#this came to me in an early morning over caffeinated daze

[puppybot]

yuri

[imagining-in-the-margins]

The Birds & The Bees (S.R. | Pt. 4)

Summary: Reader has a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day, which her Professor is hellbent on making a little bit better. A/N: If y’all thought you hated Kyle (bathroom bitch boy), just wait until you meet the new antagonist (of the female variety) here... I hope you all enjoy! 😚 Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Slow Burn (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Sexual themes/fantasies Word Count: 6.3k

MASTERLIST | Series Masterlist

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Einstein once attributed his genius to his childlike sense of humor. Studies performed since then have largely proven his point — funny people tend to have higher IQs, which makes sense when you consider the cognitive and emotional intelligence required to produce humor.

Spencer Reid was no exception. The only problem was that his humor was so remarkably niche and impossibly specific that barely anyone could understand the punchline. He insisted to me that he’d gotten better over the years, which I only barely believed… until he told me a joke that hadn’t left my mind since. A joke that he described as ‘just crude enough to make it palatable to the layman.’

"Caffeine and Viagra are both phosphodiesterase inhibitors,” he’d said — a slow start if there had ever been such a thing. But I held on to hope, hanging on the ecstatic, guileless smile he wore. And boy, was I glad I did, because what he’d said next broke me into a frankly embarrassing fit of giggles that returned with the memory every time.

“Which explains why both of these drugs keep you up all night."

The poor barista stuck working the busy early morning shift eyed me like I’d grown two heads when I once again devolved into laughter for no apparent reason. I almost felt embarrassed about it, but then I reassured myself that if she’d heard Dr. Spencer Reid tell a drug-induced-boner joke, she would also laugh about it forever.

I’d been thinking about him a lot lately. Not in a perverse way, either, despite his increasing comfort in breaching such topics in my presence. It was more like I’d started to infuse him into my every day, finding him in whatever way my brain would allow. While I made my way to his office, I breathed in the soothing scent drifting from the cups that were precariously perched in flimsy cardboard.

The smell took me back to quiet moments in his office. The kind of simple serenity that accompanied silence between two people who need not speak to share ideas. Where the second you looked away, you felt their eyes follow you, like the universe couldn’t maintain its structural integrity without one of you looking at the other.

It was intoxicating and alluring; so easy to lose myself in. Something I knew was dangerous for a number of reasons.

For example, when I am not paying the utmost attention to my surroundings, I have a tendency to lose track of where I am and what I’m doing. I also tend to… drop things. Especially hot and otherwise dangerous things.

Things like the two cups of coffee that finally became too much for shallow, defective cardboard.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I screeched as I became acutely aware of every place where scorching hot, drenched clothing hung on angry skin. Normally, I would at least try to sound more dignified while on my way to work, but it hardly seemed like it mattered anymore.

I was too busy hurriedly tearing at my shirt and dropping everything else I was holding. I’d gotten three whole buttons on my shirt popped by the time I remembered it wasn’t technically necessary. I dropped my bag immediately at the thought, tugging on the hem of the shirt and trying to bring it over my head.

Unfortunately, I still hadn’t regained my grace, and in the muddled mess of fabric, I’d also grabbed hold of my undershirt. Which meant that whoever was walking through the empty halls of the early morning in academia would find me, with my stomach exposed and clothing dripping while unintelligible curses flowed freely from my lips.

I expected most people would probably just turn around and leave. I probably would’ve. The giant splatter of coffee and the absolute idiot slipping in it were beyond saving.

But there was at least one person who saw the mess and stayed.

I smelled his cologne before I felt his hand was pressed over the bare skin of my lower back. Despite the fact my skin was burning, it welcomed the warmth of his touch. My body stopped at his command, waiting for him to break me free of the paradoxically frozen state I was in.

He pulled the shirt back down, just enough that I could see him when he wrapped his cardigan around my shoulders and started guiding me into his office, which I’d somehow managed to almost walk straight past in my daze. I wished that I could go back there, to the imaginary world where he hadn’t just seen me half disrobed and cursing while covered in the coffee that I’d meant to give to him.

Spencer’s hands left me once the door was shut, probably trusting, or at least hoping, that I could figure out the mess on my own. Oddly enough, I didn’t notice any signs of him staring at me. Like he only felt comfortable looking when I was clothed.

I tried not to think about it. Once I did manage to free myself of one of the shirts — without further flashing my boss — the anxiety brewing inside of me burst out in the form of frantic shouting.

“Hi Professor! I’m so sorry, I spilled the coffee!”

“Yeah, I... saw the puddle,” he mumbled, throwing a cursory glance back at the hallway before his eyes met mine with a terrifying level of compassion, “Are you alright?”

“Besides the boiling liquid on my skin and the horrid embarrassment? I guess,” I mumbled back before shouting, “Shit! This is why that woman sued McDonald’s! Why do stores serve coffee like that?!”

Spencer didn’t really say anything. In fact, he kind of just stood as frozen as I had been, staring at everything around me rather than meeting my eyes again. But while he seemed somewhat cool and composed, I continued to tug at my clothes to try and avoid the friction. It was then that he cleared his throat, covering his face just like he’d done when he saw me in an arguably more provocative position the week before.

Arguably, I said. I should have known that Spencer would win any argument. I should have considered why he was making such a point of not looking at me while I clawed at the white undershirt turned beige. But I didn’t. Not until I looked down to inspect the state of my skin.

I realized then that Spencer had been trying to figure out a way to inform me that not only had the coffee turned my shirt a different shade — it had also eliminated the opacity.

He could see my bra. Spencer Reid, my boss, was trying not to stare at my very clearly visible bra.

“God, this is the worst Monday of all Mondays!” I whined between half-sobs, “and Mondays are already bad, Professor!”

There must have been something else in that cry, too. Something akin to permission. Enough for him to step closer, managing to avoid looking at my chest in the process. I’d entirely forgotten that he’d wrapped me in his cardigan until he pulled it tighter around my shoulders like his own version of an embrace.

“That they are, Bunny.”

If my skin had been heated before, it turned to flames at the use of the nickname. It was honestly a pure work of magic that the liquid on me didn’t turn vaporize the second I’d heard the word.

Bunny?

I pushed the thought away as quick as humanly possible, focusing instead on the way my clothes were going from uncomfortably hot to frigid as a result of the usually refreshing air conditioning. But when I was once again reminded of the obvious undergarment, I sighed.

“I can probably ask a friend to bring me a replacement shirt, or just go to class like this,” I thought aloud, “No one really looks at me, anyway...”

Spencer’s response came immediately, his hands flying up in protest as he shouted, “No!”

I wasn’t quite sure how to reply to that, or even which part of the statement he was objecting to, so he was met with a wide-eyed, slow blinking stare.

“I-I mean, I have a shirt you can borrow. I don’t want to subject you to any further embarrassment,” he explained at a significantly more appropriate volume, “You can just wear my extra shirt.”

He turned away from me before I could respond, shuffling through something hidden beneath his desk that created more questions than answers for me.

“Why do you have an extra shirt?”

“Go bag,” he said in the most nondescript manner. It wasn’t necessarily abnormal, either. The question I’d asked didn’t spark any concerns in his mind, but it also wasn’t the question that I felt needed to be asked.

What I really wanted to say was caught in my throat. My hands clamped together in front of me tighter than my jaw that resisted opening to make way for the thoughts that felt more scandalous than they should’ve been.  

“U-Um, Professor don’t you think—“

“Here you go,” he offered with a smile. I took the large, plain black shirt with a hefty dose of caution, my hands shaking along with my broken voice that still couldn’t finish the sentence from before.

Spencer finally noticed the struggle on my face, and I watched his body move from comfortable to defensive in a matter of seconds. Like he was worried he’d done something wrong in trying to be kind.

He hadn’t, but I felt like I had.

“Won’t people... you know?” I mumbled, motioning a hand between the two of us, “I’m showing up to your class at 8AM wearing your clothes…”

I thought that the words alone would be enough. I thought that the gesture was overkill. But Spencer was still staring at me with his head cocked to the side and his eyes narrowed in thought.

I was going to have to say it.

Won’t they think we’re having sex?

There was no way I was going to be able to say it.

“Aren’t you concerned about people getting… the wrong idea?” I blurted out, instead.

The confusion on his face shifted to a clever little self-assured smirk so fast that I almost missed the transition. My stomach flipped from the sight, but then he spoke again, and what had felt like it was filled with butterflies turned to rocks.

“I’d much rather them gossip about something that’s not happening than watch the young boys ogle you instead of paying attention.”

It wasn’t the words, but the way that he’d said them. Like they were silly, like the idea of us being together was so preposterous it could only be entertained by people he perceived to be children.

I was foolish, too.

“Don’t worry about them,” he said with a wave, “Just worry about making this Monday a little bit better.”

“O-okay. Thanks,” I whispered, turning and running from the room only to be reminded of the mess I’d made. But the pool of tawny liquid on the floor wasn’t the most disastrous thing anymore. That honor was reserved for the state of my heart, begrudgingly continuing to beat despite being broken.

Scooping up my bag that I’d abandoned before, I tried to allow myself to be happy about the little things. For instance, the fact that the shirt Spencer had handed me was probably the softest thing I’d ever felt in my life. It made sense, considering the sensory issues he always described.

Still, I waited until I was in the safety of a bathroom stall before I buried my face in the fabric. It smelled just like him, a mixture of freshly done laundry and vanilla. Much better than the cheap, burnt coffee that covered me. Funny enough, that sort of smelled like him, too.

By the time I slipped into his clothes, I had almost forgotten his joke entirely. I was too lost in the joy of sweater paws from his cardigan and fabric that felt like a hug. Or at least, what I’d imagined a hug from him would be like.

The energy it provided me was a better pick-me-up than any cup of coffee had ever been. I kept my squealing as quietly as I could, bouncing in place just like the nickname he’d chosen to let stick. But before I returned to him, I felt something. A small, noticeable weight in one of the cardigan pockets.

If I’d thought about it for longer than five seconds, if I’d reminded myself that they were his clothes and not mine, I would’ve let it be. I wouldn’t have pulled the little object from its safe hiding spot. It would have stayed locked away, leaving me none the wiser of its presence.

But I didn’t think about it, and then there I was, holding onto the sobriety token I should’ve seen coming.

Not that it was a bad thing; I already knew Spencer had a history with drugs. He’d mentioned it in passing in class and was deeply involved with a number of volunteer programs around the area. At one point, I’d even taken it upon myself to research his history.

That research, while I regretted it now, feeling that it violated his privacy some way or another, led me to a second conclusion. As my thumb ghosted over the embossed number five, I realized that Spencer had been sober since he was released from prison.

My heart swelled with pride and relief that felt shameful. I didn’t want the token to have such a profound effect on the image of him I’d already crafted in my mind. Lord knew I didn’t need any more reasons to idolize him. And, at the end of the day, I’d only discovered this information by happenstance.

Part of respect, I decided, meant ignoring the way that fate seemed to push us together. If Spencer ever wanted my opinion on his sobriety or strength, surely, he would just ask. So, I slipped the chip back into the pocket and made my way back to him without worry for what it meant.

While I had no worries, Spencer was another story. I’d barely even made it through the door when he saw me. All of the papers he’d been holding immediately fell from his hands the same way the coffee had fallen from mine.

“Oh no! My clumsiness was contagious!” I laughed, bolting over to help him only to find his face an unhealthy shade of red. He chuckled back but said nothing else as he scrambled to pick up the loose-leaf that had splayed itself all over the floor.

Once we were back on our feet and as collected as we could be considering the circumstances of the morning thus far, his eyes met mine again. His cheeks were still flushed, unable to focus on anything specific and choosing to traverse my body the same way his hands had on Halloween.

“Sorry,” he mumbled in a way that made me wonder if he knew I could hear him, “I was distracted by how unfair it is that you look better in my clothes than I do.”

It was my turn to be flustered, but Spencer didn’t let the moment drag on. He tore himself away from me in every sense of the word, marching past me and halfway exiting the room before he found the courage to look at me again.

“Are you ready to head to class?” he asked as if it were an option.

I suppose to him, it was. For a second I imagined what the future would hold for us if I’d said no. What would he have done if I begged him to stay with me, instead? What if we rebelled against expectation and remained locked away in his office until we grew tired of one another? What if we never did?

My mind filled with fantasies of Spencer’s hands freely feeling my skin the way his clothes could. I could hear soft, breathy sounds of desire shaped like my name. For all of my inexperience, he would still find me intoxicating. He would grow drunk on me the same way a child finds endless joy in sweets that really ought to make them sick.

Then again, maybe he had grown used to the sugar. Maybe he wanted something more mature, a bitterness like molasses that was only earned from years I hadn’t had yet.

Regardless, I couldn’t really get into any of that. Instead, I just flashed a very awkward thumbs up to the man fifteen years my elder when I droned, “Sure am, Professor man.”

As stupid as it felt to do something so juvenile, the smile he gave was worth it.

“Alright then, Bunny,” he answered with his own little peace sign, “Let’s hop along.”

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It hadn’t even been a week since I saw her, scantily clad in the plush, socially acceptable equivalent of lingerie. It’d been even less time since I admitted my own weakness to her. I’d replayed the memories of her visceral responses to my touch enough times that I should be sick of it. But there was no tiring of her.

I considered deleting the photos she’d sent me, convinced that it was cruel to keep them when she’d only sent them while inebriated and undoubtedly exhausted beyond belief.

But when I woke up in the morning, my stomach still reeling from the knowledge of what I’d done, all that she’d sent was a curious collection of emotes and a very brief note.

“Oops!” she’d written, “Bad bunny?”

I put that phrase out of my mind immediately, unable to handle the way it incited the desire for destruction in my veins.

“I’m always glad to hear that you are safe.”

That was the end of the conversation, and I was grateful for that much. Even the few words we’d exchanged would haunt me until I saw her again. Of course, the torture ended there, but only for a few seconds before it was replaced with other images and words.

It’d been hours since I’d found her flailing about half-naked in the hall while uttering rushed curses that sounded too crude for her lips. It’d been hours since I felt the soft skin of her lower back and became lost in an entirely different set of fantasies.

It’d been even less time since I saw her standing at my door, pulling on the sleeves of my sweater and staring at me with nervous, shifty glances. Completely unaware of just how beautiful she was in her simplicity. How much more torturous it was to see her wearing my clothes than any lustful suffering that lingerie or nudity could elicit.

I thought that it would get better throughout the day, but it didn’t. It only got worse.

I’d stepped out of my office for barely half an hour, but I returned to find her curled up on the plush chair. Her shoes were slipped off, revealing colorful socks that clashed with every other neutral color she wore. It somehow made me want her even more.

I stayed stuck for a few seconds longer, watching her with bated breath and shameless admiration. She was so caught up in the papers on her lap that she didn’t even notice my presence until the door clicked shut. It was then that she turned to see me, allowing a smile to blossom across her face despite eyes narrowed with suspicion.

“What’s all of this?” she asked, gesturing to the collection of bags hanging from my wrists.  

“Did you know…” I started before my heart stopped at how she always leaned forward with excitement whenever I started a sentence that way, “that food is one of the best ways to solve a terrible Monday?”

“Which scientific study did you get that from?”

I paused again, debating telling her the many studies that would support such a theory, but then decided against it. Instead, I sought out her laughter and childlike joy that always brought out the best of her.

“Garfield,” I answered.

Sure enough, the office filled with the melodious sound of her happiness. I moved as quietly as I could, thinking back to when I was younger and thought of how powerful bottled laughter would be if I could capture it. Hers would surely right so many wrongs.

“You don’t have to take it if you don’t want to, but I figure it’s the least I could do.”

She approached me to assist before I’d even made it to my desk, and although I thought her hands were far too soft to be bothered with something like this, I allowed her to help.

“You could do nothing, you know. It was my own fault.”

“Yeah, but I wanted to.”

She laughed again, shier and shrinking into the sweater as she tried to find her place in such a domestic activity as sharing a meal with me in private. I thought of how it was a taste of my dreams.

Because as often as I did fantasize about her, undone, bare-skinned, and defenseless to my desires, I just as often envisioned her just like this. In fact, I found those fantasies more dangerous. They couldn’t be written off as mere lust. They were another, scarier thing.

“Well, lucky you I am an exhausted, broke grad student, so free food will always win me over,” she muttered, half-sarcastically but just sad enough to bother me.  

“Duly noted,” I said.

I hid away the promises I wanted to make. That if she were mine, she would want for nothing. That I would give her everything she needed to bloom. That I would prune away any neighboring flower that dared get in her way or block the sunlight. There would be no need to worry of predators or pollinators intruding, because she would belong to me and only me.

I would be her earth, her rain, and her sun. I would be surely and shamelessly selfish.

Her shoulders rose with a cheeky, excited little giggle once she had collected her food. I wanted nothing more than to let her enjoy it to her heart’s content… but there was a problem.

“Nuh-uh, no way,” I chuckled before she had a chance to return to the chair with her precarious paper plate, “Get in the other chair.”

Her face scrunched up, bouncing back and forth between the two seats in the room like she’d heard something so strange that it must have been a mistake.

“Wh— your chair?”

“I will not have you ruining another shirt today,” I explained. It caused the confusion to quickly shift to an embarrassed frustration within seconds. Just as she opened her mouth to protest my teasing, I continued with something I knew would tie her tongue until she could no longer argue.

“If you’re so worried about what they’ll say when you show up in my shirt, just think of how they’ll talk if they catch you wearing nothing.”

That stubborn little thing still tried. Her mouth floundered, strange sounds of protest starting but never finishing until she gave up. She sulked over to the seat with an odd amount of self-satisfaction. She settled into my space as comfortably as she always did. With an ease that was almost unsettling to my tired, tortured heart.

Swapping places with her for that little bit of time was a good idea. I hadn’t expected that it would bring me as much serenity as it did. My usually busy lips kept their focus on the food, opting to listen to her ramble about any and everything that came to mind.

It wasn’t until she was fifteen minutes into an explanation on her paper that I realized how little I’d tried to learn about her life outside of me. Whether it was self-preservation or narcissism, I’d never decided. But what I was certain of was that it had been a brutal form of self-sabotage.

Because as I sat there, watching her clumsily, excitedly swinging her fork and proving my point that it had been a good decision to give her the desk, I saw her for in a different light than before.

She was not just a beautiful, mysterious flower peeking through the concrete. She was the trembling giant, the clonal colony of thousands of quaking aspen trees. An extravagant network of roots that flowed far beyond the seed that started them.

This sprout might be new, but her soul was ancient and celestial, wise and immortal.

“Who knows?” she sighed, coming to a natural conclusion of a story I had almost missed while lost in daydreams and metaphors, “Maybe one day I’ll be a professor, too.”

“You’d be good at it.”

For once, it felt like she accepted the compliment without a fight. I considered it progress all the way up until she shot back a thinly veiled taunt.

“Thanks. Means a lot from someone who has 4 stars on rate my professor!”

“Don’t forget the chili pepper,” I jokingly returned.

“Not sure I’d get one of those.”

I knew that my disagreement wouldn’t amount to much in the grand scheme of things, so I opted for a slightly-self-centered flattery instead.

“Just show up in that outfit,” I said with a nod that barely hid my actual intention of focusing my eyes on the rest of her, “you’ll be golden.”

“You gonna let me borrow it in ten years?” she hummed.

It was a dangerous proposition, an implication that made the pitter-pattering in my chest unbearable. Rather than chasing her down the rabbit hole of fantasies, I just chuckled before I answered, “You know how to find me.”

Then it happened again. Her face slowly changed, growing from a cautious optimism to a yearning. A subtle hint of words left unsaid. And although she wet her lips and set down her fork, the words never came out. They stayed stalled in her throat, and there was no discernible way for me to drag them out of her without hurting the both of us.

When a loud knock resounded through the room, the thought ended altogether.

“Come in,” I grimly announced, recognizing the intrusive sound as the death rattle for whatever might have been said.

As the door opened, I realized the same time (y/n) did that we had forgotten that the rest of the outside world wasn’t familiar with our dynamic. They didn’t have the backstory of how she’d perched herself on my chair with her shoes off and wearing my clothes.

Torn between scrambling to take more socially acceptable positions and the knowledge that our hurry would make us look even more suspicious, we both opted to remain frozen in place like deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming train.

When the door opened, however, I was somewhat relieved to see someone I found completely unthreatening. My closest colleague, a woman that should really terrify me all things considered, seemed mostly perplexed when she found a young girl in my seat.

She quickly turned to me, drawing out her words as she asked, “Oh. I’m sorry, am I... interrupting something?”

“No, what can I help you with, Candy?”

“I was hoping we could talk about my current paper proposal.”

She paused, and I took the moment to follow her glower to the flower still stationary behind my desk. (Y/n) stared back, seemingly frightened by the presence of the other Professor.  

“If you’re busy with... office hours…” Candy muttered before turning back to me, “we can always set up a meeting for a better time.”

Before I could address the possible tension or implication, the girl at my desk sprung to action, clearing off any sign of her presence as she spoke.

“You know, I actually need to get going.”

“Are you sure?”

She didn’t look at me when she answered, “Yeah, I’m sure your papers are more important.”

If I’d turned back to Candy, I might have seen the condescending scowl that was driving her away. If I’ve had any inclination or desire to look at Candy, I would have realized that (y/n) wasn’t trying to escape from her connection to me. She was just trying to get out of my way.

It didn’t make it any harder to watch her leave. I took solace in the fact that she held tighter to my cardigan, trusting me to keep her warm by proxy as she ventured back into the real world. The world where we couldn’t be in peace.

“Thanks for the advice, Professor,” she said before she left, “You were right. As usual.”

One last smile was shared, somber but sobering. A necessary break from the intimacy of the moment.

“See you in class.”

The office felt so much duller without her radiance, but my disappointment would have to wait. As much as I actually didn’t mind the world knowing how my heart hurt from her absence, I knew that it was best I didn’t let it impact her academic career.

“Sorry again for the intrusion,” my colleague said in a much happier voice.  

“It’s not a problem at all.”

She must have noticed the way it sounded like a lie, because her tone quickly shifted back to a slightly disgruntled confusion.

“I didn’t realize she was your student, too. What class is she in?”

It was juvenile, really, the way my heart fluttered so ridiculously at the mere mention of her existence. The excuse to discuss her again.

“Oh, did she not tell you?”

Candy just shook her head with a blatantly false smile.

“Unsurprisingly modest,” I laughed, making my way back over to my seat and running my fingers over the wooden armrests like it would be the same as touching her ghost, “She’s my TA.”

“Oh… I see.”

“She was the only one who would put up with me,” I offered with a chuckle. Self-deprecating humor was the only reliable personality trait I had. It was also, unfortunately, one that most women in my life despised and refused to let sit.

“I’m sure that’s not true.”

It sounded less sweet coming from her. I wrote it off as a product of the differences in their species. While the hummingbird of a girl who’d just flittered away was used to only drinking the sweetest, purest nectar, the bird of prey who’d entered relied on the work of others to gather the sweetness before they were devoured.

That wasn’t to say she was cruel; hawks are as much a miracle of nature as hummingbirds. I simply related to one more than the other. I understood one while the other remained a mystery. And I loved mysteries more than myself.

“So, you wanted to talk about your paper?”

“Oh! Yes,” she chirped, passing the packet over to me now that I’d found my way back to what she probably deemed my rightful place. “The conference is coming up so much faster than I anticipated, and I would love to hear your opinions on my first draft.”

I’d already started to read the first page when she spoke again, uncharacteristically bashful and anxious, “Since we’ll be presenting together, I figured...”

“Yeah, no problem at all,” I interrupted, not wanting her to dwell nor expand on the thought of us doing anything together any more than necessary, “I can send you mine.”

It felt curt, blunt, and off putting when I said it, but she didn’t take it as such.

“Wonderful. You have such a unique voice when you’re writing. It’s very refreshing.”

Immediately, a memory appeared at the forefront of my mind and led to a laugh that I couldn’t contain. Candy seemed pleased at the sound, and I felt the need to explain.

“Thanks. (Y/n) likened it to Ray Bradbury at one point, although in different and less flattering words.”

I could hear her clear as day, quoting my words with an overdramatized effect before laughing, ‘Pack it up, Bradbury, you’ve got more science stuff to explain.’

Of course, we both found her laughter-ridden explanation of the ‘meme’ far funnier than the original joke. She was probably the only person in the world who never seemed bothered by explaining everything to me ad nauseam.

“She is... certainly a choice as a TA,” Candy strained upon scrutinizing the smile that had returned to my face for the first time since (y/n)’s departure, “Will she be joining us at the conference?”

But then the guilt returned, wiping the smile from my face and replacing happy memories with deviant thoughts and fears.

“Oh... you know, I haven’t asked her.”

“That’s perfectly alright! I think we’ll do just fine without her.”

“Right...” I whispered, glancing back down at the stack of papers in my hand before setting it in the tray designated for (y/n). “I’ll have her look at your paper just in case.”

A lull in the conversation stretched past the point of comfort for both of us, and I glanced up at the woman I actually felt guilty for ignoring in place of fantasies that would probably never come to be. She hadn’t even done anything to warrant my disregard. She was an attractive woman — as beautiful as she was brilliant, really — she had worked very hard to garner my trust and academic collaboration. At one point, I had considered her one of the few potential candidates for something more than a purely academic partner.

But there was something about the way she looked at the honeyed girl that made my hair stand on end. A defensiveness and instinct that couldn’t be ignored.

“Is there anything else you need?”

“No, that was all,” she said as she broke from what I presumed to be her own daydream, “I hope your semester keeps going well.”

“Thanks, I hope yours does, too.”

I meant it, despite the aforementioned concern. I wished her well in the semester for both selfless and selfish reasons. I wished her well because she deserved it, certainly. But the other reason, the larger one, was that I hoped she would remain distracted. I hoped that she didn’t notice the way I would slip away from her affections to chase those from a more interesting challenge. One that remained mysterious, with hair covered in pollen and lips sweet with ambrosia.

“I’ll talk to you soon, Dr. Reid.”

I failed to respond to her again before the door shut because my hands were already busy with rekindling contact with another.

“I have a proposition for you, Bunny.”

“Sounds ominous. I’m in.”  

The fact that the response came before I could even shut off the display was so characteristic of her that I had to laugh.

“You haven’t even heard it yet,” I observed, to which she once again immediately responded, “Your point being?”

“I’m afraid this is an obligation that does require some expansion before agreement.”

Her response was slower, then, and I could almost see her with a slight panic and overwhelming curiosity that grew stronger by the second.

“Ominous and vaguely unsettling,” she said.  

I considered drawing it out further, letting her imagination truly run wild with the possibilities. But then I realized that if she thought hard enough about it, she might reach the same place that had immediately come to my mind.

“Would you like to attend the upcoming conference with me?” I relented, almost stopping there but then frantically tagging on the conditions I knew would be most likely to cause hesitation. “You’d have your own room, of course. The department and I will help with funds.”

But, as it turned out, I didn’t need to be worried.

“A cheap weekend away from school where I get to be a nerd with you?” she sent with another set of small, smiling faces I was only just starting to understand, “Of course I’m going to say yes, Professor!”

“Perfect. I’ll arrange it.”

“I can’t wait!”

Although I felt the same, I forced myself to end contact again. I put my phone out of reach to prevent myself from spoiling any more of my fantasies than I already had. I didn’t need her to second-guess the possibilities of a weekend away together now that she’d already agreed to it.

The thought alone sparked guilt anew. Through the entire interaction, I’d infused each word with a charge that shouldn’t have been. Each line was far more provocative than it needed to be.

It was just an academic conference. Most people found them terribly dull, not to mention physically exhausting. It would not be a time away like most couples dreamed of because we were not a couple in any sense of the word.

Yet… I couldn’t help but feel that perhaps there weren’t as many differences as one might think. Because while yes, most people would be bored, I didn’t think Bunny would be. Clandestine meetings made between conference meetings sounded exactly like the kind of dreams we would share.

I believed it so strongly that my mind had already drafted several narratives that would suit her. I pictured her and I sharing company in public, unafraid of public displays of affection — innocent, childish kinds, of course — because we were miles away from those who might care.

That drunken, lust-inducing, half-lidded gaze from the week before would return. Except this time, I would taste the wine on her tongue, my hands sliding not over fluffy fabric, but the same skin that I’d felt for the first time that morning.

Behind our door, I would teach her so many things. Things that she would have begged me for. Things that others would see written on her skin in the shape of my fingers and mouth. Things that she would carry with a straighter back and dripping down her legs.

I didn’t just want to destroy her. I wanted to break her so that I could build her back with gold-laced lacquer. She would be my kintsugi creation full of sugar and honey, just imperfect enough that the sticky residue of her sweetness would slip through the cracks to coat everything she touched.

And then she would touch me, and I might finally feel like I deserved anything at all.

——————————————————

| Part Five |

[trustmeifyoudare]

The Stranger

i know for a fact that i posted this a while ago but tumblr ate it or something so im posting it again

It was the night shift and barely anyone was inside the café. Luka absentmindedly played with a pen as he waited for his shift to end. He couldn’t wait to get home.

The door opened, snapping Luka out of his daze. A lone person walked in, all dressed up in a suit and tie at 2 am in the morning.

“One earl grey tea, please,” the customer said, yawning. A streak of dirt was on his face.

Luka silently made the drink. He handed it off to the stranger and they parted ways without saying a word.

…

Luka had seen stranger people during his night shifts, so the man from early soon left his mind. He had better things to think about anyway.

A month later, Luka was back on the night shift. He was left alone because his coworker bailed to go to some party on the other side of the city. That meant that Luka was going to be by himself for the next eight hours with nothing to do. Yeah!

Barely anyone came in, but right at 2 am the same guy from before walked in. He was still wearing a suit, almost he was about to go to a fancy ball but had to stop and get some tea.

“An earl grey,” the man said.

“Sorry, but we don’t have any more. Can I offer you a coffee instead?”

The stranger glared at Luka. “Coffee? Coffee? Are you trying to kill me? You dare suggest that I have that drink that thinks it is better than tea?”

“Chill out, Dude. It was just a question.”

The stranger grunted.

“Well, what can I get you?”

“Not coffee.”

Okay, time to get a hot chocolate for the grump, he thought.

He made the drink, putting just the tiniest drop of coffee in there just to spite him, and gave it to him. “Here’s your order.”

Maybe it was just the sleep withdrawal or the caffeine deprivation (he probably shouldn’t have made that bet with Lila) but Luka couldn’t stop staring at the strangers lips for a moment. He ripped his gaze away and turned around, blushing like a madman. What is wrong with me?

“That will be £1.52, I mean £3.52.” Luka silently cursed himself as he stumbled over his words. What was wrong with him today?

“Don’t even bother,” the stranger said. “You aren’t my type.”

Luka’s jaw dropped. “Excuse me?”

“You heard what I said. I don’t need people chasing after me.”

“I wasn’t thinking of ’chasing after you.’”

“Which is totally why you were staring at my butt.”

“I wasn’t- Whatever. It doesn’t matter.”

The stranger raised his eyebrow but didn’t push it. He sat down, had his hot chocolate (which haha had tea in it), and left the shop. Luka went to clear the table, but he found a number written on the receipt.

‘Okay I lied, you are my type.’ A number was written under it. ‘Ask for Felix.’

[soramei]

Intentional - Part 2

Pairing: Bang Chan x Reader (she/her)

Summary: Landing your first real job at JYPE was something short of a miracle. You were prepared to face the new struggles of this elusive career whilst moving to a new country, however, nothing could have prepared you for him. Will stolen glances, secret touches, and hushed nights spent in the recording room ever be enough for the both of you?

Genre: idol!bang chan au, forbidden relationship, coworkers to eventual lovers, slow burn

Warnings: none right now, eventual smut,

Word Count: 5.2k

Masterlist

A/N: o my god i did not expect so many people to have read the first part… even if only one person reads im still happy :D anyways heres the second part (i swear bang chan wont just be a side character later on hhahaha)

The insistent beeping of the alarm on your phone was what first woke you up from your dazed sleep. Your head still pounded from the night before, and frankly, you were ready to get fired for an extra five minutes of sleep. Tapping the ‘cancel’ button on your phone, you flipped over head down on your pillow to find the beautiful dreamland you were in. However, after just five more minutes, the triggering beeping of your backup alarm took you out of your slumber again, this time really waking you up. 

You trudge towards your bathroom, still dreading the day, on your way to take a shower. Thankfully, the steam from the warm shower combined with the fragrant smell of your conditioner slightly woke you up and dampened the aching in your head. 

Being drastically more awake than before, you made your way over to your kitchen to prepare breakfast. You opened the fridge, mind blank, just staring at the empty shelves. I seriously need to do some grocery shopping, you thought before grabbing an egg. 

You struggled to turn on the stove, not knowing which knob correlated to which burner. Turning a random one, you flinched when an excessive amount of fire appeared. However, after an embarrassingly long amount of time, you finally figured out the stove. Why are there still gas range stoves when electrical stoves exist? You wondered. 

You looked at the sad cooked egg in front of you. 

Was this really how you were going to live from now on? You cursed your whole family for spoiling you so much back home. Sure you were grateful for being able to live with your family for twenty three years, but the consequences of your mother making a fuss when you tried to cook for yourself was really showing now. 

You were about to dig into your lonely meal when your phone buzzed all of a sudden. Taking a quick peek at it, you saw Na-eun’s name flash up. You beamed with joy. Although you already worked up the nerve to be the first one to contact her, you were thankful she did first to break the tension. However, there was a small — microscopic even — part of you that wondered: what if that were Bang Chan?

You unlocked your phone. 

Na-eun: Hey! I know it’s kinda last minute, but do you wanna meet for breakfast?

Na-eun: There’s a café five minutes away from the building. 

Na-eun: ^-^

Smiling to yourself, you quickly typed a reply.

Y/n: Sure! My breakfast looks too sad to eat… 

Y/n: ^-^

In a flash, you stuffed your egg into a plastic tupperware container and put it in the empty fridge before booking it out your door, making sure to carefully enter the passcode to lock it before running to the staircase. You almost tripped over the stairs going down as you tried to sprint and text Na-eun at the same time. Checking the maps app on your phone, you told her how long it would take for you to arrive at the café. 

Na-eun: Do you mind if I bring my roommate? She keeps complaining about how boring it is at home haha.... 

Na-eun: She’s really nice though! ^^;

You happily agreed since you weren’t in the position to turn down another potential friend. Already two potential friends? You were so excited. 

There was a bounce in your steps as you made your way down to the subway. Scanning your card, you made your way to the big group of people on the platform and waited for your train. Taking the subway was so new, yet refreshing. There was something exciting about seeing a brand new set of people board the cart every stop, it was almost like refreshing your Instagram feed over and over again. 

After just a couple minutes more of waiting, your subway came. You naturally found your way in by shuffling along with the flock of people and found a good place to stand. 

You surveyed your cart. Some high school students, a few elderly, and many many businesspeople dressed in attire very similar to you. They all seemed to be busy on their cellular devices, so you quickly pulled yours out as well, eager to blend in. Your little Tamagotchi friend was happy to see you. 

The sound of the automated woman’s voice was what drew you out of your concentration, as she announced that the subway would be stopping at your destination next. When the subway stopped, the sea of people rushed out in a big tidal wave and you just went along with the flow. 

The map posted on a big pillar in the station was difficult to read at first, but after embarrassingly asking a station officer, you were confident you knew where you were going. The station was big with many interwoven hallways, each connecting to a different location. It had a couple shops and convenience stores located along the sides where students running late could buy some bread or tired businesspeople could inject their early morning dose of caffeine. 

You weaved your way through the long halls, confident that you could remember how you got out the right exit yesterday. Finally, after passing by many familiar stores and signs, you eventually made it above ground at the right exit. It was a cloudy September morning, the wind flew past you at just the right speed to elicit a slight shiver. You curse yourself for not bringing a jacket in your rush to the café. The streets were busy with cars zooming by, but it was nowhere near as congested as the subway traffic.

You started following your phone’s GPS to the marked location, and after a couple minutes, you spot the café. You immediately recognized it as a chain café as you’ve seen a few more of these scattered around the city as you got around. This one, however, appeared to be larger than the others (presumably because it was near so many big name companies) as it had three floors in total. 

You texted Na-eun, telling her you’ve arrived. She let you know that they were both in one of the booths on the second floor, so you decided to order before heading up. Walking over to the cashier, you scanned their massive menu, trying to find what you were looking for.

“One mango juice, please.” You politely ordered. “And also a slice of the red velvet cake.”  

After you had paid, you waited patiently, hands folded in front of you for your food. Because it wasn’t busy in the morning, it wasn’t that long until one of the baristas handed your food to you on a tiny plastic tray and you started making your way up. You reached the top floor and scanned your eyes around the room to find a familiar face. 

“Y/n!” Na-eun waved.

You waved back and made your way over. She was in the booth, and there was another girl sitting beside her. 

“Y/n, this is my roommate Yoojin.” She smiled at you and made a gesture towards the smaller girl sitting beside her. She was a fluffy haired girl. Her appearance was puppy-like, with her wide eyes and a large smile that was almost too big for her face. 

“Hi Yoojin.” You said as you sat down. 

“Hi Y/n! Na-eun told me about you yesterday. It seems like you have similar jobs.” She looked back at you with wide eyes. “But I think you got luckier because you actually get to interact with the idols.” 

“I think both of us are lucky to even be working there,” you chuckled, “plus, I don’t actually get to be working directly with the artists. I could only wish.” You joked. 

“Still extremely lucky, Na-eun told me she saw Bang Chan and Felix from Stray Kids at your building’s cafeteria yesterday.” Her hair bounced. “Finally, now I can say I’ve indirectly met famous people.” 

You and Na-eun both laughed. Although Yoojin looked the same age as you, there was something about the way she acted that just seemed so precious and innocent — like a little sister. How old was she anyway?

“Yoojin’s younger than me by a few years,” Na-eun said as if she read your thoughts, “She graduated university a year early. Top of her programming class. She knows everything about technology; one time, I stupidly forgot the passcode to my P.O. box and she cracked it for me in less than fifteen minutes.”

“Stop it.” Yoojin whined, looking down and playfully hitting Na-eun on the shoulder. “I told you before that I don’t like it when you talk about me. Let’s talk about Y/n instead. Na-eun told me you’re not from here, what do you do at JYPE then?” 

“I’m an assistant to help market some of the artists in China.” You leaned in a bit. “Actually, to be honest, I’m working on a secret project and Bang Chan from Stray Kids is technically part of the team.” 

Both Yoojin and Na-eun’s eyes widened. “No way, you’re so lucky.” Yoojin said. “Why can’t you have a job like that?” She poked at Na-eun.

“Get your own job first,” Na-eun smirked, “then we can talk about mine.”  

“Hey! I do have a job.” Yoojin clenched her jaw, looking at her plate and avoiding eye contact.

“I’m not sure if talking to people online all day counts as a job.” 

“Whatever.” Yoojin swirled her fork on her plate, stabbing at a piece of her cake. The scraping of metal on ceramic made all of you wince. 

“Anyways,” you started, trying to change the atmosphere, “did anybody watch the first episode of that new drama?” 

The two girls seemed to have a mood switch, looking relieved to start a new conversation. They gladly added their input and opinions on the new drama, talking about both the plot and the actors. Time passed by twice as fast as the three of you sat at the booth talking about the most random things. However, it was soon time to go to work for both you and Na-eun. 

“Hey, before you leave, could I get your number?” Yoojin asked. “We should hang out again sometime.”  

You gladly typed your contact into her phone, excited to hang out with Yoojin again. She was so full of energy, it reminded you of your university days. Not to mention that fluffy curly hair. It was so cute. 

You and Na-eun both made it out of the café and walked side-by-side over to your building before parting ways at the elevator corridor. It was a miracle that you managed to arrive at your cubicle in time, without getting lost. There was a pile of papers on your desk; they were the files you worked on yesterday. You remember that yesterday Manager Chen marked some improvements that could be made to the papers, but you checked your email just to be sure. 

Hello Y/n,

I put the documents from yesterday on your desk for some final edits. I’ve also added a few more. Could you finish them all by the end of the day?

Best, 

Manager Chen

You flipped through the stack of documents, and sure enough, there were about five more letters that needed to be worked on. Feeling determined, you gritted your teeth, got out your pen, and started to do your job. 

There were more corrections to make than what you expected, plus, you wanted to make sure your work was perfect this time. You skipped a trip to the cafeteria for lunch and ate something from the vending machine at your desk instead. You tried your best to work diligently, but because of your inexperience, it was taking longer than expected. You lost track of time as the hours passed by. 

“Your team is working hard today, Manager Chen.” A voice came from across the room. You looked up from your stack of documents to see Manager Kim walking over towards Manager Chen, who was standing casually outside her office doors. 

“What can I say, I keep them busy.” She replied. “Are you heading home now?” 

“Yes, and so should you.” Manaker Kim stopped at your cubicle, putting a hand on the wall. It was cat-like the way he looked at you. “Y/n, you’re working hard. Are you going home now? I’ll give you a ride.” 

You couldn’t head home now, not with the amount of work you still had with the new letters Manager Chen added to the pile. “Thank you for the offer, Manager Kim, but I’ll stay later today. I need to finish this work by today.” 

“Let her be, Manager Kim, you know how new employees are.” Manager Chen nagged and crossed her arms. “Come, I’ll walk you to the parking lot.” 

You bowed at both your managers and stretched your back before getting back to your work. The black lines of both languages started to blur into one as you strained your eyes to hold a tighter focus on the documents. It wasn’t until two more gruesome hours later when you finished your work. You did a long deserved stretch of the arms and checked the clock for the time, praying that it wasn’t too late. Thankfully, with the time being only eight, it wasn’t that dark out. You took a quick peek at your phone to check your notifications before leaving the office. 

There were only two texts sent fifteen minutes ago. Both from Bang Chan. 

Your chest tightened when you unlocked your phone. 

Bang Chan: Hey, I know it’s a bit late, but I have some ideas for the project and I was thinking we could meet up to discuss them

Bang Chan: Only if you want that is…

Your brain was in jumbles as you thought of what to text back. There were a couple staff that wrote you emails about their ideas for the project, but none of them asked to meet in person. And now, the first person who asked you to have a meeting in person was Bang Chan. Whom you rode back to your apartment drunk with. On your first day at work. And now you missed his work-related text by fifteen minutes. However, even though it was late, you still felt like you needed to take his ideas in. After all, like Manager Chen said, you know how new employees are. 

Y/n: Hi, sorry my reply is late… Are you still free? 

You anxiously stared at the blue-lit screen of your phone, jumping in and out of the text app waiting for a reply. After less than a minute, you saw the little dots at the bottom which indicated that he was typing. It disappeared for a moment, only to come back less than a second later. Your thumbs started unconsciously fiddling with one another in front of your phone screen as you waited for what felt like eternity. 

Bang Chan: It’s alright haha 

Bang Chan: There’s a cafe about 5 minutes from our building, wanna meet there? 

You immediately knew which café he was talking about as you conveniently hung out with Na-eun there this morning. You texted Bang Chan back, letting him know that you would be there as soon as possible. You grabbed your bag, along with your trusty pen and notebook,  before leaving your desk for the elevators. The elevator ride was unusually fast as it was already well past working hours for most people.  

Once you were out of the building, you made your way down the familiar sidewalk, passing by the familiar street shops as you felt the bite of the wind against your face. The sky was becoming dim as the sun made its descent, but the illumination coming from the streetlamps helped guide you there. After five minutes of a brisk walk, you saw the familiar sign of the café. You also saw a familiar person standing outside the door, dressed in all black, with his head down looking at his phone. 

You tried to make your footsteps slightly louder the closer you got to him in order to make your presence known. It seemed to have worked, as Bang Chan heard you and turned his head up. He immediately gave you a boyish grin, putting his phone in the pocket of his hoodie and pulling his face mask down to his chin. 

“Hey,” You waved awkwardly, “did I make you wait long?”

“Not at all.” Bang Chan said as he held open the door, “Let’s go in, it’s pretty chilly today.” 

You thanked him and walked inside. You both made your way to the cashier and looked up at the menu, deciding on what to buy. 

“I think I’ll get an iced americano.” Bang Chan said. “Are you getting anything?”

“Hmm. I might get the mango juice.” You decided and lined up behind Bang Chan, waiting for him to order first. 

Bang Chan walked up to the waiting barista. “Hello, I’ll get an iced americano please.” A second passed. “Also a mango juice.” 

Your eyes widened as you silently tried to stop him from buying your drink, feeling embarrassed that Bang Chan — who was essentially your coworker — was buying your drink. He didn’t seem to notice your quiet protests, as he pulled his card out of his wallet and quickly tapped it on the pin pad. After he was done paying, he turned around and tucked his card back in his wallet, giving you a smug grin. 

“I’ll pay you back later.” You insisted, embarrassed once again that he was doing something for you. 

“Of course, of course.” He casually replied and stood beside you with his hands in the pocket of his hoodie. “I’ll wait for our drinks. You can go find a table.” 

You nodded and left to find a table on the first floor. Surprisingly, there were more people there at night than when you were there in the morning. Some people had their textbooks out to study, some were quietly enjoying a book. Some were on dates. 

Finally, after weaving through many fully filled tables, you found an empty one near the table. You sat down, taking out your pen and notebook to prepare for Bang Chan’s ideas. Not long after, you saw Bang Chan walking around, turning his head left and right to look for you. You caught his eye as you waved at him to come over. He strolled over and put the tray of drinks down on the table, placing yours beside your notebook. 

“So,” You took a sip of your delicious mango juice, “do you wanna get started now?” 

“Sure.” His usually friendly face turned serious. It seemed like he took his work seriously. “So I was thinking, we need to film some content to start promoting our debut right? How about we film content for the Mid-Autumn Festival? It falls on the same day as Chuseok, so we can use this as a small promotion for our debut.” 

You nodded in agreement. Although this idea would be a little last minute to carry out, it was a great opportunity to promote their group in order to gain more popularity before their debut in China. “This is a great idea Bang Chan,” You hurriedly jotted down everything he said, “did you have more to add on?”  

“We could make several episodes of this content. I was thinking we could camp in the mountains and maybe cook some food, make mooncakes.” 

“All of this is really good, we have three weeks until the actual Mid-Autumn Festival. If I rush this idea to Manager Chen, we could have one week to plan it, and two weeks to film and produce it.” You beamed, glad that you could be involved in a potential big production. 

You and Bang Chan kept discussing his idea for content, and as time passed, your conversation turned more casual as it eventually evolved into topics unrelated to work.

“So, why are you having coffee this late anyway?” You tipped your chin towards his glass. 

“There’s this part of a song I’m working on that I just can’t get perfect,” Bang Chan noticeably clenched his jaw, “I wanna figure it out before I leave.” 

“Do you usually stay up late to work?” You asked. 

“I can’t sleep anyways, so I might as well work.” 

“Insomnia?” You questioned. He shrugged his shoulders and took a sip of his coffee. A few seconds of silence passed. “You know, my mom made me pack some of her special tea before leaving. She said it was for jet lag, which is weird because there’s only a time difference of an hour here.” You rambled. 

“Oh?” Bang Chan tipped his head. 

“I could give you some tomorrow.” You said. Your eyes wandered everywhere except to him. “If you want.” 

“Really, you’d do that?” His eyes widened as he stirred his coffee with his straw. 

It may have been your subconscious need to make friends, or just the fact that you mom gave you so much tea for your non-existent jet lag, but you gladly offered your mom’s solve-all remedy. “Of course, anything for a friend.” 

He blinked a couple times. He stopped stirring his coffee. “Thanks.” He looked at you with a slight grin. 

“Plus, this way I can pay you back.” You teased. 

“Okay, fair enough.” He chuckled. A dimple appeared on his cheek as his smile widened. “But seriously, you don’t need to worry about paying me back for anything next time.” 

Next time? You wondered. Of course he would have more ideas for his own group. You wanted to roll your eyes at yourself. It seemed like, despite his easy-going personality, that he cared a lot about not only his job, but the boys he worked with. His work ethic inspired you and made you want to work just as hard as he did. Except you definitely couldn’t stay up as late as he did. 

The two of you kept up the back and forth that was established, talking about whatever came to mind, with a few sprinklings of work-related conversations throughout. You talked about your first day impressions and how well you were adjusting to life in a new country, and he retaliated by sharing his own experiences of moving across the world. You were so enraptured by your riveting conversations that you easily lost track of time. It wasn’t until you had already spent minutes playing around with your straw in the empty glass that you finally remembered how late it was.

“It’s kinda late, I think I should get going now.” You said as you checked your phone for the time. 

“Are you taking the subway?” He asked as he started gathering the empty glasses. “It’s pretty dark now — I could walk you there.”

“It’s alright. I don’t wanna take time from your work” You said, gathering your notebook and pen. 

“It’s no problem, really, it’s just a five minute walk.” He stood up with the tray of empty glasses in one hand and pulled up his face mask with the other.

The two of you left the café and walked the short distance to the subway stairs.  There, you parted ways and you started your trek home. Taking the subway at night was vastly different from morning; the morning rush was filled with rows and rows of busy people, whereas the night train had a completely different feeling to it. There were actually available seats, to begin with. You found an empty seat and took out your phone to kill time. You checked your missed notifications.

Yoojin: Hi Y/n!! ^-~ Today was so fun, we should go again sometime! 

You smiled at the little text from Yoojin, visioning her wide smile stretch across her face. Texting a quick reply back, you were about to put your phone back down when another notification popped up. 

Unknown: Stay away from him. This is a warning.  

A flash of panic rushed through your body making your chest tighten. Your heart was coming out of your chest, the beating was so hard you could hear it even in the running subway. Completely fixated on the bright white of your phone, your eyes strained from the light. Adrenaline filled your blood, and in the spur of the moment, you quickly blocked the number and deleted the text chain. It had to just be a prank text, after all, you have gotten pranked through text multiple times before in your past. 

You put your phone down slowly, turning your head to survey your subway cart for any suspicious acting people. There was only a grandma with her cane and a few middle school girls comparing their new lip tints. Your thumbs naturally started fiddling with each other. Your eyebrows knit together as you clutched your bag tight to your body for the rest of the subway ride. 

The walk back to your apartment was done carefully. You chose the side of the sidewalk with more light as you kept your senses open, trying to remember the face of every person that walked past you. Although it was more likely than not that the text was just a prank, you were still somebody living alone with very few connections in a new country. Your legs quickened at the thought and you hurried your way back.

Arriving at your apartment door, you carefully entered your lock combination and slammed your door shut, double checking that it was locked. Your home was dark, with only the moon casting long shadows on your furniture. You quickly switched your light on. You tried to put this text to the back of your mind as you got ready to sleep, but it loomed, feeling like a shadow cast by the moon. The shadow in your mind stayed as you closed your eyes, waiting for your sleep to chase it away. 

The next morning, you woke up to the obnoxious beeping of your alarm. You sleepily sat up, getting ready to perform your familiar morning routine. Everything felt like routine, so monotonous that the text from last night was completely forgotten. You opened the fridge and ate your suspicious egg from yesterday morning. 

Before leaving, you suddenly remembered to bring your mom’s magical tea. You rummaged through the cupboards until you found the ridiculous packaging your mom insisted on using. 

The route to work was already starting to feel familiar as you mindlessly made your way from your quaint apartment all the way to the opulent blue building. You entered the office and sat at your desk, checking for new emails. After nothing of immediate importance came up, you got out your notebook and started to type up your notes from yesterday. 

You were in a trance. The repetitive task of reading and typing completely hypnotised you as hours passed by without you even noticing. What broke you out of your trance, however, was the voice of your boss. 

“Bang Chan.” Manager Chen called out. You looked up from your monitor and peeked up from your cubicle to see the familiar hair of a certain man you knew. Assuming he was here for a meeting with Manager Chen, you went back to your hypnotising work. The walls of your cubicle were too high for him to see you anyways — something about eliminating distractions to maximise work efficiency. 

You hit ‘enter’ on your keyboard to start a new paragraph when all of a sudden, you spotted an object appear on your desk from the corner of your eye. 

A bottle of mango juice. 

Quickly turning your head around, you were met with Bang Chan’s back. He was already making strides towards Manager Chen, but something about the sway of his broad shoulders and the way his right hand stretched open told you that it was him who gave you this little bottle of happiness. You unscrewed the lid and took a sip before getting back to work.  

Thankfully, the gift you received was enough sugar content to keep you working efficiently for the rest of the day. You had finished all your work and could hopefully pitch Manager Chen the idea by tomorrow. You found your mom’s tea in your bag while gathering your stuff, remembering your promise to Bang Chan. 

Y/n: Hey, I have my mom’s tea — I could give it to you right now?

There was a reply almost immediately. 

Bang Chan: Sure ^^ I’m in a practice room on floor X right now, I’ll wait by the elevators. 

You made your way over to the elevators and tapped your nails on the package of tea whilst silently waiting for an elevator to arrive. The silence, however, was promptly cut off as your phone started to ring. It was from Yoojin. She probably wants to hang out soon, you thought as you happily answered right away. 

“Y/n!” Yoojin yelled into the phone, she sounded worried. 

“Yoojin, is there something wrong?” You frowned, concerned for the girl. 

“I-I was in the parking lot near your building, a-and I fell down the stairs.” She sniffed. “I think I sprained my ankle or something — I can’t stand up. It hurts so much.” 

“Oh god, Yoojin, do you want me to come help?” You were in the elevator by now, already pressing the button for the main floor. 

“If you’re not far, I don’t want to trouble you.” You heard sounds of her wincing. 

“It’s no trouble Yoojin,” You exclaimed, “your ankle is much more important now. I’ll be right there.” 

“Thank you Y/n.” You heard her sniff again through the phone. 

You bolted out of the elevator as soon as it reached the main floor, stuffing your forgotten package in your bag. Ignoring the looks of confusion of the people you sprinted past, you located the parking lot building as soon as you left the main doors of the JYPE building. Your chest burned and your breaths were heavy. 

You were worried for Yoojin. She seemed like such a sweet girl that it pained you to even imagine her hurt in any sort of way. With her fluffy hair and wide eyes, it made you feel like you were helping an injured puppy. 

Your legs felt like concrete after a while of running, but you finally made it to the parking lot building. Entering the parking lot, you looked for any sign of a staircase where Yoojin said she fell on. There were none. 

“Excuse me, where are the stairs to this parking lot?” You asked the parking lot attendant, assuming it was just hidden somewhere. 

“There are no stairs here,” He said, “if you want to get to the second floor, there is an elevator over there.” He pointed to the other side of the lot. 

You thanked the man and ran to the elevator, hoping Yoojin wasn’t too hurt by now. You’ve experienced injuries like these before whilst playing sports back home, they hurt like hell. Your breathing was staggered by the time you reached the elevator, however, you didn’t give up and kept looking around trying to find the girl. There was nobody. You were about to call Yoojin again just to make sure you were in the correct place, but a voice interrupted you. 

“Y/n.” 

It was Manager Kim.

[elentiyawhitethorn]

When Passion Rules the Game | Part Two

CW: language

Part One//Part Three//Masterlist//2228 words

There was something Aelin had to do today.

She had been lying in bed semiconscious, held tightly by strong arms for a few minutes now. And there was this nagging sensation at the back of her mind that something important was happening today.

Maybe to do with Fleetfoot. No, Dorian was staying over because his girlfriend was pissed at him, as she tended to be, and he had promised to feed and walk the dog in exchange for a couple days on Aelin’s couch.

What, then?

Was she missing some sort of event? Like… work? Did Aelin work? She probably did. Most people had jobs. What was hers, then?

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. Aelin did have a job. And not only was she supposed to be on time on a regular day, a new employee was joining the office, transferring from his position in Doranelle. Whitethorn. Yes, Rowan Whitethorn. That was what she had to do today.

Aelin jolted into a sitting position the second she remembered. All tiredness vanished from her body, leaving her an anxious wreck. She had a fucking job.

Someone groaned in their sleep, protesting her sudden movements. Aelin glanced over to find the hot guy from last night reaching for her drowsily. Mournfully, Aelin shook off his grasp and crawled out of bed, landing on the floor unsteadily. She spotted her dress on the floor and reached for it, tugging it on as quickly as humanly possible. Then she grabbed her heels, knowing putting them on would only slow her down.

Her underwear… had been in the man’s pocket last she checked. Fuck. She’d just have to leave it. And damn if that didn’t upset her; it was her favorite pair.

Sighing, Aelin exited the bedroom with one last backward glance at the sleeping man. Then she navigated her way down the thankfully simple hallway and to the front door.

Half an hour later, Aelin was at work.

She had raced home, getting lost only a couple of times. Then she had stripped and taken the fastest shower of her life. Pulling on a pantsuit and flats, Aelin had ignored her growling stomach, desperate for breakfast, and bolted out to her car. In which she had broken about five different traffic laws trying to make it to work. She had probably set the world record for getting out of a one night stand’s bed and to her job.

Maybe no one would notice. Maybe she wasn’t actually late, and her watch, and her phone, and the clock on the way to the elevator were all an hour off. Maybe her new employee, who she was supposed to make a good first impression on, would believe her if she said her dog had been run over by a train. So many maybes.

“Where the fuck have you been?” a voice hissed. So much for no one noticing.

Aelin glanced over at Elide, her assistant and closest friend. “Who, me?”

Elide crossed her arms. “You’re an hour late.”

“I was just…” She waved her arms vaguely.

A death stare was all she received in return. “I don’t care whose bed you find you way into on your own time, but I expect you to make it to work, especially when you have a new employee.” Elide could be terrifying when she was angry, and she often acted as more of a mother to Aelin than an assistant or friend, despite the fact that she was two years younger.

Aelin winced. “Is he pissed? Did you tell him he got the wrong time and I’m actually early? Where is he?”

Elide sighed. “By the gods’ good grace, I suppose as a second chance for you to pull yourself together, he isn’t fucking here.” She didn’t curse often. When she did, it meant run in the other direction.

“He’s not here? Like actually?”

“Yes, like actually,” Elide said, sarcasm dripping from her tone. “I don’t understand what’s wrong with the world. His first day of work, and he’s not here. Go to your office. Now.” Elide thrust a cup of coffee Aelin.

Knowing better than to argue with the petite woman, Aelin nodded guiltily, grabbed the coffee, and headed back. She closed the door behind her, taking a seat behind her desk. Then she took a much-needed sip of caffeine.

She was really an hour late, and Rowan Whitethorn still wasn’t here? As relieved as Aelin was, she was also pissed. What right did he have to be absent of his first day? That took some nerve. He better have a damn good excuse.

Aelin tried to catch up on some paperwork while she waited, but her mind was far away, in the bedroom of the sex god she had encountered last night. She drank some more coffee.

Not five minutes after she sat down, a firm knock sounded on the door.

“Come in,” Aelin called, scrambling to put some papers in front of herself and pretend she had been doing something of consequence.

The door opened to reveal Elide. “Mr. Whitethorn here to see you.” Her voice was innocent enough, but the look on her face said, You may have been spared by the universe, but I will come for you later.

“Send him in,” Aelin said impatiently. How dare this man be… five minutes later than her? The nerve!

Elide backed away, revealing a figure. A figure that Aelin knew. She froze.

Tall, well-built, silver-haired. Green eyes and a light stubble, probably forfeiting shaving for making it to his new job. A long-sleeve buttoned shirt covering what Aelin knew to be a tattoo. A long and sexy tattoo. He looked like a wreck, circles under his eyes and a guilty, terrified expression. He must be concerned he was going to be fired, and he was almost certainly regretting last night. Aelin knew the feeling.

Aelin could see the exact moment he recognized her, his steps faltering and his guilt and fear turned into surprise. Elide sent a confused look to Aelin, and she quickly mastered her shock. “Please take a seat, Mr. Whitethorn.”

His eyes no less conveying the rude awakening he was feeling, he walked forward and took a seat on the other side of Aelin’s desk.

Satisfied, Elide said, “Let me know if you need anything,” shutting the door behind her. And then they were alone.

“You’re Aelin Galathynius,” the man stated in disbelief. Rowan.

“And you’re Rowan Whitethorn,” Aelin said dryly. “A pleasure.”

Rowan blinked. “You—”

“I expect you not to be late in the future,” Aelin said, not bothering to acknowledge him.

“But… Aelin… fuck.”

Aelin frowned, taking a deep breath. “We are going to pretend last night never happened. Nor will there be any repeats. As far as I’m concerned I’ve never met you before.”

Rowan opened his mouth. Then closed it. Then opened it again.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Whitethorn.” Aelin stood and extended her arm over the desk.

“Aelin—”

“Miss Galathynius,” she corrected sharply.

“Miss Galathynius,” he repeated, still dazed. And from the prominent marks under his eyes, he was as tired as she. “Nice to meet you, too,” he finally replied, shaking her hand. “I’m sorry I was late. It won’t happen again.”

Aelin almost shivered when his strong, calloused hand grasped hers, and she was instantly flooded with shame. This man, her employee, had had those fingers inside of her. He had gagged her and bound her and spanked her and called her a slut. And she had begged for him.

She pulled her hand from his grip a bit too sharply. “Good, it better not,” Aelin said, pretending that nothing had happened, pretending that her face wasn’t flushed with humiliation. She was a fucking CEO, and now this man probably wasn’t thinking about that, or about all the work she had put into making it to this position. He was likely thinking about what she had let him do to her. Maybe he was even thinking about trying to do it again. Gods damn it all to hell.

Glancing at his wary posture once more, Aelin slid her coffee cup to him. “Drink. You’ll need it.”

Needless to say, they had a long day.

—

“Was it worth it, Aelin?” Elide asked with a frown.

She and Dorian were on one of Aelin’s couches, Aelin herself sprawled across the other one. Apparently Elide was not over today’s late appearance.

“Was what worth it?” Dorian asked, giving Fleetfoot a rub.

Elide sighed. “She came in an hour late, a whole hour, because she got held up in some dude’s bed, or so I’m assuming. Nearly missed meeting with a new worker.”

Aelin remained silent.

“Ooh, sounds like fun,” Dorian said, earning a glare from Elide. “Well? Was it worth it?”

“No,” Aelin said flatly.

“That bad?” Dorian asked sympathetically.

Aelin shot him her best glare. “Fuck off.”

“You weren’t this pissed off this morning,” Elide said. Sly little bitch.

“You fuck off, too.”

“What happened?” Dorian pleaded. “I have no gossip these days. Manon won’t let me back into the apartment until I apologize for staining her favorite dress. I am literally starved for anything.”

Aelin couldn’t even bring herself to laugh at his conundrum. Instead, she buried her face in a pillow and let out a muffled yell.

“Hey, what’s wrong, Lin?” Elide asked, all annoyance gone from her tone.

As much as she didn’t want to talk about it, she also wanted to scream to somebody. “Remember Mr. Whitethorn, the new guy?”

“Yeah,” Elide said hesitantly, probably thinking this no longer had anything to do with last night. How wrong she was.

“Remember how he was also late this morning?”

“Yeah…”

A moment of confusion passed before Elide and Dorian started yelling at the same time. They were speaking over each other, so it was hard to decipher, but Aelin caught a few ‘what the fuck’s, ‘oh gods really’s, and ‘you did not!’s.

“Shut up,” she moaned, banging her head on the couch. “I’m so fucking screwed.”

“Seriously, Aelin?” Elide asked in exasperation.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” she snapped. “I didn’t know it was him.”

Dorian laughed gleefully. “He slept with his boss.”

Aelin grunted.

“Was it bad?” he asked.

She grunted again.

“Was it good?”

Aelin’s silence had Dorian cackling. “How good are we talking?”

“I didn’t say it was good,” she muttered.

Elide snorted. “Just answer the question so we can decide how much we need to make fun of you.”

Aelin scowled. “Miscreants.” She blushed. “It was pretty good.”

Dorian just about howled. “We need details.”

“We do not!” Elide protested, but she was laughing.

“Ugh!” For all of Aelin’s complaints, she was a total gossip at heart and sharing with two of her best friends always made her feel better. Not that she was going to give them any actual details. “We hooked up in the bar’s bathroom. And then I was in his apartment. Fuck, I was in my employee’s apartment! I was in my employee’s bed!”

They both laughed. Traitors.

“Tell us about him,” Dorian said suggestively.

“I will not, damn it. I’m done talking about it.”

“Come on. At least tell us what happened this morning.”

Aelin debated it. “I woke up. And then I remembered that I had places to be.” Elide snorted here. “I pulled on my dress and ran out the door. I went home for like five minutes. Then at work, some little bitch yelled at me for being late.” Aelin glared at Elide, and Dorian grinned. “And then that little fucker walked in my office.” Aelin detailed the rest of the day, from the initial conversation, to the awkward interactions later on, to their uncomfortable farewell as the work day ended.

Elide was giggling hysterically by the end of it, pleased that Aelin had been thoroughly punished for being late. And then some. Dorian was overjoyed, because he was a little shit. Aelin wanted to murder them both by the end of it, but of course, they had made her tell them. She needed to talk about it, if only because she couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Elide left after a little while, leaving Aelin with a threat to be on time tomorrow. Dorian stayed on the couch, and Aelin went back to her room very early, with a lot of sleep to catch up on.

In bed, though, sleep did not come. Aelin just couldn’t stop imagining last night: the way Rowan’s cock had filled her deliciously, the way he had brought her over the edge three times, and probably would have done it more if he’d felt like it.

No matter the shame that welled up inside of her for the thoughts that were coursing through her mind, Aelin just couldn’t stop wanting him, couldn’t control herself from feeling wet at the thought of their handshake this morning, his fingers gripping her strongly. The fact that she knew his name made it so much worse. Now all Aelin wanted to do was scream his name to the gods.

It took every molecule of willpower in her not to slide her fingers down her body and imagine they were Rowan’s. Instead, she eventually fell asleep with her hands clenched into fists and tears of frustration and self-resentment drying on her cheeks.

In other words, Aelin was screwed.

———

Tag List:

@aelin-bitch-queen

@autumnbabylon

@evolving-dreamer

@feysand-loml

@flora-shadowshine

@gracie-rosee

@infernoqueen19

@julemmaes

@lemonade-coolattas

@live-the-fangirl-life

@midsizewitch

@morganofthewildfire

@nehemikkele

@realbookloverproblems

@rhysandswingspan

@rowanaelinn

@sexy-dumpster-fire

@sleeping-and-books

@story-scribbler

@swankii-art-teacher

@thenerdandfandoms

@yesdreamblog

[unholyobsessions]

Welcome to my dorm

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader

Warnings: eight year age difference. Mentions of kidnapping

Description: the FBI question you about your friend’s disappearance and you can’t help feeling for a certain doctor. (Inspired by scene above)

Part 2 -- Part 3 -- Part 4 There was heavy knocking on your door. You rolled over, burying your face deeper in the pillow. “Y/n l/n this is the FBI open up!” You let out a groan followed by a dry laugh. “Real funny Danny now let me sleep,” you yelled loud enough for who you assumed was your friend Danny to hear. The knocking continued, pissing you off. You let out a huff reaching over to your nightstand to put on your glasses and climbed out of your bed. “Damn it Daniel seriously if you don’t knock it off I swe-“ you opened the door and the words died in your throat. 

Two very attractive men were standing in front of you holding FBI badges up. You saw them eye you up and down which prompted you to look down at yourself. You felt heat rush to your face as you took in the loose booty shorts and bralette you were wearing. Both men put their badges away and stood awkwardly at the door. You snapped out of your embarrassed daze and cleared your throat. “I am not wearing the appropriate clothes for this. Come in.” You stepped out of the way and headed to your closet to grab a random sweatshirt, pulling it over your head. Once you were no longer exposed you turned to face the agents that were now letting their gazes wonder around your dorm room. You found yourself thanking past you for taking the time to clean it two days ago. When they realized that you were now fully dressed the dark skinned man spoke. “We are sorry to bother you this early, I’m Agent Derek Morgan and this is Dr. Spencer Reid and we need to ask you some questions.” The man who you now identified as Agent Morgan gestured to the tall curly haired man next to him. You smiled gently at both of them before pointing to the two chairs by the desk. “Questions regarding what, Agents?” You asked them as they sat down. “The disappearance of Haley Bowen. She went to school here.” This time it was Dr. Reid that spoke. Your eyes widened, you knew her. “Oh my God okay.” You took a deep breath, your brain not really knowing how to react. “Umm do you guys want coffee? I can’t really function without caffeine in the morning so I’m just going to make a pot.” You changed the subject quickly. Your friend was missing and the agents needed your help. You cannot break down. “No thank you.” Agent Morgan answered at the same time as Dr. Reid said, “Yes please.” You sent him a smile and started preparing the coffee. Morgan gave Reid a look and he shrugged as if to say ‘hey, coffee is coffee.’ “How do you take your coffee? Personally I take mine with too much sugar and too much creamer because I don’t really enjoy the taste of coffee but I’m still kind of addicted to it. Which my friends say makes me insane but I actually think it’s pretty normal. The taste is too bitter, reminds me of dark chocolate,” you stopped yourself. “Sorry I’m rambling I tend to do that in uncomfortable situations.” You looked at Dr. Reid expectantly and it took him a second to realize that you were waiting for his answer. “Oh uh three teaspoons.” He gave a small nod at the sugar in your hand. You smiled widely at him, seemingly glad that you were not the only one to enjoy overly sweet coffee. She’s cute, Spencer found himself thinking. After stirring sugar into both cups you walked over to the agents and handed one of the cups to Dr. Reid. Seeing as there were no more available chairs, you hopped on your desk and sat criss cross facing them. “So why are you asking me about Haley?” You took a long sip of your coffee. “She was last seen at the bar you work at.” Agent Morgan spoke but you couldn’t seem to take your eyes off Dr. Reid. He’s cute, you thought. “So she disappeared on Saturday?” You let out a sigh. “You remember seeing her?” This time Reid spoke making direct eye contact with you. You nodded. “She was a regular so we became friends over time. She comes in every weekend to blow off steam. She’s double majoring so she has a lot on her plate. She sits at the bar. Same place every time so I’m always her bartender.” Both Agents nodded at the information given, internally relieved that this interview could result in a lead in the case. “Did you notice anything different about her that night? Anybody that tried to approach her or payed more attention to her?” Dr. Reid asked you. “Well she seemed nervous. She talks to me a lot, rants about her professors and stuff like that. She didn’t talk much on Saturday and she seemed restless. Fidgeting in her seat and playing with the rings on her fingers. I just assumed she was meeting a guy and that’s why she was nervous. I pay attention to her, she gets drunk often and all of the workers like to make sure that nobody too drunk walks home alone or leaves with someone they are uncomfortable with. Whenever she was uncomfortable with a guy trying to make a move on her she played with her rings. That’s when I knew to intervene.” You took a deep breath and a gulp of your coffee, burning your tongue in the process. You felt tears pooling in your eyes and you did your best to blink them away. “Did you see a guy approach her that night?” Again it was Dr. Reid who asked the question, his voice softer this time. You hesitated before answering trying your hardest to remember. “There was this one guy,” you paused, letting your mind wander back to Saturday night. “He wasn’t drunk like most people there. He talked to her while he waited for me to serve him his drink. He got a coke which was strange for someone who was clearly sober to order. I recognized his face but couldn’t place a name. I turned around to serve another group and when I turned back the guy was walking away and Haley was asking for her check. She wasn’t drunk, barely tipsy so I didn’t insist on calling her a cab. Damn it why didn’t I call her a cab?” You couldn’t stop the tears anymore. This was your fault, you should have made sure she got home safely, you should have called her at least. She was your friend and now she could be dead and it will be your fault. Sobs racked your body, your half empty coffee cup slipping from your fingers and shattering on the floor, the sound only making you cry harder. Morgan instinctively reached for your hand the words of comfort ready to be spoken. He was stopped when Reid leaned toward you and grabbed your hand away from your face. He gave it a small tug to make you look at him. He didn’t know what came over him at that moment. He didn’t shake hands and didn’t really touch people but all he knew was that he wanted you to stop crying and he never wanted to see you sad again. “Hey it’s not your fault.” His voice was soft but firm. “There was no way for you to know what would happen and you had no way to stop it. What you told us right now is extremely helpful and will help us bring Haley back home. Okay?” You gave a small nod of your head trying to calm yourself down. “It’s okay just breath with me.” Dr. Reid took a deep breath and you mimicked him continuing until your breathing was back to normal and only a few stray tears were running down your cheeks. “Thank you.” You sniffled and smiled shyly at him. “Would you mind coming down to the station later and giving a description of the man you saw with Haley to a sketch artist?” Dr. Reid looked you in the eyes, his deep look telling you that although it was phrased as a question it was really the only choice you had. “Yeah that’s okay.” You wanted to reach up and rub at your runny nose but you noticed that he was still holding your hand. He felt the slight movement and realized as well. The both of you blushed and averted eye contact while Agent Morgan looked at the two of you with an amused expression. Both Agents stood up signaling that they were prepared to leave. You lead them to the door and they both thanked you for your time. Before you closed the door Dr. Reid handed you his card telling you to call him if you remember anything else that might seem important. You nodded at him, not trusting your voice. You gave him a wide smile which contrasted with your red teary eyes but he still felt the breath being knocked out of him. After the door closed Morgan looked at Reid. “What was that?” Spencer played dumb and started down the dormitory hallway. “What was what?” He pushed the door to the stairs open and looked back at Morgan. “What do you mean ‘what was what’ you were totally into that girl.” Morgan grinned at him and Spencer felt his cheeks heat up. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Spencer started down the stairs, making a point to ignore Morgan’s laughter. • • • A few hours later you had taken a shower and put your contacts on. You put on a light face of make up and decided that this time when you met the agents you would be fully clothed so you put on a pair of jeans and a white tank top with a loose button up over it. You slipped on a pair of converse and headed to the police station. You walked up to the front desk and smiled lightly at the woman sitting behind it. “Hi I’m looking for Dr. Reid he told me I was coming in for a sketch.” The woman nodded and gestured someone over. You waited patiently as the two had a conversation and eventually Dr. Reid came into view. You smiled at him and it grew when he gave you a grin back. He guided you through the police station with a hand placed firmly on your back his hand pressing harder when one of the men in the holding cell wolf whistled at you. He brought you to a room where a sketch artist was sitting there waiting. “Here you go.” He mumbled under his breath. “Thank you.” You sat down as Reid left the room. You talked to the sketch artist for about 45 minutes trying to give as much detail as possible. You looked at your watch and noticed your afternoon shift at the bar was starting soon. You quickly thanked the artist and made a quick exit in hopes of not being late. You speed walked all the way to the bar and got there just in time to see the morning bartender ready to leave his shift. He sent you a tight lipped smile as you settled yourself behind the bar. The place was empty except for the man sitting at the bar who looked to be nursing a glass of whiskey. A few minutes later you heard the door ring signaling someone coming in. “Be right with you,” you called as you refilled the man’s glass. He was mumbling something about a cheating girlfriend which made you wince slightly. People dealing with heartbreak at a bar never ended well. You turned around to greet the costumer who had just taken a seat at the bar. Your eyes widened in surprise when you saw Dr. Reid sitting there with a sheepish smile on his beautiful face. “Dr. Reid what can I do for you?” He looked down for a second before making eye contact. He’s nervous, you thought. “I just needed to clear my head for a bit and I wanted to take a look at the scene and try to get a sense of what happened that night.” You nodded your head before giving him your signature smile. “Well can I get you something? I’m not going to offer anything alcoholic since you are still on the job but I do make a mean Arnold palmer.” You sent him a subtle wink, reaching under the bar for a glass. He snorted before accepting your offer. Setting the prepared drink in front of him, you spared a glance at the sulking man to find him slumped in his seat with light snores leaving his mouth. Damn, you thought, this is going to be a slow shift. You turned your attention back to the Dr. who was looking at you with a quirked brow having noticed the frown on your face. You quickly explained how you hated afternoon shifts because they usually consisted of you being bored out of your mind dealing with day drinkers. He struck up conversation to “relieve some of your boredom” as he so kindly put it. Conversation flowed extremely easy between the two of you, talking about anything and everything. From his experience in college to what your favorite song was at the moment. “I have a question,” he spoke after taking a bite of the french fries you had brought out at some point during the conversation. “I may have an answer. Ask away doc.” He smiled lightly at the nickname. “You’re a senior right?” You nodded your head, wondering where this was going. “So why do you still live in the dorms?” You let out a small laugh. “It’s part of my scholarship. I get free housing and I am also an RA.” He took a sip of his drink and mulled over the information. “Now it’s my turn. How old are you?” You told yourself it was an innocent question, that you held no ulterior motives other than curiosity.  His eyebrows rose before he set his glass down. “I’m twenty-nine. You’re twenty-one right?” “Yeah.” Eight years, you thought, not that big of a difference. You internally scolded yourself. You couldn’t be thinking that. He was here doing an investigation on your missing friend. He wasn’t thinking about picking up some random college girl who still lived in the school dormitories. 

Similarly, Spencer was having an internal battle about his feelings. He wanted to believe that what he was feeling was simple protectiveness over a witness, although it was pretty clear that you were not in any sort of danger. 

“So where do you live?” You asked in order to fill the silence that had taken place. “I live about and hour and a half away in D.C.” He felt the need to add the fact that he didn’t live far away from your current location.  “I’ve never been.” You said. He almost chocked on his drink. “You’ve never been to D.C.? But it’s so close!” Again with the proximity, could you be any more obvious? Spencer scolded himself.   “I know I know but I work most weekends and when I’m not working I’m studying so it is kind of hard to get free time.” I’ll take you. That is what he wanted to say. He had to stop before he made a fool out of himself. He didn’t know why he was feeling this way. Sure he has been attracted to plenty of girls before but you were different. You didn’t stop his ramblings about statistics and random facts that he had in his brain. You listened to him and sometimes even asked to him to elaborate more on a certain subject. You also tended to ramble like when he asked about your family, you went on a tangent about how your mom was your best friend and your younger sister had a dream of being a dancer. Or when he asked about your major and you went on to explain all the research you were doing. You were so passionate about everything you talked about. He smiled at the happiness in your eyes. They were still bloodshot from your breakdown this morning but they held so much happiness and hope that he couldn’t help but feel the same. He was about to reply when his phone rang and he realized he had been talking to you for over an hour. More than halfway to D.C., he thought. He answered it and heard Morgan’s voice telling him to head back to the station as they had found the name of the man who talked to Haley that night. “I uh- I have to go.” He gestured behind him to the door but he couldn’t bring himself to stand up yet. You nodded your head, slightly disappointed that he had to leave. You reached into your pocket and pulled out the card he gave you this morning, writing down your number on the back. “Call me if you find her. Please. Dead or alive I don’t care I just don’t want to find out from the news.” You handed him the card and he looked down at it. “Don’t you need my number if you need to call me? If you have more information that is.” He questioned. “Oh I already put it on my phone. Is that weird?” He looked at you with something that you couldn’t put your finger on. “No, not weird. Kind of cute actually.” He smiled down at you, having already stood up from the bar chair. You blushed and looked away from him. Your blush gave him a sudden surge of confidence. “Can I call you? Even if it isn’t about Haley. Can I just call you?” You smiled brightly at him. “Yes Dr. Reid you can call me.” “Spencer,” he said. You gave him a confused look. “Call me Spencer.” He took a step back heading to the door. “Spencer.” You tested the name on your lips, the smile never leaving your face. He grinned at you and walked out the door. • • • The next day you received a call from Spencer after your lecture. You smiled down at your phone before answering. “Spencer to what do I owe the pleasure?” “Hey y/n we found Haley.” Your heart stopped, the voice in your head praying for it to be good news. “She’s alive and being taken to the hospital.” A long breath left your lips as tears stung your eyes. She’s alive. She’s alive. Without thinking you hung up the phone and hurried to find a cab that could take you to the hospital. You payed the man quickly and took off after he pulled up to the curb. You saw Spencer with Agent Morgan and a woman you haven’t seen before but you assumed she was a part of their team. “She’s okay? Please tell me she’s going to be okay.” You started speaking as soon as you were within hearing distance of Spencer. As he soon as he saw you his eyes softened. “She’s in the ICU right now. They are setting her up and her mom is on the way.” He looked down at you and his heart broke at the tears that were making their way down your cheeks. “Oh thank god. Who was it? Was it the guy I-“ your voice broke before you could finish but Spencer understood what you wanted to ask. “Yeah it was. If it wasn’t for you remembering him it would have taken us a lot longer to find her. You saved her y/n okay?” He reassured you because he knew what you were thinking. It was written across your face. You could have stopped him. “You had no way of knowing. Don’t blame yourself.” He placed his hands on your shoulders as you nodded your head weakly. You leaned your head on his chest needing some sort of comfort from what you were feeling. He didn’t push you away. In fact he pulled you closer and let you cry, staining his shirt. Morgan and Prentiss gave each other a bewildered look because Spencer Reid did not hug. Much less strangers who were witnesses on a case. A doctor came into view and cleared his throat. “Haley Bowen,” he called out. You pulled away from Spencer and walked toward the doctor. “Yes?” He gave you a smile which you took to be good news. “She’s going to be fine. She has a concussion, bruised ribs and sprained wrists from being bound but I have no doubt that she will make a full recovery and be out of here in the next few days.” You let out a sigh of relief. “Can I see her?” The doctor shook his head. “Right now it is family only and I’ve been told her mother is not far but after she gets moved out of the ICU tomorrow you can come visit her at any time.” The doctor finished and walked away. You turned back to the three agents who were now looking at you. You felt awkward in their gaze so you locked eyes with Spencer. “Thank you Spencer really. I should go I have a class in about 40 minutes but hey don’t be a stranger.” You pointed an accusing finger at him and he let out a laugh. “Spencer?” Prentiss and Morgan mouthed to each other. “I won’t I swear. I’ll call you later?” He ignored the questioning looks his coworkers were sure to be giving him. “I’d like that. Maybe you can show me around D.C. sometime.” He smiled as he remembered their conversation yesterday. “Definitely.” You blushed, something that you found yourself doing a lot around him. “Bye Spencer.” “See you later y/n.” He watched you disappear from view before turning back to Morgan and Prentiss. “Okay what the hell was that?” Prentiss spoke up first. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He smiled innocently at both of them before walking away in search of coffee, ignoring his friend’s calls from behind him. He wondered if you would mind him calling you earlier than expected.

[sweetcheol]

college boyfriend!wonwoo

—genre: fluff

—au: college

—pairing: jeon wonwoo x reader

—song to listen to while reading: falling for u — seventeen

—word count: 2.9k words

—warning(s): mentions of sex, a bit of cursing. also i feel like this is a bit of a mess but so am i when thinking of wonu so

never, in your two years of university, had you actually met your best friend’s roommate

his name was wonwoo, and according to mingyu, he spent most of his time either in class or working as a waiter at a diner downtown

the only times he seemed to be home was either late at night, after you had either gone home or passed out on mingyu’s bed while he slept on the couch, or early in the morning, after you had gone to your own classes

which was weird considering how most of your days were either spent in class or in mingyu’s flat, as it was bigger and way more comfortable than your tiny dorm

you knew he existed, of course, because sometimes you’d come to find a hoodie of his lying on the couch

or a book neatly placed on the coffee table with a bookmark stuck somewhere past the middle

sometimes you’d even find a cup of half-drank coffee resting on the sink, a rarity considering just how neat mingyu’s roommate seemed to be

you’d seen him in pictures

he would be tagged in some instagram story drunk mingyu had posted when coming home from the club, the roommate rolling his eyes at the taller boy for making a mess as he entered the flat

or he would be smiling in a group picture taken at some birthday dinner with the rest of his and mingyu’s friends

and you had seen him in the portraits that hung in their living room; some of his and his family and some of his and his friends

and you had heard of him

oh boy had you heard of him

mingyu never really stopped bringing him up, blabbering about how wonwoo had accidentally opened the door to the bathroom while mingyu was showering (which was a big deal since mingyu had... broken the shower curtain a week before and still hadn’t gotten a replacement)

or talking about how he had almost choked on his soda after he was told his photos were selected to be exhibited at a showcase

and at that point, you were sure you were pretty much acquainted with him ... without even having said hello

but you had never actually seen him

and the first time you did, it was so rushed and chaotic, that it was almost as if you hadn’t (or at least, that’s what you would have wanted)

because you and your friends had gone out clubbing

and you had ended up drunk off your ass

which caused your roommate to call mingyu, the only person she could actually trust with your well-being in such a state, to pick you up because she was going off with someone for the night

and mingyu, being the loyal best friend he was, was left to deal with you and your nonsense

which included you practically screaming a very slurred “hey! you’re the roommate! dude, you’re cute!” to wonwoo as mingyu ushered you to his room

poor wonwoo was just coming out of his room when you had walked (kind-of) inside the flat, hair a mess with a big grin on your face (despite your now-ruined lipstick)

and it was a bit astounding at first

because wonwoo had never actually seen you either

he’d always thought it was weird, of course, because of the way mingyu always talked about you... he had always thought you two were pretty much a thing

it’s not like mingyu had ever spoken about you in that way, but the thought had planted itself in wonwoo’s head and now there was no way to shake it off

and the fact that he’d walked outside his room to find you and mingyu laughing and cooking breakfast together next morning didn’t help

because you had music playing and were lip syncing and smiling at each other

and wonwoo only whispered a quick “good morning” before he walked back inside his room with a glass of water in his hand

because well ... you were cute

but you were also with mingyu

and weirdly, after that night, the two of you started seeing each other almost everyday

turns out you shared not one, but two classes, and had not once noticed because you sat in opposite sides of the classroom

and you frequented the same coffee shop, almost always stopping by for your daily caffeine fix at the exact same time

and you were usually around the same spots in the library, faces way too deep in a book to ever notice the other

and well... you thought he was cute too

but he sort of, kind of, definitely avoided you whenever you saw him

he wasn’t rude or anything, but he’d never spend more than five minutes around you whenever you ran into him

not even when you laid in mingyu’s couch eating pizza and watching re-runs of your favorite dramas, because wonwoo basically chose to eat cold cereal alone in his room than to be around the two of you together

he was very observant, and in those few weeks, he had noticed you

like, really noticed you

and how you both enjoyed the same kind of books, drank your coffee exactly the same, listened to the same type of music and even had the same kind of humor

he noticed how similar you two were

he noticed how perfect you two went together

but you were with someone else already

except you noticed all of those things too

but once again, wonwoo avoided you like the plague

so that had to mean he didn’t like you, didn’t it?

it broke your heart when thinking about it

and you tried to ask mingyu but he was always like “nah, he doesn’t hate you. i think?”

so you were back to staring at him in class and hoping he wouldn’t turn around and catch you in the act

little did you know that you were slowly falling for each other

but being so similar, you tried your best not to think about the other

and as finals came around, it wasn’t that hard, because again, you both immersed yourselves in your academic lives so much it basically became your sole focus for that one period of time

until the boys went out to celebrate soonyoung’s a+ in his calculus test

and wonwoo saw mingyu make out with some girl in the middle of the dance floor

his hands balled into fists by his sides almost unconsciously, and he was 100% sure he would’ve gone and told mingyu off if only he wasn’t entrusted with dealing with a very drunk seungkwan, who was doing a very good job with keeping him occupied

because he kept trying to pick random sing offs with every single person his eyes fell on

and just because the rest of seungkwan’s roommates were equally drunk, he and jun had to spend the night at their place to make sure they were going to see the next day

but as soon as he went home the next morning and ran into a ... very shirtless mingyu, he went off

and boy did he go off

“how could you do that to (y/n)? do you even know how lucky you are? fuck, mingyu, you’re such an idiot. i swear, if you don’t go and apologize your ass off - no, actually don’t do that. you don’t deserve (y/n), you know? after what you did?”

and he just kept ... going

and poor mingyu was just staring at wonwoo as he blabbered whatever was on his mind at him and he was ??? so confused

“what the fuck are you even talking about?”

“i saw you! i saw you making out with that girl last night! and you brought her here, didn’t you?”

“well, yeah, but i-”

“see! that’s what i’m talking about! you cheated on (y/n) and go about it so casually, as if-”

“wait! cheated on (y/n)? wonwoo what the fuck?”

and mingyu ... he looks so lost that wonwoo would probably had just left if only he wasn’t so mad at him

because he was so, so, so head over heels for you

and the thought of you being hurt made his blood boil

“what does (y/n) have to do with this?”

“you’re their boyfriend! and you brought a girl home!”

“jesus fuck wonwoo, you got it all wrong! (y/n)’s my best friend! that’s it! we’re not dating, oh my god.”

and wonwoo was just ??? standing in the middle of the kitchen, face red, hands balled into fists and just about ready to swing at mingyu to defend your honor

and so it dawned upon mingyu. why would wonwoo even care? did you two even know each other?

“wait! do you like (y/n)?”

and wonwoo basically rolled his eyes at mingyu as he walked away and left the taller boy in the kitchen by himself

and well ... wonwoo didn’t know what to do

because he had tried to keep his feelings to himself for so long

and now they were basically fighting, with all their might, to come out

and he felt as if he was dreaming, or in some sort of daze, because before he could even realize, he was walking back into the kitchen and to a (still) very confused mingyu

“can you give me (y/n)’s number?”

mingyu nodded, still analyzing the situation, and handed him his phone with wonwoo’s yelling still buzzing in his ears

“i’m sorry, by the way”

and it must have been the remains of his sudden jolt of adrenaline, because his fingers were basically gliding over the keyboard as he texted you a sweet hi, it’s wonwoo. mingyu gave me your number, hope you don’t mind :)

you didn’t see the text until a little after when you woke up

because well... you’re so not a morning person

but when you looked up your phone you nearly passed out

because it was a text from wonwoo

your crush, who you could’ve sworn hated your guts before that morning

and you also had like 15 missed calls from mingyu and a very confusing text you didn’t even understand (something about him being scared? and demanding you to go to his apartment? in all caps?)

so you took a shower, got dressed (slightly more elegantly than you usually did when you hung out with mingyu) and went over to his flat

and to your surprise, it wasn’t mingyu who opened the door

it was wonwoo

he was smiling at you, and it was the most beautiful smile you’ve ever seen

but then you heard mingyu’s voice from the kitchen

“thank god, go somewhere else and sort out whatever it is that’s going on before wonwoo actually punches me in the face”

and you were really confused

but didn’t fight wonwoo when he took your hand in his and guided you away from the apartment and to your usual coffee shop for you to have breakfast together

he told you everything over a plate of warm croissants and two iced americanos

his cheeks were tinted pink and he’s smiling in embarrassment, but his voice didn’t falter

because talking to you felt natural, as if he had been doing it for a long time

and you feel the exact same way

so you didn’t say anything when he held your hand over the table as you both talked about how funny mingyu must’ve looked when wonwoo went off at him

his cheeks were tinted red the whole time

that doesn’t change as you start going out

because even when he’s your boyfriend, you so much look in his direction and his face is flushed red

talking about that, nobody knew the two of you were dating at first

except for your (now traumatized) best friend

so when the boys were hanging out at mingyu’s apartment and you came out of wonwoo’s room with you very flustered boyfriend walking behind you, everybody was like ???

and it didn’t help that mingyu saw the two of you and went “not when i’m around for gods sake”

the boys looked so confused when wonwoo was like “oh, we’re dating”

because some of them knew you

“wait so... mingyu’s best friend... and his roomate...” followed by a giggle from the one and only yoon jeonghan

and a very loud whine from mingyu hehe

the tall puppy you call your best friend lays off it a few days afterwards

he’s still a little scared of wonwoo but it’s okay to him, because your boyfriend often uses it to his advantage

like the the time the two of you were cuddling on the couch, each with a book of your own, and mingyu kept going on and on about how the three of you should go out for some ice cream

and wonwoo stared at him like he did that one morning

“you know what? maybe jihoon wants to go get ice cream, enjoy the rest of your day”

but anyways

your relationship with wonwoo is really, really, really domestic

like the two of you spend way more time just cooking together and having deep-ass conversations in his bed while cuddling than anything else

one of your favorite things to do is laze around in sweatpants and hoodies while reading and listening to music

because if you basically lived in wonwoo’s apartment as mingyu’s best friend, you spend even more time there now that wonwoo’s your bf

he even cleared out one of his drawers for you because you kept on leaving clothes there every time you spent the night

mingyu even added you to the “neighbors!” chat after declaring you their unofficial third roommate lol 

you also go on plenty coffee dates

especially before class

and then when you get to your shared classes, hand in hand, people are like ??? were they dating ??? but don’t dwell on it too much bc you two do go along like two peas in a pod

study dates in which you two DO study but also have a great time

because you’re listening to music and helping each other revise over some snacks

talking about music, he’s always making you playlists

he’d literally be listening to any song and think of you, so he’d have like 15 playlists full of songs that “sound like you”, as he says

you’re always cracking jokes around the other

and people don’t get it sometimes

but you always do

so when you’re around the guys and woo cracks a joke that no one laughs at but you, he feels rather happy?

i mean he’s always like 🥰🥰🥰 anyways so

boy dresses so comfortably

that if you ever get to wear something of his, you’d be in heaven

he’s pretty tall ? and broad ? so his clothes fit you so so comfortably

and he gets super shy whenever you do but it also makes him so happy

especially if someone else notices

like if you go out late for dinner with him and gyu and wear something of his and mingyu goes like “isn’t that wonwoo’s hoodie?”, boy goes like 🥰🥰🥰 once more

i feel like the two of you don’t necessarily flaunt your relationship

since he’s pretty shy i don’t think he’d be into pda

but you’re always super close to each other

and if he feels comfortable enough, he’d hold your hand or put his arm around your shoulders

if you ever go on a night out together though

oh boy hehe

prepare for wonwoo’s hands to be on you at all times

especially when you’re both a little tipsy and in the middle of the dance floor

all of the guys would look be low-key scared at how close wonwoo and you are grinding dancing, completely lost in the music (and each other)

because it’s so much closer than what they’d ever imagine coming from the two of you

which prompted mingyu to be super awkward around you two for the following days hehe

talking about that, mingyu basically flees the apartment he hears even the faintest noise coming out of wonwoo’s bedroom

and idk i feel like, opposite to his usually quiet nature, he’d be pretty vocal in bed

super into dirty talk don’t even fight me on this

it’s more like super amped praising than actual dirty talk but still

loves it when you ride his thigh

loves it when you ride him in general

idk i feel like the two of you would have a sex playlist

and the songs on there are suuuuuper sensual

so it’s not like you’re going at it wildly but it’s... really intimate and ~spicy~

super into holding hands and kissing you so damn hard as he gets close

he once tried to give you a strip-tease but went super shy right in the middle of it and you never spoke of it again lmao

i feel like wonwoo would be a super romantic lover

not the type of romantic that recites poems and buys you flowers every day or anything

but the way he kisses you when there’s nobody else around, and you feel like it’s only the two of you in the whole world

and the way he looks at you, with so much love and adoration it almost makes you cry

and the way he holds you at night, so close to him you can literally listen to his heartbeat 

and the way he opens up to you when you’re alone in his apartment and goes “i just... i never thought a love like this would even be real, you know?" 

he literally never gets enough of you

but it’s okay, because you don’t either

[qvid-pro-qvo]

i can’t hold you now (and god, it kills me)

rafael barba x female!reader. based on “townhouse incident (season 17, episode 10).”

word count: 12,500

rating: mature, for the pain that comes when someone you love is just out of reach (canon-typical mentions of rape, and tw: vivid depictions of assault and rapes in progress, blood, guns, hostage situation. not fun).

-

The call from Liv isn’t exactly unexpected – you’re about halfway across town to pick her up anyway, and you’d shot her a text that had gone unanswered about her preferred coffee order. The day is for the two of you. However, the request is an odd one, or at the very least, inconvenient.

You hadn’t anticipated the invitation, and like a lot of things in SVU, it came last minute. If anything, you’d thought Dodds would’ve gotten the invite, considering that he was her sergeant. But, something about your interest in the technical aspects of the jobs, the medical aspects of the jobs, hell, the lab as a whole, had caught Liv’s eye, and so when these innovations came up, a new way to look at DNA, your name was always on the list. It was an honor, and spending the day with the lieutenant never disappointed.

You answer her call with a smile. “Hey, I’m on my way, I promise. I just needed the caffeine boost for another day of lectures,” you tell her. Your voice is light, and the clock in your car tells you that there’s plenty of time. “Like, ten minutes?”

Your boss’s little chuckle is light, but there’s something strained in it. “Not a big fan of those seats personally, but. We’ve got to make a stop first.”

You reach down for your iced coffee, taking a long gulp. The sweetness on your tongue makes you smile, mainly because you can see Barba wincing at the sugary mess you insist on downing.

Rafael Barba. The A.D.A. for the Special Victims Unit, the transfer from Kings County, Harvard Law graduate, Bronx native… and your boyfriend. Even thinking it makes you smile around your straw.

It’d started off like anything else, you and Rafael. Meeting in the squad room after you’d joined up. Bickering and squabbling, different people with different worldviews in high stress situations. The amount of times Liv’s eyes had rolled at the two of you bickering could’ve broken world records. (Amanda was known for leaving the room with her hands up in the air when the two of you got particularly biting, especially if Carisi was added like a cherry on top.)

But then you’d watched him soften. Watched his way with the victims soften, watched his eyes soften. Watched squabbling and bickering turned into standing side-by-side and making snide comments from the other side of one-way glasses. Energy against turned into energy together, and the two of you became a duo that could convince a defendant of anything in those interrogation rooms.

(“At least they’re being productive,” Fin had snarked to Liv, as the two of them watched the interrogation unfold. “Last time they fought paperwork got held up for a week just to spite him.”)

And then the other shoe dropped, as it always did, with a case.

Squabbling turned into standing over his desk, facing him down over a file. You’d stared at him, eyes narrowed, hands gripping his mahogany desk.

“I will not stand by while people we promised to protect are thrown aside in the name of the law.” Your voice hadn’t even dared to waver, and he had stared right back.

His eyes had scanned you. Up, down. Narrowed, sharp, and you braced yourself for the return volley. And then he’d stared right back.

His hand reached out to cover yours. Squeezed it.

“Trust me. Neither will I.”

(The first kiss didn’t happen, then, but it came pretty soon after.)

Rafael’s a good boyfriend, even though sometimes his work prevents him from being as attentive as you know he wants to be. But there’s a catch, because there’s always a catch – you haven’t exactly told anyone yet.

At first it’d been just because it was easier. Because how can you tell the squad what you are when you don’t even know? But when long nights turned into early mornings, and conversations turned serious, it became the only way. To protect yourself, to protect the team, you needed to keep it separate. These two things could not mix, or else disaster would surely come of it.

(“I don’t even want to think about what Carisi will say,” he’d told you one night, fingers running down your arm, and you’d snorted before rolling over to kiss him, shut him up.)

So the now is like this: the day ends, he’s Rafael, and he teases you and tempts you and kisses you. The day begins anew, and he’s back to Barba, and you have to settle for good enough.

Even though he’s more, all you can be is colleagues in the squad room, in interrogations, during debriefs with Liv. Any affection you want to show has to be bottled up until those precious moments alone. It’s exhausting, but worth it, getting to know Rafael, and getting to really, truly care for him.

You shake your head, forcing your thoughts back to the present. You finish your sip, raise a brow. “What kind of stop?”

“A favor.”

You slowly pull up to a red light. The coffee is down. The phone is in the passenger seat and jolts at little at the stop, so you reach for it, turn the speaker off. When you hold it up to your ear you can catch the little things: the rustle of Olivia’s hair against the microphone, Lucy’s voice behind her, something that sounds a lot like Noah babbling.

“What’s up?” You shift in your seat, suddenly very aware of the gun on your hip.

“Lucy works with another family, asked us to check in one them. Said the mother had bruises around her neck, shooed her away after saying that the kid was sick and the husband yelled at her.” Liv’s voice is tense, and you feel your shoulders rise a little. Your jaw clenches, too. “So, can you pick me up?”

Domestic violence cases always have your anger flaring, the thought of those victims stuck and unable to get out. Your sigh is short, sad. “Yeah. I’ll grab you and we’ll head over.”

“Thanks.” She signs off, and suddenly the sugar in your coffee feels like it’s churning in your gut.

For a moment your hand runs over your phone’s screen. Wakes it up from its brief sleep, ready to text Barba – to text Rafael – the update. Might be a little late. Favor called in. But then the light turns green, and you toss your phone to the side, sighing.

You’ll do it later. After the visit. When all is said and done.

-

Olivia knocks. It’s loud, repetitive, sure to get the attention of whoever’s home. Your hands slide into the pockets of your jacket, your toe tapping on the concrete.

“Did Lucy say anything else?” you ask your boss, but before she can answer the door opens. Slowly, carefully, and you find yourself looking over every detail the woman who peeks out offers.

She looks exhausted, first of all. Her eyes are watery, and you can clearly see the bruising. One hand is holding the door open, the other hidden. You wonder if there’s bruising there, too, and your hands in your pockets clench into fists at the thought of someone hurting her.

“Hi, Lisa.” Your boss greets. Her smile is small, but there’s something urgent in the way she does the same scan. “Olivia Benson.”

“Right, Noah’s mom,” Lisa responds, and she’s quick to tell them that Lucy’s not there.

Liv has perfected the concerned friendliness, and her head tilts a little at the assumption. “Well, actually, I stopped by to speak with you.” With a gesture to you, Liv introduces you as a friend, and you offer your warmest smile.

“Hi, Mrs. Crivello,” you say. “How’re you doing?”

“Well, Luca’s sick, so – so it’s not really a good time,” she stammers out, and you glance towards your lieutenant, who seems unfazed. When you look back, though, you see the injuries add up. The span of the bruises. The little marks on her face.

“You have a little cut, over your eye,” you tell her. Your hand starts moving to your bag for something to dab at it, clean it up.

But Lisa just shakes her head. She looks even more teary, close to letting them fall as she pulls back a little from the door. “I should go…”

Again, Liv just looks at her, and you see her brow furrow for a moment. “Well… how about we come back later? Is that all right?”

Suddenly the two of you hear a voice from behind the mother. It’s quiet, but firm.

“Let them in.”

It’s like a switch is flicked. The uncertainty gives way, and suddenly, Lisa acquiesces. Glances down at her feet for a second before opening the door wide, and the two of you smile at her as you’re let into the apartment. But your eyes see almost nothing before something clocks you in the back of the head, and you hear Liv’s cry as she’s shoved back against the door.

There’s a clatter, but the room doesn’t go black. The hit just grazes you, fortunately and unfortunately, and you stumble forward into arms that are anything less than welcoming. A woman has Lisa, a guy with sweat on his brow has Liv against the door, and a third is the one who’s grabbing you. Your vision is blurry, and your ears are ringing, but you can see Liv lift her hands, see her look both of the captors in the eye.

There’s another girl, you realize. She’s young, a teenager, and when your eyes meet hers you can see her tears. The whole room comes into some kind of focus, and when you take it in your heart starts to sink.

Oh, fuck, what did the two of you get yourselves into?

Instincts start kicking in quick, even in your daze. Your hands test the strength of the guy behind you, which makes his grip turn bruising, and you hear the shouts of the men as they tell the two of you to drop your bags.

“Who the hell is she?!” one of them hisses, and your whole body shivers at the feeling of breath on your neck. “Who are they?!”

“My name is Olivia Benson.” There’s a shake in her voice, the adrenaline, the high, and your eyes blink a few times to focus in on her.

“Liv –“ you call out, but her eyes meet yours suddenly. She glares, and you go quiet, once again feeling those hands tighten on you. It’s as good as an order from her.

“We’re here by chance, okay, but the both of us are New York City police officers.”

The panic on them in clear, and you feel one of the hands holding you start to roam against your waist.

“Fuck, man, this one’s armed,” says the man holding you, and Olivia just sighs, nodding.

“I am, too. Okay? I am, too. I’m telling you now, do you understand?”

“Ralph,” the guy next to Liv says sharply. He’s jittery, and you see a bead of sweat drip down his brow. “Come take this.”

Your guy just stammers out something. “But I’ve got her, Joe.”

There’s no warning, from Ralph or from Joe. One moment, you’re being held to keep from struggling, and the next there’s another hit, this one against your temple. Liv’s voice is the last thing you hear as you crumple, and your mind goes blank, the room going dark.

-

When you stumble to consciousness again, it’s to the sound of sobbing. Your head is slumped forward, and the taste in your mouth is copper.  

“Fuck,” you hiss. Every movement feels like fire, and when you blink your eyes open it’s to see one of the men, Joe, jostling the teenage girl in his arms, they’re moving towards another room. She’s screaming, Liv and Joe are talking, and Roxie is yelling. The cacophony of her voice and everyone else’s makes you wince and groan again.

“Roxie, this is on you. Let me in there,” Olivia all but snarls, and you see her get clocked across the face. Watch her stumble, get shoved on the bed. You’re pinned to the bed, you realize, as you try to reach for your lieutenant. Tied around it, your ass on the hardwood floor.

“Liv,” you whisper, and your voice makes her pause. You’re awake, after all. But the look she shoots you is sharp. She wants you to let her handle it, you realize. Throw herself in the line of fire.

Yeah, you think to yourself, unlikely without your company.

Joe. Ralph. Roxie. The trio that broke in. Ralph is… gone, now, nowhere in sight, and… where’s Lisa? Your eyes blink a few more times, the sounds around you ratcheting up to full volume as you wake.

There’s someone else here, another voice, so painfully young. A memory swims to the surface as your head swivels from side to side – Lucy takes care of their boy.

Liv hasn’t moved since she got hit, hasn’t said a thing, but the screams are raucous. They make your head spin, and Roxie only adds to it when her frustration reaches her limit.

“Can’t you just shut up? God, make him shut up,” Roxie snarls, and you blearily blink so you could turn to look at Liv. Her eyes are like daggers at the woman, who looks frantic at the noises Luca is making, the sound of… his sister…

Begging for his own sister’s life.

God. You feel sick, and combined with the concussion you’re trembling.

“You’re gonna need to untie me to do that, aren’t you?” your boss almost whispers. She’s frustrated, pulling at her restraints as her will battles Roxie’s. “Please, I’m not going to do anything stupid, just let me help the boy.”

When you look back at Roxie, she looks helpless. Even with the gun in her hand. And when she moves to untie Luca and Liv, cutting off her restraints, the sigh of relief you let out is audible, even with Roxie’s whisper threat over your head.

So Liv goes. Goes to Luca, quiets him, and her voice is so gentle. It makes your lower lip tremble, the way she cradles him against her, reaches for his iPad so he can send the world away. He doesn’t deserve this, not even a little, but Liv is there for him anyway.

Leaving you to stare down Roxie.

“You wanted this?” you mutter, and the woman’s attention shoots to you, her gun shaking ever so slightly in her hand. “It’s on you, like she said. All of this, right now.”

“Shut up,” she snaps, and Liv looks up, too, lifting from her spot next to Luca, who is thankfully engrossed in a movie.

“This can’t be the way you wanted things to go down,” she adds, and she’s able to stand to her full height, dwarf the woman who looks nothing more than a girl. Uncertain, even in her arguments.

“You don’t know me,” Roxie snaps back, and you scoff, shaking your head.

“I wouldn’t want to, if you’re fine with your boyfriend raping a sixteen-year-old girl,” you hiss. Her gun shifts between the two of you, Olivia staring her down, you glaring up from your spot on the bed. “Do you even hear that? Do you hear what he’s doing to her, that sick son of a –”

“Well, Joe does Joe, and I do me, so you better sit down.”

“You can save yourself,” Liv tries, but the girl just raises her voice, pulls back. You duck your head to hide the frustration on your features, the clench of your teeth as Liv’s phone chimes.

When Roxie moves to it, you look up at your lieutenant, who spares a glance down at you. You must look a mess, because you can feel the slow throb of your temple, the stickiness of your hair that’s surely from blood. You can smell it, on you, but even after all of it, you offer a smile. A small grimace. And when Liv turns toward Roxie again, her toe taps yours.

“Who’s Lucy?”

Liv freezes. You see her shoulders tense, and for the first time since you’ve woken up another name dances across your mind. Noah. Oh, god. All of this, and Liv has Noah, and your stomach rolls again.

Your boss is quick. Her minds works, and as you blow hair out of your face she’s reaching for the phone.

“She’s my sitter. She’s also Luca’s sitter, and she needs to talk to me. She needs to know about my son’s daycare pickup.”

Wait. Pickup? It’s… it’s what, 11:00 in the morning? Your mind swirls with confusion, but in shock you realize that Roxie is handing her the phone, that Roxie is letting her text back. Your eyes widen, and quickly you duck your head.

It’s almost in prayer, you realize. With your hands tied behind you, with the feel of them going numb against the metal that’s hot from your own body heat.

Please, Lucy. Whatever she tells you. Get it to the right people.

Suddenly, a face swims to mind, and your eyes widen, blinking away the sudden rush of tears. Liv is surely thinking about her son, but all you can think about is Rafael.

Please, Rafael. Please be the right person.

-

The wake-up call in the morning is a text, and Rafael Barba blinks blearily at the message. It’s almost habit that makes his lip curl up in a smile, and when he throws off the sheets it’s with a preparedness for the morning he almost never has.

Perhaps it’s just the expectation of coffee. These huge events usually have a few cups for him to help himself, too, and he knows the sight of him downing them will make your lip curl in disgust. Or maybe it’s the knowledge, knowing that going to this DNA conference will make him a better lawyer, a better advocate for the victims.

Or maybe, it’s just that the text is from you.

You’d been a surprise, when you’d met him. A veritable source of conflict on one hand, with snappy words soothed by smiles. A disregard for the courtroom, in more ways than one. A capable detective, who had a tendency to follow instinct whether it helped or hurt. At least, that’d been the pitch.

Of course, because it was Rafael, the start had been shaky. Bickering and bantering over everything and nothing. More than once Liv had to shut the two of you up with a raised hand and a raised brow, since gut collided with a man who wore suspenders and a belt.

(“If the two of you don’t get it together, I’m throwing both of you out,” she’d threatened one eventful evening, her voice very reminiscent of the tone she took with Noah. An unsteady peace was made through the end of the week.)

But just like the squad, just like Rollins, and Carisi, and Liv, all it took was one case.

One case to turn the tide.

From there, it’d grown. Moments alone, somehow snagged against all odds. Him and you in a side room in the courthouse, talking about deals. Visits to his office to break the monotony, banter and bribe with snack to take a break. You became a friend, first and foremost, and from there it slotted into place.

Didn’t take long for him to realize just how much he’d fallen for you. A kiss sealed the deal, Rafael finally working on instinct. But while the short-term was brilliant, the long-term was more… complex.

The ADA, together with a detective. Complicated to say the least, a disaster waiting to happen at most. But how could he stay away, knowing that you had a smile that was just for him? Eventually, the two of you had agreed – it would be a secret, from the squad, from the office. The only people that needed to know were you and him.

On the outside, you did your best to treat him like everyone else, treat him like before. Banter and bicker and bite. You’d slug him in the arm same as Carisi, and you laugh with him like you do Rollins, and you roll your eyes with him and Fin as the perps incriminate themselves.

But when the two of you were alone… when you knew you were alone…

Of course, that doesn’t mean that he can’t enjoy the thought of spending time with you even at work, can’t enjoy your morning texts in the privacy of his own apartment. Today is the DNA conference, after all, which is why your text isn’t surprising. He expects to see you there, you and Liv. You send him your itinerary, which matches his almost to the letter, and he thinks about you as he thinks about what to wear, thinks about you as he pours himself his coffee, and thinks to stop thinking about you as he pulls up to the conference.

And then… you’re nowhere to be found.

He double-checks the schedule you and Liv have planned out. It’s intricate, but there are overlaps. And in those sessions, he sits, thinks about saving a seat. But there’s no further texts, nothing, and that makes the lectures a bit harder to get through. He’s almost thankful for the text from Carisi, the one that pulls him up and out of his chair and out the door. Because surely this is what’s keeping you.

Got the push-in rapist.

When Rafael makes it to the precinct and immediately grabs a cup of coffee.

“What do we have?” he asks Dodds, who is the first to greet him. Not you. Or Liv. He gets filled in by the new sergeant, and by the time they make it to the one-way glass he’s noticed that the two of you are nowhere to be found. It makes his brow furrow, but soon he’s leaning against the window, watching as the man inside starts fidgeting.

“He was on top of the roof, got trapped. Had the weapon on him, too, tossed aside. It was clean,” the sergeant tells him, and Barba can’t help the lift of his brow.

“We’re sure?” he asks, letting the doubt creep in, and Dodds’ eyes narrow at the ADA.

Fin backs him up, arms crossed over his chest. “It was clean, Barba. We got him.”

There’s a bit of relief, and tension in Rafael’s shoulders drop. Fin joins the two of them in front of the window, and he nods at him. He takes a sip of his coffee, and the steps that stalk towards the squad are distinctly unfamiliar.

“Well, congratulations. You found another innocent black man.” The defense attorney is vaguely familiar, and his eyes scan the three of them with disdain (and some kind of sick glee at his own taunts). “I suppose we should be grateful that you didn’t shoot him.”

“He had a gun on him,” Fin says, no flair, just facts.

“Did he?” is the return, and Rafael looks between the two sides, brow raised. “Who planted it?”

That’s when the ADA decides then he doesn’t have time for this, and he lets his scoff sound over his coffee cup.

“Don’t troll. This is your client’s third rape. We have multiple IDs.” He says it with a confidence that he rarely gets to have, and it feels good to be able to reply with the knowledge that DNA will match, IDs will be made. Dodds again affirms the presence of DNA, forensics, and that’s that.

It could all go horribly wrong, of course, but he still has time to relish just a little in the assurances provided.

“Save it for the judge. May I?” The public defender moves smoothly into the interrogation room, and Barba watches him for a few moments before turning to Dodds again.

“Nice work.” Frank, but honest. And straight to the point. “Where’s Liv and Y/N?” he asks, casually, paired with another sip of coffee. There’s no urgency, even as he hopes that Dodds has some idea why you bailed.

But the sergeant seems unbothered, and Fin pipes up as he stands up straight, hands in his pockets. “They’re both still at the DNA conference.”

Barba stops. Pushing off of the window, stands up straight. Looks at the two officers in front of him. Smirks a little. Not a prank, he guesses. Something else came up, surely. “No, they’re not. I was there all morning. I would’ve seen them.” He doesn’t confirm how he knows he would’ve seen them, the texts from you on the cell in his pocket, but he does know that the two of you were nowhere to be seen.

And… well. That certainly catches the two of them by surprise. Dodds looks at Fin, and Fin looks back at Dodds.

“I’ll text her again,” Dodds decides. “Let’s wrap this case up, get it delivered to her signed, sealed.”

But at that point, there’s still a hesitant peace. A certainty that whatever is wrong will be resolved, wherever Liv is she’s there for a reason. Rafael finds himself hoping the same thing for you, hoping you are not far behind her, that soon enough your voice will be heard down the hall, in the elevator, your laugh pitched high among all else.

And then, the peace shatters.

“Guys, we’ve got a problem here.” Carisi’s voice is sharp, tight. His strides are long, and soon he’s across the precinct, at Fin’s desk. “Liv just texted this to Lucy, and… it’s bad news.”

Rafael’s brows inch up his head. His mind goes to the solution that’s obvious – that Carisi is overreacting. That nothing’s as wrong as the Fordham student says it is. He doesn’t even lift his pen from the paper.

And then Fin reads.

“Stuck at precinct all day. Pick up William at daycare. He has a playdate with Lewis and Y/N today.”

In a moment Barba finds his head spinning. He lifts up, looks around the room at the other men, watching as their own minds piece together the information.

William Lewis. Just the thought of him sets Barba’s teeth on edge, sets his body alight. He has to straighten so he can wrap his mind around the implication.

“William Lewis?” he repeats. Well. Says, out loud. “That’s… that’s not good.” But he remains calm. He has to remain calm. His voice is steady, even as it wants to tremble. “When did you last hear from them? From Liv?”

Barba tries to keep his cool, but he can’t ignore the way his heart is pounding. Can’t ignore the way that he turns to Dodds again. “Have you spoken to them today?” he urges, and the sergeant jaw is clenched as Rafael reaches for the phone Fin has in his hand.

His eyes scan the words. Over and over, just to confirm. He can’t help but hope against hope that Fin read it wrong, but everything is there, in black in white in front of his face. There’s a growing dread in the pit of his stomach.

“I sent Liv a text, let her know we got the push-in rapist,” the sergeant explains. “She responded.”

“Same with Y/N. I texted her, earlier, and I got a reply,” Fin tells Barba, but there’s still something that’s got him on edge.

“But did you talk to them? Hear their voices?” He hopes the others can’t hear the break in his voice, the worry in his tone. “You didn’t actually speak to them?”

The silence is deafening.

For once, he and Carisi are on the same page. Their eyes meet over Fin’s desk. “That sounds like a 10-13 if I’ve ever heard one. It’s gotta be. Lucy said that Liv checked on a neighbor this morning?”

Dodds’ voice cuts through before Rafael’s can. “Where?”

The four men find themselves all turning to the nanny, who stands off to the side. Her worry, that brought her to the precinct in the first place, seems close to crashing over her.

“Go find out.” It’s not an order, not really, but it leaves Barba’s mouth before he can stop it. And without a second to waste, Dodds and Carisi step towards Lucy, while Barba looks down to his own phone.

It’s instinct. One tap, two, three, and there’s your name. His thumb sweeps over the screen before he presses dial, and within an instant his phone is at his ear. He’s dialed your number, what feels like hundreds of times, but the ringing stretches on and on and on. Each time it goes off, he expects the call to connect, for you to tease about calling during work hours. Can’t get enough of me at work, Barba?

When he hears your voice, he starts, wants to feel that relief, but the automated message is the only thing that’s going. His heart climbs into his throat.

One more time. He pulls back, taps a couple of times. Another call, this time to Liv. The same thing. Ringing, ringing, ringing. Message.

Nothing. He tries both numbers again, with all eyes on him, with the same result.

Two of them. Two of their own. Gone without a trace. And all Barba can think about is the name William Lewis, and the sight of it so close to your own.

Nausea rolls, and he tries one more time.

“Barba,” Fin tells him. Reaches out, fingers on his desk. “Barba.”

When he looks down, Fin’s eyes are piercing him. There’s something in them, something that makes the lawyer think the old blood knows more than he ever lets on. That Fin knows exactly what the day looks like now, and what the next case will be.

“Find out,” he manages, and tries not to think about how he’s dialed your number yet again, the sound of your automated message the definition of insanity.

-

Your phone is in Roxie’s hand. It buzzes, over and over again, and then the same thing happens with Liv’s phone on the chair next to her. Your captor watches it, reads the name and then the notifications on your own phone. There’s a back and forth, a pause, and then she looks at the two of you with confusion.

“Barba keeps calling. And this guy, Rafael. Why?”

Your breath catches. Liv is on the bed, her feet planted next to you, and you hear her words, vaguely. Something about work.

Then you realize Roxie is staring at you, raising a brow your direction. You swallow, blink a few times. Clear your head, offer a tight smile.

“Just… probably calling to ask about a case. Let it ring. He’ll get the… the message,” you say, and her eyes narrow at you before setting your phone down.

You feel Liv’s toe tap your leg. When you look up at her, her eyes catch yours, and you feel her gaze sweep over your face before you shake your head.

Not now, Liv.

She taps your leg again, but you refuse to rise to the bait, and that’s when the door bursts open.

Joe says something, but his voice fades away. All you can see is the girl, the way her face is vacant now. The faraway look, in her eyes, and your chest tightens at the sight of her hair, limp around her face.

Your sympathy turns to anger in an instant, as she limps over to the bed. Liv’s voice is soft to the girl, but your mouth twists into a sneer as you look up at Joe, who sneers right back.

“What are you looking at?” he scoffs, and the rage is blinding.

“Untie me and you’ll find out,” you shoot back.

“Playing hero, huh?” Roxie spits, but Joe beats her to it, glancing toward your phone.

“Got someplace you gotta be? Someone at home waiting for a detective who’ll never come back?” His threat isn’t lost on you, and your instinct is gone, replace with the impulse to lash out, kick at his legs.

A third tap, a warning shot, but it’s too late. Joe reaches for your collar, and Liv’s hands reach out to stop him, press against his chest as he lunges.

“You’re okay, Joe, it’s fine,” she urges, and his mouth goes a little agape as he stumbles back.

“What the hell, Roxie? What is she doing untied?”

“She was helping with Luca –” you snap, just as Roxie says that Liv isn’t going anywhere.

“If she does, she’ll never see her son again,” Joe sneers, and he moves to retie Liv just as there’s another phone ring. But it’s not Rafael, and it’s not your squad. It’s the third wheel, it’s Ralph, and you watch as Joe’s anger is stoked again. It’s like watching a train you know is going to crash, your eyes drawn to the disaster as it happens. Joe’s frustration is only peaked by Lisa’s demands, and your admiration for the will of a mother is tempered by the way that Joe’s voice grinds on his last sentence.

“Now get the cash, or they’re dead.”

One thing after another. Your head, still pounding, can barely keep up, your energy gone from the kick. There’s a ring at the doorbell, and Joe’s corralling Tess downstairs. You strain to listen, to hear anything, but the muffled voices aren’t ones you can recognize. When Tess comes back up, she’s shaky, and Joe screaming at her doesn’t help.

“They were cops! What the hell did you say?!”

Cops? you think to yourself, and for a moment images of your team swims across your vision. Oh, god.

“Nothing, I just told him Luca and I were sick!”

Joe’s pacing now, and Liv is standing. She reaches out for them, and her voice is so strong, so calm. You’re still on the bed, attached, but you force yourself to breath in and out, to look up at Joe with Liv and try to talk him down.

“Now is the time for you guys to go,” she whispers.

“You need to stop talking,” Joe hisses, but your voice chimes in before he can think too much.

“This is only the beginning,” you add. It’s what you have to do. Make him think, make them second guess. Your hands pull at your restraints to no avail, and you huff out a breath to move the hair in your eyes. “You guys should get out of here, while you still can.”

“What do you mean?” Roxie asks, but she’s silenced by Joe. Your anger at him only grows at the way he grips her tight, enough to bruise her wrists.

“They are cops – both of them, do you fucking hear me? She is lying to you, and everything that comes from her mouth is a lie.”

“Joe, there is no perimeter,” Liv urges. “Look outside. There’s no one out there. If you sneak out the back, they won’t find out who you are.”

The conversation ends with one last word from Joe. A knife in his hand pointing at all you, even Roxie. “And we’re not going anywhere until we got the money.”

The next hour is ruthless. Your concussions settle in, and you keep having to force your eyes open as Liv moves to sit next to you. The lights and the sirens are relentless, and every so often you can’t help the groan that leaves your lips at the pain.

Liv’s at the bed, too, with Tess and Luca, and a hand reaches out to you. You hear Luca’s voice, soft and gentle. “Is she gonna be alright?” he asks your boss, and before she can answer you look up at them with a shaky smile.

“Hey, buddy. Yeah. I’m – I’m fine. Just. Just got a bit of a headache. Go back to your movie, okay?”

You try to ignore the way that Liv’s hand presses on your shoulder, the way you can feel her urge for calm through the touch. Try to forget that for a few minutes, that’s the only thing grounding you, her fingers on your skin and the knowledge that your friends are out there. Your family.

And Joe? Joe’s on the edge. His fingers keep messing with the blinds, keep pulling them down and shoving them aside when the sight of the cops steadily piling into the street overwhelms him. You watch his hands go to his hair, pull, and drop back down to his sides, watch his sweat drip down his forehead. He looks manic, he looks pissed, and Roxie’s whispered doubts only do that much more to drive him mad.

“Let Richard go,” Liv urges, at one point. “Let the kids go. Keep me – I’m your best asset.”

Oh, no, you don’t, Liv, you think. Not while you’ve got Noah.

“Keep me,” you press. Your hands are still tied, so you push forward with your shoulders. “I’ll do whatever you need to do, but if you let the kids go, if you let Richard go, use me as a bargaining chip.”

“Y/N,” Liv warns, but you pull forward again, the zip-tie digging into your skin.

“They won’t come after you if I’m inside,” you urge. “Liv’ll make sure of that. Keep me, Joe. Keep me, and… and I can get you out of here.”

But before you can push anymore, Joe is shaking his head. Roxie looks frantic, and their voices drown each other out.

“Just shut up!” is the shriek that stops her, but Liv is reaching out to him again.

“Joe. Just let the kids go.”

“Will they stand down?” Joe snaps, suddenly, at Liv. You sigh out a groan, as Liv just shakes her head. “No. Not unless they hear it from you. You’ll call them, tell them to stand down. You’re going to get us out of here.”

“Joe, they’re not going to stand down,” Liv tries, but soon her phone’s in her hand, anyway, and there’s a gun to your head. You wince, tears springing to your eyes as you squeeze them shut. Liv’s voice catches in her throat.

“There’s – there’s no need for that, Joe –“

“But I’m not playing. Call them.”

“Okay. I’m calling my sergeant. Speaker is on.”

When the gun is pulled from your head you realize you’ve been holding your breath. You gasp for air, and when the phone call goes through, Mike’s answer is drowned out by your own breathing.

At the mention of a negotiator, he loses it. There doesn’t seem to be anything that doesn’t set him off, and Roxie can’t calm him.

“No, I want to get out of here,” he snaps, and your voice comes out raw.

“We have to negotiate, Joe.” You’re begging him, begging him to see reason. “We have to, if you want to survive.”

Liv fills in the gaps. “You have a family in here, Joe. You have two police officers in here. They will burst in here if you do not negotiate. That is where we are.”

“So – so who do you trust?” the asshole sneers, and the gun points to Liv, nudges against her shoulder. “At the NYPD.”

“My squad,” she responds immediately. Your heart warms, for a moment, before the chill of Joe’s voice freezes it again.

“Oh, no. Someone with more pull.” You watch Joe lean close to Liv, watch his breath puff in her face. “So I’ll fucking ask again. Does anyone at the NYPD care if you both live, or if you die?”

You look up at her. You can see her thinking – her eyebrow twitches for a moment, her gaze drifting over the scene before her.

“What about that Barba guy?” Roxie asks, pointing her gun between the both of them. “He called both of them, he obviously seems to give a shit –”

Your heart climbs so high in your throat you choke on it. Liv’s eyes widen at the suggestion, and thankfully speaks before you can stammer out an indication in the negative. “No. Ed Tucker. He has pull.”

You try to hide your shock, the way his name twists your lips. There’s history there, more than you know, and Liv looks to you, brow furrowing, a silent plea. Something passes, between the both of you, a mutual understanding. About what it means to be someone that either of you care about.

This is what needs to happen. To get the both of you out. The both of you safe, to those who care about you the most.

“Ed Tucker, Joe. He’ll get you what you want.”

-

The street outside the brownstone looks like a battleground – the armored vehicles and lights flashing on closed windows.

Rafael’s steps are quick through the organized chaos, shouts from other officers as they directed the traffic around the area filling his ears, exhaust from engines rising up into the cool air. But there’s no time to linger, catch his bearings. He can only feel lost among the uniforms and bullet-proof vests. There is only the task at hand, the thought of you pushing him to keep one foot in front of the other.

And if his hands start shaking, well, that’s what pockets are for.

He sees Dodds in the distance, the man standing half a head above any others in the area. He makes quick work of the terrain, weaving through armored bodies, and soon he’s beside the man, who greets him with a tense nod.

“Where are we?”

“Ralph Volkov. Assault, drunk driving. Fired by the Crivellos’ after two failed drug tests.” Dodds is to the point. His steps are quick, and Rafael feels like he has to take two keep up with him. They’re on a fast track to the command center, and Rafael tries to ignore the pit in his stomach.

“A revenge plan?” Rafael hisses. It’s in disbelief, in horror. All of this because of some grudge? Your life over a job as a truck driver? “Do we think he’s in charge?”

“He’s not the ringleader. Through here,” Dodds tells him, but before the sergeant can reach for the door the counselor’s voice stops his hand.  

“Dodds. Where… where are we?” When he asks again, he doesn’t mean for his voice to tremble, but it’s fraught with the emotions he knows he’ll need to put away.

The sergeant takes a moment. Ducks his chin, before giving an answer. One without fluff, or pomp, or poise. Just the truth. “As far as we know, they’re both there, conscious. Okay, as of a few minutes ago,” he murmurs. “But we don’t know what okay means. They’re alive. We caught a glimpse of them, both of them, through a second-story window. Some bruising, bleeding. But… the one with the phone is hopped up on something, and. We can’t get a rapport. Not a real one.”

“But we’ve heard them?”

When Dodds glances back, it’s with a sigh. Rafael tenses. “Just Liv. Her phone is the one they’ve been using. To make the calls. But she’s told us that they’re both okay, and I trust that… she knows what she’s doing.”

Rafael’s eyes widen, just a fraction, but Dodds doesn’t see. He’s already pushing forward, into the armored truck, leaving the lawyer’s thoughts scrambled. Your voicemail message seems to sing in his head. But the spiraling has to stop, and so he forces himself forward, through the door, chin lifted and steps long.

He can see him, at the end. One of the assholes responsible for taking you, for beating you. His shoulders straighten, and that fury is used to stalk close, tilt his chin down and glare. His presence makes the man shrink, and he relishes in that pleasure.

“Hello, Ralph. I’m Assistant District Attorney Rafael Barba. Who’s we?”

He’s pathetic, the man in front of him. Voice a mumbled mess, clothes dirty. His hands are cuffed in front of him, and he can barely look Rafael in the eye. But he answers, slowly, blinking up at the lawyer. “Me and my sister, Roxie. We needed money, for my ma, she. She needs a new hip, she can hardly walk.

Dodds says something. Rafael’s mind is on the name. Roxie. Roxie. Roxie and Ralph, the fucking dynamic duo.

Suddenly Ralph is pushing back. “Yeah, but she didn’t want to hurt anyone either. And Joe came along. All of this was his idea, man, not ours.”

Rafael takes a seat. He’s level with this guy, and it makes him sick to his stomach. “Uh-huh.” His voice is hoarse. Bitter. “Joe’s his real name?”

The man doesn’t respond, seems to shrink back, and Rafael finds his temper flaring, his voice going sharp. His hand reaches out to snap under the man’s nose. He sits down, and the only place he’s looking is at the dumb son of a bitch in front of him. “Ralph. Look at me. Anyone dies in there, you’re on the hook for felony murder.” He doesn’t want to think about you, about your body coming out, not your life. His vision goes a little red, and he leans close with a tight tone. “You help us or you’re gone.”

That seems to get his attention, and Ralph nods, swallowing down his fear. “Joe’s his real name. Joe Utley.”

Fin moves to the laptop quickly, looking at his sergeant. Their glance is exchanged, but Rafael’s mind is fixated on the three names he has. Ralph. Roxie. Joe Utley. All of them responsible for taking you. For taking Liv. He finds himself squeezing his knee under the table, praying for a moment that the crime he prosecutes them for doesn’t have – fuck, doesn’t have murder in the damn headlines.

And then he gets a text from Carisi. His hand goes to Ralph’s phone, next to him, and the latest text shines up. The two kids, huddled together on the bed, Liv to the side, and you… sitting against the bed on the floor, looking up. There’s blood, on your forehead. Some down the side of your neck. Your eyes look glazed, dull, and all the blood drains from his face.

When he holds up the photo, he can barely speak.

“This photo.” His voice is raspy, and his hand is almost shaking. “Is this the last time you had contact with Joe and Roxie?”

Ralph confirms it, and that’s when he has to step away. He just hears a fraction of what Dodds says. It doesn’t matter. It just confirms the filth that has you captive in that fucking building. Has to pull back, take a breath. There’s a fury within him that only builds as Ralph pushes back, refuses to cooperate when you’re inside that damn townhouse –

Fin’s voice cuts through the chaos, goes straight to the point. Tucker and Dodds and Rafael watch on, as the detective leans close, scowls at the perp. “Let me ask you something, man. Do you ever want to see your sister alive again?”

Rafael swallows at that. Looks down at his phone. Can’t watch as Dodds holds up the phone to Ralph, can’t do anything but close his eyes and turn as the hand is dealt.

And then Ralph stammers. There is nothing more useless than a juris doctorate in that moment, watching as the man turns. Admits that he’s caught, that it’s done. Nothing more horrifying than the sound of Joe’s voice on the other end of the line, a furious shout of a curse before the line goes dead. And nothing more nauseating than knowing that whatever happens next, Rafael can’t do a damn thing.

-

“Son of a bitch!” Joe screams, and you can’t help your wince. The noise seems to rattle your brain, and when you open your eyes again the man is leaning on the fireplace.

The four of you – including Liv and the kids – had been moved downstairs as Ralph’s absence stretched longer. And no matter how much you wanted these bastards ended, you couldn’t help your prayer that Joe would just get what he wanted. Anything to keep him sane, to keep him from using one of the kids as a punching bag, or from hurting Liv.

But with Ralph out of the picture, caught by the police… you can’t help but notice the way that your chances get slimmer and slimmer. Your eyes flick toward your lieutenant, the strongest woman you know, and you can’t help but feel the doubt. Doubt that trickles down your cheek with a couple of tears, a mixture of blood and sweat joining it.

And Rafael… your throat closes up at the thought of him, swimming around in the back of your mind. Usually such a comfort, and now the guilt kills you. The knowledge that you’d – fucking hell, that you could’ve seen him for the last…

You have to physically shake your head. Enough that Liv’s hand reaches out for you.

No. You have to see him again. You have to.

Joe and Roxie are yelling now. Back and forth, back and forth, and you want to sink further into your chair but can’t get far enough away. It all bounces in your head, and everything just as you hear Joe’s voice scream into the phone.

“What?”

The silence is deafening. Joe’s ultimatum more so. And then the phone is shoved into your hands, along with a threat for your life, the gun pointed at you.

“Ralph, and the cash, or your pretty little girlfriend dies. Or what about… what about this one? This useless bitch, huh? Not much stopping me from putting a bullet in her head.”

Your energy is used to glare up at the man. You feel Liv freeze beside you as you lift your mouth to the speaker.

“He… he really wants Ralph back in here, Tucker.”

“Yeah. I, uh. Understand that. But that’s not something we can do right now.”

Your head drops. The phone and your hand drop. And Liv’s voice is next to you, soft. “He’s telling you the truth, guys. We’re not allowed to send civilians inside.”

“All right. Then I’m done talking.”

-

There’s a hitch to your breath at the end of Joe’s statement, and Rafael’s hands are limp at his sides. He can picture it so vividly – he knows what Joe looks like. It’s not hard to visualize him lifting a gun and aiming it at you. Barba barely notices he starts to tremble as he anticipates the sound, that one final sound.

Luckily the finality is something that Tucker doesn’t accept. And at the sound of Joe’s request to talk to Ralph.

After all, he knows what that look on Tucker’s face is trying to tell him. He sees the way the man turns to him like he understands. With Liv on the other end, perhaps that’s what he’s hoping to convey. The urgency, the knowledge that he’s doing everything he can.

Little does he know.

There’s yelling, fighting. Tucker tries to talk them down again, but Roxie and Joe on the other end of the line are going off at each other, and then there’s a clatter. The whole room seems to wince at it, and when there’s silence on the line no one can breathe.

“Everybody okay?” Tucker asks. But even when the silence breaks, the tension is still thick. Rafael feels it clawing at his throat. And Liv’s voice on the other end, shaking, makes him lift a hand to his hair.

“Okay. So we know that Ralph’s not coming in here, but do you have his money?”

The trade develops. Slowly. Too slowly, and your name doesn’t come up once. It makes Rafael’s twitch, and by the time the final deal is made, he’s had enough of it. One person. One person, and it’s not you. It’s not you.

The door is opening, and Rafael is gone before he can think. He’s pushing out of the van and starts pacing behind the command center, muttering something to himself. He’s halfway through the recitation when he realizes it’s a prayer, and almost done with it when he sees Carisi just a few feet away, making his way to where Rafael just left.

He doesn’t stop the detective from coming closer. If anything he almost welcomes it. Carisi looks almost as harried as he is, and he can’t help the way his lips twist at the familiarity of Carisi’s “counselor” in his mouth.

“How’s it goin’ in there?” For a first question, Rafael is struck by how little he can bear to answer.

“The… the father’s in bad shape. They’re organizing a trade,” he whispers, and hates the way that his voice cracks. The way he looks up at the row of townhouses and has to swallow his fear so he doesn’t vomit with it.

Suddenly Carisi’s face softens, somehow, even more. He looks at Rafael with pity. And while the counselor wants to bristle at it, he can’t.

“We’ll get them out, counselor,” the blond promises. “We’ll get Liv, and we’ll get them out –”

But when Rafael lifts his hand, it’s to silence him. To just glare, work his jaw, and try not to shatter so completely.

“It’s not just Liv,” he spits, and the admission takes even him by surprise. “It’s not. So. Please, just.”

He doesn’t know what Carisi is seeing when he looks at Rafael in that moment. He doesn’t know what the detective thinks. But no matter all of his words, his teasing, he knows that the man isn’t stupid, and can put the pieces together on a simple puzzle.

Who else is in that fucking room? Who else could the squad lose?

“I can’t lose her.” Carisi’s jaw clenches, his whole body tensing in Rafael’s periphery. But there’s no answer, because the detective isn’t stupid.

Not enough to make empty promises.

-

Mike’s eyes meet yours first when he comes through the door. He reassures Joe that his demands are being met – the money, the car, the goddamn plane – but he can’t stop looking at you. Maybe it’s the blood at your temple, the way your hands are gripping armrests on the chair you’re basically strapped to. Maybe it’s the dazed look in your eye that you’re sure you have, a concussion wreaking havoc on your system. But it doesn’t matter. He can’t help you.

Joe’s orders to strip had made too much sense – forcing them down to the bare essentials to come in and get the father out. But seeing it, seeing how vulnerable Mike it makes your chest hurt, and as he stands before Joe and his fucking assault rifle basically bare, you can’t help your desire to reach out to him.

“Everything is on its way,” Mike tells Joe, meeting his gaze head on – a steady lift of the chin while Joe fidgets.

And then the vests come off, too. And you have to watch Mike leave without any protection, his back so vulnerable, and you have to watch Joe’s eyes follow him, and once he leaves the breath you let out is audible. Audible enough to earn you a glare.

“What?” he snaps, and you just shake your head, offering a smile that feels like

“Nothing, Joe. That was a good thing you just did, letting Richard get the helps he needs,” you tell him.

There’s a beat, and then before you can react he’s lunging forward, his fist and thankfully not the butt of the gun smacking you across the face.

The kids scream, a horrific sound as your head is whipped to the side, eyes closed tight as you groan and try not to look at them.

“I’m – I’m okay…”

“You’re laughing,” he hisses, bending forward. “You’re fucking laughing at me.”

“Joe,” Liv says with a sharp tone. She doesn’t come to you, but her eyes are wide as your body pulls in on itself, barely able to look up and see her through the tears in your eyes.  “Joe, look at me. That was good, getting Richard out of there. The car is… is coming, okay? It is, and… when it’s here we can start working on an exit strategy.”

“I have an exit strategy. For me, and for Roxie,” he snaps. His voice is hoarse from yelling, and then the phone rings again. Joe picks it up, and he’s moving from the hall to the table and back again, the end of the line approaching steadily.

“I’m gonna send someone out to check the car. I want the keys in the ignition, I want the engine running, and I want all those ESU guys gone, y’hear me? I want a clear path!” The phone is tossed away, connection gone, and then Joe’s in front of you again, bending forward, grinning. “About time to make yourself useful.”

“Joe,” Liv murmurs, trying to reach out to him, but the gun is quickly pointing at her.

“Shut up, boss lady!” he snaps. “The both of you are gonna put the vest on Roxie, and then she’s gonna go out there and check the car.”

What else can you do but comply? Joe’s release on your restraints has you stumbling forward, but when Liv goes to get you she’s pushed away by the firearm. You slowly rise to your feet, and there’s blood falling steadily from your nose as you stumble forward.

There’s no affirmation. Joe can only hiss out a curse, and then he’s stumbling away towards the back of the house.

The front of the house feels cold. By the time you make it to Roxie it feels like an eternity, and you and Liv have to get to work buckling her up. You’re so disoriented, the world spinning, that when you realize Liv is talking she’s already halfway there.

“Roxie,” she murmurs. “You can save yourself. You realize that? Right now. your brother is out there, and you don’t have to die. All you have to do is drop to your knees and put your hands up.”

Your hands are finally free. It feels good being able to roll your wrists, but you can barely focus as you realize you’re looking up into Roxie’s eyes. Your brain stumbles through its recollection, and when you do manage to speak it’s small. Soft. So Joe can’t hear.

“Save yourself, and your brother, Roxie, okay?” you whisper. “Get out of here. For him, you understand.”

“Just – just shut up,” she snaps, and Liv buckles her in.

It’s torture watching her leave. Joe’s back now, and the phone is at his hear, while Liv’s at the window, watching. But the light from outside makes your head spin. All you can do is stumble back to a chair, count to ten, and try not to cry.

You wish you had a hand on your back right now. Someone rubbing small circles into your skin. You can hear his voice, Rafael’s, in your ear, low hums as the two of you relax on the couch…

No.

You blink a few times. You can hear Roxie’s voice over the phone. Her sharp gasp, the long pause. You hear Rafael, then, too, urging you onto your feet, urging your mind to come together for just a bit longer…

No. He’s not – he’s not there. He’s outside. He’s not on the phone, he’s not on a couch, he’s outside and waiting and you’re stuck in here. It makes you want to scream, and your fingers lift to curl in your hair.

And then Carisi’s voice filters in over the phone.

“Hey, hold up, she’s surrendering. We got her!”

Something in Joe seems to snap at that moment. His eyes are wild, the assault rifle draped over his body, and when he lifts to gun to direct it between you and Liv.

“We’re almost there,” Liv tries to tell him. But you know she’s telling you, too. You try to nod, but there’s a flash of light as you struggle to stay conscious.

We’re almost there, Rafael whispers in your head, his little smirk so clear.

Okay, Rafa. Okay.

“It’s your terms,” Liv’s saying. “You tell Tucker how to do this… we’re so close to getting out of here.” Even as your head hangs you can’t help your smile. That’s your lieutenant. That’s Olivia fucking Benson. Allying herself. Protecting you. Your everything aches and she knows it and she’s still there.

The phone rings. Tucker’s voice filters over all of you.

“Now I’m gonna need something. The kids, Joe, okay?”

But Joe’s ready. Joe’s fired up, thanks to Liv. She’s there with him, she almost smiles at him, as he ends the negotiations. He’s ready to get out of there, he’s ready to live.

She’s got him, you think. She’s got him, right where she wants him.

“Joe, we kept our side,” Tucker says. “We’ll need at least one kid.”

“Fine,” he snaps. “You get the boy. When I get into the car you get the boy.” And then his smile goes rancid, evil, cruel.

“But I’m keeping my girls.”

-

Rafael’s leg can’t stop bouncing. He’s made his way back inside the command center, and the hustle and bustle never stops. People are in, people are out, and all he can think about is you. All he can hear is your voice is his ear, all he can focus on is getting you out safe.

Which sucks, because he can’t do a damn thing about it.

He shouldn’t even be here. He should be home. He should be home but he hasn’t been able to move since he made it to this chair.

His fingers go to your tie. It’s around his neck, but it’s yours. One you bought for him, the burgundy something you said brought out his eyes. You’d handed it over with a wink, at the end of a day that’d had you both in the office for longer than you strictly should’ve been.

Just for you, you’d said. It was basically calling your name.

God, what’d he give to hear you calling his name.

He doesn’t have an earpiece in his ear. So he doesn’t know why the cops all around him suddenly tense up, he doesn’t know why they file out of the command center and start loading their guns. What he does know is when Dodds peeks in, Carisi’s eyes visible behind him through the doorway.

“Barba,” the sergeant barks out. “They’re coming out. Stay down and stay behind, Joe is coming out –”

Rafael’s throat closes up. “With who?” he asks, but Dodds is already gone. Carisi peeks in.

“All of them, Rafael,” he says. “Liv, the kids, and –”

Rafael doesn’t need to hear your name. He’s already up. He’s led by Carisi to a vest, he’s led by Carisi to a spot behind the line of armed officers, and all he can do is watch as everyone watches the doors.

“They’re coming out by the garden level!” someone yells, and guns are aiming before Rafael can think.

He sees you first. It’s not hard to miss you. Your hair is whipping around your head a little from the wind, and there’s...

“That’s blood,” he whispers to himself. “God, that’s blood.” It’s dripping down your face, or it was – from your nose, all over your face and mouth.

“Barba,” Carisi whispers back, and that’s when he sees the gun.

No! his brain screams. His body is motionless. The gun is against your head, and you’re walking, no, stumbling forward ahead of him.

He sees your lips moving. You’re talking to Joe – Joe, surrounded by you, and Liv, and the kids. Your hands are up.  

Joe starts yelling. “Farther back! Get farther back!”

“Get back,” Carisi says, and he shouts it a little louder for the group. Everyone starts backing up. Everyone does, and Rafael watches as the four of you creep towards the car. Liv is talking now. She’s right in his ear.

And then the kids get let go. He seems a small smile play across your face, as Joe looks back at Liv.

“He’s letting both kids go!” Dodds shouts. Someone rushes up to meet them, carries them away, and Rafael watches as Joe is flanked by you, by Liv. The kids are rushed away, and the breath Rafael can take after that is minimal. It’s minimal and you’ve still got a gun to your head.

There’s talking. There’s more talking. The car is only inches away.

And then your elbow swings.

-

“Joe,” you whisper. “Keep the gun to my head.”

You feel the pressure against the back of your head. Right against the bruise from this morning. “Good, Joe. We’ll keep pushing forward, okay. I’m gonna keep my hands up, and you…”

“Shut up.”

Your mouth closes tightly. The inching forward is tedious, but you creep with every step. And then Liv starts talking.

“You don’t need the kids, Joe,” Liv whispers. “You don’t need them. Let them go, all right? It’s just about you and us, no one else.”

And then they’re gone. The kids. They dart away, and your eyes close tightly, the smile on your face momentary. One step closer. You can almost hear Rafael still. Almost there.

You feel Liv’s foot tap against yours as the group of you come to a halt. And when your eyes meet hers you can’t help what happens next.

There’s a mutual understanding. One that the two of you come to, in that moment, surrounding Joe, protecting him. His voice is still in your ear, but it doesn’t matter, in that moment. In that moment, it’s just you and Liv, and you see her eyes flick to Joe’s head before glancing down to your elbow.

“Get in,” Joe snaps, and you nod.

You know what she’s asking of you. You what she’s begging for. Safety for the kids, for the parents, for the nightmare to end.

“I will, Joe. I’m just gonna tell Tucker the plan.”

And you know that while she thinks of Noah one last time, steeling up her courage as the two of you shuffle towards the car, that you think of Rafael Barba.

“Get in!” he shouts, and you swallow tight.

Three fingertips against your hand give one tap.

“I’m just gonna tell –“

Two fingertips.

“Get in the damn car, you bitch!”

One finger, one more second.

His gun lifts from your head.

One smile staring up at you from his contact photo, one kiss that he gives with his hand tangled into the hairs on the back of your neck –

Go.

You throw an elbow, and Liv throws herself to the side while you drop. You hear the command, the gunshot, and everything stops as it rings in the air.

And then Joe’s body crumples. There’s a thud as it hits the ground. and you wait for the other shoe to drop. Liv’s own body falling, a new radiating pain in your side. But there’s nothing. Fucking nothing. It’s over.

“He’s got a gun,” you murmur, but it’s so quiet it’s just to yourself. You can’t speak up louder, the sound of the shot that killed him ricocheting in your head, rattling around until your eyes cross and you can’t think.

The yelling of the officers around you can’t stir you from your daze. Nothing seems like it can. You’re holding your hands over your ears to try and quiet what you can, your eyes wide as you stare at Joe’s dead body. And then it hits you, all at once. Like a fucking tidal wave.

It’s done. You’re free. And as you turn towards the crowds around you, shaky legs and a migraine making you stumble, one name is on your lips.

“Rafael?”

It starts out small. Low. Quiet. You can hear Liv next to you, calling out for Noah and people start crowding before you can think.

“Rafael?”

Another time. Louder, fiercer. You can’t see him, but you need to. You know he’s here, he has to be. Your throat almost can’t push the sound out, but it goes, fierce and brave.

“Rafael!”

And then you see him. There. You see him, you see the bright purple tie, the way he’s turning any way he can to find out where your voice is coming from. It’s almost comical, and you start laughing, a lot hysterical at the same time tears start coming down your cheeks.  

Laugh. Cry. Same thing. It doesn’t fucking matter. The next thing you know you’re pushing towards him, and it takes one more turn for him to see you, to start moving through the crowd. You throw your arms around him as he does the same to you, and everything inside of you seems to fall apart.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, over and over again. “Lo siento, mi amor, lo siento, estoy aqui.” But his apologies mean nothing more than just hearing the sound of his voice, pressing your lips to his mouth and neck and shoulder as you press as close as you can, hug as tight as you can, hide as much as you fucking can.

“I – I was so sc-scared,” you sob out, and that’s when your legs give out. Rafael has to try and catch you, and almost can’t, the way you go dead weight on him. But there’s nothing left to give, no more strength, and in the end he holds you as the medics rush you.

Liv’s voice fades in behind you. “I’m fine, go to her, I’m fine. Where’s Noah?” Tucker’s voice is trying to assure her that they’re getting him, that he’s coming, but then everything fades out again.

You’re so tired. God, you’re so fucking tired.

Your head hurts so bad.

Shit.

“Rafa,” you whimper out, and his shushes are gentle, one of his hand lifting to shakily push through your hair. There are other bodies around the both of you, and you try not to think about how when his hand pulls away you can see your own blood on it. Blood. Like your nose.

“Cariño,” he murmurs. “What happened?”

“Got… hit. In the head,” you whisper, and that’s when everything goes black.

-

You wake up in the hospital. You wake up, and things are still a little fuzzy, but you wake up at all, and that’s a minor miracle. You could’ve slept for another week, you think, if the way your head is pounding tells you anything.

“Fuck,” you hiss immediately, when everything hits you all at once. The lights, the beeping, the feeling of your body, somehow weightless and heavy as hell at the same time.

“They wouldn’t let me in.”

You have to blink. The lights are still too bright, and the voice almost doesn’t sound like it’s coming from in the room. After all, Rafael’s voice was in your head throughout the last few hours of that damn mess.

Right. The townhouse.

You blink again. Rafael is sitting next to you. His eyes are on you, and he’s leaning forward, his elbows on his knees.

You try not to think about the way his sleeves are rolled up, the way he looks like he hasn’t slept. There’s a bit of stubble on his face, and you want to reach out and touch it – he’s never not clean-shaven.

“What’d you say?” you murmur. Your mouth feels like cotton. 

“They took you away,” he whispers, and reaches out to grab your hand. “They took you away, out there, and… they didn’t let me in because I’m not family.”

Everything slowly comes back in. 

“You’re here now,” you whisper, and he shakes his head. 

“I wasn’t. Not the whole time you were... I wasn’t.” 

“You were... you. You were.” 

You struggle to sit up, but there’s oxygen in your nose and you can’t pull at it. You’re so weak, and everything, everything hurts. But. But the kids, Liv –

“They’re okay.” That’s when you realize that you were talking out loud, and Rafael reaches up to brush your hair back. Leans forward to kiss your forehead. “They’re okay. You’re okay.”

“Rafael.”

“The squad didn’t know. No one knew. So no one could vouch… no one knew, when your name was on there, too, with Liv, with... fuck, William Lewis...”

You’re blinking. You’re blinking a lot. Something is prickling at the corners of your eyes, and you let the tears fall. “Rafael. I’m here. I’m…”

He leans up to kiss your forehead again, and you realize he’s crying, too. You can feel something wet against your skin, and he’s holding you so close.

“You almost weren’t, and. They know now,” he whispers. “I told them. If anything ever happens, I – I need to be in here first.”

You don’t have time to process, and frankly, you don’t want to. Because Rafael is here, in your room, holding you gently, and you hear his voice in your ear just like you did earlier. You hear his little murmured prayers against your head, thanks to God, in Spanish right at your collarbone. 

You didn’t tell anyone because it was safer. You didn’t tell anyone because it was easier. You didn’t tell anyone, and it still ended with you in a hospital bed. 

He told them. And you can’t help but… but feel grateful. 

No more uncertainty. No more secrets. No more, if it means that he gets there just a little bit earlier. If it means you know that he’ll be there. 

“If anything ever happens to you,” you mutter back, “you best believe I’m beating down the doors. Family or not.” 

It’s slurred, your words. Things are getting a little fuzzy, again. You think it’s something about the medicine that’s dripping into your arm. It doesn’t matter. Rafael’s holding you so tight.

“Of that I have no doubt, cariño. Now get some rest for me.”

-

tag list - @writefasttalkevenfaster // @hurricanejjareau // @crazyshannonigans // @goldenxreid // @teamhappyme // @chasingeverybreakingwave 

[xbaepsae]

5280 feet (m)

“Never in your life have you met such a cocky, yet still strangely attractive, person. His words really struck a chord in you, and now you really can’t stop imagining your legs wrapped around him…or his cock in your mouth.”

[jimin x flight attendant!reader]

genre: mile high club!au, smut, slight pwp, some humor, some fluff (if you squint)

word count: 5.8k

rating: mature

warnings: uhhhh unprotected airplane sex lmao, fingering, oral, cum shot, more unprotected sex, creampie, mentions of alcohol, language

a/n: please tell me i’m not the only one who fantasizes about being a member of the mile high club?? LOL. i planned this fic a while ago, but forgot about it until yesterday. and surprisingly, all 5k+ came pretty naturally; of course, i never intended it to be 5k lol. the plot just kept continuing. xoxo

“I think one of these days, I’m just going to collapse and die,” you say, taking a sip of your coffee. It tasted dark and bitter—much like your mood right now.

“Oh, you’re being dramatic,” Seokjin rolls his eyes, “you love this job.”

He was right—you did love being a flight attendant. It was probably the best decision you’ve ever made, and you’ve made a lot of bad ones. Instead of completing the standard four years of college, you managed one measly semester and decided school just wasn’t for you. The only reason you applied was for your mother’s sanity anyway; you promised you’d try, and try you did. Obviously, your mother freaked because your life was doomed—a fucking college dropout; what good could come from it?

Well, five years later, you’d consider your life pretty successful. Not only have you traveled all over the world, but you’ve met some interesting people. The only downside to this career was the demanding, god-forsaken hours.

Take your predicament right now as an example; you woke up this morning at around four o’clock, dazed and confused, before remembering that you spent another night at a hotel in an unfamiliar city. You’ve never really been a morning person, so you’ve yet to master the early morning calls.

After an entire day of flying, along with an array of rude and needy passengers, you are on the last flight of the day—the flight that is going to take you home to your bed.

Pulling your suitcases behind you, you and Seokjin make it to the gate of your final assignment for the day and greet the pilot. He lets you know that the flight is going to be over two hours and you’re completely okay with that.

“Whatever will get me home tonight, Yoongi,” you smile tiredly, realizing that your coffee is already finished.

“It shouldn’t be a terribly full flight, so I think we’ll manage.”

Yoongi boards the plane first, along with his co-pilot, to make sure everything is working properly, and lets you and Seokjin know that you two can board in ten minutes. In the time you still have to wait, people begin arriving at the gate. You hope Yoongi is right, and that the flight isn’t packed, because you honestly aren’t in the mood to deal with the audacious demands of people right now.

Quickly excusing yourself to the restroom, you freshen up a little and give yourself a little prep talk, “You can do this, y/n—just one more flight and then you have the rest of the week off.”

You are so looking forward to your break. Rarely do you ever get so many days off in-between your schedule, so you’re beyond excited. It was finally time for you and your bed to become reacquainted with one another.

When you get back to the gate, Seokjin offers you a smile. “Looking better.”

“I feel much better; maybe the caffeine is kicking in after all.” Some of your favorite workdays were the days you and Seokjin got to work together. It wasn’t often since your airline has multiple crewmembers, but these last rotation days have been fun—minus today since you’re in a rush to go home. “Got any plans when you get home?”

“I think my wife just misses me, so we’ll probably just be staying at home,” he laughs, and you wistfully sigh at the thought of marriage.

At that moment, you both get a notice to board the plane and you excitedly hand one of the desk attendants your boarding pass. As you both walk through the boarding gate, you can’t help but muse, “Must be nice to have someone to return home to.”

“Weren’t you seeing that one guy…?”

“Oh, Namjoon?” you ask, and Seokjin nods. “Yeah…I was; unfortunately, that didn’t work out.”

“What happened?” he asks.

Shrugging, you say, “I guess it was because I was busy? Being a flight attendant means I’m not always home, and Namjoon wanted someone who could always be around.”

“Are you doing alright though?”

“Oh yeah,” you nod, “I’m fine. Our relationship wasn’t that serious anyway and if I’m being honest, I really didn’t like Namjoon that much.”

Boarding the plane, you and Seokjin stow your bags away and begin preparing the necessities for the flight. After so many years in the business, all of this prep feels like second nature to you. Within minutes, you have almost everything prepped just in time for the passengers arriving on the plane.

As people begin boarding, you wear your best smile and greet them. One by one, you watch the different people boarding—you see everything from families to singles. Although you’re smiling at everyone, you’re not one hundred percent paying attention, that is until you catch the persistent gaze of one passenger.

You aren’t even actively looking at him; but you know that feeling of someone watching you? Well, for some reason, he was staring you down, so you had to look at him. And when you do, an immediate wave of heat rolls over your body. The moment he passes by you, towering a few inches above you in your modest heels, you catch a whiff of his cologne that sends a pulse down to your core.

Good thing you’ve perfected at least your poker face because hot damn that was that a fine piece of man in front of you. You’ve encountered hot passengers on other flights but never has someone affected you like this. Perhaps it was the swagger in his walk or the confidence that permeated the recycled air, but it was intoxicating.

From your peripheral, you notice that he found a seat early on the plane—meaning he was seated in first-class. You didn’t even pay attention to what he was wearing. Was he a businessman? Those are the types that always sit in first-class.

Soon, the doors of the plane shut, and you have to begin with the plane briefing and safety protocols.

“Y/n, for the safety demonstration, I’ll take the back half of the plane and you stay here in first-class, okay?” Seokjin asks from somewhere, but you can’t even focus. You absentmindedly nod before realizing that you’ll be in close proximity with that man from earlier. You’re about to protest when your friend suddenly speaks up again. “Actually, can you stay in first-class and the front of economy today? I’d rather be in the back of the plane.”

Oh, great. “Uh…sure. That’s fine, I guess.”

Beginning the safety instructions, you once again feel the same heated gaze from earlier and wonder if it’s because you look like a mess? Was there something on your uniform? You’ll be the first to admit that flight attending uniforms weren’t the cutest things in the world, but it was the standard, so you have no choice.

After you finish the safety instructions, you move onto the pre-flight service in first-class. You peaked and noticed that mystery man is sitting in the last row of first-class, so you don’t have to immediately talk to him. Even as you bring glasses of champagne and various other cups of liquor to the other passengers in first-class, the feeling of being watched never fully goes away. And eventually, you find yourself in front of him.

“Good evening sir, is there anything I can get you before we take off?” you try not to directly look at him.

“Yes, I’ll have a glass of your best red wine and you,” he says so smoothly, you almost don’t catch the bit at the end.

When you do, your eyes flutter to his. “Excuse me?”

“I wanted you to look at me, doll,” he smiles, and you feel your heart explode. This man was unbelievably attractive. You momentarily glance at his clothing and he is indeed wearing a suit. But he wears it in such a way that isn’t overly stuffy. Underneath his blazer is a simple white button-up, but the top two buttons are open and leave little to the imagination.

“Anything else besides the wine, sir?” you ignore the comment made about you.

“How about your name?” he asks, leaning towards you. Was he flirting with you?

You offer a passive smile, “I don’t think that’s on the menu.”

“Are you sure you’re not on the menu? Because,” he licks his lower lip, “I would love to have those long legs wrapped around me or maybe your sweet lips wrapped around my cock.”

If people could turn into puddles, you’d be a total melted mess right now. Instinctively, your thighs snap together, and you release a shaky breath. You nervously look around and hope no one thinks anything suspicious is happening right now. Quickly, you excuse yourself and air out the top of your uniform. It is too damn hot in here.

Walking back with a glass of red wine, you hand it to the extremely forward stranger. “Here you so, sir. I hope you enjoy.”

“I’m sorry if I was being too forward a moment ago,” he takes a sip of the wine and you watch as he licks a drop off his lips. “But you’re too beautiful and I can’t take my eyes off of you.”

“No, it’s…attractive,” you admit, which not only surprises him but surprises you too.

He gives you another mega-watt smile. “The name’s Jimin.”

“Y/n,” you finally relent just as Yoongi announces that the plane is ready for takeoff. Leaving Jimin with a last look, you go and take your seat as the plane lifts into the air.

***

Once the plane reaches a certain altitude and seat belts can be unbuckled, you begin the process off offering refreshments to the other passengers. You and Seokjin tag team this feat and Yoongi was right, there aren’t as many people on this flight; this makes the whole process much easier. Even though you’re occupied with offering cups of ginger ale and sprite to passengers, you can’t stop thinking about Jimin.

You blame the fact that you haven’t had a proper orgasm in a few days. Mix that with your awful day, and you’re dying for a sweet release. For the last half hour, Jimin has had you all hot and bothered. Never in your life have you met such a cocky, yet still strangely attractive, person. His words really struck a chord in you, and now you really can’t stop imagining your legs wrapped around him…or his cock in your mouth.

“Are you okay, y/n?”

You blink at Seokjin, “Fine—just tired.”

Putting the refreshment carts away in the back, you both do one round of garbage collection before Seokjin excuses himself to the makeshift lounge. On this plane, since it is a bit bigger, there is a little lounge for the crew. However, it only fits one person usually. Pouting, you make your way back to the front of the plane and double check with a few passengers.

As you’re about to pass first-class, you feel your core tighten from the thought of being in close proximity to Jimin again. Even though you feel his eyes on you once again, you ignore the sensation and focus on the other first-class passengers.

“Can I have another glass of champagne?” one woman asks, and you promptly bring her another cold glass.

You continue catering to everyone’s needs before you find yourself in front of Jimin again. Never have you been more thankful for the bit of privacy first-class offers because the pure and unadulterated desire that seeps from Jimin almost has you on your knees. “Can I get you anything else, sir?”

“Are you still off the menu, y/n?” he asks, and the way your name rolls off his tongue makes you weak. Your expression only seems to fuel his desire though. “I’ll have another glass on red wine.”

You practically run to get the wine. As you pour his drink, you honestly aren’t sure if you’ll make it the whole flight feeling this tense. There is still at least another hour and a half of the flight, but your self-control is wearing thin. Maybe if you just quickly slipped into the lavatory…your face heats at the thought. In all of your years as a flight attendant, you’ve never even once considered doing something like that.

As someone working in the airplane industry, you’ve heard of the so-called mile high club—people who have sex on planes. You will admit that the thought has always intrigued you, but to actually participate? Not only would you be jeopardizing your job, but also your reputation.

During your first year as a flight attendant, you heard a rumor about a girl who worked on a different airline that got fired for getting caught having sex on the job. You don’t remember the details of what exactly happened, but all you need to remember is that she ended up jobless and you don’t want that to be your reality.

Walking back to Jimin, you catch him staring at you again and tension once again radiates throughout your body.

“Here you go,” you hand him the glass of wine. Just as you’re about to walk away, his hands move to wrap around your wrist.

“Tell me about yourself,” he prompts, taking you by surprise. “What? Thought that I just wanted to fuck you?”

Your mouth drops at his boldness, and Jimin comments something that sounds like you’re cute.

“I mean, I do want to do that too,” he continues, hand wrapped underneath his jaw. “But I am curious to know more about you.”

“I’m twenty-three and I’ve been a flight attendant for almost five years,” you offer, unsure if that’s the kind of information he wants to know. “I love my job and I couldn’t imagine doing anything else.”

Jimin takes a sip of his wine before saying, “I’m twenty-six and I work in a multi-million-dollar business. I love-hate my job but couldn’t imagine doing anything else either.”

“Is that where you’re headed today?” you ask.

“Yeah,” he unbuttons another button from his shirt and proceeds to take off his jacket. Although you try to be discreet, Jimin catches your nervous swallow. “I do these business trips every month. I have a huge meeting tomorrow morning, which is why I took a flight tonight.”

“Well, if you have a chance, the city is beautiful and you should go sightseeing,” you tell him, surprised that you both are having a normal conversation.

“You’ve been?” he asks.

You laugh in response. “I live there.”

Jimin’s eyebrows perk up. “Oh, really? I wasn’t sure since I know flight attendants spend a certain number of days working prior to flying home.”

“This is my last flight of this particular schedule,” you don’t know why you feel the need to tell him this, but the words slip out of your mouth before you can stop them.

“Interesting,” Jimin nods. “Don’t you think we should celebrate?”

At his question, your brows furrow. You don’t understand what he means. “Celebrate what?”

“This being your last flight.”

“How?”

Despite the setting sun casting the cabin in golden hour, Jimin’s eyes appear to darken in the light. Something mischievous glints in them and all he says is, “Three taps.”

***

You have no idea what three taps means.

After that comment from Jimin, you walked back to your seat to contemplate his words. There is no possible way anything can happen—there is less than an hour before they land now. What kind of celebration was he even talking about?

Mulling over his words, you do a walk through all the cabins with Seokjin and snicker when you see his bedhead. “Have a good nap?”

“Even though it was only twenty minutes, I needed that,” he smiles sheepishly

“No wonder you wanted to sit in the back.”

You pick up some trash from the passengers and throw it into the trash bag that Seokjin holds. “You can have a quick nap if you want.”

“Thanks, but no thanks,” you shake your head. “The flight’s almost over anyway.”

Checking your watch, there should only be about thirty minutes left of the flight. On your way back to your seat, you slip into the lavatory and splash some water on your face. You are still feeling a bit hot and bothered, but your house was within reach. And being home meant you could use all of your delicious toys tucked away in your side drawer.

Just as you wipe the water off your face, you hear a knock on the door. You yell out that it’s occupied, and even double check to make sure you locked the door. You did. So, who knocked? Throwing the paper towel away, there’s another knock on the door…and then another. Your stomach tightens when you realize there were three consecutive knocks—three taps.

You mouth runs dry at the thought of who might be on the other side of the door. There is also a jolt of electricity that runs up your spine at the thought of what’s going to happen, and even more so at the fact that you could get caught. Earlier, you were worried about getting caught and potentially losing your job; however, now, the risk thrilled you.

So, you decide to say fuck it and unlock the door.

Immediately, Jimin enters the lavatory and swiftly locks it behind him. You open your mouth to say something to him but before you can, he steps forward and pushes you back against the sink. Grabbing your face in his hands, his lips crash onto yours. You moan at the sheer force of his kiss. His lips move over yours as if he’s kissed your lips a thousand times. Like he knows exactly how to set you off.

You don’t know how, but clothes start coming off and you find yourself on your knees in front of him. Your breast are already on full display and he leans down to pinch your nipples before moving to cup your face.

“Suck my cock, baby girl,” Jimin coos, rubbing his thumb over your lips.

Unbuckling his pants, you reach into his briefs and pull out his cock. There’s already precum smeared over the tip and hard shaft, and you wonder just how long he’s been like this.

“I’ve been hard since the flight started,” he seems to read your mind. “The moment I saw that tight ass in that skirt…fuck.”

You take Jimin into your mouth without warning, marveling at his size and how you’re already dripping through your panties. You’re no prude, but you’ve never been this turned on in your life.

As you suck on the tip and work the rest with your hands, the sounds that come from Jimin’s mouth feed your desire. He’s surprisingly vocal—his moans high pitched and needy. “Yes…just like that, baby. You suck cock so well, huh?”

You hum in response, and Jimin’s hands weave their way into your hair. He guides you closer to his groin, his cock hitting the back of your throat. You choke at the sensation, but it’s worth the pleasure that Jimin seems to feel. He begins fucking your mouth; body shaking slightly at the feeling of lips around his cock.

Eventually, he pulls away and lifts you off the ground. Unexpectedly, he brings you close for another kiss—the sloppy, messy kind that moves from your lips to your jaw, and curves to your neck and collarbone. As he sucks bruises into the delicate skin of your shoulder, he raises you up on the sink and pulls your panties to the side.

The moment his thumb presses against your clit, you’re done for. You jerk at the way he works your little nub, nearly crying because you’ve wanted nothing more than release. “Oh my god, Jimin.”

It doesn’t take you long to feel the steady build of your orgasm coming. It really has been so long since you’ve felt this good; and when Jimin inserts two fingers inside of you, finding that g-spot, you come undone instantly.

“Fuck, I’m coming,” you arch back against the mirror and Jimin can’t help but stare at your expression in wonder.

“That’s right, baby,” he continues to rub your sensitive clit, helping you ride out your orgasm. “Keep coming for me, and then I’m going to fuck you so good.”

The second you come down from your high, Jimin pushes his cock into you and you let out the loudest moan. He fucks you hard and fast, hips slamming against your pelvis rhythmically. For a second, you wonder if he dances because there was no way normal hips should move that way. But that thought fades when Jimin pulls your closer to the edge of the sink, and somehow manages to get an even deeper angle.

“F-Feels so good, Jimin.”

“Yeah?” he asks, sweat starting to bead at his brow.

You nod in response and look down to see the way his cock looks entering your wet cunt. The sight alone would’ve been enough to send you over the edge again, but you held it in. More than anything, you wanted Jimin to come too. Wrapping your legs even tighter around him, you begin to meet him thrust for thrust. Soon, his hip movements become jerky and you know he’s close.

“I don’t know how much longer I-I can…” Jimin groans, slowing down. “Are you close?”

“Mhmm,” you moan. “I’m almost there….”

With a few more hard thrusts, and a thumb pressed to your clit, you shut your eyes as your second orgasm rolls over you. The way your walls clench around him have Jimin gasping as he pulls out and shoots his load all over your stomach. You watch the milky white ropes mark your skin, and even lift a bit into your mouth.

“You know, I would’ve swallowed,” you muse, loving the way Jimin’s expression darkens once again.

“I guess we’ll just have to do that next time,” he smirks, causing you to become speechless.

You both clean up in silence, and you try to make yourself look pre-coital. Jimin laughs at the way you attempt to straighten your wrinkled skirt, but you just pout because he looks amazing even with the just-fucked look. “No fair.”

“You look hot,” Jimin swears, pinching your butt a little and making you jump.

Jimin sneaks back out of the lavatory first and you follow behind a moment later, walking as casually as you can to your seat. Thankfully, you arrive just in time because Yoongi announces over the intercom that you’re descending soon, which means everyone needs to buckle up.

As the plane lands in the city, the sky is a gorgeous shade of purple dusk. Immediately, you feel reenergized from being home, and also because you just had the best sex of your life…in an airplane lavatory. You blush again at the thought of Jimin’s thick cock inside of you, and then sigh when you realize you’ll probably never see him again. What a tragedy.

The moment the plane pulls up to the gate, and Yoongi turns the engine off, everyone begins filing out of the plane. You bid each passenger goodbye and wonder why you haven’t seen Jimin yet—after all, he was sitting in first-class. Eventually, you realize he’s the last person to leave and when he stands in front of you, he sticks his hand out.

Instinctively, though confused, you shake it and he leaves without another word. You watch him step off the plane and feel…sad? Although you barely know the man, you were definitely intrigued and wanted to see him again. When you move to grab your bags, you realize that there is a slip of paper in your hand. Wait; did Jimin put it there? Quickly opening the note, you read it and a wide smile stretches across your face.

He gave you his number.

***

After you say goodbye to Seokjin and Yoongi, you waste no time texting Jimin.

9:01 PM | You: hi…this is y/n

9:01 PM | Jimin: y/n. didn’t think you’d actually text back lol

You can’t help but laugh a little at his response. Why wouldn’t you text back? Right now, the only thing you can think about is him.

9:02 PM | You: of course. I want to see you again

You send your next text without even fully thinking it through. It was impulsive and a bit unlike you to be so frank, that was clearly Jimin’s forte, but what was there to lose? If Jimin hadn’t secretly given you his number, there would have been no way you’d see him again.

By the time you make it to your car, Jimin hasn’t said anything back. Doubt and worry fills you—was he tired of you already? Maybe you were bad at sex? No, then why would he have bothered with the number anyway? Your mind swirls through terrible scenarios before you receive another message

9:06 PM | Jimin: me too, doll. Meet me at my hotel?

9:06 PM | Jimin: I would’ve waited but my ride was already here waiting for me, and I didn’t know if you…

Your body pulsates at the thought of seeing him now. Earlier today, all you wanted was to go home; now, the idea of warming Jimin’s hotel bed seemed too tempting to pass up.

9:07 PM | You: okay

***

You pull up to the hotel that Jimin sent the address to and gawk at the posh exterior. There are a number of ritzy hotels in your city, and you figured Jimin would be staying at a nicer one, but it was still shocking to experience.

As your mouth stays parted, someone gently taps at your window. You jump a little and see a man standing there. Rolling down your window, you take in his uniform and are about to ask where you can park.

“I can valet park for you, ma’am,” he says, cutting you off. “You’re with Mr. Park, correct?”

Who is Mr. Park? Before you have a chance to answer, your phone vibrates with a text message. Looking down, you see that Jimin’s texted you.

9:30 PM | Jimin: let the valet take your car

“Umm, okay,” you tell the man and step out of the car. Walking around to grab your luggage from the back, you see that another man has already fetched it for you. Is this what it’s like to have money? You quickly thank them both and make your way inside of the hotel.

As you reach the front desk, the receptionist offers you a smile. “Mr. Park is in the Presidential Suite. It’s on the very top floor, ma’am.”

Your mouth drops again, and you wonder if maybe you had the wrong perception of Jimin. When he mentioned on the plane that he worked for a big business, you figured he was just a normal employee. Yeah, every business has its perks, so you figured that was just the case. However, maybe Jimin is higher up the business food chain than you thought. Also, how did she know you were the person Jimin was supposed to meet?

After thanking the receptionist, you walk in the direction of the elevators. Getting in one, you press the highest number on the elevator and begin to go up. Once you make it to the top floor, you walk out of the elevator and realize there is only one door. You laugh a little; guess there’s no way you can get lost then.

Standing in front of the door, you knock three times and wait for Jimin to answer. Within seconds, he does, and you realize he only has a towel wrapped around his waist. His hair is damp, and you marvel at the droplets that cascade down his body. He laughs at your reaction and ushers you to come inside.

But the second you’re through the threshold, your luggage tips over as Jimin pushes you against a wall.

“Hey, doll,” his breath fans across your face.

“Hey, Mr. Park,” you smirk a little. “So, tell me, just how rich are you?”

Jimin chuckles and begins to pepper kisses along your face and jawline. “I was hoping you wouldn’t figure that out. Tends to make people want to stay, if you know what I mean.”

Grabbing his face into your hands, you tell him, “Jimin, I don’t care that you have money.”

His expression softens at your words.

“And how could I not figure that out when you’re staying in a fucking Presidential Suite?” you continue, pressing a kiss on his chin. “Kind of a dead giveaway.”

“Fuck my money,” he rolls his eyes. “I just want to properly bury my face in your pussy.”

Fire ignites in your core as Jimin pulls you away from the doorway and past the main area. You barely have time to admire the ceiling to floor glass windows or the modern layout of furniture because he drags you into the bedroom. Jimin throws himself onto his bed, and you don’t miss the way his towel barely clings to his body. “Strip for me.”

You are still in your flight attendant outfit; however, you oblige and begin peeling the same clothes Jimin tore off your body earlier. You delight in the way Jimin watches your every move. It’s like he can’t get enough of you. Once you slip out of your panties, fully exposed to him, he pulls you on top of his lap for a kiss.

On his lips, you can still taste the remnants of the red wine he had on the plane. But unlike the rushed kisses in the lavatory, Jimin kisses you passionately now. His tongue dances with your own, and he gently nips at your lips before pushing you onto your back.

Above you, he works a trail down your body; sucking your already hard nipples into his mouth. You let out a shuddering moan when he reaches the sensitive skin above your cunt. He licks the skin there, and then dives into your core.

“A-Ah!” your back arches at the feeling of Jimin’s tongue fucking you.

“Your pussy tastes so fucking sweet, baby girl,” he groans.

Jimin replaces his tongue with one finger, and you’re about to whine at the loss of his mouth when his mouth moves to your clit and doubles the sensation. “Fuck.”

“Just like that, baby,” he coos, inserting another finger. “Are you going to come for me?”

You helplessly nod at his ministrations. He continues to suck on your little nub, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. When he inserts a third finger inside your wetness, it sends you past the point of no return and you cry out your climax.

“Beautiful,” he hums, lapping up your release and you’ve never seen anything hotter. Sitting up, he watches you with a smug grin and starts pumping his hardening cock in front of you. “Get on your side.”

Although your legs already feel like jelly, you do as he says and lay on your side. Jimin moves behind you, and the feeling of your back pressed against his chest sends a shiver down your pack. Gently, Jimin lifts one of your legs over his and slides inside of you.

Just a few hours ago, he was inside of you, but the stretch still feels amazing now. His pace is slow, and he presses chaste kisses along your shoulder. After a few shallow thrusts, he hits you with a particularly hard one and you let out a low moan.

“What do you want me to do?” he whispers into your ear, arm reaching over to fondle your breasts.

“I want you to fuck me, Mr. Park.”

Jimin nips at your ear, “What was that, doll? Couldn’t hear you.”

You repeat you statement louder, and he lets out a satisfied grunt. Jimin’s hips pick up their pace and the forearm holding you up falls at the force of his thrusts. The lewd noises coming out of your mouth are loud and brazen, but the dirty sweet nothings that left Jimin’s lips are enough to make you orgasm a second time—well, fourth if you count the two from earlier today.

“Ohmygod, Jimin.”

“Yes, fuck, doll—you feel so fucking good on my cock.” Clutching the bedsheets through your high, Jimin breathes heavily behind you, “Fuck. Where do you want me to cum, baby girl?”

Even though you just came, you still can’t help the moans that leave your mouth. “Anywhere. I-I don’t c-care.”

“Can I come inside of you?”

The thought of Jimin filling you up with his cum is so fucking hot, you nod and feel him explode inside of you. He leans against your shoulder as he coats your inner walls. When he finally pulls out, you fall back onto your elbows and examine the mess he made.

“Has anyone ever told you that your pussy is a wonderland?” Jimin asks, walking towards you with a wet cloth. You’re about to take it from him to clean yourself, but he ends up doing it for you.

You blush at the action. “Uh…I don’t think so.”

“Well, it is,” he meets your gaze. You feel yourself blush even harder.

Jimin discards the wet cloth and you realize this is the awkward part. At least on the plane, you could just go back to your seat. Here, what are you supposed to do? Getting up from the bed, you slip your panties back on and cringe at how wet they are.

“Where are you going?”

You stop in your tracks. “Leaving?”

Jimin pulls back the covers of the bed and slips inside, beckoning you. “Stay.”

“Don’t you have that huge meeting early tomorrow?”

“So?” he asks, and you slip into bed right beside him—sans clothing. “Besides, I want to fuck you again.”

You roll your eyes as he pulls you closer, “Isn’t twice enough?”

“I think I might be addicted,” he admits, which makes your heart stutter.

You’re about to tell him the same, but you yawn instead. Suddenly, you remember that you’ve been up since four this morning and that you’ve been running on god knows how many shots of espresso.

“Tired?” Jimin takes the words right out of your mouth.

Nodding, you mutter unintelligently. You probably should shower and brush your teeth, but you honestly can’t be bothered since Jimin feels so good beside you. His body is warm and comfortable; before you can say another word to him, you’re already drifting into dreamland.

As you sleep tangled in his arms, Jimin grazes his fingers over your face and thinks about how beautiful you look even like this. He wasn’t lying when he said he might be addicted to you. He only met you today and already had you twice, but the desire to have more of you is insatiable.

You are definitely going to be his ruin.

[amazonswin]

Saudade: Chapter 2

Pairing: Duncan/Courtney (Total drama)

Word count: 1k

A/n: Hey guys! Sorry this took me so long, but I do plan on continuing this fic! My inbox is always open for any questions or comments!

___

The coffee shop was nearly silent, aside from the low buzz of the machines. The evening crowd consisted mainly of students dying for any burst of energy caffeine could provide. Duncan wasn’t the biggest fan of coffee. He’d have a cup here and there when he had an early shift or a bad hangover, but it definitely wasn’t a daily thing. But a coffee shop was the only neutral ground he could think of, a no pressure place to talk. At least, that's what he said to finally convince Courtney to meet him.

She sat across from him staring into her cup, occasionally using a spoon to give it a quick stir. Neither were sure of how to break the tension. There was so much to be said, but no real way to say it. Duncan had waited for this moment for years. He’d planned out an apology and spent countless hours thinking of things he wished he could tell her. Though, at this moment, it all felt wrong. Duncan had gotten into plenty of trouble before, only this time a halfhearted ‘I’m sorry’ wouldn’t fix it.

“We should probably talk, otherwise I have other things to attend to..” Courtney was the one to break the silence.

“Probably..” He agreed. God, why was this more awkward than sleeping in an overcrowded cell.

“How long have you been out of jail?” Her tone sounded more lawyer than old friend. Duncan couldn’t help but laugh. He remembered many things about Courtney; the way the sunlight hit her hair, the way she scrunched up her nose when focused, how easy it was to make her laugh. But her abruptness was something he was more than happy to forget.

“It’s been years. Don’t get me wrong, I had some issues here and there but I don’t plan on going back to jail. I’m a changed man.”

“Somehow I find that hard to believe,'' Courtney teased. She really wanted to believe him, but where would she be without her doubts? Getting hurt again wasn’t something she was just going to let happen. A lot had changed since she was a 16 year old kid. “So if you're no longer a delinquent, what have you been up to?”

There was so much he wanted to tell her that he had no idea where to begin. Surely he’d stay clear of criminal offenses and failed relationships. Duncan had never been one to hide his past mistakes, but bringing those up now would definitely scare her away. He decided just to stick to the major events, short and simple.

“Well after the total drama hell and my jail sentence, I got my GED. Despite my plan to never go back to the slammer, for the first few years I got in trouble with the law.” Duncan shrugged, “What’s a man to do? That's all I knew.”

Courtney raised an eyebrow, she struggled to see the humor in a criminal record.

Duncan smirked, continuing on. How he never really thought about being an artist, the whole idea sounding lame. Then after several tattoo sessions where duncan sketched the ideas himself, the owner insisted on taking him on as an apprentice. He had even offered to pay for all the certifications. It's a great gig that he really enjoys. Plus the discounted tattoos serve some appeal. On the side he worked on fixing motorcycles. A skill he picked up in childhood, but really polished off while on parole. It came in handy when his own bike occasionally gave out on him.

“It's nothing grand, but hey I'm not complaining.”

“No, Duncan, That's great. I always knew that you could do something great, if you’d actually put your mind to it.”

“And what about you princess? You a corporate lawyer?” He joked.

“Well…yes.”

Duncan posed the question as a joke, desperately wanting some glance of her life. Though, she was rather hesitant to let him.

“After total drama made me look totally crazy, which I was completely justified for after all, I knew I was going to need to clean up my reputation. Luckily, many people liked my ambition so I was able to get recruited to this amazing academic program. I guess from there I just kept climbing. I had to.” Courtney glanced away as she continued. How she then went on to a top university, and then a top law program. She persistently assisted, and somewhat annoyed, a professor until he finally offered her an internship at his firm. After constant overstepping and taking control of her bosses' cases, they knew they had to hire her. She’d be too big of a competitor otherwise. It was clear from the beginning that she was on a fast track to making partner.

“And you have a kid?”

“Yes, I do.” Courtney coughed to clear her throat, “I’m assuming you have more tattoos then?” She looked at his tattoo covered arm, trying to shift the conversation.

“To see the rest you’d at least have to buy me a drink first” Duncan winked, “So a kid? When did that happen?”

“A while ago..”

“What are they like? A mini version of you?”

“No, not at all” She smiles, “I have a daughter, Maelie. She’s so smart, but finds it mean to be a show off about it. And she’s funny, she’ll make you laugh at anything and everything.”

He had rarely seen this side of Courtney before. She had gone on many rants, but her eyes only sparkled like this when she was truly passionate about something. There was no doubt that Maelie was the most important thing in her life. Duncan loved this side of her.

The sudden cell phone ping snapped him from his daze. Barely skimming over the message, Courtney knew she had to leave. It took barely a second for her to collect her things.

“I’m sorry, I have to go. The babysitter has to go, and I have work in the morning anyway…”

“No, it’s okay. I’ve waited 8 years to talk princess, I can wait more.” He winked, though he desperately wanted her to stay. “Hey, how old is your kid anyway?”

Courtney stayed silent before slowly exhaling.

“She’s seven.”

It took Duncan only a few seconds to realize, but by then she was gone. He quickly ran outside to try and catch her, with no luck. Courtney was gone, and he had a daughter.

[trustmeifyoudare]

The Stranger

It’s 12 am an do write this in an hour and this is the first fic I write on a phone. Enjoy

It was the night shift and barely anyone was inside the café. Luka absentmindedly played with a pen as he waited for his shift to end. He couldn’t wait to get home.

The door opened, snapping Luka out of his daze. A lone person walked in, all dressed up in a suit and tie at 2 am in the morning.

“One earl grey tea, please,” the customer said, yawning. A streak of dirt was on his face.

Luka silently made the drink. He handed it off to the stranger and they parted ways without saying a word.

…

Luka had seen stranger people during his night shifts, so the man from early soon left his mind. He had better things to think about anyway.

A month later, Luka was back on the night shift. He was left alone because his coworker bailed to go to some party on the other side of the city. That meant that Luka was going to be by himself for the next eight hours with nothing to do. Yeah!

Barely anyone came in, but right at 2 am the same guy from before walked in. He was still wearing a suit, almost he was about to go to a fancy ball but had to stop and get some tea.

“An earl grey,” the man said.

“Sorry, but we don’t have any more. Can I offer you a coffee instead?”

The stranger glared at Luka. “Coffee? Coffee? Are you trying to kill me? You dare suggest that I have that drink that thinks it is better than tea?”

“Chill out, Dude. It was just a question.”

The stranger grunted.

“Well, what can I get you?”

“Not coffee.”

Okay, time to get a hot chocolate for the grump, he thought.

He made the drink, putting just the tiniest drop of coffee in there just to spite him, and gave it to him. “Here’s your order.”

Maybe it was just the sleep withdrawal or the caffeine deprivation (he probably shouldn’t have made that bet with Lila) but Luka couldn’t stop staring at the strangers lips for a moment. He ripped his gaze away and turned around, blushing like a madman. What is wrong with me?

“That will be £1.52, I mean £3.52.” Luka silently cursed himself as he stumbled over his words. What was wrong with him today?

“Don’t even bother,” the stranger said. “You aren’t my type.”

Luka’s jaw dropped. “Excuse me?”

“You heard what I said. I don’t need people chasing after me.”

“I wasn’t thinking of ’chasing after you.’”

“Which is totally why you were staring at my butt.”

“I wasn’t- Whatever. It doesn’t matter.”

The stranger raised his eyebrow but didn’t push it. He sat down, had his hot chocolate (which haha had tea in it), and left the shop. Luka went to clear the table, but he found a number written on the receipt.

‘Okay I lied, you are my type.’ A number was written under it. ‘Ask for Felix.’

[fallingforyou123]

You Will Never Be A God-Une

Warnings: Slight language, implied smut, alight angst

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: Here is the official part one! Hope you'll like it, reblogs and feedback are always appreciated!

Series Masterpost

The sheets hung loosely around her frame, the only thing keeping her from being exposed to the cold air. The stranger laid beside her in a dazed out state, chest rising ever so slowly. A small cloud of smoke engulfed the both of them, a bad habit Stevi had picked up from an ex of hers.

“Those will kill you one day.”

“No more than sleeping with strangers will.”

“Touche.”

Stevi moved to get dressed, keeping quiet to avoid another conversation. Leaving was always bad, but leaving when there was still so much to be said was the worst. She couldn’t quite place it, but there was a feeling, something small sitting in her gut. It worried her, she’d never felt like this with a stranger. So safe and comfortable.

“Stay. Just till the morning, I’ll have my driver take you home.” Came the voice from the other side of the bed.

“No, definitely no. I have rules, no names, no staying. I can’t”

“What a lonely life you must live, to disconnect so much from those around you.”

Stevi looked at him, truly looked at him. He looked so much different than the man she met a couple hours ago. His perfectly gelled hair was nothing more than a brown mess atop his head, his eyes were clouded with a sleepy haze, and his suit had been replaced by a very thin sheet. He looked like someone she could see herself falling for back in university, she had to remind herself that this was a man with a lot of money, someone she’d probably dig up dirt on for an article.

She shook her head, she needed to leave.

After she finished dressing, she grabbed her bag from the front room and slipped out the door. Checking her phone she saw a couple missed calls from Brooke and an enthusiastic ‘be safe!’ text from Poppy. She quickly both, ensuring them that she was not dead in a ditch somewhere, before ordering an uber and hoping in the elevator.

***

The rest of the weekend had gone by in a blur. She’d spent all of Saturday nursing her hangover with ice cream and old reruns of Golden Girls in bed. Then Sunday was brunch with the girls at a little cafe where she was forced to share every detail of the events that unfolded Friday night, only leaving out how weird she had felt in the strangers' company. And then all too soon she was getting ready for a week of meetings and interviews.

Walking into the office, Stevi was greeted by her boss informing her that her 11am was now Stevi’s and ‘oh, look, he’s early.’ She mentally groaned, there was not enough caffeine in the world to make this worth it. Don’t get her wrong, Stevi loved her job, but god did she hate her boss. She was flakey, and whenever anything didn’t appeal to her, she’d simply give it to Stevi with barely any notice. There were far too many nights that she had to stay late because she was given a column to write only hours before it was due.

With a heavy sigh, she walks into the conference room, hoping that this won’t last long. “Good morning, my name is Stevi, I’ll be doing the interview today since Diane couldn’t be here.”

“Rule one.”

She whips her head up towards the man, “What?”

It’s in that moment that she realizes who this is, the man from Friday night. And coincidentally, Tom Holland. She should’ve known the other night who he was, his name and face had been plastered on the bulletin board for weeks, one of their most anticipated interviews this year. Tom was not only a pretty face, but the youngest CEO to be running an international company in decades. His father had started Holland and Co. Publishing almost 30 years ago, and only a few months ago he handed it over to Tom.

“I said, rule one darling. You’ve broken it.” She’d forgotten how lovely that voice was, remembering how captivating it was to have him whispering in her ear.

“I heard what you said, Mr. Holland.”

“Call me Tom, you’ve more than earned that privilege.”

“This is my place of work, not some stupid nightclub, I keep things professional here.”

Neither of them take their eyes off the other, a silent war taking place between the two of them.

“Well, if you’re such a professional, stop looking at me like you’re wanting to fuck me.”

A small gasp leaves Stevi. She stands up to leave, gathering her things, and looks at him with venom in her eyes, “Mr. Holland, I’m afraid that this interview is over, if you would please talk to the receptionist she will reschedule you in with someone other than me.”

A small look of shock crosses Tom’s face before he too stands, reaching out to grab Stevi’s arm, “Wait, I'm sorry. Sit down, I’ll be civil.”

Reluctantly, she does. Placing her notebooks in front of her and pulling out the recorder. Before she begins she gives Tom a warning look, “One word, one single word out of line, and this is over.” To which he nods and sits back, hands folded in his lap, looking like a true business man.

***

The rest of the interview goes by smoothly, only a couple of suggestive looks being thrown her way before he bites his tongue. Stevi’s never been more relieved to finish something in her life, the tension between the two becoming almost unbearable as the interview went on. “Okay, I think that’s all we need for the article, a draft will be sent to your assistant to go over before we publish it in next week's business column.”

Stevi stands quickly, ready to put everything behind her and spend the rest of her day hiding in her office. Before she can leave, a hand is wrapped around her arm once again, and body right behind her. “Let me take you to dinner, darling. A reward for being good.”

The voice in her ear sends a shiver down her spine, and for a second she debates it, “Tom, I can’t. I don’t mix business with pleasure, this is already a conflict of interest.”

“More of those damn rules. Live a little, let your guard down for once.” He looks at her with pleading eyes, something that makes him look more like his true age. That feeling sneaks its way back into again, and for a moment, while she stares into his eyes, nothing else exists. Just the two of them and a world of possibilities.

“If I say yes, this stays between us. The people we are here, and the people we are then are not the same. My job may not seem dangerous to you, but it could be very bad for me if someone gets the wrong idea.”

Tom nods, he knows all too well what she means. “Tonight at 7, meet me at The Garden on 22nd, I’ll make the reservation.”

She agrees, lets him put his number in her phone, and gives Tom one last smile before heading down the hall to her office.

She jumps when she sees someone sitting at her desk, “James, what are you doing here?”

“What, can’t check in on my favourite captain?”

“Not without a secret agenda, and last I checked, I have nothing to report to you, I’m off duty.” Stevi walks towards him, pushing his legs off of her desk.

“Ah, sweetheart, you’re never off duty. Not when you’re talking to men like that.” James points out the door, to where Tom can be seen talking to the receptionist.

“That is none of your business, James.”

“I want details, everything you can find out about him, on my desk by Friday, you know what’ll happen if it’s not. Have a good day Stevi.” And with that, James walks out of the room, leaving a chill hanging in the air.

Stevi suddenly can’t breathe, the four walls surrounding her feeling like a cage. She quickly grabs her things and walks to Dianes’ office, telling her there’s a family emergency and she’ll work on the article at home. Within minutes she’s scrambling to get into her car, dialing Poppys’ number, needing someone to calm her down.

She spends the rest of the day on Poppys’ couch trying to recover from her near mental breakdown. This life was never something she wanted, she’d been dragged into it by her ex. After he failed to complete a simple task, he was killed in their apartment, and she was responsible for finishing it out. But it’s never that simple, one task turned into two, and then four, and now she was too far in to be able to leave.

All too soon, it was 6:30 and she was leaving for her date with Tom. She’d left Poppys an hour ago, promising her that there was nothing to worry about, it had just been a bad day. She drove in silence, not wanting to focus on anything but the road. She got to the restaurant right on time, quickly being seated in one of the private rooms. She’d been here once before with her parents when she first moved to the city. They’d taken her out to celebrate and they’d spent the night drinking fancy wine and eating more food than they could’ve ever imagined.

Lost in her memories, she didn’t realise how much time had passed since she’d arrived. Checking her phone she saw that it was now quarter past, and no sign of Tom. She tries texting him, thinking maybe he’d gotten off of work late. By 7:30 she starts to panic, she’s 2 glasses of wine in and still no sign of him. To no avail, she calls him, worry turning into anger when it goes straight to voicemail.

It’s almost 8 when the waiter informs her that Tom has called, he won’t be making it, but to order whatever she likes and he’ll pay for it.

And so she sits there, wine glass in hand, wishing she’d never even met Tom.

[justthehiddleswrites]

Rumour Has It | Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Summary:  You are dating Tom Hiddleston but no one on set knows and you hope to keep it that way. When Tom’s big love scene comes up, your jealousy bubbles up and threatens to ruin the secret bliss you have created.

Warnings: jealousy, implied smut

-

“Someone will see us, Thomas.” you muttered as he pushed you against the door to his hotel room, his lips pressed against you.

“Let them see. I’m not ashamed of our relationship.” Tom pressed his hips into you. His hands raked down the sides of your body. “Unlike some people.”

You pushed Tom off of you and opened the door, slamming the door once you crossed the threshold.

You sighed. “It’s not shame and you know that. The rumour mill on set is bad enough under normal circumstances. I would rather not play out this relationship under the scrutiny of the cast and crew, thank you very much.” You slipped your shoes off and Tom did the same.

He sat on the edge of the bed to continue undressing. “You read too much into these things.” he smirked. “Everyone is too busy doing their job to pay attention.”

He beckoned you over as he tugged off his jeans. You slipped your panties off from under your dress and straddled his hips.

You cupped his face. “You are oblivious sometimes, aren’t you?” You kissed him, slipping your tongue into his mouth, hungry for more.

“I’m not oblivious to your effect on me.” Tom nipped at your neck.

You smirked as you wiggled in his lap. “And what effect is that?”

“Let me show you.” Tom pulled you tight against him.

-

You rode into the studio early that morning with Tom rather than waiting for your call time later in the day. Tom’s hand inched up your thigh in the back of the car.

“The driver will see.” you hissed, removing his hand, only for Tom to place it back on your knee immediately, squeezing.

“Frank is focused on the road.” Tom leaned over to nip behind your ear.

You shoved him back into his seat. “No!” you protested louder than you meant to.

“Everything alright back there, ma’am?” Frank called out, slowing down.

“Fine, Frank.” Tom responded. “She banged her knee against the console.”

You glared at Tom. “I’m about to bang something.” you whispered.

Tom leaned in close. “Save the dirty talk for later.” he teased.

You rolled your eyes before turning your attention to your phone for the rest of the ride. Once you arrived on set, Tom headed out to hair and makeup while you beelined for craft services. You skipped breakfast that morning for more “vigorous” activities.

“You’re here awfully early today.” a voice boomed behind you and you jumped, dropping your cup of tea.

You spun on your heels to punch Michael Sheen in the arm.

“Stop doing that! I dropped my tea.” You snatched a danish, reaching across Michael.

“If you’re so jumpy, perhaps more caffeine is not the answer.” Michael took a large bite of a cookie. “I would suggest decaf. And you still haven’t answer my question, why are you here?”

You took a long draw of coffee to avoid answer the question. Michael stared you down, tapping his foot in frustration.

“Can I help you?” you asked from behind your coffee mug and turned away from Michael to find a quiet place on set to watch Tom work.

“For heaven’s sake woman, it’s a simple question. It’s not like I’m accusing of having an illicit affair on set.” Michael blurted out.

You snorted coffee up your nose and started coughing, grateful you turned your back. Michael rushed to your side, pounded on your back.

“Breathe, darling. Breathe. So you have heard the rumours too?”

“I beg your pardon? What rumours?”

Michael grabbed you by the elbow and guided you behind a trailer. “There’s a bit of buzz of an on-set romance between our darling Thomas and someone.” he whispered conspiratorially.

You did your best to hide your shock. You did a poor job, but Michael took it as genuine surprise rather than embarrassment.

“Any idea who?” you choked out.

Michael glanced over his shoulder as though he was getting ready to spill State secrets, rather than flimsy gossip. “No idea. Which is why I would suggest keeping your eyes and ears open.”

A gaffer walked by and Michael leaned against the trailer looking like a cat who just ate the cream. He pointed his fingers at his eyes and then you as he strolled away.

“Eyes and ears open.” he hissed before ducking behind the trailer.

“Shit!” you muttered and stomped off to find Tom.

-

You never found Tom, chasing him throughout the production. By the time you caught up, he was prepping for a scene with the leading lady, Emma.

“What scene is this?” you asked a production assistant walking by. They shoved a script into your hand. You flipped to the tabbed page and read through the line.

“Fuck…”

“Precisely, my dear.” Michael sidled up to you again. “Do you think Mr. Hiddleston over there has a clause in his contracts, he must have a love scene in his films?”

You cleared your throat. “I wouldn’t know.”

“I know I would have a clause like that if I had an ass like that.” He sipped his tea.

“Michael!” You punched the man for the second time that day. Hardly a record for you.

“I’m just commenting. You can’t tell that is not a magnificent ass.” He grabbed you by the wrist and dragged you to the other side of the set before you could answer. “Let’s get a better view.”

Your stomach dropped as you saw Tom and Emma standing around in bathrobes. The director came to speak to the both of them and they nodded before slipping under the covers of the bed and handed their robes off. Tom whispered into Emma’s ear and she giggled. You seethed on the inside. Final light checks and the director strolled back to the camera.

“Action!”

Tom rolled on top of Emma and inhaled her before a moment before kissing her with a fervor. You overheard the smacking and dug your nails into the heels of your hands. Tom’s hips rolled underneath the covers and Emma moaned in response.

“I guess we know who the other half of the rumour is.” Michael hummed in your ear before sipping his tea.

You stormed off set leaving Michael in a daze. You ended up in Tom’s trailer, seething. You spied a picture of the two of you on a cork board by Tom’s bed. It was the two of you smiling out at a local pub. The entire cast and crew went out that night. And you and Tom stayed back after everyone else left. You sang off key karaoke and when Tom walked you back to your hotel room; he kissed you goodnight. The next morning you prepared yourself for him to shrugged it off as a drunken mistake when Tom showed up with coffee and croissants, but he asked you to dinner instead.

As tears fell onto your cheeks, the door opened to the trailer. Tom stepped in, back in his bathrobe. You wiped the tears from your face and put on a forced smile.

“Darling? Are you all right?” He grabbed your hands. “Michael said you stormed off set. You’re not sick are you?” His brow pinched in worry.

“Just a little sick to my stomach.” you snapped back.

“I’ll have someone bring you a ginger ale and some crac…” His voice trailed off as he caught your expression. “Oh. Are you mad about Emma?” He hooked his thumb towards the door.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Why would be mad at my boyfriend basically having sex with a gorgeous and talented actress?” You spat out the words like a foul taste in your mouth.

Tom smiled. “I didn’t hear you complaining last night.” His joke fell flat as you stared blankly back at him.

“Michael says there’s a rumour you are dating someone on set.”

“Well that’s more than a rumour and you know that.” He pulled you closer and wrapped his arms around your waist. You turned your head to avoid his kiss. “Are you jealous of Emma?” Tom smirked.

“No.” you lied.

“You are!” Tom’s eyes widened. “You’re jealous of Emma. It’s acting, darling. You should know that better than anyone, love scenes are part of this job. But it means nothing.”

Your lip trembled, and you sniffled. “It seems so real in the moment. The moans and the…” You broke down sobbing.

Tom hugged you tight against his chest. “Shhh, darling. You are the one I want to be with. And the rest is just bullshit and mirrors.” He cupped your face. “I love you.”

Tom leaned down and for a split second his mouth opened to inhale you before pressing his lips to yours. You wrapped your arms around his neck and yanked you both down to the bed. Tom settled between your legs, hips pressed against you.

“That’s the first time you have said that.” you panted when the two of you broke contact.

“It is. But I meant every word. I love you. Do you feel the same?” Tom’s eyes glistened as he searched your face for a sign.

“I do.” Your fingers ran along his cheekbones. “I love you too.”

Tom smiled before kissing you again. His tongue slipping into your mouth and you did the same. Your hands ran along his back and tugged at the tie on the bathrobe.

“Thomas, have you seen—” Michael stopped in his tracks at the sight of you and Tom entangled on his bed. “I see that you have. This explains so much.” Michael rocked back on his heels.

Tom turned to stare at Michael. “Not a word.”

Michael gestured, zipping his lips. “Not a peep.”

You sat up. “I mean it, Sheen. If I get wind of a single rumour. I’m coming for you.”

Michael nodded. “I am the soul of discretion.” He thumbed at the door. “I’ll see myself out.”

Once the door latched shut, you and Tom glanced and each other before bursting into laughter.

He pecked your lips before kissing your nose and then forehead. “I need to get back on set. Are we good?”

You nodded. “Yes. I need to get to hair and makeup myself.”

“You are beautiful without it.” Tom smiled back.

“Thank you. And I need to put the fear of God into Mr. Sheen.”

Tom lifted himself off of you, tightening his robe. “An excellent plan. That man is the worst gossip.”

You giggled and kissed Tom one more time. “Meet me here after work?” You teased his chest through the top of the robe.

Tom tugged at the bottom of your shirt. “Do you have any plans?” His lips twitched at the corners into a smile.

“Bring your script. You definitely need more rehearsal time for that love scene.”

“I’m willing to put in the hours if you are.” he teased.

“Well, it’s for the film.”

“Ever the professional.” Tom smirked before kissing you as you walked out the door to hunt down Michael.

[quokkacore]

mojave, mo’problems (m)

summary: throughout your life, you’d been told that a life of crime was the loneliest of all. now, however, your boyfriends, johnny and jaehyun, a pair of bank robbers, and you, their getaway driver, beg to differ.

pairing: seo johnny x jeong jaehyun x fem reader

genre: SMUT, fluff, minor angst, found family, criminals!au

warnings: poly relationship, language, guns, mentions of cops (acab!!!), armed robbery, mentioned physical, mental and emotional abuse, reader, johnny and jaehyun are from broken homes, mentioned alcohol abuse, overuse of pet names :’), unprotected sex (dont be silly wrap ur willy!!), JAEHYUN HAS NIPPLE PIERCINGS, minor daddy kink? its used like,, once, dirty talk, threesome, boyxboy, soft dom johnny switch jaehyun, sub reader, hair pulling, slight overstimulation, orgasm denial, spitroasting, praise kink, size kink, mentions of double penetration, blowjobs, cunnilingus, general filth

song recs: stevie nicks & don henley - leather & lace ♡ nct 127 - fly away with me ♡ lana del rey - national anthem ♡ triple h - retro future

word count: 9.4k

a/n: this was originally uploaded to my old writing blog on july 22nd, 2020. there were a few things in the original a/n that i wanted to keep. one, due to how multicultural los angeles is, i imagine the reader being latina or bipoc, but i make no mention of skin color!! two, i blame the w korea johnjae photoshoot for this. the room they were shooting in and the hawaiian shirts totally gave me desert motel vibes. and finally, pls stay safe, wash ur hands, and pls keep urself informed on current issues with resources like this carrd. <3

Burbank, Los Angeles, California, 12:22 PM

“You both remember the plan, right?"

"Yeah, John.”

“Oh my god, Johnny, we went over the plan seven times last night and twice on the way here. We know what to do.”

Johnny huffed, staring pointedly at you before rolling his eyes.

“…Fine. We’ll take less than fifteen minutes, okay? You know what to do, smart girl."

You looked at Johnny, who was sitting shotgun next to you, as his hand came up to touch the back of your head, gaze warm.

"Be careful,” You said, eyes moving to the rearview mirror, where you met Jaehyun’s eyes, “Both of you.”

Jaehyun nodded, his hand coming up to cover Johnny’s. “We will be. You be careful too, baby.”

You mirrored his action, nodding, and watched as they got out of the car to walk one block down to the bank. You watched them until they disappeared from sight, drumming your fingers on the steering wheel to calm your nerves. You were grateful Johnny had chosen this quiet, relatively empty street to wait on, avoiding calling attention to yourself.

Even after two years of doing this, it still made you nervous to wait for their signal to drive up to the front with your face mask on. One of the two burner phones you’d acquired a week prior was burning a hole in your pocket, the other tucked safely into Jaehyun’s.

You let out a deep breath, letting your eyes close for a moment, briefly thinking back to the first time you’d met them. You were nineteen, Jaehyun was twenty-one, and Johnny twenty-three.

Downtown, Los Angeles, California 3:48 AM

Two years ago, you had been working a shitty job at an old 50s style diner in the more dangerous side of LA to scrounge up enough money to run away from a less-than-ideal home life. The only noise of the diner, coming from the old jukebox in the corner crooning out some old Stevie Nicks song, was broken up by two tall, handsome men entering and sitting at a booth from across each other. You were immediately wary of them. They were obviously trying not to draw attention to themselves, but it was a bit difficult with their statures and hunched backs, leaning close to each other and whispering in rushed tones.

Still, after gathering your pen and notepad, and grabbing a pair of menus, you approached the table, doing your best to put on a customer service smile despite your feet aching and head pounding from your exhaustion.

“Welcome to Ernie’s. Can I get you boys anything?” You asked quietly, setting down the menus on the table. The two men exchanged glances, before the taller one spoke.

“For now, two black coffees would be great—”

“Actually, can I get a burger with some fries?”

Your eyes darted to the shorter one, who was sporting a small, friendly smile as he fiddled with the menu.

You nodded, pulling out the notepad to write down the order. “Do you still want both coffees, or…?”

“Uhh, sure. Why not, we could use the caffeine.” He chuckled softly, and your smile got bigger at the pleasant noise. Even through the early morning hour daze, you could pick up on his charm from miles away.

“Sure thing, I can bring you guys the coffee right now, but your burger and fries might take a little bit. Anything else I can get you?”

The taller man on your left gazed up at you with wide brown eyes rimmed with dark circles underneath, totally devoid of any emotion. “We’re good, thanks.”

As you approached the kitchen window to hand the cook the order, you were able to pick up on a few not so subtle murmurs.

“Why are you in such a good mood, Jaehyun? It’s three in the morning, Yuta bailed on us and the shipment is coming in four days and we don’t even have half of a plan.”

Pouring the coffee as quietly as you could, you strained your ears to listen. Maybe if you hadn’t been so exhausted, you wouldn’t have eavesdropped, but you’d been working since 10 PM. Your head hurt, your feet ached, and you were in the mood for some entertainment, and now your curiosity had been piqued.

“Babe, calm down. I told you I have another guy who could work as our getaway driver—”

“I wouldn’t get into another car with Yangyang behind the wheel if I were covered in full fucking body armor. And I’m sure as hell not letting him be our getaway driver!” As you set the old white mugs on your serving tray, your breath hitched at his agitated whisper.

Getaway driver?

“We’re robbing a bank for Christ’s sake, Jae, not playing bumper cars.”

As you turned to face the two from behind the counter, they immediately tensed. You pretended not to have heard anything, flashing them an innocent smile as you cautiously set the mugs down on the table.

“You’re lucky I made a new pot a half hour ago! Not too hot, but not super cold either.”

The man on the right, who you now knew was named Jaehyun, had tried his best to put on his first smile, but it wasn’t working too well. It looked slightly too forced, too tight-lipped to be believable. “Thank you…” He said through somewhat gritted teeth, briefly glancing at your nametag, “…Y/N.”

“You’re very welcome,” You replied, tempted to know what would happen if you added on his name since you’d only heard it while eavesdropping, but quickly decided against it.

“If you need anything else, don’t be afraid to let me know.”

You quickly headed back to the counter, pretending to mind your business as you wiped down the counter. They murmured to each other about needing a fast driver, and the taller, stricter man, who you soon learned was named Johnny, was grumbling about needing someone able to drive as fast as this Yuta guy or even faster.

You remained silent, but all too pensive over the tempting ideas popping into your head upon hearing about their predicament.

All too soon, Jaehyun’s food was ready, and you brought it over, an innocent smile plastered once more over your face as you set it down, but said nothing when you straightened yourself. Unmoving, you met Jaehyun’s eyes. His dark eyes looked slightly alarmed, gaze darting between yours and Johnny’s.

“You know,” You hummed, after taking a deep breath, “For two people planning a crime, you’re both incredibly stupid. You do realize I heard basically everything, right?”

The two men stiffened again, momentarily panicking as they locked eyes, but that quickly melted into confusion when you giggled at their reactions.

“That being said, you’re also both incredibly lucky that Doug, the cook, is a ‘Nam veteran who can’t hear out of his left ear, and that I am a very fast driver who is in desperate need of some good cash.”

Johnny’s eyes were unreadable. “You. A waitress. A fast driver.” His teeth were gritted, and his tone agitated.

“I hate to toot my own horn,” You sighed sarcastically, unsure where your sudden confidence was coming from, “But I know what I’m talking about. I grew up around cars. Both of my parents are mechanics. I practically grew up in their garage. I have some older cousins who drag race on the weekends and taught me how to. I drove my first car when I was like, twelve.”

“What if we say no?” Jaehyun asked, eyes now void of any friendliness, “What then?”

You held up your phone, which had been hiding in your apron pocket, 911 already dialed. You saw Johnny swallow when he saw the numbers, Adam’s apple bobbing as he did so. You felt a surge of power rush to your head, having caught the scarier of the two men now looking like a deer in headlights.

“All I need to do is call. I’m sure the cops would be thrilled to take a look at all the weapons you say you have in your trunk. I want in. You either do this with me or not at all, assholes.”

The two stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity. They seemed to be having an entire conversation with just their eyes. You tried your best to hide the shaking in your knees and the tremble in your fingers, to ignore the fact that this could easily backfire. If they were considering robbing a bank, they were automatically dangerous. One of them could easily have a gun with them here, and they could very easily pull it out and use it to hurt you or Doug.

Finally, Johnny sighed. He didn’t look very happy, but there was a glint in Jaehyun’s eyes that gave you catharsis.

“Alright, sweetheart,” Johnny said in a cold voice, “Let’s talk business.”

Everything had spiraled from there. You took them for a drive around the city to show them just how fast you could be, they opened themselves up to you being their third musketeer. The first time you robbed a bank, they were there to comfort you after you panicked at the idea of living on the run.

Eventually, you found out about their relationship as lovers, and they found out why you were so willing to drop everything and run away with two strangers, among other things. The story of how you drove your first car at twelve because your alcoholic parents were too wasted to drive to the grocery store, how you were cautious to hide the scars of cigarette burns along your inner forearm. After that, they opened up to you as well.

Why Jaehyun ran away from a promising life studying pre-med at an Ivy League University where expectations were eternally piled onto his shoulders, like Atlas holding up the sky. Why Johnny left suburban Chicago behind for LA at sixteen, tired of the monotony of a normal life where everything in his life had to look perfect, everywhere except behind the curtains of his house because his parents couldn’t stand him being attracted to both women and men, since it wasn’t befitting of the perfect family they so desired to be.

Somewhere along the lines, your strange business relationship of robbing banks and splitting the money equally three ways blossomed into something just as strange, but even better, something you’d never expected. You found yourself falling in love with the both of them, growing into the loving family you’d always wanted but of which you’d always been deprived. They both became fiercely protective of you, and after months of them calling you love, baby, sweetheart, princess, they finally asked you to become a permanent part of their relationship, and you accepted.

You expected so many things to happen in your life, but never to fall in love like this. And it was better than anything you could have asked for. They kept you safe and reminded you that you were worthy of love, something you hadn’t felt growing up.

The sudden vibrating of the burner in your pocket snapped you out of your reverie, and you quickly pulled on the black ski mask over your face before you started the car, not hesitating to speed towards the bank. You could hear police cars in the distance, and you took a deep breath as you rolled up to the front door, where the boys were currently exiting, bags full and guns out.

Your chest swelled with a strange sense of pride as they bolted into the car, shouting at you to drive.

Outrunning the police was a challenge, as always, but you were always faster, despite the fact that the boys had to keep telling you to wiggle your fingers since they were so stiff on the wheel and the last thing you needed was for your hands to cramp up now. Sure, you damaged the car a bit, but you could care less. This wasn’t actually your car. This was the car you’d hotwired almost a week ago, the real getaway car was hiding in a rather empty parking building, which you managed to enter and exit without much difficulty, now riding in a blue station wagon rather than the red Pontiac you’d driven to the bank. You all pulled off your masks, Jaehyun laying down to hide himself from the view of the window behind you.

Soon enough, you were out of Los Angeles, driving east towards the state line, and Jaehyun settled into the back seat. You drove for hours, the mood in the car finally having settled into an excited one a few minutes after leaving LA.

“How much did you guys manage to pull out of them?” You asked with a grin, and Johnny and Jaehyun shared a look, something that they always did.

“Baby girl, we managed to get 900,000 dollars from ‘em, we got ‘em good.” God, if you weren’t driving, you would have kissed Johnny then and there. Instead, you shrieked, “Nine hundred thousand!? That’s the biggest amount we’ve pulled yet!”

Jaehyun leaned forward, resting his chin on the front seat as Johnny looked back at him, pressing a soft kiss to the younger’s lips. “We’re celebrating big time, tonight,” Johnny declared once he pulled away from Jaehyun’s lips, much to Jaehyun’s dismay.

“How much longer till we get there?” Jaehyun asked, deep voice rumbling with satisfaction, mostly undeterred from Johnny’s teasing.

You glanced at the clock built into the dashboard, green lights blinking 4:18 PM. “I could get us there in two hours, but I don’t wanna draw attention by speeding. I’d much rather get to the motel at around eight.”

“Take your time, baby girl,” Jaehyun told you, leaning over even further to press a warm kiss to your temple, and your fingers stiffened on the wheel once more, “Whatever you feel works best.”

“Not too long, though,” Johnny added, “I don’t wanna piss myself before we get there.”

Both you and Jaehyun processed what he said, and immediately burst out laughing afterwards.

Yeah, these were the idiots you fell in love with.

The desert seemed endless, nothing in sight for miles but arid dirt and plants along the road. Somewhere along the road, as the sun began to set in the distance, Jaehyun pulled out his real phone from one of his suitcases in the back of the car, playing soft rock for the three of you to listen to as day turned to night, and the lampposts on the side of the road turned on.

There were far and few towns in between the vast expanse of desert, and because of that the stars shone bright in the limitless sky. When you saw the first flash of the moon up above, a song Jaehyun had put on had just ended, and a familiar Stevie Nicks song started playing afterwards. You smiled to yourself, humming along to the soft, tinkling melody.

Lovers forever, face to face                         

My city, your mountains

Stay with me, stay

I need you to love me

I need you today

Give to me, your leather

Take from me, my lace…

Eventually, after an eternity, you passed the sign you’d been so looking forward to seeing.

Welcome to Verona, Nevada

Population: 1,239

The motel wasn’t that hard to find, as it was just off of the highway. Johnny signed in in under 10 minutes, and you settled into the room on the second floor as quickly as you were allowed. The room smelled like mothballs and the carpet looked like it had once been a deep forest green, but was now a dark brown.

Yes, it was disgusting, but this was necessary to lay low for a while. Posing as three friends on a road trip crashing in a dingy motel for the night was generally the ploy. Next morning you would be out on the road again, driving further away from LA, then after a few days, you would finally return back to your shared apartment.

The three of you carried in the suitcases where the bags had been hidden in, and while you were stretching your legs and Jaehyun was showering, Johnny ordered three large pizzas using the phone on the nightstand.  

You lay down on the large, lumpy mattress a few minutes later, grabbing the remote and turning on the small, ancient TV across the room. The bed was lower than what the average bed was for some reason, and you suspected that the frame had broken at some point, and that the motel either didn’t know or didn’t care.

Regardless of how the mattress felt, your eyes started to droop despite flicking through the channels. You could feel your mind start to relax as you let go of your driver mindset, releasing pent up tension and alertness. Johnny turned to face the TV, sparing you a glance with his eyebrows raised.

“The news?”

“You know it, big boy."

He stalked over to where you were and plopped himself down to sit next to you, not hesitating to pull you into his lap. You smiled as he wrapped his hands around your waist, large hands spanning across your skin easily. The TV, now stuck on a channel showing some melodramatic Mexican telenovela, seemed to fade into the background.

"You did so well, today, baby,” He murmured, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, “We all did really good.”

You smiled softly at his gentleness, hands meeting his on your waist, before turning your head enough to meet his gaze, nose brushing against his. His big, brown eyes were hooded, whether from tiredness or admiration of your features, you weren’t sure, but you gave it no further thought once he pressed his lips to yours.

His lips were slightly chapped, and you made a mental note to nag him later to drink more water. One of his hands came to brush some hair out of your face, and you became hyper-aware of each of his movements.

“Hmm, Johnny…"

"Shh, baby girl, let me kiss you a little bit more.”

When his lips came back to yours, his movements became more aggressive, pushing his tongue into your mouth as his grip on your waist tightened. Your breath hitched as you sucked on his tongue, whining softly against his mouth.

“Fuck,” you heard Jaehyun groan from the other side of the room, and Johnny pulled away before you could protest. Your eyes cracked open, hooded eyes finding Jaehyun bathed in warm light from the bathroom. His hair was still kind of damp and he hadn’t bothered buttoning his shirt up.

“Hey, gorgeous,” Johnny greeted, and you bit your lip at the teasing lilt in his tone, “Care to join us?"

"I was gonna wait until after dinner,” Jaehyun said, setting his towel on one of the chairs in the room, “But if you insist…”

“Jae,” You called, voice soft, “Come here, pretty boy.”

Jaehyun smiled as he approached you, standing right in front of you and Johnny, who had now started pressing kisses against your neck. “You want a kiss, princess?”

You nodded as best you could with Johnny sucking on your neck, pouting up at Jaehyun, who in return leaned down and grasped your face before pulling you into a kiss. He tasted like the watermelon bubblegum he always carried around in his pocket. One of your hands came up to comb through his wet, brown hair, nails scratching against his scalp, and he groaned quietly against your lips.

“You’re both so hot,” Johnny murmured against your ear, and you whined at his deep voice, both you and Jaehyun pulling away to look at him, the two of you evidently affected by what he was saying.

To say Johnny was the leader of your relationship was a bit of an understatement. Johnny was the mastermind behind most of your heists, and commanded a presence over both you and Jaehyun, wherever you were. Where Johnny went, you and Jaehyun followed with few objections, trailing behind him like ducklings. Johnny, in return, accepted his more dominant role easily, and did his best to take care of you both.

Sometimes, you wondered if your upbringings influenced the dynamics of your relationship. Maybe Johnny was  eager to dominate the both of you because he was raised under strict, controlling parents dictating his every move and treating him as their little puppet. Jaehyun submitting to Johnny, but not to you, out of the need to please as a kid who had been emotionally neglected but forced to live up to his family’s expectations. And you, submitting to both of them because you were forced to take care of yourself and your parents from a young age when it should have been the other way around.

The moment was broken by a knock at the door, the three of you immediately tensing up. “It’s just the pizza guy,” Jaehyun whispered in reassurance, taking a deep breath, but it didn’t do much to calm your nerves.

“Jae,” Johnny said, nodding toward him, looking alert, “Look through the peephole first. Wait for me.”

Jaehyun nodded, standing slowly. You were taking deep breaths in an attempt to keep yourself calm, but the possibilities of it being anyone but the pizza guy were causing your heart to beat into overdrive. LA police. Nevada police. State troopers. The FBI. Those weird Hungarian guys Jaehyun pissed off a few months ago. Suddenly it was all of them, waiting to burst into the room and take your family away from you.  

Johnny set you down on the bed, flashing you a soft look before pulling the back of his button up to reveal a gun hiding in the waistband of his pants, putting a hand on the grip, just in case. You stood, watching as Jaehyun slowly approached the door to look through the peephole, his eyes dark and eyebrows furrowed, heart pounding in your chest. He shut one eye, looking through the small hole in the door, before allowing his shoulders to slump a moment later, and giving you both a thumbs up.

Coast clear.

You sighed in relief, sitting back down on the bed as Jaehyun stepped away from the door. Johnny handed Jaehyun his gun, pulling out his wallet from the pocket of his pants, and swung open the door, beginning a casual discussion with the delivery man as he pulled some money out of his wallet, before grabbing the pizzas and telling the guy to keep the change.

He closed the door, waiting a few seconds before sighing in relief as well and slumping against it.

“Jesus fuck, that’s one way to kill a boner,” He muttered, looking up as Jaehyun set down the gun on the nightstand.

“Y/N, you should have seen your face,” The younger man said while he stifled a laugh, coming closer to wrap his arms around you, and you huffed.

“Fuck off,” You told him, rejecting his embrace, and pouted, “I was genuinely about to piss myself.”

Jaehyun laughed again, and you retaliated by punching him in the arm, but not too hard, but he still grabbed your hand and pulled you towards Johnny, who had since set the pizzas down on the desk and locked the door again. He opened a box and grabbed a slice, and your spat with Jaehyun was forgotten, especially after having been on the road for over eight hours without stopping to eat.

Jaehyun grabbed another slice, eagerly taking a large bite before his eyes turned to the TV, which was still playing the Mexican telenovela. He raised an eyebrow after a few moments.

“Why are we watching Pasión de Gavilanes?” He asked, reading the name of the show as it cut to a commercial break.

“I was looking for the news,” You replied, giving Johnny a sideways glance, “But someone had other ideas.”

Johnny shrugged, already on his second slice of pizza. “You didn’t seem to mind,” He said after swallowing his food, eyes alight with mischief. You rolled your eyes, but didn’t deny him, and watched as he walked back to the bed, where the remote lay abandoned. He began switching through the channels until he finally stumbled upon the nine o’clock news report on a random channel, and the three of you quietly made your way towards the bed, all three of you waiting for the exact same thing.

And when it came, it was amazing. You were the main story, the breaking news of the armed robbery that had occurred in one of the safest parts of the city.

The three of you huddled together, occasionally getting up to pick up more slices of pizza, all relishing in having your egos stroked as the reporters all went over the details of the heist, how, when the police searched the getaway car (which had been mysteriously abandoned), no trace of any of the thieves were found, that any and all fingerprints didn’t match with any already registered in the LAPD’s database.

“The FBI has already involved itself in the investigation, believing this is the work of the same perpetrators as the Municipal Bank of Santa Monica six months ago, where two assailants…” The female reporter faded into the background, and you nodded to yourself, finishing your pizza happily. You peeked over at Jaehyun, who had a smug look on his face, satisfaction evident. You looked back to the TV as the scene changed, ignoring Johnny as he shifted next to you.

“We have no way  to identify the perpetrators,” A representative for the FBI explained, “All we know is that the suspects are two males, both taller than six feet, and a female of unknown stature. All are believed to be between early and mid 20s.”

You zoned out for the rest of the report, content at both the fullness in your stomach and the lack of evidence the police had against you, before feeling Johnny shift next to you again. You furrowed your eyebrows, turning your head to look at him, only to raise your eyebrows as you realized what was going on.

Your eyes looked down to Johnny’s hand, which had drifted to between Jaehyun’s legs. Jaehyun was slumped against Johnny’s side, panting quietly as Johnny’s hand groped him roughly. Johnny’s gaze met yours, dark eyes twinkling.

“And to think he told us off for not being able to wait,” He murmured, and Jaehyun hummed at the deep roll of his voice. “Come on, princess. Help me make him feel good.”

You nodded, knowing better than to disobey Johnny when he got like this. You lowered yourself to your knees, crawling towards Jaehyun. Johnny moved again, this time sitting behind Jaehyun so he could begin to unbutton Jaehyun’s shirt. You placed yourself in between Jaehyun’s legs, hands coming up to touch the tent in his white shorts.

“I’ve been wanting to do this all night,” You sighed, reaching to unzip his pants. Jaehyun looked down at you, face flushed, but eyes still burning with lust. “That desperate, baby?”

“For you two, always,” You answered quietly, pulling his pants down as he wiggled his hips. Johnny slid the button up down the younger man’s arms, leaving Jaehyun in black boxers. You glanced at Johnny, who was kissing the back of Jaehyun’s neck, big hands sliding up and down Jaehyun’s toned torso, purposely avoiding the metal studs embedded in Jaehyun’s nipples, something you knew Jaehyun loved for Johnny to play with. You bit your lip, not missing  the fact that Johnny was rocking his hips steadily against Jaehyun’s.

You eyed the bulge in Jaehyun’s boxers hungrily, feeling your core heat up at the thought of what was to come, before pulling down the garment and freeing Jaehyun’s dick. He hummed at the feeling, and you didn’t hesitate to wrap a hand around it.

Jaehyun’s head fell back, breath hitching as you pressed a kiss to his tip, and Johnny chose that moment to tug on the piercings. “Fuck, John,” He muttered, eyes squeezing shut.

“Don’t be mean, pretty boy,” Johnny cooed, fingers flicking the nubs incessantly, “Y/N’s helping you out too, don’t ignore her.”

“Y-Y/N—Shit, baby, nngh…”

You smiled at his whine, before taking his tip into your mouth, Jaehyun’s hips instinctually moving to thrust into your mouth. Your hand moved to stroke what you couldn’t fit into your mouth, listening to Johnny whisper filth into Jaehyun’s ear, not letting up his fingers, despite Jaehyun’s squirming.

His pretty face was flushed, letting out soft moans as Johnny tugged on the metal and pressed open mouthed kisses against his neck. You closed your eyes, focusing on hollowing your cheeks and making him feel good. He hissed when he hit the back of your throat, and your eyes opened as you forced yourself not to gag. Drool was pooling in your mouth, threatening to spill down your chin.

“She’s so pretty like this, John…” Jaehyun’s voice sounded breathless as his hands wound into your hair, keeping it out of your face. Your eyes screwed shut, whining quietly at his praise.

"She’s fucking gorgeous when she’s sucking cock,” Johnny growled against Jaehyun’s neck, voice guttural and dangerous, “And she loves it. Isn’t that right, princess?”

Jaehyun’s hand tightened against your scalp, trying to pull you off of his cock. “Give him an answer, baby girl.”

You pulled away from him, hand still gripping his shaft, still pumping slowly. You gasped for air, and the spit that had been gathering in your mouth spilled onto your chin, and they both groaned in unison at the sight. “I love it, John,” You murmured, meeting his dark stare. “Baby, you’re both so big, you both stretch me out so good.”

Jaehyun groaned again, and Johnny hummed, pressing a kiss to Jaehyun’s temple before he stood from the bed. He pulled you up on top of the bed with them, pulling you into his lap. You wrapped your legs around his waist, smiling to yourself as you felt something hard poking at your core. “Jae,” Johnny hummed, and Jaehyun shuffled over to meet you both.

“Spit in her mouth,” Johnny ordered quietly, and you whimpered in delight. Jaehyun looked at you with mischief in his eyes, before grabbing your chin. Your mouth fell open without need for an order, and he pressed his nose against yours. Then he opened his mouth, and you moaned when his spit fell onto your tongue.

“Don’t swallow yet, princess.” Johnny’s voice was deep, dark, and you knew he was thoroughly enjoying watching the both of you. You kept your mouth open, as one of his hands came to hold the back of your neck, drawing him closer to you. He pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth, before opening his mouth and spitting in yours as well.

His eyes never left yours the entire time, nearly black with desire. His face was flushed, and the hand on your neck was hot.

“Swallow,” He growled against your mouth, and you couldn’t bring yourself to disobey. When you opened your mouth to show him how good you were being, he groaned and pressed his lips against yours in a bruising kiss. Your hands busied themselves unbuttoning his shirt, while his hands groped your ass, forcing you to grind against him. You moaned his name, and his tongue found itself into your mouth, taking the lead of the wet, messy kiss.

Your mind was quickly hazing up at the feeling of Johnny’s clothed cock rubbing against you through your denim shorts, but you still picked up on the sounds of skin against skin and panting coming from your left. You pulled away from Johnny’s lips to look towards Jaehyun. Johnny took this chance to tug your shirt off, leaving you in a plain purple bra. Your breath caught in your throat when your eyes fell to Jaehyun’s hands, Johnny’s lips trailing down to the skin of your collarbones.

Jaehyun had one hand stroking himself at a steady pace, the other wrapped around the base of his cock, as if he were trying to stave off an incoming orgasm. He was watching the both of you with eyes darker than the Mojave desert in the middle of the night.

“Jae,” You whined, breathless against Johnny’s frame, “C’mere and kiss me, baby.”

“Yeah?” Jae answered, just as breathless as you, quirking an eyebrow up, “You want me, needy baby?”

You nodded in response, one hand reaching out to him. He leaned forward again, and your eyes fluttered shut as his lips landed against yours.

Jaehyun’s kisses were so different from Johnny’s. Jaehyun was gentler, but he didn’t need to tease you by letting you dominate the kiss and then taking over. No, Jaehyun dominated the kiss from the beginning, plump lips sliding against yours, hands leaving his cock to caress your sides, brushing over Johnny’s hands very briefly. Then, they moved to your back, unclipping your bra and discarding it somewhere on the bed.

He pulled away from your lips, and Johnny, who had been sucking a purple mark into your shoulder, did the same. You noted that all of your chests were heaving. Johnny’s hands were still moving your hips against his, and the pleasure left your mind reeling.

“You close, princess?” Jaehyun asked, and you shook your head. “N-not yet, but… s-soon.”

“Look at how pretty our baby girl is, Jaehyun,” Johnny murmured,  dark eyes glittering in adoration as he watched your hips speed up of their own accord, rutting against him like a mindless animal. Jaehyun hummed in agreement, leaning his head against Johnny’s shoulder. Your head tipped back, unable to handle both of them looking at you, looking through you, as you fell apart on Johnny’s lap.

“You’re so perfect, Y/N. So good for us, baby girl.”

By now, the fabric of your shorts and your panties against your core were starting to feel uncomfortable, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You were so lost in hazy pleasure, head swimming with nothing but thoughts of your two lovers. Your hands linked around Johnny’s neck, trying to find something to tether yourself to the mortal world, because you were certain that if you didn’t, you would float off into space, never to be seen again.

“Ah, f-fuck,” You said, “L-love you both so much…”

Jaehyun’s hand caressed your neck, before coming to caress your cheek. He moved your head as well, forcing you to meet his eyes. His eyes were warm, clouded with desire. Your gaze flickered between his face and Johnny’s, and you whined again. They were watching you wordlessly, in a way that made you feel safe, loved, needed, and even though it’d been about a year and a half since they started looking at you like that, it never failed to make your head spin in love and arousal.  

Johnny let loose a lazy smile at your words, hips bucking against your own. “We love you too, princess. You’re so sweet, do you wanna come soon?”

You nodded desperately, opening your mouth to answer but moaning instead when Johnny pressed you down even more against his cock. They both laughed at your noise, and you just had to laugh along with them.

The laughter died down a few moments later, and you felt yourself dangling over the edge. You just needed one little push, and a little push is what you got when Jaehyun turned his face to Johnny, and the older man met him for a kiss. Johnny growled against Jaehyun’s lips, biting down on his lower lip, and Jaehyun’s hand ran through Johnny’s hair, now sweaty and damp.

The sight of your lovers making out in front of you tipped you over the edge. Your eyes screwing shut, their names and profanities spilling from your mouth, moaning as the pleasure started in your hands and feet, before spreading up your arms and legs and taking over your body. Your hips didn’t stop moving, seemingly having a mind of your own, trying to draw out your orgasm as you clenched around nothing. All too soon, the sensation washed away, leaving you pliant and breathless in Johnny’s arms.

Your eyes opened to find that they hadn’t exactly broken away. They’d stopped kissing to pay attention to you, but they were still close enough for each other’s lips to remain against their own. When they finally separated, a small trail of spit connected their lower lips.

“That was so hot,” Johnny groaned, pressing your head against his chest, which was now bare, somehow. Jaehyun must have slipped off his shirt at some point without you noticing, you concluded in your frazzled state of mind. You closed your eyes as you allowed your breathing to return to normal, vaguely aware of your boys kissing each other a bit more.

“How are you doing, princess?” Jaehyun said once you had calmed down, no longer panting. His hand was caressing your side up and down, almost as if he was comforting you. You straightened your posture to look up at him and Johnny, giving them a soft, sleepy smile. Johnny’s big hands squeezed your hips as he spoke. “You wanna stop, or do you wanna keep going?”

You nodded, brushing away a damp strand of hair that was in your face. “I still haven’t gotten fucked by either of you,” You mumbled, “What makes you think I’m stopping before that happens?”

The pair exchanged a dark glance, wicked smiles gracing their faces before looking back at you.

“Clothes off,” Jaehyun ordered, “Now.”

You moved off of Johnny, legs wobbling slightly, to lay down next to them. You popped the button on your shorts and pulled down the zipper, watching as Jaehyun undressed Johnny, doing the same with his shorts as he kissed down the older man’s neck. You were left in now ruined cotton panties, the drenched fabric clinging to your folds in an awkward way. Your eyes turned to the pair in front of you as Jaehyun pulled down Johnny’s boxers, leaving him naked as well. They faced you, and Johnny grabbed you by the ankle, dragging you towards them with a soft smile on his face. You laughed quietly, the noise dying when Jaehyun grabbed your other leg as well and parted them, before lying in between them, face inches away from your core.

“John, baby,” He said, craning his neck to stare at him, “Can I…?”

“Go ahead, pretty boy,” Johnny replied, as he lay next to you, “Y/N made you feel good earlier, and we need to get her ready for us, right? You can return the favor, can’t you?”

Jaehyun nodded, and Johnny raised an eyebrow as he moved to lie next to you. “Words, baby boy.”

Jaehyun gulped, hands resting on your hips. “Yes, John.”

His hands reached for your panties, his eyes meeting yours as he pressed a kiss to your thigh. Your hand brushed some sandy brown hair out of his eyes, and you hummed as you watched him pull down the last piece of clothing, discarding it. “Jae,” You mumbled, “You’re so pretty, baby.”

Jaehyun smiled, the tips of his ears turning red. It had taken you a few weeks for you to put it together when you started dating, but you eventually figured out that Jaehyun loved getting praised. Anytime you or Johnny said something about how good or handsome he was, how nice he made either of you feel, he’d turn to putty in your hands.

He grabbed your thighs, pulling them over his shoulders, his face close to where you needed him most but did nothing. He was riling you up, you knew he was. He loved to do this, loved to wait how long he could wait before making you beg. “Babe,” You murmured, “Jae, please don’t tease me.”

His eyes twinkled with something you couldn’t read as he pressed another kiss to your thigh, big, rough hands gripping your hips possessively. “You beg so nicely, princess. How could I refuse?”

He lowered his mouth to your hole, and your eyes squeezed shut, hissing out at the sensitivity. Johnny pressed a kiss to your forehead. The hand that wasn’t tugging on Jaehyun’s hair shot out to grasp Johnny’s forearm. Johnny responded by grabbing your hand and guiding it to his cock, and you obeyed his silent command by wrapping your hand around him, pumping him slowly.

You could hear his breathing right next to your ear, combined with the wet sounds Jaehyun was making as he mouthed along your slit. You weren’t sure what to focus on, letting out a high keen as Jaehyun slid a finger inside of you, his mouth coming up to suckle on your clit.

“Ah, Jaehyun, baby,” You whined, hips trying to move, but being stopped by Jaehyun’s other hand, “F-feels so good.”

Jaehyun hummed against your clit, the vibration causing you to squirm even further, crying out his name. Already you could feel the familiar sensation in your lower stomach again, forcing you to focus on Jaehyun’s mouth, alternating between sucking your clit and flicking it with the tip of your tongue.

“You like how he’s making you feel, baby girl?” Johnny asked a few moments later, and you nodded as he pressed his forehead against your temple to whisper into your ear. “You like the way he’s being a good boy and eating your pussy like he’s starving?”

You nodded again, whining even louder when Jaehyun added a second finger. Johnny’s hand rose to your breast, teasing your nipple as your head fell back, hand falling into a sloppy rhythm against Johnny’s cock. He pinched harshly, and you tried to move away from his grip, but he wouldn’t let you. “Neither of you seem to want to use your words today, huh? Come on, princess, tell Jaehyun how much you like it.”

You opened your mouth, trying to speak, but shrieking when Jaehyun’s fingers began to thrust into you at a rapid pace. Your hips were bucking wildly against Jaehyun’s mouth and fingers now, despite his best efforts to hold you down.

“J-Jae, fuck, fuck, fuck… Ah, your fingers are s-so big… They’re fucking me so good, I-I’m so sensitive, I don’t think I can h-hold on much longer…”

“Aw, already?” Jaehyun teased from between your legs, fingers not letting up as he slowed down their pace, “It’s only been a few minutes.”

“Jaehyun,” You whined, grasp tightening on his hair, “I’m gonna come, p-please…”

“No.”

Your eyes shot open to glare at Johnny, breathing heavily as Jaehyun removed his fingers from your aching core, and your hand stopped its movement against Johnny’s dick. “Why not?” You whined, and Johnny sat up, propping himself against the faded maroon headboard of the bed.

“Because you’re not cumming again until both of us have.” His tone was stern, leaving no room for argument. His gaze, however, was warm. “Now, what’s gonna happen is this: you’re gonna get on your hands and knees, and pretty boy over there is gonna fuck you from behind, and you’re gonna let me fuck your face. Can you two do that for me?”

He was giving both you and Jaehyun the chance to drop it now, disguised under the illusion of a command. But you didn’t want to stop. You rarely did when it came to your boyfriends.

“Yes, John,” You and Jaehyun answered at the same time, looking at him. Johnny grinned, patting his thighs with both hands.

“Come here, Y/N. Hands and knees, like I said.”

You crawled over to him, eyes not leaving Johnny’s face. His dark eyes followed yours, face covered with a light sheen of sweat, hair brushed back to reveal his forehead. You leaned forward when you got to the spot where he ordered you to be, pressing a kiss to his jawline. Your mouth trailed down to his neck, smiling against his skin when you heard him sigh in satisfaction.

You felt the bed shift as Jaehyun came to kneel behind you, hands trailing down your back, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Your kisses trailed down Johnny’s tan skin, past his collarbones, across his pecs, down his stomach, ghosting along his right hip. Your lips left his skin as Jaehyun gripped your hip with one hand, using his hand to grind his dick against your soaking folds.

“You want me to put it in, baby?” Jaehyun asked you, and you nodded without hesitating, your face heating at your desperation. “Yes, Jae.”

“Suck Johnny’s dick and I’ll do whatever you want, lovely girl.”

His words were accompanied by Johnny’s hands touching the back of your neck, not pushing, but still commanding a certain power over you, still compelling you to lower yourself onto his cock.

One thing you’d learned very early on from having sex with both Johnny and Jaehyun, you thought as you let your mouth relax around Johnny’s dick, was that they were both bigger than the past lays you’d had. Jaehyun was a bit longer, but Johnny was thicker. Regardless, they both had the power to leave your legs shaking, and your throat scratchy for days.

Once you’d allowed your jaw to loosen enough, you began bobbing your head up and down slowly, tonguing along the underside of the shaft. Your hands held you up, grasping Johnny’s toned thighs for support. A rush came through you as you realized that those thighs were what had made you come earlier, and that helped you push Johnny even further down your throat.

A groan bubbled out of Johnny’s throat, and Jaehyun took that as his sign to push into you. You moaned against Johnny, and his groan got louder, hands pushing you even further against Johnny’s pelvis. You held back the urge to gag, forcing yourself to focus on breathing through your nose despite the intrusion in your mouth.  

Jaehyun’s movements started slow, letting you get used to the both of them fucking into you from both ends. He let out a low hiss as you clenched around him, hips grinding against you in a way that had you seeing stars.

It was as if they were connected telepathically, something unspoken between the two of them that always confused and amused you. You felt the amusement again as they both sped up the movements of their hips at the same time, a gradual buildup from teasing, subtle grinding, to harsh bucks of the hips, fucking in and out of you as if you were their own little tool for pleasure, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Any noises that left you were either muffled shrieks of pleasure as Jaehyun pounded away at your still sensitive pussy, or gagging noises, as Johnny’s hands forced you up and down his cock, bottoming out into your throat whenever he wanted to prolong little bursts of ecstasy. Tears were running down your face as he did so, and when he noticed, he let out a strained laugh.

“Hey, baby girl, are you crying because of my dick or Jaehyun’s?”

He pulled you off of him, and you took the chance to catch your breath before answering a few seconds later.

“B-both,” You moaned, and Jaehyun grunted in acknowledgement.

“Good,” He hummed, and you bit your lip as you fucked back against him, “Using our little girl like this feels so nice, doesn’t it, Johnny?”

“It feels fucking fantastic, pretty boy,” Johnny answered as you craned your neck to kiss along his shaft, “She’s so small, but she takes us both like a fucking champ. Maybe next time we should stuff her pussy and her ass at the same time… would you like that, angel?”

You cried out enthusiastically, stomach twisting at the suggestion. Jaehyun threw his head back, letting out a guttural groan.

“Oh, she’d love that, baby. You should’ve felt how much tighter she got when you said that.”

Johnny grinned, and lifted you off of his cock one more time.

“Hey, Y/N,” He said, lifting your chin to get you to look at him.

“H-hey, Johnny,” You whimpered, and Johnny pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“Get off his dick, princess,” He told you, loud enough for Jaehyun to hear, “I’ve got an idea.”

Jaehyun stopped his movements, pulling out of you. You whined at the sudden emptiness, and Johnny patted your head to calm you before standing. Given that the bed frame was a lot lower than most beds, it allowed him to tower over both you and Jaehyun as Johnny propped the younger man up, then told you to sit in his lap, letting Jaehyun slide back inside of you.

“I wanna watch you both,” He murmured lovingly, carding a hand through Jaehyun’s hair, who hummed happily. Your mind was turning fuzzy fast, clinging to Jaehyun and pressing soft kisses to his jaw.

“Can we still touch you, Johnny?” You asked, voice small, flashing him big, pouty eyes that he could seldom refuse as he sat back down at where he once was.

Johnny nodded, his hand moving to your head and repeating the movement he’d made on Jaehyun’s head. “Of course you can, baby,” He answered, “But you’ll do it when I say so and how I tell you to do it. Is that okay?”

“Yes, Johnny.”

“Okay.”

Johnny smiled at the both of you, and slowly Jaehyun began his rhythm again, fucking in and out of you slowly, before speeding up again. Your lips trailed down to his neck, sucking on a spot you wanted to leave a mark on, and your hands came up to toy with his nipple piercings, mimicking what Johnny had been doing to him earlier.

Jaehyun groaned, eyebrows furrowing and eyes fluttering shut as you began to move with him and tug at the piercings. He turned his head to lock eyes with Johnny, who was stroking himself as he watched the two of you gradually lose control against each other’s body. The two held each other’s gaze, Jaehyun’s eyes lowering first as he pressed a kiss to your  sweaty forehead.

“John,” Jaehyun pleaded, voice deep and teasing, “Come here, daddy, I wanna jack you off.”

Johnny raised an eyebrow. You and Jaehyun only brought out daddy when you wanted to be little shits to him and tease him more than usual. Nevertheless, he relented, standing and walking around the bed. Your eyes peeled open a few moments later, finding Johnny standing to the side of you, cock being stroked by Jaehyun as he continued to roll his hips into you.

Given that the bed was lower than usual, and Johnny was freakishly tall, his dick was more or less level with your faces, and through the hazy pleasure of Jaehyun pounding away at you, you got an idea.

You leaned slightly to the side, pressing a kiss to the head of Johnny’s member, and Johnny groaned as he realized what you wanted to do. Jaehyun seemed to like the idea, his hips fucking into you even faster once he registered what was going on.

Johnny used his knees to lean against the mattress, allowing you to lean back into your original position as he tipped his head back.

“Our dirty girl,” Johnny hissed, “You want cock so bad, don’t you? Can’t handle just one fucking you, you need another one down your throat.”

Jaehyun pulled you off of him. “Give him an answer, sweetheart,” He ordered, before taking your place and taking Johnny into his mouth.

“I’m yours,” You told them, “Want you both all day, all night, ngh, always… I love you both s-so much, I can’t handle not being fucked like this ever again…”

“You belong to us now, baby. We own you, body and soul.” Johnny’s voice was slightly strained now, but his words still held the same effect. You were eager to agree, unable to say anything as Jaehyun hit the one spot inside of you that had you crying out his name.

“Fuck, Jae! Right there!”

Jaehyun pulled off of Johnny’s cock, pulling you into a bruising kiss as he continued to hit your sweet spot time and time again.

“Yeah, you’re gonna cum again soon?” Jaehyun asked when he pulled away, and you nodded, before turning to Johnny and taking him into your mouth again.

“Don’t forget, princess,” Johnny said, “You can’t cum until either of us have. Understood?”

You nodded, trying to hold off the impending wave that was soon to crash on you.

“I’m so fucking close, Johnny,” Jaehyun mumbled, and Johnny gave a garbled agreement when Jaehyun’s free hand came up to stroke along with your hand.

“Me too, baby,” Johnny groaned, “You gonna fill Y/N up? Cum inside that tight pussy of hers?”

Your legs wrapped around Jaehyun’s waist, before you pulled your mouth away from Johnny, opting to stroke him as Jaehyun took him into his mouth once more.

“Give it to me, Jae,” You begged, voice shaky.

Johnny came first with a loud, “Fuck!” He watched as you and Jaehyun took turns licking away the cum as it shot out of the tip of his dick, tongues meeting occasionally as you both mouthed along the head.

“Shit, you’re both so good to me.”

Jaehyun’s orgasm came moments later. He buried his face in your neck, wrapping his arms around your waist as his pace turned sloppy and sporadic, filling you with hot cum as he groaned out both your name and Johnny’s. You whimpered at the sensitivity of your insides as he twitched against your walls, painting them white, but you didn’t stop bouncing in his lap.

“Y-you both came,” You moaned, desperate to cum. You could see on Jaehyun’s face that he was growing sensitive as well, but his hands on your waist weren’t stopping you at all. “Please let me cum, I’ve been a good girl…”

Johnny sat behind you, letting your head roll onto his shoulder. One hand wrapped around your neck, not squeezing, but still tight enough to send a thrill down your spine. “Yeah, you’ve been really well behaved tonight, baby. You weren’t as bratty as you usually are, hmm?”

You couldn’t answer, not when his other hand reached down to tap away at your swollen clit.

“J-John, ah—”

“You wanna cum, baby girl?”

You nodded, eyes squeezing shut as your hips took on a mind of their own.

“Then cum, sweetheart.”

And somehow, his deep, warm voice triggered your orgasm.

You threw your head back, almost positive that what you were speaking in tongues rather than actually saying anything coherent. You clung onto Jaehyun with one hand, writhing in his hold, and reached back to grip Johnny’s bicep. Beneath your eyelids, colors danced around you. You were certain this was what heaven felt like, and that this was some sort of divine ascension…

Verona, Nevada, 10:06 PM

When you managed to come down, you felt groggy, and your vision felt hazy, as if you were in a dream.  The only sound came from the three of you, breathing heavily as you recovered from what had just happened. The room smelled like sex, sweat, and oddly enough, greasy pizza.

“Y/N?” Jaehyun murmured, “You still with us?"

You nodded, trying to ignore the scratchiness in your throat. "Yeah… ‘m good. Came really hard.”

Johnny chuckled from behind you, before pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “Certainly looked like it, baby.”

You smiled, eyes drooping already at the tiredness you were beginning to feel.  

You settled down between the two of them, ignoring the smell of sweat emanating from the three of you all together. Yes, you loved being like this, sandwiched between your two favorite people, but you couldn’t deny that the body heat radiating from everyone, plus slight tackiness of sweaty skin against more sweaty skin made you want to cringe. And as much as you loved the idea of Jaehyun’s cum staying inside of you, it was slowly beginning to trickle down your thigh, further contributing to your growing discomfort.

“I need to shower,” You finally mumbled, rubbing your eyes sleepily, before pouting. Looking around the motel room, you noted that it was dingy enough, you didn’t want to imagine the bathroom. “How bad is the bathroom?”

Jaehyun groaned, hand coming to rub at his forehead in disdain.

“Oh, it’s fuckin’ nasty.”

“...Shit.”

[introvert-no-chameleon]

Of Monsters and McGuckets

Fiddleford just wanted to have his morning coffee in peace, but Gravity Falls and the Stan brothers had other plans.

AO3

Fiddleford Hardon McGucket considered himself to be a patient, level-headed individual. One had to be if they ever hoped to survive Gravity Falls, and, even more daunting, live with Stanford and Stanley Pines. Keeping them in line was an occupation in itself. His co-workers were two of the most chaotic and morally questionable people he’d ever met in his life. (Then again, as someone who had once made a giant robot to terrorize his ex-wife in an admittedly misguided attempt to get her back, maybe he shouldn’t be throwing stones in that last department).

The point is, when it came to dealing with uncommon and frustrating situations, he usually managed to keep a straight head. But on one deceivingly lovely morning, just when he’d went out to the porch to sit back with a nice cup of coffee and the sun had just begun to kiss the horizon, he saw two large monsters sprinting towards the shack, and. Well.

It was only reasonable that he’d react the way he did.

The first thing he did was spit out his early-morning coffee, ruining his only clean tie in the process. The second thing he did was dash into the shack like the Devil Himself was on his heels. Lastly, he slammed the door shut, locked it, and began combing the living room for the shotgun he knew for a fact Stanley kept around. He thanked the Lord Stanford wasn’t here, lest he’d be chastising Fiddleford for “harming” (defending himself against) a perfectly healthy specimen. Never mind the fact that half of these subjects of study had tried to eat him, no sir. Scientific discovery was always more important.

(Sometimes, Fiddleford wondered how on God’s green earth Stanford Pines hadn’t fallen to his death into a ravine or some other nonsense in pursuit of an anomaly. Heaven knows the man, while undeniably brilliant, was severely lacking when it came to common sense).

A bang rattled the wooden door of the shack. Fiddleford yelped, dropping the pile of books he’d been in the process of moving in his scramble to find the gun. He eyed the secret lab entrance and wondered if the door would hold them back long enough for him to make a dash for it.

“Fidds, we saw you run in, will ya just open the door?”

Fiddleford froze. That voice, while even more gravelly than usual (a thing he hadn’t thought possible) was definitely familiar.

“Well butter my butt and call me a biscuit,” he said, dazed, as he walked over to the door and unlocked it. “Stanley?”

Upon closer inspection, he couldn’t deny that the square-jawed face that peered down at him belonged to Stanley Pines. There were some…notable…differences, such as the fact that he had glowing orbs for eyes, all his featured seemed to be carved from stone, he had ridiculous pointy ears and fangs to boot. He’d be right at home next to the gargoyles from those pictures of cathedrals he’d studied for his History of Western Art course.

“Took ya long enough,” said Stanley, ducking his head under the doorway and lumbering inside. Each step made the floorboard groan loudly, and for a few seconds Fiddleford thought the man would break through the wood floor. “Thought we’d never get back.”

“Stanferd, do ya have…fur?” said Fiddleford, stepping away from the door to let the other man in.

Stanford—it couldn’t be anyone else, not with that straight-backed posture and furrowed brow peering over thick-rimmed glasses—walked in behind him, hands behind his back.

 Hearing the question, Stanford adjusted his glasses, with a large, six-fingered paw. His facial features were lion-esque, as was his entire body, save from the colorful green, blue and red feathered wings that trailed behind his body. He even had a cute little lion tail poking out from a hole in his pants. “It appears so, yes.” He cleared his throat. “We may have a…problem.”

Stanley, who had gone to the fridge to get a beer, came back glaring at Stanford with those bright yellow orbs. “No shit, Sixer. I hadn’t fucking noticed.”

Stanford’s ears flattened against his skull. Fiddleford would’ve found it amusing if Stanford wasn’t now 7 feet tall and didn’t have large, sharp teeth. “Language, Stanley.”

Fiddleford considered grabbing some alcohol as he took in the situation. After a few attempts at forming words, he finally settled for the question he found himself asking on a near-daily basis. “What in tarnation did ya two get yerselves mixed up in now?”

“Oi, don’t look at me,” said Stan. He jerked his clawed thumb at Stanford. “Mr. Science here was the one who just had to walk right into a mysterious, glowing lake that he almost drowned in.”

Stanford’s tail twitched, and he growled. “We almost drowned, Stanley, because you turned into 300 pounds of moving stone.”

“I was only in the lake because you started flailing around growing a tail and screamin’ for help!”

Ford sniffed, chin held up in that way it got whenever he’d start getting defensive. “Swimming with wings is incredibly difficult.”

“Yeah, I would know, I have them now.” Stanley stretched out his bat-like wings for emphasis.

Judging by Stanford’s bloodshot eyes and Stanley’s slouched posture, along with the fact that they seemed even more short with each other than usual, Fiddleford guessed that they’d been arguing on and off about this for a while. He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Now see right here, the two of ya best calm down, you’ll tear the shack apart if you start fighting bein’ like this.”

The two of them, while far from calm, quieted down.

“Right,” said Fiddleford. “So ya discovered some magic water that turns folks into monsters?”

“Yup,” said Stanley. “We found it in some hidden path behind some bushes and a couple of boulders.”

It’s almost as if it was hidden away for a reason. “Did ya at least remember where the path is?”

“Of course,” said Stanford, having the audacity to look indignant. “What do you take me for?”

“An idiot who got us turned into two walking Summerween costumes because he couldn’t just collect the water in a cup and some gloves like a normal scientist?” said Stanley.

“As if you would know what a “normal” scientist does,” said Stanford, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Alright, fellas. Let me just get some food in me and then we can go back out and get some samples,” said Fiddleford. “I need me some caffeine to deal with this.”

Stanford opened his mouth but Fiddleford stopped him with the same withering glare he’d give his son whenever he tried to step out of line. “Stanferd Pines, if ya think I’m gonna run around the woods with the two of you, in this here state, on an empty stomach, yer sorely mistaken.”

“Fidds has got a point,” said Stan. “You probably haven’t had anything other than that piece of toast since you woke up.”

“I suppose some food wouldn’t hurt…” said Stanford. “I did have an incredibly strong urge to maul a deer we spotted on the way over.”

Fiddleford was getting some bacon out of the fridge when he heard the end of the sentence. He straightened up and slammed the door with more force than strictly necessary. “Y-ya did?”

Stanford seemed to come to the same conclusion Fiddleford had, because he raised his paws up. “Oh, n-no, rest assured. I don’t have any inclination to eat you.”

“Thank the Lord…”

“After all,” said Stanford, rubbing his chin. “According to mythology, sphinxes only consume humans if they are unfortunate enough not to know the answers to their riddles.”

“Don’t I feel better,” said Fiddleford, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Do ya reckon ya can still have some bacon and eggs?”

“Yes, that’ll do,” he said. “Oh! I must write down our findings in my journal. Now, where did I put it…” Stanford went up the stairs, muttering to himself the entire way.

“Ya know, he actually started running on all fours at least twice on the way over.” Stan grinned through another sip of beer. “was the funniest thing I’ve seen all week.”

Fiddleford sighed. That would explain the fighting. He rolled his eyes as he saw Stanley reach in the fridge for another can and shut it before he could. “Stanley Pines, it is 8 o’clock in the morning.”

“Ooh,” Stanley raised his eyebrows. “Two last names in less than five minutes, it’s a new record.”

“Stanley.”

Stanley pouted, and even with his new…physical features, Fiddleford still found it endearing. “Aw, come onnnn, Fids, I’m emotionally distressed!”

“Yer no such thing.” He smiled a soon as back turned to the other man. He took out their skillet and placed it on the stove.

“Y’know, I gotta hand it to ya. You’ve gotten a lot more assertive since we’ve met, it’s kinda hot.”

“Yer flattery will not sway me into lettin’ ya get another drink.”

Stanley laughed behind him. “Yeah, yeah. I’m still bein’ serious. Ford didn’t even try to fight you about getting breakfast. If it was me, he’d be yelling at me by now about how we were wastin’ time and crap.”

“It doesn’t take much for the two of ya to get at each other’s necks.” Fiddleford cracked an egg on the edge of the skillet. Anyhow, that’s because he’s hiding away scribblin’ field notes. The moment he’s done, he’ll be tryin’ to drag us on out of here.”

“Eh, true.”

For a moment, the eggs sizzling and snapping on the pan filled the warm silence. His stomach grumbled as the savory smell of cooking food reached him. “Stanley, can ya hand me the coffeepot?”

The floorboards creaked behind Fiddleford. A shadow loomed over him. “Stanley?”

“…You’re not, uh, scared of me or nothin’?” Stanley’s voice had gotten so quiet Fiddleford had hardly heard him.

Fiddleford glanced back at Stanley, who despite his size was hunched over, looking mighty small for someone who was now a literal boulder.

“Why on earth would I be?”

Stanley blinked meekly. He gestured towards his entire body. “Uh…’cause I look like this?”

Ah. He did try to threaten them with a shotgun. Some of the unease he’d gotten rid of returned, but he tried his best not to show it. He swallowed down his fear as best as he could. “Should I be?”

Stanley frowned. “Eh, I mean, I feel different, but not in a “eat somebody” kinda way. I do have a very strong urge to perch on the roof and attack pigeons.”

“Fascinating.” Even without his caffeine, his scientific curiosity was finally starting to get the best of him. “Well, gargoyles are known as guardians meant to ward against evil. Perhaps you’ve developed some sorta protective instinct…”

He stopped mid-ramble. Even without eyes to speak of, Fiddleford could tell Stanley was avoiding his gaze.  

Fiddleford brought his hand to Stanley’s cheek. It felt warm, to his surprise, like rock that had baked under the afternoon sun. Stanley peeked up at him. “Darlin’, the only thing I’m afraid of is the damage you’ll cause around the lab if we don’t turn ya back. Yer like a bull in a china closet as it is.”

Stanley chuckled, leaning into Fiddleford’s touch. “Somebody has ta make things interesting around here.”

Something crashed overhead, quickly followed by a string of curses. A series of heavy objects thumped against the wood overhead.

“I’m alright!” called Stanford’s voice. “I simply knocked a bookshelf over my person, but this new form is surprisingly durable!”

“Things are interestin’ enough as it is,” said Fiddleford, his brief moment of curiosity gone as soon as it came. “Where in tarnation is the coffeepot?”

“Relax, Fiddlenerd, I’ll make ya a fresh one.” He went over by his side, giving him a playful shove that sent Fiddleford to the ground. “…Oops. Sorry, uh, forgot about the whole…stone thing.”

Fiddleford glowered up at his boyfriend, taking his hand as he helped Fiddleford back up. “Yer lucky a got a soft spot fer ya, else I’d be mighty cross.”

Stanly gave him the gentlest peck on the top of Fiddleford’s head. “Once I have my human body back, I’ll make it up to ya.”

Stanley gave him a cup of his precious lifeblood, black with two sugars, just as he liked it. Smirking, Fiddleford took a sip, getting warmed by more than just the coffee. “I’ll hold ya to that.”

*

Somebody please give Fiddleford a raise. 

Comment on what monster you all think Fidds should be, and I may do a second part. I've read some people make him a scarecrow, and I considered making him a centaur.

[dolce-peach]

Hi! I really like your mcu fanfiction! Could you do a fanfic where the reader is an avenger and loves to paint and daydream and once she first meets Loki she falls head over heels and secrets dreams abt him and sketches and paints his portraits and he finds out. Hope you have a good rest of your day :)

unspoken

pairing: loki x avenger!reader

warnings: fluff, fluff, and more fluff oml

a/n: honestly this was the fluff i needed to write in the midst of my sad life 😂😭 hope you guys like it!

permanent taglist: @kaitlynmalikisnotonfire

** TO MAKE A REQUEST -- please check the status in my bio **

masterlist

----

Once again, you got carried away sketching on your paperwork.  This time, it was Steve and Tony arguing over something petty while the mission meeting progressed.  You leaned into your arm, your pen pretty much moving on its own.

“Anyways, before I was rudely interrupted,” Steve started as he sent a playful glare at Tony, “does everyone understand their role?”

Everyone nodded.

You continued shading in various parts of the quick sketch, further capturing lifelike qualities.  The annoyance in Steve’s gaze.  The defiance in Tony’s eyes.

“Y/N?”

You looked up, setting your pen down.  “Sorry.  Yeah?”

“Do you understand your role for the mission?” Steve repeated.

You sent an apologetic smile.  “Aye, Cap’n.”

As the meeting ended, you collected your strewn papers with slight embarrassment.  It wasn’t the first time you were caught with your head completely in the clouds.  

You couldn’t help it.  Sketching helped you concentrate, as strange as that sounded, and when you had time, painting helped you take your mind off of things.  Healthy extracurricular activities that were relaxing were hard to come by, especially for a combat and stealth agent like yourself.

You made your way back to the common room, where everyone was crowding around Thor and someone else.

“Thor, you can’t just bring him here,” Steve said.  

Tony snorted.  “Yeah, what if he destroys half of New York again?  Guess who’d have to clean that up?  Me.”

“Oh, please,” Natasha groaned, rolling her eyes.  “You give yourself way too much credit.”

“No offense, but I’m not a big fan,” Clint said, eyeing the newcomer anxiously.

Bruce cowered behind Clint.  “Me too.”

“Of who?” you asked.

Everyone turned to see you standing there, your curiosity piqued.  They slowly backed away, revealing someone you’ve only heard about.

“Loki,” you breathed.

He stood in all his godly glory, adorned in his green and black robes, hints of gold making everything vivid.  He stood tall over you, making you shrink a bit at his bravado.

He smirked.  “That would be me.”  His eyes scanned you.  “And who might you be?”

“Y/N.”

“And she can kick your ass,” Tony added helpfully.

Steve sent a warning look.  “Language.”

Tony held his hands up in defeat, everyone laughing.  

Loki kept his eyes on you with interest.  You had to break away from his intense gaze, or you felt you might be eaten alive.

--

When you got done with training that day, you found yourself sitting on the balcony overlooking the night streets.  You were snuggled up in a thick sweatshirt with your pencil and sketchbook.  

You sighed happily.  

If you had to describe your ideal night, it would be this.  No missions to complete.  No errands to run.  No one to meet or please.

Just you and your imagination.

As per usual, you let your pencil draw for itself.  

You smiled a bit to yourself, seeing the rough shapes coming together to form Loki’s structure.  You began putting some fine lines in before shading ever so softly.

You’d been thinking about him the entire day.  Other than the mischievous look in his eyes, he hardly seemed like the egotistic maniac who destroyed most of New York.  Instead he looked gentle and reserved, taking in the world quietly, all while perhaps having a slightly sadistic sense of humor.

You shook your head.  You didn’t care what the others had to say about him.  You were determined to get to know him while he was here with Thor.

With your head full and your heart satisfied, you decided to brew yourself a cup of tea before heading back inside to retire for the night.  

You filled the kettle and started the stove.  You nearly jumped when you heard the fridge open behind you.  

“Do all you humans drink such revolting liquid?” Loki asked, holding up a can of soda.

“Depends on what brand you drink,” you answered.  “Would you like tea?”

He paused.  “Yes, please.”

As he put the soda can back, you reached for two cups in the cupboard and scooped some non-caffeinated tea into a couple strainer balls.  You placed them in the cups and carefully poured the boiling water, watching it swirl and change colors.

When it finished brewing, you removed the strainers and slid Loki a cup across the kitchen counter.

“Thank you,” came his quiet response.

You grinned.  “No problem.”

You sipped your tea, and looked at him again before laughing.

He blushed.  “What’s so funny?” he asked defensively.

“Nothing!” you laughed.  “I just never expected to see a god in sweatpants and a t-shirt.”

“Well, it’s quite comfortable,” Loki argued.  “And you didn’t expect me to stay dressed like that all the time, did you?”

“I suppose not,” you said, leaning against the counter.

It was quiet as the two of you finished your cups of tea.  You took his empty cup and rinsed it in the sink.

You smiled to yourself.  He really isn’t as bad as everyone says he is.

He stood awkwardly against the counter.  “Um, thank you again.”

You shook your head.  “Anytime.”

“Why are you being so kind to me?”

You blinked.  “Hm?”

“Well...”  He rubbed the back of his neck.  “Usually people scream or glare or something.  They think I’ll kill them the next instant or freeze them forever.”

“I don’t think you’re so bad,” you said.  “Misunderstood, yes, but you’re not a bad guy.”

A blush colored his cheeks as he looked away.  

“Anyways, I’ll see you tomorrow, Loki,” you said with a smile.

He snapped out of his momentary daze.  “Yeah.  Have a good night...Y/N.”

As you began walking away, you couldn’t help but widen your smile, feeling your heart beating a bit harder.

--

The next week was utterly exhausting.  Each of you used your abilities to the very max hunting down Hydra bases and the likes.  

Having Loki fight with you all was strange for everyone.  The Avengers always made sure to keep him in check, but you had no doubts about his loyalty, especially as you got to know him more.  

There were also things unseen and unsaid.  

You’d often catch him stealing glances at you, and you didn’t mind at all.  It was almost like he was afraid you were going to disappear.  

He’d come up to your room late at night with a cup of tea and stay into the early hours of the morning.  Sometimes you’d talk, and sometimes you just watched the cars move up and down the street.

You’d become best friends with the god of mischief.

It wasn’t until you started dreaming about him that you discovered you were also in love with him.

Loki became your sole subject for your sketches.  You loved capturing his many different expressions, especially the looks of varying annoyance.

Eventually, you gathered enough courage to begin a painted portrait of him.  You were determined to show everyone how you saw him: vivid, charming, lovely, protective.  

You used so many colors, a color for each bit of life in his expression.

As you painted, you got so lost in what you were doing, you didn’t hear Loki walk in behind you.

He silently studied you painting for a few minutes, taking it all in.

“What are you doing?”

“Jesus!” you yelped, nearly dropping your brush.  Your cheeks grew hot as you tried to cover your work.  “N-nothing!”

Loki laughed, catching you off guard.  “I’ve been watching you the past few minutes.”

“Really?” you squeaked.  “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“You looked like you were concentrating.  I didn’t want to interrupt,” he said.  “And I was enjoying watching you work.”

At this point, you were a red tomato.  You had no idea why you were freaking out so much.  It was just a painting of a friend.

A friend you wanted to be something more to.

“I’m flattered,” he continued.  He eyed the sketches of himself strewn all over your desk.  “You drew more?”

“Yeah, but they’re not much...” you trailed off as you shuffled them around a bit.  “I mean, it’s just a relaxing hobby of mine...”

He carefully picked up some pieces, his eyes filled with admiration.  “These are really amazing, Y/N.”

“You really think so?”

“Of course!”  He furrowed his eyebrows.  “But why me?”

“What do you mean?”

He nodded.  “Wouldn’t it be nicer to sketch someone like my brother?  Or one of your Earth friends?”

“I guess, but they’re not you.”

You were your reddest, if that was even possible at that point.  

Loki took a moment before smiling.  “If you insist.”  He let out a small laugh.  “If you want, I could model for you some time.”

Your eyes sparkled.  “Really?”

He played with your hair.  

“Anything for you.”

part 2