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cheapshrimpysheep · 1 year ago

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Silent Treatment

SUMMARY: How would they react to you giving them the Silent Treatment?

CHARACTERS: Demon Brothers (Lucifer; Mammon; Leviathan; Satan; Asmodeus; Beelzebub & Belphegor)

TAGS: Fluff; GN Reader

WORD COUNT: An average of 540 words per character.

COMMENTS: I remember I had this idea after reading that Mammon had stolen and sold something from MC. MC used STAY on him, but if he did that to me I would be so upset that I would want him to suffer more than that. And I thought about the silent treatment, which would certainly be his worst nightmare. And that's why I thought of making this post. Beel's part is the shortest, but you'll see why.

I hope you enjoy 🤫

CONTEXT: This takes place in the Original timeline and not Nightbringer. So, to make matters worse for them/him, you live with them in the House of Lamentation.

Your argument was probably about Lucifer working too much and you wanting to give him a break. But his stress mixed with pride made him deny this offer in a rather mean and perhaps even disrespectful way.

Does he not want you to bother him? Very well then. What if you never bother him again?

At home, you ignore him. He tries to talk to you, but seeing how stubborn you are he ends up giving up. But this is already bothering him a lot.

At school, if necessary, you will talk to him about importante matters related to RAD as if he were any other student at school. And that's it. Anything else outside of that, you will continue to ignore it.

And that just makes everything worse for him. To have YOU of all people talk to him like he was just any student?! Not only does this hurt his pride, but this small sample of conversation with you makes him miss you more and more. But he will continue to hide it.

The last straw will be at home, when he asks you something directly and you ask one of his brothers to answer for you. Bonus if it's someone from the Anti-Lucifer League. But he must have lasted two or three days without talking to you.

He will lure you to his office, where it all started. Maybe he'll tell you to go get some important papers. You won't see him inside, but as soon as you're close to the desk you'll hear the door closing and locking. And that's when you see him calmly walking down the office stairs to meet you.

“So you decided to give me the silent treatment.” Lucifer says as he walks down the stairs.

“Didn't you want me to leave you alone?” You say, still not looking at him.

“I never said that and you are perfectly aware of that.” He finishes down the stairs and walks over to you. “I just didn't want to rest because I needed to finish that.” You don't answer him again. He already knows what you think about that. Your back is to him and he stops right behind you. “*Sigh* I'm sorry. I know you only want me well. I was just... I shouldn't have talked to you like that. I promise that next time I will consider the break.”

His voice is sad, so you know he was being sincere. But you wanted to see how much he missed you, so you remained silent and with your back turned to him. And he knows you. He knows what you want. He sighs again, more deeply, as if you're making him admit something that hurts his pride.

“Please... I miss you...” You haven't turned around yet. That wasn't enough and it bothers him. You had his desk in front of you.

He rests his hand on the table, leaning on it, and leans in to bring his face closer to yours. “Now you're just teasing me, aren't you?” He was now with that smug on his face. And he sees you give a little smile, which was the sign he understood to move forward. He holds your chin and makes you face him. “You missed me too, didn't you?” he whispers near your lips “You little tease.” And he kisses you passionately and provocatively.

Mammon probably sold something of yours. Or maybe another things of yours. Of course, you hate it when he does that. So you decide to give him the silent treatment, because you know, you know perfectly well that he won't handle it. There is nothing else you can be so sure about as this.

The moment he realizes what you are doing, he collapses. The day wasn't even over yet. In fact, you were on break from classes.

He even gets kicked out of class for constantly trying to talk to you.

You know how much he hates being ignored and being ignored by you breaks his heart into pieces.

He wants to resolve this as quickly as possible, but not in front of his brothers. He waits for you to be alone in your room.

You hear a knock on your door and you ask who it is.

“It's me, the Great Mammon. I got your stuff back. All of them. Open the door and see.”

You decide to open the door, even if it was just out of curiosity and you see Mammon holding so many things that you can barely see his face. You can see your stuff that he sold and some gifts like a teddy bear, chocolates, clothes, accessories, your favourite nerd/geek/otako related stuff, etc... You let him in and put all that on top of your bed.

“I got it all back! But, um, you don't mind if some of them are new right? I also bought you more things. These are your favourite chocolates, right? And you really wanted this plush, didn't you?”

You remain silent, looking at him with your arms crossed. This already happened once and he sold your things again.

“I won't sell your stuff again, I promise. You can hit me with your stay if I ever do it again.”

You turn your back on him and go do something, like homework for example. You went back to ignoring him because he used that excuse before.

“Please hang me upside down like Lucifer, use your stay on me at full power, but please stop ignoring me.” he sounds desperate.

You sit at the table you have in the room behind the bed. Continuing to ignore him. The next scene you see is him kneeling next to you, his head at the same level as your thighs, and looking at you like a puppy with tears starting to come out of his eyes.

“Please. I never thought this was so bad. I can't stand not having you anymore. I miss your voice. I miss your laugh. Damn it, I miss you yelling at me.” He places his chin on your thigh, looking at you. “Please, talk to me again~”

You can't take so much cuteness anymore. “Don't sell my stuff again! You hear me, you idiot?!”

His face lights up. "Am I forgiven?"

“Yes, for now you are.”

He gets up and hugs you, showering you with kisses. He won't leave you alone for the rest of the day.

Levi would hardly do anything that deserved the silent treatment. He practically idolizes you, he would never do anything to hurt you. So, something like this would definitely have been an accident.

He had arranged a date with you. But then an Ruri-chan's event came up and he ended up going to it instead of going to you. He got the dates wrong and thought the date with you was the next day.

And he only realized this mistake when the next day he sent you a message asking where you were and if you had forgotten about the date, and you replied that he was the one who forgot that the date had been the day before.

After that, you are bombarded with messages apologizing and saying how much of a complete idiot he is and doesn't deserve you. You don't respond anymore, which leaves him in a dilemma to decide whether to go to you or never see you again because you don't deserve to hear the excuses of someone as pathetic as him.

But he has to do it! He has to apologize to you in person! Even if it means you telling him to his face that you never want to see him again. He would deserve it anyway.

You hear a knock on your bedroom door. The moment you open the door, Levi kneels down and places his forehead on the floor.

“I am so sorry! I'm an embarrassment of a partner. I don't even deserve your forgiveness. But I needed to show you my regret.”

Maybe you were already feeling a little bad for him, but you were also curious to know how far your silence could take him. You turned away from the door, gesturing for him to enter your room.

He enters with mixed feelings, on the one hand he was afraid of what you could do if you wanted to punish him. On the other hand... wasn't he kinda into those things?

But no, you just sit on the bed and use your cell phone to send a message to Levi, asking why he missed the date the day before. You still needed to talk to him, but not yet with your voice that he loves so much. When he happily tells you that it was because of Ruri-chan's event, you look even more upset.

“N-N-N-N-NO WAIT! I'm so sorry! Exchanging you for anyone else, even Ruri-chan is unforgivable! I should have warned you. I wanted to tell you, but it was all so short notice.”

You still didn't say anything and even crossed your arms with a sulky expression. He kneels at your feet and gets so close to your legs that he could even hug them.

“I know that what I did was a complete betrayal, and a wretch like me doesn't deserve another opportunity, but please, just let me hear your voice one last time, even if it's to say that you hate me.”

And you finally break. You know he didn't do it out of spite and you've already punished him enough. You know you're practically torturing him at this point.

Regardless of how you say or show that you forgive him, he will praise you, maybe even cry and if you let him hug you, he will cling to you desperately.

Satan was probably on a bad day. A really bad day. That kind of day where anything irritates him, even you trying to calm him down. And he ended up saying what he would regret the moment you left his side: He told you to shut up.

And that's what you did, but for longer than he was expecting. He realized you were giving him the silent treatment when he came up to you to ask if the two of you could talk alone, so he could apologize to you, and you acted like he wasn't there. He was upset at first, but soon after he realized that that was exactly what led to this situation.

He won't try to talk to you in public again. He's prideful too. He'll wait until you two get home, and you are alone in your room.

You hear a knock on your bedroom door. When you open it, you see Satan with a big bouquet of flowers in his hands. Either they're your favourite flowers, or your favourite colour or anything he knows you would like.

“Would you allow me to speak to you, please?” He wasn't angry, he was sorry and you could see it in his eyes.

You don't answer, but you let him into your room. If you pick up the flowers, he'll be a little more relieved. But if not, he'll put them on the table and get a little more worried.

“I'm so sorry. I should never talk to you like that. I regretted my words the moment you walked out the door. I realize what you are doing, you are doing what I asked you to do, and it tears me apart. I'm not mad at what you're doing to me, I deserve it and worse.” He kneels in front of you and bows his head. “But please tell me what I have to do for you to forgive me. Because no words can mend the ones I used.”

If those words weren't enough for you and you're feeling like he deserves to "suffer" a little more for the way he treated you, you send him a message (he still doesn't deserve to hear your voice) saying that if he's really sorry about that, he could be your cat butler for a day.

He lifts his head and looks at you, blushing slightly. “With a condition: It will be for your eyes and your eyes alone! No making me go to the kitchen or something while any of my brothers is there!”

And if you agree, he will do it. Any request he will fulfill. If you tell him to end his sentences with "Nya" he will do it, partially embarrassed but partially enjoying it.

And at the end of the day, when you finally let him hear your voice again saying that you forgive him, but that you hope it doesn't happen again, he smiles, kiss your hands like a gentleman and asks permission to hug and kiss you again, after so long.

There's a good chance you decided to do this because you started seeing Asmo with more and more succubuses and incubuses.

Well, if he likes being with them so much instead of you, let's see what happens if you prefer to talk to the other brothers instead of him.

He starts the day with no idea what you've decided to do, so he compliments everyone, especially you. And the moment you don't greet him back he knows something is very wrong.

He cannot, nor does he want to, hide how devastated he already is. Of all the demon brothers he is the one who loves attention the most and not getting it from YOU is the worst thing that could happen to him.

In return, you will have ALL his attention. He won't leave you for a second. He needs to know what happened, even if he has to make a dramatic spectacle at your feet.

He will speak to you in the sweetest of voices, calling you all the affectionate names he knows of, even if he has to do so in other languages. Hon, honey, love, darling, Mon cher, mon amour, mi amor, amore mio...

If you just want to talk to him at the House of Lamentation, you'll have to ask the other brothers to basically be your bodyguards. Which will only make the situation worse for Asmo. And more fun for his brothers.

When you get home you tell one of the brothers to tell Asmo that when you are available to talk to him you will send him a message.

You were alone in your room when you sent the message to Asmo saying that you could "talk" in your room. Not a second had passed when he knocked on your door, almost as if he had been waiting in the hallway that entire time.

He’ll walk in like a happy puppy whose owner has finally opened the door for him. He will try to hug you, but you can't give in. You stray, cross your arms and looks in any direction other than at him.

“Why are you being so mean to me?” he asks in that cute, sad voice. “What could someone as cute as me have done to deserve this?”

To continue guarding your voice until he deserves to hear it, you write and send him a message. In it you talk about the succubuses and incubuses with whom he took a ton of photos and posted a bunch of stories, and it started to be much more than normal.

“Aww, my little sheep is jealous, that's so cute!” You turn your back to him. “HA! NO! Wait! I'm sorry! I'm so so sorry! I thought you knew that you are the one I love the most in all three worlds. I love you almost as much as I love myself. I couldn't say no to my fans. Oh, I know! What if we spend a whole day together? What if we went on a special date? I can prepare everything! I'll reserve a table at your favorite restaurant. I can even buy you new clothes if you want.” You turned back to him, but still didn't say anything. “Pwease, talk to me again~ I'm sowwy~”

If you accept his apology and tell him so with your voice, he will hug you and kiss you al over your face. “Ahhh! I missed you so much~!”

Honestly, I can't imagine a single scenario where Beel would do something that would deserve the silent treatment. He's the type to apologize even if it's not his fault. Even if he ate something of yours, he would apologize in the next second.

So, most likely, you and Belphie were just curious to know how Beel would react. And this would probably happen after you had done this to everyone else but him and his brothers wanted to know how he would react.

At breakfast he greets everyone, but you're the only one who doesn't greet him back. And you already feel horrible because you can feel his sad gaze on you.

"(Y/N)? Is everything okay?" he asks in an already apologetic voice. You still don't answer him, and that hurts so much, poor thing.

The other brothers tell Beel to start eating otherwise everyone will be late. But he says he doesn't want to. And everyone looks at him in amazement, except you. He is looking at you and only you, no one else matters, not even the food.

“Are you angry with me? I'm sorry. I'm not sure what I did this time, but I'm sorry. Did I eat something that was yours?” You still don't respond but you're almost at your breaking point. “(Y/N)?” He says your name in the cutest regretful voice that only he could do and you break down.

You turn to him and hug him, apologizing. You explain that he didn't do anything and explain that everything is fine. If you offer him the rest of your breakfast he will be very happy.

But he will be much closer to you for the rest of the day. It hurt him a lot and he just wants to make sure that everything was really okay. He will really like it if you two cuddle a little when your back home.

What could he do to make you mad at him? *cough* Lesson 16 *cough*. Anyway. There's a good chance he's been a little more selfish lately. Always wanting your free time to be spent with him, and try to convince you to fall into the temptation of laziness and exchange your responsibilities for him.

He needed to learn a lesson. He needed to value you more and realize that you are not a guarantee. Let's see what happens if he no longer has you.

He realizes something is wrong when you don't respond to him.

He tries to convince you to talk to him by being cute. That younger brother cuteness that he always uses against his brothers.

When he realizes that this isn't going to work, he isn't exactly going to give up. He will stop trying to convince you with words, yes. But he won't leave your side. He will be almost like a ghost behind you. At least until you all get home.

You'll have to lose him or convince his brothers to help you if you don't want him to follow you to your room the moment you get to the House of Lamentation.

If you manage to do this, you will be bombarded with messages until you finally respond saying he can come talk to you in your room.

He knocks on your bedroom door like he normally does. As soon as you let him in and close the door he will get extremely close to you, but he won't hug you no matter how much he wants to. He knows that could make the situation worse.

“So, what happened?” he asks close to your ear and in his calm voice. “Why are you upset with me?”

You poke your head in a gesture.

“Do you want me to think? To guess? *Sigh* Fine...” he says pouting sadly. “Um... I know you get upset because I make you late with your work. Sorry. I promise I'll stop being so pushy about that. But, you know I want to be with you.”

That was a good start, but it still wasn't enough for you. You had your back turned to him without speaking.

“You know, it really hurts to see you mad at me like this. I miss you.” and then it hits him. “Oh... that’s it, I miss you. I don’t think anyone likes to be seen as a guarantee, right? I'm sorry, for being so selfish with you. You always try to make me happy by giving in to my whims, I should do the same for you more often... I mean, I will do the same for you more often. I promise.” You turn to him, but still don't say anything. “um... What if... tomorrow, I have to give in to whatever whims you have? But go easy on me, okay?”

You accept the deal, and tell him so. He laughs, saying that he already missed hearing your voice so much. And if you let him, he'll hug you.

“We still have a lot of time until dinner, and I miss your cuddles. You're not going to say you didn't miss me too, right? Come on, just a few minutes. I promise I'll spoil you more than you spoil me, he he.”

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

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becsabillion4 · 6 months ago

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false god (we still worship)

pairing: carmen berzatto x f!reader

summary: Carmen has a bad shift, but you’re more than willing to turn his night around and show him exactly how good he is.

word count: 3,362

tags: SMUT, rough sex, unprotected sex, oral sex, creampie, semi-public sex, window sex, lingerie, praise kink, vulnerable Carmy, 18+ only

note: this is explicit 18+ only and yet again NOT an advert for safe sex. with that said, it’s fucking hot ;) and thank you to the wonderful person who submitted the prompt that inspired this, based around Carmy having a tough day and reader taking care of him (even though I’ve failed at tumblr and can’t find the original message). enjoy!!

thesydkid

Yo. Awful shift. Glad you weren’t here to see it.

whochefsouschef

fuckkk what happened?

thesydkid

Newbies think they know better than Tina because they went to CIA. You can imagine how Carmy took that.

whochefsouschef

was it kyle? he’s been like that since he started.

thesydkid

Yeah

Classic

whochefsouschef

syd?

I know that’s not all. kyle doesn’t warrant a text warning

thesydkid

Carm got food sent back.

whochefsouschef

shit.

thanks for the heads up

thesydkid

Good luck, cya tomorrow.

—------------------------------

It’s late, the kind of late where even the drunks winding through the streets have stopped their singing, the kind where it’s already too late to go to bed and get an ounce of good sleep. It’s the kind of late where you would have known it was a bad night even if Sydney hadn’t texted you first, because you know how hard Carmy cleans when he’s upset, and exactly how long that takes.

You sit up in bed abruptly, pushing your hair out of your face and considering your options. You have maybe ten minutes if Sydney texted you as soon as Carmy left, ten minutes to decide how you want to handle this kind of bad day. You feel a surge of frustration that you weren’t on shift tonight. As the Front of House Manager, you could have soothed the moronic, greedy, power-tripping customer who wanted to pull one over on the best chef in Chicago by sending back his perfect food-

Actually, maybe it was for the best you weren’t on shift tonight, or you might no longer have a job.

You smile when you think about how Richie will have handled it though. His courteous, collected energy even as he probably said something like, “Oh, you’d like to send this back? Wow, I’ve never heard a, uh - what do you call ‘em - oh, complaint before. Are you sure you know what this dish is?”

The smile fades when you think about Carmy’s reaction. You push yourself out of bed, decided by the image of his frustration, the anger he uses to hide his sadness. There’s been a few particularly bad shifts since you and Carmy moved in together - and Richie labelled himself as “matchmaker to the stars” for hiring you - and you know that if left to his own devices, Carmy will happily stay up all night stewing.

But you’re here now, and you’re determined not to let him. So you set your plan in motion.

By the time you hear his keys clink in the lock, you’re settled by the sofa, bare skin slightly chilled by the evening air coming in from the cracked window. You glance up as Carmy walks in, catch his eye, and he stops dead, hand still on the lock.

Bluer-than-blue eyes flicker across the scene you’re presenting for him - your best lingerie, your patient kneel, steady eyes - and he straightens from his tired stoop.

“Hey,” he murmurs, eyes still tracing how the lace drapes across your skin in the low light.

“Hi,” you smile. “Join me?”

Without looking away from you, Carmy shuts the door, drops his stuff in a careless pile. “Syd texted?”

“I couldn’t sleep. And I wanted to surprise you.”

Carmy’s eyes drift away from you for a second, glancing around the room, like he does when he’s thinking something through. You can almost hear his brain clicking through the gears. Turning the kitchen off, turning something else on.

“It was bad, sweetheart,” he says. “Fuckin’ shitty.”

“It’s over.” You raise a hand to him, tilt your head towards the sofa. “Get over here and let me do filthy things to you to make up for it.”

He laughs at that, toes off his shoes and takes the few steps to the sofa. He doesn’t sink into the cushions like you expected though, but kneels in front of you. You reach out, run a hand over the side of his face, feel the days-old stubble rasping under your touch. Bringing your other hand up, you cup his face, thumbs tracing over the bags under his eyes like you can smooth them out with that simple touch. You can feel his exhaustion in the way he leans forward into the feeling, and it breaks something in you.

When you kiss him, you intend for it to be careful and slow. Bring him out of his shell, remind him that things outside The Bear exist. But the moment your mouths press together, the moment you nip the edge of his bottom lip, the drained and defeated Carmy is gone.

He surges forward, almost sending you tipping over backwards, arms wrapping around your waist. One hand slides to your lower back, stretching to cover as much of your skin as he can possibly grasp. Pulling you forward, Carmy bows his head to suck a bruise into your throat and you know for damn sure it’ll be visible tomorrow. A glaring mark, a “fuck you” to the rest of the world painted on your skin.

Your hands are far from idle either, and as one pulls at his T-shirt, rucking it up to explore the muscles beneath, you run a finger from the other over the arch of his ear. Carmy shudders in a broad, full-body motion and his hips stutter, jerk forward into you. You both moan at the contact and you want to chase it, feel him pressed between your thighs, but clearly Carmy has other ideas.

He reaches under your arms and pulls you up to stand with him, letting his hands continue their journey down your sides to reach your waist. All you have time to do is gasp as he hoists you off your feet, and he’s already walking towards your floor-length window as you desperately try to wrap your legs around his waist. He doesn’t give you much chance to breathe, the hand not holding you up pushing deep into your hair and curling strands around his fingers so he can pull your head back, press more kisses to the hollow of your throat.

For a dizzying moment, you can see the lights of Chicago upside down, but you manage to pull your head up just before your back hits the cold glass. You hiss at the chill against your bared skin and Carmy runs a hot palm around to your back in apology even as his tongue continues its insistent sweeps against your own.

You barely register the soft clink of his belt, the push and rustle of fabric between you until his cock is pressed close, the only thing keeping it from filling you your own stupid lacy underwear.

With a frustrated groan, Carmy gently lowers you until your feet sink into the carpet, but he still gives you no room to move, pressing you into the misted-up glass as if he can’t tear his body from yours.

“Carmy,” you pant, unsure what you’re asking, but you know he understands when he grabs your upper arm, spins you around to face the view. The glass is warmer now, but still cold enough that the press of your barely-concealed nipples to its surface makes you moan as you hear Carmy kneel, feel him sliding your panties down your legs.

He doesn’t even let them reach your ankles before he’s up again, kissing his way along your spine as he goes, and finally, finally, the head of his cock nestles in where it needs to be.

Its hot and heavy presence has you pushing your hips back, wanting to feel the glorious slide of him, lose yourself in the moment he splits you, and all you can see, eyes half-slitted in pleasure, are the glittering lights of the city below. You live pretty high up and the lights are low enough that none of the busy pedestrians below should see, but all it would really take is a glance up and an observant eye. To see your breasts pressed against the glass, Carmy’s possessive hands gripping your hips as he finally drives into you. Even from this distance, you imagine the pleasure on your own face and your walls flutter around Carmy until he growls, pulls your hands from where they were flat against the window into a bind behind you.

There is nothing kind and gentle about this moment, no give in Carmy’s body as he fucks into you, and you revel in it. Let him take his pain and translate it into pleasure through your body. Let him take and take and take until he has nothing left to give, and let the world see him doing it. Let them see what’s his.

These thoughts alone have you teetering, desperate for a few more strokes, but the surprise of Carmy reaching around to draw lazy circles over your clit as he snarls, “Fucking look at you, look how good you take me,” has you seizing up instantly. You can faintly hear your own surprised cry through the buzzing in your ears, and Carmy’s gasps as he feels you pulsate around him, but you only fully come back to yourself when you press your forehead against the blessedly cool glass.

The strength of your orgasm is enough that your legs are visibly shaking now, and without a word, Carmy bends to scoop up your lower half and pulls you in, cradling you across his front. You close your eyes for a moment, trying to calm your breathing as you push your face into his chest, but before you can even begin to get your head straight, you feel soft sheets on your back as he lowers you to the bed.

He sinks down beside you, and all his desperation from a moment ago is gone as his body finally relaxes. He’s still hard and straining towards you, but the light has dimmed in his eyes, so when you reach for him, it’s to run a hand across his cheek, to bring his eyes to yours. When you move towards him, it’s to curl your legs with his, to press your forehead against his and settle his breathing with your own.

People think Carmy is so used to taking shit that it doesn’t hurt him anymore, but you know. You know how each word drives so deep that he doesn’t know how to take good anymore, how he invites the anger and the aggression of a kitchen into his soul because the alternative is realising that all the shit he’s been through is too awful, too devastating to reconcile. To keep feeling it, so he has no time to wonder what his life would be without it.

You see the weakness and the fear and the vulnerability, and you know how he absorbs the feeling and translates it into his work, how he uses it to fuel him, how he turns the criticism and the insults and the hatred into being better, being perfect, doing a good job.

“You are so wonderful, Carmy,” you murmur, and when he tries to look away, you hold his head still. “Tell me what happened.”

“Nothing. Shit, not really anything.” You’re silent, and he sighs as he caves under the pressure of your gaze. “Back when I was in New York, you remember that chef I told you about?”

You nod, because you know you can’t say anything remotely okay about that particular chef.

“He had this thing, about pasta. Thought he was some kind of expert because he spent, like, three months with Massimo Bottura. We had to boil water from cold every time, for every single batch of pasta we served, and there was this exact amount of salt we had to add. It wasn’t like a teaspoon, it was seven point three grams for every hundred of pasta. And he could fucking tell if you were off, he barely had to taste it. One time I saw him smell somebody’s pasta and tell them they were off by point two.” Carmy’s voice is shaking, and you move your thumb along his cheekbone slowly, calmly, giving him something to root himself to. Remind him he’s not there.

“And I was thinking about it while I was cooking the bucatini, and it’s like he was in the room again, saying the same shit he always did. Watching over my shoulder as I added the salt, and it made me so mad,” Carmy mutters, breaths coming in pants now. “And I didn’t even think, I just added like way too much salt. Enough to fuckin’ ruin it, ‘cos I just wanted to see him choke on it. And then I sent it out.”

You don’t take your eyes from his face as you curl one hand down to straighten the fingers of his, to stop the nails he’s digging deep into his palm from cutting into his skin.

“And of course it got sent back, and Richie apologised and comped their bill, and they didn’t care. But, like, I just sabotaged my own restaurant. My own reputation, becuase I can’t stop fuckin’ thinking about salting pasta,” Carmy finishes in a rush, and he finally meets your eyes.

“Carmy, you’re working in a kitchen every day. It’s no surprise you remember other kitchens you’ve been in, and the kind of behaviour you’ve had to endure. But it’s not that kitchen anymore. This is your kitchen we’re talking about, your space. When you look over your shoulder, he’s not there anymore. Syd is, and she’s got your back. We’re not some pristine, sterile team with no heart. Richie’s there.” You feel a surge of emotion so strong for the brilliant, vulnerable man in front of you that you push your face into his shoulder, hard enough that he has to steady himself from falling back onto the bed. His other hand comes up to card loosely through your hair, and you suppress a soft noise of comfort to finish with, “I’m there.”

“I know, baby,” he responds, pulling you closer until you’re practically curled into his lap. “And I think it’ll get easier, it’s already easier. I just don’t think I’ll ever entirely stop sabotaging myself. I’m not like the food I make, I’m not composed and-and, perfect. I’m not, uh, not always good at stuff.”

“Okay, but you’re good plenty of the time,” you whisper, looking up at him. You smile as he glances down, catches your eye. “I could go on for days about the stuff you’re good at.”

“Oh yeah?” Carmy murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead, down and round the edge of your face to the shell of your ear. You shiver instinctively, press into the feeling.

“You’re good at that. Good at getting me out of control,” and your voice is already shaking.

“You’re not out of control, babe. I’ve got you. You’re mine,” Carmy is muttering inbetween kisses as he rolls you onto your back, pins your arms to your sides with his legs and begins to fully slide off your lingerie, slowly, carefully. His hands are, as always, steady. You remember all the times you’ve watched him roll a cigarette, piece together edible art as flames lick at his chef’s whites, and you can’t remember a time you’ve seen them shake.

From the eye of the storm he’s creating in you, you watch as he slides down the bed, skimming his lips across your trembling thighs until he sits back, and moves his hands to your knees.

You can almost feel the pleasure it gives him as, at the lightest touch from him, you part your legs, let him see what he does to you. What he has done. When he growls, you realise he can see remnants of your earlier escapade against the window at your entrance, his come marking you.

When Carmy dips his finger inside you, your hips jerk towards him, but he holds them down with one hand. His finger delves deep for a moment, and then leaves you suddenly, but before you can protest, he brings his hand to your face, offers you the digit. You’re entranced by the silent command in his eyes, and with no hesitation, you open your mouth and let Carmy’s come-covered finger slide inside, press deep towards the back of your throat. When you swallow, the bitterness makes you moan, envision being on your knees for Carmy, his fingers twined so deep into your hair it hurts, feeling his white-hot heat at the back of your throat.

It breaks whatever tension was stretched taut between you, and Carmy wraps his arms around your legs, pulls your body towards him and lowers his face between your thighs. For a moment, he teases you, nibbling at the juncture where your leg curves into your hip, skimming his teeth across the bone, but you know he’s secretly just as impatient as you are, and when he takes his first tender lick across your clit, he moans even louder than you do.

Giving head is an art for Carmy, and feels like a privilege to you. You’ve seen him enjoy food in the kitchen, give somebody that blown-away glance that they’ve worked their whole lives to see, but he never takes more than one bite.

But this, with you, as you watch him devour you whole...It’s the only meal you’ve ever watched him finish.

Tongue swirling delicately across your center, breaking for hungry kisses to your thighs as his hands grasp at any inch of you he can reach, you can’t help the words that spill from you, “yes, yes, Carmy, you’re so good, you make me feel so good, my good boy, please-“, but you can’t continue as he slides two fingers deep inside your aching pussy, so deep you don’t ever want him to move.

At this point in the erotic novels you read during your lunch break (which, if Fak were to find them, would spell the end of your career), the heroine says something about how it feels like hours pass with her lover between her legs. But this is real life, and all Carmy has to do is mutter, “Finish for me baby, finish for me,” for you to come embarrassingly quickly.

You’re practically incoherent on the comedown, and all you can summon the strength to do is pull him into you, press kisses to his forehead and mumble over and over how fucking amazing he makes you feel.

“If you lose everything else, Carmy, if you ever think there isn’t a thing in this world you’re any good at, just know that you are a god at giving head,” you pant eventually, and when he pushes his face into your neck, you can feel his smile there.

For a moment more, you just enjoy the press of his body against yours, revel in the sweat and slick between you. It dawns on you slowly just how slick it feels, and you gasp as you realise-

“Carmy, did you-?”

Carmy laughs into your skin, tracing one hand across your chest idly until you shiver. “Yeah. You, uh, you were moaning and telling me how good I was and…it was hot.”

You laugh with him breathlessly, still kind of in awe at how well you fit after all this time, how at home you feel with him. “Well, I hope that made your bad day a little better.”

Carmy is silent for a second before he murmurs, “You have no idea what you do for me,” and you can see the shine of his eyes in the glitter of the city lights filtering through your window. “There can never be a bad day if I end it right here, in this bed, in your arms.”

You would reply, but he’s kissing you into silence before you can, and you wonder for a moment if any words will ever need to be said between you and Carmy again, or whether you can communicate all the fear, all the anger, all the love, just with kisses and touch and his lips against yours. But eventually, as you slip into sleep with his body twined around yours, you decide that tongues were made for more than just talking.

#becsabillion #carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #Carmen berzatto x ofc #the bear #the bear fanfiction #carmy the bear #fanfic #fanfiction #smut #carmen berzatto smut #jeremy allen white #the bear fandom

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undressrehearsal · 3 months ago

Text

right back where we started

summary: ellie is on tour as the opener for a popular band. she begrudgingly passes through the hometown that she had sworn she would never see again and runs into the one good thing she left behind.

tags: some sad stuff, ellie has daddy issues, mentions of alcohol, modern au, not rockstar ellie but that same kinda genre???, no smut in this one sorry this is all setting the scene, this is another shorter one 3.6k words

a/n: listen. I'm gonna level with yall. life's been fucking insane. it's been what 3 months since I posted something?? and it's because 1. my fiancée and I are buying a house 2. and planning a wedding 3. I work 45 hour weeks (at a job I hate so much omg) 4. I'm writing a book and 5. I'm preparing for a p major surgery (I go on tuesday)

so yeah, life's been insane. but I missed writing fics. I'm writing my book so I never stopped writing but writing a lil fun fic just hits different yk?

anyway enjoy and look forward to a few (I'm thinking 3?) parts of this

love yall. reply and lmk if you wanna be added to my tag list. also I'm posting this on my phone so the formatting might be fucked lmk

part 1

Ellie couldn’t remember the last time she had been in this city.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She could remember exactly the last time she had been in this city. She had watched it disappear in her mirror when she had driven her bike west three years ago in search of the horizon. She had hoped she would find something more once she got there - more than the dingy dorm room she had loosely called home and the classes that had made her eyes glaze over; something more than playing at the bar’s open mic nights, her guitar hard to hear over the noisy din of drunk students and drunker professors; something more than a future that had been planned for her by the time she was in high school.

Her dad had kicked her out after she dropped out, of course, but that was fine. She had planned to leave that night anyway; she had kept a packed bag hidden underneath her bed for months. She hadn’t seen him in three years, either, and she planned to keep it that way.

But when she woke up and saw the city outside the bus window, silhouetted against the rising sun, something in her chest rose to her throat and refused to be swallowed back down.

She hadn’t missed it - but as she looked down at her shaking hands, Ellie figured her body must not have gotten that memo.

The band she was traveling with were still sleeping; she could hear the singer snoring in her bunk, could see the bassist's leg sticking out into the aisle. She had never been a morning bird - back at her shitbox apartment, you'd rarely catch her up before noon - but something about being stuck on a bus for days made her restless. It was her first time touring - after three years of playing at open mics and taking small jobs singing at the senior center - and she wasn't used to feeling her own bed constantly shifting beneath her.

Which is how she always ended up pacing the length of the bus, tapping her fingers against her thighs as the confined world around her slept, waiting desperately for the driver to pull off to whatever venue they had booked. She wasn't sure what the band did before their shows in the evenings, but she didn't stick around long enough to ask. Maybe it was rude, but she couldn't force herself to hang out with the band who only chose her because their usual opener had “flaked” on them - which was how they described it when the opener couldn't travel with them for several months after their mother had just died.

So, yeah, Ellie couldn’t find it in herself to feel bad about it when she rushed off the bus as soon as it parked, not even sticking around to let the band know where she was going. They wouldn't care either way. Hell, they were probably so hungover they wouldn't wake up until their show started in several hours.

The driver - his name was Zachary (never Zach) and he was the only one who paid her any mind - helped Ellie hoist her bike down from the rack on the back of the bus. The band had teased her about bringing it, bitching about how it showed she didn't want to hang out with them. She had been tempted to tell them they were right, but she couldn't really risk losing the first real gig she’d gotten. She lifted the seat and dug her helmet out, waving to Zachary as he disappeared back into the bus to get his own well-deserved rest.

The purr of the bike was a familiar comfort beneath her. Lowering the visor of her helmet to block out the sun, she squinted at the streets sprawled before her. She realized, with dizzying familiarity, that she was in the next neighborhood over from her old apartment. Hell, she had watched a few shows at the venue she was playing at - something in her stomach clenched.

Fuck, she needed coffee.

With the wind cold against her bare arms, Ellie let the world fly by, the city waking up around her. Her phone remained snuggly in her bag; she didn't need directions here, the familiar streets leading her down well-worn paths, winding all the way back to a life that was no longer hers.

It was muscle memory that led her back to the coffee shop she had frequented as a student. She looked up at it, a glow around its worn brick from the rising sun, and something tightened in her chest. They had replaced the patio chairs - the old ones had been practically falling apart three years ago - but otherwise it hadn't changed.

Ellie cursed under her breath, swallowing around the foreign lump in her throat, and climbed off her bike. When she took the steps two at a time, it felt like somebody else had taken the wheel. It was a familiar stranger that opened the door.

The smell hit her first. They say that scent has the strongest tie to memory, and the smell of burnt coffee beans hit her like a punch. There had always been a sweetness underneath it, something she had never been able to place but thought might be honey? When she stepped up to the counter, she could even smell the milk they were steaming.

The barista - a young girl with faded pink hair tied up into space buns - looked up from her phone and said, in a voice teetering on the edge between cheerful and bored, “How’s it going?”

Ellie took her in briefly, noting the brown corduroy overalls and the star-shaped nose ring, and was comforted knowing that this place was just as queer as she had left it. She would bet money on the fact that if she peeked over the counter, this girl would be wearing beat up Docs. She was young enough to be a student - probably an English major, if she had to guess.

She always ordered the same thing - iced mocha with oat milk. She had never understood why her dad drank his coffee black.

The barista - her tag said Dianna She/Her/Hers - eyed her as she rang Ellie up, brows quirked. When she smiled, dimples caved her cheeks. “I haven’t seen you around before. Are you a student?”

Ellie fought the urge to groan - this girl was just trying to be friendly (and was probably trying to decide if Ellie’s flannel meant she was gay or was just a bad fashion choice), but the last thing she wanted to do after failing to sleep on a bus and waking up at the ass-crack of dawn was to make small talk.

Still, she smiled and said, “I used to be.”

She paid and stuffed the remainder of her cash into the tip jar. When Dianna thanked her, her cheeks were as pink as her hair. Ellie could feel her eyes lingering on her as she walked away, nodding awkwardly in thanks.

This place really hadn’t changed in three years. The coffee shop had a reputation of students writing all along the walls - over a decade ago, they had simply stopped trying to paint over it, so the walls were littered in signatures and drawings and claims of call this number for a good time. Scattered poetry was written along the edges of the windows, an incredibly detailed Sharpie drawing of a cat peeking over the top of the doorway. When she searched for it, she found that her own scrawled handwriting was still there, small letters where nobody would think to look, right underneath the thermostat: Find me where the sun sets east. Don’t forget me.

She swallowed the lump that threatened to choke her and stepped away. Her eyes stung from sleep deprivation and nothing more.

Ellie scanned the room and found that, to her annoyance, nearly every table was taken. Students huddled around notebooks and laptops, engrossed in their work or else on Netflix to avoid studying. Professors blinked wearily, clutching their own cups of coffee as though they were lifelines holding them to this realm. Ellie could see the spot she had frequented herself - a booth tucked by the window, where she could write her songs in a dingy notebook without anyone looking over her shoulder.

Now, there was a guy with his cheek pressed to the cold surface, snoring lightly.

Ellie jumped when Dianna called her name, holding out a cup so filled with coffee that it trickled over the side and down the glass. Ellie took it gingerly, holding it in careful fingers to not spill any more on the countertop.

Dianna held onto the cup for several seconds longer than necessary, her fingers - cold from the glass - lingering on Ellie's. When a crooked smile pulled at her lips, her brown eyes sparkled. There was a teasing tilt to her voice when she said, “I hope to see you around, Ellie.”

Ellie gave her what she hoped was a friendly smile - judging by the way Dianna’s cheeks bloomed pink, she must have succeeded - before turning away. She almost felt guilty for the relief she felt when she found there was no phone number left on her glass this time. She was never sure whether it was nicer to ghost somebody or to send a gentle rejection through text, and she did not have the energy for that decision.

She turned, searching for an empty seat to slouch in and try not to fall asleep into her coffee, when her eyes found you.

You hadn’t changed a bit.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true either. You had changed - anybody would in three years. You had changed your hair, and now you dressed differently than she remembered - you used to bitch so much about how you couldn’t dress how you wanted, and now, looking at you three years later, she was happy to see that you were finally dressing like all those pictures you had saved in your little Pinterest folder of “outfit inspo.”

Ellie could see the mark of three whole years, but truthfully, you hadn’t changed. You were slouched over a laptop, leaning way too close to the screen, and you still had that pinch between your brows when you concentrated, the one that she used to run her thumb over; she could still feel how soft your skin was beneath her fingers.

She should have ignored you - she should have gone to slump in a corner of the coffee shop like she had planned, trying not to fall asleep into her cup and pretending to not notice you even as her eyes kept cutting across the cafe to find you again. She should have pushed the memories away just like she had pushed away all of the other memories associated with this city - hell, she should have never come back to this city in the first place. There were too many memories here that she had spent three years, a thousand miles, and an ocean of whiskey running away from.

And yet Ellie found her feet carrying her over to your table of their own volition. She walked the tightrope between who she is and who she once was, chasing a memory of the only good thing she left behind.

You didn’t look up at her as she approached. You kept your head bowed over your laptop, your bottom lip stuck between your teeth. There was no reason for you to look up - Ellie could have been any nameless stranger coming to bother you when you were clearly just trying to work.

But Ellie had never been good at leaving well enough alone. Which is why she hesitated for only a moment before reaching out and tapping lightly on your shoulder. She had to bite back a laugh when you jumped, pulling your headphones from your ears and swiveling around to look up at her.

She’d be lying if she said her heart didn’t do an embarrassing acrobatic jump when you met her eyes. And she had always been a terrible liar.

“Hey,” Ellie said, trying her damnedest to keep her voice steady; she only somewhat succeeded. She cleared her throat, lowering her voice when she said, “Remember me?”

Satisfaction bloomed warm in her stomach when your eyes widened, taking in the sight of her. Truthfully, she must’ve looked like shit; she had had to take a disturbingly brief shower at the last rest stop - the water apparently didn’t get any warmer than antarctic - and she hadn’t looked in a mirror for a few days. She had forgotten to pack her brush, so her hair must have been standing up at odd angles. And God knew what the lack of sleep was doing to the ever-growing shadows under her eyes.

But none of this stopped you from running your eyes down her body, cheeks pink when you finally looked up to meet her eyes again. And Ellie couldn’t stop the slow smile that spread across her face, her own cheeks growing warm. It wasn’t intentional when her voice dropped another octave, nearly a murmur when she said, mostly to herself, “Yeah, you remember me.”

“Holy shit, Ellie?” You jumped to your feet, a smile pulling at your lips as you gripped her arm. The familiar shine in your eyes did something funny to her stomach that she was way too stubborn to name. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I was just, uh- just passing through town,” she found herself saying, rubbing at the back of her neck. It wasn’t exactly a lie, but explaining to you the actual reason she finally came back to this hell-hole town suddenly seemed daunting. “Wanted to check out some old haunts, I guess.”

And then you just… looked at her, for several long moments - long enough to make Ellie squirm. Your eyes bore into hers, searching for something that she had buried three years ago.

You jumped, and whatever spell that was floating between you broke when your phone buzzed from where it still sat on the table. You scooped it up and flashed an apologetic smile to the glaring student a few seats away. Swiping at the screen, you cursed under your breath:

“Fuck, I have to get to class.” You looked back up at her again, a question behind your eyes, and Ellie had never wished so hard that she could read minds. You hesitated for only a moment before saying, words rushed, “Do you want to walk with me?” Before Ellie could respond, you continued, picking up your cup and fiddling with the straw, “It feels like forever since I’ve seen you and I want to catch up. But you’re probably busy, so you don’t have to-”

“I’d love to,” she cut you off, trying to smother the smile that pulled at her pink cheeks. She failed drastically when you smiled back at her.

After asking for a to-go cup from Dianna - thankfully no number written on the plastic cup either, despite the way the barista eyed Ellie as she left - she followed you out the door and back into the blinding morning sun. The mid-October air bit at her cheeks, creeping under her flannel; the cold coffee in her hand made her fingers sting, but you were already walking away, so she grit her teeth and followed.

And it was like you both just fell back into place, aligning with each other as though that empty space had never existed. You were working towards your graduate degree, Ellie discovered, and were working as a TA to get through; the class you were heading to was the dreaded public speaking class that you taught around your own curriculum. You laughed as you talked about some ridiculous speech a student had recently presented, and Ellie had forgotten just how much she liked the sound until it was burying behind her ribs again.

Ellie didn't tell you exactly why she had come back. When she’d left, you had known she was chasing a dream - it was the main reason she had presented when she broke up with you. The idea of long distance was too hard - too complicated - and Ellie didn’t want anything tying her to this town.

Even so, her body still wanted to fall into old habits. She told you about her roommate and how, when Ellie had been up too late writing a new song or her roommate had had a late shift at the hospital, they would play truth or dare until they were too drunk to stay awake, and her fingers brushed against yours, muscle memory making her reach for you. Ellie told you how she had visited her sister, Sarah, while passing through Houston, and she wanted so badly to lace your fingers together. She wanted to wrap her arm around your waist - hell, she even wanted to grab your ass right where everyone could see, just like she used to. She tucked her free hand in her pocket.

“You still haven’t told me why you came back,” you said, coming to a stop in front of the Communications building - it was just as tall and ominous as Ellie remembered. Her stomach lurched at the site, remembering all the speeches she had to make in her own classes. She supposed Public Speaking wasn’t a useless class now, considering she didn't stutter when she had to speak in front of an audience now.

Ellie shrugged, dropping her cup into a trashcan without looking at you. “Like I said, I’m just passing through-”

“Bullshit,” you said, but there was no malice behind it. You tilted your head to meet her eyes and smiled at her, even as your eyes held something unreadable. “The Ellie I knew couldn’t wait to get out of this shithole - her words, not mine. She wouldn’t simply pass through - she would go out of her way to stay in the next town over. So,” you crossed your arms, “what changed?”

Before, if you had ever crossed your arms at her, Ellie would reach out and gently pull your arms away from your chest, pulling you into an embrace. She wanted nothing more than to pull you into her, instinct unaware of the three years and a thousand miles that had separated you. Instead, she leaned against the wall of the building, the brick biting into her back. “Nothing’s changed. Trust me, if it was up to me, I wouldn't be here.”

For only a second, your face twisted into something unreadable that pulled at Ellie's stomach. But you quickly schooled your expression, tilting your head, your smile soft. “Listen, I have to go - if I'm too late, these fuckers are just gonna try to skip. But we should meet up later - I want to catch up.” When Ellie opened her mouth to say you had been catching up, you continued, “Really catch up. I want you to tell me everything - it's been years, so we have a lot to cover.” You looked at your phone and cursed. “Look, my last class ends at 3:25. Meet me on the green after?” For good measure, you stuck out your bottom lip and added, “Please?”

Ellie had never been good at resisting that look - she had given into you so many times from that look alone. She had to bite back the sudden, stupid smile pulling at her cheeks, so she pressed her lips together and looked away. After three years, you still made her cheeks flush without trying.

“Okay,” was all she could say.

Without warning, you rushed forward, wrapping your arms around her neck briefly. Her hands hovered at your sides, unsure of where to go. Feeling your body pressed against her again - feeling the warm brush of your breath against her neck - short-circuited her brain, leaving her gasping on dry land.

Before she could figure out where to put her fucking hands, you murmured in her ear, “I really did miss you, Els,” and pulled away, just as quickly as you had come. Ellie's mouth hadn't even caught up to her brain by the time you were gone, the door closing softly behind you.

Later, after she had had a proper breakfast from McDonald's, she was still thinking about you. Seeing you again had opened up a bottle that she had sealed away, and the cork wouldn't fit back into it. Her fingers itched with the memory of your skin beneath them. When you had hugged her, she had smelled the shampoo that you apparently still used, and she remembered how it had felt to have your head on her chest, breathing you in as she pressed a kiss to the top of your head. And your lips next to her ear - that opened a whole subcategory of memories that she tried desperately to push away.

She was only here for the night. She lost count of how many times she had to remind herself.

Ellie was stopped at a red light, leaning her bike from one foot to the other, when she felt her phone buzz in her pocket. She glanced at the blinking crosswalk sign - twenty seconds, so she still had plenty of time before the light turned green - before fishing her phone out. She had to squint against the sun, straining to make out the screen. She nearly dropped the phone when she saw the familiar name popping up on her screen, fumbling to open the text.

There was a screenshot of an Instagram post from the venue she was going to play at. The band's name was in bold letters, stars pasted around a grainy picture of the group. And in small letters underneath - like an afterthought - was her name: Ellie Miller.

And underneath, in all caps:

YOU'RE PLAYING AT THE HAWTHORNE?????

Her face flushed all over again. After all these years, you had still kept her number.

tag list: @macaroni676 @ellstronaut @elliewilliamsmiller0 @elliescoolerwife @letsreadsomesins-shallwe @liliflowers-blog @filtered-sunlight

#ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie the last of us #ellie x reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie x you #ellie tlou2 #ellie the last of us 2 #ellie miller #the last of us #tlou #tlou fanfiction #tlou2 #the last of us fanfiction #ill have to add this to my masterlist when i get back to my computer in a few days

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myfictionaldreams · 1 year ago

Note

hi! i loved pain over pleasure! especially the part where there’s sexual interactions between the three men other than just focusing on the reader. i’d like to request something slightly similar. reader gets punished by watching sirius suck remus and r can’t do anything than just sit and watch. then james walks in and instead of going to reader to save her from moony’s punishment (like he usually does) he joins the other two. it’s totally okay if you don’t go through with this. i just really loved pain over pleasure. thanks!!!!

Horny Little Devil // Poly!Marauders x Fem!Reader

A/N: Thank you so much for the request and for showing your love with Pain Over Pleasure!

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, dom/sub, bdsm, brat reader, punishment, teasing, edging, restraints, begging, deepthroat/oral sex, cum swallowing, cum sharing, anal sex, vibrators, overstimulation, subspace, pet names, being ignored, anxiety not beta read

Words:3.3 k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

Needy was the word you would use to describe your feelings today. Sirius on the other hand would describe you as a horny little devil, but could he truly blame you? Dating the three Marauders meant that you were almost always attached to one of them whether it be holding hands, in their laps in front of the fire or on your knees with their cock in your mouth. However this morning, the three of them had been rushing around to attend lessons that they’d forgotten about their poor needy girlfriend so really…could Sirius blame you for wanting to be with them?

Maybe you were being a little full-on with your neediness, instead of whispering and asking nicely to see Sirius, grabbing him by his collar and pushing him into a spare room to suck him off. Sirius only chuckled in a condescending tone, tugging on your hair to snap your attention up to him, your bottom lip sticking out with pretend sadness as he stopped your attempts to undo his belts.

“Stop being such a brat and listen to me, otherwise you aren’t going to get what you want, Darling”.

You sat back on your heels, looking up at him with wide eyes, “You haven’t been giving me what I want, that’s the issue!”

Sirius’ eyes darkened and you knew that sassing back to him maybe wasn’t the best idea so you quickly shut your mouth, a move that seemed to please him as the corner of his lip tipped up into a smirk, his shoulder-length hair falling to shadow half of his face. “I was tempted to let you carry on if you didn’t continue with that smart mouth of yours and anyway, we don’t have time, we’ll probably be late to class now because of this interruption so well done Sweetheart. Now, you’re on your last chance, any more bratty behaviour and you’ll be punished”.

You shrunk away from him, losing your confidence and beginning to stare at the floor, realising your mistake and not wishing to be punished, but you just wanted to feel them. Sirius let go of your hair and tapped a finger under your chin, tilting your face back up so you were looking at him once more, his sleek eyebrow raised in question, “Do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir. I’m sorry Sirius”.

Sirius nodded, holding a hand out which you took and he helped you to stand, brushing the dust from your knees and moved back towards the door but he held you back for one second with a gentle hand on your arm. You looked up at him with a confused expression but soon sighed as he leaned down to peck your lips, lingering for a second before pulling back. “Sorry it’s been such a rush this morning, I promise later we’ll look after you. Just listen to us, and we can all get what we want, ok?”

You agreed with a grin, capturing his lips one more time before he held the door open for you.

Your self-restraint lasted for a mind-blowing 25 minutes. This one really wasn’t your fault though as Remus had decided it was a good idea to rest his strong hand against your thigh, under your skirt, his hot palm directly against your skin. The tallest marauder knew exactly what the touch would do and didn’t remove it even as you turned into a dribbling mess, hugging his arm closer to your body and refusing to do the work because you were so distracted.

“My love, we have an exam at the end of the week, you need to take notes”, Remus whispered against the top of your head, but you ignored him, holding him closer, trying to push his hand higher up your thigh. However, he instead squeezed the muscle, “I know you’re needy right now but need to do your work”, Remus continued to encourage.

“Is someone being a brat again?” Sirius asked from behind as he leaned over his desk towards you and Remus.

Remus kept his voice low as he asked, “Again? She’s been a brat already today?”

“Yeah, we had a little run-in, in the spare classroom on the way here, didn’t we Sweetheart?” Sirius whispered in response. You tried not to whine as your grip relaxed, realising that you’d been caught and there was one thing that Remus and Sirius did not forget was that they always kept to their word.

“Mr Black, is there a problem over there?”, Professor McGonagall’s voice interrupted the quiet conversation.

“No Professor”, Sirius replied cooly, sitting back in his chair.

Remus continued writing for a couple of seconds before saying under his breath, “We’ll talk about this later”.

Only when later came, there was no talking involved. After watching James practice quidditch for an hour or so, Sirius suggested to you and Remus about going to the shrieking shack for some alone time whilst James finished, which you were more than happy to agree to, practically dragging both men by their hands in the direction of the decrepit building.

However, once there, you were stripped of your clothes and tied to the head of the bed with your wrists attached to the posts with both men’s ties and your legs were spread, exposing your soaked pussy.

“Do you remember our earlier conversation?”, Sirius asked, stroking a teasing hand up your inner thigh, already seeing the evidence of arousal with how wet you were.

“Ye-Yes”, you admitted, breathing quickly with increasing anxiety.

“So you know why we are doing this?”, he continued, making sure you had clarification as to why you were being tied up. They always made sure to do this, even when you were misbehaving the most to get to this point, you had to understand why the punishment was taking place and that your safewords were always there to use if needed. It all added to the overall experience and even though there was nothing you wanted more than to be touched and caressed by any of your boyfriends, you trusted them above anyone else and would continue to go through the punishment for this reason.

So after you’d explained why this was happening and reiterated at this could stop at any moment if you wished.

Sirius seemed happy with your answers and glanced over his shoulder at Remus who was sitting in a chair next to the bed, his legs spread wide and a noticeable bulge in his trousers. The man smiled, his scars stretching with the movement as he reached into his pocket and pulled out one of your favourite toys: your rose gold bullet vibrator, a present from James for Valentine's Day. Waving his wand, the vibrator magically floated through the air, only stopping mid-air when the cool metal touched your clit.

Sirius then placed your panties into your mouth to stop you from begging and climbed off of the bed and you had to watch as he approached Remus, his long hair framing his face as he leant down to make out of the other man. From this angle, you could only see the back of Sirius as he leaned over, but you could hear it all, the noises of their lips, the gasps and moans.

Your wrists stung slightly as you tested the hold, tugging on the ties that held you, hoping that maybe one of them would be loosened enough that you could pull free but they only tightened and you stopped your wasted efforts. Collapsing back against the headboard, you tried to calm yourself down but your body felt like it was on fire, sweat already coating it, eyes burning as you didn’t want to blink and miss a single moment of the teasing that was happening.

Even though there was nothing more you wanted at that moment than to be untied and join in with Sirius and Remus, the sight of them touching, and pleasuring one another was something you would store at the back of your mind for days you wanted to make yourself feel better. It was so erotic and hot that your pussy was twitching and clenching around nothing, juices dripping down your perineum, with the destination to soak the sheets.

Sirius dropped to his knees, settling in comfortably before swiftly undoing Remus’ belt, button and zipper and opening the material up, giving him room to reach into the hole of his checkered underwear and expose his throbbing member. As Sirius was on his knees, you were able to see Remus’ impressive cock, standing thick and proud, veins pulsing and ready to be touched.

You must have audibly made a noise as Remus suddenly looked up at you, a look of surprise on his face as he had momentarily forgotten that you were even in the room but then he rolled his wand in between his fingers and smirked. Sirius raised further on his knees, one hand resting against Remus’ thigh and the other holding the base of his cock and finally gave one solid lick up the entire length.

The moment Sirius’ wet tongue touched Remus’ cock, the wand in his hand flicked slightly, magically turning on the vibrator that still floated against your bundle of nerves. You groaned at the sensation, the buzz light and the pressure weren’t enough to drive you crazy just yet but you knew that he was just warming you up, even though you were already thoroughly aroused.

Remus kept his wand pointed towards you, controlling the vibrator, but his other hand was holding back Sirius’ hair, watching as he was hungrily sucking off. It was one thing Sirius prided himself in was the lack of gag reflex he had, being able to take the entire length of Remus, something you could never do and envied the Gryffindor for.

You tried to beg around your panties but all that could be heard was muffled cries, the material making your mouth incredibly dry so you tried to look sadly at Remus, your eyes sad and lower lip trembling as your hips rolled to try and push harder against the floating metal object, wishing to feel more.

Sirius’s head bobbed up and down quickly, his cheeks sucking and causing slurping noises that felt so good to Remus, his shaft throbbing with the movements. “Feel so good when you do that Padfoot, just like that”, Remus encouraged, letting his eyes drop close. “Do you think we should let our little pup join us?” Remus asked, still lost in the pleasure.

Sirius pulled off with an audible pop, a grin spreading across his face - not that you could see from your position - and responded with a simple: “Nope”, before swallowing Remus’ cock again.

Remus bite his lip at the sensation and opened his eyes as he flicked his wand again, the vibrations increasing tenfold, completely overwhelming your entire pussy, feeling them deep in your abdomen causing you to scream out in euphoria. Your body jolted at the pleasure, hips bucking wildly, pussy clenching, wishing it was full with fingers or a cock. Not that you truly were fussy at that moment as your orgasm built swiftly, feeling like a cord tightening in your abdomen, the walls of your cunt squeezing together, you were so close, still watching Sirius pleasure Remus, who had now opened his eyes and was watching you closely, assessing when you were just…about…to … cum.

And then he magiced the vibrator away from your body and your peaked fluttered away to nothingness, and now it truly dawned on you what sort of punishment they were giving you: edging. This was one of your least favourite punishments, especially added to the fact that you had to watch your boyfriends find their own pleasures.

Your thighs were trembling as you cried out, head dropping against your shoulder as you tried to regain some composure but then the vibrator was back on the low setting and pressing against your clit.

Your mewling begs were cut off however as James walked in, still wearing his quidditch uniform and a small sly smile on his face as he took in the sight of you tied to the bed, being pleasured by the sex toy and Remus being blown by Sirius on a chair.

“I could hear her from outside”, he admitted towards Remus before heading towards the bed, sitting at the edge near you. “Poor baby, you look so desperate, do you want some help?”, he cooed, stroking a hand up your inner thighs.

You nodded your head desperately, moaning wishing you could say yes yes yes. James thankfully was usually the one to give in to your begging, always undoing your restraints first, or helping you find your satisfaction so seeing him here now, you had no doubts that he would be doing the same for you now, after all, he hadn’t really seen you being a brat today.

All hope was lost however as he leaned forward, kissed your cheek and walked over to his boyfriends, dropping to his knees beside Sirius who had sifted to the side, giving him some room, and he began to pleasure Remus as well.

You groaned in frustration, realising you were very much stuck there and had to watch a sight you wanted to desperate be a part of.

Sirius and James licked up the length of Remus’ cock, both men then making out around the tip and you don’t know who groaned louder, you or Remus. Then whilst one man swallowed the thick length, the other would be sucking on the balls, working together to bring Remus to his own orgasm.

All the whilst, Remus kept up his torturous game of turning up the vibration level and just as you were about to cum, taking all the pleasure away.

3 times he had done this now, your juices were leaking onto the sheets below, your entire body trembling as you begged in your mind to please let you cum but of course, they didn’t let you. Your cunt was beginning to become puffy with stimulation and your throbbing clit was aching from the toy and you’d physically jolt and pull away as it always came back to hover against you. You were exhausted, your body drained of energy, your head feeling fuzzy and floaty as your needs drifted your thoughts into a space-like consciousness.

But you still continued to watch your boyfriends, hoping that the small act would mean your punishment would be over quicker because you were continuing to be good but it only made it harder to stay calm. You felt like you were just in the constant heightened state of being wanting to cum, hardly having much time to rest.

Remus suddenly shifted, his hips thrusting up harshly into the back of James’ mouth, his hand releasing its hold on Sirius’ hair to instead hold onto the back of James, keeping his head there, “Fuck Prongs, that’s it, stay right there”, he grunted, his eyes clenching closed as he came. James held still, taking the load to the back of his mouth and only pulling back when Remus sighed, his hand relaxing and letting go of the back of his head. “Did you swallow?” Remus asked with half-lidded eyes.

You couldn’t see but you knew that James had opened his mouth and revealed that he hadn’t swallowed because the next moment he was leaning over and heavily kissing Sirius, his cum coated tongue swiping against the other mans so they both had to swallow.

Remus groaned at the sight, tucking his half-soft, wet cock back into his trousers, trying to also catch his breath before glancing over the men towards you and you couldn’t hold back the sob anymore, not wishing to ruin the moment but seeing his attention had turned to you, it was almost too much.

You’d been edged against during his orgasmic scene, you were starting to become sore with belly aches with how much you’d been clenching your cunt and wanting to feel that high more than anything in the world.

Standing from his chair and rolling his shoulders, Remus stepped between his two boyfriends and finally came out to you, shimming behind your body so your back was against his chest. Your head lolled back against his shoulder as he nuzzled into your neck, reaching around your front so that he could pull out your panties from your mouth, the cool air drying your mouth further as you didn’t have the energy to close it.

“You’ve done so well sweetheart, do you want to cum? I’m gonna need you to tell me”, Remus whispered against the skin of your cheek, hands idly stroking circles against your stomach as he spooned around your body.

You were nodding tiredly before even talking, half aware that deep moans were coming from the other end of the bed from James being bent over and fucked by Sirius. “Please can I cum, Remus?” you asked, voice croaky from exhaustion and dryness.

“What do you think Padfoot?” Remus asked, looking up at Sirius who was slowing his pace, his hips rolling in and out, teasing James who was touching himself from his bent-over position.

Sirius blew a piece of hair from his face as he looked over at you, feeling somewhat sorry that you’d been edged for so long, “yeah go on then, seeing as she’s been such a good girl”.

You wanted to thank him profusely for his beautiful words but couldn’t muster up the energy to say them, instead completely allowing your body to relax back into Remus. Your boyfriend's long fingers delved over your mound, groaning at how wet and used you were.

“You’ve done so well for us pup, I’m not going to stop ok, you can cum for us”, Remus reassured as he pressed two fingers against your overstimulated clit, rolling it in his fingers, back and forth, the pressure firm and steady. With his other hand, he waved his wand again and all of your restraints untied so you were now fully collapsed against him, eyes closed, mouth open with a string of curses and whimpers escaping.

It didn’t take you long at all, still remaining at that heightened-edged sensation, Remus held you close as you finally came, body spasming as you were so overwhelmed with how to react and control yourself. “That’s it, let go for us, I’ve got you”, Remus continued to encourage and you were thankful for this, letting his voice ground you to the moment.

It felt so good to feel your cunt squeezing in quick bursts, juices coating the tops of your trembling thighs, and your entire body felt like it was burning as your nerves tried to comprehend the stimulation. Finally, as your orgasm began to subside, Remus’ fingers slowed to a stop and you fully collapsed into him, half away that he was moving your body so you were cuddled into his side, legs over his lap and head laying against his chest.

You were just about ready to have a little nap when you heard James gasping as Sirius pounded into him and you forced yourself to stay awake a little bit longer so you could watch both men fuck.

Remus could feel you were still awake as he kissed the top of your head, “pretty aren’t they”, he mumbled against you.

“Mmmm, so so pretty”, you agreed as you watched them both from their standing position, giving Sirius the better position to fuck James and reach around his body to wank his cock off as well, after a few more grunts, James was cumming hard, his seed spurting out in thick gloops across the bed.

Sirius pushed the quidditch player over the bed once more, the man now lying in his own cum and began mercilessly fucking his arse, chasing his own high, James moaned through the entire interaction before Sirius’ hips stilled with a hard yell and slap to James’ ass cheek.

Finally, after watching all three men reach their highs during that afternoon, you felt settled enough to fall asleep in Remus’ arms, knowing that when you woke up, you might be feeling a little bit subspacey but that was a problem for another time.

#poly!marauders #the marauders #james potter smut #sirius black smut #remus lupin smut #sirius black x reader #james potter x reader #remus lupin x reader #marauders x reader #mine*#hp smut #hp oneshot

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cherimoyatea · 1 month ago

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𝑪𝒂𝒏'𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒑 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒚𝒐𝒖… – A sequel to Tipsy

Pairing: Rafayel x You Synopsis: Sequel to Rafayel's Tender Moments, Tipsy. You miss him like crazy and send him a song that reminds you of him while being away for two months. Tags: Fluff, Romance, Long-Distance Relationship, Music related theme, Confessing. A little teasing from Rafayel’s end (no smut or anything). Oh, and I made a little reference to his 5 Stars Card Floral Promise if you notice. Word Count: 2677K Side Notes: So, I had this little fic in my head after listening to Can't Stop Loving You by Artemas shortly after Tipsy was released, and decided to write it down eventually. I recommend listening to the song to enhance the experience, but it's okay if you don't. Or maybe you enjoy the song and don’t like the story; that’s also fine. 🩷 Also: While I’m not new to writing, I don’t consider myself as professional as other writers. I appreciate constructive criticism as much as kind words, if you have any! 💕 Okay, here we go~

It's been six weeks since Rafayel saw you off at the airport and you boarded the plane that took you away from him. Six weeks since you saw his cheeky grin or his endearing pout in person. Six weeks since you sank into his arms or breathed in his familiar scent. And only two weeks left until your time at the training camp is finally over.

Yes, you were allowed to use your phone on weekends, and you counted down the days until Friday would finally turn into Saturday again so you could spend hours talking to him. But it wasn't the same, was it? It only made you miss him more...

You sigh deeply as you lie in the bed of your shared room. It's late, past midnight and it started raining a couple of hours ago. Your roommate, another Hunter, is fast asleep while you toss and turn in your sheets, unable to find sleep. Though you were used to being apart sometimes due to your irregular missions and Rafayel's busy schedule, this was the first time you hadn't seen each other for almost two months. It was harder than you had expected, and you only survived the intense training and nerve-wracking tasks during the week because you knew you'd be able to communicate with him soon. Lost in thought, you subconsciously grip the necklace around your neck, feeling the weight of the locket he gifted you on your last evening before your trip. Recalling how sad and lonely he looked, almost pleading for you not to forget him, makes your heart ache even more.

Rafayel did his best to support you from afar, by holding back his desire for you to return to him and showering you with encouraging words instead. His lingering gaze would always betray him whenever he looked at you through the phone, playfully responding in his usual cheeky way as you talked about the tough training, strict rules, and how sore your body felt. He looked at you with a sense of loneliness that tore at your heart in ways you never thought was possible. While his lips curled into a bright smile, pretending he was busy with his artwork, he was probably running a countdown on his phone, counting down the days, hours, minutes, and even seconds until you were back.

Only the constant ticking of the clock on your wall reminds you of how much time has passed since you lay down and started listening to the faint droplets tapping on your windows. You still have a few hours left until Monday morning, so you grab your wireless headphones from the nightstand and connect them to your phone. Opening the music app, you hope it will help distract you from your aching...

🎶 And the sirens sang out the sweetest lullaby It's the best I've slept in a hundred thousand nights I couldn't help myself I was hoping you would love me one more time... 🎶

...but as the soft strokes of the piano resound in your ears, you feel your heart sink further, unable to stop your thoughts from drifting to the purple-haired man you love. Every line of the song you're hearing reminds you of him and how much you long for him. Was he still awake? Maybe you weren't the only one who couldn't sleep. Without a second thought, you tap the share button on your screen and send the song to your beloved.

🎶 I'm perfectly sane, I'm fine Do you think I've lost my mind? You shouldn't be surprised Swear that I just really miss you I'd go to hell just to kiss you And I've got a couple of issues... 🎶

Your eyes grow heavier as you look at the picture of Rafayel on your nightstand, with your phone being the only source of light in your otherwise pitch-black room. It's one of the pictures you brought with you–the ones that Rafayel accidentally found and teased you about the day before you left for the training camp. You would usually hide them inside the drawer of your nightstand after your roommate caught a glimpse and almost spat out her tongue in surprise. But tonight, you decided to leave his framed picture out to find little comfort in those sunset eyes.

"Wait! Your boyfriend is Rafayel?! The renowned artist, Rafayel?? No way!!"

You chuckle quietly as you remember your roommate's wide eyes and open mouth when you asked her to keep it confidential, nodding at you excitedly. While you feel proud to be his girlfriend, causing a fuss at your training camp is the last thing you want.

''...only two weeks left... hold on, MC.''

Another sigh escapes your lips in an attempt to embolden yourself. You grab Rafayel's photo from your nightstand and give the framed version of your beloved a gentle kiss before pressing it against your chest, feeling your heart flutter at the mere thought of reuniting with him in just a few weeks. Soon, your heavy eyelids eventually close, and you drift off with the frame pressed against you, succumbing to a short, yet deep sleep.

Another week passes while your daily routine in the camp is dominated by lectures, training sessions, and intensive sports units. Like every Monday morning, you and the other hunters have to hand over your phones to your supervisors to avoid distractions and stay focused on the tasks ahead. So when you finally get your phone back on this Saturday noon, you can't wait to talk to your beloved and see his beautiful smile again.

After taking a shower, you are dressed neat as a pin, prepared for a long video chat as you tap on his name in your contact list, your heart beating in anticipation.

No answer.

''Huh?'' You frown and take a quick look at your watch. It's exactly 2 p.m., the time you both agreed on for your chatting dates. He usually picks up after the first ring and greets you with his cheerful smile, but this time is different.

You try again, but the line seems busy, and after a while, your call goes directly to his Voicemail, only adding to your confusion. The rest of the day is clouded with restless thoughts while you try to call him over and over. Your mood switches from worry to frustration, then back to sadness and irritation as you consider all the possible reasons why he stood you up.

The other hunters left hours ago to spend their free day in the town center while you declined the offer to join them and stayed back to talk to your boyfriend. But now, you bury your sulking face in your pillow and feel like crying as your phone remains silent. His phone was dead–no messages, no emails, nothing.

Hours have passed, and you're still lying on your stomach with your phone next to your pillow. As you hear your roommate enter the room after her trip to the city center, you reluctantly turn onto your back, forcing a smile to hide the disappointment you feel.

''You missed something! There was a little fair today with all kinds of snacks and street food!''

You listen patiently as your roommate excitedly describes the food stalls she and the other hunters visited, but in reality, you just want to sulk in peace.

''Oh! You wouldn't believe it! I saw someone today who resembled your boyfriend!''

You perk up your ears and look at your roommate with a surprised expression, lifting your upper body onto your elbows slightly. Rafayel? She must be mistaken.

''You're seeing ghosts; there's no way he could be here.'' You say, shaking your head with a slightly irritated smile as you shift your gaze back to the ceiling with a deep sigh. He probably just fell asleep after pulling another all-nighter and forgot to charge his phone.

''Yeah, I guess so. Because when I approached him and asked for an autograph, he drew an ugly pot on the back of my hand instead!'' Your roommate pouts as she lifts her hand, showing you the drawing. ''I mean, if he really were your artist boyfriend, he could've done better than a hideous doodle, right?''

''A pot?'' Your eyes widen as you recognize the drawing on your roommate’s hand. You jump up from your bed and grab her wrist, taking in the fine strokes you know so well. The resemblance is uncanny…

''This… this is not a pot! It's a fish head!''

You grab her shoulders, shaking your roommate desperately as your cheeks flush. Could it be? Was he really here? ''Where did you meet him? Around what time? Please, I need to know!''

After a brief description from your puzzled roommate, you storm out, rushing through the hallway of the dorm. Your heart races as you leave the camp, desperately trying to find your beloved. It's already getting dark outside and you wrap your long cardigan tighter around your body. Although the days are summery and warm, the evening chill sets in, signaling the change of the seasons. You just pass through the huge gates of the camp when you suddenly feel someone grab your shoulder from behind. You flinch at the unexpected approach and turn around to stare into a pair of familiar pink-blue eyes–the ones you've been longing to see.

''Gotcha!'' Rafayel grins at you, his bright smile wide as he takes in your surprised expression. He is holding a huge bouquet of your favourite flowers with the wrapping paper slightly crinkled.

''Rafayel!? It’s you! It’s really you!'' Your heart skips a beat as you look at him, your eyes wide, hoping they aren't just playing tricks on you. After all the yearning, he's really standing in front of you, his lilac bangs swaying gently in the evening breeze as the last rays of light quietly disappear behind the horizon. ''What… what are you doing here? Why are you here?''

''Why am I here? For you, dummy!'' He pokes your cheek, still amused by your baffled expression, trying to play it cool while his own heart bursts with joy at seeing you again. He hands you the bouquet with an apologetic smile as he notices the crinkled wrapping paper. You feel his sweaty palms brush against yours and can't help but wonder if he's a bit nervous. As if reading your thoughts, he clears his throat and quickly pulls his hands away.

''I heard the song you texted me last Sunday, and while I couldn’t ask you directly, I spent the whole week analyzing the lyrics.... and then eventually came here to ask you personally.''

You feel flustered as you recall sending him the song, not expecting it would lead to such a big gesture. Quickly, you change the subject. ''What about the fish head you drew on my colleague's hand? What was that for? You stood me up on our date earlier, and your phone was off! You could have at least texted me!''

Rafayel's bright smile fades into a sheepish grin as he rubs the back of his neck, lowering his head slightly. ''Yeah, my bad. I was thinking about a surprise visit, but everything went wrong. I spent the whole day arguing with your authorities and making calls, but they're super strict and don't allow anyone inside their camp. So, I had to find a way to make you come to me instead... without ruining the surprise, you know?''

He rubs his chin thoughtfully, eyes drifting to the side as he recalls the day's events. ''Then my phone died, and I overheard a group talking about the tough training while I was in town, buying a power bank. I was about to approach them when a girl tapped me on the shoulder and asked if I was your boyfriend. That's when I knew she must be the roommate you mentioned. But I didn't want to draw attention, so I doodled the same pot ehm-I mean fish head that you once drew on my hand. I knew you'd recognize it and come out to look for me!''

As you listen to him, your eyes widen in disbelief. All this trouble–just because of a song you sent in a moment of emotion?

''Okay, but Raf... you could have simply asked me on the phone why I sent you the song. It's actually pretty straightforward. The lyrics are about missing someone, and...''

Your words get caught in your throat, heat rising in your cheeks. Shifting your gaze away, you nervously fiddle with your sleeve, trying to come up with something that would feel less embarrassing to confess.

''…and? And what, cutie?'' Rafayel raises an eyebrow, a teasing glint in his eyes, his smile softening. It's clear you're struggling to finish your sentence with your cheeks turning pink as you avoid his gaze.

''Let me help you. After analysing the lyrics and playing the song on a loop for hours, I concluded that someone must be madly in love to send a song like this during the early morning hours. After all, that’s what the title says… 'Can't Stop Loving You', isn't it?''

He leans in and gives you a soft peck on your warm cheek, catching you completely off guard. ''Now that we've solved this mystery, there’s something else I need to know…''

Your heart nearly skips a beat as you look up at him, still flustered, lips slightly parted. He's so close, that you can feel his breath on your flushed face, stirring something deep inside you. You gulp and nod, waiting patiently for the words to form on his pretty lips.

Rafayel's lips are inches away from yours, and his beautiful eyes darken as he whispers, making your knees go weak. ''Tell me… do you really memorise every freckle on my back?''

Another lyric reference. Great.

With an amused chuckle, he suddenly pulls away and winks at you, a smug grin on his face. You groan and roll your eyes, trying to hit his chest playfully, only for him to catch your wrist midair.

''You! Stop teasing me!!'' You pout, feeling a little disappointed that he fooled you and ruined the romantic atmosphere. But you can't help but chuckle along with him. He always knew how to brighten your mood and keep you on your toes, and you adore that carefree side of him. But as the hand holding your wrist loosens it's grip, your smile falters when you notice the watch on your wrist–it's almost 9 p.m. You need to be back before 10 p.m. to avoid getting into trouble for breaking camp rules.

''You didn't need to fly all the way to me, Rafayel... I'm so happy to see you, but… I need to go back in a while. You troubled yourself for nothing…'' You lower your gaze, a sad smile on your lips as you feel his slender fingers grip your chin, gently lifting your head to meet his gaze.

''What else am I supposed to do when I want to see you? It's not like I can cast your name like a spell and have you magically appear before me, huh?'' he says, as his expression softens. Rafayel locks eyes with you, cupping your cheeks in his freezing hands. While you can feel his thumbs caressing your skin, you almost tear up from the rush of love swelling in your heart as you realise how long he must have been waiting for you outside for his hands to be this cold.

He leans in, resting his forehead gently against yours, whispering softly as his hands find yours, holding them firmly. ''I heard you calling out for me and I followed... simple as that. And I would do it again, even if it means seeing you for only a moment…''

Your grip on the bouquet tightens as you look up at him, emotions flooding over you. A warm smile spreads across your lips as you finally find your voice again, your words faintly whispered.

''We still have one hour left... let's go somewhere warm, shall we?''

Thank you for reading!

Cheri 🍒

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f1byjessie · 9 months ago

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A PICTURE IS WORTH A THOUSAND WORDS ━━ LN4.

sometimes the right words are hard to come across, and sometimes everything you need to say can be captured in an image.

( lando norris x photographer!reader )

━━ part six.

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user AIN’T NO WAY HE FINALLY POSTED HER

user girlies i hate to say it, but maybe this one’s actually serious… 🫢

↳ user i refuse to believe it…

↳ user he’s literally never posted another girl before tho??

user king of aesthetics

user i can’t believe he’s actually dating her

user what does he actually see in her?? like gen what is it cuz i cannot see it from here 😒😒😒

user she’s just using you for your clout garrett DON’T FALL FOR IT 😫 SHE’S NOT THE ONE THERE ARE BETTER FISH IN THE SEA

↳ user she’s fr just using him for the money and fame it’s so sad

↳ user right?? like he’s posting her which means he’s probably serious but i doubt she is and it’s just gonna hurt him in the end 😔

↳ user this is why i hate when celebs or athletes get with ppl who aren’t in the same sphere as them, cuz like if she were another celeb then we would know she has money or if she were actually a football fan then we would know she’s invested in helping him get better but she’s neither 🤷‍♀️

↳ user it hurts to see such an innocent man get used

user wait she’s actually kind of pretty tho 👀👀

↳ user she lowkey is

user can’t wait to see you back on the field soon garrett!!

user mad style bro

user came over from y/n’s account to say that you fans are exhibiting behaviour that is genuinely so immature and disrespectful. it’s sickening. you claim to support this athlete but you don’t support his decision to enter an exclusive relationship with someone? you say it’s bc she doesn’t know football or that she’s controlling or that she’ll ruin his career, but you know nothing about her and i’d bet you all would say the same thing about anyone. she could be a professional footballer herself and you would still say she isn’t fit to be with him. get over yourselves and bffr. none of you had a chance with him to begin with, and you hating on an innocent girl so much that she had to turn her comments off so she wouldn’t keep getting death threats is actually crazy. you all are delusional.

↳ user THIS. i’m so tired of the hatred

↳ user i’m honestly surprised garrett hasn’t said anything to his fans about them leaving her alone yet…

↳ user he probably thought GROWN ADULTS would know it’s inappropriate to act like BABIES but i digress 🙄

↳ user whether he thought they were mature enough or not, the fact that he probably knew it was happening (she’s his gf, there’s no way she didn’t tell him or he didn’t see the comments himself before she turned them off) and still hasn’t said anything is a major red flag imo. he’s posted her/acknowledged that she exists on his acc now, but he STILL hasn’t addressed the hatred his “fans” have been sending her and continue to direct towards her in the comments of his own post.

↳ user i think it’s a out of sight out of mind type situation tbh. if neither of them acknowledge them, then the haters aren’t given the attention they want. they might just be waiting for it to die down.

↳ user i don’t think that’s a good enough reason tho?? if i was a celeb and my significant other was being harassed by jealous and delusional fans, i would absolutely say smth and try to get them to stop, partly bc my s/o doesn’t deserve to be spoken about like that just bc they’re in a relationship with me and partly bc i personally wouldn’t want to see that type of negativity directed towards the person i care about. it’s a matter of respect for your partner.

“I’ll be honest with you, Garrett━ I don’t like you very much.”

The restaurant table you’re both sitting at is tucked away in a corner and gives you enough privacy to feel comfortable having this conversation with Garrett out in public. The restaurant itself is exclusive in its own right, similarly to the first place Garrett took you. It’s not as high class in the sense that you feel underdressed with business casual, but it’s the type of locale that other celebrities or higher class individuals tend to frequent and it makes you feel secure in the fact that the staff are trained to be discreet about anything they might overhear.

“But,” you shrug, “I don’t think you need me to tell you that.”

Garrett takes a slow sip from his coffee and raises an eyebrow at you over the rim of his cup. While he does so, you appraise him. The only other time you’ve seen him in something other than his training attire or some equally comfortable athletic-adjacent wear was the first night you both went out, and you hadn’t really been paying much attention to him then━ too focused on trying not to scream your head off in frustration.

He looks good though, which you’re loath to admit. Garrett, at the very least, has fashion sense if nothing else. If he were even half decent his style might’ve been enough to make up for the rest of the decency he’s missing, but as it stands he’s so far below the bar that his ability to dress nice only serves to get him within jumping distance of your lowest standards.

He lowers his cup back down the table with a faint clink, and then steeples his fingers together on the table.

“Quite frankly, Y/N━” the way your name sounds on his lips makes you shiver, but not at all in the way it’s described in the romance novels you used to read back in school. It’s like the human equivalent of your hackles rising, sensing danger, knowing you need to make yourself bigger to appear like more of a threat, “━I don’t really care what you think of me. This is more of a business transaction than an actual relationship. You don’t need to like me, you just need to pretend you do.”

He ends it with what would be a charming smile on anyone else, but knowing who he is beneath his charismatic facade makes it look sleazy.

You scoff. “For a guy who’s so desperate to fix his reputation, you sure aren’t doing anything to actually try and fix who you are as a person.”

It’s his turn to scoff. “I don’t actually need to be a better person, I just need everyone to think I’m a better person.”

“Fair enough.” You can’t argue with that. “But if I’m going to be spending a prolonged amount of time with you, you’re gonna have to at least pretend to not be a total dick.” You take a sip of your coffee.

He watches you for a moment━ observes your face, your hands, the way you tap your fingers against the table once your cup has been lowered. And you watch him right back. His steepled fingers have intertwined together, and he’s resting his chin atop them in a show of nonchalance, but his eyebrows are furrowed tight and his shoulders are pulled tense.

“What do you even want out of this?” He finally asks after another few seconds of silence broken only by the quiet drone of other restaurant patrons in the background. “What’s so important to you that it matters more than whatever notoriety being with me could give you?”

The Manchester skyline outside the window draws your gaze as you ponder how to go about explaining your answer. The storm-darkened sky casts the city streets below in a heavy shadow, which mimics your own mood as of late. It’s the weekend now, but Lando’s call and the things he’d drunkenly said still looms over you. You’d spent the week in a bad mood that not even your newfound friendship with Jack was capable of easing, and each day with continued radio silence on Lando’s end━ the fact that he can’t even bother to apologize himself━ only sours things more and more.

It had soured even more when McLaren’s PR team manager had reached out to you with the knowledge that you could plan on being back at the Technology Centre in Woking by the end of the month, in just under two weeks. In and of itself this hadn’t been bad news, but it meant seeing Lando again and unless he reaches out first to extend an olive branch, you could almost guarantee you’d be in for an uncomfortably awkward reunion.

But none of that matters right now.

“I’ll admit, I’m taking a page out of your book and being a prick,” you say as you turn back to Garrett. “But, in my case, it’s entirely warranted because he was a prick first.”

“What’d this guy do?”

In an odd turn of events, it feels as though you’re gossiping with Garrett Ward of all people. Without the context of your relationship with him━ the real one, not the one you’re pretending to have━ you imagine you probably look like two friends talking shit, or pretty close to the couple you’re supposed to be. Despite being such a twat normally, Garrett really does just come across as being a normal guy.

You have to remind yourself just what he threatened to do. He’s not a normal guy━ he’s dangerous. But he’s also a crucial part of your plan, and there was certainly some truth when he’d called things between you a business transaction. You don’t have to like him, but you have to trust that he’s got his own best interest in mind and you can certainly capitalize off of that.

“He had some choice words about our ‘relationship,’” you start, fiddling with the handle of your cup. “And even though we aren’t actually together and I probably wouldn’t touch you even if we were the last two people on Earth, it’s the principle behind it all. He has no right to judge me so harshly for my relationship choices, so I’m going to flaunt that I don’t care what he thinks, he’s not my keeper, and I will date whoever I damn well please,” you finish with a huff.

Garrett blinks at you. You’re starting to think he just has a staring problem, but before you can call him out on it he rolls his eyes, crosses his arms, and leans back in his seat━ looking the part of the smug douche he actually is. “You like this guy, and you want to use me to make him jealous because you’re pissed that he hasn’t given any hint at being interested in you but still feels as though as if he can be possessive over you.”

You blink at him. “No. Absolutely not.”

He raises an infuriating eyebrow.

“Fuck you,” you mutter into your cup, taking a sip to avoid having to say anything more.

Garrett heaves a sigh. “I suppose I could help you with that. We’ll be doing the couple shit anyways, might as well kill two birds with one stone and solve your problem and mine.” The way he says it makes it seem as though he’s doing you a favor, and if you weren’t so sure that he’d rescind his willingness to help if you argued with him, you’d call him out on the fact that technically he’s the one who owes you after you agreed to help him with his dilemma in the first place.

“Why not just be honest with him?” He says after another moment.

You snap your eyes back to him. “What?”

“Why not just be honest?” He repeats with a shrug. “Aren’t you worried he’ll lose eventually lose interest if he thinks you’re off the market?”

You scoff, “I’m not off the market. I’m just not available to the public.” You’d sat awake at night not long after things with Garrett began and realized that it really was all just an act. Actors kiss in front of a camera all the time, but at the end of the day they go home to their real partners and that’s the only person that really matters. Things aren’t all that different between you and Garrett. You call yourselves a couple, but side from the agreement that you’ll act like one in public, there’s no obligation or commitment to put one another first. Garrett will always prioritize his career, reputation, and friendships over you, and you’re rather inclined to do the same.

He purses his lips.

“Oh please,” you roll your eyes. “As if you expect me to believe you aren’t still planning to pick up a few birdies at the pub and show them a fun time.”

“My situation is different than yours. I’m the one trying to convince the media I’ve changed, which means I need someone who can be discreet, and a birdie from the pub certainly isn’t that.” He shrugs his shoulders. “Not getting laid for a few months is just a sacrifice I have to make to keep my place at Man City.”

You don’t mention that no matter what he does to try and clean up his act, Manchester City won’t be keeping him around after his contract expires. He wouldn’t believe you anyway, but even if he did you doubt he’d be all that willing to continue with this facade.

“More fun for me then,” you say instead, returning the smug smirk he’d given you earlier.

He glares.

INSTAGRAM.

liked by user, user, and 487,462 others

footballfansofficial UPDATE: Manchester City Forward Garrett Ward once again seen out in public with girlfriend and Formula One photographer Y/N L/N! The couple were caught sharing a romantic evening for the first time on the 5th of January, and have once again been spotted Saturday, the 20th, following Ward and L/N’s public posts on social media platform, Instagram. Ward has reportedly been making progress with his injury recovery, and is speculated to be rejoining the team on the pitch in February if all continues to go well. As the 2024 Formula One season draws nearer, it’s also expected that L/N will be returning to her McLaren roots, after working with Manchester City to photograph their winter training, which leaves fans wondering how their relationship will fare. Check the link in our bio for the full article!

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user i’m starting to warm up to the idea of them as a couple… 👀👀👀

user I WAS SO CONVINCED SHE WAS WITH LANDO NORRIS??? WERE THEY NOT EVER TOGETHER??? 🤯

↳ user i don’t think they were which is super shocking bc she posts him all the time on insta

↳ user i mean?? that’s technically her job?? as a photographer for mclaren she takes and posts pictures of the mclaren drivers. if you scroll across her feed she also has a lot of oscar from 2023, and carlos and daniel from their years with the team. she’s been working with manchester city recently too and has been posting the players as well. it’s just that she’s worked with lando the longest consecutively so ofc her account is gonna have him posted more than the others

↳ user LET ME BE DELUSIONAL I ACTUALLY THOUGHT THEY WERE SO CUTE 😭😭

user i really wish garrett would actually focus on his career instead of dating women bro’s contract ends at the end of the season and he doesn’t even seem bothered

user MAN CITY RE-SIGN GARRETT WARD 2024 🩵🩵🩵

user i hope the long distance makes them break up

↳ user me toooooo that bitch needs to get away from my man

↳ user he’s too good for her

↳ user be so fucking fr, she’s never had a scandal in her entire career but garrett ward has had dozens in just the past few years. if anyone is too good, it’s her 🙄

user MCLAREN WCC 2024 🧡🏁 AND MAN CITY TREBLE WINNERS 2024 🩵⚽️

user don’t hate me but i totally thought garrett ward was gay

↳ user ah, yes, most notorious casanova, known for his many nightly escapades with women, that’s 100% proof that he’s gay

↳ user idk that was just the vibe i got

↳ user be so fucking fr 💀💀

user will city even want to re-sign him after the season is up?? he’s been on loan for the majority of his contract anyway, playing in the championship of all things, and now he’s back but he’s missed a majority of the season cuz of an injury. i personally don’t think garrett ward stands a chance against the current starting forwards, so even when he’s recovered who’s to say he’ll play in any matches?? just seems like a waste for city to keep him around if he isn’t even being used

user if ward is actually cleaning up his act then good for him

↳ user real. all these ppl acting like she's suddenly changing him into a whole new person against his will, but none of them have stopped to think that maybe he WANTS to change.

━━ tags: @maih23 @urfavnoirette @leclercsluv @f1luvur @formulaal @a-disturbing-self-reflection @starlightpierre @chezmardybum @marshmummy @405rry @sideboobrry11 @d3kstar @mcmuppet @happylittlereader @casperlikej @5starl1ght @bellezaycafe @whentheautumnleavesfall @mess-is-my-aesthetic @ssprayberrythings @landosgirlxoxo @lifelessfan @81ja

━━ a/n: i did it! got this part done so much faster AND i didn't wanna rage while i did it 😌 feeling pretty proud of myself for that. anyways! hope you all enjoy!

#formula 1 #formula one #f1 #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #formula one imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula one x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #social media au #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #ln4 #oscar piastri

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dancinglikebutterflywings · 9 months ago

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5:03PM | Lee Felix

Pairing: Lee Felix x Fem!Reader

Request: From Anon

Sypnosis: Felix doesn't want his not so secret favourite person to stay while they continue to practice.

Warnings: None. Mentions of reader being a staff member. Formally titled Happiest. This is a repost from my now deactivated blog.

Word Count: 518

Stray Kids Masterlist | Tag List Sign-Up | Requesting Guidelines

The cameras had finally stopped rolling for the day and Felix was sitting on the couch at the back of the dance practice room with his ‘not so secret’ favourite staff member, helping her eat the grapes she had stashed in her bag from lunch.

Felix just so happened to be also Y/N’s ‘not so secret’ favourite member of Stray Kids, even though she got on well with all of them, bonding mostly with Han and Lee Know whose personalities matched hers well. They had been the two who wormed their ways into not just her work life but her personal life too. Felix soon after created himself a special place in her heart, followed by the others. She couldn’t imagine her days without them, especially Felix. The closeness of the two always has the people around them questioning if they were dating. But so far, their relationship has consisted of friendship and mutual pining, neither of them wanting to make the first move because of the possible consequences they would face.

“Are you going to keep practicing?” She asks him, trying to make herself more comfortable on the couch while facing him.

“I think Channie hyung wants to go over the choreography a few more times,” he tells her, taking her legs and places them over his lap. His small hands, that were somehow bigger than hers by less than a centimetre, starts kneading at her thighs.

“I should probably head out then,” she says, even though she usually likes to hang around for a little while longer to watch them practice without having to be working and having cameras around. “I’ve got to run a few errands before heading home.”

“Stay please,” Felix pouts giving her sad eyes to get her to stay. "I like having you here, watching us. It motivates me to keep going,” he suddenly blurts out when she looks at him, not convinced.

At his words, her cheeks burn red, as she lifts her hands to her face. She always did it when someone made her blush, not wanting the other person to see how affected she was by their words or their actions.

“You can’t just say stuff like that, Lix,” she pretends to scold him from behind her hands. Though she wants nothing more than for his words to be true because when she’s with him she feels the happiest she’s ever been.

“But it’s true,” he said, the tone in his voice lower and more serious than a few minutes ago. He takes her hands in his and moves them away from her voice. “Please stay until we’re finished.”

“Can you two please stop flirting, we have stuff to do,” Bang Chan’s voice comes from the centre of the room, interrupting the two. Everyone was starting to get into their positions.

“Fine I’ll stay,” she gives in and moves her legs off his lap so he can join the others.

Felix smiles brightly and happily kisses her cheek before he makes his way over to the others and gets into the position they were going to be starting from.

Likes, Comments & Reblogs are welcomed and appreciated.

©️ 2024 CRAZYFORMFICS. NO ONE HAS PERMISSION TO COPY, TRANSLATE AND/OR REPOST MY WORKS ON HERE OR ANY OTHER SITE.

TAGGED: @staytiny2000 - @dancelikebutterflywings - @kpopmenace143 - @treehouse-mouse - @alexxavicry - @jedi-dreea - @rainydayteacups - @tinyelfperson

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chimcess · 8 months ago

Text

Waterlog || pjm (2)

Pairing: Jimin x Reader Other tags: Olympic Swimmer!Jimin, Ex Olympic Swimmer! Reader, Swim Coach!Reader Genre: Strangers to Friends to Lovers!AU, Coach!AU, Swimming!AU, HEAVY Angst, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, fluff, eventual smut, I'm so soft for these two it's crazy. Word Count: 11.5k+ Synopsis: After a car accident ends her athletic career, Y/N has slowly started rebuilding her life again as a high school swim coach. That’s until she gets a request from an old friend and finds herself back in the spotlight as the new coach of Olympic swimmer, Park Jimin. Warnings: PINING, sexual tension, sad backstory, parental issues, more than likely bad swimming terminology, probably some bad work out advice, i'm trying my best lol, tae is too much but i love him, talks of past drug use (not reader or jimin), strong language, mental health things, medication use, allusions to depression, did i say pining?, reader is horny and awkward 99% of the time, can we blame her?, mood swings, i think they are so cute together, i promise more romance is coming soon A/N: Howdy. I know we're having a pretty slow start, but I think it'll be worth it in the end. I enjoy a good slow burn, especially when there's so much awkward sexual tension involved. Thanks for reading!!!

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Waking up the next morning, I was greeted by a loud knocking on my door. Stumbling, I told whoever it was that I was on my way. The knocking stopped but was quickly followed by Violet’s loud voice. My things were here, and I needed to let the movers inside.

“Christian and Kook are here already,” She added. “Managed to get an extra pair of hands, too.”

I changed into a pair of jeans and threw on a pull over. It was not supposed to be as cold today, but I did not think a short-sleeved shirt would be enough to keep me warm. Sliding into my boots, I opened the front door.

Violet was there, her hair in a braid again, wearing a blue plaid shirt and bootcut jeans. Beside her was Jimin, a large smile already on his face. Two other men were here. I was certain I had seen one of them before. He was very handsome with a heart shaped face and soft chin, large, asymmetrical brown eyes, and downturned lips. His hair was very obviously dyed, the blue so bright when the sun hit it my eyes hurt.

The other man was less familiar. His hair was black, styled into a trendy wolf cut, with his bangs pulled out of his face into a ponytail. He had a pure, youthful, and elegant look about him, and a few piercings. There was one on his eyebrow, one on his bottom lip, and so many on each ear I could not count them all. If I could describe him in a single word, it would be cartoonish. His eyes took up most of his face, large and doe-like, with all of his other features soft and small. Like the blue haired man, he was very handsome.

This upset me more than it should have, because despite how wonderful they both looked, all I could think about was how much I preferred Jimin. It was incomparable, actually. While they were certainly my type, I could only see how not Jimin-like their features were.

“Good morning,” I greeted them awkwardly, my voice scratchy. “I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you both.”

“It’s such an honor to meet you,” The blue haired man’s enthusiasm caught me off guard. Despite me never making the move to shake either one of their hands, he reached for mine anyway. He reminded me of a labrador retriever, and I could imagine a tail wagging in time with his vigorous handshake. “I’m Taehyung Kim. I used to watch you, like, all the time back in the day.”

I knew that name. Studying his face a little more, it hit me. Taehyung Kim, a.k.a., The Seal of Michigan, a.k.a, V. I never understood why he had been given that last one, but it must have some sort of meaning to him because the guy lights up when anyone uses it. He was a famous snowboarder and had been to the 2020 winter Olympics. He was just a few months younger than Jimin.

“That’s very kind of you to say,” I gripped his hand back a bit more now. “I watched you at the last Olympics. You did great.”

He blushed and let go of my hand, “I didn’t win anything, but I had a lot of fun.”

That was true. The kid was brand new on the scene and let some of his nerves get to him. I had learned the hard way that hesitation could ruin a great performance, but I was sure he would do better in January. The Winter Olympics were always a few months ahead of summer, and I would surely be watching Taehyung this year. If I was going to spend time with Jimin then I would need to get along with his friends.

“It’s not always about winning,” I tried to comfort him. “I didn’t win every time either.”

That placated him. Jimin quickly introduced me to Jungkook after. He was an NHL player for the Red Wings. I admitted that I had no idea who he was and never really watched hockey before, but that only made Jungkook swear to make me an avid fan before I left Michigan. For some reason, I believed him.

It did not take long for the movers to get all of my furniture and boxes into the house. With the boys’ help, I was tipping the two men much earlier than I anticipated. All three of them insisted on helping me unpack despite me telling them I could do it on my own. The place was entirely too small for the four of us, but we managed to make it work.

I had told them my bedroom was off limits. I unpacked my clothes and put my underwear away. My room was the largest in the house. With enough space for my full-sized bed, nightstands, and dresser, I was pleased. The only downside was not having a closet, but I did not bring anything nice enough for it to really matter. It was inconvenient but not the end of the world.

I was, however, happy to see more color. My blanket was dark orange, pillowcases covered in baby pink cow print, and the otter plushie Namjoon’s mom made me was resting right in between them. I installed some simple shelving above my bed, warmly lit Christmas lights wrapped around the bars, where I displayed my books and a few of my plants. The rest were lined up on the windowsill beside the bed.

Brightly colored art now hung on the walls, a large mirror above my dresser, and a peg board for my earrings made the space feel lived in. Whatever books could not fit on my shelves got stacked and put on the nightstand. I still wanted to buy a rug and curtains, but that was on the bottom of my list of priorities.

The boys were all talking and laughing as they worked which helped me relax. I hated being trapped in quiet spaces. Finished with my room, I went to check in with them and move things around. I doubted any of them would get the knick-knacks just right.

“Don’t worry about the decorations,” I said, announcing my presence. Taehyung was staring at two of my paintings with mild panic. “I’ll take that.”

Snatching the photos, I smiled at him. The living room was coming together nicely. Jungkook pushed the dark green loveseat against the wall and all of my throws were on top of it. My largest potted plant was beside it and I decided then I would keep it there. Moving the throw pillows to the floor, I started to put my wall art up. Hoseok complained that I was going to become a hoarder if I bought any more shit. Andrea, however, said that I had great taste, so I listened to her instead.

“You’re a big face of Earthy colors,” Jungkook said, looking around the house. “Lots of plants, too.”

I shrugged, “My fiancé had a lot of succulents and stuff, so I guess it rubbed off on me after a while.”

In truth, Namjoon not only had succulents and cacti, but an entire apartment filled with plants. He had a small garden in the back, vegetables and herbs growing in despite the weather in Colorado making it difficult. The man had a green thumb and loved taking care of things. I had been in charge of them once we moved in together and learned to love it. Even after he died, I couldn’t imagine not having at least five plants in the house.

I noticed the room had gone eerily quiet. I realized then what I had said. It was the first time I had spoken about Namjoon with any of them. Knowing I had made the atmosphere awkward, I tried to break up the tension.

“What colors do you like, Jungkook?”

I could physically feel the mood lighten.

“Black,” His reply was quick. I groaned. He laughed. “What? I like the clean look.”

“It’s not clean,” I argued. “It’s depressing.”

Taehyung took my side, “My house isn’t as decorated as yours, but I have more going on than either one of them. I’m a huge fan of video games and photography so I have a lot of stuff hanging up.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Jimin chimed in from the bathroom. He placed himself in charge of getting that room squared away. “His place isn’t as nice as yours. It’s all cluttered and disorganized."

“Nu uh,” Taehyung argued childishly.

“Dude, you have stuff everywhere,” Jungkook shot back, handing me another picture frame.

“They’re lying,” Taehyung told me.

“You’re so full of shit, Tae,” Jungkook sighed.

“Literally the dumbest thing to lie about,” Jimin snarkily threw in from the bathroom.

“Bullies,” Taehyung was addressing me again and this time I could not help my chuckles. “They always gang up on me.”

As the boys continued to bicker, I worked. I finished hanging up the art above the sofa and got to organizing the throws. Taehyung had already pulled out my rug, and I started figuring out how I wanted to place all of the floor pillows. Namjoon never used the couch, no one in his family did, and I had become so conscious of their comfort that I always had a large array of pillows on the floor for them to use. After a few years, I had joined them, and I kept up the trend once I moved to the Springs. The sofa was little more than decoration.

“Damn, these are nice.”

Looking over my shoulder, I was surprised to see Jungkook holding up one of my medals. I was positive I had not packed it and the box he was hunched over was completely unfamiliar as well. Embarrassment and anger swelled up in my chest. I had placed Minho and Tilly in charge of coordinating with the movers so I could focus on work and training Hoseok before I left. If I had to guess, Tilly had thought it wise to ship over a large package of my most prized possessions for some God forsaken reason.

“I don’t know why those are here,” I hoped my voice sounded playful and carefree. I did not want another tense moment. “One of my friends must have packed them.”

“Holy shit,” Taehyung was now holding the medal. “These are heavy. You have so many.”

Walking over to the box, I took out the rest of the medals. Tilly had only packed four of the eight Olympic medals I owned, probably running out of room. Framed photos of me swimming, with the rest of my team, and my coach were also in the box. My swimsuit from the last Olympics I competed at was folded at the very bottom of the box, my goggles and cap wrapped up in the fabric, and underneath it was something I had not been expecting. A framed photograph.

I remembered that night as if it were yesterday. I was eighteen coming off the back of two major wins and making my mark in the athletic community. I had just moved to Denver; Victor had gotten divorced the year prior and his ex-wife moved to Colorful Colorado taking his daughter with her. My coach demanded he was close enough to see her every weekend. It really did not matter to me where I lived, so it was one of the easier decisions I had to make.

I knew Hoseok lived in the area, and we had always been friendly at the meets we had in common. I ended up getting his number from Ozzie and after getting coffee I knew we would be friends for life. The picture was taken at his New Year’s Eve Party. I needed to get laid, he had said, and he knew a few guys he thought I might hit it off with. That was where I met Namjoon.

He was a college student, fresh faced and stumbling over his words. I was charmed by him almost instantly, even if Hoseok was positive the two of us were too different to last. I could recall the smell of fireworks in the air, the way his voice cracked whenever another one would go off, and how excited his eyes looked whenever I asked him about his major. Namjoon spoke for hours about Philosophy, all of his favorite poets, and the way he believed the universe worked. He was so clumsy it was practically a disability, and the loud sounds were so nerve wracking, he flinched whenever the fireworks boomed.

Picking up the small picture, I smiled. It was taken right after midnight. Hoseok’s sister said we looked so sweet that she could not help herself. I had all but ripped Namjoon’s hair out when the countdown began, kissing him before midnight ever came. His hands rested gently on my hips, and he huffed like he had run a marathon when we finally pulled apart. His breath was hot when he went back in for more, panting into my mouth as I clung to him like an addict. It was a beautiful moment. It was a moment I would never forget.

Suddenly, I was no longer mad at Matilda. I was sure it had been her who did this. Minho would not go through so much trouble if he thought it would upset me. Either way, I was happy to have the picture. While I was no longer in love with Namjoon, my heart slowly healing itself and making space for someone new, I would never forget our time together. It was too perfect, too magical; too loving to forget.

“Is that him?” Taehyung asked. The way he said it told me that he knew what had happened. I doubted there was a person in our world who didn't know. “The guy who died?”

I nodded, “His name was Namjoon.”

“Damn, that’s rough,” Jungkook’s voice was very gentle, and I could hear the compassion in it. “Sorry to hear that. Hope you’re doing okay.”

I smiled at him and nodded, “It was a few years ago.”

Taehyung was the one who broke the moment this time and I was grateful for the reprieve.

“These aren’t all of them, right?” He pointed at the medals still in the box. "Olympic medals, I mean."

I shook my head, “No but I guess she just grabbed the ones I had at my house. The other four I keep at my school. They’re in a case in my office.”

The ones Tilly had packed away were from 2012. Andrea had been the one to convince me to bring my other medals to school. Before that I had them all stored in a box in the deepest corner of my basement. I hated looking at them. Hated everything that they represented. The only reason these had been hanging up was because I could not be bothered taking them down.

“Where should we put them?” Jungkook asked.

I shrugged, “No idea. Just keep them in the box for now.”

Truthfully, I had no intention of putting them anywhere. While happy to have the photo of Namjoon and I, my feelings on dragging these things around had not changed. I would be very upset if I lost or damaged any of this stuff. Putting everything away, save the picture, I closed the box back up and placed the photo on my coffee table. I would find a better place for it later.

Like all of the times I had been around him, Jimin bled into the background. I listened for his voice, waited for him to add something to the conversation, but he kept to himself. Even when he left the bathroom and joined the three of us, he only answered in one-word sentences and made sound effects to show he was listening. Taehyung and Jungkook seemed used to it, so I had to believe this was just how Jimin normally was.

“You should come and grab some drinks with us,” Jungkook smiled at me.

The boys were going out for a late lunch since we finished a little later than we had thought we would. I was appreciative that they had invited me out but declined the offer. All of them were disappointed.

“Why not?” Taehyung wiggled a large set of keys at me. I could not imagine what all of them could be for and the sound they made when they moved bothered me. “You worried the food’s going to suck or something?”

I shook my head, laughing, “No, it’s nothing like that. I just don’t feel comfortable going to a bar.”

Jimin smiled at me, a small, tight-lipped smile, and I almost laughed at myself when I realized I was holding my breath. I was being ridiculous. I would call Hoseok tonight to get my head screwed back on.

“It’s not a bar,” It was heavenly to hear his voice again. “Taehyung and I don’t drink. Jungkook just likes to sit at the bar so he can watch the games.”

“Oh,” I replied dumbly. “I guess I can come along then.”

Jimin offered to give me a ride while Jungkook and Taehyung rode in the hockey player's beat up Jeep. He was just as quiet on the ride to the restaurant as he was back at the house, and while I wanted to break him out of whatever shell he had put around himself, I had no idea how. We were supposed to work together and barely spoke. Ozzie was not going to be happy about this.

“What time are we getting your car?”

I jumped, not prepared for the question. His eyes were still on the road, and it looked like he was forcing himself to not look my way. It hurt my feelings, but I knew I would have to get over it. Whatever his problem was, it had nothing to do with me and I would not let it get in between our working relationship.

“Whenever you want to go,” I replied, going back to looking out of the window.

“We’ll pick it up after we eat. My mom invited you over for dinner. by the way. If you're up for it.”

This had been the most he had said all day, but his voice was off. It was embarrassing how quickly I had become attuned to his little mannerisms, but I was so sure that something was wrong with him it was eerie. His tone was flat and disinterested, and I knew I had done nothing to upset him. Something was obviously bothering him, and I would have to silently support him in my own way. I was not comfortable being more upfront and something told me that Jimin would not like my overstepping.

“I might,” I purposely kept my tone light, hoping he did not realize I could see the darkness in his eyes. Looking at him, I asked, “What is she making?”

“Beef and radish stew,” The mundane topic seemed to ease his frown. “She got a yellow corvina from the Asian market yesterday so she’s going to roast it. Do you like fish?”

“Yeah,” I nodded. “It sounds nice. I’ll go.”

A ghost of a smile graced his pretty face and I felt like I had won the lottery. Carefully composed, I looked back out of the window, hiding my little smile behind my hand. He was quiet again, the only sounds in the car being our breathing, but it felt lighter. Finally, I let myself admire the scenery.

Taehyung and Jungkook were already at the bar when we arrived and as soon as we sat down, the snowboarder was quick to hog all of my attention. While Jungkook watched a baseball game on the big screens, Taehyung talked animatedly about his family. Jimin was quietly sipping on a Coke in the seat next to me. It was strange to see how easily his friends ignored him. Like they knew he did not feel like talking.

“My sisters are both in college,” Taehyung continued to ramble. “Twins. It was a nightmare being the baby brother.”

I nodded along and tried my best to keep up with him. I kept getting distracted by Jimin. He barely moved and seemed to be mindlessly watching the tv. He looked so sad it broke my heart. Still, no one else said anything so I kept my thoughts to myself.

“Oh!” Taehyung gasped, noticing a few people who walked in. “I’m going to go say ‘hi.’ It was so great meeting you.”

With a bright smile, Taehyung told the boys about the group and Jungkook decided to join him. Jimin did not even acknowledge he had said anything. Leaving us alone, the restaurant was loud and filled with their chattering.

“Are you hungry?” I asked, trying to make conversation. Picking up the menu the bartender had left with Taehyung when we first arrived, I gave it a quick once over. “We can split an appetizer.”

Jimin looked tired and sad, but I did not know what to say or do for him. We were not lovers, not even friends. We were a pair of strangers who were expected to work together. This seemed much easier over the phone. I took a nervous sip of my drink.

“What are you thinking?” Just the sound of him talking eased my anxiety.

“Uh,” I had barely looked at their menu and pointed to a random item. “Fried pickles?”

Jimin smiled lazily and looked at me, his eyes amused.

“You don’t sound very sure of yourself.”

I shrugged, embarrassed. “I just said the first thing I saw.”

Putting his cup down, Jimin grabbed the menu from my hands and laid it flat on the bar. We leaned over the small paper, our knees touching. I could smell his cologne now and my mouth watered. He smelled so good I struggled to focus.

“Most of the shit here is awful,” His voice had more life in it now and I was glad to see the corners of his mouth pulled up. “Only things worth getting are the chips and salsa, fried cheese, and pasties. The pizza is fine, too, but not worth the money.”

Talking distracted him from whatever had been on his mind, and it made Jungkook and Taehyung’s behavior odd. They were obviously very close, but if I could see how much happier he looked when he was shooting the shit, how couldn’t they? They probably knew something I didn’t, but it did nothing but rub me the wrong way. My friends would annoy me until I had no choice but to talk back.

“Chips are usually pretty safe,” We both agreed on it. “Do you just want chips? I don’t mind getting you a burger or something.”

He shook his head, “Like I said, most of the shit here is awful. Don’t waste your money.”

I ordered the chips for us, and the bartender was happy to help us out. This place was pathetically empty save us and the group Jungkook and Taehyung ditched us for. They were very loud and rowdy, something Jimin said was completely normal. Apparently, they all knew one another but he hadn’t felt like spending time with any of them.

“Are you feeling alright?” I asked, heart pounding. My anxiety over the question was ridiculous, but I felt like this was a good moment to ask. We were both comfortable and the tightness around his eyes was finally eased.

“Just one of those days,” He replied, voice soft.

I sighed, “I get them, too. They’re the fucking worst.”

He chuckled darkly, “It’s like you wake up and that’s already taken all of the energy you had for the day.”

“Why’d you come to the house?” I asked, flagging the bartender for a refill. “I wouldn’t have been upset if you bailed.”

Jimin flushed, “I said I was coming so I came.”

No, I thought, you thought I was going to be mad if you hadn’t shown up. Hamilton had this poor kid so fucked up and scared it pissed me off. As long as I knew Matt, he had always been an ass, but to think he had his trainee putting shit before his mental health and wellbeing made whatever sliver of respect I had for him vanish.

I took a long sip of my drink, “We can’t work together if you don’t talk to me. That will piss me off way more than you canceling on me.”

“Okay,” He let out a very large breath. “I’ll let you know next time.”

As we ate our chips, we moved into safer waters. Jimin was still less talkative in person, but nowhere near as tense as he had been all morning. I found that music was one of his favorite things, and I discussed my own interests in more depth and detail than I ever had before. Jimin’s taste was varied but stuck mostly in 90s R&B and soft Indie artists I had never heard of. At some point I ordered spicy wings and had to admit Jimin was right- they really were awful.

We left the other two behind to go and pick up my car. Jungkook and Taehyung seemed more than happy to watch us leave and the large table barely acknowledged my presence. Jimin accepted their happy shouts when he approached, hugging the ones who stood up to greet him, and forced one of his small, pitiful smiles at a particular brunette who kept batting her eyelashes at him. He introduced me but none of them seemed to really care. Especially the brunette.

“Let me get your number,” Taehyung said to me, holding out a hand for my phone. “We need to hang out again.”

I was nervous about giving him a way to contact me. He reminded me of Tilly, though ten times more energetic, and she always found a way to get on my nerves (the box being one of many examples). Taehyung had yet to overstep the imaginary boundaries I had, but his complete lack of personal space etiquette was astounding. He touched me more in one day than any of my friends in an entire year. He seemed like the type of person to text every day and send a million pictures of himself doing random shit. Even with that in mind, I handed my phone over. He was too nice to say no to.

“Do you like sushi?” Taehyung asked, handing me my phone. “There’s a great place in Detroit we can go to.”

The idea of being trapped in a car with the snowboarder for 45 minutes was not appealing. I could only imagine how much he could talk when he was really excited about something. I would entertain the idea if Jungkook or Jimin came as a buffer, especially if one of them could sit up front. Taehyung yapping away in my ear would give me the biggest migraine I had ever had, and my anxiety over not being entirely focused on the road would make me snippy and rude.

“Only if I can come,” Jungkook piped up. “You’re not going to Bash without me, dude.”

“Well yeah,” Taehyung rolled his eyes. “Y/N has to meet Milo and Darcy,” He looked at me, grinning happily. “I think you would really get along.”

I had no idea who either of those people were, but I did not want to ask any questions. Jimin was inching back towards me and telling the others goodbye, and I did not want to hold him up. Taehyung started making plans that I did not pay any attention to. He could always text me when he figured out what he wanted.

“We have to get going,” Jimin was back beside me. “Y/N’s car is sitting at the dealership. It was good seeing everyone.”

I waved at the table and started walking away before Taehyung could touch me. He was definitely a hugger. Jimin was quick to catch up with me, giggling about my “escape.” It had started to snow again, gentle flurries twisting and turning in the wind, and I had forgotten my heavy jacket at home. The long sleeve I was wearing would do nothing to keep me warm.

“Here,” Jimin taking off his jacket. “You need this more than me.”

Draping it over my shoulders, Jimin told me to zip it up. Stunned, I moved on autopilot and shoved my arms through the sleeves. Everything smelled like him, oranges and spice, and his warmth was still clinging to the thick fleece. I could not remember the last time someone had given me their jacket. Dazed, I followed Jimin out to the parking lot, eyes locked on his back. He was in nothing but a thin, black and white striped shirt.

“Thanks,” I said once we were both in the truck, already shrugging out of the light beige jacket. “You didn’t have to do that.”

He held up a hand, “Keep it. The heater is out.”

I shook my head, “What about you?”

He reached into the back and held up a purple hoodie.

“I’ll be alright.”

I put the jacket back on and buckled in. Jimin slipped into the sweatshirt and started the truck. After buckling up, he backed out of the parking lot. I caught sight of the brunette as we left. She was red faced, shouting into her phone. I looked away. Whoever she was angry with was definitely getting an earful.

“Wonder what Tom did this time,” Jimin mumbled.

“Hm?”

“Tom’s Annie’s boyfriend,” He supplied. “They’re always arguing. Worse than Jungkook and Darcy, they break up every other week, but Tom and Annie are at each other's throats every other day.”

I grimaced, “Sounds like my friends. They finally called it quits last year, but they were insufferable.”

Jimin chuckled, “So, what’s Colorado like?”

I talked to him about Andrea and Seokjin first, how we met and how much I loved their daughter. Hoseok and I’s friendship got quite a few laughs out of him, but those quickly died off when I brought up Namjoon. I told him about the day we met and the coffee date that happened a few days later, and that seemed to brighten up the mood again. Namjoon stories were bittersweet but took up such a large chunk of my life it was impossible to gloss over.

“When’s the toxic couple coming up?” He joked.

“I’m getting there,” I replied.

Hoseok and Matilda had known one another longer than the rest of us. Growing up together, no one was surprised when they finally hooked up in high school. It was, however, short lived bliss. Matilda got caught up in the wrong crowd and began doing drugs. Hoseok had tried to help her get through it, but they could never see eye-to-eye. That started their toxic cycle of getting back together, Tilly going to rehab, her relapsing, and them falling out again. It was not until she went two years ago that it managed to stick, but their relationship was too tumultuous to make it very far. They decided to stay friends and she became a constant member in our group.

“That’s crazy,” Jimin shook his head. “Happy she’s doing better now.”

“Me too.”

The rest of the drive was spent talking about Colorado and how beautiful it was. He stayed away from swimming, mostly wanting to hear about the school I worked at and the places I went to in my free time. He kept me talking for the entire 45-minute car ride, question after question keeping me on my toes. He did not like talking about himself, whenever I tried to switch the conversation to his own interests he barely responded before going back to his interrogation. Before I knew it, we were pulled into the dealership and getting down.

“You can leave,” I told him.

“I want to make sure you’re good before I go,” He replied.

The cashier was lovely, her voice bubbly and sweet as she helped me out. Jimin lingered longer than he needed to, helping me fill out my paperwork and making small talk with the dealer. I took my keys and went for a quick test drive before I was finally able to convince Jimin to leave.

The drive back was quiet. I was used to the silence when I drove, but Jimin’s voice had been soothing. Frankly, I was a bit bored without him around. I decided to call Matila and ask about my medals. She apologized but I doubted how sincere she actually was. After catching up with her, hearing all about the guy she went on a date with, and a five-minute rant about Hoseok spending way too much money on Minho’s birthday present, I hung up before she could give me a migraine. As much as I liked Tilly, she was someone I had very little patience for and her voice, high pitched and loud, was like nails on a chalkboard.

I got back in town a little after 3. Violet and Calvin were both home and watching some black and white Western. Calvin offered to make me lunch, but I was quick to decline. I just wanted some space.

As soon as I got in my apartment, I curled up in bed to take a nap. I was overwhelmed after talking so much and desperately needed to recharge. I set an alarm for 5 so I could make it over to the Park house in time for dinner. Quickly sending a quick text to Hoseok, I turned on thunderstorm sounds and closed my eyes.

Na-Yeon and James were both excited to see me, talking about their days and asking how I was settling in. Eloise was there as well, the twins in the back room playing again. Jimin was going to be late. He had gone for a last-minute swim with Milo. When I asked them who that was, it was Eloise who answered.

“That’s Vincent’s fiancé.”

“Who?” I was even more confused.

“Taehyung,” Na-Yeon answered. “You know he hates that name as much as Jimin hates his, Lou."

Eloise blushed, her entire face turning a bright shade of red.

“Sorry,” She scratched behind her ear. Looking back at me, she sighed, “We went to school together. Old habit.”

Now V made sense. It never occurred to me that Jungkook and Taehyung could have their own American names, and neither one introduced themselves that way either. James came to take the seat beside mine, the dining table more crowded then was reasonably necessary.

“Does Jungkook have a second name?” I asked.

“Ian,” Eloise replied. “He goes by both, so I don’t think he cares as much as Tae and Jimin. I know his girlfriend uses both.”

I assumed that was Darcy. Why else would Taehyung assume she would go with us on a day trip to Detroit?

“They call him Ian on the team, too,” James chimed in. “His name is too hard.”

Namjoon never had an American name, at least, not one I had ever heard. The only person I could think of was Hoseok. A lot of his friends called him Jay, something about an old nickname from school, but that was it. Seokjin just went by Jin, Namjoon went by Joon, and Minho went by…well, Minho. None of their parents used American-Friendly names, and Seokjin’s father’s English was still poor even after living here for so long.

“Y/N,” Na-Yeon brought me back to the conversation. “What banchan do you like?”

“My eomeo-nim made these delicious, braised potatoes,” I answered, thinking back on our dinners together. “Kimchi, of course. My ex made the best braised lotus roots. They were always yummy.”

Na-Yeon seemed pleased by my answer. James and Eloise started rambling about their own favorites. Unlike Namjoon, Mr.Park was a big fan of seafood. He grew up in Busan near the Jagalchi Market, which, according to him, was the largest seafood market in South Korea. Eloise talked a little about her favorite Korean dishes before jumping into what she grew up eating. Her father was Scottish and her mother French, so one night she was eating Scottish Pie and daube niçoise the next. It was fun hearing more about Eloise. I would have never guessed she was a first generation American.

“It’s something Tony and I had in common,” She added. “He learned quite a bit of French before he died. Unfortunately, my Korean is taking much longer.”

“Mine isn’t that great either,” I admitted. “Namjoon’s family spoke English and never liked to make me feel awkward. I can follow a conversation fairly well, but only if you speak slowly.”

James laughed, “I will remember that.”

The front door opened, and I could hear loud talking. Eloise sighed. Whoever was with Jimin did not pass her inspection it would seem. She and James seemed to have a small conversation with their eyes. The men were still at the front of the house. Finally, Eloise looked away and scowled.

“Must have brought Milo and Tae over,” She muttered. “I’m going to go check on the twins.”

Eloise left the table. James told me to ignore her. She and Milo did not get along for whatever reason and she chose to ignore him. It was not my business, so I accepted that explanation.

I prepared myself for a bad interaction. So far, Eloise was such a quiet and sweet person I could not imagine anyone actively disliking her. Then again, this was Taehyung’s fiancé, and he was the nicest, most bubbly person I had ever met. It did not seem likely that he would hang around bad company. It could just be a case of personalities clashing.

“Annyeong,” Taehyung greeted us brightly, immediately finding me. “Babe, come say hi.”

A massive, pale man followed in behind him. Milo was a good-looking guy, bright blue eyes and dirty blonde hair, with a solid build. He reminded me of the male swimmers I worked with, his huge size and bulging muscles intimidating. His fashion sense was not as good as Taehyung’s. Ill-fitting black bottoms and a Rick and Morty t-shirt that made me want to roll my eyes. I was definitely biased, my loyalties already in Eloise’s corner. I did not need to know a backstory to be weary. The dude looked enough like Matthew Hamilton to make me dislike him just off principal.

“Milo, Y/N,” Taehyung introduced, gesturing between the two of us. Behind him, Jimin snuck into the kitchen and gave his mom a kiss on the cheek as a greeting. He looked nice in his gray tracksuit. “Y/N, this is my fiancé, Milo.”

I managed a disingenuous smile, “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” He replied. His voice was smokey.

“Where’s Lou?” Jimin asked, coming around to greet his father.

“Checking on Harper and Cam,” James told him.

There was not enough room for all of us to sit at the table and I ended up giving up my seat to Na-Yeon. Jimin helped her set the table while I was put in charge of gathering Eloise and the kids. Walking down the hallway, I found the kids’ playroom and knocked.

“Dinner’s ready,” I announced, poking my head inside.

The room was bigger than I thought it would be. Each side was decorated in stereotypical boy and girl colors, Cameron’s bed and wall art a wide variety of blues and teals with dinosaur decals on the walls, while Harper’s was a mix up of baby pink and white. Her bed had more stuffed animals on it than I could count and all of them seem well loved. Their toys split the room in half, a large, circle rug in the middle of it all. Most of the toys were thrown on the floor and Eloise was telling them it was time for them to clean it up.

The children looked so cute in their little matching outfits. Harper’s black hair was braided down her back and the ribbon tied at the end of it matched her cream-colored overalls. Cam’s hair was on the longer side as well, falling to his shoulders with a slight wave. His bright red converse stuck out against the rather plain outfit he was wearing, and I had to assume he put up a fight behind them. Harper started to sing the Barney song as they cleaned.

“Feeling, okay?” I asked their mother. She was sitting in the chair on Harper’s side. “You ran off pretty quickly.”

She shook her head, “It’s nothing. We’ve never gotten along.”

I raised an eyebrow, “Do you want to eat here? I’ll sit with you.”

She smiled, “We can play nice, don’t worry. Thanks, though. I appreciate you asking.”

Dinner was as uneventful as Eloise said it would be. She and Milo greeted one another and then acted as if the other did not exist. I stood up to eat, Taehyung, Milo, and Jimin with me while the others sat down. Cam was excited to talk about school and Harper rambled on and on about her imaginary friend Butter Squash. They were both very sweet and it made me miss Dani. The last time I saw her was when we went skating the weekend before I left.

Taehyung was as talkative as ever. His touches also become bolder. By the time I left, he had an arm around my shoulders and his body pressed against my side. Milo was unbothered by our closeness. He and Jimin spoke the most and again the guy I knew when no one else was around seemingly vanished. This one was too put together, too closed off, and no one, and I mean no one, seemed to care. Every time he laughed half-heartedly or nodded along with whatever Milo was talking about, I felt more confused. Why was he so hot and cold all of the time?

During my drive back home, I tentatively attempted to listen to the radio. I only lasted around a minute or so before I switched it off. I needed silence. The Parks were such a lovely family, but tonight was too much. Between unpacking and Taehyung, I was drained. Hoseok had asked me to call him when I got home but I was going to wait. If it was important enough, he would call me himself.

I fell asleep as soon as my face hit the pillow, my medication making it a dreamless night.

The rest of the week was quiet. I called my friends back home to check in Thursday morning and was happy about Hoseok’s progress. The kids were really liking him, and he thought he may have a permanent job for next year if I decided to keep working with Jimin. I told him not to get his hopes up.

Jimin and I spoke through text daily. He was still going about his normal routine while I brainstormed training and scheduling. By Saturday I was ready to start testing out different ideas. We both seemed eager to get started, actually. Sunday, like I expected, was very quiet. That was his mom’s day, so I tried not to bother him. Violet and Calvin kept me company.

The Andersons were nice people. Violet was always coming to the back and inviting me to join them for breakfast, and her husband enjoyed asking me about my life. Calvin was far more personable than his wife was, but they managed to balance one another out. Sunday evening was the first time I noticed Calvin’s memory issues. He had no idea who I was. I came inside and Violet had to tell him I was their daughter Nancy’s babysitter. He was under the assumption that she was still 10. I left them alone when Violet asked me to pick her up from school. She came out back a few hours later to thank me for going along with everything, and I made sure that she had my phone number in case she needed me to help out if things got out of hand.

It was still dark outside when I left Monday morning. Jimin and I agreed to meet up at 6 am to start our day, but I wanted to get to the gym early. Time to set up and get myself in the right headspace was important to me.

The location he had sent me was more remote than I had originally anticipated. Jimin owned the little gym. It had been a swim school in the past and the place he had first learned he loved the water. He and his mom went to classes together when he was young. The place had been too expensive for the previous owners to keep up with and they were planning on selling it, but Jimin bought it off of them and converted it into a public gym/pool.

In our text exchanges he called it his retirement plan, but I was sure the place meant more to him than that. He had no interest in it until after the cancer diagnosis. If I was to over analyze it, I would say he was trying to hold onto a happy memory. This was their place before sickness and death ran through his family. I would imagine anyone would want to keep something that held so much sentimental value if they could.

Pulling into the parking lot, I was first struck by two things. One, it was open and there were people inside, and two, it was huge. Most of the building was nothing but windows giving me a great view of the muscled men inside. Bright fluorescent lights made my sensitive eyes hurt, and I could hear the faint sound of music coming from somewhere near the gym. The small group of men were together, all of them lifting and spotting each other while talking, and a sense of dread filled my belly.

I was always anxious when I went to a new place, but a new gym was a nightmare. I had bad experiences in the past. Overly friendly creeps who liked to stand around and watch me while I worked out. None of the guys inside gave off bad vibes, but I was still in my car and none of them laid their eyes on me. A woman in a gym was like a drop of blood in water. I had to hope they were not sharks.

Gathering courage, I grabbed my duffle and made my way inside. A pretty, dark-skinned, young woman was sitting at the receptionist desk, and I felt more at ease. If they left her alone then maybe they would not cause me too much trouble either. The music was louder inside, and I recognized the Ciara song. It was a great one for cardio. Fighting the urge to dance, I greeted the receptionist. She put down her magazine and gave me an award-winning grin. She had a nice, dimpled smile.

“Hi there,” She had a thick, Southern accent and I could not tell you where she might be from. I was awful at telling them apart. “Do you have your membership card?”

I laughed nervously, my grip on my bag tightening. “No. I’m here to train with Jimin Park. He said I should have something on file.”

She nodded, her smile unwavering as she looked at her computer and asked for my name.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” I replied, foot tapping along to the Lil Wayne song that came on. I had this one on my own workout playlist back in 2008. I could not help mumbling the words under my breath, “She-she-she lick me like a lollipop.”

“Found you,” The girl grabbed a few sheets of paper from a pile on her side of the desk. “Just fill these out for me and we’ll get your card printed. Your fees have been paid already so no need to worry about that.”

I nodded, half listening. This song was great. Why has it been so long since I last heard it? I went to the gym all the time. I needed to put it back on my playlist. Honestly, the entire Carter III needed to find its way back into my rotation.

“My name’s Giselle if you need anything,” The receptionist pointed to a cluster of chairs right at the front entrance. “You’re super early so Christian isn’t here yet, but I’ll give you the key to the pool room so you can do whatever you need before the boss gets in.”

I smiled at her, “Thank you, Giselle.”

“Anytime, ma’am.”

It took me a few minutes to fill the paperwork out and scan my ID, but Giselle made everything as quick as she could. One of the men working out had come by to ask for some wipes to clean off a few of the machines but left without anything more than a ‘good morning’ thrown in my direction. When we passed by the rest of them on the way to the pool house, we were completely ignored, so it was safe for me to say that they would not be a problem for me in the future. Creeps were never subtle about their creepiness.

“I have to double check with Christian, but I think I’m supposed to give you a spare key,” Giselle said, unlocking the pool. “I’m just going to be sure before I promise you anything. Don’t want to get fired.”

I could tell she was joking. Jimin did not strike me as the type of guy to fire anyone over something like that. It only made sense for me to have a spare key since we would be coming around so much, and I would feel bad about disrupting the staff whenever I needed to get inside. They did not get paid enough to deal with that on top of all of the rest of their duties.

“We keep it locked until 9,” Giselle continued, leading the way inside. “Then we close it back up at 5. Maintenance comes in every Tuesday to treat the water, so you’ll have to be out of here no later than 7. Boss man knows this already so you shouldn’t have any problems with that.”

The pool room was very bland and bare bones. The smell of chlorine hung heavily in the air while the lights around the pool walls illuminated the dark room. It was very big, and I itched to go for a quick dip. The coolness of the water would be nice against my skin. I had grown hot with nerves and gotten a little sweaty.

“We have a few other staff members that will be in around the same time the boss man comes in,” Giselle continued to give me the rundown. “I’m sure he’ll introduce you to everyone just in case you need anything. I’d say make nice with Yoongi first. He’s our in-house massage therapist.”

Pointing to a door on the far-left wall, Giselle let me know that was the pool locker room and the door right next to it was a shortcut to the back offices. Management, marketing, and facility supervisors were usually all back there and I would more than likely never see them. They were not the most social people and worked from home a lot. I could tell by Giselle’s voice that she did not particularly care for management.

“Drew should be here by now,” She checked her smart watch. “She’s the general manager. I’m going to go and grab her and see about that key. She might come back to say ‘hi’ but don’t hold your breath.”

I chuckled, “That bad?”

Giselle rolled her eyes, “Drew’s fine, but Dominic is usually following her around everywhere and he’s annoying. You’ll get what I mean if you ever see them together.”

I laughed, “I’ve had my fair share of weirdos. Thanks again. I appreciate you showing me around.”

She beamed, “It wasn’t a problem. You gave me a reason to get up from the desk, so I’d say it’s a win.”

We spoke for a few more minutes until a very large, bulky man popped his head in looking for her. His black t-shirt clung to him tightly and his shorts were a hideous neon pink color. He did have a nice smile, one that took up most of his face and teeth so white they looked fake. Giselle introduced me very quickly, and the man, Sam, turned out to be one of the personal trainers on staff.

“You’re the Olympian, right?” Sam asked. Jimin must really like people who talked a lot, because I had never met more outgoing people in my life before moving here. Everyone he surrounded himself with was just full of energy, and I wondered if it was purposeful. Jimin himself was a rather quiet and sad person. “Jimin talks about you all the time.”

I laughed awkwardly, face heating, “That’s me.”

“Sick,” Suddenly an image of Sam surfing in California flashed through my mind. He just seemed like the type. “Well, I have to go and help out a client, but it was nice meeting you. Gigi, can you go back up front before Drew pitches a fit?”

Giselle sighed heavily, “Tell her I’m coming,” Looking at me she asked if I was okay on my own. “Come and get me if you need anything, okay?”

After assuring her that I was fine, Giselle left behind Sam. The two of them bickered like an old married couple, and I wondered about their relationship. He did call her a little nickname. I shook my head. Regardless, I had other things I needed to take care of before I could get lost in thought about two strangers.

Unpacking my duffle, I threw on my whistle and stopwatch before getting to work on my schedule. I had brought a lot of my personal swimming gear with me like training bands, coach communicator, and forearm fulcrum. Back in the day, I was the brand ambassador for Finis, so I had a lot of their products. The tracksuit I was wearing was from Speedo, and I had so much of their stuff for the same reason. Being a famous swimmer had its perks.

I had planned on doing a lot of drill and some short-burst efforts with Jimin. He had been without a PT for a few weeks now, and while I trusted him to stay in shape, it was no secret someone would be performing less on their own than with guidance. I did not want to over work him when he was, for all intents and purposes, been on a vacation. So, while I wanted to rush head-first into training, I would try to ease into things a bit before going full asshole on the kid. Like Victor would say, “Three times a week for three weeks.” After that, he was going to be at my mercy.

It was just past 6 when Jimin walked into the pool room. I was flipping through my training plan for the day and humming along to the music blasting through the speakers, echoing off the walls. Whoever was in charge of the playlist had a thing for the early 2000s.

“Morning,” His soft voice brought a smile to my face. He sounded tired. “What do you think about the place?”

Stealing a look at him, I had to hold back the gasp that I wanted to let out. He was wearing a black tank top and shorts giving me a great look at his skin. Embarrassed by my reaction, I internally scolded myself. I needed to get over this crush already. I was about to see a lot more of his body once he went to the back to change. I bit my lip. I had no idea how I was going to deal with him in a speedo.

“It’s very nice,” I was happy with how nonchalant I sounded. “Wasn’t expecting it to be so big.”

I wonder what else is big… I nibbled on the inside of my cheek. I really needed to get my mind out of the gutter. Scratch that- I should have dealt with this problem the second I realized it was there. I was going to force myself to call Hoseok today. He would know what to do, and if not, at least I could vent a little.

“Sleep okay?”

I jumped out of my ever-degrading thoughts.

“Yeah,” I sniffed. “Had fun with your mom? I wanted to give you two some space, so I stayed to myself.”

He smiled and I melted. Yeah, this needed to stop. I was too grown to be acting like this around a man.

“I appreciate it. We missed you at dinner, though. My dad kept complaining that things were quiet now.”

I chuckled, “Eloise and the kids not loud enough?”

He shook his head, “She didn’t come over.”

He tossed his sports bag next to mine and pulled out his swim gear. I caught a flash of his speedo and quickly looked away. The visuals going through my mind were distracting enough.

“Do you want to go over everything before I get changed?” Asked Jimin.

I shook my head, “No, go ahead. It’s going to be a chill day.”

“You got it, coach.”

I did not breathe until I heard the locker room door slam shut. Tossing my clipboard onto my bag, I roughly rubbed my face. I needed to pull myself together.

My attraction was easy to ignore and forget about when he was not in my face, but the second I got my eyes on him it was all I could focus on. I was awkward and fumbling all over the place whenever he was around. I focused on him far too much, far more than I should be due to our relationship, and it was driving me insane. I needed to take a breather, but I did not have enough time and I did not want to make him worried. Jimin seemed like the type of person who would become consumed by anxiety if he thought I was upset with him in any way. No, I would have to suck it up and get through this training session like an adult.

The locker room door opened. Jimin’s bare feet were loud against the gray, stone floor. I refused to look at him. I wasn’t ready yet. Bending over, I grabbed the clipboard and cleared my throat. I was hoping to get him in the water first, and then I could safely conduct myself in a professional way. The less skin I had to see at a time the better. I pointed at the pool.

“Like I said, it’s going to be an easy day,” He was walking away from me, and I felt the tightness in my chest lighten. “You’ve been without a trainer for a bit, and I’m not sure how intense your workouts have been since. Your warmup is just 10 minutes of easy swimming, and then we’ll go over our main set.”

I heard him get into the water with a splash and relaxed. I could handle him in the water. No one looked good with those stupid goggles on. I walked to the edge of the pool, clipboard in my hand, and stole a quick look.

As suspected, he did not look as potent like this. His hair was hidden beneath a red and white cap, and blue goggles obstructed most of his face. It was impossible to make out most of his body as he glided through the water, but I got a great look at his arms. He was more muscular than I gave him credit for. He was smaller and more lean than other swimmers, but I could see why he was able to dominate.

He was very fast, but I could already tell he was pushing harder than I wanted him to. Blowing my whistle, I let him know I only wanted him swimming at 80% effort. Jimin pulled a face and lifted his goggles up. Now that he was stagnant, I got a clear look at his chest and swallowed thickly. He needed to start moving or else I might have a heart attack.

“Why?” He was incredulous.

“Like I said, I don’t want you to overwork yourself. You’ve been on a vacation for four weeks now and we need to work our way back up to more intensive sets. It’ll only be for a couple of weeks.”

He pushed back again, “I’ve been coming here every day for hours. I think I’m fine.”

I shook my head, “I’m not trying to be a dick, and I’m not calling you a liar, but I am skeptical of the quality of the training.”

“But-”

“I haven’t been here to see your routine,” I cut him off before whatever smart ass comment he was planning to say could even come out. Jimin’s annoyance was plain as day, and I was not about to put up with a tantrum. “I’m known for being a hard ass, and I’m going to push you harder than you’ve ever been pushed before. You can ask Coach Bunch about me if you want. I will make sure you’re in the best shape of your life this year, but not at the expense of getting you injured.”

He took a deep breath before responding, “With all due respect, I’ve been putting in a lot of work by myself. I don’t think I need kid gloves.”

I smirked, cocking my head to the side. “Is that what you think this is?”

“Isn’t it?” He shrugged, pouting.

He was cute when he was mad.

“Humor me,” I replied. “We do things my way for the week and if I think you’re good to go by Friday then we’ll get back to normal training. How does that sound?”

Jimin thought for a moment before smiling at me.

“I can live with that.”

I chuckled, “Good to know. Now, put your goggles back on and finish your warmup. We’re wasting time arguing.”

As I suspected, once we started our drills, he did not perform up to the standards I had for him. Even at 75% what he was capable of, I could already see the areas he needed to work on. His butterflies were beautiful, but I could pick apart his breast and back strokes. I was happy with his free swim at the end, and I was going to start there the next session. I was hoping by starting off with compliments that we could become more comfortable with one another before I had to get serious. Those breast strokes would drive me insane until he could execute them perfectly every time.

“How am I doing?” Jimin asked during a cool down, doing a few laps before we started our drills again. “I know my breast strokes aren’t that great. I’ve always struggled with them.”

At least he was self-aware, I thought.

“We definitely have stuff to work on,” I replied. “Don’t worry too much about that right now. We can start talking about it more next week.”

He sighed, annoyed, and I laughed. He was very grumpy when it came to his swimming. Not wanting to upset him again, I decided to give him something.

“I would like to watch you swim a bit more and make a plan before giving you my opinion. My coach used to do that with me, and I found it helpful.”

We trained until eight-thirty, and I looked over my notes while Jimin cooled down. We did not talk as much as I would have liked, but it was probably for the best. His body was distracting, and I did not think I was doing a very good job at hiding my reactions to him. He did not seem to notice, or he was simply sparing my feelings, either way he was happy to keep relatively quiet. We only talked about training while he was in the water, and I was grateful he was maintaining his professionalism.

“When will we be back again?” Jimin asked, his last few minutes running down on the timer. “You said Wednesday, right?”

I nodded absentmindedly, in my own little world as I flipped through my notes. I had more than I thought I would have, all of them having to do with fixing his form and how we could go about it. New exercises, grueling training days, and a few new tools that I was not sure he had ever used before, would mold him into a swimmer I would glow with pride over. Park had always been a talented man, but I wanted to see if we could reach for something more. Something bigger and better than he could have imagined. I wanted to make Matthew fucking Hamilton look like the incompetent bastard I knew him to be.

“We’re done for the day,” I sighed, clicking the alarm off. “Do you want me to come for your night swim?”

Jimin ripped the goggles off, rubbing his eyes and already going to release his cap. I bit down on the inside of my mouth. He was so pretty and soft, and the way his muscles flexed as he swam to the edge of the pool made my stomach flutter. I looked away before he hoisted himself out of the water. I did not need that image floating around in my already depraved head.

“You can come if you want,” He replied casually. “I’m mostly hitting the gym when I’m here in the evenings. I only take a dip for thirty minutes and leave.”

I hummed, fighting the urge to look at his body. I focused instead on my breathing and writing down what he had just said. I did not want to forget that. It might be useful for me in the future. If we could exercise together, it would give me an opportunity to guide him through some of my favorite tricks to help with swimming.

“Will someone else be with you?”

“Probably Jungkook and Darcy. They’re my usual gym buddies when Milo is working.”

“Darcy’s his girlfriend, right?” I wanted to see if my hunch from the other night was right.

“Yeah. They’ve been going out for a couple of years now. She’s alright. Not as shy as you.”

I snorted, “You think I’m shy?”

Then I made a critical mistake. Looking over at Jimin, I nearly choked on my own spit. His skin was perfectly smooth, not a blemish in sight, and cream-colored. His body was just as pretty as his face, smooth abs and a tiny waist that led to toned and thick thighs. The tiny scrap of red fabric covering his private area did not stop my eyes from glancing. I looked away before I started to stare.

Hoseok was going to have a field day with this.

“I know you are,” He teased, his voice so soft and sweet. I briefly wondered what he would sound like in bed. I fought desperately to rid myself of that imagery. This could not be happening right now. “You’re so shy you can’t even look at me right now.”

His cocky attitude should have annoyed me, but instead it only further fueled my lust. Every time I had seen this man, he gave me such tonal whiplash it was beginning to drive me insane. First it was this innocent little angel facade that quickly became sarcastic and witty when he decided he could play around without me getting angry. Then it was the whole sad puppy thing he had going on for the last week. Now here he was, practically naked and getting riled up over me telling him what to do, and puffing his chest with confidence I never thought he was capable of. It would have pissed me off if I did not find him ridiculously attractive.

“Go get dressed, Park,” My voice was clipped and too harsh. I winced and quickly worked to soften the blow. Getting defensive only made me look worse. “We can get breakfast if you’re not busy. My treat.”

“Sure, coach.”

When I heard the locker room close, I let out a deep sigh. My sexual frustration was getting in the way of my work, and I hated it. Pulling my phone from my back pocket, I sent Hoseok a text.

Me: I think I’m crushing on Park

Me: Help me get rid of it

The reply did not come until I was done packing up my things. The workout stuff I had brought with me had been useless today, but I was afraid of forgetting where they were the next time I might need them, so they never left the bag. My phone vibrated just as I was done zipping up my bag. I could hear the shower in the locker room and clenched my thighs together. I was still thinking of how pretty his belly was, the tattoo on his ribs pitch-black against his pale skin, and how solid his calves looked. I unlocked my phone and nearly cried laughing when I saw the response.

Hobi: HAHAHAHA

Hobi: Sex is always the answer

Hobi: Never thought I’d see the day you became a cougar

I have no idea why I thought he would be any help. So, I licked my wounds and messaged Andy (like I should have done in the first place) and knew whatever she had to say would be far more helpful than my stupid best friend’s word of “advice.” I just had to hope it would be enough to make all of these feelings stop.

Taglist: @ownthesunshine @screamertannie @lovelytaes-blog @pernesianparapio @tae-with-some-suga

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zepskies · 10 months ago

Text

Being Human – Part 1

Pairing: Alec McDowell x F. Reader

Summary: Your life made sense before Alec slipped his way in. He unravels your threads without even trying. He frustrates you as easily as he weasels back into your good graces. But you soon realize that this man is worth the challenge.

AN: This is technically my first Dark Angel story, since I wrote Part 1 of this before "Bullseye." It will be four parts. I hope you enjoy!

Chapter Summary: You’ve managed to keep things playful and friendly with Alec so far, despite his flirtatious nature. But when he asks you for a favor that goes painfully awry, the transgenic has to figure out something that wasn’t in his training: how to apologize. [Set during 2.06]

Word Count: 5,000

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Tension, angst, spiciness, implied smut.

💜 Series Masterlist

Part 1: Training Day

As sad as it is, this is probably your favorite place in the world.

Crash is as divey as a dive bar can get. And yet, it still boasts the strongest, cheapest drinks in Seattle. The music is decent, and the company is good. At least tonight it is, because you’ve met up with Max, Original Cindy, and Sketchy after a long day of slinging packages.

The only problem?

The newest member of Jam Pony, slinking up from the corner of your eye and easing into the seat next to you at the bar.

You turn an expectant gaze to Alec McDowell and his flirtatious green eyes. They take in your jeans and halter top with an obvious perusal.

“Can I help you?” you ask dryly.

“No, no. It’s what I can do for you,” he replies. You’re about to roll your eyes when he adds, “Let me buy you a beer. Or whatever you’re drinking.”

Just then, the bartender slides you the beer you’ve already ordered. You thank him and give Alec a smile.

“Got it covered, thanks,” you reply, sipping the froth off your drink.

Alec sighs and crosses his arms. “When are you gonna stop putting the freeze on me?”

“When I’m not part of your internal checklist of Breasts on Legs,” you retort. Glancing around the bar, you note three other girls you’ve already seen him shoot his shot with tonight.

Alec scoffs and holds his chest.

“That’s hurtful,” he claims. “It really is.”

But he shifts toward you in his seat, cutting off your smile. Your face warms at his proximity.

Damn, he smells good, you think.

“Besides,” he says, “I always save the best for last.”

His smile makes your heart beat faster, though you eye him wryly. He opens his smartass mouth to say something else, but you get a reprieve when Original Cindy slides into the seat on your other side. She tosses you a wink.

It gives you just enough confidence to smirk in Alec’s face.

“Keep trying. Maybe someday I’ll lose my mind,” you say, with a teasing raise of brows.

Alec is still amused as he shakes his head. “You’re unbelievable. Insulting, yet, still somehow endearing.”

“Don’t wanna get clowned, don’t act like a clown,” you tell him sweetly.

“I know that’s right,” Cindy quips. She orders a Cosmo to upgrade her beer. She must’ve won a bet tonight, if she was able to score enough cash for liquor.

“Hilarious,” Alec says. He pouts a little. “Hey, I’m not some mongrel on the loose. I’m just looking for some honest companionship.”

“Honest?” you laugh. “Now that’s hilarious.”

He gives you a fake laugh, but he watches you go when you slip away from him to join Max and Sketchy in the back room by the pool table. Alec’s smile fades a little.

Cindy raises a brow at him, along with a tan finger.

“No,” she says. “You actually crushin’ on homegirl? For real?”

Alec glances at her. “Where’d you get that idea?”

She gives him a flat look.

“Should I burn some sage?” she asks.

Alec shakes his head and rolls his eyes.

“Come on. I think Max is calling us over.”

When the two of them venture over to where you and Max are playing a game of pool, Alec’s cocky smile is back. His eyes catch yours when he sits down at a nearby table. Your lips curve while you lean on your pool cue.

For the past few weeks, this is how it’s always been with you and Alec. Push and pull. A sort of caustic flirtation that you can’t in good conscience take seriously. But to his credit, he always tries.

And he seems to always mean it.

You’ll never admit it, but it’s getting harder and harder for you to resist the pull of him. He’s clearly a guy who doesn’t do attachments, and you have a bad habit of getting attached. Your life is hard enough without adding a dash of heartbreak into the mix.

So Max helps you sharpen your skills at this game while you finish your beer. And…maybe you “unintentionally” tease Alec a little with the curve of your ass when you’re bent over the table, lining up a shot.

In fairness, you’re a bit tipsy.

You spend the rest of the night drinking two more beers and laughing and losing the game—first to Max, then to Alec, and finally to Sketchy. By then, you know it’s time to cut your losses.

You haul your backpack onto your shoulder and start to head out of the bar. But who should slip into your way than Alec freakin’ McDowell?

“Hey, I’ve got a quick question for you,” he says.

You sigh. “Alec, the usual sniping was fun, but I’m tired and I want to go home.”

He stops you with a touch on your arm. He seems slightly more serious.

“It’s a favor,” he says, pulling out a small rectangular package wrapped in plain brown paper. You look down at it in confusion.

“I saw on the work chart that you’re scheduled to go over to Sector 4 tomorrow,” he says. “Would you mind delivering this for me?”

Your brows raise at him. He raises $20 in front of your face.

“I’ll make it worth your while,” he smiles.

You take the $20 and the package, though you’re still a little uncertain.

“What’s in it?”

Alec leans in close to your ear. “I’ll give you an extra $10 if you don’t ask.”

His voice washes over you and makes your skin prickle. You’re blushing, but your eyes narrow at him further.

“Make it $20,” you counter.

He scoffs. Though after a moment…he coughs up the extra cash.

“The most expensive damn delivery I’ve never made,” he mutters.

You have to crane your neck a bit, as he stands over a head taller than you, but you smile up at him brightly.

“Pleasure doing business with you,” you say.

For him, maybe the expense was worth it to get that smile.

You pull up on your bike to what you think is the right address. You don’t usually come to this side of town, even in Sector 4.

It feels a bit like a shanty town and a meat packing district all at once—complete with dodgy-looking street vendors and unmarked vans loading and unloading cargo behind them.

“Can I help you, little girl?”

You stifle a gasp as your path is suddenly obstructed. A black man and his two white friends have crowded around your bike, but they don’t look normal. Various metal spikes and prods protrude from their faces, neck, and body, but they’re not your typical piercings. The metal is fused into their skin.

Oh shit, you think, as your heartrate picks up. Steelheads.

“I’m just making a delivery,” you tell them. Your eyes dart to your surroundings, trying to catch anyone’s gaze for a little help.

But in big cities like this, everyone knows to keep their eyes down.

Don’t look, don’t tell. Don’t get any trouble.

“I think you might be lost, love,” says one of the other men. He’s British, by the sound of his accent, and is the taller of the two. His skin is pale, though there’s a red ring under his eyes that suggests drugs, or whatever else these three are injecting into themselves.

“Uhh, yeah. I must be. I’ll just go,” you nod, and you start to back up. The ringleader Brit clamps a bony hand on your bike to stop you. He grabs the scrap of paper Alec gave you, which holds the address for your intended delivery.

The Steelhead examines it lazily, before his gaze flicks back up to yours.

“Well, well. I stand corrected,” he says. He gestures to the small package in your hands. “What’s in it?”

You shrug and try to play off your ignorance. Because the truth is, you have no idea.

“It’s not my job to know,” you reply.

“Ah, but you see, it’s our business to know,” the Brit says, leaning in towards you. You lean back with pursed lips.

“This is our little piece of paradise,” says the shortest one. His lips are damn near purple.

“We’re what you call…territorial,” says the leader. He grabs you off your bike while the first man takes the package from you.

“Hey, I don’t want any trouble,” you say, though you hate the way your voice shakes. “I can just go—”

“Oh, we’ll let you go, little mouse. You’re gonna give a message back to sender,” the Brit says. “But first, a reminder.”

He shoves you back into the nearest wall. It’s solid brick that stuns a gasp out of you. He presses in on you, grabbing your face and dragging a sharp, unnaturally long nail against your cheek, biting into the skin.

It’s painful enough to make you whimper as you feel wetness drip down to your neck. His friends laugh at your discomfort, at your fear. You’re too frozen to reach for the pepper spray in your pocket…

“What’s going on here?” another man asks. Out of the corner of your eye you spot a black uniform. For the first time in your life, you’re grateful to see a cop.

The Steelhead releases you, and the three of them are subtle in the way they back off from you.

“Nothing here, officer,” the leader says. Though he gives you a smirk. “Just accepting a delivery.”

You let them keep the package and pretend that a signature has made it onto your clipboard. You climb back onto your bike and you leave Sector 4 without looking back. All the while, your arms shake and you wipe at the blur of tears in your eyes.

When you get back to the Jam Pony base of operations (a warehouse that feels like a basement), you park your bike out front and head inside.

Your legs still feel precarious. And even though the blood is dry against the cut on your cheek, you know you need to clean and disinfect it at some point.

Of course, you have to run into Alec and Sketchy, who are palling around without a care in the world.

That all stops when they turn to look at you. Their mirth dies on their faces. Alec’s gaze runs over you and stops at your cheek. You dab at your face, tentative and self-conscious. You know you must look like hell. Of course, they can’t let you just go to your locker in peace.

“Jeez, what the hell happened to you?” Sketchy asks.

You shake your head. “Fell into a bush.”

You drag Alec aside by his arm, giving him a warning look that further lets him know you’re lying. He follows you without complaint over to the lockers, where you two have the semblance of privacy. Before he can ask you what really happened, you snap at him.

“What the hell was in that package?” you ask. “Drugs? A weapon? Some other contraband? Do you know what could’ve happened to me if I’d gotten caught with that shit? Do you know what almost…”

Tears burgeon in your eyes all over again, and you have to take a deep, shaky breath.

Alec’s brows furrow in what might actually be concern. He grasps your arm, gentle but firm.

“Hey, tell me what happened,” he says.

Unconsciously, his grip on your arm makes the memory flash in your mind: of that pale, greasy man grabbing you and pinning you against the wall.

You shrug out of Alec’s hold more harshly than you meant to. It makes him raise a placating hand, as his eyes widen a fraction.

“A gaggle of Steelheads,” you say. You breathe tremulously, blinking past your tears. “I was lucky…anyway. Next time you want to ask me for a favor? Don’t.”

You brush past Alec to get to your locker. There you grab the rest of your things and head out, though it’s quite a few hours before closing time. Nothing gets by Normal, who stops you at the reception desk.

“Hey, hey, Missy! Where the hell’re you going?” he asks. “Get back here. I’ve got packages that need homes.”

“I’m taking some much needed PTO,” you quip.

“You don’t have PTO. It’s not that kind of business,” Normal says.

“Then bite me,” you snap. “How’s that?”

Most of the room stills into quiet shock. You feel the weight of their gazes, your coworkers and friends, including Normal’s slackened face.

You’re normally not one to talk back. You accept your assignments without question, not wanting to cause undue trouble for yourself. Like everyone else here, you need your job, and you have nothing to fall back on.

But it’s enough, and you’re thoroughly done with today.

Your saving grace is that it’s plain to see how shaken up you are, even when you leave. Alec approaches the receptionist desk with Sketchy, drumming his hand on the counter absently.

“What the hell crawled up her keister?” Normal remarks. “She’s lucky I’m short staffed right now, or she’d be in the can.”

Despite his strong talk, he resumes collecting paperwork and organizing files to distract himself from how much you’d taken him aback.

Alec frowns.

“She uh, had to deal with some Steelheads,” he offers, and hesitates. “...What the hell’s a Steelhead?”

“Yeah, you know, they’re into implants and biotech stuff,” Sketchy explains.

“She would know better than to hang out with those low lives,” Normal interjects. “They’re amped off their gourds on hormones and who knows what else.”

Alec processes that with a deepening frown. He decides to head out onto his next “delivery.”

He makes it to Sector 4 on his bike within an hour, but he still envies Max’s motorcycle. When he racks up enough cash, he’s definitely scoring a faster ride.

For now, he pulls up near the address he sent you to earlier. He never should’ve given you his drugs to sell, especially when he clearly doesn’t know this city well enough yet.

Poor reconnaissance, Alec, he thinks. Sloppy.

Though when did he start to think of himself as Alec and not by his designation, 494?

He’s soon taken out of his musings when he sees a gaggle of three men outside a cargo van. Each of them is uglier than the last, with metal spikes, among other things sticking out from their bodies. Steelheads. They’ve got to be.

These are the guys who harassed you.

“Excuse me, gentlemen,” Alec says, climbing off his bike. The men turn to the newcomer with suspicious frowns.

“I’m looking for three fugly Steelheads that hassled a friend of mine this morning,” he says.

One is tall, pale and wiry, and he opens his arms wide. “Well, you found ‘em.”

He has a British accent. The sight of him alone grates on Alec, though all he shows is calm confidence. He teases the short one, who seems to be missing an arm. Apparently he’s “pre-op,” set to get a new cyber arm made of Japanese steel.

Fucking wackos, Alec thinks. Manticore could learn a thing or two from these guys about mutilation.

“Here’s the thing, fellas,” Alec says. “My friend was carrying a package that didn’t belong to her. It belonged to me. You guys took it, and I need to get it back.”

The first man scoffs. “There seems to be a breakdown in communication, doesn’t it?”

He approaches Alec, hands on his hips, with his two cronies behind him. Alec can already smell their stench from where he stands. He doesn’t need them to get any closer.

“Maybe your little bitch didn’t relay our message,” he says, pushing his luck.

Alec’s smile sharpens; a deadly warning in and of itself.

“Nobody around here sells Andy but us,” says another of them.

Androxtamine. Alec didn’t care to be a drug dealer. It was just a means to an end in order to pay Max back for her help a little while back. Now, his buyer is pissed that he didn’t get his damn drugs, and Alec is out $500.

He tries to explain that calmly to this group of weirdos, but the leader is just so damn cocky.

“What’s a puff like you need with $500 anyway, eh?” he asks.

Alec’s smirk deepens. He mimics the guy’s accent and replies, “Actually, I need it for a ride on your mum.”

Well, the Steelheads don’t take too kindly to that. They try their best, Alec will hand it to them. But his genetics and training make the resulting “fight” no more than child’s play. He takes his frustrations out of their asses.

He can’t help being slightly more brutal than necessary when he remembers the fear lingering behind your eyes. The bloody cut on your cheek. The way it could’ve been so much worse…

And it would’ve been your fault. Alec’s lips press into a line.

Logan Cale, Max’s rich non-boyfriend and secret “Eyes Only” vigilante, calls Alec halfway through his venting session to, surprisingly, ask for his help.

Alec agrees, because it’s mainly for Max. A creature has been killing cops in Seattle. Unfortunately, the description of a “man-dog” sounds way too much like Joshua, their fellow transgenic in hiding.

It also means Alec has to spend most of his afternoon in a musty sewer.

The job ends up being a bitch and a half, even when Max finally shows up to help out. The true culprit ends up being Joshua’s brother, Isaac, who Joshua is forced to stop before he kills any more policemen who remind him of Manticore’s abusive guards.

The gentle Joshua ends up having to take out his own brother. Something that’s both familiar, and foreign to Alec. (But he’s sure it’s not so foreign to Max.)

It’s a harrowing scene, and a touch too emotional for Alec’s comfort. He leaves Max to tend to Joshua in the aftermath and catches a ride home with Logan. Somehow though, as bone tired and grimy as he feels, Alec can’t feel right about going home just yet.

Something is niggling in the back of his mind, forcing him to hand Logan a scrap of paper that holds your address. (Alec might’ve snuck into Normal’s office before he left for the day to find out where you lived on your employee file.)

“Hey, can you stop at this address?” Alec asks.

Logan glances at the piece of paper and nods. He then looks over at Alec. They aren’t friends, but Logan is perceptive enough to know that something’s weighing on his passenger.

“Everything okay?” Logan asks.

“There’s something I have to do,” Alec supplies.

When they eventually arrive to what seems like an abandoned building, Logan looks over at Alec.

“Good luck,” he offers.

Alec nods gratefully. They aren’t friends, but he supposes Logan’s not so bad, even if he is a slave to Max’s supposed charms.

Alec gets out of the car and head inside the building. It’s old and dirty, and he really can’t believe you live like this. It lacks security and basic hygiene. If he wanted to, he could kick straight through your door with half of his strength.

Instead, he knocks.

A few moments later, he hears your feet padding cautiously to the door.

“Who is it?” you ask. Your voice is familiar and pleasant to his ears, if nervous.

“It’s me, Alec,” he replies.

It takes a second of your hesitation, but you unlock the door and open it.

He eyes your tank-top and shorts, the thin bra, your damp hair, the smell of your shampoo assaulting his heightened senses.

But the jagged red line across your cheek draws his attention, along with the confusion in your eyes, and the wooden spoon in your hand. Was that supposed to be your weapon of choice?

“What’re you doing here?” you ask. “How’d you even know where I live?”

“Ah, I told Normal I wanted to check on you. Make sure you weren’t going AWOL on the job tomorrow,” Alec says with a teasing smile.

You look a bit skeptical, but you let him in when he asks if he can. He smells whatever you’re cooking, spots the metal pot of pasta sauce simmering on the janky-looking stove, and his mouth starts to water. He’s starving, now that he thinks about it.

He then focuses on taking in the rest of the apartment…and it doesn’t take him long. This place is a shoebox.

At least it’s clean, as much as the peeling drywall can be.

“Why’re you here then?” you ask. Alec turns to see you have a hand on your hip. You’re staring at him like he’s a puzzle you’re trying to figure out.

You set down the wooden spoon on the counter and face him. Alec’s tempted to brush a stray strand of hair out of your eyes, but he keeps his arms down to his sides instead.

“About what happened today,” he says. “Those guys aren’t going to be a problem for you again.”

You tilt your head at him.

“What’d you do?” you ask with furrowed brows. “Something shy of legal?”

Alec starts to smile. “Maybe.”

You hmph in response. “Can’t say I’m surprised.”

Alec barely resists rolling his eyes, though he knows he deserves that. Once again, he takes in your apartment. It’s cozy, he supposes, if small.

“You live alone?” he asks. “No roommate? Boyfriend?”

“I don’t see how it’s any of your business,” you say dryly. “But no. To both.”

That satisfies him, and yet there’s a little churn in his gut. This place is questionable at best. Doesn’t exactly boast decent security. He’s not too worried about the Steelheads trying to find you, but after the past few months outside of Manticore, he realizes how rough it’s become for humanity after the Pulse, especially for a woman alone.

“You could use a doorman around here,” he remarks.

You scoff in amusement. “Yeah, well. It may not be the Ritz, but as long as the heater doesn’t crap out on me, it’s a decent day.”

Alec doesn’t know what the Ritz is, but it sounds nicer than this dump.

You catch the silent look of judgment on his face, making you frown and cross your arms.

“I can take care of myself just fine, okay, Dad?”

Alec frowns and gestures to your face. “Yeah. Right. You’re little miss Fight Club.”

That sparks your temper. You glare up at him with a defiant tilt to your chin.

“This,” you point to your marred cheek, “wouldn’t have happened if it weren’t for you. I’m not an idiot. I don’t put myself in stupid situations, except for that one time I ignored my better judgment to help you!”

Alec glowers back at you, but he knows he doesn’t have a good defense. You take a step into his orbit and tap a finger into his chest.

“And by the way,” you add. Your voice cracks like a whip. “Whoever taught you how to apologize did a bang up job!”

By the end of your little rant, you’re breathing deeply, and Alec is barely holding onto his own temper. What cuts through it all are the frustrated tears brimming in your eyes.

He sighs internally.

They didn’t exactly cover this in training, he thinks, but he supposes that's just…Being Human 101.

All too soon, your anger dims into defensiveness. You withdraw from him and gesture to the door.

“Now if you don’t mind, please get out of my shithole apartment so I can finish cooking in peace,” you gripe.

“Wait, wait,” Alec implores, when you try to lead him out. He lets you back him up a step or two, just to seem human, but now he digs his heels in. He looks down at you with true regret.

“I’m sorry,” he says. His hand finds your unmarred cheek, caressing softly. His thumb swipes across your skin. “I am. I shouldn't have asked you to make that delivery. I'm sorry you got hurt.”

You stare up at him, breathing labored, and making your breasts just barely brush his sternum. Your eyes search his just as much as he is yours.

He isn’t actually sure who moves first, him or you. But when his lips meet yours, it feels like electricity under his skin. It’s magnets that are meant to connect—it’s his arms wrapping around your waist like steel bands and you grabbing his face, sinking your fingers into his sandy brown hair.

It’s teeth clicking and tongues warring as he backs you up to the kitchen counter, and he hefts you up there by your hips.

You squeal in surprise, making Alec chuckle before he swallows your sounds with his mouth.

You start to push his jacket off his shoulders, and he helps you, letting the rest of it slide right off, followed by his shirt and your tank top. His hands smooth up your bare thighs and his thumbs dip in between, squeezing near the apex of your thighs and making you tremble against his chest. Warmth pools in your core even from that simple touch.

“W-Wait,” you whisper.

It makes Alec pause. His muscles tense. Has he read you wrong?

He searches your face for a sign of discomfort. If you don’t want this, it’ll be…hard, at this point (for more reasons than one). But if he has to, he’ll let you go.

He’s relieved when you only twist away for a moment to turn off the stove. You return to him with a smile as your hands come to rest on his chest. You bite your lower lip.

“Shall we continue?” he teases.

His thumb encourages you to let go of your lip. He takes your chin between his fingers and guides you back to him.

The next kiss burns with a slower passion. One that consumes you enough to hook your arms around his neck and your legs around his hips.

He grins against your lips and lifts you again, this time holding you firmly against him. You make another sound of surprise, but you don’t let that stop you from delving deeper into his kiss.

He carries you into the bedroom and slams the rickety door.

Afterwards, the two of you lay together on the wrong side of your bed.

Alec lies on his stomach and you on your back. The night had gotten such that you stopped caring which side you typically put your pillow on. Your hair is fanned out on the mattress in many tangles he took pride in creating.

A shitty show plays on your small TV, but Alec is watching with rapt attention.

He’s kind of cute about it actually, you think. Like he’s never seen a soap opera before.

“Ooh, that one’s my favorite,” you point backwards. “It’s about a sexy doctor, obviously.”

“Right, because I’m sure doctors always have this much sex with their patients,” Alec quips.

You snort and shake your head. You stare at the side of his face for a moment, rather than the TV.

The back of his hand rubs against your shoulder, earning your attention.

“What’re you thinking?” he asks. He’s still looking at the screen.

“That I’m even hungrier now, but I don’t feel like getting up,” you admit with a giggle. He laughs.

“I wouldn’t mind some chow,” he says.

You roll onto your stomach, taking some of the sheets with you when your knee slides over, resting against his naked lower back. You lean your chin on his shoulder as your hand travels across his back.

“Is that your way of inviting yourself over for dinner?” you ask.

He looks over at you then. He’s grinning, but his eyes are a touch softer, you think.

“If you don’t mind me crashing,” he says.

You shake your head and sift your fingers through his hair. Your gaze drifts down the back of his neck and catches on a strange mark. It’s a barcode, you realize, touching it lightly with two fingers.

“What’s this? A prison tat?” you tease.

He chuckles humorlessly. “Sort of.”

Your amusement fades, but your soft fingers along the back of his neck elicit a small shiver out of him. Your touch is gentle. He isn’t used to gentle, and it makes goosebumps spread across his skin. He feels your lips press a kiss to his shoulder next, and he turns his head to look at you.

Beautiful, he thinks, taking in your face again, and the hint of cleavage down the sheets covering you, hiding the familiar curves he had all too much fun exploring.

“You gonna tell me the story?” you ask. “Or save it for a rainy day?”

Alec lets out a sigh through his nose. “Let’s pencil that one under the ‘Rainy’ column.”

You nod in agreement and bite your lip. These days, everyone has a story they’re not proud of. Even something that keeps them up at night. You don’t press Alec for his.

He’s grateful for that. He leans in and kisses you, nice and slow.

From the beginning, he noticed you. Your tenacity. Your quiet confidence. How you’re always willing to help your friends, and how you’ve never taken any of his shit, even if he knew part of you had been contemplating his suggestive offers. That spark always kept him coming back for more…and somehow, it became more.

In the back of his mind, this scares him a little. Being with you feels dangerous in a way that feels both familiar and foreign, but it’s too late. He’s been hooked by the pull of you. It’s a craving he can’t help but try and fill. Hopefully, not just tonight.

“You said something about food?” he grins.

You smile and lean in again, until you’re mere inches from his lips.

“Hmm, impromptu dinner date?” you offer. Alec laughs quietly and nods.

“We kinda went about this backwards,” you say, “but if you like spaghetti and plain sauce, I’m your girl.”

He smirks at that, and thumbs at your chin.

“Then you’re my girl.”

AN: And there's Part 1! It's only my second time writing Alec, so I hope he feels in character. Let me know what you think of this little series so far. 😘💜

There's much more in store over the next three parts, and the next one tackles perhaps my favorite episode (2.11), even if it's the most gutting.

Next Time:

“All right, that’s enough outta you,” Alec says, and he claims you with a more demanding kiss. His fingers sink into your hair tightly.

But you press your hand to his cheek, making him pause for a moment. The amusement fades from his eyes the longer he stares into yours. You’re not teasing or joking anymore.

You kiss him then with meaning. With tenderness.

You don’t know how it makes that coil of guilt grip him like a vice.

Keep Reading: PART 2

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dollscircus · 3 months ago

Text

Swing first, ask later. Chapter 2

(In my defence , I was trying to help a dog)

Chapter 1

Arkham Knight Jason Todd x vet!Reader

Words: 2.6k

Tags: Violence. Violence against reader. but they're fiiiiine.

Synopsis: You have little impulse control so when you slip through a fence to chase a stray dog, you get a lot more then you bargained for.

Maybe I should’ve thought more about those nights’ events going through the next few weeks but I kinda- pushed it to the back of my mind. Listen- being a vet can be stressful when half of the patients want to bite me in the face and sometimes even their bitchy owners want to do the same. It’s a struggle so yeah, I kinda forgot about it. Forgot isn’t the right word- pushed back? Sure. That works.

But back on topic, I was walking down the street during a usual rainy night in Gotham. I had gotten a call from a local that they had stopped a large stray dog wondering around near an old warehouse. They didn’t tell me much, but apparently the dog had been limping so I wanted to get there as soon as possible. The warehouse was old, so I didn’t pay it much mind which searching around for the dog.

Eventually I noticed a little white head poking from behind a dumpster, his fur was messy and dirty. He watched me curiously, I paused for a moment while looking at the dog.

“Oh hey handsome.” I smiled, kneeling down where I stood while pulling a small tub of wet dog food out of my bag. “I’ve got some food for you.”

I popped open the tub and set it on the ground slowly pushing it forward, the dog ever so slowly crept out from behind the dumpster. I couldn’t tell what breed the dog was, clearly a mix of many breeds. He sniffed the air while creeping closer, he was limping on his back left leg. I stayed as still as I could as the dog creeped closer, looking at me with big fearful sad eyes.

“It’s ok buddy, I’m not going to hurt you.” I said softly to him as he reached the tub, sniffing at the food for a few moments before he started to eat very quickly. I chuckled softly while watching him eat, a part of me wanted to reach out and pet him but decided against it.

I smiled softly while watching the dog, but a sudden sound caused both the dog and I to jump. The sound was probably as cat running around in the darkness. The dog scattered away from me with a little yelp, I cursed while watching the dog slip under a gap in the fence that surrounded the warehouse. This gave me a quick but decent look at his back leg. There was a wire tightly wrapped around his leg. The skin looked raw and infected.

“Fuck.” I cursed while gathering up the food tub and shoving it back into my bag. Logically, I’ve seen enough horror movies to know that crawling through a fence to a sketchy warehouse is a really terrible idea. Stupid. Reckless but hey, I grew up on the streets of Gotham. I’ve been in worst places.

The torn fence scratched at me a little while I crawled under the fence on my hands and knees, my hips got caught for a moment before I used all of my weight to pull myself forward. I huffed while standing up to look at my dirty hands, grumbling under my breath while wiping my hands on my pants.

Scanning around, I tried to spot the dog luckily I spotted the pup pretty quickly and he was standing by another dumpster watching me.

“Hey puppy.” I smiled while slowly walking over to the dog who was watching me with big curious eyes, I knelt down and offered my hand out with some dog treats. He sniffed my hand, clearly thinking for a moment before he started to eat. I chuckled softly when seeing his tail start to wag.

“Yeah, that’s the stuff. That’s our fancy treats.” I smiled while my other hand reached for the slip on leash I carried in my bag, I made sure to move very slowly while slipping it over his head. He didn’t seem to mind, licking my hand as his tail wagging weakly.

“See? I’m not so scary.” I chuckled softly before another sound startled me, one of the metal doors of the warehouse slamming open. Oh fuck. I snapped my head to look over my shoulder, only to come face to face with a heavily armoured guy, he had a cigarette between his teeth about to light it before he slowly turned his head over to me. I tensed up.

God fucking dammit. The one time my body picked freeze. Thanks.

The next few moments were filled with cursing, barking and snarling. It was mostly all a blur, I think- I bit him? I tasted blood between my teeth, and felt blood dripping down my head when he slammed my head into the dumpster then the scream he let out when the dog sunk his teeth into his arm and wrenched it side to side ripping flesh.

The next clear memory I had was scrambling up to my feet, the leash still in hand (woah 10 outta 10 priorities there) and trying to run away with the dogs whose muzzle was still dripping with blood. My head was spinning with pain as I tried to run away but a sudden white hot pain shot through my calf sending my tumbling to the ground. I looked back at my leg, it seeped with blood. Looking further back I saw the man I just struggled with still holding the gun he shot my leg with.

He shot me. He fucked shot me!? Oh- that mother fucker-

I let go of the leash so the dog wasn’t tied to me and the dog ran away whimpering. I winced in pain while looking at my leg then flickering my eye up to the man while he spoke into a radio attached to his chest. Soon he stood over me, the swirling head pain stopped me from making out what he was really saying. I could see the blood splatter across his face- ooo I bit off some of his ear.

He said something but my head was killing me. All sounds seemed so distant and my head felt heavy. Don’t pass out, don’t pass out. Don’t pass out. Please. I begged myself while looking up at the figure. Fear and anger swirled in my chest while I tried to keep myself awake but I was quickly fading.

As everything seemed so distant and painful, another figure was approaching quickly. It was vaguely familiar but I couldn’t make out much. My vision was hazy when the figure swung for the first man, fist slamming into his temple.

Huh. That reminded me of someone?

—

I don’t know what I expected to wake up to when I passed out, I remembered the sound of bones cracking from the figure striking the man who attacked me. I woke up to warmth, warmth surrounding me as I woke up. My body was sore, aching with a dull pain while my heavy eyes tried to open. I didn’t know where I was, blinking in the dull light while I started to sit up in the cot bed I was laying in. I blinked a few times when seeing the dog, I was trying to catch curled up at the bottom of the bed. Back leg wrapped in a bandage.

Confusion clouded a lot of my judgment while looking around, welded metal walls. A desk in the corner of the room covered in papers. I couldn’t make out what else was written on the papers from this distance. I tried to move when pain shot through my leg, I hissed in pain before looking down at my bandaged leg. Where was I?

I glanced over the room again but jumped when seeing him on a chair in the corner of the room, sitting on a chair with his arms crossed over his check. The Arkham Knight. I stared at him, thinking back to the last thing I remembered before passing out. The figure. It was him and that punch. He swung with his whole body. I remembered Jason swinging his punches like that.

“You shouldn’t try to move to much yet.” He said after a moment of staring at each other. That almost made me laugh. I frowned a little at him.

“You patched me up.” I said, looking down at the bandage. The criss cross pattern caught my attention. Huh. Memories from my childhood flashed through my mind. Kneeling behind a dumpster while Jason wrapped up my arm after a stray cat I was trapping clawed up my arm painfully.

“I’m not as skilled with my hands as you.” He said, arms still crossed over his chest.

“Why?” I asked, eyes flicking down when the dog raised his head and yawned. Wagging his tail at me. The knight tilted his head to the side ever so slightly.

“Repaying the favour.” He said, like it was a very simple fact but I didn’t believe that completely. I moved to swing my legs off the bed, he tensed a little at my movement but I barely noticed it.

“There’s gotta be more to it. You could’ve just dumped me as the hospital or something.” I said, looking down to the dog who started to shuffle down the bed to sniff at my arm. I smiled softly at the dog while reaching down to pet the top of his head. The knight huffed, the sound coming out distorted by the helmet.

“That would be rude to the person you didn’t call the cops of me, when they really should’ve.” He said, voice a mix with amusement and irritation. I suddenly remembered comparing him to a stray dog, embarrassment crept up my neck.

“Then what about the dog? You didn’t owe him anything.” I raised an eyebrow at him. He didn’t respond staring at me, I couldn’t read him behind the helmet. Another question lingered in the back of my mind that I pushed away.

“What happened to the guy that shot me?” I asked another question furrowing my brow a little, he didn’t respond at first. I thought he wouldn't answer me at all until he did so.

“He’s dead.” He said, a few moments passed between us. “Does that scare you?”

I thought for a moment, did it? Maybe it was a little morbid. The guy shot me but I didn’t like someone dying.

“Scare me? No, I don’t- like it.” I said, fingers brushing through the fur of the dog. “If you were going to hurt me, you’d have done it already.”

He seemed to bristle a little, adjusting his position on the uncomfortable chair he was perched on. I looked back on my leg before I started to try and pull myself up. “I appreciate the help but I need to go-”

Pain seared through my leg as I started to fall forward, losing balance due to the sudden shock of pain. I cursed feeling myself about to fall but I felt arms bracing against my shoulders. I flicked my eyes up to the knight as he was suddenly leaning over my body as his hands kept me steady.

He said my name, “You can't be moving around on that leg yet.” He warned. I didn't realise how much bigger than me, he was until he was leaning over me and looking down at me. I can't pin point why the way he said my name really clued me in. I can’t describe it. It had a softness to it that Jason even as rough as he could be sometimes always said my name with.

“Well, I’ve never really been the careful type. You remember that, don’t you?” I said, looking up at his helmet. I could see his whole body tense a little. A long moment of silence stretched on. He knew what I was implying.

I know who you are.

“You’re right, you weren’t ever the careful type.” Jason said, his body language tense. Like a spring about to snap. A small smile crossed my face, tilting my head to the side. A few feelings rushed through me. How the hell did Jason become- this? I mean- the whole get up is kinda hot. Woah woah. Let’s not go that direction.

Didn’t know masks did something for me. Let’s not unpack that.

“Jason.” I said, voice slightly hushed while he set me back in the cot. Winced slightly at my leg. He leaned back, not moving away from the cot and just standing over me. “It’s been a long time.”

“It has been. Not how I thought this would go.” He said, taking a little step back after a moment. Jason tilted his head to the side a little, he still seemed tense.

“You thought about this?” I asked, a little smile crossing my face. Jason huffed indignantly, crossing his arms over his chest. I could exactly what expression he was making in that moment, the memory of a slightly more baby faced Jason making that exact sound.

“Don’t get all cheeky with me.” Jason scoffed, but he had zero heat behind it. “Even now you’re a trouble maker.”

I huffed, reaching over pet the dog beside me. “That guy attacked me first, I was happy to just walk away.”

He huffed behind that helmet, body language tightening. He turned his face away while he foot tapped the ground in irritation, “You know better to creep around warehouses like that.”

He was right, I sighed while rolling my shoulder uncomfortably. “I know, I was just worried about the dog.”

“You should worry about yourself more.” Jason said. I shrugged while rubbing my arm and scratching at my jaw. I flicked my eyes down to the dog who was now resting his muzzle on my thigh, I looked over the bandages around his back leg.

“Says the man who bandaged up the dog.” I raised a brow at him.

“You’d have been angry if I let the dog run away before anyone could help him.” He huffed, irritation in his voice but it didn't have much real anger behind it.

I let out a very light amused chuckle, looking up at the helment and trying to imagine what his face could look like now. “What happened?” I asked before I could stop myself, wincing at little at my own words. Jason turned his head back to me, even with the helmet I could feel the weight of his gaze on me.

“Nothing you should be involved with.” He said, that lightness in his voice replaced by some coldness that wounded my heart. I frowned, a look I knew made me look all sad and pathetic. But I knew it would always work on Jason.

“Don’t give me that look.” He said after a moment, I let out a indugnet sound while flicking my eyes away. Jason let out a little sigh before he started to talk again, “Rest your leg, I’ll take you home later?”

I looked up at him as he started to turn on his heal to walk away, I blinked a few times before I hoped my mouth to speak but the words died in my throat. It had been so long since we saw each other, god knows has driven Jason to that point. Nothing good. I watched him leave the little room I was in.

I sighed while sitting in the quiet for a few moments, the dog whined a little to get my attention. Looking down at the scruffy dog, I smiled weakly. “Yeah. He’s always been like that.”

I laid back on the cot. God my body fucking hurt.

#jason todd fic #jason todd x reader #jason todd #red hood x reader #jason todd x you #arkham knight #arkham knight jason todd #arkham knight jason todd x reader #dc fic #fic: swing first

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