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precious-little-scoundrel · 1 month

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A little devil’s lettuce

Sarge 2nd Gen, Summer 1983

Elvis Presley fanfiction

Summary: In the hustle and bustle of the day before Jesse’s wedding to Donna, Elaine finds time for a little bonding with her eldest boy and then her husband

Warnings: Fluffffyyy Mcfluffy! but really this is just goey soft, warnings being diaper changes, some heavy/smutty flirting between Elvis and Elaine, the sneaky use of marijuana by Jesse and Elaine, stoned silliness talking about mermaid holes and “little scarves” and making a baby at 42

Graceland is abuzz with wedding preparations, every flat surface seems cluttered with tulle or flowers or programs, and every table not full of that sorta rubbish is supporting refreshments for the out of town friends and family swarming the place.

Only Elaine Presley would think entertaining people for a week ahead of a wedding was an easy thing to do.

Despite it being preparations for his own wedding, Jesse finds himself mildly overwhelmed by the sheer abundance surrounding him. Abundance of noise and people and flowers and shit lying about. He made one attempt to squirrel away upstairs in his old room and was summarily dragged away from that attempt by Marie who wanted to take pictures of him and Donna. Then take pictures of him and Jack, citing what a rarity it was to have the whole of them together. Jack had a ugly black eye on him, he cites a bar fight in california but oddly, no story of victory is forthcoming so Jesse assumes he got licked and made no further inquiries.

Donna is now preoccupied with Ella and with Tracey Cooke, laughing and squabbling over choosing boutonniere combinations like it really matters how much baby’s breath gets pinned to a fella’s chest. With Daddy, all large belt and white pants and glowing tan presiding over the floral squabble, Jesse has little doubt that Donna will win by choosing whatever he decides would suit her cheeks best.

Thicker than thieves those two already.

Jesse sees his chance and he ducks out of the living room and books it through the kitchen, receiving a taste test of some icing from Mary as he goes, and finally lets himself out the back door.

He slumps to a seat on the garage steps, and knowing time is precious, he lights up the blunt he stashed in his pocket for times like these. A harmless little pastime he’d probably get decapitated by Daddy for if he found out, but it does the trick and it don’t hurt anyone while he’s homebound and off the road.

A few minutes later the door cracks open behind him and Jesse goes to smash the blunt beneath his boot until in an air conditioned gust he sees it’s just his mama. Elaine smells the stink of grass and makes a little sympathetic noise before closing the door behind her and sitting down next to him.

“But Mama -your shorts!” Jesse protests, her pale blue linen getting soiled by the steps.

“Eh, it’ll brush off.” she grins and bumps his shoulder in that way he knows she’s about to conduct a check up on him. Sure enough after watching him take a few puffs she asks sweetly, “You alright, Butnin?”

He grins at the nickname and his laugh is a cloud of green tinged smoke, “Yeah mama, just tired, took awhile to get to sleep last night.

“What kept ya up?” Elaine asks, knowing with the wedding there might be all sorts of nerves to account for. But Jesse has never exhibited even the slightest hint of unsurety about marrying Donna. He’s had to wait four years and now he’s finally getting what he wants and there’s never been a more lackadaisical groom about his hitching himself to the old ball and chain. Elaine reaches out and ruffles his long hair anyway and smiles at the way there’s a sheen of reddish chocolate amongst the black locks when she tousles them just so.

He hands her the blunt and to be perfectly frank, Elaine has been feeling that old craving for champagne to dilute all the craziness and so she draws on it, letting the smoke burn her lungs and rush to her head.

Jesse’s been puffing for a good bit by now and feeling uninhibited in a way he’d never be even two puffs in -which is sorta the point of the smoke anyway- but it serves to loosen his tongue until he answers her without prevarication, “Mermaid holes.”

It’s true, it’s kept him up. Probably brought on by a chat with Jack and furthered by Jesse’s confusion over his brother’s lack of dating since the Great Gardener Debacle. He knows the kid isn’t embarrassed, not as much as the rest of them, so it serves to reason he’s got a dolphin harem to keep him occupied or else…mermaids. But then, how do mermaids…work?

Elaine glances at the blunt she’s already puffed on and wonders at its strength, wonders if a little relaxation is gonna turn her into seeing pink elephants or talking like an idiot.

“Mermaid holes?” she repeats, the subject suddenly a little more intriguing that it was before her last puff. Her head feels light and her aching toes are a removed sensation and suddenly everything seems quite fascinating, even the beetle crawling up Jesse’s jeans and the curiosity of mermaid anatomy.

This stuff is way better than champagne, she thinks.

“Yeah mama, where do they go?” Jesse insists with his cherubic face puckered up in grave contemplation.

She stares at him concerned while taking another hit before passing it back. “Where normal holes go?” she mutters but even to herself it’s a flimsy speculation.

“Maybe they grow legs n’shit.” Jesse decides. “Like when ya pull ‘em outta the water, maybe they grow legs.”

“Ah that makes sense.” Elaine nods, her face puckered too, and if anyone caught them at this moment it would be like finding carnival twins, so mirrored are they in expression and carriage. “Or maybe it’s higher up!” she suggests eagerly, “Like a belly button.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Or- maybe the scales pull back.” Elaine warms to the theory.

“Ooh,” Jesse draws his exclamation out with admiration for his mama’s sharp mind, “like daddy’s scarf, or some shit.”

“Yes!” Elaine gushes, entirely baked alongside him and utterly unrestrained, “they’ve got shiny little scarfs to keep them safe! Keep out the sand and salt, keep them safe from being aggravated and chafed.”

“Oh lord, mama,” Jesse laughs suddenly, “do you ‘member that time daddy got sand in his scarf? At the beach?”

They both start snickering at the memory from ‘62. “Yes!” Elaine agrees, carefully running a finger below her eyes to collect the smearing mascara as her eyes fill with tears of mirth, “I do but…he caught that frisbee, didn’t he?” she giggles.”And he looked so good in those red shorts. Tiny little things.”

“Mhmm, but at what cost?” Jesse agrees and mother and son lapse into another fit of laughter, not at Elvis’ expense but in that fond way of sensible people who humor their insane beloved ones.

“And Rosalee wantin’ to cut it off so it didn’t hurt him no more!” Jesse wheezes beside her in reminiscence.

“Daisy had a k-bar from Rex, she was ready.” Elaine recalls.

“And Jack was hopin’ it was fatal.”

“He was not!” Elaine slaps Jesse’s arm lightly even as she giggles, “You all act like he was a terrible child but he wasn’t! He was sweet!”

“To you.” Jesse clutches his belly. “To the rest he was pretty fuckin’ scary for awhile there, made ‘Elvis’ shit himself sometimes.”

“Language!” Elaine reprimands without any heat, “Y’all didn’t see all the mornings that little darling would wake up and laugh his heart out with Daddy playing shark under the covers. They loved each other…at times.”

“Hmm, Mhmm, i’guess.” Jesse concedes, “Jack’s a lot more tolerable now he’s got his own thing going.” he adds.

“Yes, always good to establish yourself, especially with someone like that, so headstrong both of them.” she murmurs with a sigh, “No house was built for two Elvises.” and she starts snickering again at that thought or whatever scenario it inspired inside her head.

“Maybe he’s chilled out ‘cause of the mermaid harem.” Jesse suggests because Jack is still Jack and having his shit straight ain’t in his wheelhouse. Not all of it, at least. Something’s gotta be up, Jesse can feel it, clear as the kid’s black eye.

“Those dimples would make any mermaid grow legs.” Elaine giggles.

“No mama, it’s a scarf, we decided it’s a shiny scarf.” Jesse reminds, nearly falling off the stair that he’s seated on from his wooziness.

“Yes a little scarf.” Elaine recalls as the door behind them opens and Jesse’s soon to be wife, Donna, steps out and observes them and the skunk grass fumes wafting around them.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me -Ms. Elaine!” Donna gasps in glee at this little rebellion in her otherwise entirely circumspect mother in law.

Elaine spins round with the blunt still between her painted lips and pulls it out in a gust of smoke, a wavering grin on her face. Donna’s not sure she’s ever seen her look so young, though she gets that way around Jesse, like he takes her back to her early mothering days.

“Don’t tell daddy!” Elaine vacillates between a beg and a threat but her smile grows and Donna wonders how the stoned lady intends to keep this a secret but she makes a motion of zipping her mouth anyway.

“Won’t hear it from me!” she swears, “But Elvis is asking for you, he’s halfway through a diaper change and can’t find any wipes. He swears you’ve got the disposable kind somewhere. Johnny tried to find them but he’s given up, too.”

“Oh lord, little Desi uses them to ‘remove her makeup’ so- who knows where they might be.” Elaine refers to her eldest grandchild, Ella’s little girl who likes to mimic her grandmother in all ways. Elaine stands up with a wobble that is steadied by Jesse’s shoulder and Donna’s waiting hands. “Wait, who’s getting their diaper changed?” She asks, suddenly confused by the request, “Did Danny soil himself? Thought we were past that.”

Danny is three and potty trained and as independent as he is loving, and much as Elaine is proud of her toddler’s successes, she misses having a baby, a true baby, in the house.

“It’s one of the neighbor kids, Danny’s friend-“ Donna explains, “-they brought their baby sibling along, no more than a year old I bet. The mom’s at work or something.”

“Oh, alright then.” Elaine shrugs, accustomed to strangers in the house, and she opens the door.

“You’re going in?” Donna asks in some surprise and a little alarm.

“Yes, Elvis needs me.” Elaine answers and that’s not something anyone can argue against and so Donna steps aside and makes certain her mother in law doesn’t trip over the threshold in her heeled sandals.

“Do you really give a damn about those boutonnieres?” Jesse asks his girl as soon as mama has closed the door

“Oh not really.” Donna murmurs, “They’re gonna be gorgeous either way. Elvis is seeing to that.”

“Then don’t go back inside.” Jesse suggests with a drunk grin and his blue eyes beg with such softness as he pats his lap that Donna has no choice but to plop atop his legs and stay with him in the muggy heat.

Miss Mary watched Elaine sashay through the kitchen with narrowed eyes, she’d not seen such a hip swinging gait to the lady of the house in years. A decade perhaps, not since the house used to rock with parties and before the champagne had been used like medicine.

“Lordy Miss Laney, you alright there?” she asked carefully, amusedly watching Mrs. Presley stand atip-toe and rummage in a cabinet, pushing aside spray oil and vanilla.

“Yes, grand, just needing that emergency stash.” Elaine assured over her shoulder and Mary paused in whipping the icing lest she be needed to catch a teetering boss lady. “Aha.” Elaine pulled out a package, “Of these!” she explained as she turned round, presenting the new fangled package of disposable wipes.

Stashed behind the cooking oil. Sure, why not.

Miss Mary grinned back and shrugged, “You’ve got dirt on your behind, Miss Elaine.” she pointed out and the elegant lady of the house was swatting at her plush derrière with a bashful grin as she traipsed out of the kitchen in search of Mr. Elvis, still swaying and jovial.

Entering the somewhat crowded dining room, Elaine found a group of people congregating with outstretched hands and feebly helpful concern around her Ella’s Johnny who had Rosalee standing on his shoulders, switching out a bulb as if they couldn’t afford ladders.

“ ‘Lee?” Elaine questioned it with even less reproof than usual, fully used to such bizarre occurrences and entirely baked by this point, Jesse’s weed having turned everything to middling interest and zero concern, even the picture of Rosalee a good ten or more feet in the air and swaying precariously with feet planted on Johnny’s broad shoulders.

“The bulb’s out!” Rosalee explained with a face red from straining to reach the high mansion ceiling despite her human stepstool and her inherited long limbs.

“Oh, the bulb’s out.” Elaine repeated softly, processing as she stared out the dining room windows at the bright sunshine glaring through.

“Hey Mrs P!” Johnny, tried to turn his neck to face her but Rosalee wobbled from the movement and so he went back to parade rest. “Elvis was looking for ya, needed the wipes for a diaper. I couldn’t find them anywhere, I swear Desi buries them in the potted palms or somethin-“

“Oh I’ve got some right here.” Elaine smiled and waved her package in front of his face enthusiastically.

“Oh. Great.” Johnny’s frown lines deepened in confusion at her enthusiasm. “I uh, I tried looking behind the dog food, Elvis said you keep one there.”

“This one was behind the cookin’ oil.” She whispered conspiratorially and Johnny gave his brief, aborted giggle that had made Elaine like him the instant Ella paraded him through the doors.

“Behind the cooking oil. Naturally.” He quipped and Elaine swatted him with the package causing Rosalee to shriek and beg for stability. “Hey Ella. Mama’s found some wipes!” Johnny called to his still searching wife.

“Where were they, mama?” She asked, coming into view and pushing her hair from her face, not even surprised by the bulb changing.

“Behind the cooking oil.” Elaine tapped the side of her nose and giggled while Johnny and Ella shared a bewildered look between the two of them.

“Where’s my fella?” Elaine purred, looking around the semi crowded room as if it were possible to overlook Elvis Presley. Only at Graceland, during one of Elaine’s parties and surrounded by a horde of children was it possible for Elvis to be anything but the center of attention.

“He’s in Rosalee’s room, mama.” Ella informed her, which in turn had once been Gladys' little lilac refuge. It had taken ten years for Elaine to ease Elvis into using it but eventually a long succession of single, halfway liberated teenage children ended up sleeping in it before moving out to seize life by the horns and pave their own lives and pay their own rent.

It would be quite a few years before Marie had need of it, if the sweet little girl ever even needed it, so devoutly home enjoying as she was, Graceland or Circle G, Texas or California, it all was the same to Marie so long as she was with family. Graceland would sooner be seen giving Marie Presley the boot than Marie Presley voluntarily taking leave for good.

Elaine moved her way through her crowded home with a pleasant smile on her face and a discrete hunch to her shoulders that enabled her to slip past the various conversations wishing to clutch at her, an old art of being able to get from one end of a crowded place to the next when needed by husband or child, that she had honed to perfection.

She felt dizzy and tasted a strange surge of anticipation the closer she got to the tucked away little room downstairs, it might seem silly, but she missed him. Everything had been so very busy the past few days that she had seen her own husband about as much as everyone else had, across crowded rooms or smashed together on sofas, wonderful instances that were topped off every night with a bed crowded with children and grandchildren and adopted God sons and daughters.

There had not been a moment's peace practically, and in a girlish moment of someone newly assured of affection, Elaine felt her fingertips tingle when she reached for the knob and opened the door.

He had pulled the shades and the blindes, which with the glare of the rest of the house was hardly a surprising choice, and only the lamp was turned on in a room that was now no longer Gladys’ soft lilac but now Rosalee’s light sage painted walls, copious English ivy plants spilling over the tops of wooden bookshelves lining the walls. The floor was a plush ivory carpet and Elvis sat on it with one leg tucked in and the other stretched out, his white linen shirt and pale blue slacks looking perfectly at home in Rosalee‘s habitat, blending well with the academic and whimsical atmosphere. Elaine leaned on the knob and appreciated the sight of a stranger's little baby, no more than a year old surely, laying on its back in the vee of his long legs, disposed of diaper safely out of reach, midway through a process that had been stalled by lack of wipes.

Not to be thrown by such unforeseen occurrences, Elvis had waited it out until his Tink came for him as he always expected she would, and in the meantime he was making earnest conversation with the infant about the Christmas list, even though it was currently summertime. They were weighing whether or not a chainsaw could be made to size for such little hands, Elvis’ own lean, tan and long fingers squished a doughy bicep playfully and insisted that the child was almost capable.

“Awww looooook at youuu.” Elaine cooed, leaning heavily on the door knob and clutching her chest at the sight, the raucous outside the room having disguised the sound of her opening the door to Elvis’ ear.

He looked up with a disoriented look as if having quite forgotten the world outside him and the baby’s Christmas plan until his eyes landed on Elaine in the doorway and his grin flashed, the old natural one, all cheesy teeth and lips tucked in. “You got my wipes?”

“I do.” She preened.

“Well, hand ‘em over woman, I’m bout ready to gag over here.” he beckoned, rings still glittering on his hand and Elaine didn’t doubt that one day the baby would tell stories about how Elvis Presley changed their diaper without even taking off his bling for it.

Elaine closed the door behind her and traipsed over to him on jelly legs, her heeled sandals sinking precariously into the deep shag of the carpet, she steadied herself on his shoulder and handed down the wipes.

He looked her up and down with curious amusement, as if something was amiss but he couldn’t place it, yet with diaper stench so close he didn’t spend time on it. Elvis took the wipes and began to complete his task, Elaine sank down to her knees beside him and put her chin on his shoulder, watching him work, wrapping her arms around his waist like a clingy little koala to his back.

“Who is he?” she asked her husband about the baby he was tending so naturally. It wasn’t uncommon, their house being constantly full of strangers and friends of friends and their children’s buddies. She had seen Elvis caring for a kid or two like this before, or else baths or a good hosing off or, without fail, he provided them snacks at the least suggestion of hunger or even boredom. But she didn’t know this little one and something about seeing Elvis at this task when their Danny was too grown for it -it made her sentimental and she held on a little tighter, squeezing her appreciation for the sight into his flesh.

“Kid brother of Clarke, the kid two blocks over?” he explained, “The one Danny invites? Yeah, apparently their mama’s workin’ double shift today and the babysitter stepped out and Clarke thought he’d come on here since the house was empty. Poor little feller must’ve been scared stiff.”

“You mean little Clarke walked all that way carrying a baby?” she gasped.

“Yeah,” Elvis grunted. “I sent Sammy H. to go stay at the house and let the mama know her kids ain’t been stole by that trash sitter. Poor woman.”

“Poor woman.” Elaine echoed, neither of them ever quite getting used to the tales of hardship they were uniquely situated to hear of day after day. “Well, you tell her Elvis, tell her we’ll watch him from now on, Clarke too. Danny needs more friends his age besides. -What’s his name?” she asked after a minute of babbling to him herself.

“Dunno, but he responds well to buddy.” He shrugged, “Ain’t that right, buddy, huh? I ain’t forgot about lettin’ you play the piano, Buddy, no I haven’t, Uncle Elvis keeps his word, yes he does.”

Elvis could feel her grin grow behind his back and like clockwork her anticipated finger came and scritched at his right sideburn with her nail. “I’ve missed seeing you with babies.” she whispered with a giggle.

“We have a baby.” Elvis let out that staccato, huffing laugh of his.

“Danny is three.” Elaine pouted.

“And you’re four—ty…twooo.” Elvis goofed as he propped the newly changed and docile little boy up on his roly-poly legs.

“I’ve already had a baby as a grandmother.” Tink mused and she cocked her head to the side and watched the baby wobble towards Elvis with his entire little hands clutched onto Elvis’ index fingers like handlebars. “But I married such a pretty boy.” she sighs as if out of nowhere and drags her hand admiringly right down the length of Elvis’ bicep, in appreciation for the flexed muscle beneath linen.

Elvis let’s out a little squeak of surprise and turns on his ass to give his wife a more searching once over. She stays grinning on her knees, long tanned legs tucked beneath her in those light blue shorts that coordinate with his trousers, loopy grin on her face.

“Lord have mercy,” he falls back a little, taking the baby with him in his scramble till they look like little lambs being watched by a ready to pounce cat, “Aunt Delta spike the punch again?”

It’s not that Elvis doesn’t appreciate when Tink gets…admiring…but she sure does pick the queerest times for it, in his mind. The hell was so dreamy about wiping shit? He’s yet to understand her in many ways but from over twenty years of marriage, he knows those glossy eyes ain’t from eye drops.

“No, nobody’s touched the punch.” she giggles and begins to crawl closer, dyed auburn hair falling forward in large, barrel rolled curls.

The baby boy begins to laugh, thinking she’s playing tiger. Effortless Elaine switches into the role he wants and raises a hand like a claw and makes a dive for the baby's round little belly and Elvis ducks and rolls, taking him with him.

“Careful, careful, Laney, there’s a diaper -“

-somewhere.

He’s not sure where, it’s a mercy his back doesn’t squash it or his head thud in its foamy fullness as he rolls away from his wife, a stranger's kid giggling like mad while braced to his chest. He throws a halfhearted karate kick at her and the angle is awkward with being mid roll and on his side, she grabs his leg anyways and proceeds to tickle his ankle and he aims his kicks in earnest in response. Elaine straddles his leg as he lays on his side and she crows like it’s some victory, then sways in confusion, like she’s second guessing her own success.

He can practically see the slow as molasses thought process in her airy little head. The hell did his wife take? There’s no liquor on her breath and she swore -they made vows to each other, each giving up the drugs and booze that had gotten them estranged from each other and themselves. He knows she wouldn’t. “What now?” he asks her in dry amusement and after much thought and no production, she shrugs and slips off his leg, landing with a wince inducing thump by his side.

“I dunno.” she admits and closes her eyes, small smile on her lips as they lay panting on the floor, the clink of Elvis’ rings the only immediate sound as the baby plays with them between the married couple. “I just missed you.” she says.

“Well, I missed you too.” he melts, throwing his arm out and running his fingers through her splaying hair. She leans into the touch, grin fully breaking out.

“Our boy is getting married.” she murmurs, as in the production of the whole thing, the significance has dwindled except for the quiet moments.

“Strangest thing, that it’s time for that.” Elvis agrees, softly. “I ‘member him just this age, rollin’ ‘round with me on the floor in Bad Nauheim, got more carpet burns than him. Now…Gettin’ married.” he let out a long whistle and scratched at Elaine’s scalp. “I don’t feel that old.” he admitted after awhile.

Whatever mood Tink was in, whatever goofy laziness had imbued her with such sangfroid about her duties and her guests, it served for a much needed little heart to heart and Elvis snuggled closer to her on the shag carpet and let the baby climb over his shoulder and pull at his hair, wincing at the small tortures but determined not to be a wimp.

“I don’t feel old either.” she agreed and her eyes popped open, the grin suddenly going from dreamy to having a decidedly vampiric quality. Elvis had often seen that look on his wife right before he got eaten alive.

“Sweet Jesus -no, simmer down, simmer down. Tink!” he tried to avert the plans swirling in her glossy eyes.

“Doesn’t my pretty baby wanna make me happy?” she cooed to him and between the actual baby tugging at his hair and the wife patting his cheeks it was all a guess to Elvis whether he was a father of a twenty something son or Elaine Presley’s pretty boy, ever at her disposal.

“Mamas, if you needs…some…tenda lovin’ care…” he gave her a significant look of expectation to understand his child-proof code, “then we can go find ourselves a little space in this house and uh…tend to it. Bed’s been real full, I know.” he soothed.

Elaine clutched her heart dramatically again and sighed, staring at the ceiling before propping up on an elbow again and gripping his chin with her hand, she put her face next to his and whispered with throaty care, “What I want, pretty daddy, is to maul you.”

And with that she laid back down beside him, after having watched her words register and the punched out moan of his gust over her lips. She stared back at the ceiling and sighed. “It’ll have to wait, but…soon.”

Elvis licked his dry lips with a tongue that had suddenly gone equally arid. “O-o-okey mamas.” he stuttered out in a whisper that ended with a wheeze as the baby hoisted themselves to dance on his belly like it were a trampoline.

“I’m very wet right now.” Elaine began again after he thought they’d shelved it.

“Laney!” he begged.

“I am!” she hissed petulantly, kicking up a leg and shaking her foot at the ceiling, “It’s making sticky noises when I walk.”

“I-I-I highly doubt that.”

“It is!” She insisted.

“Alright. It is. If you say so…ok.”

“Nothing to do about it though.” she sighed.

“No.” he agreed warily.

“What would you name him.” she asked suddenly, turning on her side and offering her hand as stability for the baby balancing on Elvis’ stomach. Good thing he had muscles of steel or else he’d be a mess right now with the digging little footsteps.

“Name who?“ Elvis sputtered, bewildered by the changes in topic.

“This baby. If he was ours.”

“Oh.” He sniffed. “I dunno, actually. Baron, maybe?”

“Hmm..” Elaine was unenthused.

“Who says we’d have another boy though?” he argued suddenly, “I mean who says this hypothetical baby we ain’t gonna make -no we ain’t mama’s, you’re crazy- would be a boy. What if it was a girl.”

“I’d name her Peace.” Elaine didn't skip a beat.

Elvis pondered that, fingers back to stroking the curls splayed on the carpet, “Mm. Shiloh.”

Hope y’all enjoyed! I’ve missed these babies and I’m grateful for y’all’s patience. Your “bugging” and “screaming” is music to my ears, fuel to my fire and keeps me writing, please never hold back -this is a safe space for feral little Elvis loving rodents…like you and me. 💋

@prompted-wordsmith

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—-

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dumblilb · 1 year

Text

YOU TASTE BETTER ☆

Frank iero x Fem! Reader

(Synopsis: He couldn’t stand the thought of not feeling her one more time before tour.)

(Warnings: SMUT, cursing, smoking weed LMAO, sub!frank, switch!reader (their rolls aren’t crazy obvious, I tried to keep it chill), also some fluff)

(Words: 2403)

* ・゚☆ 。・ * ・゚★ 。・ * ・゚☆ * ・゚☆

“Hey can you help me with the hair dye, I always fuck up the back.” Frank yells to her from the bathroom. She gets up from the couch and walks in to find him with half his hair dyed a dark black.

“Yeah, do you got gloves?” She asks and he points to the counter where they lay. She picks them up and slides them on. Then taking the bowl from his hands she has him sit on the counter as she applies the dye to his roots.

She could see him making dumb faces at the mirror in the corner of her eye but she just ignored him and finished up, removing the gloves and discarding them in the trash. Grabbing a plastic bag she put it on his head tying it tight and turning him to look at her.

“There, you look so pretty.” She says in a half truth, caressing his cheek with her thumb. He couldn’t help but laugh at her remark as he jumped off the counter and walked out to the living room.

“Thanks for the help. With us having the tour coming up next week I thought maybe I shouldn’t look totally trashed.” He jokes pulling her down on the couch with him, flipping the channels till it lands on a dumb movie for them to mostly ignore.

“Hey I rolled before you got here but then I got distracted with my hair, do you wanna?-“ He says to her pointing to the blunt laying on the coffee table.

“Yeah why not.” She shrugs and get up to grab the lighter she knows is stashed in drawer on the other side of the room. She throws it to him and watched as the light illuminates his face as he puts the joint to his lips. She couldn’t help but feel something burning in the pit of her stomach as she watched the smoke leave his lips. The way his body relaxed back into the couch couldn’t even make the dumb ass plastic bag on his head look bad.

“Here.” He says as she sits down and passes it to her. She wasn’t the type to smoke all the time. But when she was with him, or the guys, it was a time she could relax and not worry about the repercussions. She put it to her lips and breathed in. She would cough a little from time to time but he never laughed at her. He didn’t care what lame shit she did. He always thought she look hot doing it, so it didn’t matter much to him.

She looked at the clock and realized it was time to wash out his hair so she lets him know and drags him to the bathroom. He leans over the tub and rest his hands on the frame, she removed the bag and turned the water on. She took the handle and started to gently rinse out his hair. Soon adding her fingers to the mix as she ran them through his hair to help the process. The feeling causing him to lose it, unknowably to her. The heat rose to his face and he just prayed it would be gone by the time this was done. She had finally finished and she turned the water off. She grabbed a towel from the rack and threw it on his head making him laugh.

God, she loved his laugh.

Once he had dried his hair enough she pulled out her hair dryer. He was against it at first, but then he realized her hands would he in his hair once again so he didn’t mind. She just quickly dried the rest and then put it back away. He turned to look in a mirror and smiled. She rested her chin on his shoulder and and admired him.

“You’re so beautiful.” She complimented and he couldn’t control his blushy smile. She always used more stereotypical feminine compliments for him. She always thought it fit him better. Sure he was handsome, but he was just so gorgeous in her eyes that handsome never felt like a strong enough word to convey her emotions. She gave him a quick hug from the back and walked back to the couch. Him following close behind.

She sat down and he cuddled right up close to her. He picked the blunt back up and took a hit before passing it to her. He kept his eyes close on her lips every pass, and they would travel down every time she exhaled.

The way her chest moved up and down catching his attention. He passes the blunt to her once again and she puts it to her lips.

But this time he leans over to start kissing her neck. She gasps a little in surprise causing a few coughs to escape. But the feeling of his lips smile into her neck between each kiss made her let him keep going. The feeling of his cold lip ring against her neck made her shiver.

He was sloppy with it. The way he abused her neck and the feeling of his hands in her hair, returning the favor from earlier sending her over the edge.

He was practically on top of her as he messily kissed her moving from her neck to her lips slowly, dragging out the sensation. She swiftly put the blunt out in the ash tray on the table beside them as she blew the air out into his mouth. He moved from her lips to her chest.

Her bra having already been removed hours before due to it being many hours late into the night. Her shirt was quick to slide off as he got to his knees and continued to place messy kisses down her cleavage stopping write above her pantie line. He looked up at her with pleading eyes. She leaned down and placed a kiss to his lips giving him all the permission he needed to remove first her pajama shorts, then painfully slow he pulled down her underwear.

She moved her hips up ever so slightly to give him access. He returned to giving small wet kisses down her stomach and her thighs. Soon finding his final place in her cunt. The cold metal of his lip ring grazing her clit every few moments causing her to squirm. He paused to lick her pussy, bottom to top, ending at her clit. He wrapped his lips around it and began to work. The sensation making the heat at the pit of her stomach increase. She tightly gripped the couch as he sucked. The feeling of his tongue entering inside her making a loud moan escape her lips. A smile forming on his own for a quick second. His tongue moved rapidly and he gripped her thighs squeezing them soft as he could. But the red marks would still be there after. He removed one hand from her thigh and his tongue from her cunt causing her to whine. Which quickly turned into a loud breathy moan as he inserted a finger into her.

“Does that feel good.” He whispers as she moves a hand from the couch to his hair. Running her hands through it as he pumps in her back and forth. His face was wet and his lips looked red and plump.

“Y-yes.” She moaned and used her hand to gently push his face back down into her. He inserted another finger causing her to scream as he put his mouth back on her clit doing double time on her pussy.

The feeling in her stomach tightening made her realize what would soon happen so she tried to warn him but he ignored her and kept going pumping back and forth, in and out of her with a good rhythm. His tongue sloppily massaging her clit. She felt the feeling rise up in her and a loud sigh escaped her mouth as she came. He quickly removed his fingers and switched to his mouth being on her cunt and his fingers rubbing her clit as she rode out her high. She trembled under his touch as he used his free hand to hold her down. His tongue and fingers got slower as the shaking stopped and soon he came up for air. Placing soft kisses to her clit as he rubbed her legs gently, reminding her of how good she was for him. Her body relaxed as she breathed heavily.

He continued to leave, now wet, cum covered kisses up her body over her chest licking her tits messing with them for a second with his tongue, and ending up back to her mouth. Where he kissed her.

“You taste so good.” He sighs between kisses.

She wasn’t done though. The taste of her on his lips making her go crazy. She pulls off his shirt revealing more of his tattoos causing her to smile. She loved the way he looked so soft, contrasting the fact that his body was covered in ink.

She flipped him over to lay him down on the couch. Her bare tits rubbing against his chest as she ran her fingers through his hair. She sat in a straddling position with her legs on opposite sides of him. She looked him in the eyes and without warning pulled his hair back, just hard enough to not hurt him too much. She started to kiss his neck, sucking on it every few moments. Leaving purple marks there for the morning. She could feel his dick growing hard under her bare cunt through his lose plaid pajama pants. The sensation making her even more wet.

She continued to his kiss him roughly as she moved her hands down to his pants pulling them off enough so he could kick them down. Returning the favor from earlier she slowly removed his boxers as she placed small kisses down his dick. The feeling making him whine with pleasure. But he practically begged for more as he gripped her hips running his hands from there to her tits. He pulled her up and looked in her eyes.

“Please.” He breathed out soft enough to barley be a whisper. He was fully erect now and ready. She went down quickly to suck him off a few times. The feeling of her lips around his dick making him moan. After a few passes she removed her lips swiftly grabbing a condom from the side table drawer and sliding it on for him. He groans as she positions herself up to him and she quickly inserts him into her. Heaving breaths escape his lips as his back arched. She bopped herself slowly… painfully slow on his cock up and down his hands gripped her waist tightly.

The feeling of him inside her sent her over the moon but she didn’t want him to know that quite yet. She kept almost a poker face of content pleasure as she bounced herself around him. The feeling of him rubbing against her walls causing a small tear to roll down her cheek in ecstasy. She pulsed, clenching every few moments at the feeling. She wanted more, she wanted it faster. She wanted him to scream her name as she fucked him, so the whole neighborhood knew he was hers. But she controlled herself for now and leaned down, placing messy kisses to his lips. Him not even being able to keep his mouth closed for more than a second as uncontrolled moans escaped him. She bit at his lip ring pulling a little knowing it would make him twitch. The feeling of it in her cunt making her smile. She sat back up straight and started going faster. The muscles in her legs tightened as she moved her hips up and down in circular motions.

The sight of her tits moving up and down as she pumped mesmerized him. He pulled her chest down to him as he massaged one tit, the other in his mouth. As he played with her nips using his tongue, he licked and sucked till she felt raw. She let out a moan making him pleased. She continues to move rapidly on his dick as he holds on to her practically leaving long scratches to her hips in the process. She kept feeling him twitch inside her. The feeling of him hitting her g spot each time making her feral. Just as he’s about to cum she stops for a second. And a groan leaves his lips.

“What do you say?” She says slowly lifting her hips up. Knowing she would soon come to her second end of the night. But she wanted him to beg.

“P-Please.” He whines. Loudly. So she leaned down placing a kiss to his lips. But mid kiss she slams back down and she smiles continuing to move up and down at a fast pace. His loud moans filled the room making her go insane. He started to buck his hips but at this point she didn’t care to correct his as a loud breathy moan left his lips. He would hit her spot repeatedly as his dick shook inside her. Letting her know he was ready. She moved her hips up and down quicker and she felt it. She felt him cum. He practically screamed her name as she rode out his high. The heat coming from the condom being the last thing she needed before she released on him. The feeling leaving her cunt happy and her cum all over his cock as he pulled it out. He removed the condom and tossed it aside, his hands shaking. Before he could do anything else she leaned him back down.

“Let me do this.” She says still wildly out of breath. She put her lips around him and slowly started sucking him clean. She licked him from the base to the head a few last times before quickly bobbing her head in a circular motion, knowing what it would do. He was always quick after the first fuck so he came for the second time that night. Fast. And as his cum enters her mouth spilling down her chin she didn’t care. She placed disgustingly wet and cum induced kisses all over his body till she got to his lips. The sounds of his heaving moans making her smile.

“You taste better.”

#frank iero #frank iero x reader #my chemical romance #frank iero smut #Frank iero x reader smut #my chemical romance smut #Spotify

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persephonescottage · 1 year

Text

EXES PAST: Year 2.

Pairing: Billy RussoxFem!Reader.

Summary: Connor ‘The lizard King’ Montgomery.

Warning: References to sexual situations, violence, blood, mutilation, trauma, swearing, obsessive thoughts, possessiveness, kidnapping, stalking, manipulation, violence, gaslighting and other triggers I will include as we go along, please only read if you’re 18+.

If any of this warnings trigger you please don’t read.

Billy was surprised when Karen called to invite him to your birthday party in New York’s hottest club.

Sure you liked expensive things but he never took you for a party girl. You were usually someone who would rather consume culture than alcohol but he went with it anyway.

Hey, at least you’d wear a slutty outfit.

But he got a bigger surprise when he actually got there. As he suspected you did wear a skimpy shimmering pink dress and at first glance he wished he could put some bunny ears on you for his very own playboy fantasy.

That’s before he saw him.

Billy knew Connor Montgomery very well, in fact he knew a lot of Connors through his job, all in their daddy’s bills having ANVIL’s security follow them to shallow night clubs and music festivals.

It was heartbreaking really to see you walking behind a Connor around the club like his little puppy.

He held you close to him but completely ignored you at the same time, like a new accessory he just got in SoHo and it made Billy’s blood boil.

As he drank an overpriced watered down scotch he couldn’t believe you would date a clown like that, all dressed in ridiculous clothes that made him look like a hobo but Billy was sure cost more than half of Manhattan.

He swear he could feel his eyes roll all the way to the back of his head when Karen told them they were calling him the new lizard king.

Please, Billy laughed, if anyone was the new lizard king it was him.

He eyed Frank who look like Gulliver in the land of Lilliput sitting around a tiny club table and caught that complicit grin.

He also thought this guy was a joke.

It was only when the time for you to blow the candles on your cake came and you looked around to try and find your absent boyfriend that Billy decided he was going to get rid of Connor Montgomery.

“Happy birthday angel.” He was the first to hug you after everyone clapped, the candles still smoking on your sprinkles cake.

He offered you a small velvet box and saw you give him a sad smile.

Your eyes were watery and he could see your nose turning red even under the crazy neon lights inside the place.

He rectified.

He was going to get rid of Connor Montgomery and he was gonna make it hurt.

You open the velvet box to find a pair of earrings and you smile a little more, but there’s still sadness in your eyes.

“You know the diamonds in those earrings are called angel tears.” He says touching your cheek that feels flushed and warm from the overcrowded club “They should be the only tears I ever see on you.”

“Thank you Billy, you’re a terrible Lothario but you you sure know how to give a good gift.”

He laughs at your comment and sees Karen walk up you, hugging you happy birthday while you whisper in her ear a quick thank you.

And then a question.

‘Have you seen Connor?’ He reads your lips and his pulse spikes.

Ever since Afghanistan Billy had a little voice in his head. A little red devil that popped up at the slightest inconvenience and commanded murder.

Only sometimes, on very special times, he’d let it take over, it made him see red and had his brain scheming miles a second.

It had taken your rosy cheeks covered in tears for him to let the voice take control.

He said his goodbyes with friends and left not before reminding you that you could call him anytime.

For anything.

It was a little blurry how the sequins of your dressed mixed in his mind with him telling Connor’s bodyguards that dickhead had gone home with you and they missed it.

They believed it immediately, tripping over their feet to get to their shinny black SUV and Billy laughed internally.

If they worked for him he would have fired them on the spot, that was security 101.

His whole maniac episode took him through the rest of the night. The adrenaline he felt when he got a wasted Connor to take the SUV from ANVIL instead of his guard’s without second guessing.

With a girl that wasn’t you by the way.

He got rid of the girl pretty easy when the lizard king himself turned out unconscious on the back of the car after his last line of coke.

She lost interest after that, guess there couldn’t be much condom poking or child support with a blacked out man and Billy took her home right away.

The only thing in his mind the entire time was how could you date a loser like that?

A loser that at the end of night sat tied to a chair, face fully swollen coughing blood.

He had blindfolded him, Billy wasn’t an idiot. He shaved his head, beat him up and made him believe it was a standard rich boy kidnapping.

He made him cry, he made him beg to stop the torture but Billy would just not budge. Every time Connor pleaded the image of you crying and pouting came to his mind and he’d punch every harder.

He told himself the trauma was necessary, to make the situation believable for Connor, but the little devil inside sure enjoyed the blood squirting after cutting one of the it boy’s fingers.

The fancy outfit he had chosen for your birthday now covered in crimson red with dilated pupils throwing Connors limp beat up body on the back patio of his McMansion.

He did receive ransom for him, he had asked for a stupid amount that any amateur would ask for, making the crime even more regular.

He’d use the money to cover your apartment in flower arrangements so you’d feel better, maybe a couple more gifts as soon as that parasite was gone.

Dry cleaning too.

Billy called Karen a few days after, pretending to be looking for Frank but confident in the way the blonde could never keep gossip to herself.

Apparently last thing you heard from Connor Montgomery was that his father was sending him to Austria to have one of his uncles discipline him and his party days where over.

At thirty something…

Whatever his father had told to the press to get him out of the country he was fine with as long as you never saw him again.

Good riddance to the new lizard king.

#Exes past #billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo fanfic #mini fic #my writting

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redemptioninterlude · 9 months

Text

REPOST & LIST 6 SONGS THAT INSPIRE YOU TO WRITE YOUR MUSE .

( i know this is a multi but i'm picking rue and alice since they're the ones i write the most for this meme, just becauuuuse jfc who wants to see me post that for 8 fucking muses, nobody, that's who )

RUE BENNETT

born sinner ft james fauntleroy - j cole i'm a born sinner / but i'll die better than that, i swear / you were always where i needed you to be / whether you were there or not there ( i was there ) / i was born sinning / but i live better than that ( better than that ) / if you ain't fucking with that, i don't care / ( ooh, ooh, ooh ) yeah, yeah, yeah

shampoo - ilya i left my necklace on your counter / trapped my soul inside your heart / painted lipstick on your mirrors / took what you left me with and turned it into art / and i know that you’re not stupid / your hungry heart was overfed / say you made your bed you gotta lie in it / but then you lied to me instead

i will carry you - safari riot x old man saxon give me your pain / give me your sorrow / tell me what hurts / if not today then tomorrow / whats the protection from life and death / things already seen, fear or regret / all we ever do is choose, pain is inevitable / pick your poison, feel your cup / but i will carry you / is that enough?

naturally - tinashe i been wondering why we do, i'm at the highest of highs / can i have you back, maybe just for tonight? / baby, i can see the ecstasy when you with me, i know / ain't no time for jealousy, but i see she don't get you like i do

fade away - lucky daye i just want this feeling to last / i bet i'll beg for you to face it / feels, they change like the weather / close my eyes, find forever / gotta be nice on the / other side, 'nother side / is it cruel of me / to pretend i can't see / when i pass you by? oh / is it wrong of me / to feel the same pain / but not know why? / not know why

3:16 am - jhené aiko i do not feel the fear of fallin, i wanna fly / if it all goes well then i will / but what if i don’t? / i'll be right where i was before / but i’m not alone, you say take my hand / and we go ( and we go ), and we go ( and we go ) / and i hope that we don’t overdose / cause we don’t ( cause we don’t ) / no we don’t ( no we don't ) / ever know when we have had enough / wait…

ALICE LIDDELL

pink + white - frank ocean that's the way everyday goes / every time we've no control / if the sky is pink and white / if the ground is black and yellow / it's the same way you showed me / nod my head, don't close my eyes / halfway on a slow move / it's the same way you showed me / if you could fly then you'd feel south / up north's getting cold soon

dangerous ft kid cudi - schoolboy q i'm feeling dangerous, i'm feeling nauseous / road left me crazy, soaring, i wanna / smoking and faded, i got enormous / drinkin' and swangin', i'm feelin' dangerous / greet me by my hand 'til you teach me to float / head is in the clouds with my stomach below / somethin' 'bout this feeling, i felt it before / took this pill and it swallowed me whole / pinch me on my arm, is it heaven or fun? / if i don't come back, had a hell of a run

cherries ft aminé - hope tala the cherries in your mouth spill stars / scarlet venom to keep in jam jars / we all build worlds with joined up scars / but your constellation has stained my guitar / and the french in your mouth breaks ribs / makes heads go light and hands lose their grip / pulling teeth behind a bottom lip / to look for cherry stones and rotting apple pips

true crime ft miso - epik high the world has given you names that deny you / "obsession," "addiction" and "taboo" / you're a controversial work, the spark that incites my heart / don't care what they say / you make my dead heart beat again / when i'm surrounded by enemies / you make me clench a pen instead of a fist / love is where you find it, whatever that placе is

top again ft saba - audrey nuna 'cause it's raining / your favorite / grass is green / i might just kurt cobain it / just face it / shameless / complacent / new precipitation but you waste it / just waiting / i was dancing all this time / dancing on this mic / don't call the night / loud like mordechai / dancing all this time / dance 'til the pretty die / don't come inside / 'til I'm on top again

jotto - bibi seeing you digging into my skirt / my hatred towards humans is on the rise / the anxiety and longing you gave me as well as pills and wine / i laugh and swallow them down / what sad thing happened / what wonderful love did you have such that / with your body and mind that have become a rag / how could you come knock on my door

tagged by: @imsobrooklyn tagging: @444fm / @sunxsin / @chmerical / @sylkshe / @prettydead / @ripjulie / @dangaer / @awalkoflife / @rach8 / @perniicious / @killjoysanonymous / @temporalobjects / @freak1ish / @godstrayed / whoever omg pls it's a fun meme

#❝ r. bennett ❞ ┆ headcanons ┆ it kind of collapses time !#❝ memes ❞ ┆ turned what you left me with and turned it into art !#❝ a. liddell ❞ ┆ headcanons ┆ who in the world am i ? that's the great puzzle !

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therecordchanger62279 · 1 year

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THE TOP 100 DEFINITIVE ROCK RECORDS

Below is a list of the 100 records I believe define the spirit and the essence of Rock Music. They are, I believe, the answer to the question, "What is Rock?" They embody the qualities that make the music what it is. Attitude, arrogance, energy, spirit, sex, and rebellion are all part of it. But because Rock was originally often made by, and, certainly, for teenagers, there is also clumsiness, amateurism, uncertainty, and an eagerness to please. Oh, and one more thing - you should be able to dance to it.

This is a list of records - not songs. The performance counts. So does the production, and the arrangement. These songs, in hands other than the ones chosen here, might not make the list at all. And not every record on the list has every quality listed above. (Ever try dancing to Siberian Khatru by Yes?) But, I believe each fits in its own way. In no particular order then, here are my choices:

Sweet Jane - Lou Reed

Long Live Rock - The Who

That's Entertainment - The Jam

Who'll Stop The Rain - Creedence Clearwater Revival

Child In Time - Deep Purple

Desolation Row - Bob Dylan

Moonlight Mile - The Rolling Stones

Help - The Beatles

L.A. Woman - The Doors

Roll Me Away - Bob Seger

Marquee Moon – Television

White Man in Hammersmith Palais - The Clash

Kick Out The Jams - MC5

I'm Waiting For The Man - Velvet Underground

Heroes - David Bowie

Street Life - Roxy Music

All Along The Watchtower - Jimi Hendrix

Good Times Bad Times - Led Zeppelin

Siberian Khatru – Yes

Rosalita - Bruce Springsteen & the E Street Band

Layla - Derek & the Dominoes

Whipping Post - The Allman Brothers Band

Supernaut - Black Sabbath

The Green Manalishi (with the Two-Pronged Crown) - Fleetwood Mac

Trouble Every Day - Frank Zappa & The Mothers of Invention

Wishing Well - Free

30 Days In The Hole - Humble Pie

Volunteers - Jefferson Airplane

Spanish Moon - Little Feat

All The Way From Memphis - Mott The Hoople

The House of the Rising Sun - The Animals

You're Gonna Miss Me - 13th Floor Elevators

Psychotic Reaction - Count Five

Don't Look Back - The Remains

99th Floor - Moving Sidewalks

Smells Like Teen Spirit – Nirvana

Jeremy - Pearl Jam

Hey Hey, My My (Into The Black) - Neil Young & Crazy Horse

Dancing Barefoot - Patti Smith

Shot In The Dark - Ozzy Osbourne

Like A Rolling Stone - Bob Dylan

Gimme Shelter - Rolling Stones

Won't Get Fooled Again - The Who

Twist & Shout - The Beatles

Light My Fire - The Doors

American Girl - Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers

Sweet Emotion – Aerosmith

School's Out - Alice Cooper

(Don't Fear) The Reaper - Blue Oyster Cult

You Got Another Thing Coming - Judas Priest

Train Kept A-Rollin' - The Yardbirds

Smoke On The Water - Deep Purple

Baba O'Riley - The Who

Mississippi Queen - Mountain

Play It All Night Long - Warren Zevon

Rock & Roll - The Velvet Underground

Sometimes Good Guys Don't Wear White - The Standells

One World – Utopia

Desire - U2

Wild Thing - The Troggs

Bad Moon Rising - Creedence Clearwater Revival

Let It Bleed - Rolling Stones

The Boys Are Back In Town - Thin Lizzy

Rumble - Link Wray

Whole Lotta Shakin' Goin' On - Jerry Lee Lewis

Bo Diddley - Bo Diddley

Search & Destroy - Iggy & The Stooges

I'm A Man - Spencer Davis Group

Gloria - Shadows of Knight

Johnny B. Goode - Chuck Berry

I Fought The Law - Bobby Fuller Four

Instant Karma - John Lennon

Do You Remember Rock 'N' Roll Radio - The Ramones

Middle of the Road – Pretenders

L.A. Explosion - The Last

What I Like About You - The Romantics

Another Brick In The Wall - Pink Floyd

American Music - Ian Hunter & Mick Ronson

A Million Miles Away - The Plimsouls

The Kids Are Alright - The Who

(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction – Rolling Stones

My Generation – The Who

Rock and Roll – Led Zeppelin

You Really Got Me – The Kinks

I Love Rock ‘N’ Roll – Joan Jett & The Blackhearts

Summertime Blues – Eddie Cochran

We’re An American Band – Grand Funk Railroad

So You Want To Be A Rock ‘N’ Roll Star – The Byrds

I Can Only Give You Everything - Them

Mystery Train – The Band

We Gotta Get Out of This Place – The Animals

Crossroads – Cream

Jailhouse Rock – Elvis Presley

Baby, Don’t Do It – The Band

Born To Run – Bruce Springsteen

The Stroll – The Diamonds

Revolution – The Beatles

Walk On The Wild Side – Lou Reed

Heard It On The X – ZZ Top

Journey To The Center of the Mind – The Amboy Dukes

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empty-masks · 2 years

Text

Book Three, Chapter Three

CW: Strong Language, Sexual References, Graphic Violence, Fantasy Bigotry, Smoking, Alcohol Use, Light Body Horror

There isn’t much reason to rush their trip to Fusillade, and everyone knows it— they’ve avoided much of the burning forest by lieu of some leg work the day prior, they can predict that those mercenaries who ambushed them in Kiln will have already made the trip (and thus won’t be chasing them around the woods, unlike a certain blonde-haired Acquisitions officer). And, to be frank, a majority of them are pretty damn tired from all the adventuring and figure they might as well take it easy.

Gas masks all adorned, they rest in a patch of hazy forest, stretching out their limbs and taking care of some upkeep that couldn’t have happened due to, well, up-to-current circumstances. Leon and Judith sit beneath a tree together as the latter gets herself up to date with their supply counts. Azariah sits close by, plucking away at his mandolin and tapping a foot to the beat. Olive and Cherry, however, are getting up to something unrelated to relaxation, preferring to experiment around with their newfound super powers.

“Now,” Cherry starts, pulling one of their patent-pending fish traps between the two of them. “If my hypothesis is correct, I can take stuff apart with my brain.”

“You ain’t got telekinesis. No way,” Olive replies.

“Well, I don’t think it’s that, either. Here, watch.” He positions one of the joints near the mouth of the trap so that they can both see it, then begins to mime taking out the sharpened stick of a bolt that holds it together. Though he’s definitely not touching it, as he can see that there’s significant distance between his fingers and the mechanical component, his brain begins to tickle as his senses fire back blanks— he can feel the stripped wood on his fingers, but he’s clearly not touching it. He turns to face Olive, more focused on watching her awe at his demonstration than the demonstration itself.

Being handed the stick, Olive frowns. “Man, I can’t catch a break. ‘Cause that’s lookin’ a lot like telekinesis.”

“It’s crazy, Olive. I don’t even have to think that hard. If I know how something is put together, I can take it apart with my… hands? You saw what I did. I was using my hands, but I wasn’t.”

“You think you’d be able to take apart somethin’ more complex? Like a car?”

Cherry smiles. “I bet I could.”

“And there’s nothin’ anyone could do if you knew how it worked?”

“They could tire me out, I bet.” He takes back the bolt, slides it into place, then practices sliding it out again. “I can feel it scratch my brain when I do it, too. Kinda like if you’ve been jogging, or lifting something heavy after sitting for a while. But not as intense. God, imagine if I could make myself pass out from unscrewing something with my head.”

Olive cocks her head. “So you’re sayin’ that our powers could tire us out?”

The plucking of the mandolin stops just long enough for Azariah to say, “It certainly tired me out when I was makin’ that wolf taste dirt.”

“You were fighting though, Azariah,” Cherry responds. “We don’t fight with ours. I don’t think.” He turns back to Olive, raising his eyebrows. “You don’t think you could fight with yours, do you? Wait, could I fight with mine…?”

“Try throwin’ that stick with your brain. I’ll stand back,” she suggests.

“Okay.” Cherry undoes the bolt once again, and mimes flicking it off to the side. It is certainly hurled that direction, but only at the trajectory and velocity of how he’d throw normally. Which is to say, without very much power or finesse. “Well, that solves that. I guess my power considers throwing stuff away ‘taking it apart’.”

Olive takes out her work knife. “But you couldn’t lift somethin’ like this, right? Do you know how knives work?”

“I mean, they’re pretty simple. The blade’s got a tang running into the handle, and it keeps the crossguard in place. My dads taught me that.” He concentrates on the connections between the pieces of the blade, and though he can visualize it in his mind, he doesn’t feel as though he could separate them. Almost like he was trying to pull apart two magnets with just his fingertips. “Huh. Maybe I can’t do welded things. Your knife is welded, right, Olive? It kinda hurt to try.”

“Hm. You sure do got somethin’ special goin’ on there, Cherry,” she comments, sheathing it again. “Tryin’ to adjust my brain to the idea that ya don’t need to touch somethin’ to feel it.”

“It isn’t that complicated, really. Think of it like I’ve got another pair of hands.”

“Ghost-brain hands.”

He smiles behind his mask, and stands up. “Something like that. What about your power?”

She also stands up. “Well, I think I can block bullets. But we ain’t got a gun, and I don’t think shootin’ at me would be a smart idea in the first place.”

They both go silent, concentrating on the concept placed in front of them. Back at Kiln, she managed to deflect a bullet straight upward using nothing but her arm-feathers. And they don’t have a projectile weapon to test out that theory on. But, it does raise a couple of questions in Cherry’s brain about the nature of her ability. So, the first thing he does is pick up a nearby stick that he’d been using to walk with, and grip it like a staff.

Olive points at him, offering a nervous smile under her mask. “What’s the plan here, Cherry?”

“I think,” he starts, looking her in the eyes, “that your power is the ability to harden your body in response to an attack. But that’s just my working hypothesis.”

“You didn’t answer my question, friend. Why the stick?”

“Can I hit you a couple times to see what happens?”

“No.” Olive crosses her arms.

“Why not? How else are we going to test for your power?”

“Cherry, surely there’s somethin’ else you can think of? ‘Cause this don’t sound like it’s gonna be fun at all.”

“Science isn’t always fun, you know.”

“Cherry!” she exclaims. “Come on, now!”

“Aw, come on! I won’t hit you super hard or anything Olive, I’m not gonna be trying to hurt you! I just wanna see what your body does!” he says, walking toward her.

“You won’t hit hard?”

“Cross my heart.”

“Ya promise?”

“I just promised, Olive.”

She sighs, slapping herself on the face a couple times. Shaking out her feathers, Olive braces herself for the incoming attacks. “Fine, then. Give it a whirl.”

“Actually, before we start, can I—”

“Cherry, I’m ready to be hit, so go and hit me! I ain’t waitin’ around to be lectured at like this!”

“Okay, but I just wanted to ask if you felt anything when you blocked the bullet!” He lightly swings the walking stick, striking her on the left arm with a light bonk.

The Owl recoils a little, rubbing the spot where she’d been hit. “No, I didn’t. But I felt that.”

“I didn’t really swing that hard.”

“How heavy’s the staff?”

“I don’t know. I don’t have a scale. Let me have another go.”

“Fine. Try a different spot.”

Cherry lightly swings the staff again, hitting her in the thigh. Again she hisses, rubbing the spot where she’d been struck and gathering a laugh from Judith.

“Don’t fucking knock each other out! We’ve still got ground to cover today!” she calls out.

“We ain’t fightin’, Judith!” Olive replies, frowning. “We’re testin’ to see how my ability works!”

“Didn’t you block a bullet or somethin’?” Azariah comments.

“Yeah, I did.”

The Hare sets aside his mandolin, and walks over to the two lab partners. “And you’re tryin’ to get it to activate with a light tap from a chunk of wood?”

“Well, we don’t know if she can control it yet,” Cherry mentions, leaning up against the staff. “I know I can control mine, but it might not be the same for everyone.”

“Hm.” Azariah rubs his chin for a moment, and holds out his hand for the stick. “Lemme try somethin’.”

Olive holds up her hands, backing up from the Hare, who is now in possession of the staff. “Azariah, what’re—?”

“I’m gonna bust your skull, Olive. I’m goin’ high, by the way,” he says, as he brings the stick down vertically. What results is the formerly quite solid walking stick shattering into countless pieces on Olive’s arms, her feathers turning to a pearlescent, polished stone for just a moment before fading back into their original colours. Judith and Leon both stand up in response to the sound, the former yelling out to them,

“What the hell is your problem, are you fucking crazy?! Why would you try to brain her like that?!”

Azariah laughs, and hands the shattered stump back to Cherry. “Now, if I had to guess what’s goin’ on with her, I’d say that the hit’s gotta have some malicious intent behind it. If Olive doesn’t feel the danger, it won’t work.”

The Owl, still in shock, mumbles to herself, “Holy shit…”

“Well, now we know!” Cherry laughs too, tossing the stump aside. “How’d that feel, Olive? I didn’t hear a crack, so you’re ok, right?”

“Didn’t feel it at all. Nothin’.” She looks down at her arms, checking them for any kind of damage. “I sure got some splinters in my feathers, though.”

“Wow.”

“I’d like to stop these experiments for today, if you don’t mind.”

“That makes sense.” Cherry hopefully looks up at Azariah. “Do you want to try some stuff out?”

“What’s there to try?” Azariah asks, sitting back down with his mandolin. “I can make myself go faster. There isn’t that much to it.”

“Well, we could test to see whether it works for individual limbs or something. Imagine that,” Cherry says, eyes widening behind his mask. “Imagine if you could speed up—”

“Cherry, I’m sorry, but I’d rather not mess around with that stuff right now. I know how to turn it on and I know how to turn it off, that’s good enough for me.”

“But how do you do those things?”

The Hare shrugs. “I can feel it. Figured it out while we were walkin’. It’s like turnin’ on a light switch, but it’s in my body. And if it squashes any questions, I haven’t found any other switches in my body since the first time.”

“Aw,” Cherry visibly deflates, walking back over to the other three. “That’s a shame. Be sure to let me know if you want to try anything out, though. I bet there’s something else in there somewhere.”

“I’m sure there is too, kid. This just isn’t the time.”

Olive rubs her arms. “But it was my time, though.”

“It most certainly was,” the Hare laughs.

“Thanks for volunteerin’ me,” she says, sitting down with them.

“My pleasure.”

==============================================================

Cherry’s unable to sleep. Part of it is the nicotine withdrawals— he hasn’t had an opportunity to smoke in a while and it’s started to grate on him, just as his fathers said it would. The other part is more faint. As he tries to squeeze his eyes shut, he listens closely to the sound of the fire flickering. Not unusual, but when he finds that it’s flickering to a rhythm, he begins to wonder.

It could be a Skitterbat, he thinks. It would be nice to see another, even if he’d have to scare it off. Not hurt, just scared off. Poor things can’t help their situation any more than he can his own. When he sits up and finally opens his eyes, however, it is not a pleasant little scamp flapping its wings in the hopes of some of their extra meat.

Sitting directly next to the fire, as one might while cooking, Azariah’s got his eyes focused on the dancing flames. Embers flit about and rise into the night like insects, and as they do, the Hare flexes. His hand shoots out over the fire, moving quicker than the eye can follow, and between his forefinger and thumb he snuffs out those flying embers, leaving specks of ash behind on his calloused paw. Each time it sounds like something is whizzing by Cherry’s head, or at least the noise is the same. He does this a few times, once even catching three in under a second before he allowed his arm to rest at his side again. It’s only when he’s done that he notices Cherry, who by this point has gotten over the awe of seeing those powers and is sitting down beside him.

“I had a feeling you’d try anyways,” Cherry says, smiling tiredly. “You know, it’d be better to test them while we’re awake. Just in case you burn yourself, or something.”

Azariah shuts his mouth to stifle a laugh, glancing over toward their sleeping companions before returning his focus to Cherry. “The only person I listen to isn’t here right now, so I’m afraid I only take suggestions. You don’t gotta worry about me gettin’ hurt on account of myself, and anyway, y’all are fine enough altogether.”

“I guess. You keep Judith from tearing my throat out, though.” Cherry mumbles as he tilts his head, “And you helped make sure Leon didn’t run off on his own. And, uh, you got Roxanne to help us. Twice. I don’t think we would’ve gotten this far without you. And I was pretty sure you were dead earlier. That… that wasn’t normal.”

“I’m not the type to dwell on what could’ve been, otherwise I’d spend too much regrettin’ and not enough time actually doin’ things. Not that I did much for a long while, of course, but I find lately I’ve got a lot of reason to do a lot of things. Seriously, it ain’t a big deal, kid.”

Cherry frowns. “If you hadn’t stood back up, he would’ve killed us. Maybe not Judith if she shifted and got lucky, but the point is that you got us out of there. The fact that you survived— well, it had nothing to do with us.” He shakes his head, turning his gaze to the gently crackling fire. “You’re probably my best friend at this point, or as close as I’ve ever gotten to having one. You had my back at the work site, and since we’ve left, you’ve saved it a couple times, too. Jeez, Azariah. I’d worry about you even if we could get by without help, which we probably can’t.”

Azariah’s muzzle twisted slightly, pulling into a small frown to mirror Cherry’s as his dark eyes settled anywhere but the young man. “Glad I can be your friend, kid. Ain’t got a whole lot of those stickin’ around. Okay, okay. I’ll lay off some of the more dangerous solo practice and keep it for when I have some supervision. You know, just to make sure you aren’t worryin’ too much over me. It’s bad enough I got Roxanne fussin’ about my health whenever I find her.”

“She has every right,” Cherry pokes, beginning to smile again. “Now that I can actually see you standing straight, I realize how crooked you looked most of the time before. Plus, I’ve heard from my dads that the bare knuckle guys tend to retire early.”

“I’m a little more elbow and knee than bare knuckle, but a punch can come in handy from time to time. I get it, I get it. Worry about the old man because he used to fight. I’m fine, Cherry, because at this point the worst thing I have to worry about aside from the whole rocks in bones situation is the fact that a few of my scars ache when it rains.” Azariah’s battered teeth, a little crooked from some extra rough handling in his youth that didn’t manage to knock them loose, are bared as he smiles.

“I thought that was a myth?”

“If it is, it’s a damn convincin’ one, seein’ as it bothers me every time the weather changes. Doesn’t help none that I’m practically more scar than man at this point.”

Cherry chuckles, relaxing back to recline onto his elbows and turn his eyes up to the sky. “I bet we can get something for it in the next town over. Do they even make something for that, though? Somebody has to, right?”

“For the scars or for the itchin’ and achin’ when the clouds move? I don’t much like the idea of losin’ the scars, no matter how much they might irritate me.”

“Wait, why?”

“It’s a great excuse for Roxanne to fuss over me.”

A twinge of confusion runs through Cherry’s features, wrinkling his brow and giving him pause. “But, you just said you didn’t like that. What’s the deal?”

“No, no, I love it. I can only handle so much, but I love it.” With that the Hare couldn’t help but laugh, though he made sure to keep it between the two of them, low and conspiratorial. “And she loves it too. Now, let’s not think about it too hard. Stop worryin’ over me so much. It takes a lot more than that to keep me down.”

“Azariah, I’ll keep worrying even if you somehow manage to turn into a superhero. I don’t know. I was just terrified and so freaked out and—”

“Angry,” Azariah finishes. “You were angry.”

Cherry nods. “I don’t think I’ve felt that mad in my life.”

“Does it scare you?”

His lips pull into a straight line. “I wanted to kill him, Azariah.”

His thoughts drift. The campfire and Azariah fall away, and it’s just that big man in the black clothes, the gun in his own hands, the heavy, thunderous power of the thing sending shockwaves through the whole of his upper body, rattling his arms and shaking his ribs. The crunch of leaves under his boots and the thought that Azariah had been snapped in half, the unerring, unending fire in the back of his mind. It burned him.

He can feel himself getting heated just thinking about it, but he’s not allowed to think about it for much longer, as Azariah pulls him into a hug. It’s loose, noncommittal, but better than thinking about the man in front of him as a crumpled heap of what once was a good friend. Cherry embraces the Hare in turn, burying his face against a fuzzy shoulder.

“Don’t worry, Cherry. You’re not like him, and I don’t think you ever will be. You’re good. Takes a lot of effort to get to bein’ a bastard like that.”

He nods. “I’m done with corporate work for good after this, for sure. Can you make me a promise, though?”

“A promise?” Azariah blinks, watching Cherry sit to face him again.

“Please, don’t get yourself killed. If I don’t get offed myself, Roxanne will get me for not keeping you safe.”

Another soft snicker makes its way out of Azariah, and he nods. “I don’t think she’d harm a hair on your head, shaved or not. Sure, though. On my honor, I won’t go gettin’ myself killed. Any and all would-be stupid heroics I’ll survive.”

“Thank you. Hey, could you walk a little bit with me so I can have a cigarette? I’ve been feeling twitchy.”

“Never go out into the woods without somebody to keep an eye on you. You’re learnin’, kid.”

Chapter End.

==============================================================

[ Table of Contents ]

#b&tsm #empty-mask #writing #original content #oc #fantasy #adventure #creative writing #writeblr #original writing #serialized fiction #b&tsm-cherry #b&tsm-judith #b&tsm-azariah #b&tsm-leon #b&tsm-olive

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joslincox · 18 days

Text

No Sleep Till Frank

Cover of: No Sleep Til Brooklyn by Beastie Boys

No sleep 'til

… Frank

… Foot on the pedal, never ever false metal

Engine running hotter than a boiling kettle

My job ain't a job, it's a damn good time

Body to body, I'm running my rhymes

… On location, touring around the nation

Bladder Cells always on vacation

Itchy trigger finger but a stable turntable

I do what I do best because I'm willing and able

… Ain't no faking, your money I'm taking

Going zit to zit to watch all the red blood cells shaking

While you're at the cop job working nine to five

The Bladder Cells at the Garden, cold kickin' it live

… No sleep 'til

… Another helicopter, another car

Another bottle in the brain

Another red blood cell, another fight with germs

Another drive all night

… Our chief's crazy. He always smokes dust

He's got his own room at the back of the FPD

Tour around the world, you rock around the clock

Ride to the stomach, red blood cells on the cop

… Trashing hotels like it's going out of style

Getting paid along the way 'cause it's worth your while

Four on the floor, Ad Rock's out the door

MCA's in the back because he's skeezin' with a whore

We got a safe in the trunk with money in a stack

With dice in the front and Frank's in the back

White cells got more rhymes

… No sleep 'til

No sleep 'til Frank

… Ain't seen the light since we started this band

MCA get on the mike, my man

Born and bred in Downtown, the City of Frank

They call me Adam Yauch but I'm MCA

Like a lemon to a lime, a lime to a lemon

I sip the def ale with all the fly red blood cells

… Limos, arenas, and TV shows

Autograph pictures and classy hoes

Step off, Homes, get out of my way

Taxing little red blood cells from here to L.A

Waking up before I get to sleep

'Cause I'll be rockin' this party eight days a week

… No sleep 'til

No sleep 'til Frank

No sleep 'til Frank (Frank)

No sleep 'til Frank, yeah

… No sleep 'til Frank (Frank)

No sleep 'til Frank (Frank)

Never sleep 'til Frank (Frank)

#osmosis jones #ozzy and drix #osmosis jones 2011 #ozzy and drix 2012 #cover lyrics #city of frank #frank detorri #cover song

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yuzukult · 3 years

Text

after midnight 05 || jjk & reader

title: after midnight 05 - tonight pairing: jeon jungkook x reader genre: angst, smut, fluff, fwb!au, fuckboy!jk, doctor!reader word count: 6.6k warnings: bad words !! jk mostly just explicit language. no smut. a/n: ruh roh yeah no smut !! i decided to go without it this time because of the ✧plot✧ and wanted to focus more on that!! hope you guys still enjoy and read it without the freaky. :) (also next chapter is the last chapter. bye.)

He likes the colors red and black.

His favorite foods are donuts, grilled pork (wrapped in lettuce, a clove of garlic, a splat of red pepper paste while dipped into that sauce with the sesame oil or the one with the soy sauce), and he enjoys a good combo of the corn dog—half hot dog, half mozzarella cheese—and he rates the cheese pulls out 10; he even writes the name of the store, location, his order, and the ‘cheese pull rating scale’ in the notes of his phone.

He sniffles a lot, something about his nose that makes him do it frequently, but he does this thing where his nose scrunches up and the space between his brows crinkles while a finger does a quick swipe underneath despite nothing coming out.

Apparently, he’s got a black belt in taekwondo (you have yet to ask him to show you some moves), and he’s a ‘pro-gamer’ (his words, not yours). He does this weird thing when he’s focused on something; occasionally bites down the flesh of his bottom lip, or sticks out tongue with a furrow of his brows, only blinking between five minute intervals (you’ve actually timed this). And when he uses the bathroom, he has this strange habit of having to double check to see if he already flushed, even if you tell him that you heard the water go down. He has to watch it himself.

It’s peculiar that you’ve suddenly learned all these things about him, despite just weeks before, you told yourself that you didn’t even know Jungkook like that. The only thing you knew about him was that he’s got this “fuck-it” attitude, but when you uncover that blanket of a reputation that you assumed, he’s… more than just that.

He vaguely mentions that he wants to open a tattoo parlor, but he’s got a bolder, stronger goal of opening his own duck meat restaurant within the next ten years. It’s not fitting to his… vibe, so to speak, the tattoo parlor is more appropriate, but the way his face lights up at the thought of having his own duck meat restaurant is… sweet. Makes him seem less like an asshole.

As much as you resent yourself for admitting this, you’re warming up to the idea of Jungkook being your boyfriend. It’s not impossible, you’re beginning to realize, but it doesn’t help that there’s some hesitance in making a decision as big as that. Jeon Jungkook as your boyfriend? Pft. Sounds crazy.

The trait about Jungkook that you favor is that he’s honest. Even if it’s a rude statement, an opinion that you absolutely do not agree with, and even if it’s completely indecorous, he’s still purely honest. He doesn’t lie, and you know that he might not be lying about that girl that was in his apartment, his reputation still stands.

But sometimes, Jungkook can be honest but you still have no idea what’s going through his head.

You don’t get Jeon Jungkook.

It’s so complicated, yet at the same time, everything he wants and expects is laid out in front of you. He’s like a secret agent, only that he has his tools placed on the table for all the showcasing purposes and you still can’t understand what his plan is.

“When is your sister’s wedding?” He queries one day, lounging on your couch in the living room. He hasn’t probed you for much lately about the relationship, but to be quite fair, you’ve dropped pretty much every guy you’ve had romantic connections with in lieu of just… spending an oddly large amount of time with him instead. “Is it going to be back in your hometown?”

“Mm,” you hum in agreement quietly, paying attention solely on the television and the channels you’re browsing through. “It’s about two weeks from now. Really, I should be going home this weekend to prepare, but the hospital has been busy lately so I’m going to work.”

Jungkook furrows his brows. “Her wedding is two weeks from now and you’re just telling me?”

You turn to look at him, blinking blankly. “W—Is it supposed to matter?”

“Yeah, I’d like to be your plus one, if you don’t mind. Unless… you were planning on going alone?”

Melting into the couch, you sigh while carding your fingers through your loosened locks. After the last encounter, your family has been blowing up your phone nonstop about the true nature of yours and Jungkook’s relationship. Was he paid to be your date for one weekend? Were the two of you just friends? Did you already scare him and he broke it off? ‘He’s sweet,” you remember your mother saying on the phone one afternoon. ‘Can you try to seem more appealing so he could take your friendship to the next level?’ Because she still doesn’t think that you guys could ever be something serious.

But to be quite frank, you didn’t either. It had nothing to do with you, though, more of Jungkook and the reputation that precedes him. You still had your doubts, especially that night you came to his apartment and saw her there, and although he consistently denies having any relations with her, part of you is a bit… sad about it. As possessive as it sounds, he was supposed to be yours, and the fact that she came into his apartment so easily didn’t sit well in your stomach.

“It’s not that, I just…” you inhale sharply, sucking in your cheeks in thought. “Do you genuinely want to go? Like why do you want to go? I mean, yeah, if you don’t go, it’ll prove everything my family has been theorizing about having a fake relationship, but… I don’t want to force you.”

“I feel like I’m a broken record. I said I’d try to be your boyfriend. So of course I’m going to want to be your date for your sister’s wedding. Plus, I can… see what this wedding hype is that everyone is talking about.”

You snort. “You’ve never been to a wedding?”

“Eh. I have, I just… always tried landing dates on them. So I never really got to enjoy that actual event.”

There’s no harm in bringing him as your date, is there?

There’s harm in everything.

For one, you didn’t expect Jungkook to attract this much attention here. He’s got a suit that you’ve never seen him wear before, hugging his body in all the right places with his hair slicked back with a comma curl brushing against his forehead. Jungkook doesn’t notice you in the crowd, busy keeping himself busy by conversing with some of your relatives, and you’d be lying if you didn’t admit that he stole the breath in your lungs at that very moment. Brows crinkled in curiosity, lips pink like they’ve been stained with strawberry juices paired with a smile that nearly ropes in the hearts of all those around him, this sight of Jungkook from this distance does the same to you.

God, he always looked so good but today, he wasn’t.. Hot, he was more than that. He was… handsome, beautiful—all of the above.

This was bad. This was so bad because you’re sinking in quicksand disguised with the ways of Jeon Jungkook and the thing you least imagined to happen is starting to happen. You need to grab on something, someone, anywhere where there’s a branch of hope to get you out, but you’re in too deep.

You might… actually like Jeon Jungkook.

But before you could get lost in your thoughts, your sister snaps you out of it with a panicked whine. You could hear her through the walls of your house—and although you’re not the maid of honor, the person she picks for it isn’t exactly the most reliable either. She isn’t quite equipped for a pressuring scenario, and well… a wedding is a taxing event.

“Yuri!” She wails, stomping her feet against the carpeted floors of her childhood bedroom. Yuri gets hit with a tsunami of worry washed over her face as Suji turns her head with the scariest expression on her face—like a tiger going after its prey. “I thought I asked you to take care of this!”

“I’m sorry,” she responds, voice quivering as she gets on her knees. You furrow your brows at the motion, unsure what to make of what she might potentially do next. “I’m trying…”

“Suji, what’s happening?”

“There’s a stain on my dress, and Yuri was supposed to make sure it’s in perfect condition!”

“She’s your friend, not your servant. Here—” you gesture one of the bridesmaids over and hand her the key fob to your car. “Grab the tide to-go pen in the glove compartment. We’ll try that first and if that doesn’t work, I’m sure mom has something in the laundry room.”

Suji is huffing and puffing, smoke practically whistling out her ears with her arms crossed over her chest, veil draping over her shoulders and dress dragging along behind her. She’s so pretty today, despite all the anger boiling in her blood, but she looks like an angel from heaven. “Don’t be sad, lil sis. It’s just a little stain. It’ll get stained worse anyways when you walk down the aisle in grass to your future hubby.”

“OK, but this day needs to be perfect. I had a binder that planned everything out since I was in middle school—” Suji is the epitome of what you described as those girls at that age, and she’s currently living the dream of being able to make it happen. “—and it has to be what it looks like. Sure, I upgraded the tacky stuff to find me at my age, but I need it to be… that.”

“It doesn’t have to be that.”

“It does!” She exclaims, a foot slamming into the floor that’s only cushioned to muffle the sound. “If he’s going to be my forever, then today is the only day that I can make this my day.”

“Right, but you also forget that it’s his day too. And not to mention that it’s possibly the only time you’re going to get married, so you want this day to be great. So instead of wasting your time throwing a tantrum like an actual middle schooler, how about we just make this day as lovely as we can and reminisce on the good memories instead of creating bad ones.”

Her tongue pokes the inside of her cheek. “I guess… you’re right. I love him, and I know that he’s the ‘one’ so…” She sighs, shoulders dropping along with the look on her face. “I just want it to be perfect. Imagine our kids in the future, turning the pages of our photo album. I want it to be perfect, to be special—“

“You keep saying ‘perfect’ when in reality, they’re just gonna wanna see their parents happy on their wedding day. They’re not gonna care that their mom has a tiny dirt stain on her dress, or if the flowers aren’t the exact shade of lavender that you wanted. They’re gonna be focused on those smiles plastered on your faces—grinning from ear to ear, big teeth in everyone’s faces.” You steal a seat on the stool beside your sister, fingers fiddling on your lap. “You’re living your dream. Sure, not everything is going to go by the book tonight, but the fact that it’s pretty damn close is good enough.”

She nods; tears begin to well up in her eyes and you groan. “Don’t cry, you’re gonna ruin your makeup!”

“I just—“ She snatches a tissue from a box nearby, dabbing the inner corners of her eyes to catch the tears before they fall. “That was good advice. And… I’ll take you up for it, that is… if you’ll take up on mine.”

Well… that’s different.

“Uh, what do you mean?”

Suji frowns. “I’m your little sister, but I’m not that little and I’m also not that dumb.” You tilt your head in confusion, uncertain where she was leading the conversation. “Remember back a couple months ago, when I came to visit you, my big sis, in the big city, living out her big dreams?”

“Uh… yeah?”

“And, despite your constant denial of being with someone, I still saw that bright look on your face whenever your phone lit up with a specific name that spread across the screen?”

You grimace. “I did not look like that.”

“Well, in comparison to now, I would say that during that time, it was a bit dim because now you look like the brightest star in the sky. I know… I know that you and Jungkook were uh… not really a fling, but not really a couple either.”

Intriguing, because you never showed any signs of this but Suji picked this up? “When you went to work that one day, he came by your place while I was staying there.” Your face drops. “OK, but before you get all pissy, hear me out.”

“Jeon Jungkook stopped by my apartment… as a fuck buddy, while my sister was there.”

“Right but—“

“What the hell!”

“I said listen!” Although you want to counter back, it’s her special day after all, and starting a fight with your sister on her wedding day isn’t the most ideal scenario. “I uh, he might’ve not realized it then, but he’s been smitten with you since then. Well, before, really, since it seemed like it wasn’t the first time he looked that way.”

Annoyed, it’s your turn to cross your arms. “Like what?”

“Like he wanted to impress me because he liked you.”

This is new. You can’t help but snort a laugh, the back of your hand covering your face in utter shock, shaking your head in disbelief at her observation. “Where are you going with this?”

She shrugs, pursing her lips as her eyes skim her bedroom. “That… I’m glad you finally took him in as your boyfriend officially. I know you’ve always advocated for being a career woman, but there’s no harm in being both a career woman and being in love. You don’t have to be those people who are dependent on their significant other, like mom, but you can just be… you when you’re with him. He can take care of you, and you can take care of him. Goes both ways.” Her eyes eventually meet yours. “I see the way he looks at you. He’s not the type of person like mom is, expecting you to toss everything you’ve worked hard for just to be a housewife. He likes you for… you. Potentially even love.”

There’s that l word again, the word that slipped off the tip of your tongue so carelessly during a night of intoxication. You weren’t even that drunk, you have to admit, because it was only a couple shots, but something in you spurred the words out like vomit. Jungkook has yet to confront you about it, and it only makes you feel queasy just thinking about what he’d potentially say.

“I… Maybe, I don’t know,” you sigh, watching outside the window to see the bridesmaid that you sent on a mission run back in a frenzy, probably fearing that your sister has transformed into Bridezilla once more. “Maybe I need a sweeter guy, one that has a decent job, shares a lot of things in common with me, and one day wants to settle.”

Suji furrows her brows. “Jungkook is sweet. When you went to the bathroom the other day, Horny—” Suji clears her throat, eyes scanning the room to confirm that your cousin isn’t there, “—Horny Hyunae tried pulling a move on him and he was quick to just reiterate once more that he’s yours and not hers. He’s sweet, sis, you’re just too scared to see it. And a decent job doesn’t mean he has to be a doctor. Imagine you being with another doctor. You guys would probably rarely meet. Plus, not all couples have to be a replica of each other—wouldn’t that be boring? And… And Jungkook… maybe he’s not confident right now, but if he really wanted to be with you and you wanted to settle, he’d at least take it into consideration. So… why can’t you fully put yourself in a relationship with him and give it a go? Not just use the term ‘boyfriend’ loosely, but… treat him like he’s your boyfriend, because he is.”

Before you could formulate a response, the bridesmaid is already up the stairs, panting as she hands you back the key fob while waving the tide to-go pen. “I got it!”

“There you are,” Jungkook has a glass of champagne in hand, the liquid courage halfway full, with his other hand dug deep into the pockets of his trousers. “I’ve been waiting all this time for you. Met up with your sister?”

“Uh, yeah,” you nod, realizing that the two of you are matching in black attire. You’ve opted for a silky midnight dress, one that follows your silhouette almost tightly, and Jungkook would be lying if he didn’t say that he was watching you the entire time as you made your way toward him. “She was unleashing the demon inside of her because there was a minor stain on her dress. Worked out though, she’s calmer now.”

“Mm,” he hums, mimicking your nod. “Hope you’re not like that on our wedding day.”

You freeze.

There’s something weird about hearing Jungkook say ‘our’ instead of just ‘your’ with the word ‘wedding’ trailing behind it because it’s not… your wedding he’s thinking about, it’s the both of you. The thought of Jungkook standing at the alter, patiently waiting for your appearance down the aisle—fuck, erase erase. You shouldn’t even be thinking about anything of that nature, especially not since you haven’t even claimed Jungkook as your boyfriend officially. It’s too soon. It’s way too soon. He’s still a fuckboy.

Right?

Right.

Or so, you think. He’s different these days, and you say that quite often, but he’s truly been… different. He’s actually been toning down, trying to be less intolerable, but enough that he’s still himself. The other day, he made a flirtatious comment about your ass, but when a passerby complimented a girl standing inside the store, Jungkook glanced for a brief second but didn’t even bat a lash. He didn’t try getting her number, approaching her to compete with the other guy to ‘state his dominance.’ He just… stood by you, holding the menu in hand for you to see more clearly and asked, “are you sure you don’t want to get the spicier one?”

It’s even stranger that the two of you hang out casually now. Before, it’d be a quick booty call, sleep over, and that’s it. Wake up the next morning, shuffle to get your clothes on and make your way to work.

But now, he comes straight after work to your place, offers to either help cook dinner or stop by somewhere to grab something and stays the night.

Who the fuck is this guy?

You definitely need a drink. Eyes zooming directly on the glass in his hand, you don’t hesitate to snatch it and give it a swing. Jungkook isn’t fazed by this, using his now vacant hand to stuff into the other pocket. “I have a scar now from the stab,” he states nonchalantly, inspecting the look on your face. You’re without a doubt troubled, fighting with whatever thoughts it is inside of your head, and he assumes that it’s from your sister being married and not you, so his goal is to create some type of distraction. “I thought you said I wouldn’t get any scars from your stitching.”

“I never said that,” you roll your eyes. “I said it’ll make the scarring results a bit better. Why? You don’t like my work?”

“No, I love your work,” he responds, and that l word haunts you worse than a demon in those horror movies. “I just figured I would try to keep your mind off things by bringing it up.”

“Off what things?”

“You know,” he shrugs. “Your sister is getting married. I know you wanted to get married, and the stigma is that the older sibling is supposed to get married first, and there’s that superstition that if the younger one gets married before the older one, the older one won’t ever get married.”

Is… that what he thinks you’ve been so lost about?

It’s sort of endearing, hearing the way he talks about making attempts to create a shift in conversation so that you’re not feeling conflicted about being at your sister’s wedding. Because in reality, he’s the one occupying your mind. He’s taken over like a plague, infiltrating all your thoughts, to the point that when you’re grabbing boba tea from the shop around the corner for your apartment, your head immediately directs to ‘Is Jungkook over? Does he want a cup?’ And when you know he’d be over for the night, you don’t forget to put that extra towel on the hook in the bathroom for him when he showers. Or even making sure you have a couple water bottles in the fridge because Jungkook prefers to drink water cold than room temperature.

“Oh, I uh, I’m not really so worried about that,” you mention, rubbing your nape awkwardly. “They’re just superstitions.”

“Good, because they are. Your sister is about to get married and I still want to be with you.”

You nearly choke on the champagne, mid-sip and Jungkook rubs your back soothingly. “You alright?”

“Sorry, I just… I wasn’t sure if I heard that right.”

“Yeah, you did. I uh… I still mean what I said, even though this is entirely a new territory for me. I don’t want to say that we technically are boyfriend and girlfriend, but we’re literally at each other’s places everyday, I even have a spare toothbrush sitting on your sink. So… I hope that in comfort, that superstition doesn’t play when it comes to you. I still want to… be with you.”

You don’t get a chance to slip in a response because the music begins to play, and you and Jungkook quickly claim the seats in the front row.

It’s beautiful, you have to admit, all this effort that your sister put into this day has really been worth it. Your childhood home’s backyard doesn’t feel like it today—today, it’s her wedding venue.

The flowers are a beautiful shade of lavender (her favorite color), and they cascade down the armrests of the seats that line the aisle, with matching ribbons that tie around the backings on top of the white cloth that cover the chairs. Her future husband stands at the front, hands probably sweaty and heart racing like he’s just run a marathon. And the way his eyes light up at the sight of your sister, at the other end of the aisle with her arm linked with your dad’s, your heart swells.

The little flower girl that tosses the petals into the air practically dances on her route, and the ring bearer can barely walk without falling (he’s adorable, they have the rings tied to the pillow he’s holding because they predicted this). You can’t help but notice your mom’s face through it all—eyes welling up with tears, smiling so wide with her cheeks close to bursting in happiness and excitement, all while clasping her hands together and constantly gushing with her friends surrounding her. “Oh!” She exclaims, shaking her head. “My lovely daughter is getting married!”

You want to scowl, but you won’t. Today is your sister’s day, not yours, and her happiness was a priority. But the way your mom gazes at your sister dreamily, walking down the aisle with the biggest grin on her face, and her constant probing from the weeks before about how you’re never going to get married at this rate only makes you feel small, despite the fact you made yourself into this independent, strong person. Albeit none of that matters when your mother still looks at you disappointingly.

It’s like Jungkook senses the shift in your emotions, because he rests his hand comfortingly on your thigh, just above the knee, and when your eyes lock, his expression softens.

The ceremony flows well; there’s tears, laughs, and hollers, all supporting the main couple. They say their vows, exchange rings, and end things off with a loving kiss that sparks fireworks into the sky. That look on Suji’s face is filled with infatuation, hopelessly in love with the man in front of her, but the moment you glance at her new husband’s face—it’s a mirror of hers.

You… want that.

Jungkook has mentioned before that maybe these things are just something that you might want but may not truly want for yourself. But seeing your sister have it is only confirmation of it, and part of you… wishes that you had someone like that.

And for the first time, Jungkook comes to mind.

Maybe it’s because he’s sitting next to you, you attempt to reason, albeit he’s always been running through your head. The fact that the two of you had gotten relatively closer these past few weeks, him waiting patiently for a specific label to be presented by you, was adding to more of the reasons why he’s now a perfect candidate versus the old version of himself.

When the reception begins, you shoo Jungkook to find something occupy himself while you lend a hand to your sister and mom with greeting any additional guests that come in.

From his perspective, he feels like a balloon with too much air in it, threatening to burst.

Not that he was gassy, but more like he was filled with… emotion, and impatience, close to rupturing. Especially lately, Jungkook has been rethinking his entire life plan, ever since you decided that it was either date seriously or nothing. Truthfully, he thought that he could convince you otherwise—lead you to wish for an uncommitted relationship, but if he was to confess sincerely… you seemed to have changed his mind.

He saw your relatives chasing the kids around who holler and giggle gleefully, smiles plastered widely on their faces. One of your cousins, Nayeon (if he remembers their name correctly), was running after her toddler daughter around the second floor of your parents’ house after the baby showered, completely in the nude. He saw your grandfather, standing in the corner of the hallway, trying his best to catch the little one but his stomach was too big and he couldn't bend over far enough to grab her.

But then he saw Naeun’s husband; albeit his wife was sweating, hair out of place and completely stressed out by this crazy toddler, his face… exhibits adoration.

“Baby,” he remembers the man calling out to his love, snatching her up into his embrace with a soothing hum. “Go rest up. I’ll get her dressed and ready for bed, yeah?”

Naeun’s shoulders drop, eyes sunken from tiredness. She’s probably been taking care of the baby nonstop, and having to deal with family members in the midst of it, so when her husband stops her, it’s like she’s finally got a second to breathe again. “I—But the baby,”

“Yes, I got her,” he assures her, pressing a kiss on her temple. “I’ll take care of it. Go shower and rest up.”

And for a brief moment, Jungkook thought it was the two of you.

He sees himself, telling you to take a breather, to let him watch over the little ones as you shower. He sees himself, pressing gentle kisses on the crown of your head with an exchanging soft chuckle between the two of you, whispering a brisk ‘I love you’s because the kids are at it again with their crazy shenanigans, bulldozing everything in sight before he can get a chance to keep up with them. He sees himself, that day when your sister is looking up at her now-husband, but instead of your sister, it’s you.

To be quite fair, Jungkook isn’t a hundred percent solid on whether or not he wants this specific future. It’s particularly different from the route he’s always presented to himself, and it’s an uncharted territory for him but one thing he knows for sure is that he wants you.

He wants to see you when he comes home after a day of work, he wants you beside him on weekday nights, snuggling underneath the blanket while on the couch, watching some stupid movie you chose. He favors eating from those take-out boxes or even a nice home cooked meal, but only because you’re with him, despite the fact that there’s not much that the two of you have in common… something about you specifically that has his heart stuttering recently, and being around your family only furthers it.

So when he’s resting his arms on a tall table, beer in hand, blazer unbuttoned and the first few of his dress shirt let loose while faintly listening to some of the men his age that he’s become familiar with at the wedding, he can’t fully focus on anything other than you from across the venue.

Hair let free, cascading over your exposed shoulders, and pretty collarbones out for everyone to see, Jungkook doesn’t think there’s anyone in comparison when it comes to you. The head attached to those graceful shoulders holds so much intelligence, always teaching him something new with each encounter he has with you, and he truly feels grateful to have met someone like you.

“Hey,” one of the dudes calls out, interrupting Jungkook’s dreamy gaze in your direction. “Hottie at 6:00.”

Jungkook clicks his tongue, lazily turning to where the guy points out, along with the other three guys with him. It’s both Horny—Hyunae (he has to remind himself to stop saying that because you keep engraving it into his head) with another one of your relatives (Jungkook can’t keep up with all their names). “Which one?” the one dude with purple hair queries.

“Both,” the original guy says, smirking as he takes another sip of his drink before nudging Jungkook. “You tryna get one and I get the other?”

“Hey, what about me?” the purple hair guy looks at him with a confused expression. “Am I not hot enough?”

“In comparison to him? Nah. I’d rather have him as my wingman. You see the tattoos on his hands? Probably makes those girls’ panties wet in mere seconds.”

Jungkook waves them both off. “Nah, count me out. I got another one I’m targeting.”

The first guy scoffs, putting his drink beside Jungkook, more intrigued by him than the girls now. “Interesting. You have another girl in mind? Who is it? I wanna see.”

Without hesitation, Jungkook gestures to your direction, straightening his posture when he sees you turning, giving him a small wave before going back to the guests again, shaking their hands and giving them your lovely smiles.

“The bride’s sister?”

“Shit, I know her. That’s a stretch.”

He can’t help but let out a laugh, shaking his head at the guys, lifting his beer up in the air. “Wanna see my game? Since you think I’m hot enough to land any girl, right? Watch this.”

With that, he makes his way over to you, and when you turn to him with a smile that’s softer, warmer than the ones you’ve been handing off to the guests, he feels his heart blooming more than all the flowers at the venue. He’s never felt like this before—this thing happening inside of him where his chest is tight, stomach doing flips despite not being nervous about anything, other than just being in close proximity. Have you always been this pretty?

A hand on your waist, you pat his chest comfortingly before resuming back to your activities, and Jungkook turns to give a wink at the guys who stand in awe, mouths dropped at his game.

If they only knew.

He wasn’t the one that caught you. You caught him.

The weekend was nice, you have to admit; spending time with your family (even though they were super judgemental at times) and seeing your sister get happily married was blissful.

But all good things come to an end.

Holding the end of your clipboard against yourself, you’re skimming through the patient’s chart with previous notes made by the doctor, orders on what she should be more cautious about, and directions on how to prevent another instance. Yet, she’s here. In a room in the ER, claiming to have liver issues yet again.

“This is your second time here, Lisa,” you purse your lips, taking a seat on the swivel stool. “What’s up? I thought the last doctor told you to cut your alcohol intake. Even the specialist said the same thing.”

“I did!” She exclaims defensively.

You drop the clipboard onto the tray beside you before crossing your arms, “... so how’d you do that? How much were you drinking instead?”

“What do you mean? I just ran a knife through it while pouring.”

You almost gave yourself a physical facepalm, but your job description doesn’t have ‘make patients feel dumb’ or ‘call them fucking idioits’ in it, unfortunately.

After following the procedures to take care of Lisa, you’ve sent her off to proper care. Leaving her room, you let out a heavy sigh, pumping a couple squirts of hand sanitizer from a bottle that sits at the nurses’ station when you notice Nurse Hyerim peering at you suspiciously. “Uh… yes, Hyerim?”

“So, about Dr. Hyunjin—”

“Mm,” you hum teasingly, resting your forearms against the counter, a smirk tugging on the edges of your lips. “Dr. Hyunjin’s name seems to come out of your mouth quite frequently. Are you going to ask me if I’m going on a date with him again? Just out of curiosity and thirst for drama to share through the grapevine? Or perhaps…” your wag your finger jokingly before pointing at her. “... you’re interested in Dr. Hyunjin and wanna take him out on a date.”

Hyerim is stuttering, words unable to escape from her mouth properly. “I-Uh, I—”

“Mm, if that’s the case, then no, I am not seeing him again, and you’re more than welcome to hit that.”

In disbelief, she puffs a breath of air that blows her hair away from her face. “Wh—What? It’s not even like that! What about you? What happened between the two of you?”

You shrug nonchalantly, playing with the pens in the plastic holder. “Nothing just… you know.”

This time, it’s Nurse Hyerim’s turn to taunt you. “Does this… have to do with that pretty boy from 18B?”

“I mean…” just the thought of Jungkook has your face heated. The two of you haven’t been able to have a proper conversation about what happened the day at the wedding, what he professed, and how you felt in return. “Would it be crazy? You know. For the two of us to be together. Insane, right?”

Hyerim’s confused. “What? You do realize you’re two hot people… right?”

“It’s not even like that.”

“Well, what’s the problem?” She tilts her head, puzzled. “Does he still not want to be your boyfriend?”

“Uh, actually, he wants to date now.”

Hyerim slams her hand on the counter, completely baffled. A couple heads turn and you wince internally. “Are you kidding? No offense doc, you’re hella smart but also very stupid. We’re talking about hottie in 18B here—“ geez, you’re praying no one is currently occupying 18B right now “—the one that has that rep of being a ‘fuckboy’ and I don’t even have to know him to know that. He wants you, bitch you better go for that before someone else snatches him.”

“Did you just call me a bitch?”

“Heat of the moment. You get it.”

“Mm,” you hum because everything Hyerim is saying isn’t new information. “Alright. I’ll… I’ll talk to him tonight. Maybe. We’ll see.”

Jungkook mentions prior to your lunch break that he’ll be over tonight, but “later. gotta take care of some stuff back at my apartment.” And at first, you considered waiting patiently in your living room, wine on the table and maybe in some cute ass lingerie and a silky robe—but why wait when you can just… go to him?

Of course, you’re not insane. It's been chilly recently these nights, so you’re not going to go strutting in lingerie underneath a thin ass robe. But, you’ll sport those jeans he says makes your ass look juicy, and a comfortable long sleeve to get him thinking that nothing will happen at the end of the night. (Spoiler: dirty things are going to happen that night.)

But you’re starting to learn from your mistakes, something that they teach you throughout all of your education career, from preschool up to high school, and even in college. They teach you in books; the life lesson is to learn from your mistakes and try your best not to make them again.

So, when Jungkook opens the door, completely shocked and unsure what to say, you’re left speechless too.

He didn’t lie—you make this very clear, but he wasn’t being entirely candid and open either.

Because that girl that stabbed him—the one that caused the scar in his abdomen, the one that made you be the one to tend to his wounds, is sitting in the dining room, with who you assume is her parents, all dolled up for the occasion while the mother lays the dishes on the glass table.

“What—What’s happening?” That’s all you can say. Well, what else could you say? You’re a doctor. You should keep your composure—acting out only makes you look bad and what if the cops come? A doctor getting arrested?

To be fair—you’re not that intense to warrant a visit from the cops.

But nonetheless, you’re fuming.

“Baby,” he whispers softly, shutting his door behind him to push you out into the hall. “I thought I said we’d meet after I take care of some things.”

“Take care of some bitch like she’s your girlfriend?” What the fuck is this guy talking about? How dense is he? “You got her parents in there too? What is this? Meet-the-boyfriend dinner? Did you come to my place for practice or what?”

“Baby,” Jungkook says again, quieter. “Relax. I actually wanted to talk to you about this tonight.”

“Bullshit—“

“Fuck! Alright, I know it was wrong of me and I should’ve told you earlier, but I thought she was over it and I cut her off, okay? I didn’t know she’d bring her fucking parents here!”

If having question marks above your head was an action that occurred in real life, now would be the time for them to appear. “Huh?”

“Can we talk about this later?” He says, those chocolate pools he calls his eyes are pulling you in, and in mere seconds, you’re already drowning in the sweetness. "I know it sounds insane, but there's a very good reason why I'm being so shady about this. It's not because I don't like you, or that I'm playing you either. I just... this is an embarrassing side of me and I really just want to figure this out before I make... us work."

You suck in your cheeks in defeat. He has a way with words, you admit, but you're starting to feel like he's testing his chances with you. “11:00PM. Sharp. If you’re not at my doorstep by then, you can consider this done.”

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#jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #gyukultfics #jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts

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missgeniality · 3 years

Text

A Date With Destiny (m)

“Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves, alone - we find it with another.” - Thomas Merton

➺ Pairing: Jungkook x Female Reader

➺ Trope: Strangers to Lovers, Idol!AU

➺ Genre: Fluff, Smut, one comedian in the mix

➺ Rating: 18+

➺ Word Count: 11k

➺ Summary: You are a boss lady in the tech industry travelling to world for work. He is a chart-topping artist touring the globe to perform in front of millions of fans. In the cosmos of life, you are not likely to cross paths. Luckily, fate has a different plan for you two.

➺ Warnings: dom!jk, unprotected sex (sex is cleaner when you pack your weiner!), hickeys galore, lot of spit, oral (male and female receiving), balls receive attention, throat fucking, cum eating, edging, masturbation kinda?, cum play, pussy slapping, pussy sniffing, fingering, squirting, spanking, pain kink?, tit slapping, reader teases a bit but this man is a tease maestro, cum stuffing (is that a thing even?), Jungkook’s THIGHS need their own warning

➺ Author’s Note: @ppersonna is an angel among us peasants. Thank you so much for all your help with this! This is my first attempt at writing, and the tiniest feedback goes a long way! Hope you enjoy!

When you die, the first pit stop you make is to the coffee gods.

Without coffee, this whole month would have been a disaster. Back-to-back meetings, daily flights, countless documents being read, it’s a miracle your eyes are open and fully functioning.

Being the Chief Technical Officer of a well-established company at your age had been anything but a cakewalk. You had strived hard and crossed many boulders to come to where you are. But if reaching that point required huge amounts of effort, now your work is tenfold.

“Why can’t I just get longer flights so I can nap in them?” You mumble into your nth cup of coffee - not keeping count is for your own sanity.

“Because longer flights apparently have crying children. You, our resident baby-magnet hypothesized that shorter flights equal more time in hotel rooms ‘sleeping’. Guess who sleeps in said hotel rooms? Everyone but you.” Your personal assistant and part-time truth-spouter Jake offers helpfully.

“Past me was such an idiot.” You shoot back, wondering if you could inject the espresso right through your veins.

Jake pouts. “Woman, you take on jobs that an intern could do. If you weren’t such an unnecessary perfectionist I would be on the beaches of Thailand, getting sensual massages and eating some pretty pussy. But here we are, on our way to Seoul. So quit your whining because clearly, I have lost more.”

“What if I wanted to do that too?”

“Can I watch?”

“Right.” And that was the end of the conversation.

Passengers on flight KE654 from Bangkok to Seoul are requested to report for boarding at Gate 45A. First Class passengers will be boarded first, followed by Business class and lastly Economy. Please keep your boarding pass ready for checking.

Jake stands up, groaning. “This is where we say goodbye. Do you wanna pretend like we’re strangers and have a hot one-night stand when we land?”

“Sometimes I think it’s your natural response to flirt with a breathing being. Do you ever accidentally just, you know, flirt with a tree?” You try to sound sarcastic, but you’re genuinely curious.

“If a day comes when a hot specimen like me has to flirt with a tree, humanity is doomed. Catch ya later!” He blows you a kiss before leaving for the restroom. You shake your head in awe, a small smile finding your lips. He knew how to get your mind off things.

For all his flirting, Jake’s interest in you is perfunctory. He looks after you, keeps you from starving or gouging your eyeballs out, and calms you when things are too hard. He’s seen your worst. You’ve seen him drunk out of his mind, bailed him out when he “accidentally” smoked up, and heard every new pick-up line his ingenious brain churned out. Basically, you’ve seen his worst as well.

You take a look at your boarding pass. 3C. Jake would be in business class, and you in first. Not your choice, the company makes the rules. It's for the better, he says. Apparently, he can ‘prowl for his hunt better’, without your judgmental glare. You nearly vomit on him just for his choice of words.

Entering the flight, you stash away your hand baggage the first place you find the room and head to your seat and-

Holy. Shit.

Jeon Jungkook is sitting on your seat.

Jeon Jungkook is on your flight?

BTS is on your flight?

What are the odds?

Granted, you’re not a 16-year old obsessive fan, collecting photocards and waving light sticks through the screen, but even in your adulthood you’ve admired their music and shows, routinely keeping up with their discography.

Hell, you even learned Korean years ago to better understand their songs. Maybe you are an obsessive fan.

But you can’t approach them like that. They no doubt want some privacy and not be recognized. God forbid you approach Jungkook with crazy eyes, just to be escorted off the plane for stalking. While you liked their work, you had your own, and getting thrown off this flight does not help you there.

So, you’re just gonna have to speak to him like just another passenger.

BTS who?

Biggest boyband who?

You only listen to Frank Sinatra.

“Excuse me?” You call out, a shiver of a whisper leaving your lips. You immediately chastise yourself for being so star-struck.

Big, round eyes glitter under the bucket hat. The softest ‘huh’ throws a lasso over your heart, and holds it captive. He adjusts his hat, inked fingers making a brief yet lasting appearance. The epitome of tenderness, you muse as his eyes flit here and there to figure out the situation. After finding no one to help him out, he gently offers “Yes?”

You feel extremely guilty for marring his serene face with creases of trouble. “I think this is my seat. See, 3C.” you say, pointing to the seat and then to your ticket for good measure. Did he suspect you recognize them? No. Do you look like you’re over-gesticulating? Totally.

“Oh.” His brow distresses further, the sight has you ready to give the man your seat and hide in the bathroom for the rest of the flight. “But even I am 3C.”

His ticket shows the same characters as yours.

Huh?

With both your faces contorted in confusion, an air hostess comes forward to help.

“We both are booked on the same seat. How does that happen? Do I need to catch another flight?” You suddenly pour out, remembering the countless commitments you have in Seoul that would go down the drain if you don’t make it by tonight.

She's quick to reassure you. “Do not worry ma’am, I’m sure there must have been an error in the printing. I’ll be right back.” At the same time, Jungkook is approached by someone, probably one of their staff, to discuss the issue.

The air hostess returns smiling. “Ma’am, you both were booked on the same seat but this adjacent seat was left empty. We are extremely sorry for the error. You may take 3B.” She reiterates the same message to Jungkook in Korean, who then looks mighty relieved.

Goddamn, his eyes got bigger. How much bigger can they get?

“All okay then?” He glances sideways, smile irradiating your senses and waking you up better than all the coffee could.

“All good. Sorry for the trouble.” You add, even though it isn’t your mistake in any way.

“No no. No trouble” He beams back.

Aw, you are in trouble.

As the flight is about to take off, you can see the rest of BTS in the rows ahead of you, with some other staff members taking up other seats. There’s one old man with a scowl on his face, whom you can’t place with the BigHit group. Great, no crying kids. Unless the frowning grandpa snores to the heavens, you can actually catch a good four-hour snooze. Take that, Jake. Hope a kid blows snot in his face.

Looking at your neighbor, you find him busy searching for a good video game on the screen. The other members seem to be using this flight to catch a nap, except him. You always wondered whether their on-screen persona was real or not. Now you could say at least one of his characteristics is true.

Turning away, you bring your focus back to the document at hand. The schematics for a new product your company was launching. You had spearheaded its conception and looked over every single detail in its manufacturing. The Seoul branch is one of the main players in its production, and your last stop before heading back home. You must have every word in this file burnt in the back of your eyelids to make this deal smooth.

Reclining your seat, and putting your legs up, you got down to business.

An Angel was calling you.

You want to wake up, but you couldn’t, fearing the Angel would stop singing to you. Something is poking you, but the voice just drowns it all out.

Wait...

Fluttering your eyes open, you see Jeon Jungkook staring right at you.

“Hi... They, umm--Food? Want to eat?” the Angel utters. Jungkook utters. Tomato, to-mah-to.

“Oh!” you exclaim, wiping non-existent drool on your face. His palm on your shoulder quickly retracts at your exaggerated attempt to hide your embarrassment. “Thank you so much.”

Then, he does that thing. He smiles. Eye scrunch and all.

Fuck the coffee gods. When you die, you want to meet the Grand Master and ask him what crack he was on to hand over so much power to one man’s smile.

The food is placed on your table, and you thank the hostess graciously.

“Do you need anything to drink?” She asks, to which you only shake your head. There was enough caffeine in your system to shoot a horse to the moon and you were still drowsy. There was no need to catalyze this process with booze.

“Your Korean accent is pretty good.” Your next-seat resident comments. Ah, you had conversed with the hostess in Korean.

“Thank you very much.” You giggle, roleplaying an acne-prone teenager talking to her hunk of a crush.

“Have you been speaking for a long time?” He pops a huge morsel of food after asking. Well, that’s another on-screen quality found to be accurate.

“Six years now. Comes in handy for my work.”

“Oh! Did you have to learn it for work? That’s fascinating.” Another mouthful went in. You didn’t even know it was physically possible to hold that much rice using chopsticks.

“Uhh.. no..” You tussle your hair, trying to stop your cheeks from turning beet red, “I just listened to some music and consuming more content.. and subtitles are a bore, plus I needed a hobby at the time so..”

Your unnecessarily long explanation was cut short by Jungkook’s child-like laugh, enjoying the pickle you were putting yourself in.

“Hey! I just didn’t want to put you in an uncomfortable situation, that’s all.” you try to be cross, knowing it’s inconceivable since God himself seems to have given him whatever he wanted. If big ol’ Almighty can’t stand against his charms, you are but a mere pleb.

He looks at you kindly. “Thank you, that was very thoughtful. I’ve been speaking to so many foreigners trying to get across to them I got surprised when you spoke so fluently.”

He went back to chomping on his food like it was his last meal, completely unaware of your staring.

You both speak for a long time. He explains their latest shoot and fan meeting, and you listen to him pour out his love for his job and fans as much as he could articulate. The rest of the emotion is portrayed by his now widest eyeballs (they cannot get any wider, you confirm by asking him - a request he apparently gets a lot) and intense gesticulation. It is very gratifying to listen to his past schedules, and you slip in a quick prayer for not having a job where you had to maintain public appearances while having a schedule as persevering as theirs. Sure, you had a ton of commitments. But can you throw your hair in a bun and aggressively scowl at a monitor and still meet your target? Fuck yeah.

You went on to tell him about yourself - your job, your travels, the reason you were in Seoul. He listens to them with rapt attention throwing in appropriate questions without interrupting your flow. He gives the right amount of sympathy; just enough to show that he understands why you have three sets of nightwear and a futon in your office, but not too much where it seems like you should “take a break” and “think about the joys of motherhood” - as you are often told.

During the conversation, you digress a little to take in his slight features. The apple of his cheeks, in full display, when he tells you about how he pranked his members. The light pout of his lips when he talks about the times their path seemed too far-fetched, when every single obstacle felt like the end of their career. The stars in his eyes when he speaks of how he feels during tours, meeting the endless number of fans, the drive that keeps him going. They all make an endearing package. Eager to please, you kept the conversation going with gusto. The meal is followed by a snack break, after which you had effectively exhausted all conversation topics that could be brought up with near-strangers.

A quick alcohol break later, (yes, you caved, the catalyst was welcome) you both doze off, seemingly exhausted from recollecting respective timetables. He wakes up soon after to play video games and talk to the other members. But you fall into a deep slumber, with an Angel’s chuckles in the background guiding you through the sleep.

Jungkook wakes up to see his character dead. The video game was forgotten after his conversation with you began.

He spent an inordinate amount of time talking to you. And now that you’re asleep, he is only thinking about how much he enjoyed the conversation. Jungkook is not a speaker. His introversion leaves much to be desired in that department. Most of the time, his members cover for him, play the role of dutiful wingmen, and introduce him to their friends. And still, it took him a long time to talk freely.

But something about you made him open up.

Maybe it was the way you listened to him, lips slightly parted when you were absorbing every single word he let out. Maybe it was the questions you asked, treading lightly and skirting any personal questions. Maybe it was the fact that you pretended to not know him at first, mindful of his privacy. The butterflies in him could be explained by this.

But.

It could also be how graceful you looked, even though you’re dressed in sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt. It could be how you carried yourself, with great elegance and poise, even though your work was taxing. It could also be your toe socks, and your glee when he showed you his.

Your personality is infectious. He already misses you, despite you being inches away, desperately wants to exhaust every second of this journey engrossed in you.

He wonders if you feel that way too.

Speaking of whom-

A snicker escapes his lips when he turns to face you.

In your sleepy haze, Jungkook sees that a) your mouth is wide open, b) your hands mindlessly fiddle with the reams of pages on your lap, and c) your eyes scrunch as sunlight pierces through the flight to bounce off your face. Cute, he muses, trying to locate the source of the criminal rays irking you.

The window letting the sunbeam in is beside an old man sitting on the other end. He is eyeing the magazine in his hands with abject disapproval, like the booklet had sullied him and his family.

Gathering up the courage, Jungkook calls out for the man.

“Excuse me, sir. Do you mind pulling the window shade?” He asks, in the sweetest voice that his hyungs would melt at first listen.

Puppy eyes are met with the geezer’s piercing glare, making Jungkook wonder if he accidentally said something strikingly offensive instead of what he thought he said. About to backtrack his words and try again, he gets interrupted by the man letting out a big grunt, after which he continues in his endeavor to telepathically set fire to the magazine. He does not forget to give a nasty side-eye but completely refuses to comply with Jungkook’s request.

“And my team thinks my glares are spooky.” You pique, having witnessed the whole interaction, “I ought to have him on board”. Jungkook snorts, and you take that to be his agreement.

Pausing, you throw caution in the wind and add, “Thank you though, that was very sweet of you.”

He eyes you demurely. “No problem, you looked like you needed the rest.”

“Listen, I-”

“So I was think-”

Ladies and gentlemen, we have just been cleared to land at the Incheon International airport. Please ensure your backpacks and suitcases are stowed away in the overhead compartments or underneath the seats ahead of you. The flight attendants are currently passing around the cabin to make a final compliance check and pick up any remaining cups and glasses. Thank you.

High-quality curses almost make it to heaven (speakers). The announcement dissipates all the courage you had mustered, feeling a rush exit your body. You had almost asked for his contact - and by the looks of it, he had wanted it too. Or maybe your hair is a rat's nest and he was just going to point that out. Guess you will never know.

You shyly smile at each other before going about following the instructions. Your half-read document gets stuffed back into its bag, to be read once you have no distractions in the form of eye candy armed with saccharine speech. Well, you have Jake to distract you plenty, but you can shoo him away by threatening his paycheck.

As the flight descends, you look over to your neighbor - one last time, you guess - and surprisingly lock eyes with him. Anything that had exited you comes rushing back, veins in full alertness. A moment’s awkwardness later you both burst out laughing, each doing their best to hide their crimson cheeks. You find one more online fact to be true - Jungkook’s peak happiness laughter, eye crinkle and nose scrunch, can melt your whole entire heart.

“Hey mami, come here often?”

“For the last time Jake, I will not hesitate to donate your bones for science.”

“Well, I heard bone, it's already a win for me.”

You let out a sigh of exasperation. There is no reforming him.

“How was the flight?” Jake questions as you approach the baggage belt. Looking out for your somber black suitcase, you try to play it off like you did not spend the whole time in the company of a stranger who is on the fast track to your heart.

“The usual. Sleep, eat, read needlessly printed out documents that could have been shoved into on email, repeat. What about you?”

As Jake starts an account of his flight experience in exorbitant detail, you took the opportunity to try and find your ride. Once you locate it and get in, you catch the end of his sermon.

“-and the name of the book will be ‘How to manage a farm - ‘cause chicks gon’ be crazy!’. What do you think?”

“I think it was a good idea I chose to zone out.”

“Y/N come on! It’s a self-help book for poor souls born without my raw charisma. Men and women out there want me, but I can’t satisfy them all. I will just resort to making more of me! It will have pointers, DIY’s and pick-up lines crafted by yours truly - wanna hear one?”

You throw your bag in front and turn to him. “Do I have a choice? Go ahead.”

Grinning like a Cheshire cat, he starts. “Am I cute? Squish my cheeks. Am I hot? Clap my cheeks.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Points for creativity. You’ll still get wine splashed at you.”

Jake was not one to give up. “‘It’s good we don’t need eye condoms, or you’d be on your way to delivery.’”

“Just… don’t have kids, okay? This gene must be stopped, right here.”

“Okay, this one is my all-time favorite. ‘Rack so big, I don’t motorboat, I motorship.’”

That’s it. The guffaw itching you since the start of this conversation is out of its cages, populating the air in the car. Wiping stray tears from your face, you face Jake, seeming very pleased with himself. Undoubtedly, he is coming up with absurd scenarios to ease your nerves. No book is in the works (one could only hope).

“Thank you, I feel much better now. You can stop coming up with these.”

The goof has the gall to look appalled. “I was going to cut you ten percent of my book commission but I guess that’s out. Hmph.”

“I’m at the receiving end of all these pick-up lines. I should make twenty at least for all the nuisance I’ve put up with.”

“All right mami, we’ll shelve this for later. Here’s the schedule for today. You have a 10 a.m. breakfast meeting with Dr. Park Shin Young, Lead Research Scientist of the project. Then you have a bunch of seminars to attend, which will go on all afternoon. There’s a bar right beside this venue.”

“How is that pertinent?”

“So you know where to find me.” He continues, unperturbed. “After which there’s an evening meeting with the whole team to demonstrate the product and a marketing meeting right after.”

“Am I required for the marketing meeting?” Your expertise is limited to the technical field. PR work isn’t your cup of tea, but they stubbornly demand your presence.

Jake exhales. “We’ve been through this. You CAN doze off during the meeting, but you have to be there. Just pretend you’re a college student, sitting in one class, completing assignments for another.”

“But if I’m there I feel the need to pay attention.” you whine.

“Clearly you weren’t one of those college students,” Jake says, perusing through his diary, “Stop being a pedant and do one of those things people do. Loving their jobs and whatnot.”

Before you can retort a reply, the driver pulls up to your destination and you exit the car.

Eleven at night is when you finally check in to the hotel. The tedious day warrants your heels coming off before you even reach your floor. There’s an irritant drumming, from the balls of your feet right up to your temples, that beg for your attention. Setting your footwear on your bags, you massage your feet for temporary relief as the lift took you closer to a more permanent one.

Once your suitcase gets parked in the closet, you head to the bathroom to soak your day away with the bath bomb kit you were gifted in one of the seminars. The ball fizzles as soon as it hits the water, dispersing in tiny bubbles and a heady aroma of vanilla and lavender. The soft amber tones of the walls, the lambent gold lighting, and the ambrosial air put all your senses at ease. You sink in; the bathwater permeating warmth through your skin. Crackling bubbles with every move; the water teases your neck, soothing the laceration with every lick. Every pulse point on you is enhanced - you let yourself float wherever your mind takes you.

A familiar face makes its presence known. You allow yourself to think about him, after pushing his visage away all day. Something about him… felt like home. Soothing, comforting, always speaking in dulcet tones unless something humorous pulled out a loud laugh. Even that wasn’t jarring; it was the exact opposite. Felt like sunshine filled your lungs every time he cracked up. Made you want to keep talking to him, keep him amused and entertained. You can’t imagine he converses with every stranger like that.

But maybe he did; maybe this is some unspoken celebrity culture you were unaware of.

All you know is that this was a once in a lifetime experience. There’s no way you are encountering another personage ever again. There’s no way you’re encountering him again. Luck can only thrive so far.

So when you exit the bathroom, clad in a towel, remnant bathwater dripping from every end, the last thing you expect is Jungkook, spread out on the bed, casually flipping through his phone like it’s his own abode.

“J-Jungkook?”

Y/N. In his room. In a towel. Dripping wet hair. Emanating a delectable aroma.

Y/N. In person.

He is dreaming. He has to be. He's been thinking of you ever since the flight, so now he is delusional. Nothing else. There’s absolutely no chance that you’re in his room, let alone… like this.

Right?

“What are you… what are you doing in my room?”

Wrong.

Jungkook knows he should say something. He should not be gawking at you like he is doing now. But God. You look so pretty, eyebrows arched up in confusion, jaw about to be unhinged, hands fluttering around not knowing what to do.

He forces his body to action.

"Y/N!" He exclaims, finally averting his eyes to face the wall.

Pause.

"Wait, what do you mean MY room? This is my room!"

You’re baffled. "Huh? How is that possible? This was given to me!"

“I really don’t know, Y/N, there must have been some confusion! Please, you have to believe me!”

Jungkook wants to turn around and face you. He desperately wants to clear the air. He can see that this looks bad. He obviously looks like an enamored creep, waltzing into your space. You probably think he does this all the time. Many a time people have misunderstood him, his celebrity status not earning him many points. You must think the same.

And now you’re going to tell him to get out and never see you again, he hypothesizes. His brain is working overtime trying to remedy the situation, without noticing your now relaxing demeanor.

“Oh, okay.”

“I’ll fix this, I’ll go to the reception and fix this. You don’t worry, I didn’t see anything, you can trust me, I’ll go an-”

“Hey, hey,” your tone gentle, “it’s okay, trust me. Just, let me get dressed and I’ll come down with you.”

Your soothing response almost has Jungkook on his knees. Whoever orchestrated this meet, he is just thankful for this good turn. Anyone else would go berserk, and rightfully so.

But you’re not anyone else.

He isn’t just anyone.

Technically, he isn’t a stranger, you try to justify. You should have been more shocked, enraged, or at least doubtful of his intentions. But you weren’t. You had accepted his explanation, let him stay in your room while you changed in the bathroom, and now are en-route to the main desk to rectify this error.

The air around you two is strained; he won’t even look you in the eye. Any question you have is replied to concisely, leaving no room for a chat. Nothing to disperse the tension between you two.

Like now, in the elevator, Jungkook has done the math and maintains the maximum distance between you. Opposite ends of the diagonal of this lift, his peripheral vision probably barely picks you up. However, his evasion helps in a way--you are able to study his full form.

He is dressed casually, and any lesser man would have seemed casual enough. On him, it is a whole new game. Ripped jeans hugging his sturdy legs, the slashed fabric allowing you a peek of his dangerous thighs. A plain white t-shirt tucked in to show off his lean waistline. The only thing holding you back from having a full-blown wet dream, wide awake, is his chestnut overcoat, saving his modesty and yours.

Jake was right, eye condoms are the need of the century.

To be fair, Jungkook had the worse end. He saw you scantily clad, post-bath glow and everything. You wonder what is going through his mind.

Definitely nothing like the debauchery unfolding in yours.

He has probably seen his fair share of women, and one hot to trot lady isn’t anything new. If anything, him dodging you is a sign of his civility, something you are lacking apparently--ready to jump his bones.

Stop thinking about his thighs, you whore. Get back home and trusty old Vlad the Impaler will take care of you.

The employee’s jaw almost hits the desk as Jungkook explains the situation.

“Ma’am, Sir, we are extremely sorry about this confusion. We usually keep another key for family members, but somehow you got them both. We are deeply apologetic.”

“Yes, it’s okay, I’d just like my room key now and-”

“We will give you the best of our service to make up for this disorder. Not that we didn’t plan on giving you the best anyway, but now it will be top-notch! Please allow us to have your room cleaned again ma’am. Kyuyoung-ah! Get the people to prep 5338 and set 5337 again, and add more flowers!”

“Hey, that really won’t be necessary, we can just go back and forget about all thi-”

“And!” She continues, relentless, fully intent on doing her job, “Here are coupons for our round the clock pub! The ambiance is phenomenal, and our bartender makes a mean drink! You can use the facility for free during your stay. Hope this compensates for our gaffe. Once again, we are extremely sorry!”

She extends two passport-sized coupons that you hurriedly grab, wanting this quandary to end.

The walk back to the elevator is less tight-lipped, only because Jungkook starts his deluge of apologies. Even though you had felt the same way on the flight, he was going overboard. You quickly assuage him and deflect his concerns.

“It’s okay, Jungkook. It really is. I know it was a mistake.”

“I know, but I shouldn’t have just walked in like that. I should have checked.”

Your expression is the visual form of a question mark.

“Do you go around making sure your hotel room doesn’t have a surprise occupant?”

You’re taking this too lightly; it's obvious you are doing it for him. He can only laugh, broad delicious shoulders loosening in relief.

After a delay, you add, “You can’t help it if fate wants us crossing paths like this.”

The quip makes Jungkook lose a beat. He cocks a brow in surprise - at that juncture, his features lose all boyish charm and turn unquestionably irresistible.

Then, in a flash, the expression is replaced by his usual grin, back to his boy-next-door spirit. Are there world records for this speed? Jungkook needs to sign up to one.

Collecting the stars floating around your head, you return the favor, thankful that the barrier is now broken.

After a quick break of courage gathering, you turn to him. “How come you’re staying in this hotel? Thought you’d be home.”

A thought is building in your mind; that this is too personal a question. But before you can take it back, you hear a chime. Jungkook moves. And somehow, you are moving with him.

The elevator door opens, and people walk out.

But that’s not where your attention is.

You are focused on the sole patch of your body in contact with Jungkook’s arm.

The palm of his hand sitting at the small of your waist is what had guided you away from the elevator. Even through the fabric of your t-shirt, his hand is sending goosebumps all over your body. The air feels twenty degrees too hot for you.

Jungkook is simply being his chivalrous self, while you are ready to get arrested for public nudity.

Woman, you are a disgrace. Get laid.

Jungkook will high five himself once he gets to his pad.

Is it right to get so euphoric about the smallest act of intimacy? That too with a near stranger? He has no answer. You are special to him; that much he knows. And someone up there agrees with him as well, letting him run into you again (albeit under crude circumstances; he’ll take what he gets). In this proximity, he can hear the slight gasp that escapes you once you recognize his hold, feel your muscles tense, smell the flowery fragrance you still carry. The fragrance that takes his mind on a rewind routine; one he forces to a halt. He feels lewd for taking pleasure in that misfortune, but he can take pleasure in the present.

Entering the elevator, Jungkook has taken note of one thing: the roles have been reversed. On the downward voyage, it had been him avoiding you. Now, even with the closeness, you refuse to meet his eye. Something on the carpeted floor has your unrelenting attention. Letting his gaze dip to you, he bit back a smirk. Good to know you are as affected by him as he is by you.

“It’s a shoot.”

You relent, looking up to him. “Huh?”

“You asked me why I’m here, it’s a shoot. The site is close by, so we don’t waste time traveling. Once the shoot is done, we will get back home.”

“Ah, that makes sense.”

You beg your grey matter to find some topic of conversation to halt the blood rushing to your cheeks. The atmosphere is frozen again, but not like last time. Any unease earlier present has drifted. The tension that once kept you from closeness now keeps you from moving apart. His hand sits unmoved, continuing to rest on your hip. Jungkook can hear the loud thudding of a heartbeat, but he cannot discern whether they are from his heart or from yours.

Continuing after a pause, “I will be here for a few days now.” he adds, the suggestive hint of the words masked by his innocuous smile.

“Ah.” You lamely add. You ought to kick yourself - but at this closeness, you might hit him too.

The span of your separation is contracting, even though none of you move. Like the land underneath you is shifting, because even Mother Earth can’t handle the sexual tension in this confined space.

“Ma’am, Sir, you’re here!”

The booming voice of an employee disrupts the scene. You jump, wondering how you didn’t hear the door open, while Jungkook takes a graceful step back unscathed.

“Your rooms are ready, please follow me.”

The walk back is quiet, except for bashfully exchanged glances and racing pulses. When you finally reach your respective rooms, he speaks again.

“Want to accidentally cross paths with me at the bar?”

The heat reaches your ears. A moment of silence prompts you to look up, and you are held hostage by his eyes. His gaze flickers, intense and probing. Then, as if it never happened, his eyes narrow and his smile softens, harmless and easy. Again, this has to be witchcraft.

“Maybe we’ll let destiny decide. Hasn’t failed us so far.”

Now, alone in bed with nothing but your thoughts, you wonder when it will ever happen again.

Three days. Three days before it happens again.

Three days filled with conferences, a ton of files, and a lot of battery acid disguised as coffee. Apart from the success of your work, the highlight of your time is when Jake tried to fix his shoe heel at a meeting and ended up gluing his fingers together. In a quiet room filled with immersed employees, he had yelled, “Superglue, my ass!”.

The punctuation was not vocalized.

Tonight was your last night in Seoul. It was supposed to be a night to yourself, but an office party pulled you out of your cavern to get dressed. You put on an elegant dress, a black and silver number, only to find the ‘party’ was the most monotonous excuse of networking. High-end businessmen exchanging cards over non-alcoholic fizz was not your idea of a party, so you quickly excused yourself.

The coupon still weighed heavy in your purse, carrying memoirs of the last time you saw him. You had wanted to go earlier, but always held yourself back. What if he wasn’t there? What if you missed your chance? Why did you have to sashay away with a cool statement that night instead of clawing your way through the lust-filled air and settling things then and there?

You supposed a drink at the hotel bar on your last night couldn’t be a bad thing, even if Jungkook didn’t show up.

So here you are, sipping on your wine and trying to appear nonchalant as you look out the window overseeing the city’s skyline. One ear is trained to the door of the pub, the slightest peep from that corner alerting your antenna.

So far, no sign of him.

This won’t work, you tell yourself. Second time’s a charm, third time’s pushing it too far.

But as you wave the bartender to top up your drink, the corner of your eye catches movement; one, two, three heads appear through the door. Signature multichromatic mops of hair make their way in, forcing your pulse to marathon mode.

And then you hear it.

You hear his trademark cachinnate echoing through the structure. Multitudes of contrasting sentiments fill your gut. Are you sensing relief, that fate served its purpose without fail? Or is it the anticipation of how events will unfold? A sense of titillation, that a three-day old bond makes you feel more than year-old relationships you’ve had? You pry your eyes from that direction, trying to appear aloof when you are anything but.

When you think you’ve gathered your composure, you look up. Like a hare falling for its bait, you are trapped, because he is looking right back at you.

Jin and Jimin are laughing about something that happened on set today, but Jungkook only has eyes for you. He can’t believe his luck.

The past few days, his schedule had no give. After every shoot, the only thing he remembered was taking off his shoes and falling into a deep slumber.

So today when the shoot wrapped up earlier, Jungkook grabbed his trusty wingmen and open bar enthusiasts to utilize his coupon, and possibly test his kismet.

“Wasn’t she on our flight?” Jin observes, tracking Jungkook’s sight.

“Oh yeah! Dude, is she the one?” Jimin keenly notes. “How do you keep bumping into each other like this?”

Jungkook downs his whisky, the burn felt from the throat to his diaphragm. “I don’t know, hyung. I don’t know what to do.” Beckoning the bartender for a refill, he tears away from your sight.

“Okay, liquid fortification is all good but how about,” Jin stops briefly to pluck the coupon out of Jungkook’s hands, “we handle the drinks department while you attend to her?”

Jimin nods in assent. “The worst thing you could do is spend time with her slurring and garbling while she ditches your sorry ass.”

“Hey! I won’t do that. Just, ” Jungkook gulps, “I don’t know... We’ve met like, hardly a few times. It really doesn’t make sense. What if we’re not on the same page?”

Jimin frowns, and even Jin seems unhappy with his reasoning.

“Things don’t have to make sense. You’re two consenting adults. You like her. By the way she’s eyeing you right now, I’m sure the feeling is mutual. You said it’s easy to talk to her right?”

Jungkook pouts, but sees his point.

“Then go with that. Don’t chart out a plan, just go with your heart.” Jin adopts a soft smile of encouragement.

“Meanwhile we will grab the others and exploit this coupon to the full extent!” Jimin gleefully appends.

Jungkook’s eyes crinkle as he laughs with the other two. They are right. Carpe diem, right?

Finding you again, his breath hitches. You look beautiful. The sleek black dress with silver embellishments over the torso. It hugs you in the right places, accentuating your already alluring frame. Your shoulders bare, elegant collarbones waiting to be tasted. Hair tied up, exposing the delicious curve of your neck, a stretch Jungkook wants to pepper kisses onto, without missing a spot. You look exquisite against the backdrop of the night.

Carpe noctem it is.

“Did you really dress up to use the coupon?” The tongue-in-cheek query breaking your line of thought.

A breathy chuckle leaves your lips, hopefully masking the frenzy in your heart.

“I had a party. A very dull party. Figured I preferred my own company over that.”

“Do you prefer your own company over mine?”

He’s still standing, tall frame waiting for your permission to occupy the next seat. God, he looks amazing.

“Not at all.” The words leave huskier than you intend, but they convey the message.

He takes the seat, a mere step away, his cologne wafting over to your side. The alcohol buzz makes the scent feel stronger, every bone in you wanting to dive in nose-first.

Apparently you have been staring, because he nervously chuckles “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Should you go the modest route or fuck it?

Fuck it.

“You look... great today,” is all you get out. Stupid brain spewing half-baked goods.

Understatement of the year. He looks like sin incarnate. All black attire highlighting his golden skin, the dichotomy of his whole look has you understandably tongue-tied. Black jeans - no rips, sadly- with a dark grey high-neck t-shirt, tucked in of course, because pain is the only constant for you. A black trench coat is thrown on top to seal the look. The obsidian outfit sends desperate need through your body, an intense desire to rip it all off surging through you. Somehow, through all these layers you can sense his fit body, his rippled muscles, his sturdy pecs, like they have an aura of their own.

“Ah, thank you. You look amazing as well.” Halting a moment to sip his drink, he resumes. “Sucks that you dressed up for nothing.”

“Well, you liked it. So it's not for nothing.”

If looks were potent, Jungkook’s own could set you on fire. Gaze coolly raking over your figure, the tick in his jaw betrays his reaction. A chill passes through every part of your body under his intense scrutiny.

“Are there other things you would wear… if I liked it?” He carefully treads.

“There are certain things I’m wearing right now that I’m sure you would appreciate.”

If not for the shrinking distance between you two, you couldn’t have caught the low hiss. His animalistic need, usually kept well under control, is raging against its bonds, screaming to let go. Your exquisite gown, flowing down your curves, accentuating the swell of your ass - God save this dress from his feral hands. Against his will, he restrains himself. He would make this a lasting encounter.

“How many drinks have you had?” He needs you to remember every single moment.

“Two glasses of wine, don’t worry. You?”

“A shot of whisky, that’s all. Haven’t even finished my second drink.”

Gone were his cherubic appearance and dimpled smiles; the man in front of you is oozing pure sex appeal. His clenched jawline, furrowed brow, and perfectly placed tresses add to his raw masculinity. The cusp of your thighs is damp; if this is his effect here, what will it be behind locked doors? You wonder whether this is the same man that gushed about old-era video games in the flight.

“Well, if you are wearing them for me, I’d be a fool to miss them.” he brings you back to the present. Twinkling eyes match your eager ones as you give a small nod.

Every step you take shoots a thrilling tingle through your spine. Every inch of distance closed forces you to close the next with doubled speed. Every foot forward adds to the thick air, laced with hunger, desire, and an inordinate amount of trust placed in the hands of a stranger.

The first time you two walked back to the elevator, his move had caught you unaware.

Now, the arm wraps around your entire waist, body flush against his, yet you yearn to get closer.

Last time, you couldn’t match his gaze, skin burnt a crimson hue.

Now, your eyes are locked together, any movement in your surroundings be damned.

Michael Jackson rising from the dead and performing Thriller wouldn’t tear you away from your current view (sorry MJ, maybe next time).

When the doors close, he places a palm on your bare back, bringing you to his chest.

“I’ve wanted this so bad, ever since I met you. It’s insane.”

The hand caressing your back makes you sigh. “Not if I wanted the same.”

His grip tightens. “The things I want to do to you...” eyes searching yours, ”tell me you can handle it.”

“Oh baby,” you drawl, “I’ll do whatever you want. Whatever it is,” your lips hover on his, “I can take it.”

The elevator doors opened too soon for your liking, and Jungkook drags you through the corridor. You’re practically hanging on to him, feet barely responsive, the faint buzz of wine making you giddy. His hawkish gaze soaks in everything you do, memorizing every response to his touch.

You lean over to lay wet kisses on his neck. Pleasure searing through his veins, Jungkook’s knees almost buckle. He pushes you against a wall and locks you in with his form.

“Uh-uh-uh, honey,” he tsks, “you’re not making this easy on me?”

You pretend to ponder. “Well, I didn’t plan on making it easy.”

He smirks, all sex, and the wetness between your legs is making its presence known. Leaning into your ear, he whispers, “Unless you want me to have my way with you right here…” and all your brattiness dissipates.

Satisfied, he grins. “Your place or mine?”

“Hmmn, depends.”

He cocks a brow. “On?”

“Am I gonna be able to walk tomorrow?”

That damned smirk. “Your place it is.”

Jungkook’s lips are on yours the moment your door is locked. He cages you against its frame, teeth clashing and biting anything they find. You let your hands roam all over, searching for something to hold on to. A throaty sound leaves Jungkook when your digits card through his hair and tug on it, a sound you gladly swallow.

Time seems to have taken a break. Your thoughts are blank. You chase the kiss like it's the only thing you know, the only thing you’re born to do, your sole mission in life before you die. The bruising pace Jungkook set is eagerly matched by you. Gravity is slowly losing its meaning, and you’re nothing but a stray entity floating in space. And this kiss is your only source of air.

Jungkook pulls you towards him, closing the nonexistent distance between you. Heat rises from his chest, the feeling is hypnotic beyond reason. A taste of you has ruined every other flavor. He kept his eyes half-open, sneaking peeks at your flushed face whenever you come for air. His fingers explored your body, grabbing your ass and pulling you into him. Your clothed crevice jolts at the friction, hips hounding for more.

The moan that leaves you gets muted, because Jungkook takes this opportunity to take control. Tongue forcing its way in to explore every corner of your mouth, it melds with your own muscle. If this were a dance, it would be a fierce tango, oozing with sexual tension. Breathing is now trivial, this kiss is imperative.

Jungkook’s hands grab your hips and twirl you, both of you now facing a full-length mirror. You can witness your neckline being abused, mulberry blossoms left in place. The sight has your sex clenching, and lips liberated, you couldn’t stop yourself from mewling.

“Fuck, Y/N. I’m going to make you scream so loud, the hotel reception will hear you.”

With your head spinning in lust, you try to form your words right. “An- And what? Discuss how a second room for you was - oh god - was useless?”

Jungkook pauses to admire his craft; your neck, shoulders, and collar are now littered with bruises, like a garden of hyacinth at his disposal. The view is maddening, your lusty gaze locked on to him in the mirror. His mane is tousled, no doubt your handiwork, and his hand is tracing the outline of your dress.

“That cursed day,” He chokes out, “You were so fucking hard to resist you know?”

You turn back to face him, hand reaching back to undo your halter neck, “You have me now.” Stepping back, you let your gown fall.

He froze. You are standing in front of him, robed in only your black lace-embroidered strapless bra, and matching panties, each adorned with a white bow. The swell of your breasts barely caged in the cups, making Jungkook drool at sight. All the wind was knocked out of his lungs; you look like a prisoner’s last meal, waiting to be devoured.

“On your knees.” he commands.

Not a second is put to waste. You begin undressing him, unbuckling the pants and aggressively pulling them down. Next come the boxers, and you are faced with-

Wow.

You mean this in the nicest way, but, what a dick.

He is already hard, the mushroomed tip angry and red, leaking a drop of precum begging to be tasted. The girth exceeds your expectation, already visualizing the delicious visual of your cunt stretched thin. He is going to reach places even Vlad the Impaler couldn’t; you are already brimming with anticipation for the final act.

And his thighs. Nothing angelic about them. Taut. Muscular. Sinewy. Something uncivilized in you wants them to trap your frame between them, caging you, pinning you down. You press kisses on his inner thigh, letting your tongue poke out when you hear him exhale. A sharp bite shocks Jungkook, but you only smirk.

“Wanted to do that since I saw you.”

The stare that meets you is practically challenging you to try that again, and perhaps reap some delicious consequences.

You bring yourself back, giving his cock the full attention that it deserves. Looking up, you see his half-lidded eyes, assertive and arresting, compelling you to go on.

You bring your palm up to him. He raised a brow in question.

“Spit for me.”

Jungkook almost busts his load when he hears you. “Fuck, so dirty.” he garbles out. Rolling his neck in an attempt to divert his blood, he takes your hand and drops a thick glob at the center of your palm.

A throaty moan arises from you, and his dick is harder than ever.

“Go on baby, show me you can suck dick like a champ.”

You give him a confident look; you’re about to rock his world. Starting with small licks, you tease the slit and taste the pre-cum lodged in it. Meanwhile, you work the spit along the shaft; you spit on it again, the original amount insufficient to cover the length. You can feel his dick twitching against your attention, eager to be sheathed. Interspersing with some long drags on the underside, you zero in on the pinched skin under the head.

Jungkook is staring at your jerking him off. The sight of you, clad in lingerie is blowing his mind. If that was not enough, the mirror in front is providing a sumptuous secondary perspective. The smooth stretch of your back, the swell of your ass, the panty fabric barely able to cover the expanse, everything on you is making him short circuit. Seeing you on your knees, your deferential nature stirs something in him. If he doesn’t control himself, he will bend you in half and ride you to sunrise. He doesn’t want to scare you, but fuck, his depraved early man instincts are telling him otherwise.

“What are you- ohhh, holy shi-”

Instead of slipping his cock fully into your mouth, you hold it up, and pay careful attention to his balls. Jungkook’s hands come to rest on your head, a telltale sign of his unraveling. With a smile, you let your tongue swipe through every nook and corner till they are coated in saliva.

“You think you’re such a fucking tease, ” He grabs you by your now unraveled tresses and pulls you back, “Ease up baby, your throat is in for a treat.”

In one quick swoop, he lodges himself at the base of your throat, provoking your gag reflex, but you restrain the urge to pull back. Breathing through your nose, you suck and swallow whatever you can; his girth isn't giving you much to work with.

Jungkook growls. “Such a tight fit. Like you’re meant to be like this. Forever.”

The last word slips out unwittingly.

Alarmed, his eyes flit down to gauge your response, but all you are doing is looking back at him.

Fuck, your dovelike eyes are captivating. They look so angelic, a complete contrast to the perverse posture you are in. Not an ounce of displeasure in response to his words. Pure, unadulterated affection for him. Only for him.

“God, you’re going to be the death of me.” Jungkook husks. “You’ll do anything for me, you said?”

Muffled whimpers impart your compliance, and you bob your head up and down for good measure. The tip of his cock hits every ridge of your throat, the vibration releasing more fluid down.

“Pleasure yourself, baby. Touch yourself, but don’t you cum.”

Your brow distresses further, a disgruntled whine leaving you and reverberating around him. Already so turned on, the lightest friction would make you combust.

Jungkook’s teeth clench. “Edge yourself for me, sweetie.”

It's like your body is tuned to his command. Slipping two fingers under the band, you part and slide them on either side of your throbbing nub. Despite you avoiding any pressure point that might push you over the edge, the pleasure threatens to tip you over.

You look over for his approval. Swallowing, he nods. Your self-stimulation is making him dizzy. It's time to get serious.

“Such a good girl. Don’t stop, okay? I’m going to fuck your throat raw.” Starting with mellow jerks, “Hope you don’t have to speak anytime tomorrow.” he rasps.

The carpeted floor grazing your knees only adds to the revelry. You’re not in control of yourself anymore. The back of your gullet is aching as Jungkook shoves into you again and again. An amalgamation of his salty juices and your dribble lewdly coats your chin and neck; you must look ravished. Everything with Jungkook feels augmented; every single motion of his making your sex clench.

He is close - you can feel his grip on your hair tightening.

“Can I cum on you?” words slither through his clamped teeth. You frantically nod.

With a loud grunt, he pulls you off and releases all over your chest, a stray pump landing on your chin. Thick liquid, dripping from your jaw onto your collarbones and breasts, the whole scene is filthy good. Your unfilled cunt is aching to be replete with the cum.

Post-orgasmic glow is dazzling on him--hair drenched in sweat, tufts sticking to his forehead. His breathing is heavy and resonant as dilated pupils take in your soaked state. Bending down, he crooks a finger under your chin, anchoring his attention on your dewy stare. The onyx embers in his eyes bore into yours, studying for any hesitation in them. A microscopic moment of tenderness, unspoken words exchange between you.

Satisfied to find only searing hunger, his digits collect the beads of cum on your jaw, pushing them back into your mouth. Your eyes roll skyward, relishing the briny taste, nearly asking him to do it again. Leaning further, he grabs the wrist of your hand that is thoughtlessly rubbing your sex - you didn’t even realize you were still doing it. You feel drained, like you orgasmed vicariously through him.

“My turn.” He wears a devilish expression on his archangel eyes.

Lips connect once again as he pulls you up. If he tastes himself, he is relishing it, with his tongue exploring the deep cavern. With wobbly ankles, you let him guide you to your bed, dropping on your back. He follows you, pouncing on you, plunging into your mouth again like a beast hungered. Bodies melting together like an icicle under the summer blaze, your hands hunt to frisk his skin. Realizing he is yet to undress, you yank at this t-shirt, attempting to liberate him from the offending fabric.

“Tsk, greedy.” he bit your ear, soothing the sting with a kiss.

“Cruel is what it is.” You huff, like everything he’s doing is not a blissful affair.

How do men do that? Violently ripping their shirt off and leaving a messy mop of hair in its wake, nevertheless looking like they could walk a runway the next instant. Jungkook was no exception. The moment he pulls his shirt off, you are rendered speechless.

Chiseled chest like the work of an artisan. Droplets of sweat race down the paths traced by the sculpted abs, an intense desire to taste them forming in you. He is a mesomorphic dream who puts Greek gods to shame. Swallowing, you let your hand trace the outline of his pecks, feeling him shudder against your touch.

“Jungkook, please.”

Who was he to deny you?

Leaning up to you with a wicked smirk, Jungkook drops a thick line of spit right on your hardened nipple. The concoction of his cum and spit soaks through the lacy material. A lone finger circles, avoiding the spot that requires the most attention. You arch your back, begging him for more, just more of anything. The wet fabric amplifies the emptiness in your cunt.

“Aww,” he coos, clearly amused by your neediness, “undo this for me, sweetness. Let me see you.”

Moving at lightning speed, you unhook the bra, swinging it away to a corner of the room.

“Oh no.” He mock-frowns, veins bulging on his arm as he controls himself. “Look at these tits, fuck.” Mind reeling with ideas, filthy ideas, of all the things he wants to do to you. “You’ve ruined everything else for me.”

You tremble. “Good, so have you. Want you for myself. Want you,” pulling him close, “to do your worst.” you end with a whisper.

Jungkook’s jaw tightens. “Careful what you ask for,” he grits before diving headfirst into your bosom.

He licks and laves and bites and laps--your breasts are on fire. Continuing his marking spree, new blemishes make an appearance on your torso. Nibbling on one nipple, he pinches the other; pulling moan after moan from you.

Your hips barely touch the bed, bucking up in response to Jungkook’s sinking teeth into your ample bust. He has decided to not leave an inch without his saliva, and like a man on a mission, covers every part with rapt attention.

“Yo- You don’t have to--oh holy fuck--you don’t have to, cover me in marks you kno--ohh my go-” The sentence is spastic, piercing mewls breaking your flow of speech and thought.

“These fucking tits,” roughly clasping your pert breast in his large palm, “they look so much better like this.” The proud smile he shows has not the slightest hint of regret.

Catching a break, he twiddles your nipples, letting his other hand sit on your covered sex. He is teasing you; you recognize that. Just giving you opportunities to disobey, to take all the pain he has to offer.

It’s a good thing you like the pain.

You slowly roll your hips, trying to grind against his palm, taking whatever help you can get.

A sharp smack lands on your clit, shooting your eyes open - you don’t even know when they closed. Jungkook’s hand is soothing the site of the blow, the pain converting to pleasure under his touch.

“Patience, sweetness,” the gravely whisper sending tingles down your spine, “such a good girl for me.”

You give him a slight nod - he smacks you again, once, twice, thrice, without a break. Your entrance is smarting, but you want to give him everything. Biting your lips to stop the labored moans escaping, you clench your eyes and savor the burn.

Your show of obedience has Jungkook’s heart thronging. Fuck, he was enjoying toying with you. Playing you like a fiddle. You produce every tone he desires in the form of wanton melodies, he wants to play them over and over again like his favorite song.

“How are we doing?” he asks, a shit-eating grin plastered on him. Before you could answer, his fingers shallowly enter your soaked pussy, still hampered by the cloth.

“You- fuck, you said I was the tease here?” Your hands are at his wrist, begging to pull the scrap of cloth aside and have his way.

He comes to face your sopping mound, pausing only to speak “Never said I wasn’t,” and starts pressing soft, feathery kisses. “That day, seeing you dripping in that towel, I dreamt of having these legs around me.”

“I swear, at least take it off - oh Jungkoo-”

Without warning, he kneads your ass and pushes you into his face.

You feel like you’ve been on the edge for hours. The suckle on your engorged clit along with the abrasion of the lace gets you so close. So damn close. So, so clo-

The tightness in your belly finally snaps and you howl, gushing your vat of arousal onto his face. The high was more intense than you had imagined, so high that you wonder if you will ever find your way back to reality. You feel like a rock in space, aimlessly floating in the vast nothingness.

You dimly notice Jungkook toying with the lacy hem of your panties, pulling it back to snap it against your hip. The sting is soon forgotten, along with your panties flung across the bed, as he parks himself back between your legs.

“You smell incredible.” He approves, taking a long whiff of your honeyed center. “Look at you, so messy.” He licks a long stripe along your crease. “Messy girl, I should clean you up.”

“Wait Jungkook-” you oppose, lids heaving in pleasure. “I need you inside me, please. I can’t take -oof”

Gnawing at your sodden folds, he let his nose press against your clit. “You’re so fucking tight, you think you can take me?” He shakes his head. “Gotta stretch you out, gotta make me fit.” He presses his tongue against your nub, feeling it throb in anticipation. “And I think you can give me one more.” He ends, before invading your drenched channel with two fingers. You are putting up with his torments the best you can; walls fluttering against his lips, legs entwined behind Jungkook’s back trapping him between your thighs.

“Ah! God - I, I can’t-” Your eyes are screwed shut, hands bunching the sheets in your grasp.

His fingers fluctuate between scissoring motions, their lengths opening you up for him and curling inside, fingertips finding the rough patch inside. He adds a third finger, pussy straining to accommodate them all. Your thighs clench in the burn, and he groans into your pussy at the pressure. Increasing the pace, he pumps into you harder and faster, sucking your puffy lips in tandem.

“Please, please, harder - let me cum - please oh go-”

“Fuck yeah baby, your pussy is just sucking me in. You like that? You like me shoving into your cunt?”

“Uungh yes yes I love it!”

“Doesn’t it hurt? Or are you such a slut for pain? Tell me, tell me you’re a pain slut.”

“Fuck, Jungkook, don’t you stop- I am! I am a pain slut! Your pain slut!”

“Goood girrrll,” he husks out. Even though he is taking charge, your words are what control him. “Only mine. My pain slut will come for me now.”

A spray of cum ejects out of you, coating Jungkook’s chest and inundating your legs. The coherent part in you recognizes that you just squirted, but the neanderthal side shuts all recognition of anything that is not Jungkook’s cock. Even after two climaxes, you are hungry to get more. More of him.

If you don’t fuck him now, you will lose your capability to reason.

Limbs still heavy and reeling from the ravaging, you pick your pieces and drag Jungkook to the headboard.

“I’m going to ride you.” you declare and straddle him.

Jungkook is staring fixedly at your still-leaking cunt. Running his tongue over his lower lip, and licking the remnant syrup of your release. You position yourself, letting the drippage fall directly on his erection. He twitches, eyes still feasting on the mess you are making.

Finding purchase on his shoulders, you lower yourself. Jungkook’s breath staggers as you drag your inner lips along his hard shaft. You repeat this motion till your fluids drip to his balls.

“Y/N, I swear to God, if you don’t stop with this-”

“You’ll do what?” you challenge, an eyebrow raised in response to his threat.

He grabs you by your waist, jerking you up before bringing you down on his dick. Your cunt, creamy from his earlier ministrations, gives no resistance to his hardness. His cock twitches inside as you bottom out. Pulling you closer, he bites your lip and tugs at it.

“I’ll do this.”

A sharp spank makes you clench around him, the supple flesh of your ass ricocheting in response.

“Go on baby, ride me.”

The low-grained command sets you in motion. Slowly gyrating your hips, you feel every ridge of this length inside. Jungkook’s grip on your waist tightens, and you’re sure you will see evidence of it tomorrow. Your grasp on his shoulders isn’t faring any better.

“You’re so tight, fuck, and so wet. Who made you like this, huh?” A second spank punctuating his question.

“Oh God, you-”, you barely manage to recognize your own voice, “You, Jungkook! Only you!”

“That’s fucking right, only me.”

Hips snapping, he meets you halfway. Both of you are lost in each other, lewd sounds of your skin slapping and juices quelching barely muffled by your desperate whines and moans of passion. Eyes locked in like magnets, neither of you could look away.

Jungkook pulls back a little, slapping your jiggling tit. Your sex clenches, and the following slap has you lodging yourself in the crook of his neck, searching for a reprieve.

“Want some help?”

One swift move and you are on your stomach, face pushed into a pillow, and ass out. A final spank lands right in the middle, and you can feel it pulsate everywhere. He pushes back into your glistening core, taking control of your pleasure and pain. One hand carding through the nape of your neck, pushing you down, the other hand grabbing your waist and setting the pace. The new angle hits deeper, you feel so full.

“Jungkoo--unghh I need to cum! Need to- umph- cum so bad!” You are wailing at this point, shame lying somewhere near your flung clothes.

“Fuck, babe, me too. Go ahead and play with yourself, nice and slow.”

It takes a few swipes for the tightness in you to detonate. Tears flood your face as you unravel, your orgasm crashing into you like waves of a tsunami. You clench tight, wetness flows out of your hole as Jungkook pumps in and out, chasing his high.

He comes undone soon after, ropes of his ejaculate filling your insides. He stays in, plugging you as if to not allow any of it out. But as his member softens, he gives in, turning you on your back to meet his face.

Butterfly-soft kisses are exchanged after the blazing encounter. He asks you if you’re okay between breaths, a tender murmur you almost miss, as if you weren’t screaming your lungs out moments ago. Nuzzling into his neck, you confirm.

A snort disrupts the silence. Looking up, you see Jungkook chuckling.

In response to your cocked eyebrow, he says “Want to talk about what a freak you are?”

“Want to talk about what a hypocrite you are?”

“Hey, you asked me to spit on you!”

You mock-gasp, hand on chest for the extra effect. “My breasts need medical attention after your attention! Freak!”

Laughter echoes in the room as you two tumble in the blankets, and you feel his release seeping out of you. Turning to him, you pout, “Your mess is leaking out of me.”

Jungkook gets up to leave the bed, and you expect a wet towel coming your way.

What you don’t expect is him parting your legs, gunmetal eyes following the rivulets escaping your abused hole.

“Your cunt smells so good with my cum on it,” he purrs.

He gathers the escaping thick liquid and pushes it back into your quivering core.

Jolting with oversensitivity, you try to stall him but he is fingering you with a vengeance. The ache and soreness soon dispel, bringing forth a new wave of ecstasy. His unrelenting stare concentrates on the mix of fluids on his fingers. With a few strokes on your sensitive bundle of nerves and fingers stuffed inside, you come again, legs shivering and pussy overflowing, his juices intermingled with yours.

You are dazed; you’ve lost track of everything. The room is spinning in front of you and your body feels like lead. All you can manage is to arch your neck, and plead, “No more, you freak.”

Jungkook giggles, eyes crinkling in good humor. Ah, the duality of this man is a force to reckon with. You can’t believe this is the same man that fucked you into your bed like a primordial beast. There’s no way you can move anytime soon.

After a clean-up interval, you are wrapped in each other's arms, melting into the embrace. His musky fragrance putting you at ease, you tuck your in the nook of his neck, basking in the aroma. Hands pressed against his broad chest, exuding warmth for you. His hand cradles your head, snuggling in closer till there is no space to cover. Sweet nothings whispered into each other’s lips, tender kisses exchanged in place of the scorching ones that had passed. You drift in and out of your slumber, fearing the sun would ascend too soon and break you apart.

A dim glow from the other end of the bed wakes you up. On turning you find Jungkook, dressed in his now-wrinkled clothes, seated on the edge. His gaze, pensive. You lay a hand on his thigh.

“Oh, did the light wake you?”

The alarm on his face makes you smile. “No, your absence did.”

The corners of his mouth turned up, eyeing you with softness.

“I have an early schedule. I didn’t want to wake you, but, ” he lets his palm rest on yours, “I also didn’t want to leave without it.”

Neither of you know how to walk away from this. The silence is deafening, unuttered sentiments hanging in the still air. Jungkook’s chest is heavy.

This is insane. He wants to lay you against a bed of flowers, treat you like the delicate petal you bear resemblance to, worship your body till the sun succumbs to your blazing passion. How is he to explain that his heart is beating through his chest for someone he knows for mere days? He rifles through his memories for a similar instance.

He finds none.

Maybe you don’t feel the same way. Maybe, you are blissfully unaware of the tumultuous emotions lurching in the pit of his belly. He can’t assume you will echo his lovesick needs, but he can’t let go.

You inch closer.

Fervid feelings die hard. He probes your eyes searching for an intensity matching his.

You let your lips convey the answer.

Passionate as ever, you draw him into the kiss. His lashes flutter against your rosy cheeks. At the moment, there is no dominance in him. Almost like his tongue, dragging across your swollen lips, is healing the brutality of last night. If you pull back, he comes after you; an incessant tug of war no player wants to win.

“Please Jungkook,” you choke between kisses, “Please tell me this isn’t the last of us.”

He is hovering on top of you, the galaxy in his eyes twinkling at your words.

“Please, I don’t want this to end.” You continue against his lips. Head versus heart, you fought a losing battle; how were you to stall the inevitable? Fueled, you plunge your tongue into him, determined to make your ardor known. The void of ferocity is filled with slow sensuality; like he is the sole reservoir to quench your thirst.

“Y/N”, he breathes out, “I feel like I know everything about you and nothing about you at the same time.” Resting your foreheads against one another, he continues. “I’m not about to let fate decide when we cross paths again.”

A grin finds your lips. “Destiny really pulled its weight here, didn’t it?”

He wordlessly nods, not wanting to break the tranquility in place. However, it is short-lived; his phone’s ringer makes sure of it.

“Yeah, I’ll be right down.” Something the speaker says turns Jungkook scarlet red. “I said I’ll be right there!” he yells before ending the call.

“The members are asking why I wasn’t in my room.” he clarifies, waggling his brows. You join his laughter, happy to have just the simple moment with him.

After exchanging numbers (and a photo for keepsake), Jungkook presses one last kiss, lips promising to find each other again. Somehow, you don’t say goodbye. You just stare at his disappearing body, confident that the next encounter is not far.

Jake is babbling about his night, how he managed to ditch the god-awful party and hang out with some overenthusiastic college-goers who paid for his drinks with their trust fund dough. This is usually the time you ask him if he’s proud of mooching off of children, but today his exaggerated narrative is cracking you up.

His forehead creases. “What’s up with you today? You haven’t vowed to skin me alive even once.”

“You like it when I threaten bodily harm?”

“I’m kinky like that.”

You just shrug. Erotic images make a fleeting appearance in your mind, but they are interrupted by your flight announcement.

“Aren’t you glad this is over? You can go back to overworking yourself in your office instead of a hotel!” Jake remarks, throwing his bag over his shoulder. “At least your back won’t break in the travel.”

Thinking over your experience in the city, you confess “Actually, I look forward to returning here.”

A thought slips in, curving your mouth into a smile. You quietly add,

“And yeah, my back was broken all right.”

Thank you for making it to the end! Please do let me know what you think!

2K notes · View notes

imtooscaredforthis · 3 years

Note

Talking to the moon, but with frank and his girl if possible ^^

If it doesn’t inspire anything please ignore me your writing is best.

Also the one that got away was what inspired the frank request if you ever wanna expand on it this is the inspiration for it. Thank you have a good day 💙

Of course!!! Trust me, you have no idea what you’ve awakened in me because lovestruck Frank is my favorite thing in the world omgsgsghshs

And for your second request, I’m already expanding on it with a new Legion Frank fanfic that’s coming out so, I think I’m just going to do the first one as a warm up/preview kinda thing

Talking To The Moon

Frank tossed and turned on the mattress, trying to get some sort of sleep in this damn place. The Entity had been pleased with his performance lately, granting him some much deserved time off. While it was nice to get some rest, he started growing antsy and bored.

When that happened, his mind started to wander, and when his mind started to wander, he would think about you. Now, it’s been years since he last saw you, since he last heard your voice, but when he thinks about you, you’re always fresh in his mind. So he usually does his best to keep you in the very the very back of his head, and it usually works.

But it didn’t now. And he was stuck staring at the ceiling, thinking about you. He could even imagine you right now, standing in the doorway and smiling at him.

“Can’t sleep?” You would whisper to him, visiting him like you always did when you were in your shared homes.

While Frank wanted to scream at himself to wake up, that you aren’t real, that you aren’t here, that you abandoned him and are gone. He didn’t. He let him live in his reminiscent fantasy.

And he let you walk over to the mattress, and sit down on it, patting your lap, motioning for him to rest his head on it. “Here.”

“You’re not my Mom and I’m not five.” He would protest, like he always did.

You shook your head at him, rolling your eyes. “Quit being a brat and come here. I know you like when I do this.”

He glared at you, crawling over to you, and resting his head on your lap. You ran your fingers through his hair, playing with some strands softly, moving your hand just the way he liked. Frank even grew sleepy as he thought of it now, his eyelids growing heavy and fluttering slightly.

But he managed to make himself snap out of it, swearing under his breath and sitting up on the mattress. He ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head. “Get a hold of yourself, Frank, she’s not here. She’s gone. She left you and she’s never coming back.”

His voice cracked with that last part, and he swallowed the lump in his throat. Those words always did manage to break him, and he still couldn’t help stop himself for what he did next.

Getting to his feet, he slipped on his jacket, walking out to the balcony outside. He pulled out a carton, popping a cigarette from it, and lighting it. Back in Ormond, (the real Ormond) during the long nights when he couldn’t sleep, he would smoke, stare at the moon and starry night sky and wonder about you.

Now, people would think he’s being irrational and crazy, still pining over some girl he lost years ago, but if only they saw the things you did to him. You were so good. You made him a good person, and you stopped the constant rage and wars that went on in his head. You made him into something else.

He never showed these feelings to anyone else though, not even to The Legion. Of course, he was their leader, so he couldn’t be vulnerable around them. He had to be strong, and decisive. Not weak and emotional.

But you made him weak and all soft inside. You were his weakness, and he couldn’t help but think about you.

“I wonder where you are now. If you’re a doctor and went to some super rich school in America like you always wanted to. I bet you did. I mean, you’re perfect, after all. It’s what you deserve.” He mumbled out loud, watching as the snow fell around him.

And he knew it was true. You deserved your happy ending, because you were good. But Frank wasn’t. He was a bad seed and he deserved a place like this, an inescapable hell to pay for his sins and to harm others. He was fine with it, as long as you weren’t here, as long as you were somewhere far away from him, he was fine.

“I wonder what you look like. Did you get prettier? Nah, I don’t think that’s possible. Or happier? Did your lips get softer? Oh, did your tits get bigger?” He laughed to himself, knowing that comment definitely would’ve earned himself a slap from you.

“Do you think about me like this too? And talk to yourself like the crazy idiot I am?” He wondered. “No, you probably don’t. You’re probably married to some handsome billionaire who’s perfect. You probably forgot all about me. I hope you did. I wish I could just forget. But I can’t.”

“Fuck, I miss you so much, (y/n). I wish all of this would just go away. I wish I could just stop. I still love you. With all of my heart. God damn it.” He muttered, grabbing his face, and feeling the tears start to well up in his eyes.

If only he knew how close you truly were to him.

#dead by deadlight #dbd #dbd x reader #dbd legion #legion dbd #dbd killer #frank morrison #legion frank #frank morrison x reader #dbd frank #legion x reader #killer x reader #killer x you

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unbridgeabledistances · 3 years

Note

ian + mickeys neck (was thinking of the drunk ian fic and wondered if you would be interested in pursuing this idea further?) <3

anon i am CRYING thank u so much for this!!!! i have been feeling like i need to make my contribution to the “mickey’s neck” discourse for a while lmao and this is my opportunity (esp bc ian holding mickey in the 11x12 stills wrecked me)

in the spirit of following up 11x10 i decided to write this based on an amazing post @mickey-millagher made/a prompt that @pombby sent me about ian teaching mickey to swim at a public pool during lockdown at some point early s11- i hope u enjoy<3

(this is the tiniest notch steamier than what i usually write but it isn’t smutty fyi- tw for descriptions of choking😌)

There was no one at the park— the air hung heavy and humid over the empty picnic tables and wooden benches that punctuated the fields of dying grass. As much as people on the Southside were definitely not taking any part of this lockdown shit seriously, it didn’t surprise Ian how silent the public park was— there was still a scarcer number of people out on their stoops or lounging on street corners this summer. Ian guessed that the few people who didn’t think that this was a hoax realized that this COVID shit was serious enough that they couldn’t afford healthcare if they got it, or whatever— but regardless, that meant that this Southside summer was weirdly stagnant somehow, and felt different from the noisy and crowded rhythms of summers past.

It was the late morning, just as the air started heat like a convection oven as the sun rose over the skyline— and Ian had his heart set on teaching Mickey to swim today. The conversation had come up last night at dinnertime, when Debbie was complaining about the heat wave— and they had all started reminiscing about the rickety, tin-sided pool they used to put up in the backyard years ago until Carl had taken a hatchet to it when he was 11 when he was trying to tear it down. Sitting next to Mickey at the kitchen table, thighs pressed where their chairs were scooted close together, Ian had suddenly remembered his words from their road trip to the border, years ago now:

“You could try swimming across the border.”

“I never learned how, man.”

And he’d immediately opened his mouth, not catching the words before they moved from his brain to his mouth, and asked Mickey in the middle of the dinnertime chatter: “Hey Mick, did you ever actually learn to swim?”

It was funny, and arbitrary, and stupid; they were married now, but for some reason this small fact about Mickey, the fact that he used to not know how to swim and by now he might have learned without Ian’s knowledge, made something warm pool in Ian’s stomach. He’d known Mickey, and had been itching to be closer and closer to him, for a full decade—and there were still so many things that he didn’t know. And this was proof, this question that Ian still didn’t have the answer to about some weirdly fundamental aspect of Mickey’s identity— he was always going to want to keep asking things about Mickey. And he was always going to get to.

Mickey had looked him with daggers in his eyes, then flickered a defensive glance at all the smirks growing on Ian’s siblings’ faces. “Fuck you. I was doing plenty of other shit in Mexico, didn’t really get the chance to lounge on the fucking beach.”

Ian had reached under the table and placed a hand on Mickey’s knee—a peace offering, an apology for whatever Mickey-can’t-swim quips Carl and Lip would inevitably think up as a low blow the next time they all butted heads at breakfast time— but as the chatter about backyard pools and heat waves continued at the dinner table, Ian felt an idea stirring.

Which is why the next morning he’d woken his husband up by pressing a tender kiss to his jawbone, both of their skin damp and clammy from the heat in the stuffy bedroom, and whispered into his neck:

“I wanna try something today.”

Mickey’s mind had immediately veered in… other directions, his eyebrows raising in vaguely disappointed disbelief when Ian had explained his idea to go to the public pool and teach Mickey to swim with an exuberant grin on his face; but after some very enticing morning persuasion that had a lot to do with the fact that Mickey was still half asleep while Ian had pressed kisses down his spine and dragged him out of bed and handed him a pair of swim trunks, now they were at the public pool in the nearest park at midday, with Ian leading the way and Mickey dubiously and sleepily straggling behind him.

Ian slid open the lock on the chain-link fence that surrounded the pool, the same pool that was usually crawling with groups of teenagers smoking weed and toddlers in floaties who were sticky with melted ice cream on a summer day like today. And maybe he was just all hopped up on nostalgia, but Ian was feeling cheerful— there was a lightness to the blinding summer sunshine, radiating through him as it pooled on his skin, that made him feel weirdly exhilarated and giddy about teaching Mickey to swim in this grimy Southside pool, just because he could.

“I still can’t believe you never learned how to swim.” Ian said it over his shoulder as he strode through the gate, holding it open for Mickey.

Mickey just flipped him off, following behind him and setting down two towels and the 6-pack of beers he’d grabbed from the fridge as they’d shuffled out the door minutes before. Ian grinned. He knew the beers would be warm and syrupy in minutes—the air was muggy and humid, without any hint of a breeze for relief. Ian could already feel the sweat dripping down the back of his t-shirt; he peeled it off as he walked over the sunwarmed concrete towards the pool’s edge, crumpling the shirt and throwing it on top of the pile with the beers and the towels. Mickey was hesitant, not following Ian to the border of the water just yet.

“Seriously. I can’t count the number of times I was shoved into our bacteria-infested backyard pool when I was a kid. I’m pretty sure that Frank tried to drown me in there at one point.”

Mickey just shrugged noncommittally, his fingers slack around the bottom hem of his shirt and his eyes zeroing in on the pool of water. Ian thought Mickey would say something in reply— but the only sound in the air was the faint shouting of kids playing a basketball game the street over.

Holy shit. Ian had been so buoyant and excited about his nostalgia-fueled idea of going to the public pool on a summer day and teaching his husband to swim, dragging Mickey out of the house without a second thought, that he hadn’t realized it until now— Mickey was scared.

Ian swallowed down the grin that was threatening to overtake his face— one he knew that Mickey would immediately notice and hate, because he it drove him crazy when people gave him shit in vulnerable moments like this, when Mickey couldn’t do something. So instead Ian kept talking, hoping his chatter would loosen some of Mickey’s nerves.

“Didn’t you and your brothers ever go down to the other pool over on Trumbull?”

Mickey met Ian’s eyes then, raising an annoyed eyebrow. “Clearly not.”

And, okay. This was understandably bringing up some childhood shit. Ian tried to snap Mickey out of his head— he strode over to where Mickey was standing, a good six feet from the poolside, and snaked a hand onto the back of his neck, squeezing gently in what he hoped was a grounding and comforting touch that would drain the trepidation from Mickey’s defensive stance.

“One summer Debbie was so afraid of getting drowned at the public pool that she learned how to hold her breath for 4 minutes.” Ian grinned at the memory of Debbie dunking her head in a tub of water in the kitchen, making him and Lip time her. “Honestly, it was probably for the best you never went to the public pool. It was a shit show.”

Mickey scoffed, but the lightness was back in his eyes. “If I knew how to swim back in the day I probably woulda been the one doing the drowning.”

Ian barked out a laugh— and why did he immediately turn back into his 15-year-old self, with a god-awful crush on Mickey Milkovich, whenever Mick said shit like that? He pressed his lips into a smile, squeezing Mickey’s shoulder once more for good measure.

“Yeah, yeah. Okay, king of the Southside. You ready to get in the water?” Ian’s hand trailed down from its grasp on Mickey’s shoulderblades, dropping to encircle Mickey’s wrist and guide him towards the water.

Mickey immediately recoiled, yanking his hand from Ian’s hold and taking a step back, squinting and holding up a hand to block the bright rays of sun out of his eyes now that he wasn’t standing in Ian’s shadow.

“Fuck d’you mean? I’m not just gonna fucking hop in there and drown. You gotta show me what to do.”

Ian grinned again, without being able to hold it back. He knew what Mickey was like when he was afraid of something— defensive and grumbly and avoidant to touch. He rolled his eyes. “Can’t really teach you to swim when we’re not in the water, Mick. C’mon.”

Ian walked over to sit on the edge, then slid his torso down into the pool. The water was lukewarm and tepid, barely providing any relief from the sticky air— but it felt nice. Ian let out a little breath of relief from the heat as he waded over to the shallow end. Mickey was still standing by the mound of the towels the ground, watching him warily. Ian raised his eyebrows.

“You coming?”

Rolling his eyes, Mickey aggravatedly pulled off his shirt, tossing it behind him— sunrays bounced off of Mickey’s pale skin, owing mostly to the fact that Mickey had barely left the house in the last few weeks because of their prolonged “honeymoon.” He slowly walked to the very edge of the pool and, in a movement that made Ian’s heart grow ten sizes, hesitantly dipped a toe into the water like a cat trying to paw at something. A corner of Mickey’s mouth flickered downwards almost imperceptibly, a worry line sprouting on his forehead.

“I don’t know, man.”

Ian breathed out a laugh. Leave it to Mickey Milkovich, shit-talking king of the Southside, to be afraid of the shallow end of a public pool. Ian reached out a hand in what he hoped was a comforting gesture, still smiling like a sappy motherfucker at his painfully endearing husband.

“C’mon Mick, just stand here with me first.” Ian was waist-deep in the shallow end, the water pressing against his upper thighs— he knew that at this height the water would be at Mickey’s waist, right where his swim trunks met his hipbones.

Mickey’s brows furrowed from where he was still perched on the concrete lip of the pool ledge, his two feet firmly rooted. “Explain what I gotta do first. To swim, or whatever.”

Ian blew out a breath, still grinning like an idiot. “It’s not that hard, Mick. You just gotta circle your arms and circle your legs. But you have to get in the water first.”

Ian treaded over, pushing through the water to where he could rest his upper arms on the edge of the pool beside where Mickey was standing, staring up at him with what he hoped was a convincingly pleading face. Mickey’s eyes were still fixated on the water, lapping at the pool’s edge from where Ian had rippled through it. And suddenly Ian had an idea.

With a teasing grin, he reached a wet hand out from the water and encircled it around Mickey’s ankle, splattering the concrete with drops of water. Mickey immediately jerked like an electric shock had jolted through his body.

“You gonna come in, or do I have to make you?”

Mickey tried to shake his ankle out of Ian’s grasp, but Ian had hold of him with an iron fist. Mickey leaned over and tried to swat at Ian’s arm without losing his balance on the pool’s edge.

“Cut that shit out right now, Gallagher.”

Ian just grinned, squeezing Mickey’s ankle like he was about to tug him in. “Come on, Mick.”

Mickey’s eyes widened and, just as Ian had imagined he would— he started to freak the fuck out.

“Ian stop that shit right now, I swear to god I will fucking murder you if you—”

They were at the 6-foot marker in the pool, right where it was deep enough for Mickey to stand on the very tips of his toes; and with this knowledge, Ian tugged at Mickey’s calf— causing him to falter, his arms circling like a cartoon character before he lost his balance and crashed into the water on his side.

Ian immediately placed his hands on Mickey’s hips, standing him upright before his head even fell under the water— but Mickey was still sputtering and splashing, like the drama queen that he was. Once Mickey regained his composure and realized he was easily standing on the bottom of the pool, his head bobbing just above the water, he swiftly splashed healthy burst of water into Ian’s face, the chlorine stinging his eyes and nose.

“Fuck you, Gallagher!”

Ian coughed at the water that had shot up his nose, but immediately splashed Mickey back—and then, because there wasn’t any way this whole pool situation was going to go anyways, he and Mickey were immediately engaged in a life-and-death splash battle, circling each other in the middle section of the pool.

Ian was laughing so hard he felt a stitch in his side— and Mickey was finally grinning again, water dripping down his cheeks and clinging to his hair. After a few minutes Ian threw his hands in the air in surrender, the water cresting at his shoulders.

“Truce!”

Mickey splashed one more surge of water at Ian’s chest for good measure, grinning like a kid in a candy store— then he took a step closer to Ian, eyebrows raised.

“Truce.”

Ian beamed down at him, pressing a quick peck to the top of his damp hair. “Sorry for throwing you in the pool.”

Mickey rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah.”

“But in my defense, it had to happen eventually.”

Mickey shoved him squarely in the chest, taking a step back. “You ruined the fucking truce.”

Ian gave a smug smirk. “Do you wanna learn how to swim, or not?”

Mickey flicked another burst of water at him, just enough to cast a slew of droplets onto Ian’s cheeks. “Alright. Get coaching, Michael Phelps.”

Ian hadn’t really considered how he was actually going to teach Mickey to swim— but it couldn’t be that hard, right? He tried to think back to when Lip had taught him how to tread water, on an equally as sweltering day in the backyard pool, when the yard was packed with lawn chairs and drunk neighbors and smelled of ashy barbeque smoke.

“Okay. So you’ve gotta move your arms in circles, kinda, to stay floating. And your legs too.”

Ian swam over to the deeper end of the pool, just an arm’s length away from where he and Mickey’s feet could touch, and tried to demonstrate how to tread water. “I feel like the easiest way for you to learn is just by doing it. C’mere.”

Mickey looked at him reluctantly, brows furrowed again in an outward display of his bundled nerves. “No fucking way.”

Ian sighed in exasperation. “C’mon, Mick. I’ve got you. I’m not gonna let you drown, you can hold on to me the whole time.”

Mickey raised an eyebrow— but then hesitantly took a step towards Ian, the water reaching up to the bottom of his chin.

“Alright, good. Now step where you can’t reach and try to tread water like I did.”

Mickey stepped forward again, then started to circle his arms under the water— and he was doing great, for a second, before he seemed to get too in his head about the mechanics and started to grit his teeth.

“Little help here, Gallagher?”

Ian grinned and stepped forward. “Here, you can hang onto me.” He stood where Mickey could reach and grab onto his shoulders if he needed to— but Mickey seemed to regain his confidence, and was starting to steadily, if a little bit clumsily, tread water.

He kept it up for a while, until Ian could see that he was overexerting himself— waving his arms under the water with a little too much gusto, brows furrowed and his teeth digging into his lower lip in concentration.

“Mick, you’ve got it. Chill out for a sec.”

Ian reached an arm out, a branch for Mickey to grab on to— because he had been joking before, yes, but he really didn’t want Mickey to fucking drown— and when Mickey grasped onto it, Ian pulled Mickey towards him in the water, kicking backwards so they were suspended in the deeper end of the pool with Mickey clinging to Ian’s neck.

Mickey looked nervous as Ian veered them towards deeper waters, his eyes darting from side to side where they were floating, his fingers digging into the back of Ian’s neck— and Ian smirked at how freaked out he seemed, standing only a few feet from where they could both confidently stand on the tiled pool bottom. But Mickey didn’t resist, or try to propel himself back into the shallower waters— he let himself cling on to Ian, fingers interlaced behind the tops of Ian’s shoulders, as he kept them afloat. Ian laughed softly in a warm, wet gust across Mickey’s cheek. “You okay?”

He could feel the heat radiating off of Mickey’s body, squeezing up close against him— and Ian couldn’t help it, the wave of fondness that came over him as he looked down at where Mickey was pressed against his chest; trusting Ian to keep them above the water, trusting Ian enough to go along with his stupid plan to teach him to swim in a public pool on a random morning just because Ian wanted to. Ian couldn’t help but feel warmth in his stomach at this simple moment, at the two of them bobbing in the pool— at teaching his husband to swim, something Mickey’d never gotten to do as a kid but something that they had the rest of their lives to do together.

“Maybe we could teach Franny to swim next summer. If we have our own place.”

As he said it, Ian hoped that Mickey could see the flood of hopes that he had for them in his eyes— that he wanted a place with a pool, and a balcony, maybe a backyard, and maybe even a fucking garden—he’d always wanted to grow tomatoes. More than anything he wanted to build something sturdy, that could stand up to whatever ground would inevitably shift beneath them in the years to come— he’d been thinking about that a lot these days, especially with all of the pandemic shit that had pulled a rug out from under this entire neighborhood.

Mickey’s gaze flickered up from where it had been boring a panicky hole in Ian’s sternum, meeting Ian’s eyes at the phrase “our own place”— and Ian instantly knew that he got it, that he could see the dreams that Ian was building for the two of them right in front of their eyes. That after months and years of obstacles and chaos and other voices infiltrating their heads, now it was just them— now it was just Ian and Mickey, clinging to each other and drifting through the calm, chlorinated waters.

And maybe it was their proximity, or the intensity Ian knew he was pouring out in his gaze, but instantly the air between them shifted as Mickey looked up— starting to hang heavy like the press of the humidity in the air. Their faces were centimeters apart— and Mickey’s lips parted slightly, his eyes now cast downward at Ian’s lips. Ian could smell the sweet, warm beer on Mickey’s breath, mingling with his own; he looked at Mickey, whose arms were still wrapped around his neck, water dripping down his face from the hair that was fanning over his forehead—and Ian just had to pull him in, had to place a hand in the damp hair at the nape of Mickey’s neck and tug him closer, backing them against the tiled wall of the pool.

Ian could taste the faintest bitterness of chlorine on Mickey’s lips, from the water droplets lingering there, as he took Mickey’s bottom lip between his teeth. Mickey’s hands were still limply wrapped around Ian’s neck, keeping himself afloat— even though Ian had backed them against a wall in the shallow end of the pool again, and Mickey could probably touch his toes to the ground if he wanted to.

Ian raised his hand from under the water, wanting Mickey closer— he pressed a hand to the side of Mickey’s neck, slick with water, and slid a thumb over Mickey’s collarbone, pressing down with the pad of his fingers.

And Mickey gave a little involuntary noise from the back of his throat, sending a jolt down Ian’s spine.

Ian’s hands circling Mickey’s neck was definitely not a foreign concept while they were kissing— it was something they did a lot these days, especially as their hours in bed had taken a turn from the crazed, I-missed-your-body-so-fucking-much sex they were having in the beginning days of being in prison together and those early months after Mickey had gotten released— but both in prison and during this fucking quarantine, they’d gotten a bit more experimental, and a bit more reckless—especially before Ian had gotten his warehouse job and they were still on their structureless “honeymoon,” spending entire days lounging in bed.

It was those days of lazy, languid kisses, after years and years of already knowing each other, that Ian realized that he was maybe a little bit obsessed with Mickey’s neck. He’d always joked about liking Mickey’s legs, and that was true too (if he was being honest, there wasn’t a part of Mickey’s body that didn’t make his blood run hotter)— but the first time Mickey had grabbed Ian’s hand and put it up to his neck while they were tangled together, pressing down until Ian’s hand covered most of his throat, Ian knew that they’d opened Pandora’s fucking box.

By this point, Ian’s hand was pretty much always on Mickey’s neck at some point while they were fucking or even just making out— if he was being totally honest, Ian’s hand was on Mickey’s neck more often than not in lots of contexts these days, once they realized how much they both loved it. But there was something about this current moment, of Mickey wantonly desiring a point of contact there, right now, while they were very randomly and decidedly making out while floating in a public pool on a lazy weekday afternoon, that made Ian’s blood run hotter than usual, and rush quicker through his veins.

Ian let the pads of his fingers creep up the velvet skin of the side of Mickey’s neck, pressing a little deeper, a prelude— he could feel the vibration of Mickey’s heartbeat starting to flutter from where Mickey was still pressed against his chest, still clinging to his neck in the water.

They’d already extensively discussed limits and everything, Mickey would tap his wrist twice if shit got too intense— but even with that in mind, Ian pulled apart from Mickey for a second, trailing ghosts of kisses up the side of his neck and nipping at the underside of Mickey’s jaw. Mickey stretched his neck back and gave a little involuntary sputter of a moan, bubbling out of his mouth before he could stop it. He fisted a hand in Ian’s hair, at the nape of his neck, and leaned forward again to press their lips together with more fervor.

Ian pulled back again, his upper back resting against the concrete lip of the pool. Mickey looked disheveled and wrecked, half-dry chlorine-crusted hair sticking up from where Ian’s other hand had been cradling the back of his head, his blue eyes gleaming and catching the over-bright summer light. Mickey was still clinging his arms around Ian’s neck, holding on— they were in a fucking pool, and Mickey still couldn’t really fucking swim yet— and even though they were standing in a place where Mickey’s toes could certainly touch the ground, the whole thing felt weirdly insular and intimate, like they had to cling to each other.

Mickey raised his eyebrows at Ian, like he was daring him to keep going.

Ian leaned forward, breathing heavily into Mickey’s mouth, but not pressing their lips together yet—and he reached a hand up again, against Mickey’s tender skin. Mickey’s legs were wrapped around Ian’s hips now, locked like a vice to keep himself upright in the water— and he pressed a little harder, gently pulsing at the sides of Mickey’s neck, in tandem with their lips pressing together over and over again as the warm waters surrounded them—the whole thing, the whole combination, made Ian feel indescribably floaty and weird and warm and blissed out; his skin stinging like ice and fire at every point of contact, electricity zapping his nerve endings wherever his fingertips met Mickey’s skin. Mickey fisted his hand harder at the back of Ian’s hair, nodding slightly—and they were definitely not going to fuck here, in the filth of a Southside public pool, but this insular closeness, the knowing what they both wanted to right now, was equally as thrilling and fulfilling to Ian in the moment. He could almost feel his own heart beating, reverberating as it pressed against Mickey’s chest, vibrating straight through Mickey and back to him as they clung to each other in the water.

Mickey’s body was thrumming, letting out little gasps of breath between kisses and touches—and Ian pulled back and dragged his lips down the side of Mickey’s neck, inhaling the sunwarmed skin. Fuck. He was never, never going to get enough of this.

Later, they’d dragged their water-heavy limbs back through the still summer streets to the Gallagher house, their skin pink and their bodies exhausted from soaking up the sun— and they’d collapsed into bed, feeling the dried chlorine coating their skin.

Ian reached a hand up, rubbing a thumb over Mickey’s cheek, their bodies pliant and fatigued— and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

“Thanks for letting me teach you how to swim.”

Mickey had smirked. “Yup, that was definitely the only highlight of today. Swimming.”

#a fluffy premise AND ian being obsessed with mickey’s neck??#what more could u want #*blows kiss to elias and stella* for u #also yes i did have a word document on my computer titled ‘neck fic’#what about it #ty for the prompt anon this was truly an experience to write #ily<3 #gallavich #gallavich fic #shameless #shameless imagine #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #ian and mickey #ian x mickey #ixm #gallavich fanfiction #cw choking

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truglori · 3 years

Text

Homebody (Ch.5)

Summary: Amiyah is the younger sister of local drug dealer (Durkio). Shy and reserved she keeps to herself and stays out the way. But lately she began to find interest in his right hand man/ best friend (Erik Stevens). Wanting to get him to notice her she discovers that he already had her wrapped around his finger without even trying! There was only a few problems that kept her away from her fantasies , her brother that controlled almost every single breath she took and would kill anyone who looked at her that way and lastly Eriks girlfriend, Alexis , who they called the queen of the hood according to her lavish lifestyle as well as being with the next newest top boy in the making. While Alexis was his girl to the streets all Amiyah wanted to do was be his Homebody...

Pairing: Erik Stevens x Thick OC

Warning: Language, Robbery, Smoking

The smoke from the three burnt out blunts fogged the car. Erik’s head hung low as he tried to focus on the topic of discussion. Looking to his right he watched as Durk sparked a lighter to light up the fourth one and started a new rotation. Taking it from his hand Erik put the blunt to his lips and pulled. He had to admit that he was feeling high but yet nowhere near done with the session.

It was a Monday morning. Almost ten am to be exact. They were parked in Erik’s car in front of Frank’s Auto Garage. To a normal person it look like a regular place of business but it wasn’t. Durk used the shop to clean his money so he wouldn’t have anything tracing back to him. Erik glanced up and watched two corner boys walk out with a backpack each before getting into their vehicle and driving off.

“Aye man I appreciate you for coming through with this assignment. Once I get this nigga Shawn out the way I could finally do some business with the new connect.” Durk spoke before inhaling the blunt.

Nodding his head Erik slouched in his seat.

“I told you it’s nothing. Just don’t forget I’ma need one person to come with me. Someone who can watch my back.”

After going into almost two years without doing a job Erik felt a little rusty. He wanted to be certain that he could bring someone with him who could look out. Someone who he could trust that had to be skilled enough to keep up. The last thing Erik wanted was for this to go wrong and he end up in prison or even worst, dead.

If it was any other person coming to him to offer him work Erik would decline them with a quickness. This wasn’t something that he wanted to be a part of anymore. He had aspirations to become a better man. And with that, that means he had to give up the lifestyle to live a better one. But it was Durk. The man who had the opportunity to gun him down right in front of the trap house when they first met five years ago spared him. Gave him a second chance.

Erik witness Durk do way worst to people who didn’t do nearly as half as much compared to what Erik was going to commit that night. So he felt in a way obligated to come through for his best friend. There was no other option. He owe him his life.

“No doubt. Actually I got this one associate that’s in debt with me. Told him I could use his help whenever I needed him to pay me off. Heard he a shooter that don’t miss. Anybody who have your back I think it’ll be him.” Durk grinned confidently.

Erik nodded his head absorbing the information. Trusting his brother with whatever choice he went with he continue to ask him where the drop would be.

“Okay so what about this nigga Shawn. You got an address.”

Durk pulled out his burner. Going to a text message he clicked on it and passed the phone over to Erik.

He read over it. 4523 Lanely Rd. Pulling up his notes icon Erik typed in the address and saved the information. He gave the burner back to Durk. Realizing the area that it was in Erik shook his head. Nice suburban area where it was mostly Caucasian which amount to one thing. Nosy ass neighbors. It was a risk but he would just have to deal with it.

Hearing Durk sighed he studied him. His hands was rested over his eyes as he was leaned back in the chair. His boy looked stressed.

“You good?” A genuine tone came out.

“I think my sister fucking around with someone but I just don’t know who yet.”

Erik’s eyebrows lifted up. Glancing up to the ceiling as he listened carefully.

“I just really hope it’s not one of these fuck niggas. I might need yo ass for another job after this. We could rob this nigga together.”

The two chuckled.

‘Damn I can’t rob myself.’

Erik thought to himself before engaging back in the conversation.

“What makes you think she fucking with someone?” Erik curiously wanted to know. It would give him an advantage on what he should not be doing.

“Well the other night I walk in the livingroom and there she was sitting there with her titties all out, make up done like she was getting ready for a dick appointment or sum shit.” Durk replied in a stressful tone.

Daydreaming at the ceiling, Erik’s memory jogged back to her outfit from that night. He could still see the way her cleavage appeared in front of him as she sat across from him in the diner. The soft flesh looking at him. He had to control himself multiple times that night from staring at them so much. But he couldn’t with the way they would bounce a little every time she laughed.

Speaking of her smile. Erik adored that about her the most. He love how her lips curled up showing off those pretty white teeth. The way her lipgloss color made her lips appear more fuller than what they already were. The same lips that drove him crazy from the softness. If he could sit in the booth kissing her all night he would have. That was enough to satisfy him. Erik sucked in his bottom lip as if he could still feel hers on his. She just had to let him get a taste.

‘Why she let me do that?’

Erik berated himself with that question as he shook his head about his lack of self control. He felt guilty. He was the nigga who his best friend was worried about hurting his sister. Right now he was feeling like a pussy. It was like he didn’t have the balls to speak up and tell him the truth. He was feeling Amiyah.

“Why you don’t like her dating anyway? I get you trying to protect her but I mean she is 21, you can’t stop her from living bro.” Erik wanted to sound reasonable but without suspicion.

“I know she got a life to live but the fact that mine is tied up with hers don’t help.”

“What you mean?”

Durk paused glancing at his phone. “ I mean besides you I can’t trust none of these niggas man. What if whoever she talk to know that she my little sister? No telling what they’ll do to her just to get to me.”

Erik listened understanding his perspective.

“I done did some foul shit out here that I’m not proud of, you know this. This why I am what I am because if I don’t get them first then I know for damn sure they’ll try to get me. I’m just worry about Amiyah getting caught in between.”

To Erik it seem like Durk just wanted was best for his sister. To him family came first. It was important to him. He valued it and would do anything to protect the ones he love. Erik comprehend this.

“You worried she won’t be able to know who and who not to trust?”

“Every-fucking-day. That’s why I don’t want her going anywhere besides home and work. I just want the best for her.”

“You should that’s your sister. Just trust her. She not gon let you down.”

Durk looked at Erik, who gave him a sincere look. If there was anybody else he could trust with his life aside from Amiyah it was his friend. His brother. Erik.

____________________________

Amiyah leaned against the register as she wrote down her completed work assignment. Blowing the air out of her mouth she let the pen fall from her fingers and on to the counter. She was exhausted and ready to clock out and lay in her bed. Her mind began to wonder about the events that transpired over the weekend.

The last time she spoke to Erik was after he dropped her off. He sent a text asking if she made it in safely and that was it. Nothing else since then. His on and off again of inconsistency irritated her. She wanted him to be all about her just as much as she was for him. Of course under the circumstances they had to be cautious but he didn’t have to go another two days without hitting her up.

Checking the time on her Apple Watch she had an hour left before she was up and out of the boutique. She started cleaning certain areas and rehanging the merchandise back onto the racks to make time go by faster. Hearing the sound of the bell ring brought her back to reality.

“Welcome to Bella Ella’s.” She greeted them without looking up and only focusing on her task out of habit.

“Thank you. Hey girl!”

Peering in the direction of the voice she saw Alexis. She was going through the dress section. Amiyah sighed inwardly before walking over to her.

“Hi welcome back. Can I help you look for anything?” She faked a smile.

“Yes actually, I’m looking for something the same as last time just not too revealing this time. I want to tease him. You know?” Alexis sent her a smirk as she walked in front of one of the mannequins observing the clothes.

Hesitant but curious Amiyah asked her. “For another date?”

“Uh you can say something like that. It’s a surprise.” Alexis eyed her up and down.

“Well we have this ruched bodycon dress. It’s an off the shoulder long sleeve lace type of look. I think it’ll fit you. Check it out.” She handed her the dress.

Alexis put the dress up to her frame. Looking in the mirror she smiled at the choice of clothing. Shaking her head she grinned pointing her finger at Amiyah.

“See girl you get me. It’s crazy. Almost like we like the exact same thing.”

“You can say that again.” Amiyah whispered under her breath.

“Huh?”

“Oh I was just talking to myself. If you’re ready I can ring you out.”

They walked to the counter. Amiyah logged in and scanned the dress. Folding it up and putting it a bag she heard Alexis speak.

“Girl how do you do it?”

“Do what?” Amiyah answered confused.

“Work a nine to five. I mean don’t get me wrong there’s nothing wrong with it, it’s just that I personally wouldn’t do it.” She smiled.

“ I like working honestly. I get to meet new people. I have fun here sometimes. This is where I met my best friend and I get to get away from home.” Amiyah shrugged her shoulders as she spoke truthfully.

Alexis nodded slowly. “Right. So are you seeing anyone? Anybody caught your attention?”

Laughing lightly Amiyah shook her head. “No. I met this one guy and gave him my number but nothing popped off yet.” She was talking about Cane.

“Hm if that don’t work out you should let me hook you up. I know a few niggas that’ll blow ya back out and then pay ya bills after.” Alexis grabbed her bag and started to walk away.

Before she could stop herself the question came out faster than she expected. “Is that what you do?”

She stopped midway before turning back around. Her face was contorted. Sizing Amiyah up as she stepped in front of the counter.

“Bitch I do whatever the fuck I have to do to get what I want. Even if it mean that I have to fuck around here and there. It keeps my bills paid and my nails from getting dirty. Maybe I could teach you a thing or two.” She gave her one last look before she strutted out the shop.

Amiyah rolled her eyes. Taking a ‘How to get a man’ class from Alexis was the last thing on her list. Girls like her and Amiyah don’t mix too well. She just couldn’t understand how you could trade in time spent on a fake relationship just to get what you want with true happiness.

Her shift was finally coming to an end. Amiyah sent her brother a text fifteen minutes early just so he would be on time to pick her up. Looking towards the entrance her coworker Kacy was coming in to relieve her.

“Hey Kace, it was pretty much a slow day so there’s not any go-backs that you have to do. I would just try to act like you’re cleaning up. Look busy because you know Rhonda be watching the cameras.”

They both laughed.

“I know. She think she slick but go ahead and get out of here. Enjoy the rest of the day. See ya Amiyah.”

Waving goodbye Amiyah exited the boutique. There she spotted her brother waiting outside in his all blacked out Audi A4. She strolled in his direction and got in.

“Wow it’s been forever since you’ve been here on time.” She teased fastening her seatbelt.

Durk kissed his teeth as he pulled off driving to their home. “How was work?”

“Boring I do the same thing everyday.”

“So quit.” He took a quick glance at her.

She sighed irritated. “I’m not quitting my job Durk.”

“You the one who said it’s boring. Just quit.” He laughed.

Amiyah rolled her eyes. “Why? So you can keep your eyes on me 24/7. You always trying to babysit me, damn.” She snapped at him. The mood changed instantly.

Durkio’s jaw clenched as he turned looking at her with his eyes blinking rapidly.

“Babysit you? Where the fuck you get me trying to babysit you from telling you to quit-“

“I know that’s what your intentions are! Not that you care about me not liking my job but because you just want me to have to depend on you and ask you for everything!” Amiyah’s voice kept getting higher with every word.

“Miyah you already depend on me. That two thousand dollar bed that you sleeping on I brought that. Your whole bedroom set, I brought it. The apartment that you living in comfortablely without worry about having to pay one muthafuckin bill, is because of ME!”

Durkio’s hand gripped the steering wheel tightly as he parked in front of their building. He could feel his breathing began to spike as he felt himself get more agitated and angry. Getting out of the car he headed towards the entrance to avoid going any further with her.

Amiyah jumped out and followed closely behind going inside. The elevator ride going to their floor was quiet and tensed. Amiyah tried her best to not argue with her brother but she had more to get off her chest that she didn’t want to go unheard.

“You know you’re a fuckin control freak.” She slammed her purse and jacket on the couch one they made it threw the door.

Durk paused his steps from going into his room.

“How? Tell me what I do Amiyah.” He walked leaning against the counter with his hand folded over the other waiting for her to talk.

“Durk stop playing dumb. Everything that I do you have to be a part of somehow. Like the time I couldn’t take the job offer from the mall because it was ‘too far’. Or how whenever I want to hangout with Kelley you think I’m going to fuck some man-“

“That’s because you are! I know Saturday night you ain’t go out with no fucking Kelley dress the way you were. I’m not fucking stupid Amiyah.”

Amiyah got in his face. “Why would I go fuck someone and I’m still a virgin Derrick. I’m not dumb. I’m not just sleeping with any and everyone.”

Her eyes burned with tears threatening to fall.

Durk used his forearm to move her out of his space. It triggered him whenever someone would walk up to him with disrespect. He knew he would never put his hands on his sister but he didn’t want to feel the urge like he would so he gave her a light push.

“Miyah back the fuck up.” His jaws were tensed and his nostrils became flared out.

“So you can speak your mind but I can’t? I’m not your girl Durk so stop putting rules and regulations on me like I am. I wish our parents were still here so I wouldn’t have to be in this shit hole of a place you call home.”

Amiyah’s blood was boiling. She spoke without thinking. She let her emotions get to the best of her before she could calm down to try and talk to her brother like the young adults they were. But it was too late. She’d gone too far.

Durk shook his head before releasing a dark chuckle.

“You an ungrateful ass bitch, you know that?” His voice spoke lowly but loud enough for her to hear.

Amiyah looked at him in disbelief as the tears came down her face.

“I had to put my life on hold to take care of you. I put myself at risk everyday just to make sure you’re taken care of. So that you won’t have to go out there doing anything you didn’t want to do just to put food in your mouth and clothes on your back. And this how you show some fuckin appreciation?”

He looked at her confused.

“Durk I do appreciate-“

“Get the fuck out my crib.” His voice spoke coldly.

“What?” She unfolded her arms before she walked towards him.

“You heard what I said. By the time I get back you better be gone. Good luck supporting yourself with that weak ass job.”

With that being the last thing spoken to her he brushed past her shoulder and left. Amiyah waited in the same spot hoping that her brother would come back and just tell her to forget this whole argument. But he didn’t.The tears that she thought she had control of were now cascading down her face nonstop.

“What the fuck did I just do!” She scolded herself as her hands covered her face.

She walked to her room. Pushing her door opened her eyes scouted around the room taking in all of her belongings. Where would she go? What could she take? How much could she take without having a vehicle of her own?

Walking over to her bed she sat in silence. She had to think. She had to find away to get her out of the mess that she put herself in. Picking up her phone she dialed the number of the only person she could run to without judgment.

“Hey, Kelley.”

_______________________________________

Erik rolled up to Frank’s Auto Garage. It was time for him to go on the mission. His attire was all black to make himself easily invisible in the shadows. Getting out and walking to his trunk he popped it opened and lifted his secret compartment befor grabbing a duffel bag.

Closing the trunk behind he locked it using his key fob and walked to the front door. He banged four times doing the code knock before he was invited in. One of Durks look out men opened the door.

“Oh shit, what’s good E. You working tonight?”

Giving a silent head nod of approval Erik dapped him up.

“Ok. Well boss is in management. I don’t know what’s going on but he definitely not in the mood. Tread lightly man.”

Taking note Erik walked to the room where Durk was. When he reached it he saw him sitting at his desk talking to someone that he never seen before. Erik tapped lightly on the door making his presence known.

Durk eyes shifted up. “Erik what’s good? Why you knocking? You my brother, you know you ain’t gotta do that.”

“Didn’t wanna interrupt. What’s good? How you doing?” Erik gave him dap with a hug. When they pulled apart he looked in his eyes trying to find an answer. Durk was hiding something.

“Yeah I’m straight. But I want you to meet the person who gon be going with you tonight.” He replied quickly before walking back to his desk.

The guy that sat there quietly got up from his seat. From Erik’s view he didn’t look too much younger than him. He seen his attire matched his as he seen that the young dude already had some leather gloves and a ski mask rested on his head.

Erik gave him a fist pump. “What’s up, I’m Erik.”

“Cane. Nice to meet you bro.”

Durk watched the two interact before interrupting.

“Alright it’s almost 3am. Just got word that nigga Shawn was at the club,which should be closing now. If y’all make it to the address before him-“

“That’ll give us time to find an area to stakeout and then bum-rush him. Catch him off guard.” Cane spoke.

Durk turned to look at Erik before smirking giving him a ‘I told you’ look.

“Exactly. Listen just make sure y’all get the M and dip.” He was referring to the million dollars stashed away.

“I know how this go. Just make sure this nigga straight before we go out there. You know what you doing lil nigga?” Erik questioned Cane.

He kissed his lips. “Look man this ain’t my first rodeo and if I didn’t know what I was doing I’m sure ya boy wouldn’t be calling me.”

“Whoa nigga you owe me a solid. Don’t act like I need you.” Durk stepped in to check him.

Cane waved the two off.

“Aight I trust ya judgment Durk but if shit hit the ceiling, you bailing me out nigga.”

Durk laughed. “Nigga get fuck and go get my money.”

They dapped one last time and Erik left with Cane trailing behind him. He went up to a shelf that had multiple sets of keys sitting on it. Erik grabbed one before walking to the back. There were five different cars out there. He hit the unlock button on the key fob that led him to a dark burgundy Toyota. It was the getaway car for the night. Erik never used his own when he had to do jobs.

He opened the back door and place the duffel bag in the bag. It had two Beretta M9’s, an Ak-47, as well as a roll of duck tape and rope in case the situation went left. Erik got in the driver side. He heard Cane slipping in the passenger seat as he place the address in. It would take them 37 minutes to get there.

Glancing at the clock it was now 2:24 am which gave them plenty of time to find a place for a hideout. Entering the highway Erik and Cane rode in a comfortable silence. Cane every now and then giving Erik a quick glance over before turning his head.

Some time had past when they noticed that they were arriving in the neighborhood of the house where Shawn stayed. The houses were a few yards away from each other but Erik knew that they would still be able to hear the sound of a gun if one went off.

“If you park on this side that bush will be a blind spot. That nigga won’t be able to see us when he pull up.” Cane pointed to the area.

Erik shook his head in agreement. “I was thinking the same thing.”

Pulling into the spot Erik parked the vehicle and shut it off. The light from one of the houses landscape slightly shined in the car to make it possible for them to see each other as they waited.

“So you the infamous Erik I heard about. Ya name got some clout to it with all them licks you did when you was coming up.” Cane broke the silence.

Ignoring his comment Erik reached in the back unzipping the duffel and taking out one of the Berettas. He began to load the clip.

“I never thought I see the day where I would be doing a job with you. Heard you was one hard ass nigga”

Chuckling Erik stopped to face Cane. “What you want an autograph or something. Damn nigga you sound like a fan.”

Cane smacked his lips and then laughed.“Aight you got it. But nah I’m just showing respect to an OG.”

“I don’t look that much older than you.”

“Still one of the OG’s.” Cane showed him respect.

“I appreciate the courtesy. I heard some good things about you as well.” Erik was referring to his previous conversation with Durk.

Cane shrugged. “I do a lil sumn.”

Reaching in the back Erik pulled out the Ak-47 and handed it to him.

“So then you should be able to handle this then.” He was testing him.

“What! This is personally my favorite. This thing could make any nigga dance.”

Erik laughed watching the thrill of excitement in Canes eyes. He reminded him of himself when he was first getting started. Ready and down for everything.

The headlights of a Cadillac SUV caught their attention. It was Shawn pulling up. They watched as he hopped out the driver side.

“Heard this nigga keep one on him. You think he gon try and pull it.” Cane took the safety off of the AK. He was talking about his piece.

“I don’t give a fuck what that nigga got. He better not flinch.” Erik pulled the mask over his face. He watched Shawn walk to his passenger side and opened the door.

“Oh shit! This nigga got a bitch with him.” Cane blurted out.

“Plans don’t change. It is what it is.” Erik spoke truthfully. He had to get the job done.

Cane nodded his head and pulled his mask down. They watch Shawn walk to the front door with the girl following close by. Three minutes later the couple went inside the house.

Erik and Cane exited the vehicle making their way onto the front lawn. Staying away from the security lights they crept on the side. There was a side door that they found that lead right into the kitchen. Peaking through the crack of the blinds Erik spotted the two in livingroom sitting on the couch facing the opposite way.

“Let me pick this lock.” Cane bent down to eye level with it. It took him nothing but a minute to get it open.

Quietly Erik turned the knob and entered. Both him and Cane slowly tipped toe to the livingroom putting a gun to both of their heads. Erik had Shawn and Cane had the girl.

“If you want you and your girl to make it to see another day I suggest you to comply with my instructions and not try anything stupid.” Erik threatened as he cocked the gun.

Shawn froze in his seat as the girl next to him started to scream. Cane hopped over the couch and snatched her up by the arm.

“Bitch shut the fuck up before I put a bullet in yo head. You know what get against the wall and stare at that muthafucka.” He pushed her towards the wall.

“Y’all niggas know who I am?” Shawn finally spoke up.

“Yeah nigga. Why else you think we here? We just want the money. It’s simple.” Erik negotiated with him. He pulled him off the couch by his shirt.

“I don’t know what you talkin-“ He was interrupted by Cane hitting him in the mouth with the butt of his gun.

“Nigga quit fuckin playing with us. Run that shit.”

Erik shook his head but smirked. This was one reckless ass dude and he liked it.

The girl screamed again. Erik could hear the terror in her voice. It sounded like she was going to cry.

“You got five minutes to give us that money or you and ya bitch die. Which one is it? Yo life or some dead presidents”

Cane started to run the show and Erik let him as he sat back and watched.

“Aight nigga. It’s in the fucking safe.” Shawn spit the blood out of his mouth.

“Lead the way then bitch.” Cane pushed him and followed him to the back.

Erik was left alone with the girl who was facing the wall. From behind she had a bad ass body. Gazing over her wardrobe she was Burberry down and her fire red locks fell down her back. He kept glancing back and forth between the dark hallway and her back before Erik finally heard a few words slip out of her lips.

“Please don’t hurt me.” She pleaded.

The moment her voice reached his ears his face scrunched up. Walking up to her he turned her around to face him. Backing up he put his gun down shaking his head with disbelief.

The bitch that Shawn had with him was Alexis.

____________________________

Please excuse any mistakes! I will edit this chapter soon!

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celiamae99 · 3 years

Text

Sparks Fly -- L.G.

Falling in love with my best friend was never the plan. I mean a girl from the South Side who was just trying to get a two year degree and ignoring the fact that her parents were never coming back, falling for the man who was a recovering alcoholic who had an addict and alcoholic father an a bipolar mother who had the potential to get a degree from any college he wanted?

What could possibly go wrong?

“Come on, get in, I’ll drive you the the bar for work.” Lip told me getting up from the couch, as I was getting ready to walk to work.

“You just got back from work,” I reminded him. I knew that after his shift at the garage he would want to sleep, but he ignored my comment and slipped his coat on an a hat over my head.

“It’s negative ten degrees out,” he commented. “The fuck you’re walking to the bar from here.”

“But—“ I tried to protest but it was useless.

“Get your ass in the car, Lily.”

I never thought the passenger seat of lips old car would ever be as inviting as it was, but as we listened to music and he smoked, I realized I was in love with Lip. Fuck.

The worst part was, and I knew it, was that everybody basically knew that I liked Lip, besides Lip. He was the only consistent person in my life besides Fiona and Ian, and the only true person to care about me in a way that was more special than Ian and Fiona did. I loved my Gallagher’s like they were my own, but Lip was different.

He could smile at me and I would forget how to breathe. He could hold me in bed and I would forget all my problems. He punched a kid at a party who tried to roofie me and I swear in that moment I had never felt more loved.

He held me the whole night as I cried for hours because my mom was never coming back home, never once getting upset even though he had brought it up before.

He held me two days after I got raped and I refused to leave Carl’s bed. He slid in behind me as I faced the wall and held me for hours and hours. He didn’t make me talk, he didn’t make me cry, he didn’t have me look at him. He held me until I was able to to turn around and face him and the truth of what had happened.

He was there when my dad had died. He came to the funeral, he held my hand, he made small talk with my grandma and everything. He sat with me while I sat by the grave and cried after everybody had left.

He was there when nobody else was.

“It’s just so hard at night,” he commented as he flicked his smoke. “That’s when it all sets in and I can only thinking about alcohol.”

“How do you not drink?” I asked. “I mean you come to the bar and hangout with me, V, and Kev, and then you go home and everybody but me and Debby drink. I just don’t know how you do it.” I commented, pulling my leg to my chest.

“Honestly? It’s why I sneak into yours and Liam’s room.” I stared at him and waited for him to continue. “Liam’s basically my child. And sometimes just watching you both so peacefully is enough to get me through the night.”

“What about when Liam sleeps with Carl or Debby because I work late?” That was the real question. Lip ended up in my room almost every night, whether Liam was there or not. Most nights, because I worked the bar until closing, Liam slept in Debby’s room or with Carl. That didn’t stop Lip from climbing into bed with me.

He scratched the back of his neck, his nervous tick. “I think you’re my light in a dark place.” He muttered. “You stood by me through it all, ya know? Karen, Fiona, Frank, Marcia, the stuff with school, Ian, Debby having a baby, rehab, twice. You were just always there. The one consistent thing in my life.” He focused solely on the road and I smiled to myself. “And even when you’re sleeping, I know it’s enough to keep me from stopping to drink.”

I grabbed his hand lightly and threaded our fingers together, and kissed his cheek. “Stay at the bar until I close?” I asked quietly. Lip kissed the back of my hand and my cheeks flamed rosy red.

“Don’t I always?” It was true, when I worked at the bar, Lip stayed and had one to many cokes and scared off the spiteful men that tried to get in my pants.

“Sometimes you you go off with a girl,” I muttered bashfully. I did not want Lip to know the sinking feeling I got in my stomach when I knew he was with a girl.

“Haven’t since I got out of rehab.” He breathed lowly. I thought back on it. Had it been that long? Really? “You’re cute when you’re jealous.”

I gave an embarrassing smile. “Are you saying I’m only cute when I’m jealous of other girls?”

Lip didn’t miss a beat. “You’re always cute. You’re cute when you cling yourself to me even though half the bed is yours. You’re cute when you try to reason with Carl and you scrunch your nose up. You’re cute when you and Liam dance in the kitchen to Johnny Cash. You’re cute when you get angry at your chemistry homework. Scratch that, you’re hot when you’re angry. You’re cute when you come home from work and just drop into bed after changing into my shirt. You’re cute when you blush. You’re cute when you wake up in the morning. You’re cute when I come downstairs and you’re making breakfast in my shirt and boxers. I think that’s when I find you the cutest.” I stared at Lip as he pulled into the bar. “What?” He asked as he felt my stare on him.

“You -- you,” I stumbled for words. “How the hell am I suppose to go to work for seven hours with all I want to do is kiss you?”

Lip barked out a laugh. “Well, princess, I guess you’ll just have to wait until after the ball for you prince charming to kiss you.”

I scoffed, and swung myself over the console, straight on to Lip’s lap.

“Not even a kiss for the girl who’s sitting on your lap?” I leaned my head to one side and let my hair fall around us like a blanket.

“If I’m going to kiss you,” He breathed into my ear making me shiver, “It’s going to be my moment. This,” He gestured between us. “Is extremely hot, don’t get me wrong, and I don’t think I’ve ever been more turned on, and you better believe we are going to do it in the car, but our first moment will not be here.”

“Okay,” I muttered, trying to ignore the bile in my stomach from rejection and tried to think of the possibilities that would happen when I left work.

“Hey,” He gripped my thighs tightly. “I want this badly, baby. Just not like this. You deserve special. And this isn’t special.” My heart fluttered, he knew I had never been with anyone or done anything, that I was waiting for the right person. I didn’t want what happened with my parents to ever happen with me.

“Okay,” I said more bashfully, now shy at my forwardness, biting my lip.

“Don’t do that,” Lip said, gripping my thighs tighter.

“Don’t do what?” I muttered, confused.

“You bite your lip.” I stared at him, very confused.

“Yeah, so? I do it all the time,” I muttered off handedly, failing to notice the problem.

“It’s hot.” Blushed bright red for what felt like the hundredth time today.

“It’s hot when I do that, but yet you don’t want to kiss me?” I quirked my eye at the 23 year old.

“Come here,” He muttered. He pulled me to his chest and I shifted to get comfortable. That’s when I felt it. He was hard. “Yeah, that,” He muttered softly. “Is from you. And it’s probably going to stay that way until we get back to the house.”

“I should get to work,” I muttered, my hot breath making goosebumps arise on his neck.

“And Liam is sleeping with somebody else tonight. The only person who gets you tonight is me.” I kissed his pulse point softly before scrambling out of the car, looking at a flustered Lip.

“Are you coming?” I asked, looking back at him, finally noticing how flustered he was. “Awe, are you the one that’s all hot and bothered now?” I giggled.

He glared at me before hopping quickly out of the car and dashing towards me. I shrieked and made a mad dash for the bar. I quickly ran in and ran behind Kev. “Save me,” I pleaded as Lip came in flying behind me.

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you for the pretty lady.” Lip said with a fake, horrible, British accent. I squealed and ran into the back.

Kev laughed, “Y’all are idiots!” Kev called after us as Lip chased me.

“I got you,” he slammed me against the door of the girls bathroom and I took a deep breath as his hot breath fanned my face and his arms went above my head.

“Yeah, and what are you gonna do about it mister. As far as we’re concerned nothing’s happening until after my shift.” I said in the brattiest voice I could muster.

“Don’t be a brat just because you’re not getting your way,” he threaded his fingers through my hair and tugged harshly. I gulped. I knew this was what I wanted.

“Right,” I nodded slowly. “But I am a brat, so what are you going to do about it?” I taunted, pushing my chest forward, knowing how to use my assets.

Lip took a deep breath as his eyes glanced between my eyes and my chest.

“You’re going to go to work and then when we get home,” He moved so his hands were set just below my breasts and he rubbed the underside of them. My breath hitched in my throat. “Then, we will have fun, you brat.”

I’ll admit, him calling me a brat turned me on more than I wanted to admit. “Okay, I mumbled.”

“Now go work before Kev comes and yells at you.” Lip muttered, kissing my forehead firmly. I pranced out to the bar, knowing full well that Lip was watching my ass.

Throughout my shift, I knew Lip was watching me. I laughed with Veronica throughout the whole shift.

“V!” I giggled as she made another joke about Kev. “You can’t say that about your husband!”

“Lip’s looking at you again,” She wiggled her eyebrows and gave me a knowing look. My cheeks flamed bright red. “You finally admit that you guys like each other?”

“Kinda,” I muttered. “We’re not gonna define it, I don’t think.” I said softly. “The last thing he needs is me going crazy on him trying to define something when we don’t even know what it is.”

“Girl, you trippin’ if you don’t see how he looks at you.” I stared at her blankly. “I mean, you both have had eyes on each other for years.”

“Yeah, maybe me, but no way for him.” I mumbled wiping a glass. “He had Karen, and then he had Mandy. Then he had that thing with his professor and then quickly moved on to Sierra. And I look nothing like them. Plus I have all my scars and that’s a lot of trauma.”

“Look at me.” She said softly. “It doesn’t matter that you don’t look like them, baby. He loves you and that’s what matters. Your trauma is also his, he’s been there through it all. Also, you’ve been with him through all the things too. He loves you girl, don’t doubt that.” V told me honestly. “Plus, you’re hot as fuck girl.”

After my shift, V told me that she would lock everything up with Kev. I smiled as Lip pulled me into his side.

“You ready to go home?” He asked, glancing down at me as I nervously fidgeted.

“Yeah, but,” I hesitated briefly, “Can we take it slow?” I whispered, nervously.

“Yeah,” He muttered, pressing his lips to forehead. “Whatever you want.”

My heart warmed at his sweetness and I hugged him tightly as we made our way to Lip’s car. I gnawed my lip as he opened my car door. I was in for a long night.

#lip gallagher imagine #lip gallagher #lip gallagher fluff #shameless #shameless imagine #shameless fluff #lip gallagher imagine fluff #best friends to lovers imagine #best friends to lovers #fluff #fluffy #fluff imagine #fluffy imagine

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dreamylyfe-x · 3 years

Note

What do you think are iconic Ian moments, lines/speeches?

This is my second attempt at answering this because my first attempt got eaten by the internet gods and I had to grieve.

You know, honestly, I go for the little moments. But I also think that when you slap a label like “iconic” so something, it’s gotta be short and hit hard. Like “To be or not to be” is iconic -- but the entire (very long) monologue is... a very famous monologue. That said, I’ll start with start with non-verbal iconic Ian moments:

The chin. Cam is so young in that scene and the way he silently settles into that pose -- I think it’s fascinating and so key to Ian’s character. it’s the pettiness, the stubbornness, the bratty younger brother all working together.

Sticking with season two, and technically earlier in the season -- the look on Ian’s face as he watches Mickey do pull-ups, while he flips the butterfly knife over in his hand... It’s amazing to me that the description “starry-eyed” existed before that scene did.

The scene in Cascading Failures (not THAT scene) where he and Lip are leaving Gunderson House and they encounter Fiona. Specifically the way he and Lip, in tandem, flip off Frank while walking away. A big part of Ian is his relationship with Lip and how the two of them band together under Fiona’s leadership sometimes. Those episodes in the middle of season 3 are a great example of it.

Lying unconscious on the bed while Mickey smokes and watches him sleep. Green tank top, dark wash jeans, twisted like he is in the exact place he landed when Mickey dropped him there. One of my favourite shots of the whole series.

The Club Kiss.

They way Ian looks at Mickey when Mickey doesn't want to shake Ryan’s hand. Hope Springs Paternal.

Ian’s season five hair, to me, is doing a lot of important work. I pretty much consider every shot of that hair to be iconic.

But, like, also. The two hugs with Mickey in Crazy Love. I cannot put one of them above the other.

Floating in the pool, fully clothed.

Staring at his reflection in the store window in his janitor uniform.

The Border kiss. I find it really hard to pick one from season 7. But I also think that moment, where they are kissing goodbye, is a big image. As much as I might also want to talk about how he can’t light his cigarette in the wind in that same episode. (I also think that the 🤷‍♀️ hand gesture he makes in the car as they leave Damon, yet another hapless Gallavich victim, in the motel parking lot is pretty epic.)

The look on his face when he sees Mickey again in season 9.

The smile he has on his face right after he says “I Ian, take you” and right before he says “Mickey.”

This DOES seem to be enough to be getting on with, iconic moments-wise... but this show has been on a long time. I’ll be more sparse with lines.

“Not cool, Jimmy-Steve.”

“We mostly just fuck. Like you and Angie”

“You're gay and you love me.”

“Oh, come the fuck on, Mickey.” (mostly because they are fighting about a potential murder of Ian’s close family friend while eating pop tarts and he is sincerely irritated rather than deeply freaked out.)

“Don’t you mean guest womb?”

“Too much! Too much is wrong with me.”

"I like having a purpose.”

“It’s not my fault, I didn’t do anything to bring this on myself. I have a disease.”

“I can’t get him outta my head.”

“I love you Mickey Milkovich. More than anything.”

#good #then don't.#asks #sincerely sorry this took so long #taking a long time to do simple things is my thing right now #like I still haven't texted my sister back #this one was really fun #though it's really highlighted that Ian is more a man of action and less a man of quips #particularly if they don't include puns #I still sorta want to include #but that's far too much Ian talking to Jimmy-Steve #Ian gallagher #shameless

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wiypt-writes · 3 years

Text

Riding High

Ch14: True Perfection Has To Be Imperfect

Chapter Summary: Frank gets the keys to the new apartment and the renovations start. Everything seems to be going so well for them all, until Fliss gets some news that rocks the very foundations they’ve been building.

Chapter Warnings: Bad Language words.

Chapter Pairings: Frank Adler x OFC Fliss Gallagher

A/N: As always, if you like and enjoy please comment and Re-Blog. I’d love to hear your thoughts and questions!

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Fliss Gallagher and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Riding High Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 13

It’s your time, it’s your day, it’s never too late, to change lanes.

Frank could tell something was off the minute he pulled onto the yard. The usual chatter that rang out was absent and there just seemed a general air about the place that he couldn't identify. But it wasn't long before he found out why.

"Fliss is on the floor!" Mary’s voice loud with worry as she pointed into the paddock. Frank glanced over as he shut the door to his truck and felt himself grow cold. He broke into a jog, heading towards the fence and let out a sigh of relief when he saw she was moving.

“Wait here…” he instructed Mary before, with a flourish, he vaulted over the side of the paddock and jogged across the riding paddock.

“What happened?” he asked.

“Oh, hey Sailor!” Fliss grinned up at him, where she lay flat on her back, Thor led by her side, head on her thigh. “Just had a fall but everything’s working, just giving myself a minute to get my breath and what not.” “Nothing broken.” Joanne looked at Frank from where she knelt by Fliss, the reins to the big, black horse in her hands

Frank knelt down next to Fliss and looked at her as she reached out and gently ran her hand down his forearm. “How d’ya fall off?” “Oh Bronson got confused at the jump, was trying to dodge out to the right. I corrected him and he kind of took off, twisted mid-air and I got unseated.” she explained.

“It was a pretty good show of acrobatics.” Joanne nodded in agreement.

Thor gave a little whine and his head moved, his eyes looking up at Fliss who scratched his ear.

“I’m ok, mate.” she said softly. “I’m good.”

"This wouldn't happen on a boat ya know" Frank teased gently and she looked up at him, quirking an eyebrow as she propped herself up on her elbows.

"Boats are boring...nothing like having a half tonne animal between your legs" she replied, causing him and Joanne to smirk.

“You’re terrible.” Joanne shook her head as Fliss simply grinned.

“Okay, I’m good to go." Fliss sat up fully. Frank got up off his knees and held out his hand, gently pulling her to her feet. She dusted herself off and then turned to take Bronson's reins off Joanne.

"Can you give me a leg up?" She asked and Frank felt his heart stop

"You cannot be serious!" He spluttered back.

"What?"

“You’re getting back on?”

“Yeah.” Fliss looked at Frank as if he was stupid “I’m not hurt, not really, just gonna ache like hell for a few days. It’s the same as riding a bike, you don’t stop if you fall off!” “It’s a little different to riding-“

“Besides,” she spoke over him, “he’ll be unsettled and if I don’t get on and end the session well it’s gonna be in his mind, and mine for that matter, for next time and it’ll just be a nightmare so…”

Frank knew there was no point in arguing with her. Instead he held his hands up and backed away as Joanne boosted her up.

“What happened?” Mary asked as he reached the paddock fence she was now perched sideways on, her legs hanging either side.

“She fell off.” Frank answered simply. “She’s okay though. She’s back on.” They watched as Fliss gently walked the horse round before picking up trot, then canter and then turned him straight for the jump. Frank grimaced slightly but he needn’t have bothered, the horse cleared the fence and Fliss gently slowed him down, patting him.

“Fucking crazy.” Frank mumbled to himself, shaking his head.

Whilst Fliss wasn’t seriously injured, she was certainly feeling the effects later on that night. Frank had called Verity, despite Fliss’ protests that she was fine, who had dropped round to Frank’s with some painkillers that were slightly stronger than your average ones. Fliss had taken two before dinner and as a result had started feeling a little bit woozy and light headed, commenting to Frank that it felt like she’d been smoking something funny. After diverting Mary’s questions on what that meant, they’d watched a bit of TV until Fliss announced she was thirsty.

“I’ll get it.” Frank made to move but she stopped him.

“I’m fine.” she sat up with a grimace, grabbing at her notoriously bad shoulder.

“Baby, just-“ “Frank, stop it!” she said a little sternly. “I’ve fallen off more horses than you’ve had women.” “Wow.” he looked at her, and she snorted.

“I just mean it ain’t the first time and it sure as hell won’t be the last, kinda comes with the territory. I’m just gonna a bit bruised.”

“Fine” he relented, and she pushed herself up off the sofa and walked slowly into the kitchen.

A moment later he heard her groan “Fraaaaaaank.” “What?”

“The soda’s on the top shelf. I can’t stretch my arm.” “What’s that? You do need my help?” “Stop being a dick.” she shot back, and with a wink at Mary who was laughing, he stood up and headed into the kitchen.

Not long after that they all ended up heading to bed. Frank knew that tomorrow was going to be a long day as he was getting the keys to the new apartment in the morning and they were starting the work straight away, Bill already scheduled to come and help. He’d booked as much time as he dared off work over the next week, given that he hadn’t been working there all that long but thankfully his Team Leader had been very understanding and Bill had said he’d take over on the days Frank had to be in.

Fliss stretched out, hissing at the bite of pain that coursed through her side and shoulder, the noise she made caused Thor to immediately spring up on the bed, nuzzling his face into Fliss' causing her to wince a little as he basically led over her like a huge teddy bear.

"Careful, buddy." Frank gently chastised the dog, reaching over to scratch his ears. He knew the animal was incredibly tuned into Fliss’ feelings, as were Cap and Heidi, the two horses she owned. It was something that genuinely amazed him and, if he was honest, made him smile a lot.

"Stupid soft git." Fliss muttered fondly, as Thor lay his head on her chest, teetering on the edge of the mattress, precariously, until a few seconds later he rolled and toppled off causing them both to giggle. The German shepherd shook himself off, shot them a scathing look, before he headed to his bed and flopped down with a loud huff.

"He didn't like it when you were on the floor before." Frank said softly, as she moved tenderly to lay her head on his chest. His hand reached round to card through her hair and down the side of her neck.

"No he never has." Fliss said gently "Ever since I got him he's been like that. He would always be the one that would lay by me, lick my face after...." she trailed off, the sentence didn’t need completing. "He would growl something rotten at John when he started, but it was Loki that went for him in the end. That's why John killed him"

Frank stiffened, his hand stilling on the crown of her head, not quite sure he had heard right. "He killed your dog?" he repeated, questioningly.

"Yeah." Fliss swallowed. “He said he had bought him as a guard dog for the property not for me." She sniffed a little. "He poisoned him"

"Oh, Lissy, I..." Frank sighed and she gently tangled her hand in the hair on his chest.

"I know."

They lay still for a moment, her hand tracing shapes on his skin before she suddenly blurted out.

"How do you do it? How do you make being with you so fucking easy?"

"What?" Frank frowned.

"This...I mean...you're kind, gentle, smart, funny, considerate. You know I’d half convinced myself you were gonna be crap in the sack to compensate it all but..." she shook her head. "I don’t get it."

"You don't get it because you spent almost four years living with a cunt who treat you like shit" Frank said simply, anger flooding his system. “Lissy, I’m not perfect, far from it. I’m stubborn, opinionated, shit with words, I’m really untidy as you’ve noticed and, well, up until meeting you my longest relationship in the last ten years lasted for six months.” He shook his head. “All I do is treat you how you should be treated, with love and respect. Don’t put me on a fucking pedestal for being normal.”

She tilted her head and looked at him for a second, as Frank took a breath. That outburst had been a little uncalled for and harsher in tone than he’d meant, but he wanted her to understand that their relationship was normal. The way he treat her was normal. He was uncomfortable with this idea that she thought he was something special because he didn’t abuse her or hit her.

“I’m sorry I just…” he felt her stiffen besides him and he let out a soft sigh.

“No, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to sound so abrupt.” He gently pulled her closer and nuzzled his face into her hair, kissing her head “You’re worthy of everything I said as a bare minimum. It’s not me being some kind of saint.”

“Can I put you on a pedestal for being gorgeous?” she asked after a moment’s pause and Frank snorted, shaking his head. “Well you are.” She protested at his response. There was another pause, until she broke the silence once more. “I do get it you know. Maybe I do appreciate you more because you’re not like him but, is that so wrong?”

“I’m not saying that, we’re together, we should appreciate each other.” he pressed. “I’m just telling you I’m not flawless.” “I know that.” she shrugged “Neither of us are. But isn’t that what makes this so perfect? It is because it isn’t. Better a diamond with a flaw than a pebble without”

“Confucius.” Frank raised an eyebrow at her, a small smile on his face as she looked up at him once more. Her eyes flashed and she grinned at him “How very philosophical.”

She laughed “We’ll you’d know all about that, Professor.”

“Okay, here’s another one of his.” Frank grinned back. “Our greatest glory is not in never falling, but in rising every time we fall…”

“See, I told you I was right to get back on Bronson.” she quipped and at that Frank laughed.

******

Fliss woke the next morning to Frank gently kissing her cheek, softly running his hand over her hair.

“Morning Sweetheart.” he placed a mug of coffee on the side as she blinked and looked at him “How you feeling?” “Fucking sore.” she groaned. “What time is it?” “Half eight. I just packed Mary off on the bus.” “Half eight?” she sat up suddenly, immediately regretting it and winced once more. “Fuck, my alarm”

“Yeah I turned it off. Think the last batch of painkillers you took at three am wiped you out.” he sat on the edge of the bed as she shuffled up. She made to reach for her drink and let out a little huff of pain so Frank stopped her and handed it to her.

“Thanks.” She smiled. “I’ll ease off when I start to move about.”

“Well, don’t rush about.” He instructed as she took a drink of her coffee, before he saw her face fall.

“Oh, shit. I have a lesson to give at ten in St Pete’s…” she frowned, and Frank could she she was starting to worry so he gently reached out, tucking her wild auburn locks behind her ear.

“Just chill.” He shushed her. “Joanne called before.” He nodded to her phone “I answered and told her I didn’t know if you were gonna be in but she said she’d open up and reschedule your morning appointments. Then you can see how you feel this afternoon.”

For a moment he thought she was going to flip out at him effectively making a decision like that for her but after a second or two pause she gave a grateful smile and sat back against the pillows.

“Thank you.”

“Take your time, your mom and dad will be here in a bit. Then we’re gonna get the keys and start on the apartment.” Fliss grinned as she took another drink of coffee.“You excited?” “Yeah, yeah I am.” He said, honestly. “Just wanna get it all started and then we can move in.” She smiled and he stood up. “Your mom’s bringing breakfast, said something about her boys not being able to work on an empty stomach.” He arched a brow. “Her boys?” Fliss smirked over her mug. “You really have got her wrapped around your finger.” He chuckled “Well what can I say, I’m a likeable guy…” “Hmmm you’re something I’ll give you that.” she quipped, and he laughed, placing a kiss on her cheek before heading back out of the room.

It wasn’t long before Fliss’ parents arrived and they ate breakfast, Verity fussing over Fliss who kept assuring her and her dad that they were fine. Once they’d eaten, Bill and Frank headed over to meet his new landlord and after he handed over the keys, they got to work. For their first task they shut the utilities off and ripped out the bathroom, which wasn’t too big a job seeing as half of the damned suite was smashed up anyway. Once that was done they moved into the living room and tossed out the tatty old furniture that had been left before doing their first run to the local dump. Then they moved onto ripping up the carpet in the living room.

“Shit!” Bill spluttered as a cloud of dust rose up from where they had wrenched the offending item free from the tacks. Frank blinked, backing up slightly, before he stood up, arm across his mouth. “Didn’t think it would be that bad.”

Bill rose to his feet and they both moved away, Frank picking up a bottle of water that was on the side and rinsing his face with it. He tossed it to Bill who did the same, the pair of them looking at one another before snorting a laugh each, and shaking their heads.

“And I thought this would be the easy bit.” Bill wiped his face. “Was less hassle ripping out the bathroom.”

It took them an hour or so to cut the carpet into easily manageable pieces, rip it up, and toss it into the back of their trucks. By now it was scorching outside, and also inside as the air con wasn’t on seeing as they had no power. This meant both men were dripping with sweat and Frank couldn’t remember ever feeling so damned warm or grubby in his entire life.

By lunch time they’d pretty much cleared the lot. Carpets, broken light fittings, broken kitchen doors and also the old washing machine. Grabbing another bottle of water, Frank stood outside the apartment, hand on his hips and smiled at Bill who gave him a pat on the shoulder.

“Good job, son.” he nodded. “It’s a blank canvas now. Dave will be here soon with the new bathroom, shouldn’t take us too long to plumb it all in, connections are already there. We can start the tiling tomorrow.”

Frank smiled and grabbed his T-shirt at the bottom, lifting it up to wipe at his face and as he did so he heard a sharp wolf whistle. When he emerged from his shirt he grinned and looked at Fliss who was slowly walking towards them with Verity, Thor following behind, both women carried familiar paper bags.

Frank made his way over and she stopped, where as Verity carried on, quite tactfully towards Bill and Fliss grinned.

“Hey.” she greeted him as he leaned down to give her a kiss and she wrinkled her face. “Gross, you’re all filthy and sweaty and…” She trailed off, her eyes glinting as her voice dropped slightly and she ran a hand up his arm to his shoulder “Actually…” “Behave.” he raised his eyebrow at her.

“Don’t wanna.” she pouted.

He shook his head and nodded to the bag. “You bring me lunch, Honey?”

“You need to keep your strength up.” She winked. “Mom drove us to Subway.” “I love you Verity!” Frank called as he fished out his Turkey sub and she grinned at him.

The four of them settled down where they could, Fliss sitting on the steps, Frank by her feet on the lawn and Bill and Verity perched on the tail of Bill’s truck. They ate together, Fliss telling Frank she’d postponed her teaching now until Monday to allow herself time to heal a little, which he was secretly pleased about. It wasn’t long after they had finished lunch that the new bathroom turned up the women left them to it.

Frank and Bill worked well together and between the two of them they had it fit in little under two hours and Bill connected the water back up to test it. When it worked properly Frank gave a nod of satisfaction and smiled. The suite was an off white colour, nice and with a modern large bath. It might have been second hand but you couldn’t tell, and Frank liked it.

“Not bad for a day’s work.” Bill smiled. “The tiling shouldn’t take too long tomorrow and then, well, it’s just a case of decorating and a new carpet.” At that point the two men heard footsteps and looked up to see Mary bounding in, followed by Fliss and Verity.

“Hey Stack.” Frank greeted her as she looked around. “Whaddya think so far?” Mary nodded appreciatively. “Least it has a toilet.” The adults laughed and Frank nodded “Yeah, I mean we can move in now.” “What?” she frowned “There’s no carpet in the living room!”

“I was being sarcastic.” Frank replied and she narrowed her eyes at him.

“Roberta says sarcasm is the lowest form of wit.”

“Well, she’d know.” he shrugged.

“Am I staying there tonight?” She questioned Frank.

“It’s up to you.” he replied “We’re not going out are we, Honey?”

Fliss shook her head “No way, I ache too much, but I was thinking we could BBQ maybe? All of us?” “Ooooh, yeah!” Mary nodded, agreeably “Then Roberta can come too.” Frank shrugged “Yeah, I’m ok with that.” “Mum, Dad?” Fliss asked.

Verity and Bill exchanged looks and Bill nodded. “I need to nip home and shower first but…” “No need.” Fliss shook her head. “We swung by and picked you a spare change up. You can shower at Frank’s.” “Oh can I?” Bill looked at her. She grinned back in response as Bill turned to Frank “That okay? You know, seeing as it’s your place, not hers.” Fliss stuck her tongue out at her father whilst Frank simply shrugged.

“She acts like she owns the damned place when she’s there anyway so it might as well be.” he teased and she glared at him, digging him in the ribs.

“Shut up”

*****

The next ten days consisted much in the same vein. Frank had to work on the Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday but Bill took over the painting for him, and then on the Friday, a week after they had started, they fit the new carpets. The Saturday they spent fixing on the new kitchen doors and plumbing in the washing machine and on Sunday morning Frank fit the final touches, screwing in the new light fittings and then it was done.

That afternoon, Frank and Fliss stood in the middle of the living room admiring the finished article. It smelt of new carpet and wet paint, a smell Frank had grown immune to having been breathing it in for god knows how long.

“It looks great.” Fliss smiled, taking the fresh, light grey walls, darker grey carpet which was complemented by the brushed steel modern light fittings.

“Yeah, not a bad job.” Frank grinned. “We can start moving the stuff over tomorrow.” At that point Mary barrelled in from the hallway and beamed “My room looks awesome, Fliss, come see!” She gushed. Fliss allowed Mary to pull her out of the living room and followed her down the hall to the room on the right. It was a good sized bedroom, and it was freshly painted in light blue, a colour Mary had chosen herself.

“Frank says I’m getting a new cabin bed soon with a desk underneath and I’m gonna put it against that wall.” She rambled on. “And on that wall I’m gonna stick my shells and there I’m gonna have my shelves for my books and a TV…” Frank leaned in the doorway watching as Mary pointed everything out to Fliss, his face curling into a smile. He’d never thought something so simple as having her own room would make the girl so damned happy.

“…and Fred can have his own basket, although he never sleeps in them anyway…” Mary was continuing and Fliss looked up and caught Frank’s eye. He smiled at her gently and she beamed back. “…and I can put my photos here…” Mary finished “What do you think?” “I think it sounds amazing, Stack.” Fliss said, smiling at her “I can’t wait to see it all finished.” “Okay.” Frank pushed himself up straight from the door frame “Let’s go grab your stuff Stack and head over to find out what V’s made for dinner.” “I hope it’s beef.” Mary said, skipping out “Her Sunday beef is the best.” “It’s chicken.” Fliss whispered as Frank laughed, dropping an arm round her shoulders as they made their way outside. He locked the door and they headed back to the apartment, Mary collecting her stuff. Once Frank had checked she had everything she needed he tossed it into the truck and turned to Fliss.

“I’ve been thinking.” he said, as Mary climbed into the seat.

“Sounds dangerous.” Frank rolled his eyes “I know we said we weren’t gonna move in together yet, but, well, how about you bring some stuff over once I’ve got all the bedroom furniture and then that way you don’t need to pack a bag when you come stay.” Fliss smiled at him. “A sensible suggestion.” she agreed, her arms sliding around his neck.

“It has been known.” He grinned, his hands dropping to her hips as he leaned down to kiss her. They both jumped as the horn on the truck sounded and Mary leaned across the seats.

“Come on, stop kissing, I’m hungry.” “How about we ditch her on the side of the road?” Frank spoke loudly to Fliss and Mary scoffed.

“Stop making empty threats, Frank.” she sing songed.

Frank looked at Fliss who burst out laughing “You have no idea how damned similar the pair of you are.” She smiled with a shake of her head. *******

It was almost a fortnight later when Mary casually told Frank she had reached her decision about Evelyn. It was a Friday and she had been at University for two classes that morning, and was heading to normal school for the rest of the afternoon. Part of the reason that Frank worked late on a Tuesday was so that he could be flexible when it came to things like this and could pop out for an hour or so to go and pick her up when he needed to.

He greeted her in the hallway as always and she slipped her little hand into his as they walked back outside and over to his truck. She glanced in the paper bag which contained her lunch he had bought her from the deli near the boat store, a treat he liked to get her every Friday now he could happily afford it without worrying and she grinned.

“Save it for when you get to School. Otherwise everyone else will be eating and you won’t.” She folded the top of the paper bag over and grinned at him as he eased his way up the freeway.

“You drive like an old lady.” she grinned and Frank took a deep breath, a smirk on his face. That was a comment Fliss had made to him on numerous occasions, one which he normally retorted back with some reference to her driving like a maniac.

“It's Florida. I'm blending in.” He said simply to Mary, smile still playing on his lips. She side-eyed him for a moment, in a way that made her look ridiculously like Diane, even though he knew, again, that was a habit she’d picked up from Fliss. Or Roberta for that matter. Frank had a feeling that as Mary grew up she was going to be a perfect candidate for the whole nature v nurture debate…

“I talked to Fliss last night.” Mary said.

“I know, you stole the phone off me when she called and ran off to your room.”

“Yeah, why didn’t she stay with us last night?” “It’s Thursday, she never stays on a Thursday. You know this. She had paper work to do.” Mary fell silent.

“What were you going to say?” Frank gently pressed her.

“Huh?” “You said you talked to Fliss. Was that all you wanted to tell me or…” “Oh, no.” Mary replied “I asked her about whether I should see Evelyn.”

Frank took a deep breath, his face remaining passive “Right, so what did she say?” “The same as you. That it was my decision and whatever I wanted everyone would understand and be okay with it and that no one would be mad…”

“Of course no one will be mad.” Frank looked at her. “Evelyn is your grandmother, and it’s your decision if you wanna see her. Not mine, not the courts, not anybody’s but yours. And no one, not even me, is gonna be upset about what you decide, you got that?” “I know. And I’ve made up my mind.” “Yeah?” She nodded “I want to see her.” “Okay.” Frank licked his lips. Truth be told he wasn’t sure how he felt about this but he meant what he said. It was up to Mary and at least now he would have some control over the access. “If you’re sure then I’ll call her on Monday and we’ll make some arrangements.” “Maybe she can come here, see our new place.” “Maybe.” Frank nodded, although he had a feeling that hell freezing over would be more likely.

There was a moment’s silence as both of them were lost in their own thoughts. Frank stole a glance at his niece as she sat looking out of the window, chewing her lip and he decided to move her away from the subject as he turned off the main road.

“How was school?”

“Fun.” Mary nodded. “Not like regular school fun. But interesting.”

Fun. Regular. Two words Frank had craved for Mary all her damned life, and it made him smile to hear her so full of life, so happy, so settled.

Mary’s attention flickered from him to the seat next to her and she moved her lunch bag to look at it.

“What is this book?” she asked, picking it up and flicking it open.

“Discourse on Method.” Frank said, giving her the title of his latest read “Rene Descartes.”

“What's it about?” she pressed.

“Existence.”

“Existence?”

“Yup. I think, therefore I am” he said, a small smile on his face.

“Well, of course you are. That's obvious.” Marry rolled her eyes and Frank supressed a snort. Everything was so logical in her little brain, there was an innocence to it all that he loved.

“I think about Fred, therefore, I am Fred.” she continued.

“Cogito ergo Fred?” Frank teased looking at her.

“He's a dude and he's a guy,” Mary grinned, “and he only has one eye.”

Frank let out a chuckle as Mary tipped her head back and continued in a loud, ridiculous voice.

“Fred! Fred! Fred! Freeeeddddyyyy, Fred, Fred!”

Frank laughed began to slow down, pulling up by the school.

“All right, here we are.” He glanced over and saw Mary was fiddling with her belt and opening the door. “Hey, wait till I come to a stop…” he started to protest.

“Then come to a stop already!” Without so much as a glance back she grabbed her lunch and shot over to the playground which was brimming with other kids. He watched, a small smile playing on his face as she made her way over, dropping her lunch to the floor and throwing herself into a game. Something that he would never have believed possible back in September when she’d first started. But here she was, almost seven months later, like she’d been there all her life. His attention flicked to Bonnie as the woman shot him a friendly wave and a nod, which he returned before he set off back to work before someone called the cops on him for sitting outside a school staring at a yard full of kids.

****

As he was winding up at work for the day, Jake called him, an impromptu guys night out was being organised for that night as Jake had a ‘pass out’, his words not Frank’s. Frank hesitated for a moment, he hadn’t planned anything with Fliss as such, but it was Friday, their night…

“Oh come on!” Jake snorted as Frank rolled his eyes. “Don’t tell me Frank Adler is hesitating over a night out!”

“No, it’s not that…” Frank protested “We’ve just had a really busy fortnight and…” “Man you’re whipped. Already. What is this? Like month five and you’re already in the-”

“I’m not whipped, I just like spending time with my girl, what’s wrong with that?”

“Dude come on!”

“Okay, okay.” Frank sighed. “What time?” “Eight at Fergs, and if you don’t show I’m gonna come round your gaff and drag you out myself.”

Frank shook his head and cut the call before he dialled Fliss.

“Hey, Sailor.” She greeted. “I was just thinking about you.”

“About me or that thing I did to you on Wednesday night?” he grinned and she snorted.

“No, about you. Although now I’m thinking about that thing.”

Frank chuckled. “So what were you thinking about?”

“Oh, erm, tonight. Thought we could grab a pizza and head up to the marina for a walk, maybe grab a beer.”

“Erm, yeah.” He sighed. Shit.

“We don’t have to.” She responded, clearly reading his voice tone. “It was just an idea.”

“No, I do, I just….” He took a deep breath. “Well, Jake called, said the guys are going for beers and it’s been a while since we all got together so I was…” “Frank…” Fliss laughed softly “You don’t need to justify yourself. If you wanna go out, go out.” “You don’t mind?”

“Why would I mind?”

“Well, Fridays are kinda our night.”

“I know but, well it’s not as much of a big thing now Mary has her own room, we kinda get our own nights a bit more often.” “Ok, fair point.” he smiled and she laughed.

“Maybe I can wait for you at yours? I can go to Roberta’s for a little while with Mary.” “You don’t have to ask.” Frank smiled softly “You can stay whenever you want, you know that.”

“Well, that’s settled then.” she replied, before someone shouted to her and she retorted before coming back to Frank “Sorry baby, I gotta go but I’ll see you later.” “Ok, love you.” “You too…”

***** After Frank headed out, Fliss wandered down to Roberta’s with a bottle of wine and after more loud hairbrush-karaoke, Roberta had cracked open the Bourbon and the two women had sat on the stoop until just gone eleven when Fliss had headed back. Throwing on one of Frank’s T-shirts she crawled into the king sized bed (an excellent purchase decision that she had talked him into) and snuggled down into the new blankets (another excellent purchase decision), Thor jumping up and taking his position by her feet.

She can’t have been asleep long when she woke as Thor gave a low whine and jumped off the bed, nudging the door open and heading out into the hallway.

Then she heard a thud, followed by cursing.

“Shit. Who put that there?” She heard Frank groan, then he started laughing “Thor! Get down!”

There was more laughing, and protests which Fliss listened to for a moment, before she swung her legs out of bed and headed down the short hallway. She quickly checked the front door as she walked past to make sure he’d locked it behind him, and then headed into the living room to find Frank led on the floor as Thor basically jumped all over him, licking his face and wagging his tail.

“Some guard dog you are.” Frank laughed again as he attempted to push the dog off him.

“Good job you’re not a burglar then.” Fliss spoke, causing Frank to look up, grinning stupidly at her “Mind you, the amount of noise you’re making you’d be a pretty shit one…”

“Heeey…” he grinned, as Thor finally moved off him and he pushed himself to his feet. “There you are!”

“Here I am.” Fliss nodded, and she couldn’t help but smile at the look on his face. He was beaming at her, a stark contrast to how John was when he used to come home drunk, but then that was Frank all over, a completely different person, and she knew that.

“There you are, my girl.” He stopped in front of her, his hands falling to her hips. “C’mere…”

“Ok, someone had a good night.” She grinned as he placed a sloppy kiss on her lips.

“Yeah, it was.” He nodded and then he suddenly looked around “So the bedroom moved.” he turned back to her and whispered conspiratorially. “It’s not where it usually is...”

“No, you moved.” She laughed. “You moved apartments, remember?”

“Oh yeah.” He nodded, before he looked down at her, taking in her bare legs “Is that my T-shirt?”

“Yes.” “Take it off, thief.” “Okay, let’s get you to bed.” Fliss patted his chest.

“Yeah?” He arched his eyebrow grinning.

“To sleep.”

“No sleep.” He pouted, dropping his head to gently nuzzle at her neck. “Wanna give you some lovin’...”

“Yeah and how are you gonna do that when you’re too drunk to take your pants off?” Fliss laughed as she led him down the hallway.

“You can take em off…” He said as he stopped in the bedroom, looking round.

“Oh I can, can I?” She asked as he kicked off his sneakers.

“Yes…” he nodded as he sat on the bed. “I’ll allow it.”

“You'll allow it?” Fliss deadpanned as he started to undo the buttons on his shirt. Eventually he gave up and reached back, grabbing it behind his neck and with a tug pulled it over his head, tossing it to the side. He reached out to Fliss, pulling her close to him, his arms wrapping around her back as he looked up at her.

“I will allow it, but only because I love you.”

“Ok so let me get this straight.” Fliss chuckled as she ran her hand through his hair. “You're gonna let me take your pants off because you love me?”

“Yeah.” He nodded.

“I'm so lucky…” She snorted

“Hey, I’m a catch…” Frank let go of her and flopped back on the bed.

“I never said otherwise.” she grinned, moving to take his belt off.

“Ah ha ha see, you do wanna get in my pants.” “I want to get you in bed, so help me out here hot-shot.” With a grin Frank raised his hips and she tugged down his jeans, dropping them by the side of the bed.

“Come on…” she patted the pillows and Frank shifted, moving the right way onto the bed and after a bit of a battle with the covers he’d settled himself down, one arm thrown over his head as he watched Fliss who gently turned off the lamp and settled down next to him. Shifting onto his side, his hand gently ran up her thigh, resting on her hip underneath his T-shirt.

“I love you.” He said softly, and she smiled and kissed the tip of his nose.

“I love you too.” she smiled “Even when you’re being a drunken idiot.” “I’m not drunk.” “Course not.” “Okay, maybe just a little bit.” he conceded after a moment. “But I do love you.” “I believe you.”

“So much, you know what? One day, I’m gonna marry you.”

“Oh, are you?” Fliss asked, running her hand through his hair.

“Yup, and then we’re gonna make little Franks and Flisses and…” he stopped as Fliss’ laughter filled the room. “Why are you laughing?” he asked her, his tone indignant “You don’t wanna marry me and make babies?”

“Not after us being together for like less than 6 months.” she laughed.

“Well that’s just rude…” he mumbled, dropping his head forward so it fell to her chest.

He stayed still for a moment, mumbling something else as Fliss continued to run her hands through her hair, and it wasn’t long before his soft snores told her he was asleep. With a fond smile she dropped a kiss to his head and closed her eyes.

*****

Fliss took great delight the next morning in telling Frank exactly how much shit he’d been talking when he came home, including telling her that he wanted to marry her and make babies. He’d groaned and banged his head on the table as he sat nursing a coffee, instantly regretting that as his head was pounding as it was. Thankfully, Mary had gone with Fliss to the yard and spent most of the day there leaving him to suffer in peace, firing abuse to the Circle Of Trust What’s-app group, his only slight consolation being they all seemed to be suffering just as much as he was.

He collapsed into bed on the Saturday at just gone ten pm and slept straight through to eight the next morning when he was woken by Fliss softly kissing him awake. He knew what she wanted, and happily obliged and once they were both spent and slightly sweaty from a particularly energetic sex session, they both showered and after a breakfast of Waffles and fruit, spent the rest of the morning browsing the IKEA website for a bed for Mary. They then headed over to Bill and Verity’s for the usual dinner before they’d all collapsed in bed at Fliss’ after watching a film together.

Monday morning brought the usual routine, shower, breakfast, kiss Fliss goodbye, drop Mary at school, head to work, check the list of active jobs for the week, start one of said active jobs, pause for a mid-morning snack from the coffee shop, resume work. All standard stuff, so it was a little surprising when the routine of the day was broken.

“Frank?”

Frank popped his head up from the deck of the boat where he’d been working on the steering column and looked at Fliss who was stood in the open entrance to the workshop.

“Hey…” he smiled, “What are you doing here? Not that I’m not happy to see you but…”

Because he was, he was always happy to see her, he was simply surprised as they hadn’t arranged to meet for lunch like they sometimes did if she was teaching over this way. He stood up and reached for a cloth to wipe his hands on before he climbed down from the boat and as he noticed the look on her face he frowned.

“Baby, what’s the matter?”

“I err…I got a call and I’m sorry, I didn’t know what to do and I just needed to see you and…”

“Hey, hey.” he soothed, his hands on her arms “Calm down.”

She took a deep breath as Frank glanced over to Paul, his co-worker and nodded his head to signal he was heading outside. Paul waved him away and Frank dropped an arm round Fliss’ shoulder and steered her outside into the sun and out of the view of everyone.

“What’s wrong?” he asked her and she nodded, taking a deep breath. He could see she’d been crying and he searched her eyes with his own as she looked at him.

“I got a phone call…from the Victim Assistance Services.” Her eyes were wide “John’s been granted the right to a Parole hearing. They’ve set the date for 23rd May, six weeks.” Frank took a deep breath, concentrating on keeping calm despite the fact he could quite happily have kicked something there and then.

“I don’t know why I’m so shocked.” Fliss continued “I mean I always knew this would happen, but hearing that he’s finally got a date...” she looked at Frank “If he’s successful, then he could be out by the end of June and…”

“Honey, just because he’s been given the right to a hearing, doesn’t necessarily mean he’s going to get out.” “The woman on the phone said that there’s a better chance that it will be refused if I appeal. But if I want to do that then I’ll have to either go in person or do a written or recorded statement and I don’t know if I can…” A tear fell from her eye and Frank gently wrapped her arms around her, pulling her to him. “I stood in a courtroom last time, telling them exactly what he did to me, about how he beat me and degraded me, only to be told I that I was a liar, and that I liked it rough, that I egged him on and… I can’t….I can’t do that again Frank…”

She was rambling into his chest and he could do nothing but pull her close and drop a kiss to her head.

“No one’s gonna make you do anything you don’t wanna.” he pulled away slightly, cupping her face in her hands.

“They’re sending me a letter.” she said “Explaining my rights and stuff in more detail.” “Want me to call Greg?” He asked, a sudden inspiration coming to him. “I know he’s a Family lawyer now but he did do some time with this type of thing a while back, if you’re happy to speak to him I’m sure he’ll be more than willing to help…”

“I don’t know if I can.” she sniffed. “I don’t know if want him knowing every detail, I mean even you don’t know it all…” “I know.” he agreed. “And you don’t have to tell him anything to start off with, just ask his advice.”

She sniffed gently, and looked at him. “I have to tell you don’t I?” She said softly, “All of it?”

Frank hesitated. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know, but if this was going the way it looked like it was going to go, he would find out sooner or later, and, as he looked at Fliss, he knew that no matter how hard it was, how shitty it was going to be to open up fully, she would need to do that herself to keep some control over the situation.

“You don’t have to do anything. But if you decide you want to, then I’ll listen.”

He dropped a kiss to her head and pulled her back to him, gently rocking her to-and-fro as he squinted out over the harbour.

**** Chapter 15

#riding high #frank adler #frank adler x ofc #frank adler x original female character #gifted #gifted fan fic

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