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tremendouscreationperson · 4 months ago

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Logan x Reader pt.1

Again spoilers for Deadpool and Wolverine

Many of y'all liked my little DP/W idea so here is more, I tried to keep it GN so there isn't smut but it does sorta allude to it

Part 2 >> Masterlist

Wade has just woke up, he yet again sees Logan drinking and asks 'where they are and how they got here'. Logan vaguely points to the door and three people walk through. It's Elektra, Blade and Gambit. There are some not-so-pleasantries and eventually Laura makes herself known.

"We're missing Johnny and Y/N." Gambit drawls.

Wade makes a joke and turns back to Logan who looks like he's shat himself. "Peanut?"

"You said Y/N?" Logan settles his drink onto the first available surface and runs a hand through his hair. "We saw Johnny but not Y/N."

Later on he had slumped down and made a fire. He didn't want to be part of the heroics, he couldn't be. He wasn't worth it. Laura had tried to convince him in her unique way. He could see himself in her, see why he'd fight for her.

Logan took another swig and stared off into the treeline. It was unclear how long he just sat but eventually he noticed movement.

Wolverine stood, ready to protect the others. Why was he ready to protect the others?

Then he saw you.

You were wide eyed. Your suit was practically undamaged except for a little cut on your thigh. Not a hair out of place. There was dirt on your face and body but you were beautiful.

"Y/N." He involuntarily took a step towards you.

You stayed completely still. Wary. Why were you wary of him? “Logan.” Your voice was barely above a whisper but he heard it. Would always hear you. You were the main voice rattling around his adamantium skull.

“Y/N.” He took another step forward and tried to erase his frown, tried to ease his expression into something you wouldn't be wary of. “I'm not going to hurt you.”

Your eyes scanned him and the trees behind before you gave a nod and slowly approached, favouring your right leg.

“It's been a while.” The fire light bounced gloriously off your skin, illuminating your very being as though you were an angel. Well you were. You were perfect. Are perfect.

“For me as well.” He nodded too enthusiastically, too eager to be speaking to you. He didn't deserve this.

You lowered yourself onto a patch of grass, crossing your legs to the best of your ability, pupils glued to the flames. They danced along and lit up your eyes. Surely, you couldn't be more beautiful. Logan hadn't even realised but he had sat himself back down on his perch across from you. “I’m sorry.”

He couldn't help it, his frown was back in full force. What could you possibly have to apologise for? “I don-”

“You're not the first Wolverine to come sniffing me out.” You explained. “There's been others and they've- they've not all been friendly.”

What the fuck had he done? “I swear, I am not here to hurt you.” He placed a hand over his heart. “I promise.”

“I know. I just- it's not often you see your husband's-” Husband? “- face and he doesn't know you or is feral or-” You took a deep breath, finally meeting his gaze. “You at least recognise me.”

“Of course I do.”

“Okay, that's good.” You nod mostly to yourself before asking, “what happened in your world?”

“My world?”

You nod again.

“We're X-Men. I'm shitty. You're perfect. Scott nags me. Storm married a king and moved away, visits every so often. Jean was in the process of taking over from Charles…” If he didn't tell you they all died, maybe they didn't. Maybe they could live in your head. Maybe he wasn't a monster. “Yours?”

“Much the same really.” One shoulder lifted in a half shrug. “‘cept you weren't shitty. You were just you. Sabertooth was the shitty Howlett.”

Logan chuckled at that.

“Did you have a Laura? Or a Gabby?”

He shook his head. “Uh, no. But I've met Laura. She's nice. Fierce.”

“She's your DNA spliced with some poor unfortunate ladies. Essentially your offspring.” You informed. “Gabby is a clone of a clone. She's lovely though. Friends with Wa-Deadpool.”

“He's here.” Logan scratched his chin. “He's the reason I am.”

“Oh, you're friends as well?”

“God, no.” He shook his head. “Kinda just thrust together.”

“He always wanted to hang with you but usually just ended up with Spidey.”

Logan had heard of Spidey -Spiderman- but he hadn't met the guy, yet. If he hung out with Wade he was probably just as mad.

You both fell into a fairly comfortable silence but he didn't like that. You were here. He could actually talk to you. Actually be around you. “What happened to your leg?” He motioned to it as you carefully repositioned yourself.

“Angel.” You whispered darkly.

“Warren?”

“Yeah. Sometimes your friends aren't your friends. He had metal wings and weird tattoos. I called out to him and he just attacked. He was so quick I couldn't put up a forcefield in time.”

“I'm sorry.” It was a lame response but he had nothing else. You merely sat there, watching him, scanning his reactions. “I don't know how to convince you I am your friend. But I am. I won't harm you.”

You gave him a small lopsided smile. And he remembered.

“Wait. I do know how.” Logan rummaged around his very tiny suit pockets. He knew it was somewhere. He made sure it was always on him. Hidden away where no one would find it. Tucked into a sleeve that he kept safe by his ankle, usually people hit his torso, they don't always go for feet so he felt secure in it's position. Well, he did until he fought Wade in that fucking Honda.

Logan found it. It was scrappy and definitely worse for wear but the picture was clear. He stood and slowly walked around the fire to your side. You didn't back away but he caught your involuntary shoulder flinch.

“Here.”

You delicately took the piece of paper from his hands. It felt glossy, like magazine print. It was folded and on the visible side was a photo of you smiling wide, proud, in front of the X mansion. You unfolded it to see Logan standing next to you with a barely-there smirk. He looked almost bored but you knew him. Knew he was smiling, it was in his eyes, the softness in his face.

You were confused because he was smiling yet it was clear that he folded it to hide himself.

“Why have you folded it like that?”

Because I look awful. Because you are perfect and happy and brilliant and I pretended I didn't want the photo. Because it's the only faculty photo of me they ever took. Because they all knew I was sweet on you when you stopped me for a photo and I agreed. Because I had to take this from a yearbook after the school was raided. Because it's the only photo of us that I have and I hate that I'm in it. “Easier to fit the little pocket.”

“I have a similar one.” You confessed, knowing he was lying but that's okay. You all had secrets. “It's with my other bits, in the base.”

He felt his cheeks warm so looked away to the base. “Speaking of, it's late and you're hurt. They were planning on leaving at sun up, but I'm not sure that's still happening.”

“Why are we leaving?”

“We're storming Cassandra Nova’s lair.”

You let out a full body laugh. The noise was heavenly. “Fuck off, you come here and suddenly talk them into a full frontal assault? Brilliant.”

He rolled his eyes at you but extended a hand. “Come on, bub, let's get you updated and checked out.”

It wasn't much really, not to a bystander, but you actually accepting his hand meant the world to him and you. Both for similar and completely different reasons.

He definitely didn't need to but insisted on helping you to the base. It was hardly worth it but being back in his arms was lovely. It felt like home. He was maybe a few inches taller and definitely a little older looking than you recalled but he was your Logan. And a helpful one. He wasn't chasing you like a wild dog because you smelt nice. He was helping you limp back.

“Y/N.” Elektra spoke as soon as you entered the threshold.

“El.” You smiled widely.

She gave you a subtle look - raising her eyebrows a fraction and flickering her eyes at Logan - before taking your hand and leading you out of his arms. “We were worried.”

“You shouldn't have worried.” Rolling your eyes. “You know me.”

“That is why I was worried.”

She gave you a quick hug and assessed your leg. You had known her for five years. She had been here longer than you, travelling with Blade, and quickly intervened when she saw a Ghost Rider trying to lasso you. You three had met Johnny, who had been here a while too, and eventually met Laura. She was the only familiar face to you, it was a breath of fresh air to see her. It was a shame she didn't know you but you explained who you were and where she was and she slowly came around to trusting you. Gambit was the newest addition to your ragtag gang. He, bless him, tried to be as useful as possible and you're sure he was but there were times when you had no idea what went on in his mind. He was his own enigma.

The cut wasn't awful, a fact you had said multiple times, but Elektra still insisted on using alcohol to clean and one of the rags you recycled from an old duvet to wrap it, explaining the idiotic plan that you were all taking part of as she went.

“Oh!” Wade loudly exclaimed as Elektra tightened the makeshift bandage. “The self insert! I can't believe it, the movie’s been out like three days!”

You exchanged a glance with El and gave him an odd look as you greeted the man. “Hiya Wade.”

“Y/N.” He bowed. “I'm a little star struck.”

“Why?” Elektra stood to her full height and quickly made an exit, this wasn't the first Deadpool she had seen but this was one of the high energy ones.

“Well, you're Logan's thing.” The man behind perked up, his shoulders tense. He had been watching you the whole time and clearly wasn't a fan of DP rambling. “You're his reason to keep on. One of the reasons my Logan saved Laura. To keep his promise to you or something like that, I don't know the writing is a bit clunky.”

“Right.” You nodded, not quite understanding. But it was funny to see the mortified expression Logan was wearing. “So I'm Logan's ‘thing’.”

“Well, duh-”

“Will you shut the fuck up?” Logan ordered.

“Gosh, was he always this snappy?” Wade chirped.

“I dunno, Lo always had a soft spot for me so..”

“Awwwww.” He clasped his hands and held them at his heart. “Did you hear that she said ‘Lo’?” Wade had just turned to see the man in question but Wolverine was behind him and quickly dragging the Merc away, not quite whispering another ‘shut your fucking mouth’.

Blade, who was one to skulk hidden in corners before making himself known, had watched the interaction and gave you a fright as he stepped from the shadows. “So that's him, huh?”

“Jesus!” You whisper-yelled. “How many times have I asked you to not do that?”

“Daywalker, can't help it.” He shrugged and sat next to you on the sofa. It was old and ugly but so so comfortable.

You gave a sigh, holding your hammering heart. “Yes. He's Logan. A version of him. That actually doesn't wanna kill me.”

“Maybe you should let it play out.”

“And maybe I shouldn't.” You counter. “We'll all be dead tomorrow anyway.”

“All the more reason to."

He was correct of course. You had missed Logan so much and this one clearly had missed you. It would be folly to not spend the last night you may be alive together. In whatever way you were both comfortable with. But you didnt want to give him the satisfaction of being right, so merely huffed in response.

"Elektra told you the plan?”

“Well, Laura hardly speaks and I can't understand Gambit.”

Blade let out a low laugh. He was one of the coolest people you'd ever met, even his chuckle was cool. You were so envious.

Logan came back with red cheeks and quickly apologised. “I'm sorry, he talks so much and I don't think he actually hears himself.”

You waved him off. “It's fine.”

“No, he embarrassed you.” Logan sighed, his jaw set like he was biting the inside of his cheek.

“Logan, really. Don't worry.” You could see that he wasn't going to 'not worry' so decided to just remove yourself from the situation. Clapping Blade’s leg you stood. “Right, bed time. Big day tomorrow.”

“You aren't coming.” Logan replied immediately.

“Uhm. Pretty sure I am.”

“No, you're injured.” He stated as though that was obvious.

“This is literally the smallest injury I've had out here.”

“But you are hurt.”

“Logan.”

“Y/N.”

Blade watched the back and forth with a smirk, you were both clearly a married couple.

“I think you two should take this to Y/N’s room.” Your eyes widened dramatically. “You can argue all night when the door is shut and no one else can hear you.” The sly bastard.

“Okay.” Logan agreed. “I'll convince you to stay, where's your room?”

You let out a few noises, dying arguments, and then the biggest sigh. “Fuck my life. This way.”

The base was an old temple. You had wondered who it belonged to. The statues of her were beautiful. You had yet to see a variant of whoever this was, maybe that was a good thing. She might not take lightly to you guys using her sacred temple as a hotel. There were a few corridors you had to walk down to get to your room. You'd dragged an old mattress into it and made sure to keep the room dust free. There weren't a lot of luxuries in this world but you had an orb that when touched lit up delicately. There were a few sets of clothes you'd scavenged so you kept yourself clean and had a set of ‘pjs’. Your room was covered in marks where you had flung a knife or practised a forcefield. He assumed there weren't that many guns here, or if there were ammo was rare.

“You can't fight.” Logan started.

Oh. You were actually going to argue. “Logan, I could fight you right now.”

“Go on then.” He called your bluff.

You gave him a playful smirk. “You really wanna fight? It could be our last day alive and you wanna spend it fighting?”

“I know you can't fight with that leg.” He was so sure of himself. You couldn't wait to prove him wrong.

With a twitch of your hand you flung him towards you with a forcefield, side stepping out of his way. It took him by surprise how strong you had gotten and he had to catch himself before he hit the wall.

Logan twisted around to find you at his throat with a small blade in your hand. Your chest pressed into his, causing his back to hit the wall. “That was over pretty quick, Lo.”

Logan was in awe of your swift moves. You were tenfold who he knew. God could you get more attractive? He felt himself get warm and not from embarrassment. You were making him hot, you holding a knife to his throat was making him horny. What did that say about him?

Your eyebrows pinched minutely as you observed him swallow. “You like this, don't you?”

Was there a point in lying? “Maybe.”

“Well... Maybe I do, too.”

God he was ruined.

You were literally amazing.

How could he be so lucky? He really didn't deserve this.

Logan glanced down to your lips and you smirked. "Go on." He didn't need any other invitations. He captured your lips and kissed you with the full force of his years of loneliness.

He loved you, by god, he did.

Logan's left hand found your nape whilst his right landed on your ass. He growled as you pushed into him a fraction more.

Your leg moved by itself, wrapping around his waist as you took advantage of his growl. Kissing the exposed areas of his neck. You'd missed this. You'd missed him.

Logan hoisted you the rest of the way up and gazed into your eyes. You were looking down at him, lips plump and cheeks hot, you panted a little and fuck. He was going to fuck you. He wasn't sure he could actually pull himself away from you. You both should be sleeping, preparing for the fight tomorrow. No, you shouldn't be fighting. You should be safe. Somewhere safe and warm, waiting for him to return.

"Come with me." He begged.

"I'm sure I will." You winked.

"No, tomorrow, after the fight. Come with me, wherever I end up." He didn't want to go back but he would if you followed. If you came with him he could do it. Go anywhere. Be anyone.

"So you agree I'm fighting fit." You pecked his nose, playfully.

He huffed but found your lips again, leading you both to the mattress you called a bed.

He'd buy you a bed, a grand one. One worthy of you. He hated that you only had this. He needed to provide for you. Keep you warm, safe, loved, full. Keep you.

Logan was going to keep you and he didn't care how.

Part 2

#logan howlett #logan 2017 #logan x reader #logan #james logan howlett #james howlett #wolverine #wolverine x reader #xmen #mutant!reader #deadpool and wolverine #deadpool #deadpool 3

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cottagecore-moss-king · 4 months ago

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Not so Artificial Intelligence

Inspired by This prompt: HERE by @corkinavoid No beta we die like Danny and Jason. Do not steal, take, or repost my writing without permission, I do not consent to my art being used in AI training.

Tim had just finished attaching the wires of the speaker into the bat computer for Betty when the speakers began to crackle.

“What is this? Wait, can you hear me?” The voice that echoed out of the speakers was very distinctly not robotic, or mechanical. It very much had human intonation… and a mid-western accent???

The gathered family froze and stared in shock. Dick and Stephanie were here as a joke, Babs, Tim, and Bruce were there as the techies, and despite Damian’s protests, he was also standing besides Bruce. Despite the gathering of bats, none of them could have expected this. A few hands went to emergency beacons and cellphones, before pausing.

“Hello Red Robin!” The voice cheerfully called. Taking steps back and glancing around the cave at Babs, who stared at Bruce, who stared at Tim as he clicked his super beacon.

“Betty?”

“I mean, you do know me as such, but I actually prefer Danny, he/they.” Babs pointed at Bruce, who looked at Tim, who lamely motioned towards Babs.

“Who uh. Who installed you?” His voice was most certainly not squeaky thanks for asking.

“Oh, well uh, technically no-one, I accidentally did it myself.” The screen turned on and started to glitch out to a camera. It eventually settled on the sketching program, which popped a smiley face onto itself.

“Who are you” Bruce growled, as he switched into batman mode. Damian was glaring at the screen and the rest of the family had inched into a defensive formation.

The entrance door entered and Superman walked out of it.

“What seems to be the issue B?”

“OMG It’s superman! You’re like, my second favorite hero!”

“Oh, uh, than-er” Bruce glared at him, with no idea of what this entity was, it was always a good idea to follow fey rules. “That’s very much appreciated. Who is your first?”

“Martian Manhunter obviously.” Betty, or Danny as they were now referred to as, began to sketch out something on the app.

“I got into a fight with a technomancer. I figured I could just phase out but he did some magic and now I’m stuck. Very rude if you ask me.”

“Ah, I see.” Supermans face implied that he very much did not see. “So, are you a martian perhaps? With the phasing and Manhunter as your favoratie.”

“Oh no, I’m ahhhh….” The cheery tone died as Danny tried to find the words, “I’m like a spirit, yeah, I guess that’s the right way to put it right now.”

“Were you human before this?” butted in Tim. Now that the seeming threat had passed, (you could never be too careful, no shut up Nightwing he is not paranoid, just cautious) the family had relaxed their stance and Barbra had rolled over to the computer screen.

“Technically???”

Danny did not sound so sure of himself.

“It’s not a problem if you aren’t, you can tell that we don’t really care if you are human or not.”

Superman floated carefully down to the ground besides Bruce, but without actually touching down. Perhaps he simply forgot that they were friends with non-humans.

“Tell that to the gov.” he snarked back, and that was definitely teenager snark.

“Wait shit. No, no no no, I take that back, don’t tell the government anything, I didn’t say nothin’!” he gasped and staticed out.

“What do you mean tell it to the government?”

“NOPE, NUH UH. I DIDN’T SAY ANYTHING YOU CAN’T PROVE IT, I WANT MY LAWYER!”

“Alright,” Bruce pacified putting his hands up “Let me just call a friend and they can get you out.”

“Wait really? Where’s Mr. I’m so dark and broody tell me everything?”

Yep, that’s teenager snark right there, Bruce thought as his eye twitch and his kids snickered.

“Sooo, how did this technomancer trap you, Danny?” Dick strolled over to the chair in front of the computer and flopped down spinning around in lazy circles.

“Oh, well you see it started when…” Danny's voice faded off as Bruce took his league communicator out and stepped around a corner with Kal to call up Zatanna.

“Hey Batman! What’s up?”

“We need you down in the batcave, some seemingly civilian has been trapped in the computer for a couple weeks now, and we’ve only just gotten into communication with them. They say it was technomancy.” He rumbled. He would have to suit up and manage to get Danny not to spill any of their identities, this just turned into a major headache to deal with. Batman hates magic.

Once all of the children were suited up and Danny had been given an explanation, they were all patently waiting for Zatanna to arrive.

The zeta tubes finally lit up with her arrival as she walked towards the gathered group holding her bag.

Halfway through greeting she paused, and stared blankly the screen. Everyone else shot curious glances, backwards, some more obvious than others. Did Nightwing seriously need to turn his head like that, he swears his eldest has bones, but sometimes he seriously starts to doubt himself.

On the screen is a smiley face with a hand emoji. And a little drawing of a stick figure with white hair, green eyes, and a black suit.

“Hello! I am Danny, I’m so sorry you had to come all this way to help me, I’d offer you something but I don’t even have a body right now.” One awkward laugh later, and Bruce wanted to have had his head in her hands.

“I don’t worry, I can fix this. It’ll be a pain, but I can.”

While Zatanna sat up the spell and sent Kal out to go to Metropolis, (less suspicious for him to be buying things than Gotham), Bruce decided to stand around in the shadows while waiting to be useful. His kids, were off making friends with the strange person in the computer however. Laughing and teasing, he’s almost certain that Stephanie and Dick are trying to convince Danny to stay around and get adopted, despite Danny and Damian’s protests.

After thirty minutes, Zatanna was ready to do the spell, and Danny was saying goodbye.

As the light shone through the sigils written on the board and Zattana continued her muttering and waving, Danny added one last thing.

“And I added a file of something for you guys to look at, please please please look into it! I hope I can see you soon!”

And with a final flash, Danny was gone, leaving the batfam without their lovely AI/new friend. Zatannna wrapped things up and Batman escorted her back to the Zeta tube with Clark, thanking them briefly. And with that, Clark and Zatanna left with Two flashes of light.

Now, time to see what that file was that Danny had added.

#dc comics #dcu #dc fanart #batman #batfam #tim drake #red robin #dick grayson #nightwing #spoiler #stephanie brown #damian wayne #robin #danny phantom #danny fenton #dc x dp #dcxdp #dc x dp prompt #dc x dp crossover

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jackhues · 6 months ago

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it's not hate... | oscar piastri

note: okay so i was bored and i got a random inspiration i hope y'all like this <3 i think this will have 3/4 parts, but they might be split up if i reach the picture limit.

pairing: oscar piastri x fem!reader, logan x best friend!reader, one sided!enemies to lovers

faceclaim: various, from pinterest

youruser & logansargeant

liked by y/bffsuser, oscarpiastri, yourmomsig & others

youruser: gang's back together 🤘

pinned youruser: welcome back to america @/logansargeant glad you could join us! -> user: i love how she seems sarcastic but i know babes is so happy he's back

user: logan living out his frat dreams

user: this would be logan daily if he didn't go into racing

user: wait i'm confused... who's this? -> user: y/n y/ln! from what we know, her and logan are best friends since they were born or something. she finished her undergrad, but i think she's doing law school now (?)

user: i ship -> user: ew

y/bffsuser: not pictured is the entire drink falling out -> logansargeant: it wasn't my fault! she moved her head -> youruser: yeah okay, blame the woman -> logansargeant: i blame when she's wrong. and you are. -> user: stop they're so sibling

yourmomsig: aw no one posted the pic of y/n falling off the bed during the fight -> youruser: MOM! -> logansargeant: i tried but she stole my phone -> user: well we know who the favorite child is now

y/bffsuser: @/yourprivuser no photo creds -> user: IS THAT Y/N'S PRIVATE USER???!!! I NEED TO BE ACCEPTER NOWWW this comment thread has been deleted

oscarpiastri has requested yourprivuser!

y/bffspodcast

liked by user, user, oscarpiastri & others

y/bffspodcast: surprise episode out now! take a listen for exclusive deets on logan's love life, his best friends, and the time he almost became a dad to a baby crocodile

tagged: logansargeant

user: i'm sorry, logan did WHAT NOW?

user: A CROCODILE?? -> user: well he does live in florida

user: it's a crime that y/n and oscar haven't met before. i need the irl best and the f1 bestie to get together and spill tea on logan -> oscarpiastri: well we might have to change that this weekend -> user: OSCAR??!! PLEASE DO IT! I BEG!

Y/BFFS PODCAST - TRANSMISSION timestamp: 4:40-8:23

y/bff: i mean, you've known y/n your whole life, right?

logan: my whole life, yup. like, i was maybe only a few hours old when i saw her for the first time. you already know this, but like we have the same birthday, december 31st 2000. and we're also born at the same time, in the same hospital, literally right across the hall from each other.

YB: same time? like seriously? how did i not know that?

LS: *laughs* i mean, same time. down to the minute, at least. it's why we call each other 'twin', we're born at the same time. and like our parent knew each other and joked that we might be born on the same day... little did they know

YB: *laughing* that's insane. oh my gosh, and you guys have just been best friends since then. i love that. i assume you're the one who's got all the younger high school stories about her. i got some college ones, but you have the real gold mine, don't you?

LS: i've got my fair share of our insane stories, yeah

YB: mind sharing one?

LS: i'm trying to think of one that's not absolutely insane... oh okay! so one time, we were in the pool, it was summer, and then y/n just stops trying to murder me with the pool noodle and goes still. i'm confused as hell, so i'm trying to see what she's doing but she tells me to shut up. she's watching the bushes around the pool, so i swim to the edge of the pool next to her, and the two of us are just watching the bushes. i have no idea what's going on, but y/n's waiting for something. and then, a baby croc starts walking out of it, and it's so small, but like it's mom was nowhere. we didn't know what to do. and y/n *laughs* y/n goes, "oh we have to adopt it". i'm like what? but she just start spiraling "oh we're his parents now. he just saw us. what if the mom died? i don't know how to feed a baby croc? but i have to learn, it's my baby croc now." finally she calms down, and we get everything sorted out, but she cried when we had to leave the baby crocodile. adopted it and all within three seconds of seeing it

YB: *laughing* i'm dead, oh my god that sounds like her though. that's so fucking funny, she made you a crocodile dad!

Y/N ADJUSTED HER SUNGLASSES, the Miami sun nearly blinding her as she walked towards the paddock. Next to her, her racer best friend, Logan Sargeant, nearly skipped along next to her. She could feel his excitement at being able to race so close to home again, and it honestly helped lift her own spirits.

Logan smiled and waved at some cameras and fans nearby, grinning brightly and taking the time to stop and sign some stuff. Once the fans had trickled away, Logan made his way back to his best friend, throwing his arm over her shoulder.

"You okay?" he asked, turning his head away from the cameras so they couldn't read his lips.

"I'm great," she promised.

"It's not too late to change your mind," he reminded her. "We can say you were sick, or you weren't feeling well, or you just forgot, or-"

"-That I have diarrhea?" Y/N grinned a little. "You know, all of your solutions to this thing seem to involve me just running away or ignoring it."

"I mean, it's how you take on most of life," he shrugged.

"I've never felt more called out in life," she rolled her eyes. "Look, we've got a plan. I head over to the garage first, take a few pics, then say 'oh I have to go. I haven't even been to Williams' garage yet'. I've got this Logie, I promise. Besides, I don't even hate him. If I did, there would be a lot more violence threatened and swearing involved. I also would've blocked him."

Logan didn't look necessarily convinced, but he didn't argue either. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, "If you need anything, send me a 911 text. I'll be on standby the entire time, I swear."

Y/N smiled at the boy, waving goodbye as she dropped him off to the Williams garage.

"I know you'll be there," she smiled. "It's what we do. Be there for each other."

MEANWHILE, IN THE MCLAREN GARAGE, the Aussie driver was pacing back and forth, turning back to the entrance every few seconds.

"Yeah, great job at being subtle, Osc," Lando Norris, his teammate, commented sarcastically. "Who're you even waiting for?"

"Y/N," Oscar answered simply.

Normally, he'd engage in banter with his Brit teammate, but he was too nervous to give answers longer than a few words. He was finally going to see Y/N, in person. Not on the other side of a screen, not a flash of hair that ran away too quickly, not a caller ID he'd see on Logan's phone all too often. After all these years, he was finally going to be able to see her, face to face.

He had to admit, he did seem a little pathetic trying to contact her. But the DM he'd sent years ago on her public account had never gone through. And he'd left it, thinking maybe they weren't meant to know each other, simply to know of each other.

But then he'd seen her private instagram, with so few followers, he knew that she wouldn't be able to miss it. But maybe she didn't use it, or maybe it was an old account, but he had no luck on that account either.

He finally mustered the courage to ask Logan for her number and just reach out. He was surprised and a little shocked she said yeah, but he was in too deep now to change his mind.

"Oooh, who's Y/N?" Lando teased. "Is she a girlfriend?"

Oscar whipped his head towards his teammate, narrowing his eyes at him.

"Why are you a literal child?" he asked. "Y/N's a friend. Well, she's a friend of Logan's. His best friend. And everyone found out the two of us never met each other, and they went crazy saying we have to meet and whatnot. So I invited her here to take a few pictures."

Lando tilted his head, almost as if he was dissecting the truth behind Oscar's words.

"Logan? Logan Sargeant's best friend? Her name's Y/N?"

"Yes, Lando. And everyone says I'm his best friend in racing, so we have to meet or something."

"Alright, I believe you," Lando decided. "Call me when she gets here, I want to take pictures with her too."

"Sure," Oscar answered nonchalantly.

Turns out, there was no need to call him over, because a second after he'd said that, she walked in.

Oscar stared at her as she looked around the garage, her eyes drinking in just how different it was from the Williams' garage that she was used to.

Lando made a noise between a snort and a laugh, causing Oscar to glare at him.

"No, nothing," Lando nodded to himself, ignoring Oscar's silent question. He cupped his hands over his mouth, shouting across the garage, "Y/N!"

Her head whipped over to the sound of her name, her posture relaxing the slightest bit as she realized it was only Lando and Oscar and not some random person. She didn't exactly know them, never even met them, but she knew enough of them to be a little comfortable.

She smiled slightly as she reached them, "Hey. How are you guys?"

Lando looked to Oscar, who simply stared at Y/N, before decided to take the reigns. "We're good, thanks for asking. I'm Lando, my friend here is Oscar, and I assume you already know that."

"Yeah, I watch enough F1 to know that," she smiled, falling into easy conversation with the Brit.

"Well it's nice to know you didn't take an invitation from a man who's name you didn't know," Lando joked. "That's what I call important information."

"I went a step further and made sure he was known by a friend of mine," Y/N continued the banter. "My best friend." She turned to acknowledge Oscar, "Logan spoke highly of you for a long time now. It's nice to finally be able to meet you."

"Yeah, same," he nodded. "I mean, Logan's spoke a lot about you too. All the time. He still does. It's nice to meet you too."

Oscar resisted the urge to close his eyes and curse himself out.

Y/N didn't seem to mind his stuttering and stumbling. In fact, her posture seemed to straighten out a bit, and her smile turned a little bit more warm.

She was beginning to realize that no matter how bad Logan had gotten it, Oscar was human too. He was new to this, and he probably had someone defending him the way she defended Logan. Maybe she was a little harsh on him. She just didn't like how it wasn't fair.

It was why she wanted to be a lawyer. She wanted to try and make things fair for people.

But in defending Logan with her entire heart and soul... she was being unfair to Oscar. She could try and be nice. It's only for a few minutes. After that, she could go back to avoiding him.

"So, how do you wanna do the pictures?" Y/N asked. "We should get them done now, I might have to leave early if my laptop doesn't work. I have a few assignments due."

"Right, yeah," Oscar nodded. "We can- uh-"

"The lighting's nice over there," Lando pointed out. "I'll take the picture of you guys."

"You don't wanna be in it?" Y/N asked.

"No, I'm alright," Lando smiled. "Unfortunately, I'm not best friends with Logan, unlike you two. Besides, I'm pretty good with a camera."

Y/N frowned at the reminder that Lando was one of the drivers who wasn't friends with Logan. She quickly fixed her expression, but Oscar noticed (only because he'd has his eyes on her ever since she entered). He was tempted to ask her about it, but she smiled and his brain froze up.

"Alright then, let's take the picture."

youruser

liked by oscarpiastri, logansargeant, y/bffsuser & others

youruser: miami, you were fun 🤍

tagged: logansargeant, landonorris, oscarpiastri

pinned youruser: to my haters: fuck you, i'm always proud of logan. no matter what. i chose him as my best friend and i'll choose him again every time. i'm just sad y'all have never loved someone so much to understand what it means to always be proud of them, no matter any outcome. he's my best friend, my brother, and the outcome of race isn't going to change that

pinned youruser: i heard there was a logan's besties meet up @/oscarpiastri -> oscarpiastri: oh yeah, did you end up making it? -> youruser: swipe to find out!

landonorris: same time next race 👀👀 -> youruser: wanna do my class for me?? -> landonorris: i will understand nothing. -> oscarpiastri: as if you understand anything ever -> landonorris: all grown up now, are you? -> oscarpiastri: shut up

mclaren: it was a pleasure having you stop by! next time, you should stay for longer! -> williamsracing: stop stealing her from us

williamsracing: loved having you around for the weekend!

alex_albon: wowwww, i didn't even make the cut this weekend -> youruser: all the pics i took of you were 0.5s -> alex_albon: thanks for showing some mercy

user: stop she looks so pretty

user: logan bestie meet up... but where's logan? -> user: getting attacked by a haas in his home race -> user: oof

user: TELL EM GIRL!

user: i want what she and logan have. like they'd DIE for each other

oscarpiastri: it was great to finally meet you! hopefully it's not the last time either -> user: boy please TRY to be subtle

PART TWO

notes: i hope y'all liked this, don't forget to like + reblog! alsoo... comment on this part (not any others) if you want to be tagged, i might not respond but i'll add you to the taglist if you comment.

but my tags don't always work, so you might want to follow my writing tag 'naqia writes!' or the tag for this short series 'the bsf of my bsf! series' so they show up on your dash at some point :)

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jo-com · 6 months ago

Text

‎₊˚⊹ 𐦍༘⋆₊ ⊹ ➛ Shots

Oscar Piastri x Fem!reader

Summary: You guys are used to having people send out free drinks because they fancy Oscar, but when it was your turn he did not like it one bit. (Inspired by the oneshot I’ve read, I forgot who the author was sorry😭)

Genre: Fluff

Note: nothing, just look out for grammatical errors and this is not proofread

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ➛ My Masterlist

───── ─ ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ ─ ─────

The sun radiated brightly emitting a soft glow that shined over the flesh of your skin— it was creating a rather medium type of shade the longer it sets on your body.

You don’t mind it though, as long as you were relaxed and rested in the embrace of you boyfriend; everything was just okay.

You and Oscar, along with his fellow drivers decided to have a day off at the beach. It was trip that has been long overdue, due to their busy schedules the trip was postponed one to many times.

So when they had their day off, the lot of them took advantage of it and agreed to pay the beach a visit— enjoying the calming atmosphere that surrounds the beach and having to spend time with their significant others. The whole afternoon was nothing but perfect.

After playing volleyball, you guys decided to just chill near the bar lounge and gossip about anything that comes to mind.

You and Oscar sat at the middle in between Carlos and Lando. As they talk more and more, your eyes started to drift off; the sound of their voices started to mix the other background clamoring.

Your eyes were closed but was still tentative— you could still feel the brush of air that lightly ran over your skin along with Oscar’s fingers that circulates at the curve of your back.

With a low hum, you acknowledged his gesture and was pleased to let him know that you appreciate it.

As time passes by, they were all still happily chatting; laughing at each other’s joke and a bit of yelling but playful one’s of course. Everything seemed to be going so great.

Well not until one of the staffs walked towards their way, holding a tray that consists of one drink.

The whole group looked curiously as the man settled the drink in your table. The loudness of their voices suddenly died down—all eyes looking intently at the man whose just doing his job.

With the sudden quietness, curiously you fluttered your eyes open. Not being able used to the sound of silence, you propped your body up and was now leaning your whole body at Oscar’s chest.

Your eye’s widened as all attention was onto you— you felt the intense feeling of being stared at back of your head.

“Good day ma’am, that gentleman over there wanted to give you this” he spoke, his hand then went to his vest and pulled out a piece of paper.

The waiter handed you the note and left, right after you took the piece of paper.

“What does it say?” Max asked, just as curious as the others.

“I’d like to know as well” oscar spoke, his tone laced with both curiosity and jealousy.

“Well…” you trailed off and then proceeds to open the folded paper.

‘Hey hot stuff, can i have your number??’

You giggled at the childish note, making your friends cock their head to the side, anticipation rushed over them as they try to read the expression off your face.

Meanwhile Oscar was not having it, he caught a glimpse of the note and saw what was written over it. Oh he was not happy at all.

“It’s nothing, just some guy asking for my number, it’s stupid really” you spoke, brushing off the note like it was nothing, i mean it was nothing well for you it was.

For Oscar, it was like all hell broke loose, did that guy not notice Oscar or something?

All the others just laughed; you along with them. It was just a harmless attempt to get to you, it’s not that big of a deal. Oscar gets those every-time and it’s fine cause you know he wouldn’t act on it or anything.

You we’re about to reach for the drink when you felt Oscar’s hand grabbing it first. You turned to his direction and raised your brows at his action.

“Oooh someone’s jealous~” Lando teased, repeating it two more times before laughing out loud. The others heard the commotion that lando started and played along with his jokes.

Oscar rolled his eyes, completely denying his emotion. “I am not jealous, i just think it’s stupid,” he shrugged, trying to play it cool— even though you could tell his true feeling just by looking at his face.

“Yeah right” Carlos replied, earning a fit of giggle from around the group.

“You’re not actually jealous? Are you baby?” You spoke teasingly, chuckling a little at your own words.

“Like i said, i am not” he said in a monotone voice; he was acting childish it was adorable. In your eyes it was— it wasn’t in his.

You then slowly shifted your body to face his and snaked your arms that rested on his shoulder blades. “Don’t take it at heart baby, you know I won’t actually give him my number right?” You whispered, loud enough for him to only hear.

“I know…” he sighed, his arm settled in the plush of your thighs; squeezing the soft surface to find comfort.

“I just don’t like it that i was here and he still asked you, am I invisible or something?” He added. His head hung low to avoid your stare.

A soft giggle left your lips as you grazed your finger over his chin and slowly lift it up, so you could be eye to eye. “Now you know what i feel when someone does that to you, but baby rest assured that i am yours and only yours.”

Oscar slowly smiled and hugged your body close to his,”i love you” he muttered— the hug getting tighter to which you of course accepted happily.

“I love you too, my love” you smiled and pecked his lips; it was short but meaningful kiss of assurance.

The whole day then went fine, sure they were teasing him non stop but it doesn’t affect him that much like earlier because you were there to assure him every-time.

…

Creds to the real owners ideas, this is just my version of it! Hope you like it guys sorry for not posting to much I’ve been in a writers block😭😭

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cloudcountry · 5 months ago

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Hi, I was wondering if you could do a Malleus, Jamil, Leona, Vil, and Idia x Fem Reader, where A mix-up with Valentine's Day gifts leads to Reader receiving a gift meant for the character in question, and the confusion might lead to an unexpected confession?

SUMMARY: you get a gift that was meant for the student you like, and the contents spur you to action.

COMMENTS: so usually its them getting jealous of you being courted but i decided hey its YOUR turn to be jealous. good luck!!

im a firm believer that anyone who says getting jealous when youre not dating is weird is the weird one. like obviously you'd be upset, you wanted to be with them and you're not. of course you feel bad. it's okay to feel bad??? like thats literally so normal. you dont have to be like "oh ofc im happy for them!!" like you can BE SAD. its okay.

You stare blankly at the box of chocolate in your hands, the gift crammed into your desk haphazardly. At first, you thought it was for you—that’s what anyone would assume, right? Except...the note on top of it is not addressed to you, but rather, the guy you like. It makes you wonder if this is some joke, or if one of his friends wanted you to deliver it for him. You pick at the heart sticker sealing the note shut and peel it open, taking a peak of the contents.

Your eyes wide and your heart lurches in your chest, panic and annoyance roaring like red hot flames as you read what sounds like a genuine confession of love. Someone had their eyes on him? How did you never notice?

Was it weird to get jealous? I mean, he’s not even dating you yet...you don’t even know if he feels the same way. You can’t deny it doesn’t feel good that there’s another student trying to woo him, though. You’ve been so scared up until this point, so nervous about what he might think, but the clock is ticking. You’ve got to tell him before it’s too late.

Leona cracks open a single eye when you softly knock on his door and enter, shutting the door behind you. With the look on your face, you’ve got something very serious to tell him.

“Woah there, herbivore. You look like someone died.” he yawns, flopping on his side as his tail flicks lazily behind him, “What’s got your face all twisted up?”

His eyes dart to the heart shaped box in your hand and his ears twitch. You look apprehensive—his smirk only grows when he realizes you’ve brought him an offering. How sweet.

“I like you. Romantically.” you blurt.

The second you say it you think about how many other ways you could have said that exact thing and sounded way smoother.

“Yeah, I figured as much. So you came to confess? I feel the same.” Leona yawns again, feeling a bit mischievous as he turns him back on you and yanks the covers over his head, “Well, goodnight then.”

“What...What the fuck, Leona?” you sputter, and he starts laughing harder than he’s ever laughed before.

Jamil wasn’t expecting to receive anything today. You can tell he wasn’t, because the second you walk into Scarabia his eyes go wide when he sees the chocolates and note. You don’t hand it to him though, and that makes him pause.

“Did something happen?” he asks softly, searching your face for an answer as you stare him down.

“I like you.” you blurt, and Jamil’s ears start to ring.

I like you...?

“What?” he clears his throat, shifting on his feet, “Sorry, did I hear you right?”

“Yeah. Yeah you did.” you reply immediately, as if there’s no room for doubt whatsoever.

“Oh.” he says, thinking a million thoughts at once and simultaneously nothing at all.

“Well? How do you feel about me?” you ask, and your voice shakes like you’re scared.

Jamil doesn’t know why you believe there’s room for doubt.

“I feel the same.”

And he smiles.

It's obvious that his words are awkward and reserved, but you know he doesn’t mean it in a bad way.

Vil’s pretty brow furrows in concern when he sees how upset you look, your whole body wound tight like you’ve never been so tormented in your life. You poor thing...you look so stressed out. He whisks you into his arms and into his room, where he sits you in front of his vanity and insists you tell him what’s wrong.

“These were on my desk.” you tell him, handing him the gift, “I can’t stand the thought of someone else confessing to you first. I wanted to tell you before it was too late.”

Vil reads the note in silence. He admits it's sweet, but it reads more like fanmail than an actual confession. He places it on the vanity and looks back at you, a tender look in his eyes.

“My dove...I love how bold you are.” he takes your hands in his, and goosebumps shoot up your arms at his gentle, perfect touch, “But you had nothing to worry about. I am yours.”

“I’m sorry, what!? Some extroverted rando wanted to confess their feelings to me!?” Idia shrieks, face twisting into a confused scowl, “Is that some kind of joke?”

You furrow your brow, a scowl of your own on your face as he jumps to the conclusion that it’s a joke.

“You’re really attractive Idia, you know that right? You’re handsome and smart and kind too!” you snap, feeling personally insulted by his assumption, “Don’t assume it’s a joke! I’m taking this very seriously!”

You toss the chocolates on his bed and hand him the note, crossing your arms over your chest. Idia reads through it but he doesn’t seem happy, his scowl planted firmly on his face.

“I don’t believe it.” he huffs, bringing his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them, the note crushed in his fist, “Someone’s planning a prank on me.”

“Idia Shroud!” you kneel in front of him, placing your hands on his.

You don’t miss the way his hair flares pink.

“I’ll let you know that I like you very much! And I’m not joking with you one bit! I have never been more serious in my life!” you huff, squeezing his hands as you stare straight into his eyes, “So stop acting like anyone who loves you is foolish!”

Idia opens and closes his mouth like a fish out of water, the pink flames creeping up into the roots of his hair.

That’s enough of an answer for today.

“Child of Man...you mean another confessed their affections for me?” Malleus grumbles.

He’d looked so excited when you walked in with a gift in your arms, but the second he learned it wasn’t from you his eyes narrowed and his lips pulled into a pout. Was it raining outside now...?

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I mean. But...if I’m being honest, I don’t like it.” you huff, placing the gift on his desk, “I want you to be mine, and I want to be yours in return. Someone else having you doesn’t sit right with me.”

Oh, suddenly it’s sunny out. Huh. Wonder why that happened.

You slowly turn to look at Malleus.

Sure enough, his lips are pulled into a bright smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he reaches for you.

“I’d be your everything if you’d let me” he croons, tucking you into his chest.

TAGLISTS -> leona's napping buddies . . . @loser-jpg @vivigoesinsane @dove-da-birb

-> jamil's jewels . . . @vivigoesinsane @identity-theft-101 @dove-da-birb

-> vil's spudlings . . . @cookiesandbiscuits @vivigoesinsane @dove-da-birb

-> idia's player twos . . . @vivigoesinsane @identity-theft-101 @dove-da-birb

-> malleus's most trusted . . . @vivigoesinsane @identity-theft-101 @rosalianel @dove-da-birb

#auburn's fics <3 #twst #twisted wonderland #disney twst #twst wonderland #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #disney twst x reader #leona kingscholar #leona kingscholar x reader #jamil viper #jamil viper x reader #vil schoenheit #vil schoenheit x reader #idia shroud #idia shroud x reader #malleus draconia #malleus draconia x reader #gn reader

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endearng · 22 days ago

Text

About you

Pairing: Spencer Reid x ex!reader Summary: You know a place that you go to remember Spencer Reid's face. You never thought you'd get to actually see him again. WC: 4.6k Warnings: brief mentions of Spencer's trauma (childhood, addiction); hints at poor coping mechanisms/mental struggles; miscommunication; running away. A/N: This is a mix between canon events and some things are fiction (mostly when it comes to the timeline of the show) and I picture later seasons Spencer. This is based on many songs from ttpd, but this fic came to mind when I was listening to 'About You' by the 1975. I really hope you guys like it. Feedbacks are always welcome and appreciated <3 masterlist

You sat on one of the park benches. Actually, it was on the park bench, near a tree, you used to occupy with Spencer after getting your favorite treats from the coffee shop nearby.

It was your first date as boyfriend and girlfriend and he had started reading to you once the chatter had died down a little bit. He looked beautiful that day, eyes leaving the book pages every now and then so he could catch a glimpse of you. Every time he did, you smiled at him. You were so enamored by his eyes that you didn't care if you were perceived as desperate or too lovestruck when he looked at you. You felt warm inside and for a moment, you thought it could last forever.

From that day on, whenever you could, you'd always go to that park and sit on that specific bench. You even carved your initials in it.

Now, as you caressed the old indentation, dark from all the time that had passed, you were all alone. A hole in your chest.

You were living in Virginia, about to get your Master's Degree. It was the time of the semester when everything seems to be piling up and you can never get the time to take care of it as you should. As you walked home at night, you witnessed a young couple walking into a dark forest, but you didn't mind — horny kids were everywhere and you were glad they had a nice way to let off some steam, not being one to judge someone’s kinks.

The next thing you knew, the FBI wanted to see you. They sent a cute, awfully young agent to your apartment, who introduced himself as 'Doctor Spencer Reid' and waved at you once you answered the door, telling you you had been the last person to witness that young woman alive. You froze, unable to look away from him, sheer shock crossing your intriguing, mesmerizing features. Spencer Reid took more than a minute to try to calm you down to have you answer his questions. Despite your head going miles per minute, you tried to help out as much as you could and were able to describe the man as you managed to recall some of his features.

Then, you had gotten Spencer's number to keep him posted if anything happened, since that unsub was kidnapping and torturing girls from your university. When they wrapped up the case to go home, Spencer went to your building to tell you they were returning to Quantico. You had grown fond of him, his presence a warm embrace compared to the chaos around you, so when he broke the news, you did feel a little disappointed, even though you knew that he would eventually leave. He was sensitive to the matters around him, doing everything in his power and using his intelligence to help everyone around him. It made you grow a sense of hope in other people you haven’t felt in a while.

You took your study break a little earlier that night once you saw him at your doorstep, deciding you'd give him your time. A low "So, you're leaving..." escaping your mouth once he told you why he went to your place. To say goodbye. You couldn't conceal the sadness in your voice.

"Yeah. I just wanted to say goodbye. And to thank you, of course, you helped us a lot." He said, eyes never leaving yours.

"Anytime, Doctor," you joked. "I'm gonna miss you. Even if we've just met. Even if you had to be aware of something so terrible." You confessed. His eyes widened at you in surprise.

His eyes. Big, doe eyes glancing at you like you held the answers to the whole universe.

In that moment, you did. Not his education, not PhD's, plural, not anything he learned from all the books he read and certainly not his time in the bureau. You held the answers.

He chuckled, a little shy. Unable to tell you, verbally, that he would miss you, too. His eyes did the job, though. "Yeah, yeah. It was nice knowing you."

"Yeah, it was," you agreed, coming a little closer to him. You gave him a kiss on his cheek. Soft, warm skin against your lips making butterflies swarm in your belly. He smiled, widely, sincerely.

You wished he was yours.

You also wished he knew that you meant that, 'besides the bad guy and all the terrible things, it was fun meeting you because you are full of light. A masterpiece.'

"Take care, okay, doctor?" You whispered, slowly pulling away from him. “I’ll see you around.”

"Be safe,” he wished, “I hope so, in better conditions."

A few days passed and you got your first call from Spencer, which turned into a second, a third and when you noticed, you were scheduling hang outs. Those turned into dates when you started to go out more frequently to every new place you wanted the other to know. All of that and touching each other more often, more carefully, more passionately than regular friends did.

You simply sat there, your memories the only thing keeping you company, haunting you, besides the tears that pricked in the corner of your eyes. You missed him so much. You missed the time you had with him.

Two years into your relationship, things got more and more complicated. You struggled to keep up with his life and more often than not you seemed to keep much to yourselves instead of sharing things with each other. You never thought you'd share (funny wording) such a distant relationship with someone, let alone one you knew for sure there was so much love and respect. During your time together, you learned about Spencer’s past and some pieces fell into place; he was somehow explained by everything he had faced as a child, teenager and now as an adult — his mother’s condition, his dad walking away, the bullying, being abducted and its consequences. You held him through it all, when the memories and feelings of powerlessness washed over him.

Then, Spencer started to be away more often and the physical distance, enforced by the emotional one that slowly grew between you two, made you feel like you were an intruder in his life. So, you gradually started to hold yourself back from starting conversations. You rarely had his attention and you figured it was because his mind was always elsewhere.

Yours was, too. Back in a time when things were simpler.

As time went by, being around him, too quiet and far out of each other’s reach, simply floating in his orbit, felt like a heavy burden you had to carry in order to keep him in your life. He never opened up and since you didn’t either, you felt like you didn't have the right to suggest you two should fix things, so you let him be. Coexisting together in the same space, oceans apart from each other’s lives and struggles, never touching the subject. The result, of course, was that you grew apart.

It all ended, officially, when you decided to move away to get your Doctorate as an excuse to run away from the hard conversations that you knew would take place if you confronted him about where had things, where had you gone so terribly wrong. You were hell-bent on trying to turn your heartbreak and deception into something, into an achievement. Then, you both decided, albeit reluctantly, that breaking up was the best choice for you, since you’d move away. The part that there was already a huge gap between the two of you remained unspoken. You tried convincing yourself that it would be easier, since you’d never have to see him and you'd be okay being in past chapters of Spencer’s life.

Funnily enough, it wasn't that simple.

You see, the heart is a tricky machine. The wording here is not random: it works, of course, to primarily pump the blood through your veins to make sure you are getting enough oxygen around your body and deliver waste objects, like carbon dioxide, back to the lungs, to be removed — Spencer had told you so once when you told him your heart beat for him in a corny deliver of a joke. Despite the fact that he was right, you can never anticipate how the heart will react once it has no access to the aim of its affections, after being cut off from their life. Worse: after being slowly dragged away from the one it was sure it would be able to adore for the rest of its pumping-function life. You figured that, maybe it would continue working for as long as it needs to, but not with the same devotion it once knew and now was deprived of.

That was how you passed the last few years of your life.

After Spencer, you weren't really interested in anyone. You tried to put yourself out there, made new friends, tried dating some people, traveled abroad, discovered more about yourself. Nevertheless, in the back of your hopeless mind and dejected heart, you held the memories you had created with him close to your very soul. When things got too quiet, it was him that you thought of. On a train, on the way home or to somewhere new and/or special, in the lazy mornings you spent by yourself, in the nights that got too lonely to bear by yourself, during your lunch breaks that you always seemed to remember how much he loved sharing those with you — stealing food from his plate, even if you didn't like whatever he was having, just so he could steal your dessert to make sharing equal. He got a sweet tooth after dating you.

Now, though, something felt off. You had spent years of your life pining and longing and hoping that you'd find your way back to each other in the end that now you didn't have the guts to search for him. You kept an eye on his life and could remember a thing or two of all his achievements and papers that were published in science magazines, a brief abstract ready to roll off your tongue if someone asked you about it. You tried keeping up with his professional life in order to feel closer to him, but the thing was, you didn't know if he had someone else, if he had moved on more easily than you (not that you had), if he had learned to cope a little better with the hardships of his job. You always said he needed some rest for his noisy mind.

Even the air in your hometown made you think of him. Felt like him: distant, missed and still plaguing your thoughts. It was the aftermath of running away for some time.

In hindsight, perhaps you had only shared fleeting moments with Spencer and it was a frail affair, doomed from day one, knowing how different your lifestyles were. When you got too fed up with your longing and inner romanticism over this relationship, you would try to convince yourself that you were better off without him. That being alone was better than to be by yourself in a relationship that you only kept for the sake of calling him yours.

Still, there was something missing. You didn't know what it was, but you were tired of wasting your time, waiting for a bus that never showed.

From afar, Spencer watched, dumbfounded, a figure that resembled someone he once loved so much, sitting on the bench he used to share with you. He still does love. Or maybe he doesn't. He doesn't know, really. He's been through so much, losing loved ones, losing his mother and enduring several trauma after leaving the FBI, never having the time to properly take in the happenings in his life. Could it possibly be you? He could never forget your form, no matter how many years passed and how hard he had tried to do that. His heart started slowing, oxygen lacking in his lungs. He felt dizzy. Was it a mirage?

Or maybe it did, and perhaps you had missed it.

Memories started to flood his mind and he was unable to move.

Daylight faded, announcing the beginning of the evening. Spencer listened as you read to him one of your favorite novels, The Hour of the Star, a Brazilian novel by Clarice Lispector. It definitely wasn't romantic, but you always made sure to use the correct tone whenever you were reading the characters' lines, and you paused every now and then to make comments and listened when he had one of his own. Those were precious, rare, quiet moments in his hectic life. He cherished them because of that, of course, but most importantly because you were with him.

Once you finished the chapter you were reciting, you noticed how dark it already was and that the lights of the city were already on, casting a soft glow over Spencer. He looked exceptionally, effortlessly beautiful that night. You smiled at him. "Shall we go home, Spence?"

"Yes," he accepted, helping you up. You thanked him with a kiss to his cheek, which made him flustered.

Years together and he could never get used to the effect your touch had on him, always wishing he could have more, more, more.

As you walked home together, he took your ring, a gift from him that was usually placed in your left hand, and put it on the one people put wedding rings on. Your reply was to kiss him senseless in public.

He felt like the wind had been knocked out of him when you abruptly broke the kiss, looking back with a mischievous, happy expression on your face. He trailed after you, one single thought in mind: I'll never let you go.

The woman — he didn't want to deceive himself if she wasn't you, he was staring at her back, after all, so he thought it was better to be careful with his hopes —, had longer hair, fit better into her clothes, but her movements were scarily just like yours. From the way she looked around to the slight tilt of her head when you'd contemplate the park all those years ago. Spencer felt his thoughts clouding with the need to approach her, curiosity driving him to work on this instinct, but as soon as he moved to walk, he instantly halted his movements. What would he say?

"Hello?", "Is that you?" "Are you back?" "Are you real?" "Have you forgotten about me?"

The questions swimmed around his head like he had no control over his own mind. If there was a monitor to show every single thought running through his brain, it would definitely collapse, smoke clouding the air, telling how overwhelmed he felt. He decided on approaching as a passerby, walking as if he didn't want anything by it, acting nonchalant. He made his way closer to the bench, to the woman.

She heard footsteps behind her, not too close, but still turned to search for the source of the disturbance, out of her daydreaming. You looked at each other for a moment that felt like an eternity — time stopped, the children stopped playing and the passersby stopped breathing.

As you turned around, your eyes found Spencer. The love of your life. You took in his appearance. His hair was long, unlike how it had been when you last saw him, and he didn't care about styling it as much as he did when he was younger, his curls unruly and a little messy, a little stubble growing on his face. His expression looked harder now, more tired, ripe. You couldn't quite know how to describe him properly. For a moment, you considered that he had hardened over the years, opposite from the caring, soft man you've met and loved ardently once.

On a surface level, looking at him made you feel like you've been loving a ghost. A memory, something that could never return.

Your mind suddenly felt empty. You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

"You?" You heard the question, uncertain, leave his lips in a low voice. Was it in your head or did you sense hurt?

Again, you wanted to speak, to say something, greet him, tell him you've missed him, ask him if he was okay. Nothing came out. Everything seemed inappropriate. Again, he beat you to it, coming closer to you, voice firmer. "What are you... I thought you'd left."

"I did."

"I know."

Silence. He got closer, moving to sit beside you.

"Yeah." Silence. Still looking at each other. "I came back a couple of months ago. Started visiting exactly three weeks ago, today." You revealed to break the silence, even though the idea that everything that came out of your mouth was improper still plagued your mind.

Spencer felt baffled. You looked different, more mature, even your style had drastically changed — you once wore colorful, baggier outfits, full of life and bright shades matching your personality (you even went shopping with Penelope and you exchanged fashion tips), but now, you wore more sober, neutral tones. Instead of the usual sneakers, or the Converse you both loved to wear together to match your outfits — his black and yours blue —, you wore black boots with heels. You looked grown. And it fit you. Still, your face was the same: your eyes held the same glimmer in them from all those years ago, your lips still as inviting as it ever was for him.

He licked his own, realizing his mouth was dry. "I come here every now and then when things get too heated." He confided, eyes never leaving your figure.

You smiled. A hole in his chest, desolation invading his being. The simple act still makes his machine of a heart ache and speed to reach its full capacity. Of breaking for you. "It's peaceful."

You knew that he seeked solace from whatever was happening in your memories together in that place. At least, you hoped so. You hoped, selfishly, that he thought of you as much as you thought of him, of his ghost. That he ached for you as much as you ached for him.

"Yeah."

Awkward silence engulfed the two of you. You didn't know where to look, but you could never stop scanning his face, taking in his features with care. "I like your hair. It fits you," you said.

He got closer, less than an arm's length between the two of you. Almost itching for you to touch his hair, eyes pleading for some mercy on your end. You've been awfully quiet and if meeting him maim you, you certainly have improved your poker face skills. "You've changed," he retorted. "I never thought I'd see you so different from, you know..."

You didn’t remember Spencer at a loss of words.

Too close. "I hope for the better."

"Why didn't you call?" He asked, brows furrowing.

Come to think of it, it was an excuse you had rehearsed quite a few times when you imagined this scenario, “I was settling, still trying to contact everyone, still finding my way around…”

“And you didn’t think of me?” His tone was wounded. He certainly dreamed you’d come back and was positively sure that you’d reach out to him. Of course, he was wrong.

He didn’t know what to say. Of course he would pick up, but there was no way you could know about it nor trust him if he said so; why would you? You had left him because he built walls around him, cutting you off from his life, torturing you, slowly dragging the end of your relationship and he couldn’t explain why. Once you left, Spencer delved into his work life like never before. He flirted with women and even slept around, which he was aware was a poor coping mechanism, all to outrun the desertion of you, desperately wishing he could forget that he could feel alive in your presence. He even tried having a relationship. It was nice having someone around, now that he was grown and had made peace with some of his demons, but it was never like you and it was all that she was to him: someone around. He never felt that spark with her like he had felt with you, never again having a taste of the sensation that ran through him whenever he stumbled excitedly into your apartment when you invited him over, seizing the rare opportunities to be with you, happiness bubbling inside him. With his new girlfriend, it was quiet. He mistook it for the calmness he lacked within himself when he was with you, but it was just bland. Needless to say, he felt awful about straight up using a person to keep his mind off of you, but it was nice while it worked. He started longing for something he couldn’t even describe what it was.

“Of course I did. I just thought you wouldn't pick up,” you replied.

One day, you guys met halfway, between the two cities you were both in. It was raining and you launched yourself into his arms once you recognized him. You had kissed him like a soldier's wife, for you sure definitely missed him like one — he had been away on a case which took longer than usual. “Hi,” you greeted, shyly, after giving him the hottest kiss of his life.

“Hi,” he smiled, a little flushed.

“I couldn't wait to get to you, Spence,” you confessed, arms pulling him back to hug you once again, his own engulfing your figure. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too. I miss you all the time.” He said, burying his face into the crook of your neck, wet hair prickling on his skin. He peeled himself away from you, taking a deep breath. “Do you want to be my girlfriend?”

The squealed “Yes!” before you kissed him ardently once more was forever ingrained into his mind.

Amidst his reverie, you stood up from your seat. The wind tousled your hair slightly, so you used your left hand to tuck it behind your ear. The street lights reflected their light on a ring you had on your left hand. He recognized it instantly. “I should go,” you murmured, slightly graceless.

“You still have it.”

You looked at him, still sitting and nodded softly. You were hit with the realization that he also remembered you. It didn’t matter that it was such a small thing about you, relief flooded your veins at the very thought that he thought of you. “I do.”

You waved at him, your lips turned upwards shyly. You turned your back and started walking away from him. Again, he thought. And again, he let you, without putting up a fight, which he was aware that he should have done. The elephant in his chest was a light weight compared to the heavy truth dancing around in his throat. Said truth would become much bigger, a heavier burden for him to carry, once it made its way out of him. Speaking made it real. He knew it because every memory that he kept of you, in a sacred, untouched area of his own consciousness, was full of comfort after sharing uncomfortable truths.

It was like his heart screamed at him to keep searching, to keep trying for the person who made it beat faster. But his brain, foggy with all the logic and terrible, horrid things he had to face, decided it was best to keep himself away from you, to save himself the trouble of being the target of pity, or worse, being another person who left him.

From that day on, you’d casually visit the park, secretly wishing you could see him more. It didn't take too long until your wishes were granted, no matter how private you thought they were. Perhaps they were all over your face and he could still read you so easily. Despite the apparent capacity of reading your wants, you were positively sure that Spencer didn't know what to say, just like you. Everything, including him, felt as distant as you had left it. You weren't sure if you could go back, but running away was just as troublesome: you had to adapt in order to survive, but everyone else surrounding you was already fit to the environment. You stuck out like a sore thumb, unable to connect with anyone but the protagonist from past memories of what once was a happy relationship.

Every time you were there, you sensed someone looking at you shortly after your arrival. It was like an unspoken agreement between the two of you, to try to talk things through without rushing into anything, trying to conquer the other's forgiveness by sharing both ordinary and big moments you had during your time apart. As you sat down and talked and shared, you realized that you'd never stop loving him, not even for a second, not even if you could. You had tried and failed, and kept coming back for more to fall in love with the same person over and over.

These encounters quickly turned into the best moments of Spencer's weeks, getting to be filled in on the things he had missed in your life. You had shown him photos, your new degree, new friends, discussed details about your job and how things were in your family. All of that wrapped in intricate, subtle details on how much you'd turned into a person he was already feeling proud of. You had grown into a strong-willed woman who managed to keep your heart as pure as the day you had met him. You still had the traits that made you fall in love with him.

One day, you two were sitting on the bench and you pointed to your initials on it. “Heh, I remember that day. You kept worrying someone was going to show up and stop me from doing it.”

He smiled. “I'm glad no one did.”

“It's funny, isn't it?” You asked, eyes on the indentation, not expecting him to answer due the lack of context. He frowned. “I mean, us. Acting like we don't know each other just for the sake of spending time together.”

He thought for a moment. With your shameless comment, you were definitely daring him to say something. Daring him to make things real, but better this time. “I like that idea,” he said, getting you to look at him. “Don't you? We get to meet each other again. I get to meet you again and I get to make sure that, this time, I'll never let you go.”

“You still don't know me enough to say that with such sureness,” you said, feeling bashful all of a sudden. It was also one of your behaviors that got him so enthralled, once again. Your capacity of saying something and then act coyly, as if you didn't know what he was talking about. Almost backtracking on whatever you had said that was a little more risky than the usual chatter.

He wouldn't let you.

“I want to.”

His tone made you speechless. Your expression turned into one of sheer, pure enchantment. It told him everything he needed to know.

Everything bad was now under the bridge and you could finally have each other back after being so patient.

He now remembered what it was that he missed so dearly in his life.

You.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #matthew gray gubler #spencer reid fanfic #doctor spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x yn #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #criminal minds fanfiction #mgg

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battymommastuff · 10 months ago

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The Fire-Eater

Batmom x Batman, Batmom x Batfamily

Prompt: While digging through the attic, Dick Grayson and Jason Todd uncover a secret about their adoptive mother. A secret that reveals the true, and dark story of the most loved couple in Gotham City

Masterlist

!!DISCLAIMER!! - This likely won't be comic accurate (Obviously), but I did draw inspiration from the comics. If you are looking for something accurate, then this fanfic isn't for you.

*cough*

"Jesus Christ, you'd think they would dust up here once in a while." Jason rasps as he waves his hand in the air to clear the cloud of dust. Dick just rolled his eyes and lifted another box out of the way, causing another cloud of dust to poof into the air, "Where is this damn blanket anyway?" He asked, ripping open an old box to look for the blanket in question. Why? You, their adopted mother, is currently carrying their youngest sibling. The first, and only pregnancy of yours. Seeing that you aren't as young as you used to be, the pregnancy is a high risk. As per doctor's orders, you were to remain on bed rest now that you were close to your due date.

Before that, you'd been working on the nursery. Everything was perfect, but you were missing one thing. Bruce's baby blanket. A blanket you'd only ever seen in pictures, but knew that you wanted it for your future child. Unfortunately, that didn't seem to be possible. All of your children were far too old for the blanket when they were adopted. Now you had your baby on the way, and you wanted that blanket. To prevent you from climbing up there yourself, your two oldest sons decided to.

"Some of the boxes are older than me." Dick joked as he held up a box of old photo albums. The date on the box was ten years before he was born. He set the box down, and kept shifting through the boxes. They were looking for a box with Bruce's birth year on it. All of his baby items were stored there. He moved another box then frowned when he saw one tucked in a far corner. It was opened, and he saw a black outfit lined with red sequins, an outfit he swore he's seen before...a circus outfit. What caught his eye next was a rolled up poster, "Hey, Jason." He called out while picking up the poster. Dick unrolled it slowly, then felt his heart sink to his stomach.

A poster for Haly's Circus. The Circus he was apart of before his biological parents died. He still remembered that day as if it just happened. On the poster was a woman eating fire. Her outfit, a black leotard with red sequins lining it. (H/C) hair, and (S/C) skin. Unless Bruce had a certain type, there was no way it couldn't be you. How? How was this possible? He remembered meeting you that night. You were dressed as if you just walked out of business meeting, and you were with Bruce. The date on the poster dated years before you ever met Bruce.

Dick set the poster down right as Jason approached him, still grumbling about all of the dust. He picked up a small book next. Opening it, he found pictures. Old pictures of you, and other members of the circus. You and Haly...you and his parents. You knew his parents? One picture was of you, his dad, his mom, and him as a newborn. You knew who he was before you ever met him? How come he never knew this? Why did you leave the circus? How did you end up marrying Bruce Wayne of all people?

"Holy shit, Mom never told us this." Jason said while holding up the torches and an old bottle of alcohol. What they saw in the bottom of the box made both of their spines tingle. A mask...a Court of the Owls mask. Dick knew the story, and he knew his lineage. He knew his potential fate, had he never been adopted. Why did you have a mask? All of these questions in his head, and he knew the one person who could answer them.

He shoved all the items back into the box, and stormed out of the attic with it. Dick wanted answers, and he wanted them now. He carried the box through the manor with Jason on his heels, while holding back his tears. He felt lied to? Betrayed? He didn't know, but he needed to know. He felt like you were an entirely new person now. Dick opened the door to your bedroom. You were watching as Stephanie painted your toenails, and Damian was lecturing you on your health.

"Oh! Did you-..." You cut off when you saw the box he was carrying. It'd been years, and you forgot about that box. Honestly, you thought you threw it out, "Dick..." Your oldest son walked over and slammed the box on the bed, causing your two other sons and Stephanie to glare at him.

"Start talking, Mom...right now."

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inkskinned · 11 months ago

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she's three years younger than i am, and i put on cascada as a throwback, cackling - before your time! i've been borrowing my brother's car, and it's older than dirt, so the trunk is like, maybe permanently locked. when the sun comes through the window to frame her cheekbones, i feel like i'm 16 again. i shake when i'm kissing her, worried i won't get it right.

in 2003, my state made gay marriage legal. where she grew up, it wasn't legal until 11 years later - 10 years ago. if legal protections for gay marriage were a person, that person would be entering 5th grade. online, a white gay man calls the fight for legal marriage boring, which isn't kind of him but it is a common enough opinion.

it has only been 9 years since gay marriage was nationally official. it is already boring to have gay people in your tv. it is already boring to mention being gay - "why make it your entire personality?" i know siblings that have a larger age gap than the amount of time it's been legally protected. i recently saw a grown man record himself crying about how evil gay people are. he was begging us, red in the face - just do better.

i am absolutely ruined any time my girlfriend talks about being 27 (i know!! a child!), but we actually attended undergrad at the same time since i had taken off time to work between high school and college. while walking through the city, we drop our hands, try not to look too often at each other. the other day i went to an open mic in a basement. the headlining comedian said being lesbian isn't interesting, but i am a lesbian, if you care. as a joke, she had any lesbian raise their hand if present. i raised mine, weirdly embarrassed at being the single hand in a sea of other faces. she had everyone give me a round of applause. i felt something between pride and also throwing up.

sometimes one thing is also another thing. i keep thinking about my uncle. he died in the hospital without his husband of 35 years - they were not legally wed, so his husband could not enter. this sounds like it should be from 1950. it happened in 2007. harassment and abuse and financial hardship still follow any person who is trying to get married while disabled. marriage equality isn't really equal yet.

and i don't know that i can ever put a name to what i'm experiencing. sometimes it just feels... so odd to watch the balance. people are fundamentally uninterested in your identity, but also - like, there's a whole fucking bastion of rabid men and women who want to kill you. your friends roll their eyes you're gay we get it and that is funny but like. when you asked your father do you still love me? he just said go to your room. you haven't told your grandmother. disney is on their 390th "first" gay representation, but also cancelled owl house and censored the fuck out of gravity falls. you actively got bullied for being gay, but your advisor told you to find a different gimmick for your college essay - everyone says they're gay these days.

once while you were having a hard day you cried about the fact that the reason our story is so fucking boring to so many people is that it is so similar. that it is rare for one of us to just, like, have a good experience across the board. that our stories often have very parallel bends - the dehumanization, the trauma, the trouble with trusting again. these become rote instead of disgusting. how bad could it be if it is happening to so many people?

i kiss my girlfriend when nobody is looking. i like her jawline and how her hands splay when she's making a joke. there is nothing new about this story, sappho. i love her like opening up the sun. like folding peace between the layers of my life, a buttercream of euphoria, freckles and laughter and wonder.

my dad knows about her. i've been out to him since i was 18 - roughly four years before the supreme court would protect us. the other day he flipped down the sun visor while driving me to the eye doctor. "you need to accept that your body was made for a husband. you want to be a mother because you were made for men, not women." he wants me to date my old high school boyfriend. i gagged about it, and he shook his head. he said - "don't be so dramatic. you can get used to anything."

the other day a straight friend of mine snorted down her nose about it, accidentally echoing him - she said there are bigger problems in this world than planning a wedding.

#splled ink #writeblr #it's really hard to describe what im feeling

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the-daily-dreamer · 4 months ago

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So a lot of people have talked about the weird sexual punishment and embarrassment utilized against team green and I wanted to weigh in because I think it’s the perfect example of the hypocrisy of this show’s messaging.

Because on the surface, HOTD takes a very sex positive stance. They champion Rhaenyra for being very open with her sexuality and for being sexually liberated in a very conservative society. They act as if she is an impressive beacon of feminism for this. And that would be great…if it weren’t for the fact that this sex positive outlook lives and dies with Rhaenyra’s and team black’s sexual experiences only.

Outside of Rhaenyra’s perspective, sex scenes are often degrading, predatory, abusive, and meant to embarrass the character to others in universe and/or the audience.

Criston is seen saying no and trying to leave when being coerced into sex with Rhaenyra which she promptly ignores by kissing him and blocking the door. Then that sex he consistently has with Rhaenyra is used as a joke for how pathetic he is for not accepting her offer to be nothing more than a personal “whore”. And his consensual sex with Alicent is seen as hypocrisy but also interrupted by Helaena after blood and cheese so that he can be blamed for this atrocity because of his “immorality”.

Aemond is seen cuddling in the lap like a young child of the woman who raped him when he was young, then being served milk, and then walking out of the brothel naked. With the whole scene being painted uncomfortable and rather degenerate.

Aegon has a scene of him being a rapist to ensure he is known as a bad and evil man. And then he has a scene where he explicitly states how his genitalia have been damaged. As if his disability from his attack is embarrassing and disgusting.

Larys one of the few disabled characters in the show, has a fetish that surrounds his disability that he uses to degrade Alicent. Thereby making him seem disgusting and pathetic.

And of course. Alicent. Her first sexual encounter we see her have is her looking dead inside while being raped by her pedophilic husband, a scene that seems to have the connotation of deserved assault because “she asked for this” by “seducing” Viserys. She is fetishized for information and thus makes her seem degraded and gross. Her sex with Criston is interrupted by Helaena after blood and cheese so that she, too, is blamed for the atrocity of the murder of her grandchild because she was “immoral” for…having consensual sex with someone after her rapist husband finally dies.

Every scene that any team green character experiences is painted in a way that portrays them as disgusting, perverted, and immoral; or is painted in a way that is meant to humiliate these characters to others in and out of universe.

How is this sexually positive? How is this an appropriate way to portray your “villains”, by painting them negatively and embarrassing them through their sexual encounters?

The worst part is that they’ve used these sexually degrading scenes specifically to “humble” a rape victim and child bride. Humbling her because they believe that she is power hungry and desperate for the throne and so she uses and betrays Viserys and Rhaenyra. And aside from that being a major mischaracterization (Alicent didn’t want the throne as a teenage girl forced to marry the king, and she doesn’t betray Viserys and Rhaenyra out of personal ambition but protection for her family), you know who that description fits? DAEMON TARGARYEN.

Daemon wanted the throne more than anything. Groomed his teenage niece to have a chance to marry her to get closer to the title of king. Betrayed, humiliated, and hurt his brother and niece wife to make himself a better candidate as heir. Choked his niece wife when she didn’t listen to him. And consistently asserted himself as king, a position to be viewed as higher than his wife the queen.

And similar to Alicent, he was “humbled” this season. But how was he humbled? By having private visions that are unknown to (almost) everyone. And these visions are mostly just him being shown the people he hurt in the process of seeking his power. Except for the one with his mother, which is sexually inclined, but not presented in the same depraved and humiliating way that the scenes with Alicent or any of team green are.

This whole show just has such a gross way of depicting the people they see as villains. And it shows how hypocritical their messaging is. HOTD is not a feminist, sex positive show. It’s far too obsessed with sexual violence and humiliation against people they dislike to be one. This show believes that sexual positivity and liberty is good. But only for those who deserve it. That it’s not a right but rather a privilege. And anyone they deem as immoral, evil, bad, or “unfeminist” doesn’t deserve it. They deserve to be ridiculed, humiliated, and humbled by their failures as people. And I can’t stand it.

This show isn’t sex positive and feminist. It’s Rhaenyra positive. That’s it.

#this show is gross for its outlook #and the fact that they punish their characters sexually #house of the dragon #game of thrones #team green #anti team black #anti rhaenyra #anti rhaenyra targaryen #anti daemon #anti daemon targaryen #alicent hightower #pro alicent hightower #aegon ii targaryen #pro aegon ii targaryen #criston cole #pro criston cole #aemond targaryen #pro aemond targaryen #larys strong

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mistywaves98 · 5 months ago

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Can I... Can I req for Widow! Reader who's trying dick for the first time after a while and it's Neighbor! Scara... Who's absolutely obsessed with reader ⁄⁠(⁠⁄⁠ ⁠⁄⁠•⁠⁄⁠-⁠⁄⁠•⁠⁄⁠ ⁠⁄⁠)⁠⁄ thank u

– 🦭

Now this has potential... Hope you all didn't mind me making it with milf! Reader 😶‍🌫️

✧･ﾟ:* ->Neighbour! Scaramouche x Milf! Reader

✧･ﾟ:* ->¡Warnings!: NSFW, Age gap (Scara is in his late 20s while reader is in her 30s-40s), Talks abt Breeding, Petnames, Breeding kink, Did I mention breeding?

After your husband died, you never really had time to seek companionship and intimacy elsewhere. Being a single mom with two children to raise kept your hands full. Luckily you had very supportive family and neighbours who helped you through tough times. Of those people happened to be your eager, next door neighbour, Scaramouche.

He was especially helpful, sticking around a lot to help you with household chores as well as your kids. It was like he was your new husband, he joked occasionally and you found it rather humorous too, but you didn't really think much of it considering the age difference between you two. Now your children are grown and have jobs that keep them busy, meaning that you're usually left alone at home. It was a peaceful break, but you couldn't deny that it was lonely sometimes.

To your surprise, Scaramouche still frequents your abode and even revealed to you that he doesn't have a significant other yet. It shocked you even more, considering that you imagined a handsome young man like himself would have ladies flocking him and that's what you told him. He merely laughed and said that the reason he's still single is because there's this one particular woman he's been eyeing for a while. This made you curious so you inquired about her identity, which made him smirk in a slightly eerie way as he walked up to you and leaned down to whisper into your ear,"It's you."

One thing lead to another and the next thing you know you're both buried amongst the covers of your bed, with you getting your ass plowed into next week. Moans and soft pleas fall from your lips as you desperately grasp the pillow which half your face is buried in. Scaramouche keeps a firm grip on your hips, angling them up so that he can stuff his cock into your at a frantic pace. You can feel his balls slapping against your cunt with every thrust, making your eyes roll back as you wail.

It all feels so, so good. Your mind is a hazy mess with only thoughts of him and his fat fucking dick. Every time his tip meets that spongy spot inside of you, you feel like you're seeing stars as drool runs down your chin. When was the last time you ever got your guts rearranged like this? In fact, when was the last time you even felt the touch of a man?? Those questions were swept away in the flurry of pleasure brought by Scaramouche's cock sliding in and out of your pussy with a wet squelch, your body rocking back and forth with the force.

He relished the sight under him, your sweaty body splayed out so prettily for him as he brought you to new heights. "Damn... You're so fucking tight for someone who's already had children.. When last has this pussy been used? 'Cuz it's sucking in my cock like it never wants to let it go, honey..." He grinned as you responded with nothing but incoherent babbles, too dumbed down to even form a proper sentence.

Scaramouche brought one of his hands down to grab your breast, fondling the mound and squeezing before tweaking your nipple between the pads of his thumb and index. That action elicits a hiss out of him as he feels you clench down harder around him, making him let out a breathy chuckle,"Haah... You liked that, didn't you? ...What if I gave you another child, huh? —Fuck—! Seems like you enjoy the thought, letting me fuck another baby into you..."

He'd be lying if he said the thought wasn't enticing, getting to raise a child with you that's his own... It was something he'd been dreaming of for the longest while. You weren't sure if you could still have children, but Scaramouche would at least attempt to make it happen. Even if it meant pumping you full of his cum till your belly bloats from the amount he's emptied into you. It drives him to go a bit faster, his cock reaching deep as your walls spasm around him.

Suddenly you mumble something and he has to strain his ears to hear it amongst all the other 'noises',"—um... Cu—mming...!!" His pupils dilate as he hears that, eager to feel you gush around his cock. The hand kneading your breast moves down to pinch your clit, the other keeping a death grip on your hip. The sensation sends a jolt up your body, a groan escaping you as you cum. The feeling of your pussy creaming around his dick makes Scaramouche curse as he feels his own orgasm washing over him.

His hands give your breasts one final squeeze as he cums inside of you, painting your walls white with his seed. After giving his cock a couple thrusts for good measure, he finally pulls out with a wet sound before laying next to you. He holds you close, wrapping an arm around your trembling body as he buries his face in your neck. You can feel his cum trickle down your thighs, soiling the bedsheets and Scaramouche notices it too.

He's quick to plug up your swollen pussy with two fingers, making you inhale sharply as his fingers push his essence back in. Not much words are exchanged, the both of you being too spent to say much, but one thing's for sure... He really hopes you get pregnant.

#smut #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #x reader smut #genshin impact x reader smut #genshin impact #✧･ﾟ:* meena's memos! ✧･ﾟ:*#scaramouche smut #scara smut #scara x reader smut #scaramouche x reader smut

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oddinary4bts · 7 months ago

Text

Chasing Cars | ch 2 (jjk)

☆summary: when your brother goes to study on a semester abroad, your life collides with his best friend Jeon Jungkook, who's coincidentally your roommate. Will you survive the collision, or will you crumble into dust?

☆pairings: brother's best friend!Jungkook x younger sister!female reader, Hoseok x female!reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, this chapter contains mature content)

☆genre: forbidden love?au, college!au, slice of life!au, smut, angst (as usual a lot of it), fluff

☆warnings: mentions of The Incident, Jungkook is a menace. curses, mentions of a character getting cheated on, alcohol, mentions of ghosting, explicit content: sex toy (vibrator), they do it in a public space (an empty lab), degradation, sir, thigh grinding, dom!Hobi, he's a bit of a dick, pussy slapping, breast/nipple play, jerking off, praise, fingering, ass slapping, protected sex, anal fingering, mentions of mouth fucking, masturbation (female and male), OC has some dirty little fantasies about her older brother's best friend, squirting, she overhears Jungkook watching porn

☆word count: 10.2k

☆a/n: new week new chapter!! enjoy reading everyone <3 thank you to @moonleeai and @jessikahathaway for beta-ing, you guys are the best <3

☆series masterpost

☆add yourself to the taglist here!

☆☆☆☆☆

If I lay here If I just lay here Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol

☆☆☆☆☆

Sunday, January 20th

You wake up with a start, heart beating out of your chest. It takes you a moment to collect yourself until you realize that you were actually woken up by a sound. It takes you a moment longer before you understand that the sound is Jungkook cursing.

You frown, glancing towards his wall in the hopes that he’ll shut up, and it’s almost like he hears you: he dwindles into silence after a few seconds, and you’re stuck wondering why he was cursing like that in the first place. You don’t think you’ll have the answer anytime soon, so you lie back down – when did you even sit up?

You shut your eyes, though it seems sleep will evade you again. Indeed, your focus is zeroed in on the sounds coming from Jungkook’s room, probably of him getting ready for work. It also makes you realize that you really do need to go to the bathroom, so you decide to head there before actually going back to sleep.

You get out of the bathroom in time with Jungkook getting out of his room, and he stops in the doorway, eyes widening as he watches you across the living room. You’re only wearing an oversized sweater, and you don’t miss the way his gaze dips to your legs once before returning to your face.

Only then does he break into a smirk, leaning against the door as he folds his arms on his chest. “Long night?” he asks teasingly.

You know you’ve flushed red when he chuckles darkly. “Not really, no,” you choke out.

“You’re cute when you blush, peach,” he jokes, glancing towards your room. “He’s still in there?”

You don’t know if it’s because of the way your face falls, but Jungkook’s smirk dies down, concern moving on his features instead. You hate it, so you quickly say, “He left last night, you didn’t hear?”

His tongue plays with his piercing for a moment. “Not gonna lie, I put earbuds in the moment I started hearing you guys.”

Your blush deepens, and you’d facepalm if the gesture in and of itself wasn’t so embarrassing. Instead, you look away from him, glancing at the front door as you replay Hoseok leaving in your mind. “Sorry,” you apologize.

You don’t even know what for. Your goal was to make Jungkook uncomfortable, so why do you feel like shit now that he’s talking to you about it?

“It’s fine,” he says, pushing up from the door frame as he walks towards the kitchen. “Though I didn’t think you were like that, peach.”

You furrow your brows, and you can’t help but follow him into the kitchen. “What do you mean?”

He’s got his head in the fridge, and he straightens, holding a protein shake in his hands. He takes a sip of it, eyes finding yours, before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he kicks the fridge door shut.

“Paper-thin walls, remember?”

You purse your lips, cocking your head to the side. “Thought you said you put earbuds on?”

His tongue pokes his cheek, and he looks away from you, chuckling in disbelief. When he remains silent, you spy his ear turning pink, and you hold in a smirk.

“I did,” he says. “A little too late.”

“Are you saying you listened to us?” you let out, gasping in fake outrage.

“Peach.” His doe eyes slide back to you, and they pierce right into your soul as your gazes connect. “I know you’ve been listening to me. If you were just trying to make me jealous, you can say so.”

Your mouth falls open, and every word in the dictionary flies out the window as you just stare at him, embarrassment slowly creeping in. Very slowly, its fingers licking up your spine until they’re clutching your heart.

“Why would I want to make you jealous?” you ask, voice suddenly far less confident and a lot smaller.

He takes another sip. “You tell me.”

You don’t know what to tell him. All that you know is that you wish last night never happened, and you wish Jungkook would stop looking at you. He looks effortlessly good, even so early in the morning, and really, it’s unfair.

Unfair that you’re stuck living with him for months without Taehyung being here.

When he understands that you’re not going to say anything else, Jungkook shrugs, glancing at the time on his phone. He meets your startled gaze again, before saying, “I have to head to work.” He pauses, tongue playing with his piercing and then continues, “If you don’t want me having sex here, it’d be fair if you didn’t have it either.”

You nod once, and when he walks towards you, you quickly step out of the way. It makes him laugh and he stops right in front of you, head tilted down. His hair isn’t styled back this morning, and it falls in his eyes, hiding their innocence from you.

Because, for some reason, you’ve always thought he has innocent eyes. You know better than to think his soul is innocent, though.

“Unless you’d like me to keep doing it?” he asks, voice low and husky. It makes your spine tingle, especially as he adds, “You sure sounded like you liked it last time.”

So he was aware of the Incident. You flush furiously crimson, and you refuse to meet his gaze. But when one of his fingers touches your chin ever so lightly to make you tilt your head back, you’re too weak to resist.

“Don’t be embarrassed, peach,” he purrs. “I was pretty turned on myself last night.”

Your lips part as your gaze meets his, and you don’t miss the way his eyes dart to your mouth once.

“I won’t do it again,” you say, voice shaking a little.

It clearly isn’t what Jungkook wanted you to say because he frowns, taking a step away from you. If he’s aware that he’s got your heart racing in your chest, he doesn’t let it show.

“Noted,” he answers curtly, and he walks out of the kitchen without saying anything else.

You don’t move, a trembling hand going over your chest as if it’ll calm down the beats of your heart. Evidently, it doesn’t do anything, and you listen to Jungkook as he puts a coat on, before going out the door.

You think you weren’t breathing until the front door shuts behind him, and even then, you’re not sure you’re breathing at all. It takes everything in you to be able to walk back to your room, and you sit on your bed, eyes darting to your phone.

The screen is lit up, and you quickly grab it to see you received a couple of texts while you were sleeping, and another one just now. That last one is from Hoseok, and you immediately open the notification to see what he sent.

[9:02 am] Hobi: hey, sorry for last night. I feel like a dick for leaving like that.. any chance I can make it up to u today?

You purse your lips, right as relief washes through you. Because no matter how much you agree with the fact that you two shouldn’t do feelings, his leaving so quickly made you feel used. It’s also a good distraction from what just happened with Jungkook, which you reckon you need.

[9:04 am] You: no worries I get it. What do u wanna do

You turn off your phone, grabbing your clothes to take a quick shower. Mostly because you don’t want to text him too quickly, but also because you haven’t showered since before the party yesterday, and you usually always shower before going to bed.

You comb your hair when you get out of the shower, wrapping it in a clean towel before heading back to your room. Even then, you don’t touch your phone, instead busying yourself with putting your dirty clothes away in a hamper. You plop down on your bed, thoughts going back to the conversation with Jungkook, and you feel a coil tightening at the bottom of your stomach.

Because you’re only now realizing that he was hitting on you. He was clearly hitting on you, in his own sick and twisted way. And the worst part is, just thinking about it makes you feel turned on…

You can’t wait for Taehyung to be back from his semester abroad.

Thursday, January 24th

Your biochemistry class is boring. Nabi is dozing off next to you, and you took a couple of pictures already that you shared in the group chat you now have.

Indeed, you ended up hanging out with Hoseok, Namjoon, Yoongi, Nabi and Ria on Sunday morning, getting brunch together, and for convenience Hoseok created a group chat.

It’s been lively since then, with everyone sending their share of memes and funny pictures. Except Yoongi – Yoongi seems like he’s a ghost in the conversation, except for the laughing reacts that he’s put on some of the memes. The picture of Nabi quickly gains you a lot of laughing emojis, and Namjoon sends,

[11:24 am] Joonie: Yah she should pay attention if she wants good grades!

You laugh-react to Namjoon’s message but don’t say anything, though you know that Nabi is going to have to talk about it for the next fifty days. You then try to focus on the class, watching the minutes go by on the clock by the door more than anything. You’re struggling to stay awake, eyes heavy with sleep, but you manage to make it through the end of class without fully falling asleep. When the professor finally dismisses the class, you shake Nabi awake, laughing as you notice she’s drooled on the desk.

“Gosh,” you say, pointing at it. “Who were you dreaming of?”

Nabi blinks, a little confused, but her cheeks still turn red. “No one.”

You gather your things as you get up, throwing her a no-bullshit look. She ignores you, shrugging her shoulders like the little angel that she is, and then you make your way to the cafeteria, Nabi in tow. You meet with Ria, who’s finished her classes for the day – you’re unlucky, you still have another one in the afternoon. You sit together, chatting about everything and nothing, the conversation slowly inching towards Namjoon. You’re not surprised, and you tune it out as you work on a lab report.

“Hobi!” Ria yells happily, motioning at someone.

As much as you and Hoseok decided to be friends, you still feel a little awkward as he makes his way towards you, sitting next to Nabi across from you. “How are you girls doing?” he asks, but his eyes linger on you.

“Fantastic,” Nabi answers. “Though, not looking forward to the genetics class this afternoon.”

“Come on.” Hoseok laughs, shaking his head. “That’s the easiest class of the first year.”

“Still boring,” Nabi counters. “I don’t know how I’ll stay awake.”

“Bitch,” you let out, chuckling. “You were sleeping all morning.”

She shrugs her shoulders innocently, like she had in the class a moment ago. “Didn’t sleep last night.”

Hoseok looks down at the table, a knowing look painting his features, and Ria narrows her gaze at Nabi.

“Why?” she asks. “You left the library before Y/n and I did.”

Nabi purses her lips, cheeks tinting pink. Hoseok still sports the knowing smirk, and you furrow your brows.

Did something happen between them?

“I just couldn’t sleep,” Nabi answers carefully.

At that, Hoseok snorts, finally looking towards her. “I know someone else that couldn’t sleep last night.”

Now, Nabi turns crimson.

“Did something happen between you guys?” you blurt.

Hoseok looks startled, and Nabi bursts out laughing. “What the fuck?” she says.

“Namjoon was speaking to someone on the phone all night.”

Hoseok’s input has your eyes widen, quite at the same time as Ria replies, “His girlfriend, I presume?”

It is disapproving, and awkwardness fills the space between you all. Nabi’s eyes drop to the table, ashamed. “I mean… he was just helping with some homework.”

Ria scoffs. “So that’s what you do when I’m not at the dorm?”

Indeed, Ria ended up coming over to your place, mostly because she didn’t want you to walk home alone so late after your trip to the library. She slept in Taehyung’s bed and went home right when you woke up to shower and change before her class.

“It was nothing!” Nabi insists. “Just talking.”

Ria rolls her eyes, before getting up and grabbing her stuff. “Whatever.”

She storms away, and you look at her disappearing form, gaze wide, before looking back at Nabi and Hoseok. Hoseok looks like he wishes to disappear through the floor, and Nabi is rubbing a hand on her forehead.

You know exactly what happened. Ria was cheated on in her last relationship, and needless to say, it’s fucked her up a little.

“Just talking?” you repeat.

Nabi meets your gaze, clearly looking for salvation. “I promise, nothing happened.”

Hoseok clears his throat, and both of you look towards him. “Namjoon and his girlfriend broke up last weekend.”

Nabi looks far more surprised than you, if that’s possible. Clearly, Namjoon didn’t tell her.

“They did?”

Hoseok nods, sparing you a glance before he continues, “It’s been a long time coming. They’ve been long distance for over a year, and… yeah.”

“Oh,” Nabi voices. Her eyes drop to the table, where her half-eaten salad is still waiting for her. “I should find Ria and tell her.”

She nods once as if she needs to convince herself, and then she quickly puts her stuff away. It dawns on you that you’re soon going to be left alone with Hoseok, and you try to meet Nabi’s gaze, try to find an excuse as to why you should go with her. But you reckon she and Ria probably need to speak about it without you, for the sake of their friendship.

Nabi waves goodbye when she’s done picking up her stuff, and then she’s walking away, following in Ria’s previous footsteps until she’s out of the cafeteria.

There’s a moment of awkward silence, and you focus on your laptop screen as if it’s going to help, but it offers no salvation. Especially not as Hoseok is looking at you over the screen, eyes going a little dark as his features turn somber.

You gulp before meeting his gaze. “What’s up?”

He wets his lips, glancing at the seats vacated by your friends. “Sorry about that.”

“Oh,” you let out. “It’s okay, it’s whatever.”

He nods once, and as your attention returns to your computer, he fishes a sandwich out of his tote bag. He starts eating, and you fear the heavy silence is going to make you crazy, especially as you can feel his eyes on you while you type away.

“Everything okay?” you ask, refusing to meet his gaze.

“Want to skip genetics?” he answers, voice lower than you expected it to be.

For a reason unknown, it has your insides turning white hot.

“I shouldn’t.”

He chuckles, shrugging his shoulders. “Suit yourself.”

You entirely thought he was going to argue, so you can’t help but furrow your brows as you meet his gaze. “What?”

He sits back, tilting his head to the side as he surveys you. As he remains silent, you feel yourself heating up even more. The danger in his eyes is enticing, and you reckon you probably have enough time before class to find a quiet place around campus.

“The class is in forty-five minutes,” you innocently say.

Hoseok grins. “Plenty of time, don’t you think?”

“I haven’t eaten,” you admit, pursing your lips.

“If you sit at the back of the class, no one will care if you eat.”

You know he’s right. And mostly, you know he doesn’t even need to convince you. You’ve been hot and bothered since last Saturday, as you’ve been too scared to use your vibrator again after you realized Jungkook heard you.

So when Hoseok admits he’s got the keys to one of the labs, you don’t hesitate before putting your computer away, following him as he leads the way.

“I’ve never…” you start, and then you laugh awkwardly.

By the time Hoseok says, “You’ve never what?”, you’re out of the cafeteria.

“Never done anything on campus.”

He winks at you. “Glad to know I’ll be the first.”

It makes you roll your eyes as a smile tugs at the corners of your lips, but you don’t say anything as he guides you to the elevator. Another student is already waiting in front of it, and she grins at Hoseok as he stops next to her.

“Hoba!” she lets out. “I thought you had the day off today.”

He loosely hugs her before replying. “Yeah, had to come to hand an essay to Professor Evans.”

The girl glances at you. You barely recognize her, though you’re pretty sure you’ve seen her at some parties. She greets you, and you offer her a smile before she turns to Hoseok and they strike up a conversation about said essay.

She’s someone from his class, apparently, and they chat for the whole elevator ride until she exits to head wherever it is that she is going. It leaves you alone with Hoseok, and it takes all of one second before the air fills with tension again, especially as his hand brushes yours.

“Sorry about that,” he apologizes, voice low.

You wet your lips, meeting his dark gaze. “No worries,” you reply.

He nods, and to your surprise, he pushes a strand of your hair behind your ear. It makes you freeze in place, as his fingers linger on your cheek. His gaze drops to your lips, and if it wasn’t for the elevator dinging, the doors sliding open, you’re convinced he would have kissed you then and there.

Instead, his hand falls to the side, and he struts out of the elevator. You quickly follow him before the doors have time to close, and it takes about another minute before you finally reach the lab.

Hoseok glances around, making sure the hallway is empty before he unlocks the door. He pushes it open for you to walk in, and you enter the cool darkness, eyes sighing in relief.

Indeed, for some reason, you’ve always found the neon lights of the hallway to be too aggressive for your eyes.

The lab is dark, the only light being the one from behind the closed blinds. The door doesn’t have a window, and Hoseok closes it behind him, quickly locking it again. You scan your surroundings – there’s an area with white coats to your left, and to your right there are empty shelves where you imagine students leave their bags when they have a class in this lab. You drop your stuff there, before turning towards Hoseok again.

“Aren’t there cameras in here?” you ask.

He walks towards you, towering over you as he puts his tote bag next to your stuff. “The one that is supposed to film the white coats is dead,” he informs you.

You gulp as one of his long fingers finds your chin. He tilts your head back, before leaning in to press his lips against yours once. He barely kisses you, lips ghosting on your jaw before he aims for your neck. You tilt your head to the side, breath hitching in your throat, but he stills next to your ear.

“How do you know?” you ask breathlessly.

You think you can hear the smirk in his voice when he replies, “Seokjin got in trouble once right here. Someone saw him and his girlfriend come in, but they couldn’t see anything on the cameras so they let him go.”

He lightly tugs at your earlobe. “They haven’t changed the camera since then?”

“No,” Hoseok says, slightly shaking his head. “Or if they have, whoever is behind the security desk has had a couple of shows through the months.”

You let out a breathy sound as he sucks a spot underneath your ear. “Are you saying you’ve fucked some girls here?”

“Maybe?” He pauses to leave a trail of wet kisses down your neck, down to the collar of your shirt. “Is that a problem?”

Not at all. In truth, you don’t give a shit if he’s been with other people. You would assume he was – he’s an attractive man after all. If you were into him for more than just sex, maybe you’d be insulted, but right now, all you can think about is that he’s about to fuck you senseless.

“No,” you finally reply.

His teeth pull at your shirt, and then he straightens. “Come.”

You let him grab your hand, and he pulls you to where the white coats are. He pushes you into a corner, glancing behind him. You can see the camera over his shoulder, and you can only hope that it is indeed dead, because he pushes his knee between your legs as he faces you again.

“You’re such a slut,” he says against your lips. Your eyes close from the sudden proximity, and you await his next words as your insides burn. “Wanting me to fuck you here, where anyone could come in.”

You’d tell him he’s the slut, considering he’s the one that brought you here, but all you can do is grab at his shoulders when he sucks on your lower lip. You moan as his knee pushes further between your legs, thigh pressing against your pussy, and you instinctively grind, looking for some friction on your clit.

Hoseok chuckles darkly, and he straightens again.

“So fucking desperate.” He tuts, shaking his head in disapproval. “Should I punish you some more?”

Your mouth is parted as you breathe in and out quickly, eyes a little round. “Why?”

“Have you learned your lesson last weekend?”

You gulp, nodding once.

“Have you?”

“Yes.”

He cocks an eyebrow, clearly waiting for more.

“Yes, sir.”

He smirks, stealing a sudden heated kiss on your lips. You moan as his hands grab at your hips, forcing you to grind on his thigh again. Your fingers dig into his shoulders, pulling him closer, and you feel yourself go weak in the knees as he keeps you going.

“Wait,” you breathe after a moment of you fucking his thigh. He pulls away from where he buried his face in your neck, questions in his eyes. “It hurts with the fabric…” you trail off as he once again cocks an eyebrow.

“And? You think you’ve been good enough for me to take off your clothes?”

“Hobi,” you whine, and he smirks before kissing you again.

He removes his leg from between yours, hands staying on your hips. Yours move from his shoulders to the back of his neck so you can pull him closer, and he pushes you against the wall. He grunts in the kiss when you suck on his tongue, and his fingers find a home over your clothes, right against your pussy. He slaps it, hard, and you moan when his other hand sneaks under your shirt, cupping your breast through your bra.

“What do you want?” he asks.

“Please fuck me.”

He chuckles, nodding his head. “Oh, I’ll fuck you good. You won’t be able to walk to your class after.”

That only turns you on even more, and you think you’re melted lava now, burning bright red as you bubble away under Hoseok’s heated touch. Getting tired of the fabric of your bra, he pushes it up, until your breasts are free and he’s able to pinch your nipple, hard.

You moan, and he pushes his tongue in your mouth, finding yours as he laps at you.

You’re soaking your panties. At this point, you’re convinced you’re also soaking through your pants, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Hoseok has always been able to make you do whatever it is that he wants, and you don’t think it’ll ever change. Last weekend was proof enough of that.

“Take off your pants,” he commands as he steps back.

Your arms fall aimlessly to your side, but you’re quick to comply, unbuttoning your pants as Hoseok busies himself with his belt. He’s quicker than you, hands steadier than yours, and he’s freed his cock from his pants before you have time to push your pants down your legs. He strokes himself under your watchful gaze, head cocked to the side.

“I’m so fucking hard for you,” he comments, and he sounds a little surprised.

As if he didn’t expect the little action between you two to have been enough for him to get there. You reckon you aren’t surprised, especially not as you feel how wet you are once your pants and underwear are off.

The cool air of the lab makes you shiver, but Hoseok barely gives you time to realize it before he pushes a hand between your legs, collecting your juices at your entrance before bringing his fingers to your mouth.

“Taste yourself.”

You obey, and you wrap your lips around his two digits, tongue flicking at the pads. He’s still stroking his dick and, as much as you want to look down, you’re a prisoner of his gaze. All you can do is suck his fingers, hollowing your cheeks as you swirl your tongue around them.

“Good girl,” he says once he’s retrieved his fingers from your mouth.

He lets go of his dick as he searches through his pocket for his wallet. He takes it out, finding a condom. He rips the package as your hand wraps around the tip of his cock, thumb smearing the precum all around the head. He hisses but lets you do it, especially as you start stroking him, trying to copy his previous motions.

You jerk him off for a moment, and he pushes your shirt up enough so that he’s able to wrap his lips around your nipple, sucking hard. It’s your turn to hiss, though his tongue soothes the sting as he swirls it around your nipple before he moves to your other breast.

You rest your head against the wall, trying to focus on jerking him off, but when he dips two fingers in you, arching them to rub at the sweet spot inside of you, you grip him tight.

“Fuck,” he curses as he pulls away, and his fingers leave you empty. They move to retrieve the condom from the package, and he’s quick to roll it on his dick. “Turn around,” he orders.

You bite at your lip, nodding once before you do so. He grabs your hips and pulls them back before he pushes on your upper back until you’re bent, one arm resting against a shelf you find under the white coats.

Hoseok teases your entrance with his fingers again before slipping them in. He finger-fucks you for a while, adding scissoring motions to spread you wide open as you pant from the ministrations. You know he’s getting you ready for his cock, even though you reckon it’s useless.

Indeed, you’re soaked, the perspective of fucking in a public space having made you hornier than you usually are. Indeed, you think you’re already close, especially as he pushes in and out quickly, fingers rubbing you expertly.

You clench around him, and he smacks your ass with one hand. “You like that?”

“Fuck me,” you whine again, begging more than anything.

“Yes, baby,” he says as he massages your ass. “I’m going to fuck you good.”

His fingers leave you empty, and he holds your hips as he aligns himself with your entrance. His cock rubs against your clit, making you see stars before he finally pushes in. He stops with just the tip in, landing another hard slap to your ass.

The sting makes you move back, and you impale yourself on him until his dick reaches deep inside of you, splitting you wide open. He grunts, fingers digging into the supple skin of your hip, and you moan as he hits the bottom of your pussy.

“Fuck,” he curses. “You want to fuck yourself on me, mmh?”

You don’t reply, instead moving forward before pushing back again. He groans again, but then he holds you in place. When you understand that he wants you to stop, you still, glancing at him. He meets your gaze as one of his hands moves to his mouth, and he spits on his fingers.

You grab the side of the shelf hard, knuckles turning white, as he spreads your ass cheeks open, and he smears his spit on your asshole.

He’s still holding your gaze, and as you say nothing, he pushes his thumb in your ass. It hurts a little, and your eyes flutter shut as you focus on the feeling.

“Safe word?”

You shake your head no, and Hoseok doesn’t need more to start pounding into you, so hard you can’t help the loud moan that falls from your lips. You clench your walls around him, hard, and he takes that as a cue to bring his other hand to your clit. He rubs it with a consistent rhythm that’s making your legs tremble, though he’s pressing a little too hard. You know he’ll get you oversensitive in no time, so you pinch one of your nipples, focusing on that pain to remain afloat.

That’s where your orgasm finds you, a little under a minute later. Crashing against you, you moan a broken sound that probably would have been his name, and the waves of your orgasm wash over you as he keeps fucking you, fingers never faltering on your clit.

As soon as you’re down from the high, you pull his hand away from your clit. “Too sensitive,” you mutter.

He slaps your ass but says nothing as he increases the pace of his thrusts, chasing his own orgasm. It hits him as you clench your walls around him voluntarily, and he grunts loudly as he comes, dick twitching deep inside of you.

For a moment, all that fills the air is the sound of your ragged breaths, and it takes you both a while before you’re back in your bodies, coming down from the high of sex. Hoseok pulls out of you, both his dick and his thumb, and he discards the condom, tying it tightly. You put your clothes back on, shakily, as you’re still reeling from the oversensitivity. You run your hands through your hair, making sure it’s not too much of a mess before facing him.

“Damn,” you say once you’re both standing straight, gaze meeting.

Hoseok laughs. “Yeah.”

“Now I have a class to run to.”

He nods. “You do. You think you’ll be okay?”

The way he says it is cocky, and for some reason, it makes you want him again. He must have noticed, because he smirks, tilting his head to the side.

“I’ll be fine,” you say. “We should…”

“Hang out again?” he supplies as you fall silent.

You nod once. “Sometime this weekend?”

He thinks about it for a time before shaking his head no. “I’m going to visit my parents this weekend so…” he trails off.

“Oh,” you let out, shrugging your shoulders. “Just… text me?”

“In the group chat or…” he teases, and you push him as you roll your eyes. It makes him laugh, yet he still pulls you in, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Yes, I’ll text you.”

You move out of his embrace, a little embarrassed. “Good.”

He smiles, gently, and it’s so far from what he was just a moment ago, pounding into you, that you think you get whiplash.

Jeong Hoseok has a duality you don’t think you’ll ever understand. And really, it leaves you confused all through your genetics class. Nabi never shows up, which you actually are glad for. Because you’re pretty sure she would have taken one look at you and known you’ve just fucked, and you don’t think you’d be ready to deal with the questioning.

You’ve barely told them about what happened between you and Hoseok last weekend. You don’t see yourself admitting that you’re sleeping with him again. You’re just content with enjoying the friend group, and you don’t want to make things awkward for everyone else. So you’ve been keeping it to yourself, and perhaps that’s why you’ve been feeling so confused.

As you sit in the library later, trying to finish your lab report, you spy Jungkook shelving some books. He doesn’t see you or pretends he hasn’t seen you, and that, most of all, makes you realize one thing.

Hoseok isn’t the one that’s been confusing you at all. It’s been Jungkook, and what he said on Sunday morning, that’s been plaguing your every moment.

No wonder you haven’t said anything to your friends.

Wednesday, February 6th

You hate midterms. They stress you out, obviously, but also the irregular hours make it hard for you to sleep at night, and even harder to follow in your classes. It’s no wonder you end up skipping your afternoon class, heading home to take a well-deserved nap before you study more. Nabi promised to send her notes, considering you’ve sent her the notes of that genetics class she missed a few weeks ago.

It’s a good deal, and you sleep like a rock the moment you get home, face hidden in your pillow. The only downside of taking a nap is, you always feel worse when you wake up. It takes a while for you to shake the grogginess away, so when you wake up around 3:45 pm, you know you’re not going to be able to study right away. Instead, you head to the kitchen, reheating some leftover noodles you find in the fridge.

You’re halfway through your bowl when your phone rings, startling you. You glance at the screen – it’s Taehyung, on a Facetime call at that. Your heart leaps in your chest; you haven’t talked to him since he left, a month ago, except for some texting here and there to make sure that everything was okay.

You pick up the call, and it takes a few seconds before it connects, and your brother’s dumb face appears on the screen. He looks as if he’s lying in bed, or on a couch perhaps. He smiles as soon as he sees you, and you wish you could hug him through the screen.

“Hey!” he says. “How’s America going?”

“It’s cold,” you complain. “Not as great as Paris I assume.”

Taehyung laughs. “Paris is a dream, honestly. You’d love it here.”

“Duh.” You smile wide, slightly shaking your head. “I still can’t believe you just get to spend a whole semester over there.”

“You can if you want to! I’m sure your major also allows it.”

As much as it’d be fun, you don’t think Paris would be your destination. There are a couple of other places in the world that are higher up on your list, though you don’t know if you’d want to study in those places. You’re afraid it’d take the magic away, as you’ve always been too focused on your studies.

Taehyung has never been like this, so you know he’s been enjoying his time over there. And he has – he visited the Louvres last weekend, and he’s eaten so many croissants he’s convinced he’s going to get a French accent soon.

At that, you laugh, before telling him about your time here. Omitting Hoseok, obviously, but mostly omitting how Jungkook has been not so subtly flirting with you. To be fair, you’re pretty sure he was flirting with you before Taehyung left, but he’s been far bolder now. You know the blame is partly on you – after the Incident, and the revelation that he knows about it, you can see why a guy like Jungkook would be attracted.

He told you himself that he was turned on when you were with Hoseok, didn’t he?

“Hello,” Taehyung says. “Are you even listening to me?”

You shake out of your thoughts, apologizing. “Midterms have been fucking with me.”

“Oof,” Taehyung lets out. “I’m lucky my grades here don’t count in my GPA.” He winces, glancing away from the screen before resuming his attention on you. “I think I’m going to tank one of the classes.”

“RIP.”

Before you or your brother have time to say anything else, the front door unlocks. Your eyes snap to it from where you’re sitting on the couch, and Jungkook comes into view, hair ruffled by the wind outside. He catches sight of you, offering you a corner smile that makes you want to roll your eyes as your gaze settles back on your brother.

“Is Jungkook home?” Taehyung asks, loud enough for the mentioned man to look your way.

“Tae!” he lets out enthusiastically, and he kicks his boots off to make his way to your side.

You want to disappear when he sits next to you, close enough for his thigh to press against yours. He’s still clad in his coat, and you cringe at how cold it is as he leans even closer, his face appearing on your phone. “How’s Paris been going?”

“Bro, it’s fucking sick,” Taehyung answers. “They know how to party here.”

Jungkook smirks. “Any good fucks?”

Your head snaps towards Jungkook. “Bruh, why would you ask him that?”

Taehyung laughs, ignoring you. “I’ve been seeing this girl,” he admits. “Haven’t fucked yet but I’d say it’s coming.”

You wince, nose scrunching up in disgust. “Come on, I don’t want to hear about your sex life, Tae.”

“You’re a big girl now, get used to it,” Jungkook jokes.

You glare at him again, and when your eyes move back to Taehyung’s face, he’s got his brows furrowed. You don’t know why, and the expression melts to be replaced by his usual impassive mask, the one you know he uses when he’s trying to not let his emotions show on his face.

“Well, I’ve been dating her, I’m pretty sure I can tell you I’ve been going on dates?” he says, and it sounds like a question.

You narrow your eyes at him. “Kim Taehyung, why are you starting to date someone in Paris? You’re not going to do long distance.”

“She’s from our college too, chill,” he answers, rolling his eyes at you. “She’s in the exchange program.”

That gains your interest, and a smile moves on your lips. “Oh?”

“Oh?” Taehyung echoes.

“Who is she?”

He offers you a secretive smile. “Not telling before things are official.”

Taking you by surprise, Jungkook grabs your phone out of your hands. The sudden contact of his fingers on yours feels electrifying, even though it lasts just a fraction of a second before it’s gone.

“Hey!” you burst out.

“I’m sure you can tell your best friend,” Jungkook says, holding your phone out of your reach, filming his face.

“Jungkook, give me my phone!”

You can hear Taehyung laughing on his side of the line as Jungkook looks at you. “Nah.”

You sit back on the couch, folding your arms on your chest. You clench your jaw, annoyance moving through you, but you don’t say anything else as Taehyung insists that he’d rather wait before telling you. Jungkook, resolute, asks the question again, and you elbow him in the ribs.

“Ow!” he lets out. “What the fuck was that for?”

You roll your eyes. “Give me my phone.” He looks up at the ceiling in annoyance, before handing you the device. “Thank you,” you say sarcastically.

“Just wanted to get you your answer,” he replies, shrugging his shoulders. “But never mind.”

At that he gets up, sauntering away while taking off his coat. You watch him go, far too confused, but Taehyung doesn’t let you think about it for too long. Instead, he says he’s got to go, but that he’s glad you two talked. You tell him to be safe, and then you hang up.

The sudden silence in the living room makes you glance towards the kitchen as you hear Jungkook rummaging in the refrigerator. It takes all but five seconds for him to yell, “Hey, are you eating my noodles?”

Your gaze widens as it falls on the noodles you’ve been eating, forgotten on the coffee table. You were convinced they were yours earlier, but now that Jungkook’s said it…

You jump out of your seat, grabbing them as you head to the kitchen. “Are they yours? I was convinced they were mine.”

He seems pissed, but when you hand him the bowl, he cocks an eyebrow. “You’ve eaten half of them.”

“There’s still plenty left!” you point out. “I’m sorry.”

“Peach,” he says, smirking. “It’s okay, I’ll eat something else.”

The nickname makes your cheeks burn. “No, really, take them.”

He hesitates for a few seconds more before shrugging his shoulders and grabbing the half-eaten bowl. “Thanks.”

You don’t reply, not knowing what to say as he moves back to the living room. Still hungry, you grab some grapes from the fridge before heading to your room, figuring you should study now. You get comfortable at your desk, studying for your next midterm. It goes well for a few hours, but when the sun has long since set, you hear Jungkook opening the front door, greeting someone.

For a moment, you’re afraid he’s invited a girl over, but it turns out to be Jimin. You relax in your chair, continuing to study, eyes growing heavy with every sentence that you read. Luckily enough, you don’t have a morning class tomorrow, having the week off before the midterm to “study”. So you push through, knowing that it doesn’t matter if you go to bed late tonight.

You can’t focus on your laptop anymore when you hear Jungkook cursing at Jimin from the living room. It’s loud, and you only then realize that the TV is on, and they’re clearly playing some game. Just like that, what was left of your concentration flies out of the window, and you get up to go see what they are up to.

Turns out that they are playing Mario Kart, and from the looks of it, Jungkook is losing. He’s leaning towards the TV, elbows resting on his knees as he concentrates, and Jimin has a shit-eating grin on his lips. The latter’s eyes flicker to you for half a second before he resumes his attention on the television.

“Hey,” he greets you, adding your name at the end. “Want to play?”

You move closer so you can see the screen, and you watch as they drive the rainbow road. “I’m supposed to be studying.”

Jungkook curses loudly, and you watch his character fall from the road. You laugh, right as Jimin finishes the race.

“JK, you suck,” Jimin teases.

Jungkook is pouting next to him, half in concentration and half in annoyance, and he looks stupidly cute like this. You hate it, so you resume your attention on the screen to watch him finish in eleventh place, right in front of Princess Peach.

“Fuck off,” Jungkook drawls, and his gaze slides to where you’re standing. It seems he thinks you are salvation because his gaze lights up. He says your name enthusiastically, adding, “My second favourite Kim sibling!”

You purse your lips, furrowing your brows. “Fuck off,” you tell him.

“Can you please go get some beer from the fridge, since you’re standing?” he adds, begs, ignoring you.

He offers you his best impression of puppy eyes, and you want to hate him because, damn, he’s good. Too good, and you shake your head in disapproval, though you still turn around and walk over to the kitchen. You fish two beers out of the fridge and thinking better of it, you grab a third one for yourself. You head back to the living room then, handing the cans to the guys.

“Thank you,” Jimin says, but all Jungkook does is wink at you, a smirk playing on his lips.

It makes something warm blossom in your chest, and as he glances down at your naked legs, the feeling soon trickles down to your core. Indeed, you’re only wearing a pair of pajama shorts, and luckily enough, you’ve been shaving your legs religiously now that you’ve been sleeping with Hoseok again.

Your cheeks flush, and you try to figure out where to sit. Jimin is leaning against the armrest, back propped up against a pillow, and Jungkook is in the middle of the couch, next to the L-shaped part. It only leaves you with the option of sitting next to him, and you clench your jaw, though you still make it to his side.

You sit as far from him as you can, grabbing the blanket you always leave on the back of the couch to hide your legs, lest Jungkook’s gaze burns your skin more.

“You wanna play?” Jungkook asks.

You shake your head no. “Just taking a break from studying.”

“With a beer?”

He sounds disapproving, so you glance at him. “Yeah?”

He snorts, but he doesn’t say anything else as Jimin starts another race. You watch them play, cheering for Jimin even though Jungkook is winning. Jimin, ecstatic, keeps drifting into the wall, but he manages to get a blue shell on the last turn, which he immediately launches at Jungkook.

Jungkook curses loudly again as you giggle with Jimin, watching his character – Wario – spinning on the screen. He still manages to finish the race fourth, with Jimin right behind him.

You’ve been drinking your beer fast, and after the next race, Jimin manages to convince you to play. You choose Princess Peach, obviously, right as Jimin moves away to go to the bathroom.

“Really, Princess Peach?” Jungkook teases, a smirk adorning his lips. “You’re trash with her.”

“The character you choose changes nothing,” you say, glaring at him. “Let me be.”

“Right,” he says, laughing. He leans back into the couch, taking a sip from his beer. “You did earn your nickname after all.”

“Please.” You roll your eyes, before meeting his gaze. “You know I hate that nickname.”

“Hence why I’ll keep using it, peach.”

You punch him in the shoulder, clearly not hard enough to hurt. As a matter of fact, it hurts your hand more than it probably hurts him as your fist collides with his hard shoulder muscles, and you grit your teeth as you sit back in your spot.

“You’re annoying.”

He grins at you, a toothy grin that makes you want to punch him again, in the face this time. “You love it,” he teases.

Before you can say no, Jimin walks out of the bathroom, and the moment is over. You go back to playing, and you end up on a winning streak, which earns you a lot of curses from Jungkook. Right when you’re about to go for a fourth race, Jungkook claiming that this one is going to be his race, Jimin receives a call.

“It’s Sera,” he says as an explanation, and he walks away to take the call in the kitchen, away from you and Jungkook.

Jungkook immediately turns towards you. “Have you been practicing? You were trash last time we played.”

You snort. “I have better things to do with my free time than to practice playing Mario Kart.”

He cocks an eyebrow at you before shaking his head. “Whatever, I’ll beat you in this race.”

“Good luck with that,” you tease. “Didn’t you finish last in the last one?”

To your surprise, he leans towards you. He’s close enough for you to feel his breath fanning on your face, and you hold yours as he offers you a smirk and a cocked eyebrow.

“At least I finished.”

You don’t know what he’s referring to, so you offer him a quizzical look. “What?”

He chuckles, and one of his hands pats your thigh over the blanket. It still burns, and you gulp.

“Pretty sure that guy you’ve been fucking hasn’t made you finish.”

You flush crimson. “Why the fuck would you think that?”

You hope he can’t hear the furious beats of your heart because you’re pretty sure you’re about to go into cardiac arrest.

“Heard you sucking his dick, and then you tell me he left. He didn’t take care of you, did he?”

The way Jungkook is looking at you right now makes you feel new. Seen. As if no one’s ever looked at you that way before.

“I deserved it,” you reply, throat dry. You try swallowing, but it only makes you gulp again.

“Come on, peach. What did you do to deserve that?”

He’s even closer now. Eyes dropping to your lips as you tentatively wet them, and you feel yourself leaning back. Mostly because you think you’re going to explode if you don’t move.

Jeon Jungkook is dangerous for your sanity.

“Ghosted him,” you admit.

That takes Jungkook by surprise. He starts laughing, shaking his head. “You, ghosting someone?”

Luckily enough, as he laughed he sat back in his spot, and you breathe easier with the renewed distance between you.

“Yeah?”

Jungkook chuckles again. “For some reason, I thought you were a hopeless romantic.”

“Why?”

He shrugs, and you both glance towards the kitchen from which Jimin emerges. Jungkook never answers your question as Jimin announces that he’s going to play one last race before he’ll have to leave, and you’re forced to let the conversation go as he starts the race.

This time around, you can’t focus. You keep falling off the track, hands clammy as your mind replays the conversation with Jungkook. As it reminds you of just how Jeon Jungkook’s gaze was burning on you a moment ago, and you drive into a wall on the second turn.

“Fuck,” you curse.

“Distracted?” Jungkook asks, and the smirk tells you enough for you to understand what just happened.

He was trying to distract you. You fume, focusing on the screen with new vigour as you try to pass Jungkook. He notices your intent, but when he laughs, you once again run into a wall, slowing you down enough that you fall back to the tenth position.

When Jungkook passes the finish line first, he cheers loudly, winking your way. You glare at him, and Jimin laughs at the two of you, though he says nothing. You wonder if he’s heard part of your conversation with Jungkook – if he has, you reckon your brother is going to give you shit for it soon. You can only hope that he hasn’t, because as much as you love Taehyung, you don’t want him to be an overbearing asshole.

Jimin leaves, wishing you and Jungkook a good night before disappearing into the soft snowfall outside. You don’t move from the couch, and when Jungkook heads to the kitchen, you put your controller down, stretching as you yawn.

To your surprise, Jungkook comes back with another beer for each of you.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

“Don’t you still want to play?” he says as he sits next to you, and electricity courses through your blood as you notice he’s closer now.

“Not really,” you admit, yet you still accept the beer that he hands you.

“Mind if I play something else, then?”

You shrug your shoulders. “Nah, go on. I’ll just drink this and go to bed.”

“Tired of me?” he teases, smirking.

You roll your eyes, but don’t reply to that.

“What made you think that I’m a hopeless romantic?” you ask after a few seconds, going back to your previous conversation.

He plays with his piercing, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Have you seen your brother? It wasn’t far-fetched to think you’d be like him.”

He’s not wrong. Taehyung is a romantic, through and through. It’s one of the reasons why he loves Paris so much – the city of love, where he’s himself finding love at the moment, it seems. He’s been that way for as long as you can remember, only having dated a girl once in his life all through high school, splitting because she decided to go to an Ivy League college on the other side of the country.

“Right,” you say.

Jungkook switches games to Smash, not saying anything else. It seems the conversation is over, and you watch him play a match as you sip your beer, slower than the other one. It makes you realize that you don’t usually hang out with Jungkook, and you reckon you have nothing to tell him.

There’s usually always a buffer between the two of you, be it Taehyung or Jimin.

“How have your midterms been going?” he asks all of a sudden, right as you watch his character being thrown out of the screen.

“Huh,” you let out. “It’s been okay,” you admit. “Just stressful, and a lot of studying.”

He glances at your beer. “Sorry for interrupting your studying tonight.”

“Nah, all good,” you reassure him. “I needed a break. I pulled an all-nighter last night.”

He throws you a disapproving look that makes you shrug your shoulders as if to say ‘it’s whatever’. He doesn’t say anything though, waiting until his match ends to speak again.

“You shouldn’t pull all-nighters, they’re bad for your health.”

“It’s fine,” you insist. “I had a midterm this morning, didn’t really have a choice.”

He pulls at his piercing, nodding once. “Fair enough. What are you doing still up though?”

Right on cue, you yawn again. “I’m going to head to bed soon,” you admit. “But I took a nap this afternoon and I always struggle with sleeping after.”

“Pretty sure you’ve got a little friend that can help you with that.”

Your mouth falls open in surprise, but Jungkook’s attention is focused on the screen as another match begins.

“Excuse me?”

“Unless you just use your fingers?” he teases. “How do you touch yourself, peach?”

“Jungkook, shut the fuck up,” you warn.

Though his words have arousal build up inside of you, and you clench your thighs together instinctively.

“Just do whatever you did the other night,” he says, and you know he’s referring to the Incident. “You’ll sleep well after.”

You shake your head in disbelief. “You’re so crass.”

“Yet you’re still sitting next to me.”

You watch his profile, and your eyes fall to the ink on his arm. His forearm flexes as he uses the controller, and you force yourself to look at the screen.

“I’m just finishing my beer.”

He glances at you once, and you think you could drown in the darkness in his eyes. His gaze is gone too fast for you to do just that, but you still feel your pulse racing.

“Relax, peach,” he tells you, voice suddenly husky. It has the opposite effect of making you relax, and you wet your lips as he continues, “Masturbating is only human. You shouldn’t be ashamed of it.”

“Still don’t think I should be discussing that with you,” you say after a few seconds of electric current swimming in your blood.

He chuckles manly. “Fair enough. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

In truth, he did quite the opposite, but you don’t have it in you to tell him. You don’t want to tell him, don’t want to encourage his behaviour when it feels like danger in its purest form.

“All good,” you say, and you’re aware you sound breathless. As a matter of fact, you are breathless, and you know Jungkook heard it too. Know that the look he throws you is filled with lust, sinfully so, and you know you need to leave this room.

He’s your brother’s best friend, after all.

“I’m…” you trail off. He nods once to encourage you to continue, gaze still burning on you even though that means he’s losing his game. “I’m going to go to bed now.”

He glances at your beer. “You’re done with that?”

He’s a little shit. He’s a little shit, and he clearly knows it.

“I’ll finish it in my room.”

His tongue darts out to play with his piercing as his big doe eyes narrow. “Alright. Good night, peach.”

You nod once, and you get up from the couch. The blanket falls from your legs, and you’re all too aware of how he’s looking at you like he’s about to devour you.

“Good night.”

And then you flee, core heated up and heart beating out of your chest. You’re convinced you can feel his gaze boring a hole between your shoulder blades, but you don’t turn around to confirm. You refuse to turn around to confirm, lest you’re never going to be able to make it to your room.

You hate this. Hate that he’s got you hot and bothered too much for you to be able to settle in bed comfortably. Hate that you find yourself seeking your vibrator in your night table.

You only sigh in relief when you’ve got it pressed against your clit through your underwear. And you’ve soaked through your panties already. They’re sticky against you, but you can’t bring yourself to move them to the side. Not for a while, not until you’ve hidden your face in your bed cover to muffle your sounds, if you make any.

No, it takes you a moment before you finally decide to push them to the side, and the direct contact on your clit has you arching your back, stars swimming in the periphery of your vision. You think about Jungkook. Remember the sounds that he makes while he fucks, remember the words that he’s told you.

You remember his big eyes, filled with sudden lust for you. You imagine him murmuring his dangerous words right in your ear, lips moving against you, and the thought of him pushing his dick in you is enough to send you over the edge, vision flashing with white light for so long that you think you’ve gone blind. And then you push the vibrator inside of you, not surprised when it slides right in with how wet you are.

You’re aware of the squelching sounds it makes, but you can’t bring yourself to care. All you can do is imagine being impaled on Jungkook’s dick instead, imagine his inked hand wrapping around your neck as he pounds into you.

In your fantasies, he fucks you even better than Hoseok does. He fucks you into ecstasy, fucks you until you’re high with it, and you go dumb. Until all that’s left is his dick, and it’s no surprise when you muffle a loud moan in the bed cover as you squirt, your juices covering the hand you’re fucking yourself with.

And still, you can’t stop. You turn on your side, hide your face in your pillow as tears swim in your gaze with the intensity of your pleasure. You imagine Jungkook on his side of the wall, imagine him stroking his cock, listening to you choking on Hoseok’s dick, remember him admitting to being turned on by it…

Your other hand moves between your legs, finds your sensitive clit and starts rubbing insistent circles on it, right as another knot starts forming in your lower stomach. You move the vibrator inside of you faster, time your motions with the circles on your clit, and soon enough, a new orgasm finds you, slams into you so hard you think you’ll lose your mind.

Only then are you able to stop, turning off your vibrator and putting it down on the bed next to you, hands shaking slightly. You don’t move for a long time as you swim in the aftereffect of your pleasure, and it takes you a while to decide to go clean up. Clearly, you need a cold shower, but first, you chug what was left of the beer, needing to numb your mind so you can’t be embarrassed by what just happened.

You put your pajama shorts back on, grab a clean pair of underwear and then stop next to the door. You listen to the sounds outside of your room, but it seems Jungkook’s not gaming anymore. So you hesitantly open the door, and when you find the apartment completely dark, you sigh in relief.

You tiptoe towards the bathroom, slowing down in front of Jungkook’s door. There’s a faint red light under his door, coming from the LED lights you know he’s hung in his room, and you wonder what he’s doing in there.

Through the door, you hear some faint feminine moaning and instinctively bite your lips. You only realize you’ve stopped in front of his door when you hear him curse lowly, and then the moaning is interrupted. He’s watching porn. You’re painfully aware that he’s watching porn, jerking off just on the other side of his closed door.

You reckon you will really need the cold shower after all.

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Oooooof these two I swear... how did we like this chapter? Good? Not good? Let me know!!

#chasing cars ch 2 #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #jungkook #jjk smut #jjk angst #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk fic #jjk #chasing cars #chasing cars series #btswritersclub #jeon jungkook

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 1 year ago

Note

Ahhhh I've been waiting for your requests to open, I've been following you since your first Price fic and never had an idea to request until like 2 weeks ago 😫 so, I've been thinking, what about being in a relationship with Keegan but getting separated when ODIN hits the earth and not meeting again until about 5 years later? 👀 Love your writing, hope you have a great day 🩵 :)

For The Weak And Weary

PAIRING: Keegan P. Russ x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: When ODIN struck you had thought he had died, sky alight with fire. It had taken years to accept it, much less live with it. But after Dallas falls, would you get a glimpse of your Lover's phantom again?

WORDCOUNT: 6.2k

WARNINGS: Angst, depressive thoughts, PTSD insinuations, gore, wounds, blood, death, canon-typical violence, (1) suggestive joke, alcohol, hallucinations, fluffy reunion, tears, verbal arguments, etc.

A/N: Just because I'm a sucker for sticking to the game timeline I made it ten years, lol. Enjoy, Anon! Very fun prompt.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You could never make sense of what Keegan went through in 2005 during Operation Sand Viper. It would be pointless to try and wrap your head around it from what little you knew. All that mattered was that when he came back on leave, something in his eyes was…damaged. Hell, he’d only been sixteen—the both of you had known each other since you were kids, you knew when something was wrong.

And this was entirely new to you.

He smiled less and snapped more; got spooked when you dropped something in his family's kitchen like a grenade had gone off. Maybe, you reasoned, he thought one actually had.

But through it all, you could still see how much he cared about you. When you were old enough you’d both moved into a nice place in the suburbs and started a relationship—a life shared between the two of you.

You knew he loved you from the way he’d grip you close at night and breathe into your scalp. How when you were sick from the take-out dinner he’d brought home, Keegan would hold back your hair and rub circles into your spine as you threw up. He never shied away from telling you how beautiful you were; prided himself on it. Keegan loved to show you off.

But there were times back then when you wondered if the same Keegan that had been so fulfilled to join Ghosts had died, and, in fact, a phantom was instead puppeting his skin. He was so quiet now.

If you’d known that the world was going to end on July 10th, 2017, you’d have never let him walk out that door angry. You would have grabbed his hand and pressed your lips to his, whispered affirmations into his flesh and sobbed at the cruelty of it all.

“I can’t keep pretending that you’re okay!” You yell, tears in your eyes, at the man standing tense in the kitchen doorway. Blank blue eyes stare lifelessly. “Keegan—this is killing you.”

It was early morning by then, and the neighborhood was quiet. The house that the both of you had moved into years ago was littered with the remnants of a happy home. Pictures on the walls, dishes in the sink, and freshly baked bread on the counter. All you’d tried to do was give Keegan a hug, slipping your hands around his waist when you’d entered.

He’d balked back, jerking to the side and nearly elbowed you in the gut before he saw your wide eyes and stopped himself. The way he’d looked at you…how could eyes be so dead?

“You need to talk to someone,” you put your foot down, shaking your head. “I-I don’t know a therapist or…or someone who can get you proper help because I can’t keep acting like I can live like this.”

Every mission, every time he went away, it always got worse.

Keegan’s eyes get sharp, hands at his sides clenching. He speaks in a low growl. “I don’t need to talk to a shrink, alright? I’m fine, you just startled me.”

“Bullshit,” your mouth hisses, glaring. “You thought you were back in ‘05.”

The man points at you, strong jaw clenching, “Don’t.”

“Keegan,” you plead, “please, I love you! I don’t care about this, I just want you to be alright. To be able to live your life—”

“What you want is to try and change me!” The black-haired man barks. Your eyes blink in shock. Keegan rarely yelled. “I already told you I was fine, why don’t you get off my back all the time?” His eyes flash, pupils going to slits as his hands shake at his sides. Why did he look scared? Your breath stills, lips slightly open, with tears dripping to the tile. “Fuck, it’s like I can’t come home without you pesterin’ me ‘bout something!”

A stiff silence falls.

“Kee—” He snaps a hand to his mouth and rubs at his stubble, suddenly unable to look at you.

“...Forget it.” It’s low and shaky how he says it, eyes wide, before he darts into the foyer and slips into his boots. You listen to the sounds of panicked shuffling before the man wrenches open the front door and slams it shut behind him. One of the picture frames falls and hits the ground with a shattering of glass.

You flinch and tense, taking down a terse breath and sniffling tightly. Trying to get your lungs to work properly, your feet take you over to the picture as they feel weak and uneven; a stuttering mess of steps before you bend down. Your fingers bleed as they shift the glass away, taking out the image of you and Keegan on your hike through the mountains.

Smiling faces mock you, and you break at the bright and open affection Keegan wears as he looks down at you—eyebrows curved up and smirk like a knife to the chest.

You loved him so much it hurt to breathe when he was away.

He had needed time, you knew, but what you didn’t know was that time wouldn’t be available. Around noon the world had opened into a ball of fire and death. 27 million dead. Los Angeles, San Diego, Phoenix, Houston, and Miami…all gone…at least, that was what everyone in Dallas was telling you.

When Keegan had been away taking a walk to calm himself, you’d been home alone. The earth caved, the ground shook; houses burst like balloons. By the time you’d crawled from the rubble of your home, all you had was the picture and the clothes on your back. People were screaming—you were screaming. But you knew that you couldn’t stay here if you wanted to survive.

And then you’d made it to Dallas by sheer luck and the few tricks Keegan had taught you; had thought that he had died in that first strike by the Federation. You carried that guilt and self-hatred for not holding your tongue for a few more hours.

So much could have been different in these ten years. Better. You never got over him for even a second.

But the reality was that you couldn’t think about all of that now, because if you didn’t focus on holding your breath you would be dead in the next three seconds.

Your hand is anchored to the body of your sniper rifle, finger hovering over the trigger as you hide behind the outcropping of rubble in the decimated cityscape; the air is hot and humid despite the weight of the night. It sticks to your skin in a sheen of violent sweat. Yet it’s still not as potent as the blood.

Teeth gritted, you hold back whimpers as Federation soldiers stalk the grounds, scores of them—legions. An entire army that had breached the walls and executed everyone insight, soldiers, civilians, if it once moved it didn’t anymore. The burning in your shoulder was agonizing, head smashing itself back to the rubble in an attempt to stifle your own ragged need to scream into the night as layers had peeled back to allow a bullet to pass through.

In the ten years you’d been here, you’d taken up the mantle of quite the sharpshooter; pulling on Keegan’s lessons when he was on leave and wanted to bring you to the firing range. You had even picked a rifle similar to the one back in your destroyed home—held in a plastic case and treated like royalty by your long-deceased lover. It wasn’t the same, but the jet-black Lynx made you steady like the picture in your breast pocket did.

A reminder of what was lost and why you had picked the knock-off up in the first place.

Footsteps get closer as the sweep of a flashlight cards above your skull, if possible you go even more still, lips pulled in and heart rampaging. There were barked orders and yelling, but no more screaming.

How long had you been unconscious after taking that shot to the shoulder? Fear was breeding with horror—was…was everyone dead?

Spanish is loudly called not five feet away, and the flashlight leaves as your breath does. You let off a quiet gasp and suck down air greedily. Eyes flashing from one shadow to another, you look for any opportunity to slip away from the city. In the wind, you could smell fire, and taste it on your tongue as you licked your lips.

All around you can see the limp shadows of bodies and the apartments, large skyscrapers were on fire deep in their frames. The city was entirely lost.

How the federation got into the walls you would never know, though there was concern about the enemy soldiers rounding up civilians outside the walls and executing them. Maybe one cracked before the bullet entered their skull.

You bite hard into your lip to force back your pain. Trying to shoot a rifle would be useless at this point, you might as well have lost the limb. Slinging the gun’s strap over your head, you look back and forth along your visible perimeter, checking for hostiles as you unsheathe your combat knife and cradle your limp arm to your chest.

If only Keegan could see you now.

Rounds of gunfire make the air burn with urgency, and you take the time to peek out behind as sweat makes a trail down your dirty face, dripping off of your chin as you breathe like a wheezing dog. Your wound needed tending, and you had the med pack on your vest with the supplies, but you can’t do it here.

Where’s safe? If Dallas has fallen…is there anywhere that’s still standing? A location hits your brain as your gaze darts from one abandoned street to another. You take a deep breath and whine as you force your legs to stand and move quickly, feet shifting as quietly as you’re able to make them.

“Fort Santa Monica.” Now a stronghold, you’d heard US soldiers here talking about the large presence of military power out in California—numbers so great they rivaled those that had lived in Dallas.

You stumble over a spasming body and slam your uninjured shoulder into the bulk of the building’s wall, groaning loudly like a wounded boar.

“Fuck!” If you made it out of the city, that would be where you would have to go; to warn them of what was coming. The Federation had found a way inside the Dallas wall, and that meant if they had enough tenacity, they could do it to them too.

Everything would be done if another city fell.

Holding your knife tighter, you push off the wall and grit your teeth harder, mind running on that edge of hysteria and forced calm. It’s in these moments where you have to pull on old memories to keep you going—even if they end up hurting more than the open wounds you carry.

Keegan had his bad moments, but you always got through them together. Years and years of knowing each other inside and out; memorizing bodies and thoughts like they were second nature. He would want you to keep fighting, tell you to get your ass in gear and go…and you would never let him down.

You owed him that much even if some days you wanted more than anything to join him.

Blade in hand, you hear muttered speech from up the alleyway and pause, feet splayed but still swaying as you come to a slow stop. Your ears ring at garbled sentences, foreign words spilling into one another.

Panting, you listen closely, limbs vibrating. More gunfire echoes over the air, screams and death that get ingrained into your head like a brand into sizzling flesh. Skyscrapers burned and buildings fell with great earthquake booms. Everything is under a sheen of distance.

Get out of the city. Get to Fort Santa Monica.

“Kill who I have to,” you slur out, itching at your neck as you leave a trail of blood behind you. A single pair of footsteps walk quickly forward near your corner and you hold your breath, bringing up your knife as pain pounds in your arm.

Deep blue eyes sit in the back of your mind, counting you down as they always did.

Keep your arm steady for me, Doll, a phantom tells you. Breathe...

When the first shadow of a Fed soldier graces your eyes, you strike.

—

It’s roughly nineteen days from Dallas to Santa Monica, and that was if you kept up at a steady walking pace. If the crude sling you’d fashioned from bandages found in your med pack was any indicator, it would be double that.

On the first day, you had hiked half-dead over the destroyed landscape of what remained of the USA, licking your wounds and counting your losses. You’d had your pick of abandoned houses, taking a red brick one just because it looked nice and you were about to pass out from blood loss. The only reason you’d made it this far was that the bullet had thankfully passed right through you, making sure that if you moved too suddenly no more damage was being done internally. You packed it with a sterile rag.

Sitting in the home, pictures gathering dust on the fireplace mantle, you tipped back a bottle of whisky you’d found in one of the bedrooms, grimacing at the sting. It was better to be drunk for what you were about to do.

Heating up your combat knife in the fire you had started in the hearth, you watched the metal grow an eye-flinching white as you stared off into nothingness.

“You remember when you showed me that scar, Keegan?” You always talked to him. Others had given you shit for it, but they knew the purpose. If you didn’t talk to someone, even a ghost, you would give up.

The guilt was eating you alive, and it would overtake you eventually. Hadn’t in ten years, but it would…you knew it, everyone did.

Keegan was everything, and nothing looked the same when you lost him.

“The one on your thigh?” Pulling the knife back, you turn to the leaking flesh of your shoulder, gushing blood as black desecrates the sides of your eyes. You’d taken off your vest and shirt. If you tried hard enough you could imagine Keegan standing in the corner, watching. Always watching. “You said you had to dig a bullet out and cauterize the wound—when I asked you said you barely felt it over all the adrenaline.”

The ghost tilts its head, eyes sad and lips pulling taunt. Your lungs take in a shaky inhale and your hand quivers; only you feel how your eyes burn with unshed tears.

“I never thought about it before,” right as you growl and shove the knife into your skin, you bark out in fear, “But I think you were fucking lying!”

On day two, you knew you had to avoid the remains of Fort Worth, so you decided to increase your distance and cut that landmark out entirely—too many remnants of Federation. They were everywhere now, and you needed to keep low; get out of Texas. You scavenged properties and took stock.

Four magazines for your Lynx, a pouch with five protein bars, one bottle of water attached to your belt, and your knife. Normally you’d have a pistol at your thigh, but you’d used it up in the firefight back home. When you’d woken back up, it had been gone.

And, of course, you had the picture. You kissed Keegan’s face and placed it back in your breast pocket, caressing the material softly before clearing your throat and addressing the obvious.

With what you had getting to California was a pipe dream.

You’d been on the radio all day, clicking through channels and pleading for anyone alive to reach out. Nothing. Static.

I’m the only one left. The thought was intoxicating, pounding in your skull like your hangover. Everyone is dead.

While you had become somewhat of a loner in the last ten years, especially with the few months you’d been by yourself in the beginning, Dallas had given you a chance to build bonds again. Ten years, and in an instant it was all wiped out.

It rang a devastating bell.

Somehow, you had cheated death where so many others had failed—not only in Texas, but back with ODIN too. You had survived, but somehow Keegan hadn’t.

Keegan, the one who never spoke about ‘05 and jerked awake from nightmares years later because of it. Keegan, who wanted nothing more than to stay at your side when he was home and keep you on his chest when watching movies. Keegan, the love of your life.

The only love of your life.

“I really wish you were here,” you mutter, grimacing as your arm gets jostled as you stumble over a piece of rusted metal in the empty street. “Who gave you the right to go away before me, huh? We were supposed to grow old together, Russ. You promised me that.”

Garbage gets blown over the road when a hot breeze shifts the air, bringing the scent of dirt and the noise of rustling trees. Nature has reclaimed the towns and suburbs—great patches of ivy and long grass that rise to your hips. But the silence was a curse.

The only thing keeping you going is the thought of delivering your warning to Santa Monica, from there…

Your lips thinned. What even was there left? How many times could you go from one place to another, starting over with stories of your past and having to brush the pitying looks off as you fake a smile?

Shaking your head, you recall memories from the better days as the light gets low in the sky.

“You’re doin’ too much, Sweet Thing,” Keegan mutters, and you turn from the stove top with a bright smile to face him.

He had just gotten out of the shower, towel ruffling through his dark hair as he stands in the kitchen entrance and watches you cook for him. The shirt hangs off of his wide shoulders, and gray sweatpants are loose over his formed hips—his strong brow line raises in a casual expression.

“Oh, don’t act like you don’t like it,” you tease, hearing his low chuckles as you turn back to your pan. “You look good, y’know.”

“Oh, yeah?” Keegan grunts, smirking, and his feet pad over to you, tossing the towel to the counter as his presence looms over your back. Large hands grab onto your hips and a nose burrows into your hair; inhaling deeply before gradually melting to the curve of your spine.

You smile and hum, pushing back so you can rest on his chest. A chin sets itself on your head, deep massaging fingers making you pur as they bunch your sleep shorts.

It was late—nearly two in the morning. Keegan had only gotten home a short while ago, but sleep wasn’t going to stop you from spoiling him. A wine bottle was on the island counter, two glasses, and the food was nearly done from what you could scrounge up on short notice.

“...Good to be back,” the man grumbles into you, kissing your head and slowly sweeping his arms around your waist as you sighed softly at the contact.

Your face gains heat.

“Well, I’d sure hope so, or else this would be awkward.” You huff to hide the bright smile in your voice. But like a moth to flame, you hear, as well as feel, Keegan chuckle against your spine. His grip squeezes you for a moment.

“How was it when I was away?” He asks as you move around the contents in the pan, nose brushing your neck as his lips travel to kiss behind your ear. He breathes against the flesh as his low rasp makes you shiver. “Any trouble?”

“Negative, Sergeant,” you raise a brow and smirk over your shoulder at him, seeing his blues spark as he gazes hard into your eyes. A faint twitch to his lips is what you get before his hand captures your cheek; anchoring your face as he descends to connect his mouth to yours.

He sighs into it, arm still around your waist—tight as if you were a pillow.

“Keep talkin’ like that and we won’t have to wait long for dessert, will we?”

Days three through seven were uneventful beyond the constant agony of your arm and tired legs, but on day eight amid a waterless walk in the sweltering heat was when the hallucinations began.

Keegan walks beside you, his footsteps mirroring your own as sweat pools down your forehead and drips off your nose. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t look at you—he just walks, looking exactly like he did the day he died.

At first, you’d flinched back and blinked wildly at the sight, panting, but then he’d disappeared and your heart had shattered. It worried you with what you were seeing, but it was also a strange comfort to be able to ramble to…something, even if it wasn’t real. Hungry and with a dry tongue, you were on the verge of calling it quits.

So on day eleven, without a wild animal in sight to give you a proper food source and all the water having to be purified, you started talking to him while licking the inside wrapper of your last protein bar.

“But I never understood why you hated sleeping in shirts,” you licked your lips to get the remnants of granola off of your flesh, pushing away the greasy sheen from your cheeks. Your arm was burning up—every heartbeat was felt as it moved the skin around red and infected flesh up and down. Puss was leaking out from the crude stitches you had made of embroidery thread from that first house you’d found.

“And you always kept the room freezing.” Continuing, you drop the wrapper to the ground and then take the meat of your fingers and get what little flavor you can off of them, grunting through realization. “That was a ploy to have me use you for heat, wasn’t it? Jesus.”

The man in the corner of your vision smirks, tilting his head and chuckling from where he leans against a tree trunk.

“Yeah, that’s right. Knew it.” Glaring at nothing, you stand from your overturned stump and nearly fall right back over, stomach yelling at you as your vision swirls.

You dig a hand into your hair and grip at the strands, pulling and groaning. “...God.”

Keegan comes over and stands above you, your eyes staring down at his feet as you get light-headed. You focus on his shoelaces, counting the Xs and taking down shaky breaths. When you blink like a cat with dirt on its face, the shoes are gone entirely and you stand back up to your full height.

“...Keegan?” You ask after a moment, the words disappearing into the trees, but no one’s around.

Your sight goes to your wound and your jaw tightens, moments of clarity slipping in as a knife would into your consciousness before the curtain settles once more.

You bend over and vomit what little nutrients you had, spending day twelve sleeping through a fit of nightmares and fever-induced delirium.

Nothing about the remainder of the time you can recall to memory—bits and pieces always flash through on long nights, but they’re only walking montages. Dragging feet, looking at your hand as if it was a foreign object as you turned it back and forth; everything in a sheen of sickness. Days and days and days. Little food. Less water.

More than one-thousand miles.

But somehow, the Wall peels out in front of you as you crash through the foliage, your body giving out and collapsing down a large decline. Bouncing and getting jostled by rocks, you come to a stop without the strength to get back up, staring blankly ahead as your head connects with concrete. Your mouth is open in broken inhales, pain not even registering.

Shouts echo, the pound of rapid feet.

Green eyes meet yours, a youthful face with a beanie and stubble. He’s saying something to you, glancing over your gear and your obvious near-death situation—his hand jostles the side of your face. But your eyes shift behind him gradually, attention falling to someone more important.

Before you finally let yourself rest, you stare at the smiling face of your steadfast phantom.

—

The doctors and nurses at Fort Santa Monica were nice, if a bit secretive about the entire operation. Seeing as you weren’t an official soldier, no dog tags or patches—no name in the database—everyone was a bit hesitant to tell you anything.

Until you said you were from Dallas, of course.

But no one was eager to rush you in your state, even if the information was dire. You had been hooked up to an IV and bedridden for a week straight; talking to nothing on account of the dehydration and electrolyte imbalances. Some days you spend unconscious.

But what really pissed you off when you got back into it, was the fact that they had taken your Lynx and your gear—your picture.

You’d almost grappled onto the first nurse you’d seen when you’d woken without it. It was a beacon, your prized possession of damaged corners and taped tears. Water damage that may or may not have been from sobbing fits in the first five years.

In fact, that was the entire reason you had snuck out so late in the first place.

Stalking down the hallway in the white shirt and camo pants that had been given to you on the fifth morning you had woken up here, you pad along with no shoes, only plain gray socks. You limp with bandaged flesh all along your healing shoulder and your feet.

The doctor had explained that you’d entirely skinned the bottoms and your heels were a mess of blisters and open wounds.

“Take my property,” you grumble under your breath, shuffling along and rubbing at the back of your neck. “What gives them the right?”

You weren’t going to stop until you found it.

Reading the name tags on the walls, you silently wonder where they would have taken your stuff as you slip out of the medical ward, listening to the buzzing of the lights and frowning. As you’re limping along the next hallway, a man suddenly turns the corner on nearly silent feet.

“Woah!” You halt immediately, heart jumping in your chest. A hand catches your shoulder before you run headlong into him.

Green eyes lock with your own, wide and blinking quickly. Brows furrow and you’re quickly looked over before a slow, teasing remark enters the air, you listen with a growing heat on your neck.

“Y’know, I could have sworn you were supposed to be in bed, Ma’am. I miss something here?” The man who had found you.

“Wouldn’t know,” you say blandly, blinking up at him and taking a careful step back. This brunette had a casual air to him—still in his gear despite the time. He folds his arms and tilts his head at you, smirking. “If you’ll excuse me.”

You begin to walk forward, slipping past him and hoping you won’t get snitched on. Except it seems you’ll be having a shadow, as not a few seconds later a smooth chuckle meets your ears and the man walks beside you.

“I think I’ll be taggin’ along if you don’t mind. Security and all.” He turns to face you, sticking out his opposite hand. “Hesh.”

“That supposed to be some kind of nickname, Kid?” You raise a stiff brow but participate in the handshake nonetheless. His grip is firm but not hard.

Hesh blinks at you, eyes swimming with amusement before he shrugs in a boyish way and shakes his head with a laugh. “Hell, you remind me of someone, Ma’am.” A moment passes in silence as you study the area. The man huffs, “Where exactly are we off to?”

“Wonderland,” your lips grumble, tired and wanting to sleep but not until you find your picture. Hesh sighs but you can still hear the hilarity inside of it.

“Alright then…don’t know if you’re going to be finding a shrinking potion anytime soon, though. We’re in low stock.”

“Very funny,” your eyes send a dry look, but you relent when he prods you with his eyes, taking a corner. “I’m looking for my vest.” Hesh blinks at you in curiosity, letting you elaborate as you motion to your upper shoulder. “My pouch has some of my personal belongings. I don’t like being away from it.”

“Oh,” the brunette nods a few times, his beanie jerking along. “Yeah, that’s no problem.” A hand is waved and you stare in confusion as he pivots. “C’mon, I’ll get you there.”

Your eyes burn into his back before you immediately speed after.

“Why so eager to help?” Hesh smirks at your question.

“As I see it, if you went over nineteen days of hard hiking just to get to us, you should at least be able to keep your stuff on you, Ma’am.” Your lips flicker in a smile.

“You’d be the first.” You tell him your name and miss the slight emotion it provokes in his eyes, head lightly pulling to the side but ultimately saying nothing. Hesh shrugs with a grunt, leading you to a meeting room on the opposite side of the building.

Yelling is on the other side.

“Elias, how long has this been kept from me?!” The voice makes your head perk, evoking something inside of your chest. Hesh seems taken aback too, holding up a hand to you for momentary silence—not that you had to be told.

“Keegan, I can’t have that happen. She needs to recover and you being there could jeopardize that. We need what she knows about Dallas.” Your body stills to a near-frozen state, and it’s comedic how your entire face falls to a blank slate. Wait a second.

…Keegan?

“She belongs with me—I thought she fucking died and she’s been here for who knows how long?! Why wasn’t I informed?” Rampaging feet suddenly sound off, going to the door at break-neck speed.

“Son, that’s not a good idea. This is what I was worried would happen if you found out.”

“I didn’t exactly ask, did I? As far as I’m concerned, nothing else matters besides getting back to my Girl,” the bark is ferocious and violent, more of an animal’s than a man’s. “Now where the hell did you put her before I tear this damn fort apart and—” You shove at the door before Hesh can grab you, throwing it open and letting it hit the opposite wall with a great boom of wood.

Your wild eyes instantaneously lock into sharp blues, pulse pounding in your ears. It’s like all the air is taken from your lungs in a great punch.

Oh, he’s so similar to how you remembered him to be ten years ago.

Keegan stands only a few feet away, turned in your direction with his eyes so wide and small you might faint. There’s black face paint in his sockets, making the cerulean all the more bright and shocking to the senses. He’s still tall, still built, if only a bit more rugged than when ODIN struck—there are lines on his forehead and his scars are more faded. Small differences in the way he holds himself like the difference between a rabbit and a hare. Keegan’s black locks are shorter now, but still…his.

Lips part in silent shock, an entire halt of your nervous system.

The entire universe holds its tongue as you two stare at each other; walls and rooms blur into a mess of matter and reality—this couldn’t be real.

Keegan’s feet shift for a moment as if to steady himself as his fingers twitch. In his hand, he holds your picture, his body covered in gear and weapons. He blinks as you tell yourself he’s a phantom, simply that same ghost come back to haunt you as tears sting the backs of your eyes. But then he speaks, and it’s the same voice you had slowly lost the ability to remember in year three.

“...Sweetheart?”

His ghost never spoke. His ghost could not imitate the phonics of his speech or the rhythm of his throat. His ghost could not make you recall the memories you’d long since boxed up.

You jerk forward just as he does, bodies colliding into a feral grip of flesh and fabric, hands latching and faces burying. Sobs rip from you as Keegan’s shaky breath echoes right next to your ear—his chest hitching and arms snatching your waist and lifting you up as easily as he always had. He holds you up without any thought of putting you down, legging your legs dangle as Elias slowly exits the room and corrals a highly confused Hesh with him.

The door shuts, but neither of you notices.

“Keegan—” Your voice is high with emotion, hardly believing what you're seeing—what you’re touching. “Oh, my God.”

He had been alive all this time? Ten whole years and you’d thought he was dead. But by the way he was barely letting you breathe from in his iron clutch, you imagined Keegan had thought the same about you. It was…incomprehensible.

“Shh,” he whispers, his shushes cracking and flinching between broken gasps of your name. “Shh.” He sets you down on the floor only to have his firm hands travel to your cheeks, turning your head to each side in a desperate need to understand if you were really there.

Keegan’s eyes are wet, but no tears let themselves fall quite yet.

“I’m so sorry!” You hiccup and the man kisses your cheeks—your browline and nose. Every piece of you he can as you both stay so intimate you might melt into one another. “I thought you were gone, I-I should have stayed and looked for you, I didn’t—”

“You’re alive?” Keegan’s hands rub across your body, gripping and tugging you closer and closer. “My Girl’s alive?”

His tears drip to your face as he hovers above you, and you both shake with the weight of years.

“Me?” Your chuckle through sobs—you want to scream and wail at the same time. Blue eyes flutter and ragged breaths puff on your forehead. “What about you, you asshole?”

Keegan shakes his head, and you stare deeply into him, hands coming up to cup his cheeks as he sags forward. He had stubble now, spreading out to grate your flesh.

The man forces a weak huff.

“Christ,” is all he mutters before he presses his lips to yours in a kiss so unyielding you expect to have your air stolen. Ten years to feel him kissing you again—to feel his warm flesh under your hands and his heart rampage into you.

You’d do it all over if it still amounted to this.

Your body shivers and you reciprocate with just as much fervor; this emotion of relief is so overwhelming and all-consuming that it makes your head light. You suck down quick breaths between the sensation of your lips meeting, Keegan doing the same.

Unconsciousness was better than letting him leave again, your lover sharing that sentiment as chests slid against one another. Soft hair slips through your fingers as you grip Keegan’s hair, cascading through locks as he groans into your lips and tries to hide his tears from you.

He pulls away and immensely shoves his head into your neck.

“You’re here,” he whispers quickly. A hand quivers at the back of your head as your tears wet his gear. “You’re right here. You came back to me, didn’t you, Doll?”

You cry, “I’m here, Keegan.” The man sobs when he hears you say his name, his knees giving out as you both fall to the floor and not letting the other move beyond the caress of skin and lips.

“I missed you,” Keegan gasps, “so much. Don’t you understand? I was nothing without you. You took it all from me, everything. Every damn thing.”

You press kisses to his neck and racing pulse, healing him inside and out without even realizing it; it was only fair, he was doing the same back to you.

The picture lays long forgotten on the floor.

“Never let me go,” your voice forces out, as he rocks you back and forth like a child. “Never again, Keegan. Please, I love you too much to go through that again.”

“Never,” he immediately promises, pulling back and kissing your lips again—neither can stop themselves from this. Blues eyes blink quickly, cataloging your face and every little blemish he’d have to relearn and study; to find the story behind. Keegan had never been happier. He felt like he might break from it. “Over my dead body, I’m never lettin’ you out of my sight. You’re stuck with me.”

You laugh genuinely for the first time in ten years and say you’d like nothing better as he pulls you back in and plants his mouth to yours in reverent worship. His arms trapping you to him as yours do just the same.

Not to leave again anytime soon.

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