]

Track: Feel It by Michele Morrone / Drunk-Dazed by ENHYPHEN / Insanity by THE BOYZ

Member: I swear he’s not even my bias

Genre: i-ion know-

Word Count: it’s pretty damn long so please don’t make me write a part two

Taglist: @hyunjaethereal @lsangyeons

The first time you laid eyes on Lee Hyunjae, you were both in Italy as he was being blinded by a billion flashes in his face. The light reflects off his dark hair - which was once a brighter color - as he maintains that polite, miniscule smile on his face. Most of the photographers and interviewers were male, for the sole reason that female photographers and interviewers would be too stunned to continue at their job.

Not that the males rushing to get a shot of his face or a string of words out from him now weren’t stunned themselves.

Despite being hailed for looking like every woman’s wet dream, Lee Hyunjae was more known for being South Korea’s youngest first class F1 racer. Sure, if he ever bothered to utter a single syllable of speech to you, you could pass out on the spot.

But right now, all you wanted was to get an exclusive modelling contract from Louis Vuitton to his manager. Not Lee Hyunjae, not his bodyguards, his manager.

“Lee Hyunjae! Do you have anything you want to say before your final race of the season? How do you feel about being so close to coming out top?”

His manager stands a step behind him to Hyunjae’s right, and gives the racer the green light to respond. The flashes and sounds of clicking from the cameras were so overwhelming, it’s impossible for you to even imagine how it felt like being in the spotlight.

But the celebrity couldn’t receive the question any less gracefully, and offers one of those swoon-worthy smiles before leaning into the microphone.

“I feel nervous but I’ve prepared for this. Consistency is key and I believe in myself, so if that answers your question...”

“Do you have any other plan other than racing? Word has it that you’ve received offers to be the face of Gucci and Louis Vuitton!”

The contract in your briefcase is still ironed out safely in its file when you pull it behind your legs, away from plain sight.

Hyunjae turns to look at his manager when the question posed obviously isn’t one of those in the list prepared, so the manager steps forward, and coincidentally spots you at the back of the crowd. He recognises you from the meeting he had with your higher-up.

“My apologies but Mr Lee isn’t permitted to answer to any of these, so if this is all then we must be going. Thank you for coming to the conference tonight.”

Lee Hyunjae and his manager step back away from the microphone and bow for the press to continue their aggressive, merciless snapshotting. You wait patiently for the duo to disappear behind the conference area, and for the press to switch their attention to the pictures they have on their camera before you make your round backstage.

The 5-star hotel is grand in all the ways possible: chandelier, white wines and champagnes being served in waiting areas and water was served sparkling. Finally fishing out the tag that you were given at the registration for entry to the event, you hand it to the lady at the meetings’ conference registration counter.

You wonder how the Louis Vuitton logos on your clothes and briefcase had gone unnoticed earlier at the showcase. Even on the tag, the ‘LV’ logo was so apparent. How far does the company need to go in order for them to have the logo printed in some shiny, golden print on the tag-

“Welcome to the F1 internal press conference and meeting, Miss l/n!” She pulls a sticker off a page and presses it onto the tag below the LV logo. “If you need anything at all, please just approach one of our staffs. All waiters and staff concerned will have a red tie tonight.”

“Alright, thank you,” The tag gets slid across the table to you. “Where’s the nearest washroom?”

“Oh, she’ll show you the way,” The lady gestures behind her for one of the staff members with a red tie to accompany you.

“Oh-” Slightly taken aback by the aggressive escorting, the younger female grins at you before holding out her arm in the direction of the washroom. “Thanks.”

The hotel’s grandeur only gets more and more apparent as your heels click through the hallways and corridors. For an event night, the hotel’s pretty desolate. Then again, the press conference happened outside where all the photographers and journalists were. The one you were here for was an internal press meeting, and last you checked, there were fewer than 10 names on that list.

“I can find my way back to the main hall after,” The slight panic in your voice humors you when the staff member seemed ready to wait outside the washroom. “Thanks.”

She bows and takes her leave only after you enter the bathroom; you can tell from the sound of her shoes echoing down the corridor. The scent of lavender is so overwhelming, you could almost taste it. Walls of cream and silver strokes cut through the tiles, a vase made of bronze sits in the corner of the platform where the sinks were, filled with roses.

The crisp reflection of yourself stares down at you in the mirror; it’s one of the few times you were dressed in branded goods head to toe. None of the articles of clothing you were wearing right now, you owned. Usually, you’d be gaping in awe at how beautiful these places where - after all, you were in a five-star hotel in Italy.

But no, after almost five years of working with Louis Vuitton as a brand ambassador and subsequently becoming an assistant model-scout has numbed your habit of wandering eyes.

The LV briefcase gets set on a dry area of marble, your fingers automatically clutching the edges of the sink as the jewelry on your ears, neck and hands twinkle under the fluorescent lighting. The makeup looks close to perfect - because someone had done it for you. Your clothes and shoes fit right down to your skin - because they were tailored for you.

You were more upset you couldn’t sell it off and donate the money over having actual ownership of these fabrics.

News of the orphanage had reached you hours after you touched down in Italy, and your heart yearns to stop the ache that seeps through you. They had run out of funds to continue the orphanage, the kids already enrolled would be split and sent to other organizations instead.

What you had once called your home was going to be non-existent in another years’ time. Those whom you called your teachers, mentors, parents... were going to be in places you were not familiar with. The children that you always bring back food, clothes and toys for were going to be separated into different cities and states. As if not having a family was not bad enough, the people you now called your family was going to be split apart.

You hadn’t noticed your eyes were closed until you opened them, the weight of the makeup on your face urging you to rub your eyes and skin but the discipline written into your hands stop you from doing so.

Standing back to fix your posture, your eyes land on the one garnish on your body that doesn’t belong to Louis Vuitton - the ring on your middle finger. A gold band that looked more like a wedding ring than anything else.

It had the name of the orphanage engraved on the inner side, so it feels lighter on your hands than it would otherwise be.

A deep breath expands your chest as you take your briefcase and step away from the sink, attention scrutinising yourself more than you actually would.

The corridors of the hotel collect you back into its wealth again, drawing the thickest line between the realities of people like you and those who enjoy the luxurious life.

The racer’s manager was sitting at the end of the meeting table when you enter, and you immediately recognise half the list of names you had seen before. Gucci’s manager was here personally. Another racer and his manager were here too. Stefano Domenicali and Michael Masi were here.

Why were they here? Their names weren’t on the list.

“Ah, Miss l/n!” Masi gets off his seat and holds out his hand. “Such a pleasure to meet you!”

“Honor on my part,” Reaching out a palm, you smile the most graceful smile you can find in the muscles of your face.

“Can I get you a drink? We’re still waiting for Mr Lee before we begin our discussion on the collaboration.”

Collaboration?

“Pardon my ignorance but... I thought I was here for a sponsorship or a model-contract request for Mr Lee... I wasn’t expecting your attendance or... a collaboration.”

Domenicalli chuckles heartily at his seat as he whirls around to gesture to one of the staff members in the room. “Will you get her a Mojito?”

Then he stands up and pushes his glasses up his nose bridge. “We’ve been looking for a company that’s willing to do a three-way partnership with us and Mr Lee’s agency. Right now, it’s boiled down to both Louis Vuitton and Gucci so... it depends on which contract Mr Lee’s agency is more interested in.”

“Oh... Um, if that’s the case then I’m not entirely sure if the contract I have with me right now is appropriate-”

“Oh, it’s not. LV has already told us you’d sell them better unscripted than if planned,” Masi leans forward and mutters away from your ear. “Don’t tell Gucci though. Their manager’s only here because they panicked.”

He pulls away and before he can say anything else, the door clicks open with a staff member pushing the door open for the star of the night.

“My apologies,” He’s changed out of his formal suit and is in a more comfortable set of hoodie and baggy pants now. “Did I keep everybody waiting?”

“No, not at all!” Masi throws his hands up into the air and beckons you to meet Lee Hyunjae. “Might I introduce... Miss l/n from LV. She’ll be the one pitching the collaboration for LV today.”

Hyunjae’s eyes are wide and clear, despite his fringe covering his eyelids. “My pleasure,” He holds out his hand and you take it to shake, but he doesn’t stop there.

Lifting the back of your hand to his lips, the contact is soft and gentle on your skin.

Your hairs stand against your will and goosebumps erupt all over your neck when he pulls away, eyes now locked with yours. Nobody else in the room bothers to provide a reaction - it’s like he’s done this before and it’s perfectly normal.

The rest of the evening is spent listening to your own pitch, and Gucci’s, but you couldn’t really keep your head in the game when... all that was in Lee Hyunjae’s head was... you.

You’d be lying had you said you were comfortable with how much he was glancing at you across the table, obviously not listening to Gucci’s pitch at all. His manager was the one busy jotting down all kinds of things, almost like it was an act of dictation. But the racer’s eyes fail to leave you for any longer than five seconds, and it was becoming glaringly obvious that he wasn’t really paying attention to the pitch.

Gucci’s pitch finally finishes, giving you some kind of escape because now his manager is pummeling him for not listening to the benefits provided as Gucci’s ambassador. The contract document from LV was sitting before you, very single term and condition now inapplicable because you had just pitched something that wasn’t in the instruction manual.

God help me not to get fired.

“Mr Lee has some to a decision,” Masi claps his hands together, earning the attention of everybody in the room. “The Formula One federation would like to officially welcome Lee Hyunjae as the brand ambassador in a stellar collaboration... with Gucci.”

The Gucci ambassador scout smiles with triumph as the room provides a round of applause, you included.

“Thank you so much, Miss l/n, for coming down. Your pitch was nothing short of commendable and I will make sure your manager will hear of that, alright?” Masi and Domenicali take turns shaking your hand. In your peripheral vision, you watch the Gucci ambassador shake hands with both Lee Hyunjae and his manager.

Masi and Domenicali finish up with you, and Lee Hyunjae’s manager approaches you for the handshake with his client behind him. “That was a stellar... impromptu pitch, Miss l/n.”

A gentle chuckle rolls off your tongue as you pull your hand away, tightly clutching the briefcase. “I work better when things aren’t planned, so...”

“We’ll... we’ll keep in touch, LV. You’re an excellent scout with marvelous presentation skills. It makes me sad Mr Lee didn’t choose you.”

Your eyes drift to Hyunjae’s and he’s already looking at you like he hadn’t eaten in three days and you were a bowl of soup.

“Of course we’ll keep in touch. He’ll still be valuable asset and ambassador after his contract with Gucci ends,” Ignoring him, you return your attention to his manager.

“Now, let’s hope the Prince of Korea doesn’t screw anything up, yeah?” His manager grins as he pats Hyunjae on the back. “Anyway, it’s been a mighty pleasure. We’ll be in touch.”

You lower your head as a small nod, turning on your heels to exit the room. Even then you can feel his eyes on your back.

By the time you’re back in your hotel room (which was in the same hotel as you had the internal meeting), your feet are half dead from the heels you were wearing and the makeup on your face was starting to wear off. It took a nice, warm bath and a rather long conversation with your own manager on the phone as he congratulated on pulling through an impromptu pitch.

He finally finishes, and you drop your phone into the towel by the bathtub as the steam fogs up the mirror. But your peace is cut short when someone rings the doorbell of your room.

“Room service for Miss l/n!”

Tightening the robe around your waist, you pull open the door and watch the hotel staff hold out a bottle of wine and an envelop. “Mr Lee Hyunjae sends his regards, Miss.”

Surprised, you receive the bottle. The hotel staff bows and leaves, letting you turn around and the door click shut.

To: Miss l/n

I apologise for the inappropriate staring earlier this evening. This is an attempt to compensate for my behaviour. I’ll be leaving Italy the day after tomorrow so if you could do me the pleasure of having dinner with me tomorrow... I’d like to be acquainted.

I’ve made a reservation at La Terrazza for 7pm. I’ll meet you in the guest lobby downstairs at 6.30 to pick you up.

Love,

Lee Hyunjae

You can see how the material of the paper trembles a little between your fingers. The thought runs, So he’s a creep and a national treasure. He can’t hurt you, right?

Again, the evening gown is more than fitting on you. It’s been tailored to hug all your curves at your chest and your hips and thighs and it exposes your leg where the slit is. It’s like LV knew you had an important evening appointment coming up and had you pack all these different sets appropriate for the event.

The usher standing by the guest lobby nods when you head for the door, and he pushes it open to reveal only one person in it: Lee Hyunjae.

On the phone, he whirls around when he hears the doors swish against the carpet flooring. His eyes are glimmering under the soft, rosy lighting and the glossy collar of his suit looks like plastic from the reflection.

“I gotta go, I’ll call you back.”

The phone clicks to black before he opens his blazer and slides it into his inner breast pocket.

“I’m gonna guess that’s your manager,” Your fingers wrap around the clutch tightly as he takes a few steps toward you, obviously very stunned by how different you looked compared from the previous day.

“Uh, no, actually,” That million-dollar smile gleams at you. He reaches up to his forehead and scratches his brow. His hair is styled upwards so seeing the glory of his forehead was pretty enticing. “My mom. Making sure I’m doing well and fine here.”

He stops a safe distance away from you, finished with taking in whatever of you his eyes and memory can allow him. “Not gonna lie, I thought you were gonna stand me up.”

“I think LV would fire me if they knew I stood the Lee Hyunjae up.”

Hyunjae licks his lips then purses them together, attention finally peeling off your face as he reaches for your hand. He presses his lips into the back of your palm, then casually hooks your arm around his while he walks to your side. “Ready to go?”

At a loss of words for his flirtatious mannerism, all you can afford is a nod.

But as if your vocabulary bank wasn’t already exhausted, you can’t help but stare in complete astonishment when you are led to the matte black Sian Roadster already waiting at the drop-off point right outside the lobby.

“Have them send the Dior package to Miss l/n’s room by 9pm,” He instructs the bell boy by the hotel entrance as he reaches for the vehicle door.

“Wait, what?”

“Yes, Mr Lee.”

“Thanks.”

“Wait a minute,” Your vision is finally peeled off the car when Lee Hyunjae pulls the door open. “What Dior package?”

“Just a token of appreciation from me, that’s all,” He releases your arm as he guides you into the vehicle. “I knew if I gave it to you over dinner, you’d reject, so...”

Twitching his eyebrow, he smirks and retreats, closing the car door.

Flirt.

The vehicle moves off with a sharp rev of the engine, and you almost feel guilty for being able to be comfortable in in your clothes, shoes, sports car and on the way to a fancy-ass restaurant.

If only things could be like that for everybody and everything.

“So, when are you leaving Italy?”

“Oh, um... tomorrow too actually,” Rome’s lights are wondrous on the outside, some of them blinding you. “I have... something to attend.”

“Hmm, that’s... vague.”

You turn to eye him at his silent call for clarification. “I’m attending a closing event; help out with administrations.”

“Like... a pet store or something?”

“Yeah, ‘or something’.”

“That confidential, huh?” He lets out a soft chuckle.

The gut in your abdomen tells you not to look at him. He’ll see right through you, figure out that there’s something more to it than something ‘confidential’.

“Yeah,” You mask it with a sigh. “Funds and things.”

You can feel his attention sink into your back as silence befell the atmosphere.

There’s a kind of light in his eyes when he talks about racing. When he’s describing the feeling of adrenaline in his fingers, gripped around the steering wheel. He’s unexpectedly kind to the service at the restaurant, then again he was a celebrity and he had a reputation to uphold.

It’s the kind of light that made you panic throughout dinner, because there’s no way this specimen of a man would ever pay you a second thought. Maybe you were going to be his Italy fling that he would boast about to his friends and colleagues and they’d laugh at you without you even knowing.

What was a rich, handsome racer even doing, single? It was too good to be true, and even if it was, you? Of all people?

Dream on.

“It’s been... an amazing night. Thank you so much for dinner.”

Lee Hyunjae walks you into the lift, letting you press the button to your floor first.

“I’ll walk you back. I have time.”

Standing with your feet together, in the safety of your gown, your hands are holding your clutch like your life depended on it. You could tell that he wasn’t the most comfortable now, not with his hands over one another and placed politely on his abdomen.

When the lift door dings open, the silence remains. He trails behind you as you walk your way to your room, hands fumbling through your clutch to search for your keycard. The slick of the door is fast and you push the door open, with a black and silver box with the label ‘DIOR’ printed on it sitting at the foot of your bed.

“Oh, my God!” You rush in and grab the box, eyes widening as you turn to him, who has one arm extended to keep the door open. The box was almost as big as a pillow.

There’s a soft, warm smile on his face. A stark contrast to all his flirty ministrations throughout the evening. “Goodnight, Miss l/n. Sleep well and have a safe flight.”

“Wha-” Then he lowers his head, and turns around. “Wait!”

Without another moment of hesitation, he disappears down the corridor and the door swings shut.

It feels ironically empty. Your hands are carrying this Godforsaken box of a gift and yet you cannot think of a way to properly thank the person who gave it to you. With slight reluctance, your fingers find the edge of the cover.

It’s a beautiful Dior blazer, packaged with a perfume and a cosmetics set. The cream letter in it is handwritten and signed the racer himself.

I wish we had more time. Love, Lee Hyunjae

The nauseating sensation of your heart sinking in your chest beats all the logic in your brain when you find yourself reaching for the door handle. The box is mindlessly thrown back onto the bed as you rush out, kicking off your heels in the moment of folly. (Of course, remembering to use the door latch to keep the door open.)

“Hyunjae!” You call down the corridor, and he was just about to enter the lift. He turns, providing you with a gorgeous view of his jaw.

It feels like a fairytale, when you run down the carpeted corridor, barefooted and still in your gown. The urge to throw your arms around him far supercedes your brain yelling at you not to, but you do it anyway.

He catches you by the waist as your rest your forehead in his blazer, arms already struggling to meet the height of his shoulders.

A whisper. “I wish we had more time too.”

He pushes you back by your upper arms, tucking one bit of your hair behind your ear. “If time is what you want, then I’ll make time.”

“But... I- Will you get in trouble?”

He looks you dead in the eye and subtly shakes his head.

Time stops.

Fear. That’s what you’re feeling.

Then he tilts his head and slowly leans in.

“I don’t think I’d care if I do.”

His breath hits your upper lip and your instincts flutter your lids shut.

White wine and strawberries from dinner. That’s what he tastes like.

Warmth radiates off his palms and into your cheeks as he holds your face close to his, unable to resist the satisfaction and sweetness you were providing him. In this moment of intimacy, he loses all sense of realism and urgency - all he wants is you to himself, for the rest of the night until the sun rises.

Then he’d have to worry about never seeing you again because his manager had chosen Gucci over LV.

But right now, he has your heart and soul in his hands, as does his in yours.

Being the romantic and (probably) egoistic man of a celebrity he is, he lowers himself and slides his arms where the back of your knees would be, somehow never breaking the kiss. The material of the gown dribbles over the cotton of his suit and your arm circles behind his neck, only minimizing the distance between the two of you.

It feels like you’re getting married in this black and gold sparkly evening gown when he pushes the door open with his back. The scent of the room is inviting, but definitely none in comparison to the scent of his cologne beginning to stain your hands and your clothes.

Gently resting you into the cool sheets of the bed, he pulls away to remove the Dior package off the bed, placing it on the mini coffee table by the bed.

You were never one to deal with one night stands. Hell, the only person you’d ever slept with was some stupid kid back in the orphanage when your stupid teenage hormones were running-

He pulls off his blazer and leans in again, picking your awkward hands and resting them on the knot of his tie. His fingers are grazing the skin on your upper arm, trailing down to your cheek and then your hairline where he combs his hands through your hair.

The knot on the tie comes undone with some slight tugs, and you slide it out from under his collar. Undoing only the first one, you rest your palms against his chest, creating a small rift where the air rushes to your lips where his should be.

He’s slightly stunned at the slightest breakage, but he is overwhelmed with more care and concern than he was upset. “Why? What’s wrong?” He traces your jaw and rests his fingers on your chin, noses almost touching.

“Are you sure... You want to do this? I can’t risk you losing your career,” Your index finger traces the likes of his cheekbone. “You barely just started.”

Hyunjae shakes his head subtly, taking your hands to his lips and pressing them into the back of your palm. “When I saw you in that room, I was... star struck. You’d think being the celebrity in the room would mean everything, but I felt like I was nothing if I didn’t know you, much less be able to get close to you.”

And for someone who hasn’t really had a biological family to love, his words stuck.

“I just... knew. There are some things in the world you can work for, but I don’t think any amount of effort can give me you.”

His brown orbs find your gaze and it melts you thoroughly. Like ice cream on a hot day; like the way the ocean washes against the sand by the beach, taking grains of sand away with it - the same way Hyunjae was winning you bit by bit, if not already all of you.

Your hands find his collar again, and it tightens around the stiff material to pull him back down. He smiles into the kiss, hands pressing into the mattress by your hair while you undo the rest of his buttons. His skin is hot under the shirt, blood running on the adrenaline and tension he was riding on from the intimacy. Muscles pumped and heart racing, you finally get his shirt off and he does you the honor of dropping it to the ground.

He gives you time to gasp for air while he dips his nose into your neck, inhaling your perfume and the scent of the hotel shampoo in your hair. His back muscles tense up under your cold fingertips as you run them along his spine. It’s almost beast-like, when he flexes his arms and every single move shifts his shoulder blades under his skin. His lips leave gentle pecks in your neck and your exposed collar bone, letting goosebumps erupt all over your skin.

His hand caresses your waist as a way of request, and you arch your back just enough for him to find the zipper on the back of your gown. The vibrations of the zip being pulled downwards already feels like little bolts of electricity up your spine, and the straps around your shoulders loosen with every inch unzipped.

He’s done, when his fingers return to your shoulders to push the straps off. The cool air kisses your skin in spots where he isn’t touching with any part of his body. The silk of the gown gently slides off with every inch of a movement you make, more and more of your torso exposed to him.

Sliding one of his arms under your lower back, he pulls you out of the dress instead of stripping you of it as he helps you further up the bed. Your hands press into the mattress in a bid to help him shift yourself without breaking the sloppy, messy kiss. Your back finally meets the pillows and he pushes the gown off the bed with his leg.

Chin tilting to the ceiling, he finally creates some distance between the two of you, eyes drifting down to your collar bone and chest still covered. His palms are hot around your waist as he trails butterfly pecks on your cleavage, while your fingers find his hair to tousle and grip.

Goosebumps start to surface when his breath is heavy on your stomach, then he reaches your underwear and it’s almost embarrassing to have him kiss you.

Your clouded vision is manually stuck to the ceiling when you can feel your face burning with adrenaline. The tickle of the material when it gets pulled off your hips and down your legs bring your cheeks more color, and before you know it, Hyunjae has your breath hitched in your throat.

He rests your thighs on his shoulders as he works his way around, the bare minimum sanity left inside you decides to grip onto the sheets instead of ripping out his hair.

Chills shoot up your spine mercilessly, emanating in the form of lewd mewls directed into the air. The crown of your head meets the cushioned head board of the bed when his grip on your thighs tighten to keep you from squirming too much.

Without warning, he drags a finger down your sensitiveness and slides it in easily, the sensation erupting a more-than-shameful groan from you. Pulling away, he adds another finger before shifting his attention back to your upper body, now eyeing the last piece of material covering your chest. But he captures your lips first to earn your attention, and your arms naturally find your way around his neck to keep him close.

His free hand goes around your back to unhook your lingerie, and it’s nothing but a new addition to all the clothes on the carpet now. He removes his fingers, and breaks the kiss first, for the sole reason of giving you a perfect view of him licking his glistening skin.

You can feel your brows furrow with frustration now, the warmth from him dissipating when he leans back on his heels in a kneeling position. By providing you a gorgeous view of his being while he undoes his belt, he’s only adding more fire to the fuel.

It’s significant enough to stretch out the material of his boxers, and so he climbs over you as he removes his last bit of clothing. He harshly yanks you downwards into a lying position by your ankle, and the sharp friction against your back is an addition to the heat between the two of you.

His breath is heavy on your lips as he rests his palms by your ears, weight pushing in the mattress. “Tell me if it hurts, love.”

Then he presses his lips into yours, like his life depended on it, and in one swift motion, he buries himself inside you like it was the most natural thing to do.

You suck all the breath out of him as you gasp into the kiss, and he finds your arms to hook around his neck and shoulders.

If you could feel the taste of honey throughout your body, this must be how it feels.

He gives you some moments before he starts grinding his hips slowly, his palms finding your thighs and digging into your flesh as he hooks them around his hips.

Breathless, you pull away first, whimpers in the back of your throat louder than what you would’ve expected. His nose dips into your neck again, arms now stretched out to use the headboard as support when he picks up the pace.

Cursing under your breath, you feel guilty for the bliss that was spreading through you. Your nerves are all heightened by the adrenaline and your vision is blurred from the sole nature of the intimate act.

He’s not fast, but every spot he’s hitting feels like cloud nine over and over again.

Like a spark in the dark, the sacred spot reveals itself in the form of harsher breaths and groans. Your fingernails dig into his back and your thighs are losing stamina to remain wrapped around him.

“That’s it,” He breaths into your ear, pressing a kiss into your lower jaw. “Come for me.”

Tremors burst through your body like lightning in a storm upon his request. He helps you ride it out with a few more thrusts before he pulls out himself, releasing on your stomach, chest heaving.

Resting his forehead on yours, he smiles. “Let’s hope that one day I wouldn’t have to worry about pulling out.”

You scoff, slightly tired. “We’ll see.”

You are woken up by the unfamiliar warmth you normally don’t have under the blanket. White sheets and tousled hair come into your field of vision before you can process the face, partially hidden, but eyes wide open.

“Jesus,” Your morning breath billows out between your lips and you swallow to dampen your dry throat. The room looks too damn bright for it to be morning. “What time is it?”

“7am. Don’t worry, we have plenty of time. My manager hasn’t called me so... we have time to spare.”

You shuffle around under the sheets and your arms slide under the pillow where its cool. He shifts and pulls out his arm to rest on his tricep, palm under his ear and hair as he perches up his head.

“What?” You pull the blanket up to your face and inhale the scent of it. It smells like him now.

“You look pretty when you’re asleep.”

“What?” You frown, but a smile is on your lips. “How long did you watch me sleep for?”

“Not long, don’t worry. I’m not a perv.”

“Well, considering we just slept together after 24 hours of knowing one another-”

“Hey, we’re both about to be deported back to Korea to work. Give us a break, would you?” He groans and shifts again, this time trying to pull you into his chest.

“Ah,” Snorting, you let him cradle you in his arms, his bare skin pressed warmly into yours. “‘Deport’? That’s what you call your job?”

“Only because you’re involved now,” He pecks you on the lips. “So... can I ask about your ‘administrative matters’ you said you needed to attend?”

Right. The orphanage is closing down.

The guilt washes through you again.

“Oh,” A look of seriousness overtakes your facials, and he notes the change in expression. “Um... I- Well... It’s an orphanage. It’s closing.”

He blinks at you, gaze filled with wander. “Were you a volunteer or...?”

Silence.

You can’t bring yourself to say it.

Unable to bear the incoming judgment he might provide you, your eyes dart away.

“Hey, hey,” He finds your chin and tilts it back up to his attention. “What’s wrong? I don’t see anything wrong with being who you are. Why are you ashamed?”

“I... I’ve lived all my life with that label. ‘Orphan’. It only got better when I came out to work.”

“Is that why you are so worried? That... we might affect something and possibly implicate that?”

“Maybe.”

He sighs, thumb stroking your cheek as he shakes his head. “Nah. It shouldn’t matter.” Pulling your head into his chest, you can hear the steady thumping of his heart through his skin. “’Administrative matters’, huh? Are you like a... committee member or donator?”

“I’m an unofficial sponsor ambassador from LV. Well, LV was supposed to arrange for official funding, but they just never really had the time or resources to build the rapport. The orphanage was doing too badly for any company or brand to want to help and invest their attention on.”

“Mm,” He hums, stroking your hair. “I’m sorry about that. I truly am.”

“It’s okay. Nothing could’ve been done about it anyway. All I hope now is for the kids to be safe, no matter where they go.”

It feels empty again, having Hyunjae being ripped from your side at the airport once the plane touched down. The manager was surprisingly not surprised to know that you had spent the night together, the only question he had asked being something that concerned a future pregnancy, which the two of you have already confirmed negative.

It’s late when you reach back your apartment, and you ready yourself for the private meeting with the committee members of the orphanage. Though tired and severely jet-lagged, you cannot miss this meeting. It’s the last time you’ll see all the caretakers and members of the organisation in the same room.

You shift into the taxi in a new set of clothes, but topped with the Dior blazer and smelling like the Dior perfume, you feel like you were probably going to get slapped once you reach the meeting.

The building of the orphanage looks so run-down, it could be mistaken for a prison had it not been for the words HILDA’S ORPHANAGE in big, block letters above the entrance. Before you can exit the taxi, your phone starts vibrating in your purse.

It’s the President of the orphanage.

“I’m right outside the building, going in soon,” You push open the car door and thank the driver.

“The meeting has been cancelled. Someone bought the orphanage and we’ll be managed under a new system.”

“What?”

“Surprise.”

You turn around and see the last person you’d expect to see here, in his hands, a folder of documents and a small bouquet of flowers.

“Um,” Your eyes are stuck to Hyunjae, but you’re still on the phone. “The buyer... Does it have anything to do with Gucci or F1?”

“Yes, it’s an F1 sponsorship but there will be more details into the managerial and planning system. Some things will have to change.”

“I’ll... I’ll call you back.”

Hyunjae watches you lock your phone in shock, attention unrivalled. He takes a few steps towards you and you now realise he’s still in the same clothes he was in on the plane. His eyebags are obvious but the prideful grin on his face makes him glow.

Stopping about an arms’ length away from you, he holds out the folder.

“I checked with my manager and he checked with F1. They green-lit it, but on a few conditions. I heard them out before I told them it would be more likely than not you’d accept it, so here are the legal documents. All the terms and conditions and sponsor contract are already in here, so you and the President can sign it when you deem fit.”

Taking the folder, you didn’t even notice your hands are trembling as you flip through it.

But your eyes flitter up from the page when you notice the printing:

OWNER’S SIGNATURE (Y/N L/N): ____________________

“It’s yours if you sign it.”

Now, he holds out the bouquet. “I thought of putting it under my name but I don’t want you to think you owe me a favour and have it bugging you all the time.”

Gently shaking your head, as if you could shake out the surprise, you close the file and look to him in awe. “But I’ll still owe you, big time. This is... this is everything, so thank you.”

He sucks in a deep breath and shakes the bouquet of flowers a little.

“You can return the favour by going out with me. Properly, whenever I have time, and I promise, no Dior packages.”

Taking the bouquet into hand, you throw your arms around his shoulders, tears welling in your eyes.

#hyunjae #lee hyunjae #hyunjae smut #tbz smut #the boyz smut #the boyz hyunjae #lee hyunjae smut #tbz scenarios #the boyz scenarios #hyunjae scenario #hyunjae fanfic

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queenshelby · 3 years ago

Text

Roommates – Part Four

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Words: 2,385

Warning: Smut

Note: This plays in 2020. Please interact. Your interactions and comments mean a lot to me.

Just as you were in the middle of your morning routine following a night filled with erotic dreams about your roommate, you heard a loud knock on the door.

You quickly turned off your vibrator and chucked it into your bedside draw before pulling up your panties and singlet and walking into the hallway.

When you opened the door, you were surprised to see James. His face was flushed and he looked like he had been crying.

‘You don’t fucking answer my messages and calls anymore’ he said and it quickly became clear to you that he must have been drinking all night when you smelled his breath from the distance.

‘You shouldn’t be here James, please leave’ you said firmly, knowing that his visit wasn’t permitted under the current lockdown restrictions.

‘Just hear me out Y/N, please’ he begged once again after he had been trying to get back together with you for the past four months and, whilst you initially maintained contact with him, you no longer responded to his messages and ignored his calls for the past two weeks.

‘There is nothing more to discuss James. I am through with you’ you said before you tried to shut the door on him but, just as you did, his foot caught in the doorway and he pushed his way into the hallway.

‘James, honestly, get the fuck out. You cheated, more than once, and I am done with you’ you huffed out and thought that, clearly, he would have received the 2,000 Euro engagement ring he had bought you in the mail by now.

‘You can’t just throw away what we had Y/N’ he went on to say and, just as he did, Cillian returned from his morning run.

‘Get out of my house James or I will call the Gardaí’ Cillian said calmly as he noticed that you were distressed.

‘Alright Murphy, go ahead, call the fucking cops’ James huffed out angrily and, before you knew it, James pushed you with your back against the wall in frustration.

‘Y/N, please fucking listen to me. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen’ he pleaded again with a whiny voice but his grip on you was becoming rather aggressive.

‘James, stop, you are hurting me’ you shouted out and, just as you tried to push him off, Cillian grabbed James by the back of his t-shirt and pulled him out of the house.

‘That’s enough James, fuck off and leave her alone’ Cillian said harshly and, when these words left his lips, James turned around suddenly and hit Cillian across the face with his right fist.

‘Jesus James’ you panicked as you quickly walked over towards Cillian and him but, when James realised what he did, he was quick to run off.

‘Fuck, Cilly, are you alright?’ you asked as you watched him hold on to his face.

‘I am fine’ Cillian chuckled before acknowledging that his face would likely be swollen before Lindsay would arrive in the evening.

‘I am sure she won’t mind Cilly’ you said before giving him a hug and thanking him for defending you and making James leave.

‘Y/N, I stink, you probably shouldn’t…’ Cillian said but you didn’t care and hugged him anyway, pressing your half naked body against his.

Ironically and almost surprisingly, you actually didn’t mind the scent of his sweat covered body. You could still smell the deodorant and aftershave on his skin and the hint of mint from the toothpaste he used that morning on his lips.

‘Let’s get some ice on this, hmm’ you then said before forcing him to sit down at the kitchen table while you prepared an ice pack for him.

After you wrapped the sachet of ice into a thin cloth, you gently pressed it against Cillian’s cheek which, already, had turned red.

The skin on his face felt soft and slightly moist and his deep blue eyes gazed into yours for a brief moment while his lips smiled at you.

His smile was warm and beautiful and you couldn’t help but pay attention to the large freckle on his upper lip.

‘So, uhm, I…uhm…I think I might go and get dressed’ you eventually huffed out after you had gotten lost in his eyes for a short moment.

Cillian nodded in response and, just as you walked away from him, an unfamiliar feeling washed over his body.

It was a feeling he couldn’t explain and it was almost unique in a way. In addition to his arousal which, by this point, had also formed in between his legs again, he felt shivers run over his spine and down into his stomach. These shivers felt almost like flutters and made him feel uncomfortably warm.

***

It was 5 o’clock and Cillian was out, walking his dog and getting some Aspirin from the nearby pharmacy following his incident with James and you decided to have a bath before the said storm was scheduled to come in later that evening.

Despite, you really needed to get your mind of the fact that Cillian was about to shag Lindsay which, in the past, hadn’t bothered you but, more recently it did. In addition, your friend Laura continued to nag you about updates on Cillian’s life, telling you that she was still very much in love with him and asking for your help to turn things around between them.

The sky had already darkened and you decided to gather all of the scented candles Cillian had in the house and carry them to the bathroom. You arranged them all around and poured yourself a glass of red wine before settling in the hot tub which was facing the backyard through a one-sided window, meaning that no one could see inside.

With Cillian being out, you didn’t bother closing the bathroom door and allowed the heat from the fireplace in the living room to radiate throughout the house.

Just as you sat in the half full tub and watched as the steaming water began to fill it completely, you reached for your phone and ipods to listen to something relaxing.

When, finally, the tub was filled completely, you lowered yourself into it allowing the bubbles to overtake your body. Your knees were slightly bent as you laid back and your breasts were floating on the surface just barely exposed to the air above the water. Your hair was floating and the bubbles were popping all around your head while you listened to an audiobook narrated by Cillian.

His voice was always something you enjoyed listening to, now more than ever and you closed your eyes to take in this moment of solace.

But, just as you did, Cillian’s face appeared beneath your eyelids and your heart instantly skipped a beat. You wanted to feel his strong hands on every inch of your wet body and, with those thoughts in mind, your hand began to caress your ass cheek while thinking about him. With each stroke you moved a little further up your thigh and back down the back of your ass. Your pussy lips were throbbing and wet from more than just the warm water, begging to be touched.

You were in a trance, listening to Cillian’s voice through your headphones as you slowly began to pleasure yourself and, with your mind being so far gone, you didn’t even realise that Cillian had returned home from his walk early as it was pouring with rain outside.

‘Y/N?’ he shouted through the house as you were nowhere to be found until, eventually, he realised that you may be in the bathroom.

With the bathroom door open, he looked inside only to find you with your eyes closed, facing the opposite direction towards the large one-sided window.

‘Y/N, shit, I am sorry’ he huffed out and, as you continued to run your hand up and down your naked body, he realised that you had your headphones in and didn’t hear him.

Cillian turned around quickly and you released a gentle moan that softly echoed in the bathroom. In your mind, you wanted him more with each touch of your hand but, of course, he didn’t know that.

When Cillian heard your moan, his manhood immediately went on alert and whilst he knew it was wrong, he couldn’t help himself but turn back around and watch you.

Unbeknownst to you, Cillian watched you as one of your hands was massaging your breast while the other slowly spread your legs exposing more of your pussy to the warmth of the water. It crashed against your lips like waves in the ocean and they were pulsating, begging for more.

‘Jesus, look away, fuck’ he said to himself quietly inside his mind as he stood there motionless and with a raging erection. He wanted to strip down naked right there and join you and it took all of his willpower not to do exactly that.

‘Hmm’ you moaned again as you listened to Cillian’s voice through your headphones and took your fingertips and tightly squeezed your clit. You could feel your juices being released and your legs spread wide as your hand pressed and caressed your mound.

‘Fuck’ Cillian’s mind said again, urging him to walk away and, just as he had built up enough strength and turned around, he heard you again.

‘Cillian’ you huffed out but with your eyes still tightly closed and feeling each sensation you were creating as you indulged on the sound of his voice.

Cillian immediately turned around in a panic, thinking that you had caught him watching you. Why else would you have said his name, he wondered.

To his surprise, when he turned around in a panic, you still had your eyes closed and continued to pleasure yourself. Your hand was working over your mound from top to back and teasing both of your holes now and, with Cillian watching, you continued to touch and tease yourself, caressing the inside of your thighs.

Perhaps he was imagining you calling out his name he thought. You couldn’t possibly have said his name while you were masturbating. Clearly, his mind was playing tricks on him and he was sure about it.

Then, the unimaginable happened. You stood up inside the tub in all of your naked glory. Bubbles were running down your body and the smell of vanilla was in the air as you climbed out of the bathtub.

Cillian was quick to disappear into the hallway and thought that, perhaps, he should have closed the bathroom door. But then, he heard his name leaving your lips again and, just as he went back to see whether you were, in fact calling for him, he watched you lean against the vanity with your headphone still inside your ears and your fingers running over your outer walls of your pussy before teasing your clit with a soft abrasive touch.

In a trance and consumed by pleasure, you dropped your towel to the floor and squeezed your clit between your fingertips as you stood there with your eyes shut. The candle lights still danced in the room, bouncing off the water drops still on your soft skin.

All of your tattoos were on full display and so were your piercings, including the one on your clit which Cillian became rather curious about.

He could not take this any longer and watched you desperately as your body cried out and you responded by slowly inserting your index finger into your cavity and sliding it back out. You did this a few times until she pushed it in deep and held it there, massaging your inner walls. Then you added a second finger into your hot pussy pushing some of your juices out onto your hand.

Cillian swallowed harshly when, eventually, you removed your fingers from your hole and placed them one by one into your mouth, sucking them clean.

‘Jesus fucking christ’ he thought and, despite the fact that he knew that Lindsay would be visiting him in the next hour or so, he turned around and made a quick run to his bedroom.

Seeing you like this was too much for him and, without giving it a second thought, he unzipped his jeans and pushed them down half way in order to release his raging erection.

Leaning against the dresser in the bedroom, he began to stroke his hard shaft vigorously, thinking about what you did in the bathroom at the same time as he was seeking relief.

Just as Cillian was stroking his cock hard and fast while thinking about you, you thrusted your fingers in and out of your pussy while thinking of him. Eventually, you began to pound your pussy, slapping your clit with each thrust. Faster and harder bringing yourself to an orgasm.

Just as you came, your moans filled the entire house, thinking that you were on your own.

‘Oh god, yes Cillian’ you groaned and there was no mistaking it. It was his name he heard when you came and this alone sent him over the edge, causing him to cum hard onto the pile of dirty clothes besides the dresser.

Just as he stroked the last few drops of cum from his shaft, he heard the doorbell ring.

Quickly, he grabbed one of the t-shirts from the pile of clothes and cleaned himself up before walking downstairs and opening the front door.

‘Hey Sweetie’ Lindsay said, carrying two shopping bags.

‘You are early’ Cillian said before giving her a brief kiss.

‘I wanted to surprise you and thought I would cook for you. For Y/N too, of course. At least this way, you can finally introduce us properly and I don’t feel like your beck in call’ Lindsay explained.

‘Sounds great’ Cillian said somewhat flustered just as you walked through the hallway almost completely naked.

‘Oh my god, you are home…fuck’ you shouted, covering your breasts with a towel and Cillian couldn’t help but sigh.

He thought about you, calling out his name as you masturbated and now he was in his hallway with Lindsay who clearly wanted to mark her territory.

Tag List:

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#cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy imagine

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hogwartsfirebolt · 4 years ago

Text

timebomb

for @drarrymicrofic prompt "better than fighting" (did I intend for this to be 2.3k no i did not)

The day Harry slept with Malfoy for the first time, was also the day he bruised his knuckles punching his boss in the nose.

The impossible chain of events that led to that stupid, ridiculous, unthinkable conclusion — sleeping with Malfoy, of course, not punching his boss — started two weeks earlier, when Robards slammed a shiny red folder on his desk and said, Sixteen werewolves disappeared yesterday. Find them.

Sixteen werewolves, three families. Including children.

Everyone knew Harry went crazy when children were involved.

In under two days, he found clues that seemed to suggest a high member of the Wizengamot was responsible and launched himself into an apprehension mission without filing for the permit, because he was sure every second that passed, more werewolves were getting kidnapped. He ended up escorting a furious Member Breckenridge to a holding cell.

Robards failed to see his logic, however. It turned out Breckenridge was working with the department in an attempt to catch the actual criminal, and Harry got reprimanded for skipping procedure.

But Harry, tired as hell of having information kept from him for the nth time in his life because, well, Dumbledore, exploded.

He didn’t even feel sorry as he yelled at Robards in front of the entire department for sending him blind into a case that could’ve compromised the wellbeing of so many creatures, including children, and how could he, when Harry could very well have saved them if only he’d known, and — that was about the time he walked up to Robard’s desk and punched him right in the nose.

So, that was the first impossible event in the series of impossible events.

The second was as follows: Harry was put on desk duty for at least six months, Potter, you should thank Merlin I’m not firing you.

This, in Harry’s opinion, should definitely be considered an impossible event. He hadn’t been on desk duty for five years, and had thought himself free of the burden, forever. He’d been wrong.

The consequences to his confinement became rapidly evident, however. For starters, every single person sharing the wide room that served as the headquarters to the Auror force filed a complaint before the clock had struck six that very evening. The Aurors were a notoriously conflictive sort, hardly ever agreed on anything, so the fact that they were all together in their fear was the third impossible event. To be fair, it was terrifying. Harry’s absolute lack of respect for authority coupled with his inability to sit still for even a second made every one of his coworkers fear for their life now they knew they’d be subjected to the rage of the caged tiger for at least six months.

So, all of Harry’s coworkers filed said complaint — all of them, including the incidental employees from other departments that had to pass through Auror quarters for one reason or the other — and stayed within a 10 feet radius of his desk at all times as he fumed so hard he half thought steam would come out of his ears.

The fifth impossible thing was that the only one person who stepped into the office and didn’t immediately run to Robards to make sure they weren’t hallucinating Harry aggressively punching holes through his stationery at the desk he hadn’t occupied in five years, was Draco Malfoy.

Malfoy showed up in the vibrant blue robes that marked his position as a member of the Department of Invoices, Correspondence and Credit, or, as Harry liked to call them, glorified mailmen, and leaned over his desk with a snooty smirk, not appearing surprised to see him.

He’d never been afraid of him, after all.

“If it isn’t the man who made Robards walk into his afternoon meeting with a bloody nose,” he said, apparently fucking oblivious to the very obvious signals Harry’s body was sending him to shut the hell up — the tense fists, the clenched teeth, the jumping muscles of his jaw. Malfoy didn’t see any of it. He continued, “well, what could we have expected, really, you’ve always been rather ... ah, ill-mannered,” and continued, “member Breckenridge had an interesting story at lunch earlier,” and continued, “escapes me how Robards was surprised by your acting on your first impulse, after all …”

And then Harry shut him up. He stood up abruptly, slammed his palms on the desk and leaned into Malfoy’s space, lip curled. He knew, logically, that he was being unreasonable. He also knew he kind of wanted to snarl.

Malfoy blinked, startled.

“What the fuck do you want?” Harry asked. Malfoy kept blinking at him. “Were you here for a reason, or did you come here looking for a fight? Because I will fight you, Malfoy, I -“

“Circe, you’ve got mail,” interrupted Malfoy, waving a neat stack of letters before setting them down by Harry’s hole puncher. “You ought to be kept on a leash, I swear to Merlin.”

Harry was seething by then, however, and decided snarling didn’t seem like such a bad idea after all.

And somehow, after he had delivered a comeback and Malfoy kept pestering him anyway, he found his fingers clenching around the front of Malfoy’s robes, pulling him towards the archive room, through a small door, and apparating him to his house in London. Malfoy’s house. Harry wasn’t very sure how he knew the address well enough to end up there, but he did and he had. This was the sixth impossible thing.

Malfoy spluttered, raged, but his hands pulled Harry close and into the house and it happened.

Harry slept with him. This was the stupid, ridiculous, unthinkable conclusion.

Thinking back on it, he was inclined to say that he’d been out of his mind, but the truth was, he’d had plenty of time to back off, and he hadn’t.

Even more ridiculous, even more unthinkable, was the fact that it … did something to him. After they’d had a go at it in Malfoy’s couch, Harry’s anger had — not disappeared, exactly, but it had been taken over by something bigger, stronger. A raging hunger he’d not experienced in … possibly ever.

And by then he’d been so, so angry for so many years, that he was hesitant to let go of the new feeling. He’d slipped his thumb into Malfoy’s mouth, and they’d had another go at it on his living room floor, and then another in the kitchen, and another in the bedroom, right before passing out, worn out and not angry, for the first time in longer than he’d care to admit.

He felt ashamed of it in the morning, as he was forced to vanish the evidence of their coupling from his chest and thighs, as he apparated home and scrubbed himself down in the shower, as he went to work and kept his head down, sure everyone would take a look at him and know he’d gone and done the unthinkable.

But even the shame was different from the everlasting anger he’d carried.

As he sat at the dreaded desk and curled his lip at the stupid, prying coworkers who stared at him, he found he couldn’t muster up the rage to continue punching holes through all his case reports, and proceeded to be so incredibly embarrassed that his face blushed bright red and he had to pretend to choke on his tea and cough violently so nobody would suspect a thing.

Around the sixth time he did the entire tea-choke-cough thing to fight yet another memory of the night before, the door to the headquarters slammed open and in walked Draco Malfoy, with a swagger to his step and a grin so bright that Harry’s hatred for him was turned up to eleven and intensified past stratospheric levels. Inexplicably, he wanted to run.

“Potter,” Malfoy said, white teeth flashing. Harry thought of a panther, then scowled because no way was intimidating a word he was willing to associate with the little shit standing in front of him, and willed himself to think of a stupid, raging, harmless house cat. Much more fitting. He made a mewling sound similar to theirs, anyway, when he – “Missed me?”

“Why are you talking to me?” Harry asked, digging inside himself for the anger, for something to hurl at Malfoy and run away, escape his maddening smirk, but he came up short.

Malfoy’s grin widened.

“Oh, you know, the usual.” He said, and it indeed was the usual — oblivious as usual, infuriating as usual, then leaned right into Harry’s space, crowding him against his chair and hitting him with his disgusting, revolting, nauseating, fresh minty breath. Then, he showed him a thin envelope. “Your mail.”

Harry snatched it from him. “Good. Now piss off.”

“As you wish. See you later.”

“Not if I can help it.”

He could still hear Malfoy’s laugh, even after he’d left and closed the door, could still feel the disgusting, revolting, nauseating minty breath inside his nostrils, and if he wasn’t careful he could still feel the shape of Malfoy’s mouth around his —

He most definitely was not seeing him later.

Harry told himself this all day. Not seeing him later, he told himself as he stood in front of Robards after he’d summoned him for a ‘meeting’ that was really just a load of bullshit on protocol and procedures and useless things Harry did not give a damn about. Not seeing him later, he told himself as he bought a salad at the café two streets down the ministry and smiled back at the lovely waitress. Not seeing him later, he told himself as he sat at his desk and found himself capable of punching holes after all, but not exactly out of anger.

Not seeing him later, he told himself after his shift was over and he left headquarters.

Not seeing him later, he told himself, as he apparated straight into Malfoy’s living room.

And there he was.

For a second he looked surprised, vulnerable, a flash in his eyes as he took Harry in that spoke of uncertainty. Then, he looked as thought he’d been expecting him.

“You couldn’t help it, then?” He asked, stepping forward and not making any sense whatsoever.

“What are you talking about?” Harry said. It came out low, and not at all the way he’d intended.

“You said you wouldn’t see me if you could help it.” There was triumph somewhere in that sentence, or an attempt at it. There was also a tremble right in the middle, a fracture.

A red, pulsating curl of – of something rose inside Harry’s belly, and he grabbed onto it with desperation, thinking it was there, the anger, safety. But as he took it, owned it and stepped forward to punch Malfoy in the nose as he’d done Robards the day before, he found himself pushing him up against the wall instead, and bringing his face very close to his.

Malfoy’s eyes were a ring of silver overtaken by the wide abyss of his pupils. Awful, disgusting, they made Harry think of ugly murky waters and nasty storm clouds and made him want to retch.

He slid a hand into wispy, blonde, awful, disgusting, revolting hair and pulled him into a rough kiss that was all teeth.

They had a go at it on the living room floor, then another two in the bedroom, before collapsing from exhaustion.

When their wand alarms went off at the same time in the morning, Harry opened his eyes to see Malfoy between his legs. No time for shame.

Afterwards, they padded downstairs, Malfoy two steps ahead of him, wearing nothing. Harry couldn’t look at him, couldn’t look away.

It was different in the morning light.

Malfoy was different, his naked body as he made them sandwiches was different, his eyes resembled something other than murky waters and his hair brushing against his forehead, against the constellations of freckles on his cheekbones was different, and his bare feet, light and silent on the hardwood floors were different, and the curve of his arms and the planes of his chest were different, and his cock hanging between his legs looked different, and Harry — Harry also felt different.

There was the usual racing of his heart, but no trace of anger, the usual heat in his chest and stomach, but not a sign of rage, the usual need to put his hands on the other person, but no want for violence.

He felt his fingers tremble as he poured water into an empty cup.

“Mayo?” Malfoy asked, low, sleepy.

Harry swallowed. “Yeah.”

Malfoy hummed, and Harry stared as he spread mayo onto his bread. At the work of his long, bony fingers. He tried to think they were disgusting, and couldn’t.

“Here,” Malfoy said, handing him the plate when he was done. Harry took it, put it aside.

They had another go at it in the kitchen.

“Isn’t it better?” Malfoy asked, breathless, pushing back against him, hands planted on the counter.

“Better?” Harry said, grunted into his shoulder, into the beauty mark he was getting acquainted with.

“Than … than anger – oh god, please.” He dropped his head back against Harry’s chest, panted, moved faster. “Than fighting.”

Then, he shifted and Harry stopped thinking for a while.

Later, leaning against the wall of the shower as he watched Malfoy wash his hair, he thought about it.

Better than anger.

Better than fighting.

Was it?

He brought a hand up, brushed his fingers against Malfoy’s chest, traced the lines leading down to his hips. Thought about fighting him, arguing. Thought about something else.

They had another go at it under the stream of water, as it turned cold against their feverish skin.

Stupid, unthinkable, ridiculous, perfect, just right conclusion. Harry supposed it was better than fighting.

#drarry #drarry microfic #drarrymicrofic #mine #drarry fic #draco malfoy #harry potter #mywriting

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mypoisonedvine · 4 years ago

Text

The Sort of Things We Usually Do Alone | Mob!Sam Wilson, Mob!Bucky Barnes, and Mob!Steve Rogers x Reader

summary: it’s not like you didn’t know what you were getting yourself into when you got a job at a mob-controlled strip club. still, you never saw this coming.

warnings: technically dub con but it’s pretty light, there’s three dudes and one girl so i bet you can guess that every hole is going to come into discussion, plus some pain kink and metal arm kink. (note: none of them are fully dark here, but like… it’s the mob so, they’re not 100% gentlemen either. just bossy and demanding and a wee bit possessive, but not true creeps.)

word count: 3.7k

@evnscvll @mandalorianspace @ballyhoobarnes @mariahthelioness29

moodboard by yours truly

Funny enough, you had actually been expecting an easy night tonight. You were just doing bottle service-- no pole, no private events-- so unless somebody specifically requested you for a lap dance, you were basically off the hook. Less tips, but you were already looking forward to getting home and changing into something considerably less tight than what you were wearing now.

That all went out the window when you saw three suits walk in the door. You knew who they were: everyone did. Just the way they walked made it clear that they owned the place-- literally.

Sam, specifically, you recognized. He was pretty high up in the organization but he spent the most time here of anyone. You and Sam had an... arrangement, to put it softly. You gave him a lot of private dances, and you did things with him that you most certainly were not permitted to do with other customers. The two men beside him-- one with dark hair and an even darker glare, the other with shorter blonde locks and gorgeous blue eyes-- seemed new.

You pretended not to see them as you set down your tray of drinks and waited for Sam to come to you, like he always did. You felt his hand on the small of your back and turned to look up at him through your lashes, a little surprised to see the other two still with him rather than dispersing into the crowd.

“Hey there," Sam purred at you, leaning against the bar beside where you were standing.

"Hi," you replied coyly.

"You miss me?"

"Always."

"Mm, you're a good liar," he grinned, lifting your chin with one finger and leaning in for an open-mouthed kiss.

You stopped him with a gentle press of your hands against his chest. "Um, you haven't introduced me to your friends…"

Maybe it was ironically conservative for you to object to being kissed in front of men you didn't know when you literally got naked for strangers every day, but you figured that he had something important to tell you about them. If he didn't, he would've taken you to the back room by now.

"Oh! I almost forgot. We got some fresh blood-- Bucky," he motioned to the dark haired one, "and Steve," he shoved the other on the shoulder. Bucky barely even acknowledged you aside from a slow scan of your body with his gaze; Steve gave you a slightly awkward half-smile.

"Hi there, boys," you greeted with your brightest smile. "Welcome to the family."

"You're gonna welcome them a little better than that," Sam grinned. "Why don't you give Bucky a lap dance, huh? On the house, of course."

"Sure," you agreed, trying to hide your confusion that he would suggest something like that. Normally he was pretty possessive and jealous.

Just as you started to walk towards the chairs by the stage, Sam interjected.

"No, sweetheart-- take him to the back."

You could hardly believe what you were hearing. "A… private dance?"

"Well, Steve and I will be close by. So not that private."

"Uhh, sure. This way," you led Bucky with a curled finger and a saunter into the back hallway, past the red velvet curtain where the lights were even darker and the carpet was plushy and soft under your stilettos.

"Take a seat," you offered as you turned the corner to the room you and Sam usually used. Bucky relaxed into the black suede chair, his eyes never leaving you. Only then did you notice that he was wearing leather gloves-- a little peculiar, but you’d definitely seen stranger

You felt Sam and Steve step a little closer behind you, caging you in. Even moreso, you felt three pairs of eyes on you. It felt different, somehow, than having dozens on you when you danced on stage.

"For private dances,” you explained slowly, “I typically wear… a little bit less than this…”

"I'm not gonna stop you," Bucky shrugged.

Yeah, but is Sam? you replied internally.

He didn't. What he did instead was tell Steve to help you unzip the back of your dress.

"Thank you," you mumbled as you made sure your hair was out of the way, shivering a little as his fingers ghosted over your neck to get a grip on the zipper, slowly sliding it down to the small of your back.

Stepping forward, you slipped the straps off your shoulders and let the dress fall to the floor.

"You're wearing the set I bought you," Sam noticed with a grin. He said you looked best in black. You weren't sure you agreed but you ended up using this set a lot anyways.

"You have good taste," you replied.

"Agreed," Bucky murmured, looking up at you from his chair.

Lifting one leg and sliding it next to him on the couch, you slowly lowered yourself until you were straddling him.

You gingerly wrapped your arms around his shoulders and began to move slowly, going through the motions and noticing the way he unabashedly stared at your chest. The lace bra didn’t leave much to the imagination.

There was a tension in the air as you moved over him, only the thumping bass echoing from the main floor breaking the silence. Some guys liked to talk during a dance, but Bucky’s brooding said more than enough. You could sense his restraint being tested-- occasionally you could even hear his fist tighten thanks to the creaking of the leather gloves.

Quickly turning to face the other way, you rubbed your ass on his crotch and almost let out a groan when you felt that he was hard. Hoping to tease him, you lifted your hips only to gasp when he grabbed you and pulled you down onto him, his breath hot on the back of your neck.

“N-no touching,” you stammered, grabbing his wrists and placing his hands beside his legs.

“Let him touch you,” Sam instructed darkly.

“Really?”

“Did I stutter?”

You breathed shakily as you lifted your hands from Bucky’s wrists; as soon as he was free to, he reached around you and used his left hand to remove his right glove and toss it aside. You thought it was a little odd that he left the other one on, but once he was running his hands over your thighs and pushing your legs apart, you didn’t think much of it anymore.

You shivered as his right hand moved, excruciatingly slowly, towards your lace-clad pussy.

“You’re sort of shy, for a stripper,” Bucky whispered in your ear.

“Believe it or not, this is new for me,” you whispered back, giving a quick glance to where Steve and Sam were standing and watching you both intently. Your head fell back onto Bucky’s shoulder when one finger toyed with the edge of the lace of your panties.

His left hand pushed your face to the side so that he could kiss you, and before you were thinking about it you were kissing him back.

Finally, you felt Bucky's fingers pull your lingerie to the side and slide through your folds. He growled into your eager mouth when he felt how wet you were.

"Can I fuck her?" he asked, and you didn't realize until Sam replied that he was asking his permission.

"Not yet," was Sam's quick answer as he approached you. Grabbing your jaw, Sam pulled you forward and kissed you roughly.

Sam's kisses always made you feel completely at his disposal; his mouth dominated yours aggressively, and his hand wrapped around your neck just tight enough to make your heart race.

"Such a good little slut, aren't you?" he teased when he pulled back-- though he was still so close that his lips brushed against yours when he spoke.

"Yes-- for you," you answered.

"And you'll be good for them too, won't you? Get 'em initiated into the family?"

"Of course," you nodded quickly, "whatever you want."

"You said we were coming here for a team-building exercise," Steve recalled with crossed arms.

"And did I lie?" Sam retorted, standing up again to give him a glare. “Typically when I share my things with people, they’re grateful.”

“Right-- of course I am,” Steve backtracked quickly, “I just hope she’s not only doing it because you said to.”

“Aw, you’re worrying a little too much,” Sam chuckled. “She’s a whore, Steve. She loves it.”

"Go ahead baby," Sam continued, addressing you now, "give him the full treatment. But save some strength because Steve's going next."

You stood up and flipped around again, working open the buttons of Bucky’s shirt. Typically, guys responded really well to this part, leaning back and letting you undress them. He tensed up, though, and his eyes went a little wide.

“I wanna see you,” you explained, taking a moment to reach under the part of his shirt you’d opened so far and run your hand over his muscled chest.

“May not like what you see,” he warned you.

“I doubt that,” you grinned, already nearly halfway done with the buttons.

When you finished with the tedious buttons and pushed his shirt and jacket aside, you understood what he had been worried about: his shoulder was covered in scars, and even in the low light of the room you could tell that everything past that point was a metal prosthetic.

"That explains the glove you won't take off," you commented dryly.

"I didn't scare you off yet?" he asked like he was trying to stay cool, but was secretly worried it would bother you.

"Touch me with it," you requested quietly. Slowly, he removed the other glove and reached towards you with the metal hand.

His fingers were cold as they slid up your chest, around your neck, over your jaw. You dipped your head down a bit to take two of them into your mouth, swirling your tongue around them.

He bit his lip quickly before leaning forward and looking you right in the eyes. “Get on the couch, on your hands and knees,” he instructed firmly.

You obeyed so quickly that you wondered if you left a cloud of dust in the shape of your silhouette like a cartoon; Sam noticed, and laughed. “Eager, huh?”

“Extremely,” Bucky answered for you as he slipped your panties down, and pushed the spit-slicked metal fingers inside you. You moaned and gripped the back of the couch tighter. The fingers withdrew as suddenly as they had entered, and you saw a shirt and jacket land beside you on the couch. Next was the sound of his belt clinking as it opened-- it made you a little nervous, in an erotic sort of way.

You felt like the wind had been knocked out of you when Bucky thrust into you all at once. He wasn't bigger than Sam, at least as far as you could tell, but the shape of his cock was completely different. It pressed against your walls in new ways, and massaged places that you weren't used to feeling.

"Fuck," Bucky murmured behind you, "so goddamn tight."

You were already loud enough that anyone passing through the back hall would certainly hear you and know exactly what was happening. God forbid they saw three pairs of men’s shoes through the bottom of the curtain; the idea of someone knowing just how thoroughly you were being used made your face burn with a slightly pleasurable shame.

He moved just slow enough to make you wonder if he was trying to tease you. When he reached around and drew lazy circles around your clit, though, you were confident that he was trying to tease you.

“More, please,” you whimpered. “Fuck me harder.”

He laughed, and gave your ass a quick spank. “Poor thing, so needy,” he mocked. But he still did as you asked, holding you by your waist to keep you steady as he started to fuck you with the brutality you’d been hoping for.

He leaned down until it felt like his entire body would wrap around yours. He bit at the back of your neck and shoulders, growling as he fucked into you even deeper than you had realized was possible.

Just as you thought you both were on the path to coming, Sam stepped closer.

"Alright, step aside, loverboy," he chuckled, "I think you've had your fair share for now."

Bucky hesitated and you knew he didn't want to stop; you voluntarily clenched your walls around him as a little way of saying you weren't done with him yet either.

Reluctantly, he pulled out and you felt the rough skin of Sam's hand move up and down your back. "You want your turn with this pretty little cunt, Steve?" he asked, and you could hear the smile in his voice.

"No."

"...No?!"

"I want that ass."

You swallowed dryly; Sam grinned.

"I like your style, man. Go ahead, have at it."

Steve took off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves before he started to run his hands all over your body, humming contentedly. He moved a finger through your folds to wet it, then gently pushed it past your tight rim. "More," you requested with a moan.

"Already?" Steve questioned, but obeyed, adding a second finger quickly.

He scissored his fingers back and forth, slowly stretching you open. Your face was so hot you could probably fry an egg on it; you felt very exposed getting your ass fingered with two men watching you intently.

"Hurry up, please, I want it," you whimpered. You knew you could take the pain, and on days like this, you actually craved it.

"Just a little more babygirl," Steve promised, "gotta get you ready for me. Don't wanna break you."

"I wish you would," you admitted, and you heard Bucky laugh quietly from the sidelines.

Steve got a little more serious suddenly, leaning down as he slipped a third finger into you roughly. "I don't know if you could take me, little girl. I could split you in half," he growled right against your ear.

Your back arched. You wanted it so bad.

“I know that’s what you need, but if I did Sam would probably kill me. So be a good girl and be patient, alright?”

You nodded and bit your lip, doing your best to relax as he continued to twist his fingers inside you.

Thankfully, it wasn’t all too long before you felt him slide them out, that telltale jingling of his belt buckle in your ears again. You moaned when his hard cock slid between your legs, becoming coated in your arousal. Once he was satisfied, he pushed into your waiting hole; he’d prepared you so well that there was almost no resistance for the first half, but then as he got thicker and harder, you felt it start to burn. Not that you minded.

When he was fully inside, you both gasped. Of course, you were still trying to process the feeling when he was starting to slam into you. This guy did not beat around the bush, holy shit.

“Fuck, you like it, huh?” he taunted, fucking you even harder and faster.

“Yes!” you cried out, feeling his cock brushing against sensitive places inside you-- even if it was through a barrier.

Sam suddenly appeared on the couch next to you. You felt a little nervous as his gaze scanned your face, and you looked back at him with wide eyes. He slid under you on the couch, toying with your clit and grinning when he felt your wetness.

"Look who loves it in the ass,” he mumbled against your ear.

You couldn't respond, distracted by Sam's cock pressing against your available opening. You had been expecting it to feel familiar, but with Steve inside you, everything felt completely different.

"Oh god," you groaned as Sam pressed forward; he hissed at the sensation of how wet and hot you were for him.

"How does it feel baby?" he asked as he started to bite at your neck.

"So full… so good…"

"What do you want us to do, kitten?"

"I want you to fuck me so hard…"

Before they had really started to get their rhythm, you fought through your haze and motioned for Bucky to come closer. When he did, you licked a long stripe up his cock before taking as much as you could into your throat.

"Fuck, just like that," Bucky praised, pushing your hair back so he could see your face. "Choke on it."

With so many cocks moving inside you, you felt like a ragdoll in their hands. But more than even you had expected, you loved being their toy.

Sam loved to leave marks all over you, even though it made your job harder-- especially because it made your job harder, in fact. He loved everyone knowing how owned you are. So it was no surprise that he was already doing his best to leave bruises in the shape of his fingerprints everywhere he could reach. You could tell he was already getting close-- and you were too, close to something so intense that you worried about passing out.

"Want me to come on your cute little face, baby?" Sam asked, his voice deeper and more gravelly than usual.

You shook your head, Bucky's cock still in your mouth.

"On your perfect tits?"

You shook it again, even as Bucky grabbed the back of your head and pushed you all the way to the base.

"Oh, that's right… you want me to fill up this sopping cunt, right?"

You nodded furiously, a tear sliding down your cheek.

"You wanna be full of my come, sticky and wet all night? Then beg for it, sweetheart."

Bucky released you, and the second you were free to breathe you were pleading already, stroking him quickly.

"Sam, please! I need to be full of your come-- I want it so bad, please, just come inside me and don't stop until every drop is in please please please--"

"Holy hell, I can't take much more of this," Steve hissed as his hands dug deeper into your skin.

"You want us all to come?" Sam pressed.

"Yes, please!"

"Fuck," Bucky groaned, "keep stroking me-- finish me off on your face."

“Please-- I want you to come, so bad,” you whimpered. “Oh god, I’m gonna come, I’m gonna fucking come, fuck!”

The hand that wasn’t around Bucky’s cock was accidentally digging into Sam’s shoulder, certainly hard enough to leave half-moon cuts from your nails. He didn’t seem to mind though, fucking you through your orgasm as he fell into his own, finishing with a noise that mixed a moan with a growl.

Steve was next, and you could feel his cock swelling and pulsing; it was like one last test of your body’s physical capabilities, since you’d already thought you were at your limit.

Last but not least, of course, was Bucky. You opened your mouth and let his come fall in warm streams on your face and tongue. He made the most beautiful sounds as you kept stroking him through it, and eventually he had to pull your hand off of him when it became too much. You swallowed what had landed in your open mouth, taking a moment to wipe some off your face and suck it off of your finger as well. A drip started to wander towards your eye, which you shut to avoid that disaster.

Bucky looked at you like you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, even though you undoubtedly looked like a complete mess. All three of them were looking at you that way, actually, but you couldn’t see them.

“Jesus, Sam,” Steve chuckled as he pulled out and watched his come leak from your abused hole, “I gotta be honest, if I had a girl like this, I wouldn’t let her work in a club.”

“Yeah, I’ve thought about pulling her out,” Sam admitted, wincing a little as he tapped your leg to signal you should get off of him, which you did.

You don’t know the first thing about pulling out, you replied internally.

“She makes us a lot of money, though,” Sam explained.

“But the way she looks right now,” Bucky grinned, “that’s priceless.”

“Ha, yeah, well of course you would say that,” Sam rolled his eyes. “If you think that coming on her face will successfully mark your territory or something, you’re wrong.”

But Bucky wasn’t listening, he was too busy grabbing your neck and pulling you into a filthy kiss. You could tell he was tasting himself on your tongue, and when he pulled back, he’d even smeared some come on his nose and cheeks. He wiped it off like it was nothing and grinned at you. That, on the other hand, did feel like a somewhat successful territory-marking.

“Now I feel kinda bad,” Steve pouted. “She’s gonna have to take three showers to get clean enough to go back out there.”

“Oh, I think she’s done for the night,” Sam announced as you finally got your chance to relax and lay back on the couch-- though it wasn’t that relaxing, because you were sore everywhere, and still wearing those stupid uncomfortable heels.

“You’re letting me go home early?” you repeated, your voice coming out froggy and strange; you cleared your throat and ignored the way it tasted like come.

“Hmm, not quite,” Sam smirked. “I think Steve here has a point. For one thing, you shouldn’t be going back to that horrible apartment every night. You live in a really dangerous part of town.”

“It’s not dangerous if you’ve got mob protection,” you countered.

“But I can’t protect you when you live so far away,” he frowned. “Come back to mine, clean up in a much nicer shower than you’re used to, and you can get back to work tomorrow, alright?”

“Sure,” you agreed, “but maybe… get me a rag first?”

“I’ll drive you,” Bucky offered.

That meant you weren’t going to get a rag. What you didn’t realize at the time was that it also meant Bucky and Steve were going to stay the night at Sam’s, too. What you never could’ve imagined was that the four of you weren’t going to leave again for quite some time. And what you would’ve actually bet money against if somebody had asked you about it that morning was that you weren’t going to be working in the club anymore.

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alltooreid · 4 years ago

Text

Clean

As Spencer struggles to overcome his dilaudid addiction, Y/N is dealing with an addiction of her own, to her toxic, manipulative boyfriend. This is an account of a full year, following their joint journeys to sobriety and new love.

A/N: Hi!! I have another Taylor Swift inspired Spencer Reid one shot (but of course you do not need to know the song to understand the one shot). Although originally I was going to write something more fluffy, I switched to this song to write something more angsty and interesting. However, to change pace from my last one shot, this one has a much happier, hopeful ending. However, it is very triggering so please read the trigger warnings before you start. Also, if you have any songs you want to read please let me know!! Also, if you just have a general request please send it my way! Thank you so much for the love on my All Too Well one shot, I never thought my first fanfic on here would be so well received!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Type: Angst, but hopeful angst

Word Count: 7.6K

Content Warnings: Cursing, mentally and physically abusive relationship, relationship cheating (ie, reader is being cheated on), blood and cuts description, drug addiction (these parts are kept short purposefully), lots of fighting and yelling both in reader’s relationship and between Spencer and reader, however, there is a happy and hopeful ending. Reader is struggling to get out of her toxic relationship, please no comments about her being stupid. If you are in a situation like Y/N, please don’t use this fic as a guide. Get help immediately. https://www.thehotline.org/

Things to Know: Italics and bold are flashback moments, the time and date headers serve as time skips :) let me know what you think! Please request any songs you would like to see be made one shots!

“You're still all over me Like a wine-stained dress I can't wear anymore Hung my head as I lost the war And the sky turned black like a perfect storm”

3:27 AM, April 16th, 2007.

You have known Spencer for a long time. In fact, you’ve known him longer than you’ve known Randall, and you’ve felt like you’ve known Randall your entire life.

Maybe that’s because you let him become your entire life.

Still, although you had known Spencer for 7 years, 2 years longer than the entirety of your on again, off again relationship with Randall. You still felt weird calling him. He was going through a lot right now, not that he wasn’t normally. Spencer had one of the most difficult jobs you could think of. You know Spencer has shot and killed people before, and you know every time he did it ate him up inside.

And every time he did he called you.

You also knew that Spencer is one of the kindest people you have ever met, you struggle to imagine him wielding a gun on a daily basis. He just seems too sweet, too perfect.

Yet there was a lot you didn’t know about the young genius.

You have no idea that as you stand in the street, contemplating whether you should call Spencer to come and get you, Spencer is making a difficult decision of his own. As you worry about the possibility of waking Spencer up this early in the morning, Spencer sits wide awake and ponders if he has enough time to get high before he has to leave for work in 3 hours.

As you sit on the side of the road, debating between your very few options, Spencer leads up against the side of his bathtub tears pouring down his cheeks, tears that he doesn’t even register as being there.

Fortunately for the both of you, at the same time Spencer reaches into his bag to search for that tiny glass bottle, his phone begins to ring.

“Y/N? Are you okay?”

You sigh, “He kicked me out again Spencer, is there anyway you can come get me?”

Spencer looks around his apartment, frantically hiding the belt and the needles he had gotten out for the events he was anticipating. “Yeah, of course I can come get you, um, just give me a couple minutes and send me your location.”

3:52 AM, April 16th, 2007.

You’re in the passenger’s seat of Spencer’s car, both of you sitting in silence. This situation isn’t new to either of you, Spencer has picked you up plenty of times before, in fact he’s done it for years now. One time, about 3 years into your relationship with Randall, you were permitted to go out by yourself with Spencer’s team, they wanted to meet you, apparently Spencer talked about you all the time. While you were at dinner with them, Morgan asked you if you had a car of your own. You explained that you did, but that your boyfriend had it a majority of the time, and that when he didn’t he hated you using it because you always had to mess with everything. He hates you touching his stuff. Morgan made a weird face about that answer, so you quickly followed up, explaining that you didn’t mind.

You do mind though. You hate how he never lets you touch anything or go anywhere, and you hate how much he despises your only form of transportation.

Spencer.

Randall hates everything about Spencer Reid, and he especially hates seeing his car pull into your driveway. That’s why after the 8th time he kicked you out, you started walking half a mile to the nearest gas station before calling Spencer.

The first time Spencer came to get you Randall came out to talk to you before you left.

“What are you doing? Who is this?”

“It’s Spencer, he’s gonna take me to his apartment.” you explained, confused why Randall was so angry you were leaving when he was the one who had kicked you out.

“Oh so just because I don’t want to look at your bitchass all night that means you can go sleep with another man? I knew you were a whore Y/N. You know him and his stupid fucking car aren’t going to be able to deal with you the way I can. How old is that thing anyway?”

“Randall, calm down, I’m not sleeping with Spencer. I love you, I don’t want to sleep with anyone else. But I’m not gonna sit out here all night, where else should I go?”

“Well maybe if you weren’t so quick to whore yourself out to the easiest man you could find I would invite you back inside,” he said before slamming the door in your face.

So you got in Spencer’s car, the one Randall would grow to hate so much.

“Are you okay Y/N? He didn’t hit you did he? You know you can come live with me, you should really get out of that house, I can get Morgan tomorrow and we can go get your belongings. I have plenty of-”

You snapped at him, “No Spencer he’s not hitting me! Why do you always jump to that conclusion, Randall is a great guy! I would’ve never called you if you were going to jump to conclusions like this. You’re supposed to be a genius, yet you’re acting like such a dumb ass right now.”

Spencer looked at you, and immediately you regretted your words. You knew Spencer was just worried about you and with his line of work he had reason to be. However before you could apologize he spoke again.

“I’m sorry Y/N, forget I said anything.”

You both sat in silence for a few moments before you even knew what to say, and yet all you could think of was, “Hey Spence, what kind of car do you drive?”

He smiled, “It’s a 1965 Volvo Amazon P130 122S, it’s horizon blue, that’s the color they refer to it as. Did you know they’re known as so reliable that the 4 door models are still used as police vehicles in some places. This one’s a two door, but still runs great. . . “

You smiled, how fitting a man as reliable as Spencer Reid had the perfect car to match.

When you get to Spencer’s apartment something seems off. Spencer has always lived in organized chaos, but this just feels different. Unlike his normal mess, this one feels like a blatant disregard for his things, even some of his most prized possessions. His books are strewn across the floors, his clothes overflowing from his laundry basket, which was a mix of both folded, clean, yet to be put away things and worn items. Weirdly, the one place that looks untouched is his kitchen, as if he hasn’t used it in months. And you mean that in the most literal interpretation, his counters are covered in visible, undisturbed dust.

“Thank you so much Spencer, I don’t know what I would do without you.”

He smiles, but his eyes look so tired. “Don’t worry about it Y/N.”

And at 4:47, you finally fall asleep in Spencer’s bedroom, which he insists you take, and he stays awake until he leaves for work just a few hours later.

9:33 PM, April 17th, 2007.

You leave Spencer’s apartment the following night, after an unfortunate screaming match with him. You have never seen him so angry, so easily ticked off. Yet as soon as Randall called you Spencer became aggressive.

“Yeah babe, I’ll be home as soon as I can. I’ll take a cab and be home within the hour. Of course I’m not mad at you sweetheart, I know you didn’t mean it. I love you, see you soon.”

Spencer exitted his kitchen in a huff, and opened his mouth to start talking before you spoke up.

“I’m sure you’ve overheard already, but Randall’s letting me back in the house. Thank you so much Spence. I really appreciate everything you do to help me. Call me soon please, I definitely owe you lunch,” you said, grabbing your coat and your phone, the only things you had managed to grab from your home before your unplanned eviction.

“Why do you even stay with him Y/N? Why do you keep going back there?” Spencer yelled. You had never seen him like this before, so livid and irritable.

“I love him Spence, and he loves me,” you explained, and you were telling the truth. You do love Randall, and you know that in his heart he loves you too, even if he got a little angry sometimes.

“If he loved you he wouldn’t treat you like this Y/N! Don’t you think I would know? I see this everyday! It’s my job! And yet my best friend is too stupid to realize she’s been in an abusive relationship for almost 6 years!”

You were just as angry now, “You’re wrong Spencer, I don’t wanna hear this okay? I love Randall and he loves me. We deserve each other.”

Spencer’s face softened before growing angry once more, “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Fuck you Spencer, I’m going home. I don’t need you and I don't need your help,” you said, grabbing your things and slamming the door open. You were lying, you need Spencer and you need his help more than anything, but you didn’t want to admit that while he was being such a dick.

“Fine!” he yelled, “Go run back to him then, but you better not call me when he kicks you out again. I don’t care anymore!”

And so you left, Spencer slammed the door behind you as you stormed out of his apartment. You didn’t stop to think about the fact that Spencer never acts like this. He has never lashed out at you, never questioned your relationship with Randall to your face, let alone scream at you and insult you because of it. You didn’t stop and think about what Spencer was on, or not on, that was making his act like this.

But you thought about it now.

You want to get home before Randall starts to get upset and suspicious, but now after your fight with Spencer you have to walk home. You couldn’t ask him to borrow cash for a cab, let alone ask him to drive you there. You were stuck walking, which also meant you were stuck with Randall’s wrath when you returned.

You already feel terrible about the way you treated Spencer. You think about going to apologize, and stand in front of the door for a second, weighing the pros and cons of doing so. Eventually, you go to turn away, ultimately deciding that you both needed to calm down before speaking to each other again.

Yet as you turn, the door opens. Spencer stands right there, strangely calm, seemingly out of it. All fury and anger you had seen just minutes before gone. In this moment he resembles Randall, and it's the first time you’ve ever been able to draw any comparison to the two.

It’s scary.

“Spencer I-” but you get cut off, not by words, but by an object. Before you can even register what was just thrown in your face the door is closed again. You duck down to grab what was thrown.

Twenty dollars.

For the cab ride home.

1:34 AM, April 23rd, 2007.

You light the final candle on your dining room table, before stepping back to admire your work. Randall always came home so late from work, so you rarely ate dinner together. But today was your anniversary, so you stayed up late, prepared his favorite meal and set up all of your fancy dinnerware so that you could have a very late dinner together before he goes to bed and you go to work. He should be home any minute now.

Yet 3 hours later Randall is not back. You’re just about to cut your losses and call it a night, and start to clean up the melted down candles and cold steak dinner as you hear your front door open.

“Y/N! What are you doing still awake?”

“Do you know what day it is Randall? Because I do.”

He looks down at his watch, checks the time, and looks back up at you, “Well it is now 3:57 AM, meaning it is now Monday. Which is why I’m curious as to what you’re still doing up sweetheart, you have to be at work in 3 hours.” “There’s something special about THIS Monday Randall,” you sigh, you’re disappointed but not surprised, this has happened for the past 3 years.

“Do you have a project going on at work baby? You know I can’t keep track of all that crap, your job is so silly and easy to lose track of. You have to remind me of these things if you actually want me to care about them.”

“It’s our anniversary Randall.”

He stops, but instead of looking guilty or remorseful (like you secretly hoped), he gets livid, “No it’s not, are you stupid or something?”

“Randall, baby it’s okay, it’s not a big deal.”

“No! You stupid fucking bitch, are you trying to make me look bad, cooking this stupid fancy dinner and staying up late. Trying to lie and act like I forgot our five year anniversary?! Stop playing the victim Y/N. So tell me, are you lying to make me feel bad, or is your brain really that fucking empty?”

“It’s our six year anniversary,” you whisper.

“What did you just say?”

“I said I was just being stupid Randall. You’re right baby, I forgot the date of our anniversary.”

He snarls. “I don’t think so Y/N, I think, actually I know that not only are you stupid, but that you’re a liar. I know that you just want to make me look bad by preparing our anniversary dinner a week early. And you have to push it by claiming we’ve been together for six years. I know it’s five. I’m not stupid.”

“I’m sorry, babe,” you cry.

“NO YOU’RE NOT!” he yells, pushing his plate of steak and mashed potatoes, letting your parent’s wedding china shatter on the ground. You cry harder. “You’re a stupid, waste of my time Y/N. Five wasted years I’ve spent on you. Do you know why I do it, huh. Do you know why I stay with you when I could have one of the beautiful, rich, successful, truthful women I’m fucking?”

You shake your head.

“It’s because I feel pity for you. No other man would want you. I’m the only one that will ever love you. You know that right Y/N?” He picks up a piece of your hair, gently tucking it behind your ear. “Tell me that I’m the only one who will love you, you know it’s the truth right?” You nod your head. In a swift motion Randall turns, grabs a glass full of red wine and chucks it at the wall, narrowly avoiding your left ear.

“I WANT TO HEAR YOU SAY IT.”

“You’re the only one who will ever love me Randall,” you croak out in between sobs.

He closes the distance between you two once more, gripping your chin and jerking your face so that your eyes meant his. It hurts, and makes you cry more, but you don’t say anything.

“Don’t you know it sweetness,” he lets go, delivers a sharp slap to your check and grips your wrist. “Now clean your mess up, and then I think it’s best if you get out of the house for a little bit, don’t you agree?”

You nod quickly. He smiles.

“Good girl, now I would normally be worried about you going to hook up with that string bean you’re always all over, but according to the last time I went through your phone, he isn’t in your recent calls. Glad to know he’s finally done with your bullshit. I’m sure a nice long walk alone will do you good. You can think about what led you to lying tonight, and then maybe you can come back in time for our real anniversary.”

He slips upstairs, so you clean up the rest of the uneaten meal and the broken wine class, cutting up your hands severely in the process. You spend at least an hour in a futile attempt to get red wine stains off of your wallpaper, before grabbing your phone and purse and running out the door.

Even after what Randall says, you still think about calling Spencer. Your thumb hovers over the call button for a minute until you switch the contact, phoning your boss instead. You inform her you need a personal day, and that it’s a family emergency.

You check the time, 6:53. Spencer is almost definitely on his way to work right now. You want to call him so bad, but the things he said you ring through your mind. You can’t ask for his help anymore.

For the first time, you are truly on your own.

Until a familiar horizon blue Volvo pulls up next to the curb you’re sitting on, and Spencer Reid sticks his head out the window.

“Y/N? What are you doing here? Get it the car, come on I’ll drive you to work with me.”

Confused as you are, this is your best option right now. So you climb into the passenger seat of his car, refusing to make eye contact with him, instead looking at your bleeding hands. “Oh my god, Y/N. You’re bleeding. Did Randall do this to you? Why didn’t you call me?”

“No, Spencer, Randall didn’t do this to me. He dropped a wine glass and I helped him pick it up. Now just drive.” And he does, drive that is. But you can feel his stares, on your cut up hands, and you forming bruises. You can feel him profiling the signs of abuse on your body.

But more than that you hate that you can feel he’s upset with you. Upset because you didn’t call him. Does he not remember screaming at you not too?

He pulls into the parking lot, parks the car and finally turns to make eye contact with you. He has tears in his, “I really wish you would’ve called me Y/N. If it’s getting this bad I want you to stay with me.”

“Spencer am I going insane?”

“Of course not, what do you mean?” he looks so gentle, so kind and you’re so confused.

“Do you remember what day me and Randall started dating?”

“Yes, it was April 23rd, 2001. 6 years ago today actually. Is that why he did this to you? Does it have anything to do with that?”

“How can you remember that but not our screaming match a week ago?” you laughed, your hands burned now, there’s definitely glass in there, you swear you can feel the tiny little shards in your blood.

“What do you mean, Y/N? We didn’t scream at each other? I haven’t even seen you in weeks. How long has he been hitting you? Why didn’t you call me sooner?”

“Spencer, on the 16th you picked me up and took me back to your apartment because Randall kicked me out. On the evening of the 17th I went to leave because Randall told me I could come home. You said I was being abused and called me stupid for going back to him. When we fought about it I stormed out and you told me not to call you if he kicked me out again because you didn’t care anymore. That’s why I didn’t call you.”

You look up at Spencer, and nearly start crying yourself when you see his crumpled face. Tears are freely spilling down his cheeks.

“I’m so sorry Y/N. I don’t remember that,” he pushes his long hair out of his face, clearly frazzled, “I- I can’t believe I don’t remember that.”

Before you can say anything, Spencer pulls out his phone. “Hey Hotch, it’s me. I can’t come in today. I need to use a personal day. . . I’ll tell you later. Okay, thank you” He angrily pulls out of the parking lot, and you can tell he’s headed back to his apartment.

“Spencer it’s okay, I’m not upset with you.”

“No Y/N, it’s not okay. I said all those terrible things to you, of course you were scared to call me after them. The worst part is I was too high to even remember it all. I- I just can’t believe I helped him do this to you,” tears still freely flowing down his face.

“Spencer what are you talking about? I was with you all day, you weren’t high. You don’t even drink, how could you be high?”

He sighs, “do you remember when I was kidnapped by that unsub, Tobias Hankel? About 2 months ago?” You nod, encouraging him to continue. “Well, I told you about his multiple personalities, how one beat me to death and then Tobias resurrected me, how I had to kill Tobias in order to survive, even though Tobias himself did nothing to me. Well when I was in the barn, Tobias would give me drugs, dilaudid, in order to cut the pain of his other personalities’ abuse. When I killed him, I took the drugs he had one him with me, and I can’t stop Y/N. It’s affecting my life, my work, and now it’s affecting you.” He parks his car in his apartment complex’s lot and turns to look at you. “Hotch has never said anything about it, so even though the team knows I have no reason to quit, I think I do now. Y/N, I think we need to get clean together.”

Suddenly that night made sense, Spencer was irritable and strange, he wasn’t high, he was going through withdrawal. But when he threw the money at you, so loopy and out of it, he was on it. He was so high he didn’t remember the moments before.

“Spencer, I don't know what to say. I want to help you get sober, I want that more than anything, but I’m not addicted to drugs, I rarely even drink.”

“I know Y/N, you don’t have a drug problem like me, but you are an addict. You need to leave Randall. You know it, I know it, but you can’t.” You open your mouth to defend yourself, but Spencer continues to speak, “It’s okay, I understand why. But we both need to quit, and I think it’s best if we do it together.”

“Well how are we supposed to do that,” you whisper.

“Come on, let’s get started,” you and Spencer exit his car, he loops your hands together, leading you up to his apartment. When you get there, he digs through his messenger bag and grabs a couple of tiny glass bottles and a syringe. He throws them into his garbage can, and turns to look at you.

“Pull out your phone.”

“What? Why?”

“We’re going to block Randall’s number.”

You want to fight him on it, but you know he’s right. You need to leave Randall, and now’s as good of a time as any. Yet, you can’t forget the things he’s said to you. “I can’t Spencer, he’s my boyfriend, he loves me.”

“Y/N, please, please do this with me.” You shake your head, he sighs. “Okay, I get it, this is going to take time. Just, um, stay with me for a couple days. Please. We can go get your stuff tomorrow night.”

You think about rejecting Spencer’s offer, but you really don’t want to go back there. More than anything, you want to stay right here. You try to tell yourself it’s because you’re worried about Spencer, but deep down you know it’s more than that. So you nod, and Spencer wraps you in a hug, burying his head into your shoulder.

“Thank you, Y/N. Now let’s go get your hands wrapped up.”

9:21 PM, May 2nd, 2007.

You’ve been staying at Spencer’s for just over a week now. You haven’t seen Randall since your anniversary, and Spencer hasn’t taken dilaudid while you’ve been here. Things are going well. You’re watching a lot of bad reality TV, and Spencer has gone through about 7 packs of Gatorade, but you’re both doing okay.

Now you were just waiting for him to come back from his case in Idaho, you knew this one was pretty bad. They were searching for a woman in the middle of a huge forest, as she was being hunted and chased down. Spencer called you right before getting on the jet, and told you he would be home soon, so now you were just waiting for him.

While doing so however, you found something. A lump on Spencer’s side of the mattress. Under it, were two small glass bottles and a syringe. The same ones you had seen Spencer throw into the garbage days prior.

Now you need to talk to Spencer, so you sit on his couch, and wait for him to come home. When he comes through the door, he immediately sees you and smiles. “Y/N! I’ve missed you.” He hugs you, and for a second you forget why you’re even mad at him in the first place.

“Spencer, I need to talk to you. I found your bottles.” The mood in the room instantly shifts, but you don’t care, you need to get your words out. “You told me you were quitting, I watched you throw them away.”

He brushes his hairs through his hair, and begins to mess with his hands. “I am quitting Y/N, I haven't taken any, but. . . I just need them to be there.”

“Spencer, please, throw them away. I’m trying to help you here.” Suddenly he grows very angry, and you can tell you said the wrong thing.

“Well I’m trying too. To me it seems the only one not trying is you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean, you still haven’t blocked Randall, he still calls all the time! Why do I have to throw my addiction away if you can’t even do the same to yours?”

“That's not fair.”

“How so?” he yells. “How is it that you can’t block your abusive, no good piece of shit boyfriend but I have to throw away the things I enjoy? That doesn’t feel like trying to me.”

“I’m not addicted to Randall Spencer, I just love him. I don’t want or need to quit him.”

“Oh really? Then why are you even still here? Why haven’t you answered his calls? Or gone to see him? I think you know exactly why.”

And you do. You don’t want to go back there, but what Randall says is true. He is the only one who will love you, and you’re not ready to lose that yet. You’re not ready to cut off all contact with him.

“I can leave if that’s what you want Spencer.”

His face softened, “no, that’s not what I want. That’s the last thing I want.” He stops and thinks for a moment. “If you block Randall I’ll throw away my dilaudid.”

You ponder it, “Okay.”

He breaks into a wide smile. “Really? You’ll do it?”

You smile at him.

“Yeah, I promise. I’ll block Randall.”

6:56 PM, May 30th, 2007.

You did not block Randall.

Even after watching Spencer pour out his bottles, breaking up the glass and tossing it away for a second time, you couldn’t. Even after seeing him snap his syringes in half, and feeling him kiss your forehead, after seeing how happy and excited he was for your fresh start together, you just couldn’t do it.

Spencer thought you did, and it was easy to hide the truth from him. Randall hadn’t called since then, so you and Spencer continue to spend time together, last week you celebrated one month of sobriety. You got an ice cream cake and little, silly party hats and exchanged gifts.

And it made you feel like shit.

Spencer was so happy, so proud that you had both been clean for a month, but you still couldn’t decide if you wanted to be clean at all.

You still can’t decide if you should block Randall’s number.

You try not to think about it, instead focusing the energy into making you and Spencer virgin pina coladas, he was currently out picking up burgers from your favorite restaurant. When he returns, you were going to watch one of your crappy reality TV reruns, and then an episode of Doctor Who. It was Spencer’s idea a couple days ago, and quickly it became a regular occurrence.

Faintly over the loud whir of the blender you can hear your phone ringing. You run quickly to go grab it, just in case Spencer needed your help with something, but your heart drops when you see the caller ID. It’s Randall, trying once again to contact you.

Your thumb hovers over the accept button, but before you can make a decision, the call times out and sends Randall to voicemail. You let out a breath and set your phone down.

But then something possesses you, and you snatch your phone and dial Randall’s number. He picks up on the 3rd ring.

“Baby, oh my god baby is that really you?”

He sounds so excited to hear from you, how could you have stayed mad at him for so long?

“Yes baby, it’s me. I’m sorry I haven’t answered your calls at all. I’ve been busy.”

“Don’t worry sweetness, I’m so so sorry for the things I said to you, I need you to come home. You missed our anniversary you know? But it’s okay! We can celebrate now! I got you a really beautiful gift, one we can definitely experiment with tonight.” You could hear his smirk over the phone.

“I’m not sure if I’m ready to come back right now, maybe later baby, but not right now.”

You hear his breathing pick up, and tense. You can tell he’s getting agitated. He wasn’t expecting you to answer like that, you always come home as soon as he tells you you can come back. “What do you mean? You’re being ridiculous, I want to see my girlfriend. I’m sure you want to get off of the streets too, you’ve been squatting for over a month now.”

“I’m not squatting Randall, I’m living with Spencer.”

“What!?” he yells. “I thought I told you not to stay with him. I hate that guy, you know that.”

“Would you rather me be on the streets Randall? Spencer’s a great guy, and I want to stay here.”

“Frankly, yes I would. But don’t worry, you can still come home. Just send me the prick’s address and I’ll come pick you up. We can enjoy tonight together.”

“No.”

“No?”

“I’m not going to send you Spencer’s address. I’m staying here. I don’t want to see you anymore. Leave me alone Randall. I’m done.”

Before he could say anything, you hung up. As you did so you heard the front door open, and Spencer made his way to the bedroom.

“Hey! I got burgers! Ready to eat?” he looks down to see your phone still resting in your hand, stuck on the phone app. “Who were you talking to?”

“Just an old friend,” you say.

“Think you’ll be talking to them again anytime soon?” you can tell he knows, and you’re surprised he isn’t lashing out at you. You’re so used to how Randall reacts when you go against his wishes, Spencer’s calm, understanding presence is like a breath of fresh air.

“No, I think I’m ready to leave them behind,” you smile at each other. “I’ll meet you in the kitchen in a sec okay?”

He nods, and goes to set up the food and TV.

It takes you seven seconds to block Randall.

1:12 AM, June 10th, 2007.

You haven’t gone out with your coworkers in months, you forgot how good it feels to just be present with people. You didn’t even drink tonight, wanting to remember every second of this time out with friends. You were beaming when you unlocked the front door.

Yet your smile slips when you enter what had become you and Spencer’s shared bedroom.

He isn’t there.

You pull out your phone to call him when you hear a thud coming from the bathroom door. You hesitate, scared of what you know you’ll likely find. When you finally throw the door open you’re already teary eyed, and these sobs escalate as soon as you see Spencer, tipped over, lying on the bathroom floor, the needle still sticking out of his arm.

You’re sobbing as you rip it out, hastily undoing the belt wrapped around his upper forearm. He looks up, even in his groggy haze you can see the guilty look in his eyes when they made contact with yours.

“Y/N. . . I- I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me but I just couldn’t stop myself . . . I-”

“Shhh, It’s okay, just breathe,” you whisper through your tears. “It’s going to be okay Spencer, I’m here, and it’s going to be okay. I’m staying right here.” You pull his head into your lap, stroking your shaking hands through his hair.

His head begins to shake, and you can feel his tears on your dress. You rest your head on his, and for a few seconds you just sit there, crying together.

“You’re going to be okay Spencer.”

8:09 AM, June 11th, 2007.

Your head is buried in his chest, you need to be able to hear him breathe. You need to hear his heart beating. You need to be as close to him as possible right now. He stirs as he wakes up, and wraps his arms around you.

“I’m so sorry Y/N.”

“Don’t apologize Spencer, this is a part of recovery okay? You’re still in recovery, just because you relapsed doesn’t mean we have to start over. You’re so much stronger than you were before. So much braver. So much better. You can do this.”

He smiles at you, “thank you, thank you so much.”

“Of course, now withdrawal is going to be even harder this time. I’m going to the store. We’re going to need plenty of Gatorade and water. We have to flush everything out of your system. Do you mind if I take your car to the store?”

He beams, even in his groggy state he manages to look so perfect, “You know my car is always yours to use Y/N.”

“I’ll be back soon okay? Don’t move a muscle,” you grab his keys and head out the door. And you really do mean it, you fully intend this to be the shortest grocery trip of your life. You’re terrified of leaving Spencer alone long enough to get high again, even though you spent all day yesterday searching for drugs and throwing anything you found in the garbage, taking it out the main apartment dumpster that night.

You get to the store, grab everything you need, 3 packs of blue Gatorade, 6 cases of water bottles, and the store’s entire stock of Jell-O and rush back to Spencer’s car. You were only in the store for 17 minutes, the majority of which was just check-out time. You smile, thinking of how excited Spencer will be when he sees all the Jell-O in the fridge, but feel your stomach drop when you see a familiar face examining Spencer’s car.

Randall.

Before you can decide what to do, he turns and sees you.

“Y/N! I was expecting Spencer, but this is even sweeter. I knew I recognized this hunk of junk. Where have you been?”

“I’ve been around, I’m kind of on a tight schedule here. I really need to get going,” you say as you load up your groceries into Spencer’s trunk.

“That’s a lot of Jell-O sweetheart, you hate Jell-O.” That’s not even true. You hate pudding, you love Jell-O.

As much as you wanted to yell at him for calling you sweetheart, you couldn’t deny that it felt good. You still missed him. Blocking him helped, but you still felt strong urges to call him sometimes. “It’s not for me, it’s for Spencer.”

“I thought I told you not to stay with him anymore.”

“What part of that conversation would make you think I would listen to you?” you say.

“You should always listen to me Y/N, I’m your boyfriend.”

“I haven’t seen you in months, we’re not dating anymore. I’m done.”

“You don’t mean that you’re just being irrational. Are you on your period? I bet that’s it. Come get breakfast with me. You probably just need chocolate, and the place down the block has incredible chocolate waffles.”

You open your mouth to reject him, but you can’t. Part of it is because you know if you do then he’ll follow you back to your apartment and the last thing you want is for him to know where you’re living right now. But the other part is much worse. A big part of you wants to let him try again. You can’t explain why, but you really want for him to redeem himself as your first love.

“Ok, you have 20 minutes, let’s go get breakfast.”

The walk there is silent and awkward. Randall grabs your hand, too tight for you to do anything about it, and keeps this grip until you sit down in your booth.

You don’t get chocolate waffles. You really don’t even like chocolate all that much. Randall knows that, or at least you thought he did. Instead you get cinnamon french toast, and within minutes it’s at the table.

“You know baby, Spencer doesn’t love you.” He says halfway through your french toast.

“We aren’t dating Randall.”

“Doesn’t matter, you’ve been with him in that apartment for a while now. I’m surprised he hasn’t given you the boot.”

You sit in silence, Randall takes this as a sign to continue. “We’ve been together for five years, sweetness. No one can love you the way I do. That’s just a fact. Spencer fucking Reid can not replace me, no one can replace me.”

“I hate that you’re right. I hate that I can’t breathe when I’m not with you Randall. I hate that you’re stuck to me. You’re this god awful stain on my life. I hate looking at it but no matter what I do I can’t wash it off.”

He smirks. “You’re not gonna get rid of me Y/N.” He pays the check, and gets up from the table. You go to get up too, but notice he didn’t tip your waitress, so you leave another five bucks on the table.

When you get outside he grasps your shoulders. “I knew you would come around Y/N, I knew you would get it. Now come on, we can go collect your stuff from that prick’s apartment and get you home. I know exactly how you can make it up to me.”

You pause, “I don’t think so Randall. I’m not ready quite yet, but I promise I’ll call you.” You meant it, you had already unblocked him from your phone.

“Oh absolutely not, you’re going home with me now.”

“No I’m not.” As you were yelling at each other you notice a strangely familiar face standing nearby, just in ear shot. You can’t place him, but you know you’ve met before.

“Yes you are! We’re happy together and you’re coming to live with me again!”

“We don’t love each other, Randall! Not right now at least!”

He’s livid, and once again you feel that scared, indescribable feeling in the pit of your stomach. “That’s not true! I’ll prove it to you.” He grabs your chin and pulls your face to his.

You feel as if water is filling your lungs, you’re drowning and no one is around to save you. Randall is physically stronger than you, you’re stuck in his grasp. It’s like you’re screaming and no one can hear you.

And yet, this flood of emotions you’re feeling is the first time you realize something.

You’re addicted to Randall.

You need to get out.

You need to get back to Spencer.

After what feels like minutes (but is actually about 3 seconds) of being unseen and vulnerable, you discover you’ve been protected the whole time. The man you can't place rips Randall off of you, “What’s wrong with you? Get off of her!”

It’s his voice that lets you place him. Derek Morgan, Spencer’s closest friend and coworker, punches Randall in the face. “Get out of here!”

“What the fuck is wrong with YOU? That’s my girlfriend! Sweetheart, tell him to leave us alone!”

They both turn and look at you, with tears in your eyes you look at Morgan and shake your head. “Please, get him to leave.”

And Morgan does just that, with a little yelling and a flash of his FBI badge, Randall is running for the hills.

“Come on baby girl, let’s get you back home. Did you walk here?”

You shake your head, “No, I drove Spencer’s car here.”

“Well, how bout I drive you home, and then afterwards I swing back and get Spencer’s car and drop it off?”

So you do just that. After profusely thanking Morgan, and him insisting that it was nothing, and also insisting to carry your groceries in from the car, you and Spencer are together once again.

“I’m so sorry Spencer, I didn’t believe you before. I was going to go back to him. How could I be so stupid?”

“Don’t talk like that Y/N, you said it best yourself. Just because you relapse doesn’t mean you aren’t trying, and it most certainly doesn’t mean you’re stupid.”

“I think it’s time we get clean Spencer. Both of us, once and for all.”

“I think so too Y/N.”

He pulls you into a hug and in between sniffles you manage to choke out what you’ve been wanting to say since you got into Morgan’s car. “I love you.”

He looks at you, and the look in his eyes almost makes you cry out of pure joy. He looks so happy, as if he’s been waiting for you to say that for years.

Maybe he has.

“I love you too.”

7:29 AM, April 16th, 2008.

You press your lips to Spencer’s, you know he has just woken up, but you know it’s a big day for him.

You both have been sober for over ten months now. Today is the day of his first group meeting. He found Beltway Clean Cops recently, and has been so excited to go. You’re excited for him. You know how proud he is of you, and you want to show him in every way possible that you’re proud of him.

He opens his eyes and smiles up at you. “What did I deserve to get a wake up like that?”

“What kind of question is that? You’re incredible, and an incredible boyfriend deserves an incredible morning. Do you know what else he deserves?”

He hums and waits for the answer.

“An incredible breakfast! That’s why I made blueberry pancakes. Now hurry up and come eat. You should leave soon if you want to make it to your meeting on time. Have I told you yet how incredibly proud I am of you?”

He smiles, “Only an average of 15.6 times a day since I told you I was going.”

“Well that’s not nearly enough, now come on, get up. It’s pancake time,” you say. “Oh, and Spencer?”

“Yes flower?”

“I’m so proud of you.”

He smiles, “I love you flower.”

“I love you more.”

You ate breakfast together and then forced Spencer out the door, making sure he had plenty of time to get to his meeting. You knew he would regret it if he was late.

You weren’t going to lie to yourself, you still thought about Randall a lot. You still missed him. You still love him in a way. But now that you had Spencer, now that you were clean together, you would never risk going back to him.

That day where you agreed to go to breakfast with him, Derek asked you if you wanted to press charges. You didn’t, you don’t regret that either.

You’re even more proud of yourself this way, because you know he’s still there, still accessible and available to you, and still didn’t run to him. You know that any trace of Randall in your future is gone.

You know you and Spencer are finally clean.

“Ten months sober, I must admit Just because you're clean don't mean you don't miss it Ten months older I won't give in Now that I'm clean I'm never gonna risk it”

- Thank you for reading! Please reblog and let me know what you think :))

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