#boom have been on a motherfucking roll the last few months
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Hey everyone, run over to your local comic shop and buy every issue of SOMETHING IS KILLING THE CHILDREN.
#comic books#comic recs#boom! studios#something is killing the children#boom have been on a motherfucking roll the last few months#this#strange skies over east berlin#red mother#they're killing it
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Truth Serum
Pietro Maximoff X Reader
Summary: While working with Tony and Bruce in the lab you accidentally drink some very experimental truth serum, leading to some unwanted confessions with your coworkers.
Warnings: use of y/n, swearing, lots of dialogue, barely proofread, etc.
Word Count: 1.7K
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You were busy working with Tony and Bruce in the lab and jokingly Tony placed his latest concoction next to your drink but you didn’t realize until it was too late and you drank Bruce’s experimental truth serum.
“Jesus Tony can you turn down that obnoxious music? I’m so sick of that stupid 70s rock music you’re always playing.”
Tony stopped what he was doing are looked over at you in shock.
“L/n, what the hell are you talking about? You told me you loved my music.”
“Well I lied, I lie to you a lot actually.” You looked up eyes blown wide with dear as you covered your mouth after saying that.
“I did NOT mean to say that.”
“Y/n… did you just take a sip of that beaker Tony so stupidly placed right next to your drink?” Bruce asked pinching the small space in between his eyebrows
You looked down as remorse filled your gut, noticing a small dribble of blue liquid slowly falling down the side of the beaker you obviously just took a drink from. Your eyes life to meet Bruce’s as you slowly nodded a small yes.
“Well, no thanks to Tony now we get to find out if my very experimental truth serum actually works.”
“TRUTH SERUM?!” You shouted, the last thing you wanted was for your team to have unrestricted access to your secrets.
“No thanks to me? Are you kidding Banner? This might be the most fun we have with Y/n all year!” Tony said with a cheeky grin
Your groaned and let your head fall onto the desk you were sitting at. “How long will this last?” You asked muffled
“Best case scenario for you? It could wear off within the next 30 minutes. Worst case scenario? You could be highly responsive and overly truthful for the two days.”
Tony broke out with a loud cackle as he got up from his desk and exited the lab “Good luck kid!”
“And theres no antidote?” You pleaded
“Sorry, but we were barely in the trial phases of creating this and we don’t try to make an antidote unless we know for sure that it works.”
“So how the hell am I supposed to deal with this in the meantime?”
“My best advice? Lock yourself away in your quarters for the next day or so to avoid saying anything unsavory to the rest of the team. Because I don’t have a doubt in my mind Tony left to go and tell the whole team about your little predicament.”
But before you could reply Sam, Rhodey, and Bucky all came running into the lab practically running over each other.
“Okay, I’ve wanted wanted to know. How do you feel really about Redwing?” Sam asked pushing Rhodey and Bucky aside.
“I think you should find a girlfriend so you stop obsessing over a high tech piece of metal.” You said with an unholy amount of sass, already sick of this treatment. Bucky burst out laughing but you sent a pissed off glare his way.
“Don’t think you’re safe either beefcake. You’re 106 years old and still can’t take a joke, not to mention that you’re forgetful as fuck. I mean who the hell just forgets that they have a vibrium arm? I’m not even going to get started on that staring problem you have that you think is so intimidating.” You snapped, shutting everyone in the room up. Before leaving you locked eyes with Rhodey.
“Oh hi Ego Machine! Don’t worry, I didn’t forget about you. I mean who could when you tell that story of how you dropped a tank at the generals feet every single party? I mean, BOOM were you looking to be interesting?”
After shutting every one in that room down you stormed out and locked yourself in your room. You really could tell if you had taken truth serum or just a liquid curse. You never left your room for the rest of the night, not wanting to risk dinner with the team. But you woke up around 5:30 in the morning to. Very strong feeling of hunger, and prayed no one else would be up this early as you snaked down into the kitchen. You walked past Wanda sleeping quietly on the couch as Vision floated peacefully in the corner.
“Creepy motherfucker…” you whispered as you stepped into the kitchen
“What was that you said about my husband?” Wanda said, suddenly on the other side of the counter looking at you with a tilted head. You jumped almost spilling your cereal
“Jesus Christ Wanda! A warning!” You said clutching your head with one hand and the cereal box with the other. But she only looked at you and smiled mischievously
“You can ask anything you want but you’re not allowed to be upset by the answer” you stated plaining, pouring some milk into your bowl.
“Are you talking about the truth serum you took yesterday?” Wanda asked, tilting her head at you.
“Yeah, it might not wear off for another 24 hours. Everyones been dying to find how I ‘really’ feel about them since Tony ran his big mouth and told everyone about this stupid serum I drank.”
“You do remember I can read minds, right? I always know when someone’s telling the truth or lying, I just don’t always call them on it.”
“Right.” You said quietly as you stuffed your face with cereal so you could go back to your quarters as soon as possible.
You sat alone in your room unbothered for the next few hours, until you heard a rock at your door.
“Don’t come in! Go away!” You shouted turning the page of your book assuming whoever was on the other side of your door would kindly fuck off. But as a tall man with a mop of silver hair entered your room you sighed dramatically and threw your book at him, missing spectacularly.
“I could’ve sworn I said to NOT come in.” you said as you crossed your arms over your chest, looking at the ever so muscular man making his way over to your bed.
“And when’s the last time I took orders from you?” Pietro said with a smile.
“You never take orders from anyone, I’m surprised you haven’t been kicked off the team yet honestly.” You spat, bitter that he wasn’t respecting your wishes to be left alone. A pit of nerves also started to grow in your stomach the closer he came to you knowing how you really felt about him, and that if he asked there’d be nothing stopping you from telling him the truth.
“Ah, you wound me dragâ.” Pietro says as he mockingly clasps his hands over his heart as if you’d shot him. You just rolled your eyes in response.
“The team tells me you’ve become somewhat of a bitch since yesterday, is that true?” He asked, sitting down at the foot of your bed.
“I’m not a bitch, Tony just tricked me into drinking some of Banner’s experimental truth serum. But you already knew that didn’t you? Either way, spoiler alert. The stupid serum works and probably won’t wear off for another 12 hours. Besides, I’m only a bitch to the team members I don’t like.” Your eyes widened realizing what you just admitted to Pietro
“I suppose that’s true, Wanda did tell me you weren’t too bad when she ran into you this morning.” Pietro said scooting up next to you in bed, normally you’d tell him to fuck off before he got too close so he would know how much you loved being in his arms but when he asked
“Is this okay?” As he stretched his arms over your shoulders pulling you into his chest
“Yeah, I love it when you hold me. Or just touch me in general, always makes me feel like I’m on cloud nine.” The confession just spilled right out of your mouth, causing you to once again to clasp a hand over your lips to prevent you from saying anything else.
Pietro looked down at you with a shocked eyes but a smug smile, deciding to push his luck he asked “Then why do you always push me away and tell me to fuck off anytime I hug you?”
“Becwagh wi dwomt vhmnf to nmfh…” you said, keeping your hand over your mouth to muffle your answer. Pietro shook his head light at you as he took your hand off your lips and held it, gently caressing your knuckles with his thumb
“What was that darling?” He said as he cobalt blue eyes poured into yours. It’s like he already knew how you felt but just needed to hear you say it to confirm his suspicions. Months of pinning after you, and now here was his chance. He had no other choice but to act on it. You swallowed the last bit of pride and fear held in your chest and said
“Because I don’t want you to know how I really feel about you.” The last of your walls came crashing down as you smiled gently at the handsome man before you, he gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear as his faced inched closer to yours.
“And how do you feel about me dragosté?”
“Like you’re the only person in the world I could ever fall in love with.” That was all Pietro needed to push aside his ego hearing how you really felt about him as he leaned down and closed the gap in between the two of you pressing his soft lips to yours. Moving gently with you as his lips slotted perfectly over yours, you breathe in his musky scent as you ran your hand across his chest pulling him closer to you. Sadly it wasn’t long before you both ran out of air and had to pull away
“So how do you feel now?” Pietro asked with a cheeky grin plastered on his lovestruck face
“Like I could kiss your stupid face all day.” You said grabbing the collar of his shirt and pulling him back in for a much more heated kiss.
The rest of your afternoon and week into the evening was spent in Pietros arms sharing soft kisses and fleeting touches. Although admittedly he was sad when the truth serum wore off and he couldn’t ask you any and everything under the sun about how you felt about him.
But you’d end up showing him how you felt in other ways later on ;)
—
A/N
Ahhh here’s my 4th post that will be published while I’m away at camp! Found this little bit in my notes as well and just fleshed it out enough to post! Hope this was enjoyable!
Much Love,
—Skyler
#marvel#age of ultron#au#avengers age of ultron#cute#fan fic#fan fiction#fluff#imagine#love#aou#wandavision#mcu#Pietro#pietro maximoff x y/n#pietro maximoff#pietro maximoff x reader#pietro x y/n#pietro x reader#reader insert#x reader#<3
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Roommates: Part Two
IZ*ONE Hyewon & Eunbi x Male Reader
10875 words
Categories: smut, threesome, oral, rough sex, mommy kink, dirty talk
18+
--
Read on AFF
Read on AO3
“We only have one shot at this. Let’s make it count.”
Detective Kwon took point on the operation. Her primary focus was staring at rows of monitors in the back of a large unmarked van parked stealthily miles away from the destination. Overhead shots were displayed on the largest monitor, giving a full view of the target area - a luxurious white mansion housed the patriarch of the Goda clan, given the information Eunbi received was correct.
You lost track of how many hours you had occupied, only accompanied by Detectives Hyewon, with newly dyed blonde hair and Eunbi inside a hot van, waiting for just the right moment to strike. Your job was to give any details that would be helpful and to help confirm identities.
The surveillance van had more technology in it than your entire University’s expensive computer lab. Extensive audio feeds, LCD monitors everywhere giving as many angles as possible, speakers, and multiple laptops that could power a space station all created the perfect portable setup. Eunbi sat up front, monitoring everything, and aiding in preparation.
“Team one, do you copy?” Eunbi asked over a bluetooth headset she wore on her right ear.
“Yes, boss. We have eyes on the back entrance. Nobody has gone in or out since we’ve been here.”
“Team two, what do you have for me?”
“Can’t see much. There’s been no movement on our end.”
“Keep a lookout. I don’t want anyone getting spooked.”
“Yes, boss.”
“Team three?”
“Our drones are in the air, but the fog is killing visibility. Can’t get a good visual so we’ll have to almost exclusively rely on thermal. ”
“Do what you can.”
“This better work,” Hyewon said, shifting in one of the backseat chairs nervously.
“Dojima has been our information expert for years, he wouldn’t fail us now.”
Eunbi took a long deep breath as she pulled up cameras on two large screens, showing views on both front and back entrances and views of each team awaiting orders.
“On my mark, breach and clear. We want him alive,” Eunbi said.
“Go!”
The simultaneous thud of doors being forced open boomed through the van’s speakers, speeding your heart rate up. The audio feed went silent for a second before being replaced with windows being broken, voices shouting, and inaudible commotion. You expected more. No gunshots, no more yelling. Everything was silent.
“Team one, what’s your status? I need an update.”
Nothing but radio silence filled the van as you collectively held your breath and waited for an answer.
“Detective Kwon, there’s nobody inside. Place looks lived in but it’s been cleared out.”
“Son of a bitch!” Eunbi hissed.
“All rooms are clear, Detective. There’s nobody here.”
“Those motherfuckers set us up. Check for hidden exits. I want this whole place checked.”
“What do we do now?” Hyewon asked.
“We’re back from square one. We figure out they knew we were coming, and where we go from here.”
“Team three, I want you to stay overnight in case they decide to come back. Team one and two you’re dismissed.”
“Understood.”
Eunbi took her headset off and angrily tossed it away, sighing in frustration.
“Sorry I couldn’t be of any use, Detective,” you said.
“Don’t be sorry, if anything you got us to this point to begin with,” Eunbi replied.
“Back to the office?” Hyewon asked.
“No, that’s the last place I want to be right now. It’s late and we’ve been here all damn day. For nothing.”
Eunbi rubbed her temple as she sank back in her chair.
"I've got a cabinet full of alcohol if you wanna crash at my place, boss,” Hyewon said.
Eunbi hesitated before answering, taking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly.
“That sounds like exactly what I need. We’ll deal with this on Monday, let’s get the fuck out of here.”
✦✦
Hyewon keyed in the security code to her place and you and Eunbi followed her inside, slipping shoes off at the entryway. You sat down on the couch next to Hyewon while Eunbi took a moment to look over the place.
“You’ve decorated since the last time I was here,” Eunbi said, wandering and looking aimlessly.
“I have company now, I can’t live like a slob, boss.”
“You really don’t have to call me boss outside of work. Unnie will be fine.”
“Okay, unnie.”
“How has everything been going?” Eunbi asked, directing her attention towards you. “I know we said it would be just for a month, but with everything going on I’m afraid it’s going to be longer. I seem to be really bad at keeping my promises.”
“It was awkward at first, but Hyewon is very easy to talk to and get along with. I won’t mind living longer here, Hyewon has been very accommodating, I’ve even picked up a few cooking tips from her.”
Eunbi smiled. “That’s good to hear. Hyewon loves to cook as much as she loves to eat.”
“She’s really good at eating,” you said.
“Yes, she really is,” Eunbi said with a smirk as she sat down. Hyewon caught on quickly and got up embarrassed, heading into the kitchen to fetch drinks.
“Unnie, what are you in the mood to drink? Beer, wine?”
“Something strong,” Eunbi replied.
“How strong?” Hyewon asked.
“Strong enough to slap me across the face.”
“Uh, we have Tequila. Is that strong enough?”
“Yes, that’s perfect.”
“Ok, but I’m making cocktails, I don’t want anyone to get carried away.”
“Make mine a double then.”
Eunbi drifted her gaze over to you as she sat down and crossed her legs, flashing a flirtatious gaze.
“Have you settled into living with Hyewon?”
“Mostly. There haven't been any troubles at all, she’s very easy to live with.”
“That’s very good to hear, she’s such a sweetie.”
“She is.”
“Unnie, stop being nosy!” Hyewon whined as she brought a tray of drinks and set it down on the black coffee table in front.
“I was just trying to see how you’ve been treating our guest.”
“I have been nothing but an understanding host, isn’t that right?”
“Of course. Hyewon has been wonderful.”
Grabbing a drink and taking your first sip, you coughed at how strong it was, but soon the burn down your throat became refreshing.
“I hope we can find whoever tipped us off,” Hyewon said.
Eunbi rolled her eyes. “Please, can we not talk about work for once?”
Hyewon nodded apologetically. “Sorry, unnie. Of course.”
“This is really good,” you said, taking another large sip.
“It is. Our Hyewon really is multi-talented.”
“It’s not that big of a deal. I learned a few things in culinary school.”
You could feel the collective stress leaving the room as the three of you indulged into the strong drinks Hyewon had prepared. Shaking the glass a few times to evenly spread out the ice you took another drink, getting used to the taste.
“Now that I’m drinking, I guess I should be responsible tonight. I’ll sleep on the couch if that’s okay,” Eunbi said.
“The couch?” Hyewon repeated. “There’s a spare bed, you don’t need to do that, unnie.”
Eunbi tilted her head. “Spare bed? If I remember correctly your place only has two rooms, right?”
“That’s right. Two bedrooms, but we’ve been sharing the bed at night,” she said, as she realized what she was admitting halfway.
“Oh, you have been?” Eunbi laughed. “That explains why you’ve been coming in late more often,” she teased.
Hyewon turned red. “U-unnie! That’s not what I...I’m gonna go make another drink.”
She hastily got off the couch as Eunbi filled in the gap, scooting over as she finished her drink, placing it on the coffee table.
“She’s always been like that.”
“Like what?” you asked.
“Shy and adorable, ever since I met her. We’re all adults here, so there’s no shame in talking about it.”
“Everyone has their limits about what they’re comfortable about I guess.”
“That’s true. I’m just an open book.”
Hyewon returned and refused to make eye contact.
“Ah, Hyewon, I forgot to bring anything to sleep in tonight. Can I borrow some clothes?”
“Clothes? Don’t you usually sleep naked, unnie?” she responded. You nearly choked on your drink.
Eunbi smiled before she responded. “You’re right...but I’m just a guest here. I have to look presentable.”
“Why? He’s already seen you naked before hasn’t he?” Hyewon teased back.
“Guess you got me there,” Eunbi replied with reddened cheeks.
You sat there listening as the two beautiful detectives playfully teased each other back and forth while you nursed your cocktail, trying not to let it hit you all at once. It was tempting to go for another drink given the day's events, wanting to forget the failed operation. Finishing your drink and chewing on a piece of melting ice you rested it on the coffee table.
The living room clock showed it was just after 1 a.m. Still rather early or late in the morning depending on your perspective.
"So, Hyewon,” Eunbi said.
“Yes, unnie?” Hyewon perked up.
“I don’t think we’ve properly thanked our mutual friend for everything he’s done for us.”
Hyewon put her drink down. “We do owe him a lot. Even though nothing went as planned today, we never would have gotten to that point to begin with.”
The two women shared a look that was directed at you. “Keeping me safe is enough thanks, ladies.”
“Oh no, that’s just part of our jobs,” Eunbi said. “I think we personally need to show our appreciation.”
Eunbi began caressing your shoulder, and you were thankful that you had been drinking already.
“You’ve been so helpful, and we should return the favor.”
“That’s not really necessary,” you humbly said.
“Oh, but it really is,” Eunbi said, scooting closer to your body, gesturing for Hyewon to do the same, who changed places to your left side. Syncing their movements each woman moved and straddled one of your thighs as your heart started racing.
Eunbi made the first move, cupping your face and hesitated for a moment. Her gaze lingered on you as she leaned in and your lips merged, filling you with the sweet taste of her as the warmth of her soft lips pressed against your own.
“If you insist, Detective.”
“Detective? That’s much too formal,” Eunbi said as she caressed your hair.
“Eunbi is fine,” she paused. “But what I really like to be called... is Mommy.”
“Oh god, not this again,” Hyewon spoke out in annoyance. “Not everyone wants to call you that.”
“Maybe not everyone...but you’ll call me mommy won’t you?” She asked as she turned her attention towards you.
“I’ll call you anything you want. Mommy.”
Eunbi gave one more kiss against your lips, deeper and with more hunger. Not wanting to be left out, Hyewon tilted your head towards hers and gave you a chaste kiss of her own, the contrast in their lips enticing. Eunbi had thinner lips, Hyewon’s lips were plumper and fuller, while both had an incredible softness and warmth with their own distinctive unique taste.
The two of them looked at you as if deciding what they wanted to do, pondering their moves. Eunbi didn’t need much time as she removed her shirt, and the purple lace bra that covered up her huge full breasts became the focus of your attention.
“You can touch mommy all you want,” Eunbi said and you didn’t need to be told twice, running your hands up her body, feeling the tightness of her toned tummy as your hands wandered on their own to her chest, fondling her massive breasts through her bra.
Not wanting to be outdone, Hyewon removed her own top, her much smaller, but no less satisfying breasts were visible. With a quick movement of her fingers, her bra was unclasped, and bare breasts exposed as she cupped them, enticing you to dive in.
Starting at Hyewon’s sensitive neck you peppered her soft skin in kisses, hearing her softly moan as you moved down her chest, leaving a trail just below her collarbone. Looking into her eyes for a second you squeezed her breasts before bringing your lips to her nipples and sucking, hearing her sweet moans as you sucked on her soft pale tits.
Eunbi couldn’t handle being left out, and out of the corner of your eye you could see her slipping out of her bra, her pale tits exposed stopped you in your path.
“You like mommy’s tits better don’t you?” Eunbi playfully asked, giving out a moan as she pinched her own nipples. You sucked Hyewon’s tits for a few more seconds before hastily switching your interest to Eunbi’s chest.
“Unnie, you’re playing dirty,” Hyewon complained.
“I can’t help what I was born with,” she smirked, proud at how much bigger her breasts were. You planted several kisses on each of her pillowy soft tits and Eunbi ran her fingers through your hair, smiling sweetly. Licking stripes up her cleavage you flicked your tongue against each nipple, teasing each just a bit before sucking on them, letting out a noisy slurp.
“Mmm, baby, that feels good.”
Hyewon looked on patiently, trying to stave off her jealousy. You couldn’t help but moan as you sucked Eunbi’s tits, playing with her sensitive pink nipples and burying yourself into her deep cleavage, a warmth you didn’t dare leave.
“Mommy’s tits are so amazing,” you said, slurping on her hardened nipples and watching her pleasure as you did so, biting them gently as Eunbi gasped in pleasure. Alternating sucking on each of Eunbi’s delicious breasts you kept them in your mouth until her pink nipples became swollen and glazed with your wet saliva, keeping yourself fed with the taste and softness of her flesh and the way her pretty pink nipples fit perfectly in your mouth.
Nothing would keep you from sucking on them, not wanting your mouth to leave them but also not wanting to leave Hyewon out.
You feasted on each pair of scrumptious tits and gave them equal attention, moving back and forth between the delicious chests of each busty woman and didn't want to stop until your lips were numb.
“I still can’t get over how big they are,” Hyewon said, the envy in her voice obvious.
“Yours aren’t that bad either, Hyewon,” Eunbi responded.
“You’re just trying to make me feel better, unnie.”
“I’m not, you agree right, baby?”
“Your tits are really nice too, Hyewon.”
“Nobody can compare to yours though, I can't even fully get my hands on them,” Hyewon pouted.
“It just means there’s more of them to go around,” Eunbi grinned, as if sending an invitation. Both of you teamed up on Eunbi’s tits, each taking one of her swollen breasts in your mouth and sucking, causing deep moans to escape from her. Hyewon was gentle while you devoured Eunbi’s tits, hungrily slurping and biting as if you were trying to satisfy your insatiable hunger for her big milky breasts.
Keeping your tongues and lips all over Eunbi's swollen pink nipples they became drenched in the combination of your saliva, her pretty moans were music to your ears, earning more with each second that passed.
As much as you loved teaming up to taste Eunbi, you soon became their focus, feeling the wet smack of their warm soft lips as each gorgeous woman took their time to kiss you, leaving their taste locked on your lips.
If that wasn’t enough, they turned and playfully kissed each other, leaving you to patiently watch every movement as their lips smacked loudly and both grabbed a handful of each other's supple bare breasts.
The two lustful vixens switched it up and turned the tables on you. Both took a side of your neck and planted their lips on your skin, sucking both sides of your neck deeply with the intention to leave love marks.
The two warm mouths pressed on your neck sucking heavily entranced you into a daze, and you barely felt a hand cupping your crotch, too crippled by their effect on you to see the culprit.
“Mommy can you feel your cock getting hard for us," Eunbi whispered, blowing hot air into your ear that made you shiver.
“We both want to make you feel good,” Hyewon said.
Giving your crotch a good firm squeeze, your lap was soon empty and the action kept on moving right in front of you. Running their hands all over each other's tight bodies, Eunbi made quick work of stripping Hyewon to her panties, and Hyewon returned the favor as they both knelt in front of you, eyeing the bulge in your pants they had created.
With Hyewon to your left and Eunbi to your right, they gave each other a playful look before working together to unbutton your pants, working quickly and yanking them off with your boxers, your hardened shaft introducing itself and throbbing freely.
Eunbi jumped the gun and took the liberty to play with Hyewon’s chest, earning a moan from her as she sucked on her round pale tits, taking her first taste of the night and sending even more blood flowing to your already stiff erection.
"Have some confidence, Hyewon, your tits are yummy."
“Unnie…”
“Now go on, Hyewon, show us what you’ve learned.”
Hyewon nervously smiled and leaned forward, taking your cock into her cold delicate hand and wrapping her fingers around it. She licked it more naturally this time, starting at the base of your shaft and dragging her wet tongue upwards until she reached your swollen tip, swirling around it mindlessly and giving a wet kiss on it.
Eunbi followed her lead, her tongue on one side while Hyewon mirrored the other, both women painting your hard shaft with their wet flattened tongues, before ascending on your tip and licking up against it, causing you to groan.
The two beautiful women on their knees for you wandered their tongues all over your shaft, not missing a spot before syncing back up and licking your swollen head, both hitting all the right spots, their touch driving you crazy.
"F-fuck," you moaned to their delight, going crazy at the intense pleasure already. You felt a hand fondling your balls and jerked abruptly, earning a pretty smile from Eunbi.
"They feel so heavy and full," Eunbi said as she kissed each one, grazing her cute nose against them.
Hyewon looked for approval, meeting the gaze of Eunbi. Without another word Hyewon licked her lips and parted them with your sensitive tip, taking you into her radiating warm mouth.
You moaned loudly at the softness of Hyewon’s plump lips as she sucked your tip gently, eyes looking up. Eunbi watched as Hyewon sucked you off, the pleasure of her wet mouth enveloping your shaft.
“You’re getting good at this," Eunbi said as she smiled. She brought her mouth to your balls, blowing her hot breath against your sack before delicately kissing and licking them.
"I love how sensitive you get," Eunbi said, licking turning into sucking as her soft lips tenderly slurped your balls one at a time, the double pleasure from each woman overwhelming your senses.
Hyewon's lips slid deeper, her tongue licking your underside as Eunbi's lips sucked your balls more forcibly, covering them in saliva as she rested a hand on your thigh, stimulating you more by digging her nails into your skin.
It was as if they were competing to give the most pleasure, not wanting to back down. Eunbi took your cock into her needy familiar mouth, sucking with such force you felt like you might pass out. Hyewon did not keep her mouth empty as she mirrored Eunbi’s earlier movements, gently sucking on your balls, both women eagerly to milk you dry it seemed.
“Fuck...you’re both amazing at this,” you groaned, and you were met with faster movements.
The difference in experience and techniques was immediately apparent. Hyewon's lack of expertise allowed her to take things slowly, but she couldn't take more than half your cock down her throat, instead focusing on sucking you off more sensually.
Eunbi was the opposite, proudly able and willing to take all of your cock down her warm throat, deepthroating with ease and sucked rapidly and messily. Both were pleasurable, and feeling the contrast of both as they switch back and forth, practically fighting over your cock drove you insane.
“Don’t be selfish, unnie, " Hyewon whined as Eunbi devoured your cock down her throat, sliding her lips in long smooth strokes from base to tip, showing off her lack of gag reflex. She was so messy that saliva spilled out of the corners of her mouth and dripped down to her huge tits, the sight arousing you even more.
You held the back of Eunbi's head and pushed her down your base, moaning needily as her throat tightened, slurping on every inch of your shaft while Hyewon kept her mouth full of your heavy balls, trying to learn how best to pleasure them.
"Mommy loves this cock," Eunbi hummed, and in response Hyewon forcibly stole it from her, the elder shooting a deadly look.
"Do you really think you can make him cum with this lousy blowjob?" Eunbi hissed, as she went back to work on your balls, lathering them up with her warm saliva and slurping loudly.
Hyewon sucked faster as a response, moving past her usual threshold and gagging as a result. Eunbi eyed her, watching her take more and more until her lips almost met your base, but retreating at the last moment as she coughed.
"It's okay, Hyewon, not everyone can be as good as me."
Hyewon cursed under her breath, only motivated by her unnie’s pitiful attempts to incite and dove back in. She didn't care how much she gagged, Eunbi wasn't going to show her up. Starting halfway, Hyewon took as much as she could before retreating, reaching a new point each time.
"You must like choking on that dick, huh? You sound really pretty when you gag on it, I think you could use some help though," Eunbi said as she grabbed the younger girl by the head and forced her down your base, increasing her gagging sounds and your pleasure.
Hyewon’s eyes went wide as Eunbi fucked her throat with your cock, not used to her mouth so completely stuffed that she couldn't help feel overwhelmed.
"Breathe through your nose, baby," Eunbi cooed as she roughly shoved her down all the way at the end of your cock, causing you to gasp and groan loudly.
"There we go, that's how you do it. Mommy is a good teacher isn’t she?”
Eunbi smirked as she continued her relentless use of Hyewon’s mouth, not letting up for a single moment, testing her gag reflexes and making her take you as deep as possible until she signaled that she had enough.
"Unnie!" Hyewon yelled as she gasped for air, wiping drool off her chin and using it to jerk off your cock.
"This is what you wanted right? To prove you were better?"
Hyewon ignored her and focused on your cock, licking it wildly.
"Prove it then. Finish him off," Eunbi encouraged.
Hyewon didn't back down even though she couldn't stop herself from gagging, she was determined. Her soft plump lips kissed the end of your base as your cock hit the back of her throat, but she didn’t give up.
"Fuck…Hyewon…"
Hyewon bobbed her head as she worked her magic in between your legs, slurping and sucking the life out of your cock. Eunbi was more than content to take a backseat, gently massaging your balls as she watched on.
"There you go, baby, doing such a good job. Empty those heavy balls and suck him dry," Eunbi demanded.
Hyewon looked straight ahead with a mouth full of cock, her innocent sparkling eyes glued to your own as she was prepared to drain you. Her wet full lips were sealed tight around your shaft, the sounds of her slurping every inch to try and earn your approval was far too much.
"Ah, fuck, Hyewon. I'm gonna fucking cum."
The duo smiled as you felt your limits being hit, your breathing weakening, and your balls tightening.
It wasn’t much longer as you felt your climax arriving, tightly grabbing the back of Hyewon’s head as you throbbed inside her mouth and erupted, flooding her throat with copious amounts of your hot cum.
Your orgasm took over your body as you continued pumping your thick load into the back of Hyewon’s throat, grunting with every spurt that released from your shaft.
Hyewon handled it well at first, but the more you came the more difficult it became for her as your load began spilling out of her mouth, too much for her to contain.
"Amateur," Eunbi said. "You shouldn't waste a single drop of his delicious cum.”
Your intense orgasm mercifully came to a halt and Hyewon's lips squeezed tight around your still throbbing shaft, ensuring everything had been milked out of you.
"There was so much, holy shit," Hyewon said while trying to talk with a mouth full of cum as she removed her lips from your cock, sliding her fingers around your shaft to make sure nothing was left.
"Show it, baby. Show us how much you made him cum."
Hyewon complied as she opened her mouth for all to see, revealing a thick white pool that had been deposited on her tongue.
"Swallow it," Eunbi demanded. It took more than one gulp, but Hyewon tilted her head back in satisfaction and opened her now empty mouth, displaying her wet pink tongue to confirm your load was now inside her stomach.
"Good girl," Eunbi purred as she began cleaning up drops of cum that spilled out of Hyewon’s mouth.
"Mommy has to do this because you couldn't handle such a huge load," she sighed, licking your shaft clean of every spilled drop, taking your tip into her warm mouth and sucking it clean, your sensitivity arousing her.
“How was it?” Eunbi asked as she made sure to not miss anything, jerking your cock off slowly as your body trembled with the aftershocks of your climax.
Taking a moment to catch her breath, she licked her lips before answering. “Yummy.”
Letting go of your cock Eunbi licked her lips and fingers clean, sucking on them lewdly with each one making a loud pop.
"Hyewon and I are going to have some fun in the bedroom. Come join us when you're ready."
✦✦
It took a while to finish gathering your senses, catching your breath as you clutched a pillow to your chest. You rested on the couch for several minutes, waiting for your breathing to stabilize.
Aiding your recovery you downed a glass of ice water in one go, taking another deep breath and as you let it out you heard a sound in the distance that broke the silence. A loud, feminine moan, that you couldn’t quite figure out who the owner was.
The closer you got to the bedroom the louder the moaning got. Opening the door to your room and the bed you shared with Hyewon left you with an empty dark room as you closed the door and headed down the hallway, down into Hyewon’s actual bedroom.
“Oh fuck!” you heard crying out behind the shut door, feeling your heart beating faster as the voice became unmistakable as belonging to Hyewon.
Taking a breath you gently grabbed the handle and turned it as you were greeted with an unforgettable sight.
With just one lamp illuminating the room on the left side of the bed, you walked in to find a set of panties left in the middle of the floor and found Hyewon’s naked body sprawled out and holding on to the headboard for dear life.
Neither of the two women noticed your arrival. Eunbi was too preoccupied with having her head buried in between Hyewon’s naked thighs, rubbing at her core and devouring the writhing blonde.
“Nice of you to join us finally,“ Eunbi said as she held onto Hyewon’s flushed thighs, eating her pussy out like she had skipped an entire week's worth of meals. The sight of Eunbi making Hyewon an absolute mess brought your erection back to full hardness right away.
“Since this bed doesn’t get used anymore I figured it was a good place to start since you two haven’t defiled it yet.”
“Hey!” Hyewon protested, but any further complaints were drowned out by her whimpering moans.
“It’s a shame I left my handcuffs back at work,” Eunbi said. “You’d really be squirming right now.”
Eunbi continued her assault on the younger woman’s body, her tongue deep inside Hyewon’s pussy and lapping up all her juices liberally leaking from her spread thighs.
“Are you just going to stare at my ass all day?” Eunbi asked annoyed.
“Is that an option?” You fired back playfully.
“No. Don’t make me be the only one doing the work here.”
“But you’re doing such a good job, I’d hate to distract you.”
“Enough. Mommy wants that cock.”
It had been far too long since you had fucked Eunbi, and you weren’t going to keep her waiting as you climbed the bed, staring at the view before doing anything else. Kneeling behind her tight round ass you quickly tugged her thong off her full curvy hips, down her toned legs, and tossed it away.
You felt hypnotized by the pink glistening flesh in between her thighs, giving Eunbi’s ass a firm squeeze, her velvety cheeks felt so good against your palms as you lined your cock against Eunbi’s opening, feeling the heat radiating as an invitation.
“U-unnie, that feels so good,” Hyewon moaned, gripping the headboard even tighter. You prepared yourself to enter the oldest of the two busty women, spreading her thick thighs and looking down at her wet pussy that looked so damn inviting.
Running your cock up and down Eunbi’s pink wet slit, you took a deep breath before pushing in slowly and parting her wet flesh with your cock, being met by her intense warmth as you entered Eunbi once more, the feeling of her pussy even better this time.
You groaned needily as your tip disappeared inside Eunbi’s warm walls, and then pushed deeper inside her until you were halfway inside. She looked back, her eyes telling you to get on with it already. In one stroke you used your hips and gave Eunbi what she wanted, your whole shaft was inside her warmth, the slick of her walls gripping tight around your shaft and refusing to let go.
You watched Eunbi make an absolute mess out of Hyewon as you held to her perfect wide hips, slowly began pumping inside her, feeling her pussy swallowing your cock and lighting your senses on fire as you began to fuck her from behind.
Having experienced Eunbi in this position already you knew she liked it rough, giving her plump ass a loud slap as you thrusted deep, using your hips to establish a fast and steady rhythm.
“You’re so fucking tight, mommy,” you said, giving her ass repeated spanks as you began pounding into her pussy, the wet flesh wrapped around your cock squeezing even tighter with every thrust.
Eunbi wasn’t able to moan freely as she slurped and feasted on Hyewon’s delicious pussy, but you could tell from the way her body reacted to you that she was in love with what you were doing to her.
It was hard to comprehend what was happening. Pounding into Eunbi as she ate out another woman was heavenly, and it helped that the same woman was one you had slept with already and had become very close in every sense of the word. Hyewon was certainly dripping between her thighs, but the juices coming out of Eunbi’s tight hole certainly matched the youngest, allowing you to thrust as deep as you needed into the older detective with ease.
It didn’t take long until a trio of moans filled the room, the wet squelch of Eunbi’s hot flesh being driven into harshly caused her body to slam against Hyewon’s sensitive clit, turning her into an even louder, needier mess.
Eunbi felt even tighter than when you had fucked her in the interrogation room, her pussy so hot and tight and wet around you just wanted to ravage her until neither of you could walk in the morning.
"Baby, your cock feels amazing inside me. You like mommy’s tight pussy?" Eunbi asked.
“Y-yes, mommy. You’re so wet. “ you moaned and in response and upped your pace even faster, her pussy gripping your shaft so tightly it almost hurt.
The smack of your hips against Eunbi’s voluptuous ass was the sound you loved to hear, causing her soft flesh to ripple beautifully in time with each thrust, drilling into her with such aggression that caused the bed to shake in protest, earning higher muffled moans from her and giving one more slap on her beautiful ass.
“Mommy loves being spanked, don’t stop baby.”
“Unnie, you’re such a slut,” Hyewon teased, as you gave harsh hits to Eunbi’s soft bottom, trying to leave your handprints on both cheeks.
“Me? Because I know what I like? If I remember you were the one who jerked a guy off you met at work for not even five minutes.”
“Hey! I was curious and he was cute. It’s not my fault.”
“Not so innocent are you, slut?” Eunbi fired back, slurping on her folds and bringing two and then three fingers deep inside her cunt, eating her out without a care in the world other than shutting her up.
“Oh fuck unnie! I-I’m so close,” Hyewon whimpered, holding on to Eunbi’s head, desperately chasing her orgasm as she rocked her hips against her face, only encouraging Eunbi to furiously rub and slurp on her clit.
“Oh god..u-unnie, I’m cumming!”
With Hyewon practically screaming Eunbi’s name, you continued drilling Eunbi’s tight pussy, sending waves of pleasure through her all the way to Hyewon’s body as her thighs quivered around Eunbi’s face, as her toes curled and she came hard all over Eunbi’s pretty face.
Eunbi licked up everything that leaked between her legs, cleaning her folds and licking every inch of her stained thighs before Hyewon gently pushed her away off her.
“U-unnie, you’re so good at that,” Hyewon breathlessly said.
“I’m good at everything I do, baby,” she confidently smirked.
“Now rest up, Hyewonie,” she said as she looked behind her. ”As good as you feel inside me, mommy wants to ride your face.”
You didn’t want to retreat from the comforting warmth of Eunbi’s pussy, but given the alternative was having your face warmed with her powerful thighs it was quite worth the sacrifice.
Before using your face as a pillow Eunbi lifted herself into position, giving you a chance to admire every curve and inch of her immaculate beautiful skin as she sat down and locked her warm thighs around your head.
“You’ll make mommy feel good won’t you?”
“Of course. Anything for mommy.”
“Good boy,” Eunbi replied as she pushed her weight down and smothered you with her succulent pussy, her aroma intoxicating you as breathed hot air against her core and explored her folds with your tongue, licking her juices clean.
“Mommy tastes so good,” you moaned as Eunbi gyrated her hips and you felt her delicious juices smearing all over your lips, not missing a drop of her nectar.
While you fucked Eunbi’s tight hole with your tongue, she grabbed onto your head, pulling at your hair to shove you deeper inside her pretty cunt, leaving you sucking and licking her pussy, licking, slurping on her folds to give her the pleasure she deserved.
“That mouth feels so fucking good, baby,” Eunbi said as you looked up at the pleasure you were giving her, feeling her thighs squeezing tighter as she rode your face faster as you explored and stimulated every inch of her pussy.
Meanwhile, Hyewon stirred back to life, and while you alternated between trying to breathe and pleasuring Eunbi, you felt a cold delicate hand squeezing your cock, wrapping tightly around your shaft as she began stroking you slowly.
“I can’t believe you’re still so hard after cumming in my mouth,” Hyewon said, jerking off you at a slow rate.
“We just must turn him on that much,” Eunbi replied, her playful words quickly turned into lustful moans as you drove your tongue deeper into her cunt as her slick continuously leaked into your mouth.
You wondered her sculpted body with your hands while you continued to be smothered by her beautiful thighs. You grabbed onto her wonderful breasts, taking a handful and squeezing, pinching her hard sensitive nipples as she closed her eyes and her breathing hitched.
You could sense the tension in her body as you made out with her pussy, sucking her clit harshly. Juice leaked everywhere, drenching your tongue and lips as she tugged on your hair harder, trying to force you deeper inside her wet hole.
“F-fuck, baby, mommy’s g-gonna-”
Looking up at Eunbi you slurped her pussy loudly, still playing with her tits as you felt her thighs squeezing around your head as they vibrated violently and she came all over your face, gasping and moaning breathlessly as you were drenched in her delicious sweet nectar.
You helped her ride out her orgasm as the grip her thighs had on your head weakened, still trembling and shaking as she looked down between her and giggled at the mess she left deposited all over your face.
"You're so good with that tongue, baby. You made mommy cum so hard."
Eunbi gently climbed off your face and immediately crashed on top of Hyewon, their breasts mashing together as the older initiated a make-out session as you were able to breathe again.
“Now, do you think you can handle that dick?” Eunbi asked.
Hyewon pouted cutely. “Unnie, he’s fucked me before.”
“But you were in control the whole time, and I’m sure he was gentle. Do you think you can take his cock when he’s pounding your tight little pussy with it?”
Hyewon scoffed. “I’ll be fine, unnie.”
“We’ll see. How do you want her, baby?”
You didn’t hesitate for a second before you answered, knowing just how you wanted her.
“Bent over. I want you to watch me fuck her, mommy.”
“I’d be happy to, baby,” Eunbi responded, giving Hyewon one more lustful kiss.
“You heard him, Hyewon. Hands and knees,” Eunbi ordered.
Hyewon obeyed without delay like the innocent pup she who always obediently listened to Eunbi at work, this was no different. Her palms and knees placed flat on the black silk sheets, Hyewon laid her head down, lifting her scrumptious ass in the air.
She wasn’t as curvy as Eunbi, her thighs were a bit slimmer but her skin was just as soft, and her body wasn’t lacking in any way. Hyewon’a pussy was tighter, something Eunbi would kill you for saying had you the courage to admit it.
You could taste Hyewon’s anticipation as you lined your shaft up with her pussy, her pink pussy ready and waiting to be filled. As you ran your cock through Hyewon’s soft wet folds, you gasped at the feeling of her wet flesh as you pushed against it, groaning at how tight she was as you entered her pussy.
Pushing in deeper and earning a loud needy moan, you felt the tight clench of her walls squeezing the life out of your cock. Hyewon’s much tighter pussy and lack of experience being penetrated meant you really had to take your time so you didn’t hurt her, but you had a feeling she was going to enjoy the fucking she was about to take.
“She’s fucking tight isn’t she?” Eunbi asked, positioning herself behind your body as she draped an arm around your chest.
“She is. I feel like I can barely fit.”
"The first time I fingered her I could barely slip one finger inside. Make sure you stretch out her nice and wide.”
“I will, mommy.”
Not wanting to disappoint either woman you pushed in deeper, parting Hyewon’s pussy wider as half of your length rested inside. When she was on top it was easy for her to take as much as she wanted to, but being bent over in this vulnerable position you felt there was much more resistance, her almost uncomfortable tightness struggling to take you all in.
“F-fuck, you’re so big,” Hyewon cried out, as she tried adjusting to your length, Eunbi smirking proudly at the struggle she was facing already.
“He is right? Are you sure you can handle him? He’s going to be able to fuck you much deeper in this position.”
“Unnie, shut up. I can handle it,” Hyewon snapped back.
“Well, you heard her. Fuck her, baby.”
Not even letting your cock enter the deepest part of her pussy, you placed your hands on her soft supple asscheeks and you established a gentle rhythm, using your hips as you slowly fucked Hyewon from behind, her wet walls squeezing you with the tightest grip possible.
“Oh fuck…” she moaned loudly.
“Take it nice and slow,” Eunbi whispered into your ear. “And when you think she’s ready, fucking pound her.”
“Yes, mommy.”
Encouraged by her instructions, you took things at a slow pace, savoring her wet flesh wrapping around your shaft, Hyewon whimpered and whined and moaned needily as you pumped slowly inside her.
“How’s that pussy feel, baby?” Eunbi asked as she began peppering your neck with delicate soft kisses.
“It feels really good, mommy.”
Even halfway inside Hyewon felt so tight and warm, her heavenly soft flesh squeezing your cock as you gave short, shallow thrusts, building up the pace.
“You feel so good inside,” Hyewon moaned, as you moved your hands to her hips, watching your cock disappearing between her supple ass. With every thrust it became easier to move in and out of Hyewon, stretching her tight little hole little by little, making her wetter at the same time.
Words couldn’t describe how tight Hyewon felt, even after a few minutes of moving in and out her she still was a tight fit, her exceptionally tight pussy suffocating your shaft. You used your fingers to rub at her clit, creating whinier moans to escape her lips as you created more wetness around your shaft, aiding your penetration.
Soon after you were able to stretch her out enough to be able to take more of you, and you let out a satisfied grunt as you fully entered her, bottoming her out with your cock as you withdrew, leaving half of you impaled inside her tight warm cave.
“H-harder,” Hyewon softly whimpered, her words barely audible.
“What was that?” Eunbi asked.
“I-I want to be fucked harder,” Hyewon said.
“Speak up, baby, we can’t hear you.”
Hyewon took a deep breath. “Harder. Fuck me. Harder,” she said, every word this time crystal clear.
“You heard her, baby. Go wild.”
You hadn’t heard a better set of words all day. Growing frustrated with the slow tedious pace, you were happy to be able to fuck Hyewon at your whim, quickly settling into a much more natural pace that you were used to.
Hearing the pleasurable sounds of flesh against flesh as your hips smacked against Hyewon’s ass, you took advantage of being able to freely fuck her, squeezing her hips as you slammed into her tight hole.
Hyewon scrambled to grab handfuls of the sheets as you opened her up, her moans increased alongside your speed.
“She said she can take it, baby, so make her take it. Every inch.”
You grabbed onto Hyewon’s arms and pulled them behind her, holding her delicate wrists as you fucked her hard from behind, her body being pulled upright just a bit as you went wild and hammered into her cunt.
You made sure to be deep as possible in this position, as Hyewon’s ass jiggled with every thrust as did her breasts, her cheeks clapping together rhythmically as her whines and whimpering moans grew louder and deeper as did the harsh smacking of flash together.
Eunbi swung your head around so she could plant deep kisses on your lips, taking some of the focus away as you pounded away into Hyewon’s pussy, pistoning your hips without a care as sweat began dripping down your forehead.
“Keep pounding her, baby. Don’t stop fucking our little slut until she can’t walk straight tomorrow.”
You felt Hyewon tighten at Eunbi’s use of the word slut and wanted to test it out yourself.
“Do you like when I fuck you this deep, baby?” you asked.
After moments of groans and gasping Hyewon responded. “Y-yes, your cock feels so big inside me. I feel so filled.”
“You like being fucked like a slut?”
Hyewon tightened again. “I-i’m not a slut! Not like, Unnie-” she protested.
“You’re not? If I remember correctly you sucked my cock the first week I moved in here.”
“It was because you were always hard in the morning! I felt bad for you.”
Eunbi laughed. “Felt bad, or felt horny?” she said.
“U-unnie! I’m not a slut!”
“That’s not what your body says right now. I can feel how fucking wet you are, Hyewon. Your tight little pussy loves my cock.”
“I-i just wanted to help out. To return the favor, that’s all-”
“Then you won’t mind if I stop fucking you and fuck Eunbi instead?”
“N-no! Please! I’m already close, please don’t stop!”
You dropped her arms and they collapsed against the mattress. “Admit it then.”
“I-i can’t, I’m not-”
You slowed down your pace considerably, Hyewon whimpered even more.
“P-please, baby! I’m almost there.”
“Then maybe you should admit it. We both know you’re not as innocent as you pretend you are,” Eunbi said.
Hyewon pondered for a moment as you barely moved inside her. “Fine. I-I’m a slut. I loved sucking your cock in the morning, and I loved when you came inside me.”
“Was that so hard?” Eunbi asked. “Do you want him to cum inside you again?”
“Y-yes!”
“Then tell him, baby.”
“P-please cum inside me! I want you to pound me and fill my tight little pussy!” Hyewon begged.
You smirked and resumed your harsh pace, running your hands up her tight sweaty body and cupping her breasts, squeezing them and feeling her hard nipples brushing against your palms as you drilled yourself into her.
“I’m gonna cum!” Hyewon abruptly said as you felt her walls squeezing you the tightest they ever had.
“Then fucking cum,” you growled impatiently in response.
You took a bit of pride in seeing Hyewon like this, her innocent demeanor completely broken down and replaced with lustful desire and need.
With your hands full of her wonderful warm breasts, you felt her pussy pulsating around you and Hyewon screamed as she came all over your cock, her voice hitting an octave you didn’t even think it could go as her juices saturated her thighs, your shaft, and the bedsheets underneath. So much for not defiling the bed, you thought to yourself with a snicker.
Her body weakly shook as the aftershocks fired off like bullets, each wave of pleasure threatening to make her whole body collapse.
“Your turn, baby. You better fill her up,” Eunbi demanded.
You were already on the brink, and with Eunbi’s words along with the look of desperation Hyewon shot at you, there wasn’t much you could do to hold out. Teetering on the verge of exhaustion, you gave everything you had as you hooked both of Hyewon’s arms and brought her upright, feeling her sweaty back pressed up against your chest as you pounded her pussy.
“Take it all, baby. Take all my cock you fucking slut,” you hissed, the words seemingly appearing out of nowhere as you buried yourself deep inside Hyewon’s dripping cunt. Without anything to grab on to, Hyewon was at your mercy, fucking her with the last remaining shred of energy you had, your carnal desires fueling your urge to absolutely ruin her.
Without another word you came inside Hyewon, feeling a sense of relief as you sent your thick hot cum inside her, throbbing and groaning with every single spurt until she was pumped full of your plentiful load.
“You did so well,” you whispered to Hyewon weakly, as you released her and she collapsed to the bed in front and you followed as you pulled out, your sticky cum staining her thighs as you equally gasped for air.
"Look how much you came, baby," Eunbi said as her view was on the semen dripping out of Hyewon as you crashed on the side of the bed next to her, struggling to breathe with any kind of regularity.
"Don't move a muscle, Hyewon," Eunbi ordered, as she bent down between her thighs, and began licking her clean.
"U-unnie," Hyewon softly whimpered as Eunbi cleaned up the mess you had just left inside her, slurping your load directly from Hyewon’s freshly fucked pussy and greedily swallowing it all, rekindling the fire in your loins and bringing you back to full hardness, something Eunbi took notice of.
“Don’t relax yet, baby. You still need to give mommy your cum.”
Hyewon crashed to her side exhausted as you laid down in anticipation of what Eunbi had planned.
"Mommy wants to ride that cock," Eunbi said as she pounced on your body and you felt her naked thighs straddling your waist, caressing your sweat misted skin and smiling sweetly.
"Just relax and let mommy do all the work."
Her gaze relaxed you as she kissed you again, this time more lustfully, biting your lower lip and holding on. She grabbed your cock, slickened with the juices of both women and stroked it carefully, teasing her silky wet folds with it.
“You’re still throbbing for me, baby. Does mommy turn you on this much?”
“Yes, mommy. You’re so sexy.”
“I’m glad you think so, baby,” Eunbi said shyly, still teasing her warm flesh with your leaking cock.
“What do you like about me, baby?”
“Your pretty eyes. Your sexy hips. Your amazing tits. Your soft thighs. I love everything about you, mommy.”
Eunbi blushed. “You’re so sweet, baby. I hope you still have some cum stored up in those balls. Mommy wants to ruin you.”
“Please do, mommy.”
With your tip still aimed at her tight entrance, Eunbi lifted her hips up and slowly sank down onto your cock, parting her wet flesh and impaling herself. She took the first few inches of your shaft at first, and then slipped every part of you inside her with ease as if showing off and moaning freely at being so full.
“Oh fuck, baby,” Eunbi moaned loudly, resting her delicate soft hands on your chest. You grabbed onto her waist and stared at her magnificent figure, your mouth drooling over every sinful curve of her body so sculpted to perfection as you eagerly anticipated her next move.
“You’re so wet, mommy.”
“All because of you, baby,” Eunbi replied with a charming smile as she began slowly moving her hips, taking you in and out of her body at a delicate pace. Your mind went numb at the warmth and tightness enveloping your shaft, her pussy gripping on tight as if to tell your cock it wasn’t going anywhere but inside her.
Eunbi threw her head back as her pace increased and she created a steady rhythm, rolling her hips as she rode your cock, taking you to the hilt with every bounce. She was in control in more ways than one, not for her comfort but for yours, only giving as much pleasure as she dictated you needed.
With her pretty hands still resting upon your chest, her nails began digging into your skin as the look in her eyes became more devilish.
“Mommy loves your cock,” she said as she picked up the pace, her warm thighs smacking against yours, as you felt mesmerized by the way her huge breasts bounced.
Eunbi grew tired of her sensual nature and began slamming herself against your shaft, her tight cunt dripping juices each time she was filled to the hilt, She became more and more aggressive by the second, leaning her body forward to kiss and lick your neck before blowing hot air in your ear.
“Hyewon might get to fuck you while you live together, but mommy owns this cock. She’s just borrowing it when I’m not around.”
“It belongs to you, mommy.”
“Don’t either of you forget that,” she said as she violently rode your cock, her warm skin slapping against your own flesh as her cunt was repeatedly penetrated as deep as possible, riding with vigor as her ass plump bouncing wildly against your cock.
“Mommy needs these balls drained, baby. You’ll give mommy your cum, won’t you?”
“Y-yes, mommy. I’ll do anything you ask.”
“Anything?”
“Yes, mommy. Anything.”
“What if mommy wants to keep riding you after you cum?”
“Then mommy can keep riding me as long as she wants.”
“You’re a good boy, aren’t you?” Eunbi asked as she grabbed your hands and placed them on her tits. You nodded and squeezed them both, playing with her hard nipples with your fingers.
“You like mommy’s tits, don’t you?”
“I love them. Your tits are so amazing, Mommy.”
Liking what she heard, Eunbi grabbed the back of your head and brought her chest to your face, smothering you with her delicious breasts. The soft flesh of her heavy tits against your face felt so comforting and heavenly, you never wanted them to leave.
“Oh fuck, baby, mommy might cum soon.”
You loved every moment, every sensation sent through your body. You didn’t mind Eunbi using you to get off, you wanted nothing more but to please her.
Eunbi rode you so hard that you were sure the bed was going to break, clearly enjoying vigorously using your cock.
“Unnie, don’t break him,” Hyewon teased as she rested her tired body up against Eunbi, burying her face into the crook of her neck.
“All rested up for round two?” Eunbi asked. Hyewon tiredly shook her head.
“No, I just wanted to play with these,” Hyewon said as she felt up her chest, cupping her breasts softly and giving a gentle squeeze, stealing the large mounds from the comfort of your face and into her own hands.
“Don’t be selfish, Hyewon,” Eunbi said. The two exchanged saliva as their lips met and tongues clashed, Hyewon giving into the older woman.
Eunbi’s juices vigorously flowed out of her cunt, the added stimulation of Hyewon’s hands exploring her chest, pinching her nipples brought her new uncontrollable pleasure that she couldn’t hold back any longer.
“Is mommy going to cum?” Hyewon asked, surprising the room by warming up to the use of Eunbi's insistent title.
“I am,” Eunbi softly said, laughing at Hyewon’s use of the word.
“Cum for us, mommy,” Hyewon innocently said, and it seemed to trigger Eunbi’s second climax of the night as she slipped into a euphoric trance as all her senses were shaken, tightening around your cock and leaking enough juices to almost slip out of her.
Once she came down from her high, you felt the enthusiastic bounce of her hips as she intended to draw out your own climax as Hyewon still clung to her body.
“I forgot how needy you are after you cum,” Eunbi teased. “I-i’m not-” Hyewon protested, proving the opposite as she kissed Eunbi’s shoulders.
“Are you close baby?” Eunbi asked as she grabbed your hands and interlocked your fingers with hers, pinning your arms above your head. “If not you will be,” she smirked.
“Cum inside mommy,” she demanded as she gave her all, slamming herself down with the only intention to drain you. Her hair was out of place, sweat dripping all over her body, making her jiggling breasts look even more appetizing, she had never looked sexier. Eunbi was in total control of you, and you were going to finish inside her whether you wanted or not, not that you ever would have rejected that idea.
You laid there helplessly as Eunbi rode your cock without mercy, her sweaty thighs slapping against your own as you struggled to gather your senses, waiting for the inevitable as the pressure in your abdomen grew.
“M-mommy, I’m gonna cum,” you cried out, every syllable difficult to form as they left your lips. Her eyes lit up in anticipation. You didn’t hold on anymore, not that you could, but you stared into Eunbi’s eyes and the lustful look that demanded your release sent you over the edge.
“Cum for mommy,” she said as if those three seductive words were the final bit of permission you needed. You groaned needily as your throbbing cock exploded inside her, filling up her walls as she drained the final spurts of cum left just for her, somehow equally as much as you had given Hyewon.
“Such a good boy,” she said as she kissed your forehead. You wondered if she was going to keep going, keeping you to your word of not stopping but mercifully she seemed satisfied.
Giving you a few moments to rest she slowly and gingerly lifted her body off of your cock an inch at a time, the three of you watching the dripping thick load leaked between her thighs, the result of your combined juices seeping out.
Hyewon looked in awe. “I can’t believe you can still cum so much. “
“I have that effect on people,” she proudly boasted. You laid there barely able to move, twitching as you felt their mouths returning to your cock, lips and tongues cleaning up your shaft and running all over your drained balls.
Moments after you passed out from exhaustion.
✦✦
The morning after was a blur. You arose before anyone else, still wondering if the night before was a wonderful dream that you unfairly never acted out. The mess of stained sheets and naked limbs surrounding you and the weight of both gorgeous women perched on your chest thankfully meant everything became a reality, but you still pinched yourself just in case.
"Good morning…" you heard a voice softly say sleepily.
"Good morning, mommy," you responded as you saw Eunbi waking up.
"I love when you call me that," she said as she left sweet tender kisses on your chest. "It turns me on so much."
"Did you sleep well, mommy?" you asked, repeating the word.
"I did, baby, thanks to you. I'm still wet though, just thinking about you."
Eunbi’s pretty fingers ran through out of place strands of your hair, playing with them.
"And it looks like you're excited this morning thinking about mommy," she said as she grabbed your cock and stroked slowly. You moaned at her touch and she smiled devilishly.
"Maybe mommy should jerk you off right here."
"We shouldn't wake her."
"Hyewon? She'll be out for a while, you really did a number on her."
"Still, I'd hate to disturb her."
"How about a quickie in the shower while she rests?” Eunbi asked.
"Now that's a great idea." You carefully removed yourself from underneath Hyewon, trying not to wake her. Eunbi literally grabbed you by the dick and led you to the bathroom, letting the water get as hot as it could before stepping inside.
You didn’t know what it was about both women that seemed to love their scalding hot showers, but you weren’t going to question it given the view in front of you.
Not long after you wettened you hair, Eunbi turned the shower into her own erotic show as she soaped up her voluptuous body and lathered up her massive tits. Knowing you couldn’t divert your eyes she played with her own nipples, pinching and pulling on them as she moaned and you quickly felt yourself growing hard as a rock.
“You like watching mommy get clean?” Eunbi asked as she bit her lip. Before you could answer the shower door opened and Hyewon joined the fun.
“Hey! You started without me,“ she frowned.
“You looked so peaceful, we didn’t want to wake you,” Eunbi said.
"Nice excuse, unnie. You just wanted his cock to yourself."
"You caught me red-handed. And what happened to mommy?"
Hyewon blushed and turned shy.
“Just clean me, " Eunbi said.
You couldn’t help but feel they were teasing you, soaping up each other's bodies and kissing each other at the same time as the water ran down their flushed skin. As always, Eunbi felt the need to up the ante, using her knee to spread Hyewon’s wet thighs and grinding against her core.
“F-fuck, mommy-” Hyewon moaned.
“You wanna ride mommy’s thigh don’t you, baby?”
“Y-yes, mommy,” she desperately responded, trying to force any bit of friction she could against Eunbi’s muscular toned thigh. Eunbi allowed it for a few moments, finding it cute how needy she always was as she brought her fingers to her breasts, playing with Hyewon’s swollen sensitive nipples before grabbing her hips and ceasing her movements.
“You shouldn’t cum before our guest does,” Hyewon whined but didn’t voice a complaint.
She grabbed Hyewon by the ass and pulled her towards her body, their wet soapy breasts mashing together.
“Hyewon.”
“Yes, mommy?”
“Follow my lead.”
Eunbi knelt on the shower’s tile floor, Hyewon quickly followed, both stroking your cock. Eunbi angled her body to the side as the water ran over your chest. Soaping up her tits even more, she grabbed your cock and placed it in between her soapy cleavage, wrapping her breasts around your shaft.
She didn’t move yet, and Hyewon caught on quickly, matching her position on the opposite side with her wet breasts smothering the other side of your shaft. You realized what exactly was about to happen, and nothing could prepare you for it.
They flashed each other a look, and the moment they started moving together you absolutely lost it as they created friction, sandwiching your cock in between the heavy warm flesh of their tits.
“Holy fuck,” you moaned, and they both let out gasps at the result of their sensitive nipples grinding against each other. As if that weren’t enough, Eunbi leaned in to take a kiss from Hyewon who returned her advances, as the two messily sucked each other's faces.
You had no doubt in your mind that this is what heaven was like.
“Like that, baby?” Eunbi said.
“You have no fucking idea.”
They both giggled and watched as you lost your mind even more. You didn’t dare close your eyes for a second, keeping your eyes glued to the way their perfect tits assaulted your cock, struggling to keep your composure as the intense pleasure spiked through every bit of your body.
“Fuck, I’m not gonna last very long.”
“Mommy wouldn’t expect you to.”
Just a few more moments was all you could handle, the warmth of both of their breasts squeezing and massaging your cock was too much. You throbbed in between them as you groaned loud enough to echo around the shower walls as you filled up their cleavage with cum and painted their pretty faces and they proudly wore your warmth on their features.
The two shared a series of giggles before Eunbi licked your sticky warmth off Hyewon’s face, the younger returning the favor before licking each other's faces clean, kissing each other with cum-stained lips and eagerly swapping your load.
They kissed your depleted shaft as you weakly leaned yourself against the shower’s cold tiles, forcing your eyes open as Hyewon rode Eunbi’s thigh to completion and Eunbi gushed all over Hyewon’s slim fingers in a matter of moments.
The three of you dressed and dried off in relative silence, recovering from the events of the past 24 hours.
“What happens now? With the case?” you asked.
“We don’t exactly know ourselves. We’ll have to figure out what happened, what went wrong, and if our information was inaccurate. This is a huge setback,” Eunbi said.
“We’ll be spending most of next week recovering from this. And we were so close too,” Hyewon frustratedly said.
“It can’t be helped, these things happen sometimes and we’ll have to prevent it from happening again,” Eunbi reassuringly replied.
“No more talk about work. How about some breakfast, Hyewon?”
“Right away. How does pancakes sound?”
“Amazing,” you said.
“Make an extra batch. We’re going to need to save up our energy for later.”
✦✦
“Hey. It's me. No, they don’t have any idea. Fucking idiots. Their operation was a failure in every possible way.”
“No, it was thanks to you too, boss. Yes, the account number is still the same. I can’t show you my gratitude enough, I’ll be able to pay off these fucking loans finally. “
“I’m not sure, I’m sure they’re scrambling like chickens with their head cut off. I’ll be able to find out more on Monday. Yes, I’ll be careful. I’ll see you in a week. “
#kpop smut#izone smut#hyewon smut#eunbi smut#male reader#reader insert#eunbi#hyewon#izone#kpopfanfic#kpop fanfiction
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Fresh Start - Prologue
Ethan x MC
Summary: After going through her own personal trauma, Dr. Naomi Valentine packs up and sets her sights on Boston. But a new job in a new city comes with its own set of challenges and drama.
A/N: I honestly have no idea why this plot popped into my head, but where we are. Part of this chapter borrows from Ethan and MC’s very first encounter in chapter 1, with some very minor tweaks.
As always, let me know if you want to be tagged or untagged. And enjoy!
Tags: @fanmantrashcan @ao719 @x-kyne-x @colourmeshy @writinghereandthere @paulfwesley @ramseyandrys @a-i-n-a-a-s-h @perriewinklenerdie @aworldoffandoms @thatcatlady0716 @drakewalker04 @canknot @hatescapsicum @lapisreviewsstuff @senseofduties @badchoicesposts @ethandaddyramsey @the-soot-sprite @chasingrobbie @zodiacsign1 @choices-lurker @miyakokurono @trappedinfandoms @my-heart-beats-for-ya @adrian-motherfucking-raines @riverrune @edith-eggs1 @thatysn @bellcat2010 @theeccentricbibliophile @cecilecontrera @junehiratas @choices-love-affair @openheart12 @kaavyaethanramsey @caseyvalentineramsey @desmaranj @mal-volaris @whatchique @nazario-sayeed @aestheticartwriting @mvalentine @nooruleman
~v~
Don’t get married at 19, they said. Don’t spend the best years of your life tied down to someone else, they said. This will be the biggest mistake of your life, they said.
They were all right.
If you would’ve told Naomi that her husband of 9 years was going to cheat on her with his receptionist and knock her up, she would’ve laughed. But fate laughed harder.
She’s Naomi freaking Valentine – thank God she never changed her last name. She’s brilliant, she’s an attending at one of the best hospitals in Washington D.C, and she comes from one of the most prominent families in this city, but none of that even matters. Because it’s Friday night and she’s currently at home, watching trashy television, crying into her couch cushion.
At first there was the unbridled rage that threatened to consume her from the inside out. Leading up to the divorce, she felt like she was always on the brink of exploding. She wanted to kill her husband, his stupid mistress, his slimy divorce attorney, and anyone else who dared cross her path.
But now that the divorce papers are signed, now that all of the air has been deflated from her, all she feels is overwhelming sadness.
Divorce sucks. It’s a pretty well known fact, but everyone else feeling the same way doesn’t negate her feelings. She’d rather get split down the middle and turned inside out than ever go through something like this ever again. She’s strong, but she’s not strong enough to endure this type of battle more than once.
She’s too wrapped up in her own feelings, she doesn’t notice the front door of her condo opening and closing. But the sound of heels clinking against her wood floors is enough to pull her out of her own thoughts.
“You weren’t answering my calls, darling.”
The vivacious voice of Dorinda Valentine booms throughout the condo. Naomi looks up and sees her mother standing a few feet away. She has Tupperware in her hands.
“Yeah, I turned my phone off.”
“I figured.”
“What’s in the Tupperware, mama?”
“I made you some chicken stir fry. I think it’s safe to assume you haven’t eaten anything today.”
It’s a correct assumption. On any other day, Naomi would devour anything her mother put in front of her face, but now, the thought of food makes her stomach turn.
She shakes her head. “I’m not hungry.”
“You’re a doctor, Naomi, you know better than anyone that you should be eating.” Dorinda stares at the tall bottle of vodka on the coffee table. “And just because vodka is made from potatoes, it still doesn’t count.”
Naomi doesn’t respond. She just turns her head and burrows further into the couch.
Dorinda stands there for a few moments, observing her daughter. It’s a depressing sight, one she isn’t used to. If she could take the pain from Naomi and somehow transfer it to herself, Dorinda would do it in a heartbeat.
“Okay.” Dorinda drops her purse to the floor and sets the containers down on the coffee table. She walks to the couch. Grabbing Naomi by the shoulder, she roughly yanks the younger woman. Naomi rolls over and drops to the ground with a thud.
“Mom!” Naomi looks at her mom with a scowl. “Why did you do that?”
“It’s been 2 weeks since you and Daniel signed the divorce papers. I have given you plenty of space and opportunity to mope around in the dark, but I think it’s time for the pity party to end.”
“2 weeks is not nearly enough time to simply get over the past 9 years.” Naomi argues as she stands up and dusts herself off.
“I know you’re hurt–”
“No offense, but you and daddy have been married for thirty years, and last time I checked, I don’t have any half siblings conceived within that time, so you cannot fathom my hurt, so you can just skip over any platitudes that might be brewing.”
Dorinda raises an eyebrow. “You’re upset, so I’m going to ignore your wildly inappropriate and condescending tone, and give you a one time pass.”
“I’m sorry,” Naomi murmurs, flopping back down on her couch. She averts her mother’s gaze because she can feel the older woman staring daggers at her. “I’m just very...out of sorts these days, like I’ve been hit by a bus and then put on a rollercoaster.”
“Now I may not understand divorce, but I can empathize with what you’re feeling.” Dorinda sits down next to Naomi.
“I know everyone thought I was crazy to marry Daniel in the first place, and I’m so sure there's no love lost on your part, but I really went into this with the best intentions. And I thought he did too.”
Dorinda runs her thumb across Naomi’s cheek, collecting a falling tear. “People suck, and life is full of crappy people who do crappy things. And I’m sorry that you had to be a victim to one of them.”
Naomi chuckles humorlessly. “That’s one way to put it.”
“I’m sure it feels like the easiest thing in the world to curl into a ball and stay holed up in this apartment, but you are so much stronger than that. And Daniel Thompson does not deserve the right to reduce you to this. If you want to mope on this couch for the rest of your life, then you do it on your own accord, not because of him. But in my personal opinion, I think you’re too wonderful to become a piece of furniture.”
“What do you suppose I do?” Naomi challenges with a shrug. “I don’t how to do anything other than be his wife.”
“Well, that’s not true at all. But first, you’re going to take a shower, crack open a window to let some fresh air in, and then you’re going to do something that helps you vent. Rip a pillow, scream, scratch Daniel’s face out of his pictures, whatever you want. And then you and I are going to sit on this couch and have a very good cry. And I mean an all out, snotty nose, puffy eyes, sore throat type of cry.”
Getting off of this couch sounds like a feat within itself, one that Naomi doesn’t know if she has the strength or energy to do.
“That’s the first step,” Dorinda says, playing with a strand of Naomi’s hair. “That’s the hard part, but once you do that, I promise it gets easier. You just have to trust yourself and put one foot in front of the other, okay?”
A heavy silence falls on the room and Dorinda waits on bated breath for her daughter to respond. She’s never seen Naomi like this, the life completely drained out of her.
Naomi’s voice comes out small and unrecognizable, but she answers nonetheless. “Okay.”
~v~
One month passes and things finally start progressing for Naomi. She won’t say her life is back to normal, but she’s no longer glued to her couch, so her family considers it a win.
It’s a nice day, so Dorinda forces her to leave the comfort of her apartment and spend the day with her family.
“One of your father’s friends is coming over, so be nice,” Dorinda scolds, passing her daughter a handful of silverware so they can set the dinner table.
“Oh God, mom if this is some politician asking for a donation, I can’t–”
“No politicians,” Dorinda interjects. “Naveen is in Baltimore for a few days, so we invited him to have dinner with us.”
Dr. Naveen Banerji has been friends with Naomi’s dad for as long as she can remember. While Naveen was doing his residency at Sinai Hospital in Baltimore, Steven Valentine came in for a broken arm, and they’ve been close friends ever since, even when Naveen had to move to Boston.
Naomi adores the older man, and it doesn’t hurt that he’s one of the best doctors in the country.
“Why didn’t you just lead with that?” Naomi asks.
Dorinda shrugs. “I wanted to see if you could leave that apartment of yours without external motivation.”
“And I did,” Naomi says. “I want a medal.”
“And I want a private island somewhere in the Caribbean.”
There’s a knock at the door that startles them out of their banter. Before either one of them can reach the door, Naomi’s dad beats them to it.
“Naveen, you old man!” Steven greets. “How are you?”
“If I’m old, you’re ancient!” Naveen shoots back with a chuckle. His eyes fall on Dorinda and Naomi, who have joined them in the foyer. “Dorinda! You’re as lovely as ever.”
“Naveen, it’s so wonderful to see you again.”
“And Naomi, I haven’t seen you since your med school graduation.” Naveen sizes her younger before hugging her. “Gosh, I can’t believe you’re so grown up now. What happened to the little 5 year old who used to quiz me on the periodic table?”
“Hi, Naveen,” Naomi greets brightly.
“It smells delicious in here. Don’t tell me you made a huge fuss over me, Dorinda.”
“What? It’s not every day we get to see you.” Dorinda takes Naveen’s coat. “Go sit down, you’re here just in time. Dinner will be out in 10 minutes, tops.”
It doesn’t even take that long, and soon the Valentine family plus Naveen are all gathered around the dining room table, passing around bowls and platters of food.
“So Naveen, I heard you got a promotion recently and you’re now the Chief of Medicine at Edenbrook.”
“Yeah, my days of practicing are over.”
“Do you like the job?” Naomi asks.
Naveen nods. “I love it. I have more free time, which is a plus. And there’s still so much to do, so it fuels the adrenaline junky in me. What about you, Dr. Valentine?” He smiles. “What’s it like being an attending?”
“Demanding,” Naomi answers.
“Any interesting cases recently?”
“No.” Naomi‘s girl scrapes across her plate as she awkwardly shuffles her food around. “I, uh...I’m on a personal leave right now. I haven’t been to the hospital in weeks.”
Naveen knows all about the nasty divorce, so he nods sympathetically and doesn’t press the subject. “You were chief resident last year, right?”
“Yes, sir.”
“She’s being modest,” Dorinda says. “She was at the top of her cohort.”
“Of course she was.” Naveen takes a sip of his drink, but his eyes are still trained on Naomi, wheels turning. “How do you like the hospital you’re working at?”
“It’s good.”
“Do you think that it’s the best fit for you? Are you being pushed to your limits? Are your superiors still checking in with you? You’re an attending now, but they should still care about your development.”
Naomi feels overwhelmed by the onslaught of questions. What is this, a job interview?
“Slow down Naveen, what’s with the interrogation?”
“What? I care about you, and I care about your potential. I just hope it’s not being wasted.”
“It’s not,” Naomi assures him.
“You know, there will always be a standing invitation for you to join the team at Edenbrook,” Naveen tells her.
A wide grin forms on Dorinda’s face and before Naomi can respond, she does. “She accepts!”
And that’s when the lightbulb turns on above Naomi’s head. She glances from Naveen to her parents. “Did you guys set this up?”
Naveen raises an eyebrow at the question. “What do you mean?”
“Did my parents ask you to come here and give me a job offer?”
“No, I’m here because I have a conference to attend in Baltimore tomorrow, so I thought I’d drop in. No one asked me to give you a job offer. You’re intelligent, you’re compassionate, you’re a good doctor, and I wouldn’t be a very smart Chief if I didn’t at least try to poach you for myself.”
“And she accepts!” Dorinda continues.
“Mom, stop it!” Naomi scolds.
“You’ll get a chance to work with me,” Naveen adds. “You’ll get a chance to work with Dr. Ethan Ramsey, my protege. We’re a level 1 trauma center, and Boston is a gorgeous city.”
The last thing Naomi needs right now is a new job in a new city, not while her life is in complete shambles. Besides, her entire life is in DC. It’s where her entire support system resides. Functioning without them sounds daunting.
“I really appreciate the offer Naveen, but that is definitely a lot to take in and consider.”
“Of course, I understand. I didn’t mean to put you on the spot, nor do I expect any sort of answer.” Naveen sighs. “How much longer are you going to be off of work?”
“A few more weeks.”
“How about you come to Boston, and at least check out the hospital?” He suggests. “No strings attached, and you can stay at my lake house because I’m hardly ever there and there’s tons of space, so someone should enjoy it. At the very least, I think seeing it will at least be a fun experience and a nice vacation.”
“If I say yes to the trip, can we pause this conversation for the rest of the evening?”
Naveen nods. “I think that’s a fair exchange.”
“Then you have yourself a deal.”
Naomi relaxes and slouches slightly in her seat. When she gets home later on, she has a mission to complete: research the hell out of Boston and Edenbrook Hospital.
~v~
Boston is a beautiful city full of history, culture, and interesting attractions. Naomi appreciates the hustle and bustle of the city life, and the fact that everyone is always on the go – a vast difference from the quiet and serenity of Naveen’s lake house in Plymouth.
And Edenbrook is an entirely different beast. It is much larger than she expects, as the pictures don’t do it justice. The building is at least 7 stories tall to her naked eye, sleek and modern.
Naomi silently marvels as she watches doctors and nurses bustle around, chatting quietly amongst each other.
“Wow.” Is all she can say.
“She’s a beaut, isn’t she?” Naveen asks rhetorically, smiling at Naomi’s childlike wonder.
“This hospital is amazing,” is what she finally settles on when words finally come back to her.
“Follow me, we have an unofficial tour to go on.”
Naomi follows Naveen through the hospital. She struggles to keep up as she tries to memorize the complex layout, because this hospital is large and built like a multi-level maze.
Naveen rattles off information and fun facts as they pass through the pediatric department, they stop to stare at the newborns in labor and delivery, all small and wriggly, and they even manage to sneak into the OR to watch Harper Emery perform a craniotomy, something Naomi compares to a religious experience.
“I can’t believe I just watched The Harper Emery perform surgery!” Naomi squeals with delight as she and Naveen step out of the gallery and leave the OR. “Please tell me that wasn’t a dream.”
“I didn’t peg you for a surgery fanatic,” Naveen teases.
Naomi scoffs. “I’m not, but I respect Dr. Emery. You don’t have to be a basketball fan to appreciate that Michael Jordan is one of the greats.”
“That’s a fair comparison.”
The two of them continue their leisurely stroll around the hospital, making their way to the internal medicine department.
“This is where you’d spend a good chunk of your time, if you wanted to work here, of course.”
“Is it a large department?” Naomi asks quietly. There are a few patients filling out paperwork ahead of their appointments and she doesn’t want to disturb them.
“It is. We have a lot of doctors here so you can spend that extra one-on-one time with your patients, and you aren’t just rushing them out the door to get to your next appointment.”
“That’s good to know.”
Naveen’s pager goes off and he checks it before sighing. “The life of a Chief is never dull. I have to go take care of something downstairs, but I’ll be back as soon as possible. Do you think you can occupy yourself in the meantime?”
“Of course.” Naomi shoos him away. “Take your time.”
“Thank you. I’ll be back as soon as possible.”
Naomi watches as he walks away, until she can no longer see him through the crowds of people. Once he’s truly gone, she continues her slow stroll through the halls.
Edenbrook seems like an amazing hospital and a great place to work, but she’s not sure if she can see herself staying.
Can she really pack up and move more than 400 miles away from her entire family, and the only life she’s ever known? And is she the type to run away when life gets tough? What will everyone say? “Oh, poor girl gets left by her husband and had to flee the city.”
But what’s stopping you? The little voice in her head asks, and it’s technically right. She looks down at her left hand, zeroing in on the ring-less finger with a deep tan line, a very prominent reminder of what’s definitely not waiting for her back in DC. No husband, no kids, nothing but an empty and quiet condo.
When she filed for divorce, Naomi swore to herself that running off to city hall to get married would be the first and last wild and impulsive thing she’d ever do. And taking a job offer on a whim in Boston is teetering dangerously close to that “wild and reckless” category.
But she’s pulled out of her thoughts when someone gasps loudly beside her. Whipping her head around, Naomi watches as a middle aged woman falls out of her seat and collapses onto the ground.
That sends the waiting area into a frenzy as fellow patients panic and crowd around the woman like she’s some sort of zoo exhibit, and nurses try their best to assess the situation and ask for help.
“Everyone, step back!” Naomi orders, a serious expression covering her face. “I’m a doctor!”
Before Naomi can even reach the woman, another doctor rushes over, kneeling down beside her. He lifts her wrist and pressed two fingers to it.
“Her pulse isn’t weak. She’s unresponsive.”
His face scans the crowd and Naomi inwardly gasps as she realizes that it's Ethan freaking Ramsey! In any other situation, she’d be freaking out and fan-girling over him.
He spots her and points. “You. Get in here.”
Naomi bites down on her tongue and resists the urge to get snappy with him. She’s not a puppy that can get summoned on command. But she remembers that a woman’s life is on the line and her own hang ups can wait.
“Right away, Doctor!”
With practiced ease, Ethan lifts the woman up and places her on a gurney that’s been rolled over by a nurse. Within seconds, Naomi is at his side.
“What was she coming in for?” He asks, hoping someone can answer his question. “Did she fill out a form yet?”
A nurse clears his throat before answering, “No, she had just walked in.”
That’s not the answer Ethan was hoping for and he frowns. “If we don’t figure out what’s wrong with her fast, she’s gonna die on this gurney.” He spares a quick glance at Naomi. “Check her B.P.”
A nurse hands Naomi a blood pressure cuff and she slips on around the woman’s arm. After pumping it a few times, she checks the numbers. They’re horrible.
“It’s plummeting. She’s hypotensive,” she explains. “We’ve gotta get fluids in her, now.”
Ethan nods, agreeing with the assessment. Another nurse sets up an I.V. while Naomi checks over the woman once more. She notices a bruise on her elbow, one that wasn’t there a minute ago, and her fingertips are turning blue.
“Doctor, look at her fingers,” Naomi says, getting Ethan’s attention. “I think it’s a sign of low oxygen saturation.”
Ethan raises an eyebrow. “You think or you know? We really don’t have time for the guessing game.”
“I know,” Naomi assures him, her tone coming out rougher than she intended. She’s not a fan of being second guessed, especially by someone who specifically requested her to assist.
“Good. Did you notice the bruise?” Naomi nods. “A bruise forming that quickly suggests that this woman is a hemophiliac.” Ethan slides his stethoscope from around his neck and hands it to Naomi. “Check her lungs, quickly.”
Naomi does what she’s told and takes a closer listen to her woman’s lungs.
“Nothing on her left side, and the right side is struggling. She’s going to suffocate!”
Oh God, how did she get roped into this? This was supposed to be a relaxing vacation away from all of the stress of her life, now Naomi is watching a woman suffocate to death.
Dr. Ramsey isn’t having the same struggle as she is, as he remains calm, though everyone around them is on high alert. “We’ve got a Code Blue,” he says, his voice steady. A nurse hands him a bag mask and he starts delivering air to the woman.
Naomi watches as he does that, trying to remain calm. She closes her eyes and attempts to steady her thoughts, and figure out what’s wrong with the woman.
“Hey, either help out or leave, but I don’t need you here doing nothing,” Ethan says, interrupting her thoughts.
Naomi flinches a bit at the interruption, but she continues thinking. Low oxygen, hemophilia, deflated lungs. What could it possibly be?
As she’s going through the options, it hits her. “It’s a hemothorax!”
Ethan nods, confirming the diagnosis. “A blood vessel ruptured…”
“...and it’s blocking her lungs from expanding any further,” Naomi finishes. She looks around. They’re in a crowded waiting room, not the OR. “But we can’t do anything here!”
“There’s no time to get her to the OR, we’ll have to do an emergency thoracotomy to drain her pleural cavity.” Ethan points to a nurse. “You! I need a chest tube and a scalpel, now!”
A nurse rushes over immediately, placing the items in Naomi’s hands. She barely has time to register the fact that she’s about to perform an emergency procedure on an unconscious woman, and she’s not even supposed to be in doctor-mode today before Ethan is lifting the woman’s shirt
“We’re gonna need a local anesthetic to–”
“We don’t have time for any of that!” Ethan snaps. “Do it now, or she’s going to die, and it’ll be on you!”
Naomi gulps and wills herself to calm down. Her pulse is racing and she can hear her heart beating in her ears.
But she breathes deeply. She doesn’t have time to panic, not when there’s a life on the line. She steadies her hand, and makes the incision at the woman’s rib cage.
“There you go, nice and easy,” Dr. Ramsey coaches. “Now insert the tube.”
Naomi insets the chest tube into the incision. Slowly but surely, the blood starts draining out of the woman’s chest, and she gasps, breathing again.
The woman, now conscious again, mutters something unintelligible, but she’s alive and that’s all that matters.
“We...we did it.”
The older physician ignores Naomi, instead turning to the nurse that’s been helping them. “She’s stable. Get her into surgery, but she’s stable.”
“Right away, Doctor.”
The nurses take the patient away, while the crowd applauds them for the heroic save. Eventually the crowd disperses, everyone going back to what they were previously doing.
The relief that floods through Naomi’s body is all-consuming. She hasn’t felt this euphoric in a long time. And to experience it with someone as amazing as Doctor Ramsey only elevates things. Doctors can only dream of working with him, and she actually got to do it, even if it was on a whim.
Maybe working at Edenbrook isn’t such a bad idea.
She turns back to Ethan, a giddy grin wide across her face. “Doctor...that was…amazing!”
“You’re right. It’s pretty amazing you didn’t get her killed.”
That takes the wind out of her sails almost instantly. “Wait, what?”
“Your examination was slow and superficial. And your scalpel technique?” He scoffs in derision. “Amateur at best.”
“Who the hell do you think you are?” Naomi asks. “I’m sorry, I’m not at work today, this entire situation threw me for a loop, and a waiting room definitely isn’t a proper setting to do any of what we just did. And if I’m so amateur at my job, what prevented you from stepping in at any time since you’re so much better than I am? Because if my recollection is correct, I did most of the work, while you stood there like some glorified overseer.”
“You’re the one who yelled out that you were a doctor. I wanted to test your mettle.”
Her blood boils in her veins at his words. So this is why they say never meet your heroes. Because they turn out to be righteous assholes.
“My mettle is just fine. You say it’s a miracle I didn’t kill her, I say she’s alive because of me. And another thing, I don’t need you testing my mettle when a patient’s life is on the line. Next time, save the little power trip.”
Ethan’s nostrils flare at her words. No doctor in their right mind has ever spoken to him like this. He stares down at the woman, almost a foot shorter than him, and she’s staring up at him with just as much intensity. “Now I don’t know who you think–”
“Naomi, there you are!”
Ethan’s tirade is cut short by the sound of Naveen’s voice echoing through the halls. He looks up to see his mentor and boss headed towards them.
“I’m sorry that took longer than expected Naomi,” Naveen says once he’s finally close enough. He looks her up and down. Her blouse and pants are ruined, covered in that woman’s blood. “Hue hat happened? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine Naveen,” Naomi assures him. “It’s not mine. And it’s a very long story, one I’ll tell you once I’m out of these clothes.”
“Very well.”
Ethan watches as the two of them casually converse. He’s known Naveen for well over a decade, and not once has he seen or heard of this woman. How does Naveen know her well enough for them to be on a first name basis?
“You two know each other?” He asks, interrupting their conversation.
Naveen nods. “Oh yes, we go way back. Ethan, this is Dr. Naomi Valentine. Naomi, this is Dr. Ethan Ramsey.”
Naomi gives Ethan a tight smile. She’s no longer in the mood for pleasantries. “Charmed.”
“Likewise, Dr. Valentine.”
“Naomi here is from DC, and I’m trying to convince her to come to Edenbrook,” Naveen explains. He knows better than anyone how much Naomi admires Ethan’s work. Maybe he’ll be able to help him convince the younger woman to accept a job at Edenbrook. “It’s so perfect that you guys met and became acquainted, because I actually think she’d be an excellent addition to the diagnostics team.”
Ethan’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline at that statement. “What?”
#playchoices#choices: stories you play#open heart#dr. ethan ramsey#ethan ramsey#ethan ramsey x mc#my wriitng
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Harry + betrayed (looks at a&s au stuff like :3c)
looks at you like 🔪
===
Every time the mug came out of the steaming hot dishwasher, Harry clasped it in both hands. The ceramic was always scalding, and his palms always threatened to blister. Clouds reeking of dishwasher detergent lifted and swept over his forearm, humid as a summer’s stifling rain, its pungency sickening his heart.
He hated to wash this mug.
Bright and early at six o’clock every morning, Harry made coffee. It steeped dark and bitter, just how they liked it. The first pour went into his mug; the second filled his own. Then both were taken to the small, round table in the corner of their kitchen. Harry set the mug down on the wood itself to the right of the round, rattan woven placemats they’d found in a bargain bin at Williams-Sonoma. Harry’s coffee went on the placemat itself, edging the rim, at his left.
How charming it was to have their mugs across from each other like that. He always liked how they seemed to be having a conversation through the coffee’s dissipating flames of white steam. As they drained their caffeine and burned their throats, the heat shocking their stomachs, they’d talk.
Talking didn’t necessarily mean words were used. No, words weren’t his forte, though he relished every sound that rolled off his tongue. He spoke with his face and through his hands, and if Harry ever had his way, he’d spend the hours morn to midnight simply gazing at his face.
Two hours later, Harry stood and took the cold, untouched mugs to the sink. Down the drain went the wasted coffee, dumped out at the same time. A swish of water from the faucet did a quick and fine job of cleaning them out, and Harry’s went, dripping, onto the counter. Then he ran the water again to piping hot, abusing skin rough and chapped from this daily ritual of cleaning, cleaning out his ice cold coffee, cleaning, cleaning out the dots of mold he’d let grow for two weeks because he couldn’t let that go, cleaning, cleaning out that damn spot, that damn spot, that damn spot.
The mug was as hot as it was when it came out of the dishwasher, and Harry clasped it in both hands. His teeth tried to send their roots into his skull with his jaw clamped like that, and he wished his tongue, sucked hard to the roof of his mouth and tastebuds rough as sandpaper, would swell and choke him. Every time it didn’t, which was every morning, every single morning for the past three years, Harry called it betrayal.
His kiss held tender on the warm rim. It was the last place his lips had laid where Harry could kiss him, for he couldn’t kiss his own cheek. Like every morning, his eyes slipped closed and he thought of their daily coffee date at their kitchen table. Autumn was in full golden, fiery bloom. People swarmed to Vermont to lose their breath to the vast garden of nature’s heavenly, untamed wildfire that never burned.
Every single fucking morning it was autumn again, the mug had been scorching hot, then chilly, the phantom pressure of his kiss lingered on his cheek, and Harry tried to kiss him back too on ceramic that had been the last tangible thing to experience his lips.
Today, he set the mug down on the counter alongside the one in its puddle. The water brimmed its mismatched mate immediately and would leave an incomplete circle in its wake after Harry would take it up and wrap it in a soft towel. That puddle would dry on its lonesome over the course of as many minutes; Harry wrapped up his personal mug, too.
Remaining coffee got poured and locked in a thermos. They were placed in the coveted seat beside the driver’s - shotgun! one’s supposed to yell to reserve it for themselves - tucked safely behind a plain old box.
The ignition chittered on. Rancid boomed and rattled the Jeep’s speakers. Harry absently wiggled the shiny, custom-made Magic Eight Ball fortune teller stick shift knob. He glanced down. ‘It is decidedly so,’ promised the triangular face washed behind blue, its text pressed on the circular window.
A draw; and exhale. The YJ Wrangler shifted into gear, easing back out of the driveway, Harry’s arm slung around the shotgun seat and head turned to watch over his shoulder as he safely maneuvered to their personal gravel road leading to and from their remote, comfortable Vermont hideaway.
It’d probably take five, six hours, give or take, to get to Maine. He was looking forward to their coffee date. Five out of the seven days of the week Harry drove to Maine to hang out on the shore of Toluca Lake. Coffee was served into their mugs; he kept his at his side, and his tucked into the sand and mud at the water’s breach.
Sometimes he’d talk, update his husband on his books, their daughter, the latest news that did and didn’t matter. Other times he’d sit in silence, listening and watching the new face of a man he loved. Harry was there in rain, sleet, and snow. He’d all but frozen his ass off before out there and sweated buckets in the heat. But they had their spot, and that’s where he’d always sit.
Silent Hill rested to the south. They took a vacation there once. Harry hates how it looks out across Toluca. Take your fucking eyes somewhere else, he regularly thinks. Don’t fucking look at him.
It oversees. One day, Harry’s promised five days out of the seven in the week, he’s going to tear that town asunder by his own bare hands.
Tomorrow might be that day. Harry rises to his feet. It is decidedly so. He fetches the Jeep’s constant tenant for the last three years. It is decidedly so.
“I hope you liked your coffee, honey,” he says to the lake lapping at his boots as he wades into snapping cold. “So, I asked the eight ball if I’d see you today,” Harry Mason offhandedly tells his husband residing in the lake. “Guess what it said? ‘It is decidedly so.’ Take that as you will. I know you know what I’ve planned to do, honeylove. Don’t get up in my tits about it,” warns the older man, now appropriately submerged mid-chest. “I’m not gonna do it today. Doesn’t feel right. But I thought it’d be nice to see you, anyway.”
“So you’re wondering why I brought the box in with me? Well, I’m glad you asked! For one, I fixed it up and made it waterproof,” he smirks, cradling it in his arm and popping it open. “And two.. c’mon, now. You know I’d lose these if I didn’t keep ‘em in here.”
Two pendants, no bigger than his thumbnail, each on their own thin chain, dangled just skimming the water’s surface. Two pendants, amber and glinting, somehow even in the thick grey mist rolling in from Silent Hill. “Check these out. I got ‘em made a few months ago and I’ve just now had the balls to bring ‘em out. It’s because the eight ball said I’d see you today. So.. here. One of them’s for you. I figure you can make yours glow in there, firefly. You have a knack for lightin’ up the dark.”
Harry chuckles, wagging his head back and forth, mocking himself. “Yeah, yeah, mushy, whatever, I’m a dork. Thbhtghbh. What’re you gonna do, divorce me? Shoulda thought about that before you went fishing, babe.” He collects the chains and their sculpted fireflies into his fist. One kiss is enough for both. Then he smiled, looked into the lake, and felt comforted by the thought that that sweet, pale man with yellow wheat field hair was watching him.
Projection is a very real, very psychedelic thing, for sometimes, Harry thinks he can see his face.
The water sways around his wrist. He gazes into Toluca Lake and waits, and hopes that the magic of the eight ball is true.
Will I get to see James today?
It is decidedly so.
If he were to do it all over again from the top, do you think he’d still do it this way?
It is decidedly so.
Does he know I love him?
It is decidedly so.
Does he know I’ll never forgive him?
It is decidedly so.
When the day comes, I’ll kill that motherfucker myself. I dunno how it’s gonna happen, but it’s gonna happen. Fucking asshole. He knows that, right?
….
.. right?
“I gotta go soon, babe,” Harry murmurs to his husband, James Mason (formerly Sunderland). “I’m gonna leave one with you. I’ll be back tomorrow. If you wanna trade, we can. Fuck, I don’t wanna get a fuckin’ yeast infection out here,” he gripes, turning to wade out of the lake. “Seriously, James. Not like a yeast infection wouldn’t stop me from comin’ out here but you bet your ass you’re gonna hear all fucking about it, because it will be your fault, and I fucking hate you, so goddamn fucking much, honeylove.”
Harry makes it out to the shore. He takes the box to its honored seat in shotgun! James’s coffee gets thrown into Toluca; he pours his out where he’d sat. Then the mason with rusted tools scans his exhausted, old, heavily lined eyes across the scenic lake where an orange (rare, so rare, extremely rare and mean everything) firefly swims. He’ll never get over the betrayal. It doesn’t matter if he understands it. It doesn’t matter that he’s (and he’s) been waiting for it long before they’d met.
After all those thousands of years of looking for each other, this is how he chooses to betray him: like Judas, with a kiss.
A kiss on a ceramic mug that is going to be washed again today, and tomorrow morning, and will scald his hands.
A kiss, a kiss, a kiss from a man whose lips promised I love you with a simple brush. Lips Harry hasn’t felt in three years; his heart can break even more.
Will I ever get to kiss him again? Harry asks his stick shift as he drives towards his six (give or take) hour journey home to Vermont.
It is decidedly so, replies the eight ball.
Will it be soon? inquires a widowed man, widowed for the second time.
It is decidedly so, soothes the inky window.
When?
Turn right off this street, guides the knob too small to say so. Fifty miles out. It won’t take long.
Huh? I can barely see with all this fog. Where am I going?
To see James.
James? What’s he doing all the way out here?
Waiting for you.
.. waiting for me? I’ll get to see him again?! Jeez.. damn, I’ve got a splitting headache all of a sudden .. fifty miles to Silent Hill.. hrm, seems farther than I remember, but..
He’s waiting for you.
.. forgot to clean up the coffee at home.. m’sure it’ll be fine.. Cheryl’ll be over at some point.. heh.. can’t believe he wants to spend our anniversary in Silent Hill.. fuckin’ weirdo.. a vow renewal? And he calls me disgusting..
He’s waiting.
I’m comin’. I’ll be there soon, James. It’s gonna be alright. I can’t wait to see you. We’re gonna have a great vacation, just the two of us, aren’t we, sweetheart?
It is decidedly so.
#ches writes#a&s#HRM WHOOPS UHHHHHHHHHHH#how many hours did i just fucking spend writing this#oh three? cool#welp#anyway!#rootdootdoodootdoooot i'm leav-ving#magnolian-gold#so much for a fucking drabble amirite fellas#just zoned the fuck in bc god i love that fuckin sad shit#not even sorry for revisiting the same a&s plot point over an over#can't be bovvered#¯\_(ツ)_/¯#anyway this new revised au is living in my head rent free and that's very sexy cash money of me to write asbout
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A Reason To Believe Chapter 12
Being an undercover officer is a perilous job and Flip Zimmerman knows this far too well. He keeps his romantic life limited to one-night stands, never letting anyone get too close. That all starts to change when he meets a vivacious Jewish woman named Elle just as he’s about to take on a seriously dangerous undercover job; infiltrating the KKK. Elle and his undercover work make him question things he’d never thought to before and challenge him to see the world, and himself, in a whole new light.
A Flip x OC Fic
Word Count: 3,817
Warnings: slurs, violence
I see the bad moon a-rising
I see trouble on the way
I see earthquakes and lightnin'
I see bad times today
(x)
Flip had known David Duke was going to come to town, it’s not like this was a new surprise. He was given weeks to prepare, spent time with the organization getting everything in place. He should feel ready. But he didn’t.
Then the real Ron Stallworth was put on escort duty for Duke and he really didn’t feel ready for all this. What was the chief thinking? Not only was he putting a black officer in charge of the most prominent white supremacist in America, Ron was also the man that had been speaking on the phone with him for months.
The stress was starting to get to him. He was constantly working scenarios out in his head, every little situation that could go possibly wrong, and what he could do to fix it if it happened. In theory it was once day, just a few hours spent at a steakhouse. They would get through it one way or another. But he couldn’t help but feel this whole operation was about to be a disaster.
“Flip?” Elle’s voice called to him.
He blinked his eyes a few times and he came back to reality. He was sitting in Elle’s living room with her on the sofa, the two of them sharing Chinese food he’d brought over. It was the night before the big day.
“You spaced out there for a minute, everything okay?” She asked.
“Yeah, sorry. Just thinking about work,” He rubbed his face with his hand, trying to wake himself back up.
“You’ve been really stressed out lately, is that because of work too?”
“Yeah, it’s—” He stopped himself.
“Confidential, I know,” She finished his words. “But I’m still worried. How much longer do you think this case is?”
“Could be years, could be tomorrow. I really can’t say,” He sighed.
Part of him wanted this to be over. He was mentally exhausted from dealing with the klan day in and day out. But he know this was important, that they needed to be taken down. He just hoped it could be done smoothly. He suddenly felt her fingers intertwine with his.
“You’re going to get through this,” She assured him. “You’re gonna do what you need to do, and I’ll be by your side through it no matter how long it takes,”
He looked at her, taking in the resolution on her face. She believed in him, in his ability to see this through. This woman knew who he was undercover with, had even accidentally met some of the targets, and was still supportive of him. He had other girlfriends in the past tell him they supported him, but this time he felt like he could really believe it. He gave her hand a light squeeze and nodded at her.
“I’m going to get through this,”
_______
"You know something about that, don't you Flip?"
Blood rushed in his ears, for a second the world seemed to stop. Felix just called him by his name, his real name. He knew, how did he know? Is he about to be exposed to the entire organization without any backup? Ron wasn't in the room, he must have left for somewhere. Fuck this was about to be a worst case scenario.
He didn't remember the guy being introduced to him. Was it another undercover case? Army? Did he arrest him? Fuck, why can't he remember? His mouth was on autopilot, denying and covering the best he could.
Suddenly a waiter approached the table, stopping them all.
"Felix Kendrickson, you have a call,"
He stood up from the table, leaning over to Flip before he left.
"We'll talk about this later, Flip," He spat out before leaving.
The majority of the table hadn't noticed the interaction, but those who did took turns glancing in his direction. He pretended not to notice, not saying anything as he silently plotted his next step. Maybe he could leave now? Excuse himself before he's exposed? He took a sip of wine to calm his nerves. He wasn't going to abandon the case, he could talk his way out of this.
Felix came back into the room but didn't even acknowledge Flip. He gave a curt nod and Ivanhoe and the mystery man got up and followed him out without another word.
Something has to be going on. With all their talk to explosions and revolution, whatever they were up to it couldn't be good. He had to follow them.
"Why was he calling you flip?" Duke's voice came from his right side. That's right, he still had to keep his cover.
"We were in prison together, it was an old joke. I think he just violated his parole though," Prison, he put the guy in prison. He remembered now.
He got up and calmly walked out of the room. As soon as the door closed he took off into a sprint, trying to see where the men had gone off to. He was near the entrance when he heard a car engine start. He looked out a window to see Felix driving a car out of the lot and down the road. He followed the car at a distance, trying to keep from being seen.
He lost their car at a red light, the vehicle disappearing around a corner as a line of cars passes in front of him, preventing him from moving forward. Behind him were more cars so backing up isn't an option either. He brings a fist down on his steering wheel, grunting in frustration.
There was no police scanner in his car, just his gun under his seat and his badge hidden in his glove box. He couldn't listen to what was going on, or if Ron had made any calls in to the network. He was going to have to wing it.
As soon as the light turned green, he gunned it. A straggler from the recent red light almost T-boned him as he sped through the intersection, causing them both to swerve. He recovered as best he could and kept going despite the horns blaring behind him.
He weaved through the streets of Colorado Springs, looking for any sign of the car. There's a few false alarms, but once he sees the passengers his heart falls. They're nowhere to be found.
He thinks that he should maybe start to head back when he hears a thundering BOOM a few streets to the west. Immediately he steps on the gas and his tiles squeal as he peels toward the noise. That had to be them, the crazy motherfuckers. What the fuck did they do?
He follows the smoke billowing up into the sky. As he turns the last corner he sees the police are already on the scene. Someone is on their stomach on the ground with a gun pointed at them. Did they catch the perp already? If it's Felix and company shouldn't there be more on the ground. Then he saw the man's face. Ron.
"Hey, HEY," He screamed as he rushed out of his car. The officers turned to look at him. He'd grabbed his badge and gun from the car as he rushed toward them.
"Who the fuck are you?" One asked.
"I'm an undercover cop you idiot," He spat back, throwing his badge at him.
He made them get off Ron and free him from his cuffs. He looks around and evaluated the scene in front of him. It took him a moment but he saw that the fireball in front of him was coming from a red VW Bug, and an overturned vehicle next to it. The car Felix was driving. He heard a wail and saw Connie on the ground crying. He put two and two together and bit back a grimace before turning to the officers.
"We have one black officer on the whole force and you can't bother to know him? Shape the fuck up and arrest that woman!” He yelled.
The officers scrambled to arrest the right person and Ron sprung up and ran toward the house that was closest to the flames. He watched him help up two women, one re recognized as Ron's girlfriend from the Black Student Union, and bring them father away.
"Is everyone okay?" He asked, seeing that the girls looked a little dazed. No doubt they had been knocked over by the blast of that were that close.
“We're fine, I'm gonna take them to the hospital just in case," Ron told him, ushering the girls to his car.
"I'll stay behind to make sure fire and anyone else that comes sets this up properly. They'll probably take Connie to an emergency unit too so be careful," He leaned by the open window of Ron's car as he spoke.
"We will be, you stay safe too," He said as he turned on the engine.
"And if you see Elle, tell her I'm okay," He knew the words were simple, but she'd appreciate them.
Ron met his gaze and nodded.
"Will do, brother. I'll see you there," Flip stepped back and the car rolled off away from the fire.
He took a deep breath. He could hear the fire engine in the distance and the police sirens approaching. Connie was currently being loaded into the back of an ambulance on a stretcher accompanied by an officer. The VW Bug let off another spurt of flames.
This is not how he thought this day would go.
_______
He drove to the hospital about a half hour later, trying to decompress and process what he just witnessed. The sight of the burning car, the smell of kerosene and smoke, the wailing of Connie mixed with the screams of Ron and the officers. What a shit show.
He became aware of how tightly he was gripping the wheel when he heard a knuckle crack. He loosened his grip and took a breath. He knew he should go back to the organization now, the longer he stayed away the more likely he was to blow his cover. But he wanted to make sure his partner wasn't going to be put in handcuffs again. And they'd need a statement from him about what just happened, and to know not to release anything about his involvement as an officer.
He was thankful the three men were pronounced dead on the scene. They were vile human beings who were intent on killing innocent people sure, but he didn't want to imagine the agony of surviving that kind of explosion. And he was sure they would be a nightmare for the nurses. Connie was sure to be a handful on her own, the way she was screeching and flailing. He hoped Elle wouldn't have to deal with all this, maybe she was helping other patients.
He swung into a parking spot and rushed inside, barely stopping at the front desk to flash his badge and ask which way to head. The nurses must have already seen the rest of the patients come in because they looked grave.
He dashed down the left hallway, bursting through the double doors that lead to the small emergency center. He passed the empty waiting room to enter the patient area. The first room he passed held Ron and his friends. He skidded to a halt and caught his breath.
"Is everything okay?" He asked, entering the room.
"Yeah, I'm okay. They're okay. No damage on us, I think we're just here as more of a precaution," Ron explained. "How's the scene?"
"It's being handled. It's not pretty but at least it was contained and didn't harm anything else. You guys should be good to go home tonight, your house is fine,"
"Thanks," Patrice said from across the room. Her and her friend looked to be in no mood for talking, which he understood.
"Your girl was just in here, I told her you were okay," Ron offered, giving him a smile.
"Thanks. I told her I wasn't gonna get into trouble today so she probably had a heart attack with this many officers coming in at once. Where is she now?"
"She went down the hall to get the medicine for the nurses to work on Connie. She had some scrapes from resisting arrest but they can't get her to settle down enough to help her,"
"She seems to have quieted down now, maybe she—“ His sentence was cut off by a loud shriek and the sound of glass shattering.
He took one look at Ron and ran out of the room, looking for the source. He found it a few doors down the hallway. Connie was being tended to by five nurses, most of which were holding her down while she thrashed in the small hospital bed. An IV had been attached to her arm but it appears to have been ripped out and the glass container smashed on the floor with the liquid seeping across the tile.
"Ma'am, please cooperate, were just trying to help," He heard Elle say. She was by the nurse's cart, rifling to find something in the mess.
"I'm innocent, you can't do this to me!" Connie screamed in response.
The nurses tightened their hold. No one seemed to notice his presence yet. He feared entering the room in case Connie noticed him and she figured out who he really was. She hadn't noticed him at the scene, too busy staring at the charred Ford.
"Ma'am we cannot help you unless you calm down. You have several scrapes we need to tend to, we want to make sure they heal correctly," Elle continued with a even voice.
She spoke calmly and he could easily see how any patient would find it soothing. She was a sight in her uniform, looking professional and focused. She carefully drawing the contents of a small bottle into a syringe. She brought it eye level, inspecting it, squirting some out, before drawing closer to the distraught woman. Her shrieks had become quieter, becoming more of whimpers. She wasn't aware of the syringe approaching her.
"We'll need to disinfect the cuts and get them wrapped in gauze," She explained out loud to the other nurses, who nodded in affirmation.
She looked at the nurse across from her and nodded. That nurse began to talk to Connie, diverting her attention while Elle drew the needle closer. They were trying to inject her, probably with a sedative, in order to calm her down. The distraction seemed to work until Connie felt the pinch of the needle entering her arm. Her head jerked back, looking at her arm and then at Elle.
It was at that moment he noticed her necklace falling forward from under her uniform collar, the same moment Connie saw it as well. Elle seemed unaware, focused to keeping the woman calm as she finished the injection.
Suddenly, Connie broke the hold the nurse had on her right arm, lunging it over to grab at Elle's necklace. She yanked the chain down, her head jerking with it.
"You filthy Jew, what'd you put in me?" Connie gritted out, fist tightening around the chain as the nurse clambered to get ahold of her.
Elle's expression was steeled, jaw set. One hand was on the syringe, now removed from her arm, and the other was desperately trying to pry her fingers off her necklace.
"It was a sedative ma'am, the same one we tried to put in your IV before you broke it. We promise, it's for your own good. We aren't here to hurt you," She said in an even tone, expertly masking her anger.
"You don't get to tell me what's good for me you dirty kike!” Connie roared in response.
The nurses all wore the same expression of shock. Flip was sure they'd seen and heard worse, but such an open attack right in front of them must be jarring. It sure disturbed him. Elle took a deep breath before speaking again.
"Ma'am I need you to let go," She said evenly.
"I watched my husband die today. A good man. A pure man. He would have killed you if he knew you were putting poison in me," Connie's voice was full of malice, her grip tightening around the necklace to the point of drawing blood where the pendant came to a point.
Elle yelped, the metal chain digging into her skin before breaking and clinking to the ground. She stepped back, holding her hand to her neck to make she was okay. Her composure was broken, eyes filled with rage. In one swift motion she drew her arm back and rocked it forward with all her strength, her fist connecting with the woman's cheek.
Connie grunted and fell limp against the bed, knocked out cold. The room was dead silent. It was if time had stopped. Elle's chest heaved as she slowly came back to reality. She took one look at Connie and looked frantically at her fellow nurses.
"Is she—” She started to ask lowly.
"She's just knocked out, it was the sedatives, right?" One nurse responded, looking at the others. A chorus of affirmation followed.
"It was the drugs that knocked her out, poor thing has had a hard day," One said.
"I heard she fell on her head while being apprehended, hope she doesn't get a bruise," Another offered.
Elle's posture relaxed, her eyes growing glassy and her hands gaining a tremor. Flip decided it was time for him to enter.
"Eliana," He said softly, getting to her side with just a few quick strides. The nurses seemed caught off guard by his presence, eyeing the badge and gun on his person.
"She's not in trouble is she? She was just defending herself," A nurse asked, ready to step forward and come to her defense.
"I have no idea what you're talking about, I didn't see a thing," He said simply, pulling his girl into a hug.
"Flip?" She asked, not having the strength to look up at him.
"I'm here, come on, let's get you some air," He said quietly.
A nurse picked up Elle's necklace and held it out to Flip, who took it and nodded his silent thanks.
"Thank you ladies, my partner is down the hall if you need anything. I'm gonna make sure Elle is okay," He escorted Elle out of the room, his arm looped around her waist.
_______
There was a bench right outside of a maintenance door. He sat her down, moving right next to her, bringing her head to rest on his shoulder. She hadn't said a word as they walked down the quiet hallways. She just stared dead ahead, eyes focusing on nothing in particular.
"Talk to me," He murmured, tucking a stray curl back under her cap.
"I could lose my job," She whispered, voice thick from holding in emotion. "I just punched a patient in the face what the fuck what I thinking?"
"She physically attacked you and was screaming hate speech I think any sane person would consider that self defense," He reasoned with her.
"It doesn't matter, I lost my cool. She was in my care, it shouldn't matter. This could be a nightmare for the hospital if it gets out" She buried her face in her hand
"I don't think it's gonna. The nurses you were working with seem to have your back on this one. One of them looked ready to take me out too when I came into the room. And I doubt Connie will have any memory after getting clocked like that,"
Elle groaned in response, rubbing her face with her hands. She swiped under her eyes, trying to prevent any tears from falling while she was on shift.
"No matter what happens, you're going to be fine. You won't lose your job, they love you here and aren't going to fire you because you defended yourself against a crazed racist," He assured.
"I hope you're right," She sighed, bringing her hand up to her throat and feeling where the chain cut into her skin.
Suddenly, her hand stopped as she remembered her necklace had been broken off her. She started to stand when he dug into his pocket to bring it forth.
"It's here, don't worry. I'm sorry she broke it, I know how much it means to you,"
Elle sucked in a breath, new tears welling in her eyes. Her mouth was drawn tight, preventing any emotion from escaping as she gingerly touched the necklace laying in his palm. The pendant, which had survived a genocide, years of torture and pain and a trip to a new country was untouched. The silver star stood resolute against the pale flesh of his palm. It was the chain, which was weak from decades of wear, that has been broken.
"Mama won't be happy when I tell her about this," She noted. "I think I could get a new chain, this one looks beyond repair,"
She took the necklace from his hand, rubbing the pendant between her fingers before tucking it into her breast pocket.
"I think you're right," He said. She was coming out of shock and seemed to be reasoning with herself again, a good sign. "It's going to be okay sweetheart,"
"Ron told me what happened today. You're working with a bunch of lunatics,"
"Are we talking about the organization or the police?" He asked, realizing it could very well be either after today's events.
"I meant the org but both of them. It's meshugas, I don't know how you work with either of them," She gave a quick laugh of disbelief.
"Its been a trip," He didn't want to speak ill of his department, but after watching how his fellow officers handled things today, he wasn't happy. "I'll have to head back soon. My cover was almost blown today and I have my work cut out for me,"
"You're going back?" She removed her head from his shoulder and looked at him incredulously.
"The guys who blew my cover are the same ones getting their ashes scooped into body bags right now. I think I have a good shot of this working out," He then hurried to explain. "I wouldn't do it if I didn't think it was safe,"
She just stared at him for a moment, eyes searching for any doubt in him. He remained firm, he knew this was the right thing to do.
"You'd better come home in one piece Zimmerman," She warned. "Or else there's gonna be a lot more racists with black eyes today,"
"I promise you," He held out a hand to her. She took it and gave it a squeeze.
"Call me before you get to my place? So I can get some dinner started?"
"Of course," He reaffirmed.
"I guess I should get back too, I made kind of a mess in there. I should get to cleaning," She sighed, standing up from the bench and smoothing her dress out.
"You gonna be alright? I can take you home," He offered.
"No it's okay, I have to finish my shift. I'll be fine,"
"Okay, I'll see you tonight then. Tell Ron where I'm headed and that this is something I gotta do without a wire,"
"Ten four," she mock saluted him.
She started to head back toward the door when he caught her and brought her flush to his body. He pulled her into a kiss, cradling her face with his hands, silently communicating every emotion he’d been holding in that day. He swore he’d come home to her tonight, he’d put an end to this.
“I love you,” He whispered as he broke the kiss.
“I love you too,” She whispered back. “Be safe,”
He promised to do his best.
_______
Hi! I took a few week off to focus on activism and getting back to work in the middle of this g-d damn pandemic. Sorry for the delay, here’s the next chapter!
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Hey everyone! I’m so sad to say that my chapter isn’t even close to done. I’ve been swamped with homework, studying, etc. Maybe enjoy this chapter of an old Mavel fanfic that I started but never continued. After Her Sun His Moon I might pick the idea back up, but only time will tell. Love you all lots! And hang loose, amigos 🤙🏼
Pairing: Steve Rogers x Cleo (OC)
Rating: M
Word count: 2200+
~~~
Boom!
"I'm too young to die!"
Bang!
"What did I do to deserve this?... don't answer that."
Bang! Bang! Bang!
"Cleo, shut up and keep shooting!"
"We're running out of ammo and there's no way we can get past all those guys!"
There's nothing worse than getting shot at, by the people you once called family and shooting back at them with an odd band of people who tried to arrest you not too long ago. Might as well crawl back to the pits of hell and play poker with satan.
"Damn it!" I grumble. I then proceed to throw my machine gun on the floor and slide further down the cover of the flipped taxi. "Out of bullets," I tell my partner who stands to my left and shooting from a gun of his own. I feel bad for the guy. No one forced us to be partners, let alone be willing to die for one another. Just a couple of months ago we hated each other's guts. Yet here we are. Firing bullets like rain falls from the sky in order to not let the other get shot.
He furrows his eyebrow with a confused look, kneeling closer to me. "We're gonna get out of this, Cleo. I promise you." He assures me.
I give him a sad smile as I place my hand behind his neck before pulling him down to kiss him. I don't know when or if I'd even see this man ever again. But, I really hope I do. It was a hungry and passionate kiss, but too short, even shorter than those damn hobbits. I pull away but he keeps his face no more than an inch from mine. "I love you."
I don't give him a chance to react to the very sudden and magical words before slipping out of his grasp and emerge from behind the taxi. I create my triangular forcefield to prevent the bullets, not fast enough, though, since one skimmed my arm. I don't even realize it due to the adrenaline but-
Too far into the story, my bad. In order for you to really know what all this is about, we need to start from the beginning of the weirdest time in my life. It started at McDonald's, actually.
"Order for John Mulaney." The soulless employee announces in monotone. The name makes one head turn in the empty area, only for them to sigh in disappointment when John Mulaney did not come to this McDonald's. It was just me. A shit-hole of a person, having a normal night of eating fries and nuggets after an assassination job.
I wanted the Happy Meal, but they refused to let me order that because I'm "too old". I'm not a motherfucking senior citizen like that Captain America, who looks good enough to, in fact, fuck the mothers of America.
"Ugh." I gag, spitting my half-chewed nugget back into the box. Jesus, what do they put in this? Semen? I reach for my Frappuccino, the caramel one, of course, and take a sip in order to get rid of the not-even-close-to-chicken taste out of my mouth. And while setting the drink back on the table, the napkin that I used before now has black writing on it.
I look around the barren restaurant, looking for a suspicious person. Only, I'm the only person here, other than a group of drunk college girls in the corner. It's only 11 pm, what are they doing back from whatever party they went to? That's pathetic. Looking back at the napkin, I pick it up to read it better.
(718)-334-7876
11:20 pm sharp.
Probably someone looking to hire. But, why contact me with a napkin. A pigeon would be more practical. Alas, it's on a napkin. I've had people contact me discretely in many ways. A brick, calling through a phone, letters, notes on my motorcycle, but never on a napkin. I also don't understand why this person couldn't just come up and talk to me. The place is empty after all... Like my soul.
My left-hand digs into my back pocket for my phone. Setting my hand lazily of the table with the phone resting in it, it lights up to read 11:18 over my black lock-screen with the words "Fuck off" in bold, white letters in the middle. He did say 11:20 sharp. Should I wait the extra two minutes? No, I'm too impatient and also don't give any fucks.
My fingers dial the number as written and press the call button. Tapping my fingers on the table rhythmically as the phone rings. I hope it's a politician job. Better yet, one who doesn't believe in climate change! Putting a bullet through one of their thick heads can be fun and stress-relieving.
"You called too early." A raspy and familiar voice on the other side appears.
"It's 11:20 somewhere in the world." I quip, plopping a fry in my mouth. "Now, what's the point of this call, Frank?"
"My name isn't Frank." He gruffs.
"Luke?" I guess again.
"Cl-"
"I know what your name is." I interrupt him, leaning back in my chair with a cocky smirk. "It's Gandalf, right?"
The other line is silent while I lightly snicker to myself. I know I can be a little... much. But what's a little pestering, right? I was never that good at socializing, though. I have what you call "people-problems". Simply put, I don't like people too much and they don't like me in return. Which is why I make such a great business partner.
"Cleo, we have a job for you." Right we're back to that.
"How was your brief vacation, Frank?" Silence. Again. The fact that I am still alive despite getting everyone to hate me is astonishing. Really, I have made so many enemies just by talking. Whether it be by calling them a nasty word or confusing their gender, I can always offend someone. Even with the simplicity of calling this man Frank.
"Can you be professional for once?" He lets out a breathy plead. "It wouldn't kill ya."
"No, it wouldn't kill me." I sigh in agreement. "but it does take the joy out of things, such as killing others. Which is why you called."
"Come to the house and you'll be given all the information."
"Woah Woah Woah Woah." I raise my eyebrows as I interrupt my little acquaintance for this millionth time during this one phone call. "Woah. You think I'm actually going to take this job?"
"Come on, Cleo." I roll my eyes already as I reach for my frappuccino for another long sip. "It's been over a year now and-"
"Ahhh." I hiss, my left hand find their way for my forehead and shut my eyes up tightly. This pain. One of the worst a person can get, no later how trained and pain tolerant I get, I can always feel this pain.
"Cleo?" Not-Frank's raspy voice is sounded through the phone. "Cleo, are you alright?" Worry? Coming from not-Frank? The last time that's been a thing was a couple of years ago when I almost threw him off a building. If your wondering about that, well long story short, there was a lot of suspicion between the families and not-Frank got caught in the middle of a lot of things.
"Yep," I grunt, finally removing my hands from my forehead. "Damn. Been shot multiple times and a brain-freeze will always be one of the worst pain I will ever experience. Now, what were we discussing? Oh right. The fact that I am 100 percent done with you guys."
"You know, you're lucky to be alive. The Boss never lets anyone leave and you were somehow able to waltz right out the door. Tell me, Cleo. How did you really get out." His voice was beginning to sound like a snake. It was low and airy, just the right amount of that lovely threatening tone that people get so scared of.
"Well I didn't really 'waltz' out of the door, I'm not much of a dancer. It was more of a strut, really."
"Dio mio." He mutters under his breath. I presume he is also burying his face in his hand at the moment.
"You don't believe in God, Frank." I playfully scold him. "Oh, while I have you on the phone I need to ask you something. So, if you ran a night club and you were about to be assassinated by a quite gorgeous female. Would you prefer to be killed with a jagged or smooth knife?"
"Cleo–"
"Cause the smooth ones are a bit faster, but for some reason, they spray more blood and I was planning on wearing a new coat I bought. And the–"
"Just shut up and listen to me!" He snapped, the sound of his fist banging on the table clear, even through the phone. My mouth still hangs open as a sort of offended look becomes present on my face. Most people know better than to raise their voice at me since I've been known to be a little violent to those who disrespect me. Though, this instance was different because of one: if you haven't noticed, not-Frank and I aren't even in the same room. And two: I know that the boss is probably waiting for not-Frank to return to his office and let him know that I'll be one my way. And when the boss requests you to do something, there's a lot of pressure to get it done fast.
Both sides of the phone are dead silent as I wait for the man to start talking again. Maybe ten seconds after the outburst, I hear a low murmur from not-Frank. "So she can be quiet." I bite down on my tongue, hard, to stop myself from making a snarky comment. "Don Caruso is hoping that you can come over to the house."
I scoff. Just when I thought I was out, they pulled me back in. Don't get me wrong. I want to say no. After all, when I left, I was hoping to leave behind the whole mafia sha-bang, too. But I know a few things. Like the fact that I will be getting paid pretty nicely for this. And also the fact that business has been a bit slow lately and being able to tell clients that the New York crime boss practically begged to hire me will boost my independent business.
"Give me a couple of hours to get there," I tell him. "And make sure that statue in the front yard is covered up with a sheet or something. The horse's eyes freak me out." Hanging up the phone, my jewelry barren hand grabs the yellow tray with all the greasy food as I stand and throw it all away in the trash.
I take a couple of steps out the door and stop. My senses heighten and my head turns to look to my left. The light from inside the restaurant is what allows me to get a somewhat good look at the homeless man walking on the sidewalk with a slight limb from his left leg. The man's dark beard is disheveled and I can only assume that his hair is pulled back but with the gray hood over I'm not completely sure. Something about him felt off. And when you're in my kind of business, you learn that your intuitions are usually right.
The man wears old blue jeans, a grey hoodie with another red jacket over it, and black tennis shoes, which isn't out of the ordinary when it comes to homeless people. What is out of the ordinary is that his nails are pretty clean and his clothes, while they were old, were in the okay condition. Meaning there aren't any holes, rips, dirt or stains. It was like it was just bought at a thrift store.
I begin walking with purpose in his direction, pretending not to notice him until I bump into him roughly. He loses his balance and falls on his knees as I turn in 'shock.' "Oh my goodness," I gasp. "I am so sorry." I reach down, my right-hand grabs his right arm as I help him off the ground. Discretely while doing this, I slide his sleeve up, getting a glimpse of a high tech watch. "You know, impersonating the homeless is really disrespectful."
Not a second after that sentence falls from my lips, a gun is pulled out from the man's hoodie and he points it straight at me. Where from his hoodie? I don't fucking know. What I do know is that I was tracked by none other than the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division.
S.H.I.E.L.D.
I was tracked by S.H.I.E.L.D.
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living on the edge of the law (biadore) - lily2
bianca is beginning to feel the heat from her old job in brisbane as a personal assistant and planner for a large cooperation record label and now she is being transferred and thrown in the middle of santa monica where she is assigned and paid to be on the tail of up and coming singer and songwriter, adore delano: who is definitely the most lazy and adolescent thing bianca had ever encountered thus far but things can change, can’t they? [ au where adore is a famous singer and bianca has to chase her around and be her personal assistant to get her income, mainly biadore but side ships and plots of course ]
blog
— *.✧
Bianca was a bit unsure what to think, what to do even, while she stood in the midst of Brisbane Airport. Clenching her carry-on as she just had her two suitcases weighed and sent off to what would hopefully be Santa Monica in thirteen damn hours, unless the Qantas airline staff somehow threw her luggage in the fucking Pacific Ocean she should be safe and so should her luggage which mainly was a accumulation of clothing, cosmetics, stationary & a dozen other things that Courtney had helped her pack yesterday as they shared one last drink before forcing themselves to wake up almost three in the morning for Bianca’s early, early flight.
The coffee in her hand making her the only thing fully able to function, she prayed to get some sleep on the plane and was thinking she would since her best friend she should upgrade to the new business class seating, just to try it out and what better time to than a flight that would take more than half a day off her life, over the clouds, planning to do nothing but get wasted on discount white wine’s and gaze her eyes on her laptop which was already harboring a million emails from her transfer company about her position, her hours, schedule, whatever the fuck they wanted to write about they seemed to write about and send to her.
“Wonderful.” She muttered to nobody but herself as she sat dull and already half asleep in her gate’s seating. It would be about another twenty minutes before her section would get to be boarded though Bianca didn’t expect so many on a casual six in the morning flight to Santa Monica, landing in LAX.
—
“I think you should accept the job.” Courtney spoke as she hit her best friend’s shoulder and grinned ear to ear, knowing it would be fun to be back in her own country of birth, “You’ve been trapped down under for almost six years, go and see the motherland again!” The Australian’s lips curling into a viciously attentive smile as the girl next to her simply rolled her eyes and clutched her glass in hand, swirling the alcohol around as their eyes meat briefly.
“I’ve never been to Honduras or Cuba—” correcting Courtney on the fact that America was indeed not the true motherland, it was where she was born and grew up and New Orleans itself could be considered a different fucking continent with all the culture and languages and diverse communities living in one big, united city. “I haven’t heard the best of things about America in general.” Referring to the news in which Courtney could only snicker, “Bad things go on in every country, every city and everywhere! Go and have fun, you know I will come to visit anyway.” They embraced in a small hug before the Australian girl wiped her growing red eyes, Bianca moaning.
“Bitch if you dare get one tear on me I will make sure to whoop your ass so you hard you certainly won’t need a ticket to be in Santa Monica, I’ll express mail you.” Her tone only teasing though she knew deep down, Courtney was the only real person and best friend she had currently, struggling to get back in contact with old friends from America as the time came.
“And maybe you’ll meet someone cute—” elbowing Bianca until she almost rolled Courtney off the bed with a yell, “Don’t even think about it, I came to work and maybe party once in a while, get better money but not for love. Besides, name me one decent American who isn’t taken, straight or a celebrity? You can’t, that’s the point.“
“Whatever happens you know I’ll annoy you and call you constantly, just the usual and casual girl things.” She hummed, the singer folding one of Bianca’s last articles of clothing.
“If you didn’t I would murder you and unfollow you on all your social media, don’t test me motherfucker!” She spat as Courtney collapsed into her lap, “You can cry on Instagram live to all your five million Instagram followers!“
—
Finger tips pressing against her IMac’s keyboard she begun to respond to a work email, this was one of the more interesting ones, about as interesting as assignments and work went but still something to do in whatever time she had left before she would just repeatedly listen to whatever shuffled on her phone once the airplane was in the air.
She had already found out that her job was basically to do what she did with Courtney: boss her around, manage her social media, make sure she was healthy, laughing, whatever shit she needed and help with planning any kind of events, concerts, meetings, anything the record label asked for and needed.
To: [email protected]
Bianca,
We are so excited that you have accepted the offer and I’m hoping the weather pulls through for your flight, you are our first new hire in a few seasons if I may be honest, most can’t handle the pressure, American records and singers are far more different than what it sounds like in Australia!
I have made sure to tell Katya, our head in our department, to ship the packet to the address you provided! I understand the move, I went from Chicago to Santa Monica and it can be alot so please if you need a place to stay let me know! The packet should have exactly what you expect and a few other goods because we try and make it as welcoming as possible, not us being cheesy, us trying not to get fired to be completely real.
Do not lose your ID, even if you use the pin to get in, security is really strict especially with all the mass hysteria with guarding and violence in the past few years, it’s required to clock in, clock out and even enter the bathroom, it sucks, I know but safety comes first I suppose.
Thank you and see you Monday!
— Shea ([email protected])
Atleast it was an actual human beyond the emails so far, better than some rich executive who was scarfing down his fifth coffee of the afternoon and forcing his personal assistant to quietly tap against the grain and send all emails with the same format, copy and paste all day.
“Gate 10 will now boarding flight from Brisbane to Los Angeles, California.”
She stood and reluctantly shut her laptop before putting it in her case, in her carry on and bringing out her passport and boarding pass, chugging some of her overpriced bottled water that she had to purchase after security along with a stash of dark chocolate large enough to last for most likely a week. Bianca made a very decent salary at her last job and would be making even more at this one however she was not ever one to spend more than she had to, Courtney for a singer who was booming in media and charts was suprisingly frugal with her spending most days, which made it twice as fun when they both would go all out and do their once a month goose chase of a spree around town, getting in all the stores they wanted in the span of one single day.
“Well, let’s do this thing.” The words leaving her lips as she sent one last picture to Courtney of her passport and coffee, sending it with the text message of: If you don’t hear from me in twenty hours, I’m probably drunk!
*.✧
The announcement came on and the lights flashed for them to be able to take off their seatbelts and Bianca completely had crashed course after one Hallmark movie, some wine, a Sprite and one entire chocolate bar. She was quick to jump up before she felt completely lagged and dizzy, quickly sitting back down until the rest behind her had gotten their luggage and begun approaching the exit of the plane, cleaning her garbage before she tossed it and grabbed her carry on, absolutely bolting for the door as fast as possible knowing it was a good forty minutes in a regular car to make it to her new studio apartment for god knows how long, Courtney didn’t tell her a thing about it expect her cousin had hooked them up and leased it.
Thanking the staff she quickly felt her entire body want to collapse and throw up, maybe both at the same time, on the rugged floor of LAX, turning her phone off airplane mode and turning on her date plan she had decided to buy the night before just so she could be ready and set for when she landed, knowing Courtney would throw a hissy fit if she wasn’t the first person she texted.
Fingers gliding across her iPhone she grinned, I’m in fucking america! can’t wait to grab some damn takeout and just collapse, meeting someone to take me, call you probably whatever the next time I wake up is! She had done the math in her head, it was about 7:20 PM here but almost 2:20 AM in Brisbane, timezones were about to be hell on Earth but they would make it through.
An absolute dumpster dive of suitcases later she had found both of her own luckily, now heading for the International Arrivals entrance, Bianca had only been to LAX recently and it was for Courtney’s tour, before that she hadn’t really cared for or visited California much, staying in her own bubble. It truly was the epicenter of an entire universe however, as far as crowded airports went, this one was definitely the winner!
“Jinkx!” She shrieked to her auburn haired friend who quickly winced out of her own delusional fantasy and screamed, running towards her oldest friend and happy to have collapsed and almost blacked out in the one person who could understand what it was like to be sleepy and tired though Jinkx had explained a million times that narcolepsy was very different than what movies and shows showed it to be, it was just in very relaxing and quiet surroundings, when she wasn’t doing anything and wasn’t focused on a task.
“I’m so tired but I don’t even care, it’s so great to see you—” Jinkx shaking her friend in her own arms happily before Bianca had to pull away, not wanting to cause a meltdown or throw up on the expensive sneakers she seemed to have on. Grabbing a suitcase much to her newly arrived childhood friend’s concern, “Let’s go, my car is parked and she’s all charger for the trip!”
“I forgot you have a fucking electric car.”
“It’s red to, it has a seat warmer! That’s the biggest perk but also you can program it to do some cool things, I only got the car recently, DeLa was begging me to—” the mention of her college roommate who was also from Seattle made Bianca realize how long she had actually been gone.
“I hate to be an absolute prune the first ten minutes but can we please stop and eat if that’s okay, I don’t wanna eat in your car but fast food inside is fine by me, I texted everyone I need to so now I’m all yours and I’m sure traffic will delay us another fucking three hours.” Finishing her water she tossed the bottle as Jinkx almost smacked her across her back, causing Bianca to choke a bit.
“You really think I won’t let you eat in my car! Jesus Christ, this isn’t our senior year of high school where I had to keep my car spotless, of course we will get food, since you’re in California now we have to start with the local favorite, ever had In N Out?”
A stammer before a tilt of her head came, Jinkx gasping, “I can’t believe self proclaimed critic of food, Bianca Del Rio hasn’t even tried it, much less heard of it.” Cackling, Bianca raised a hand, “Now hold on you shady bitch!”
They made their way to the wonderful Tesla after an influx of stop signs and people shoving to simply get out of the airport. Bianca was definitely impressed, she had seen the cars before but they weren’t her style, it was much more different to actually sit next to Jinkx who immediately pulled out of the car and had her music blasting before Bianca lowered it a bit so she and Jinkx could atleast have a conversation, the girl beside her seeming to know what to do and where to go from here.
“You can type in your address after we go and get some food, so tell me about what it’s like down under, I’m sure you have some stories.”
Smirking, Bianca relaxed into the leather seat and sighed in relief, leaving her phone to charge with her portable charger as she crossed her arms and stared out the front view with Jinkx who was barely even focused on driving given the fact she had the rules of driving out of LAX down, the clouds and sky beginning to turn into a wonderful assembly of warm colors mixed with a vibrant purple.
“Well since you asked.”
#rpdr fanfiction#biadore#bianca del rio#courtney act#jinkx monsoon#shea coulee#adore delano#lesbian au#angst with a happy ending#living on the edge of the law#roza#submission#lily2
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Noah Centineo, Shameless Heartthrob
My date with the best thirst architect the internet’s ever seen.
Now, I put my hand here,” Noah Centineo instructs as he slides his hand in the back pocket of my jeans. “And then we walk a little, like this.” He leads me around the Coney Island Aquarium like that: hip to hip, smiling at each other, his hand, to reiterate, in the back pocket of my jeans. I’ve just shamelessly asked him to re-create his signature move from Netflix’s To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before, an adaptation of Jenny Han’s YA novel, in which he plays Peter Kavinsky, the high-school jock at the center of the film’s romantic plotline. I watched the movie and mentally flagged this scene — where he’s trying to convince a cafeteria full of students he’s dating the protagonist, Lara Jean Covey (Lana Condor) — as the one that made me wonder, Who is that guy? It’s a moment that belongs in a clip reel of classic, chemistry-laden movie moments, and I, a journalist, wondered if it could inspire the same feelings when executed in real life.
Centineo tells me how he totally improvised the move during filming. It was a thing he used to do with his ex-girlfriend. They’d be walking around, like we are now, and he’d realized he could sort of dance her around by the pocket and turn her, “just like this,” and boom, propelled by just a tug on my pocket, I’m suddenly facing him. We’re pelvis to pelvis. He’s smiling, comfortably, and I’m confronted with his hazel eyes, the scent of clean laundry, and pure pheromones. I sort of squeal, I think? Who can say, because I definitely black out for a second.
If I seem thirsty, well, isn’t that the point? At 22, Centineo is the most effective, addictive sort of heartthrob: the kind who absolutely loves being one, the kind who does everything in his power to make us thirst harder than we’ve ever thirsted before — and, yeah, it works. When the movie came out in August, Noah Centineo was immediately, breathlessly given the title of Internet’s Boyfriend. Now, with his second Netflix rom-com, Sierra Burgess Is a Loser, in which he plays yet another lovable, evolved jock, Centineo has graduated to full-on cultural obsession.
In less than a month his Instagram followers went from just under 800,000 to 9.5 million. In the movie, his character drives crosstown to buy his love interest her favorite Korean yogurt drinks — and no joke — Yakult stock has been going up. This man’s floppy hair is actually driving the market. He’s been stalked by fans and now employs an omnipresent security guard named Dave. He’s been the subject of a leaked nude scandal (“I understand why you have to ask that question,” he demurred when I asked him about a certain video that’s been making the rounds. “I just hope you understand why I’m not gonna answer it.”). His Twitter mentions are an anthology of fantasies — some chaste and some really not — written by women of all ages. “Tell them all to hit my line,” he says with a laugh.
We decide to tour the aquarium, where I’m idly waiting for him in the lobby when he walks in shirtless. Shirtless. Without a shirt. Holding his black T-shirt in his hand, instead of wearing it on his torso, which I can see right now. With my eyes. He has a real reason. He’s just been outside, taking pictures on a boardwalk in nearly 100-degree weather. But even with a rational explanation as to why he has no shirt on, the entrance is so on the nose it’s almost ridiculous: a smoking-hot leading man, walking into a room sweaty and half-naked. It’s like there should be a slowed-down frame rate, a treacly indie-pop song playing, a zoom-in of my pupils turning into those hunga hunga hearts. He hands his ticket to the woman at the front desk and apologizes, for some reason, for his bare chest. She makes him put his shirt back on, and greets me with a smile so huge, I can assure you he has zero cavities.
Even offscreen, Centineo, I observe immediately, has that whole thing. It wasn’t just good directing or the right song cued at the right moment that created the effect. He has all the qualities deemed necessary by early-in-life fans of Teen Bop and Devon Sawa at the end of Casper: white sneakers (Vans, of course), an easy charm, and a tendency to play it fast and loose with knowing, meaningful eye contact that says “I see you.” He knows the right way to lean against a wall, how to twirl a specific clump of hair so it slouches over one eye. He’s even got an imperfection you can moon over: this tiny scar on his chin from where his dog tried to rip his face off when he was a kid. When he greets me with a hug, it’s the kind of genuine, intentional, full-body contact that makes me feel like he’d write me a letter every day and build me a house.
“I’ve always played the love interest,” Centineo says. “I’ve trained for it for a while. These roles are just molds I can pour myself into.” He grew up in Miami, with a few years’ interlude in Park City, which he hated because he never felt like he fit in. He started acting as a preteen when he attended a general casting call sort of on a lark, but he enjoyed it so much he eventually dropped out of his Boca Raton high school sophomore year and moved to Los Angeles with his mom to pursue it full-time. Since then Centineo’s been playing graduating levels of “crush”: first on a tween-friendly Disney show Austin & Ally, then on a teen-friendly Freeform show, The Fosters, and now for admiring audiences of all ages on Netflix rom-coms (To All the Boys, Sierra Burgess, and one deep cut for the algorithm-determined real fans, SPF 18.)
“I like this rowboat. Do you want to sit in this rowboat,” he asks, upon discovering a fake rowboat stuck in the corner of an exhibition about ponds. (Fake rowboat, a move.) Ever the leading man, he gets in first to steady the fake boat, and helps me in. Then, he directs yet another adorable moment for us, and starts rocking the boat back and forth, like we’re on a real pond, laughing this huge, full-throated laugh like the only thing he’s ever wanted to do was crouch in a plastic rowboat with me. And even though we both know the answer to the question, I ask, “Why do you think everyone is going nuts over you right now?”
“People love love,” he says, and begins to explain how both of his recent movies “empower” people. “I think these are just great examples of feel-good films, how could you not like something that makes you feel good?”
He stops talking and looks at me, a little concerned. “If you’re still warm, we should move,” he suggests, perhaps noticing the sweat pouring from my forehead and rolling down to my chin. It’s such a hot day, even the AC inside has given up. “I just want you to feel comfortable,” he says thoughtfully, adding, “Don’t worry, I also sweat like a motherfucker.”
It’s now his mission to find the coolest spot in the aquarium. He leads me down some stairs, back up the same stairs once he realizes they lead to a bathroom. We go around all the exhibits, while he looks up at the ceiling, in the corners, searching for an air vent, determined to find the perfect spot to get the full blast. We finally do. “Can you feel it?” he asks, one last time, before he seems satisfied, parked in front of a manmade reef. It’s a specific sort of gallantry I recognize from his roles, the ones he describes as manly and masculine, but also “sensitive, emotionally intelligent, loving, nurturing, and protective.”
“That’s just what a great man is in life and in general,” he shrugs. In his two most well-known parts (both of which occurred in the past month) he plays an updated version of a familiar type of crush. In To All the Boys, a lacrosse player who loves Fight Club but drinks kombucha and falls for the film’s Korean-American protagonist. In the other, Sierra Burgess, a quarterback who thinks the cheerleader is way hot, but instead falls for the brainy girl who catfishes him. In both, he displays a preference for the unexpected love interest. In both, he drives a Jeep Wrangler, the preeminent car of teen crushes. He’s not the mysterious, brooding type à la Robert Pattinson in Twilight, he doesn’t have the cold, intellectual appeal of Timothée Chalamet’s character in Lady Bird. He’s not pure Zac Efron dumb-hot-frat boy or even the misunderstood, sexually experienced bad boy like the ones Adam Driver plays. What Centineo does well — and what nobody has really done with such conviction since Freddie Prinze Jr. — is play a simple, suburban-mall kind of crush with Stanislavski dedication. That’s it. He’s just fully nice and hot at a time that feels like “nice and hot” is a rare resource. He’s a throwback to a more classic sort of wish fulfillment.
In fact, Centineo can see a whole career based around this: being good at love. He imagines all the potential types of roles he can explore: romantic dramas, other types of rom-coms, action romantic comedies, edgier, more toxic and dangerous types of love. “There’s so many degrees to love. I think I have a lot more to offer the space,” he says. He’s got a few projects lined up already, most notably a movie coming out in 2019 called The Stand-In. He plays a post-grad who launches a start-up, which requires him to loan himself out as a fake boyfriend.
“Whoa whoa! That motherfucker just came through so quick! He ran up on us with his boy.”
Centineo jumps back and marvels at some large fish that just came swimming right at his head. He makes a kissy-fish face back at the fish. What a lovely time we’re having. Looking at fish! Then he points to a placard and carefully reads out the description for Slippery Dick, a type of fish native to this particular tank, and chuckles. Then I read one about the French Grunt. I have no idea what’s going on. I point to a particularly fascinating fish, and he leans in to see, angling his head so his hair brushes my hand. Our arms accidentally touch.
“How’d you get so good at flirting,” I’m compelled to ask.
“Am I flirting?” he laughs and leans and looks down at the floor. “I don’t know — I’m fucking so romantic. Like, such a romantic — it’s not even funny. I can’t help it. I swear to God, like, every day, the majority of my day is sentimental. You know, I’m thinking about past relationships I’ve been in, how I miss them so much or what I would do different, or why I wanna be with them again, or just moments I’d like to go back to or I know why I shouldn’t go back, and then you know, it’s just constantly love, love, love.”
He’s a Taurus, ruled by Venus, he offers by way of explanation. “That means a couple things: one, like I need a lot of nurturing, and two, Venus is love, I’m ruled by love.” His favorite movie is Gaspar Noe’s Love, his favorite feeling is being in love (which he has been, twice). I bet if you could cook Love and serve it over pasta, it would be his favorite meal. He lives, breathes, and expels love. His Instagram is a steady stream of soul-baring, puppy-dog-eyed selfies — “I’m pretty vain,” he jokes. His Twitter alternates between sort of yoga studio platitudes and vague flirtations like “Fuck…you’re so cute,” or, more in line with my personal interests, “THE BLACKER THE BERRY.”The messages are to nobody specific, he says — he’s single right now — they could be to somebody he just met, or he met before, or he saw across the room, or just to everybody.
Dating is going to be hard for him from now on, he suspects, even though he really doesn’t want to change how he pursues someone he likes (open-heartedly, passionately, purely) but he’s started worrying about the reasons people want to date him. Is it just because he’s more famous now? Do they just want to date Peter Kavinksy? But are Kavinsky and Centineo really so different? “I’m definitely not as innocent—” he says, with a gaze, because why say anything if you aren’t going to commit.
Centineo continues to list the differences, both philosophical and material: He’s more apt to jump out of a plane or just sit in nature than his characters. He doesn’t live in the suburbs, he lives in Los Angeles with his older sister and her boyfriend. He likes yoga and martial arts. He parties with friends. He starts every day at 6 a.m. with oatmeal, the recipe for which he begins detail, slowly: “I do Irish steel-cut oats, I do almond butter, coconut butter uh, coconut oil, honey, uh, chopped bananas, and, and, uh, like, hemp granola,” and I’m struck with this familiar feeling of being completely entranced by a man saying absolutely nothing interesting to me, which, oh right, yes, is infatuation.
#do people like these#will i post them more?#noah centineo#interview#the cut#140918#september 18#2017
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Two Halves Of My Rainbow (4/?)
Hey-o. Still doing that Jerevinwood soulmate AU, this one with hints of casual Alfreyan in it.
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, AO3
Ryan’s familiar with guns. From training, from field duty, from the one pistol he owns to the grenade launchers they confiscate from unwieldy crew members, from rat-tat-tat-tat ammo and the thick, heavy booms of rockets, the resulting debris that skitters across the crime scenes.
He’s familiar with cars. From his own, from the FIB ones, from high-speed chases down motorways to road blockades, from cumbersome vans with too much weight on the back wheels and armoured supercars taken away to be stripped for parts, or freed of their extra cocaine baggage.
Ryan’s not quite familiar with being on the wrong side of it all.
And he’s definitely not that familiar with motorbikes.
But Alfredo apparently trusted him enough for this, swinging a leg behind Ryan on the bike and yelling at him to go as sirens whoops behind them and Ryan guns the engine, following a path he knows like the back of his hand, weaving through traffic and it’s not panic building in his throat for once but rather adrenaline, making his skin tingle and his hands sweat in the leather gloves. He can hear Alfredo shooting behind him, the pop and burst of tyres as Alfredo clears their tail – there’s bullets whizzing by them as well, tearing into the road either side of them and ricocheting off of surrounding vehicles, terrifying and thrilling all at once and Ryan can’t help but smile to himself under his helmet.
It wasn’t even a big hit, just a quick pit-stop at Ammu-Nation to liberate them of some extra guns, and here Ryan is, being chased by the same people Geoff and Michael are working with, running for his life and loving it more than he ever thought he would.
He’s clumsy on the turns, oversteering and wobbling a bit but Alfredo doesn’t seem concerned, just holds onto him tighter and whoops when they’re free of the cops, wrapping both his arms around Ryan and his gun knocking against Ryan’s hip.
Ryan is so out of his depth.
He loves it.
--
Ryan learns quickly. Picks up on all the little subtleties and amasses more guns and runs more jobs with Alfredo – simple two-people heists, gas stations and drug deals and the sort of shit that garners him a reputation.
He picks out Vagabond one late night over dinner with Alfredo, hooking sticky noodles around his chopsticks and toying with the cube of chicken as they talk.
And Vagabond he becomes.
Ryan’s killed people before, sure, in the line of duty, but like this it’s almost better – no red tape and no paperwork and nothing but surety when he fires a bullet between the eyes of the guy running the local sex slavery ring the FIB have been trying to break up for months and bam, over. He’ll leave the paperwork to his former colleagues.
He hasn’t heard a fucking word about any new crime duo. He figures Gavin and Jeremy are laying low, but in the meantime Ryan’s plunged himself into a whole new lifestyle and he’s floundering a little, a constant struggle between fight and flee and life and death.
He abandons his house. Leaves a cryptic goodbye at Geoff’s door with apologies for Jack and Michael in there as well and takes up residence in a shitty little flat on the edges of Vespucci and tries not to regret.
The panic creeps in sometimes, when he’s alone and sitting on the flimsy balcony and trying to rationalise – he can’t rationalise – what, he left his stable job and stable income and his friends to go run off and become a criminal in the city he once protected? All because of some stupid fucking soulmates who gave him colour and didn’t even know him? All because of – of –
And that’s the part when Ryan’s brain shuts down and the world is big and scary and terrifying and he buries his face in his hands to muffle himself and the only little shred of hope he can use to remind himself where he is and what he’s doing is that he knows what colour the creeping vines on his balcony railing are.
--
“Ryan?” Alfredo asks while they’re unloading guns in his office, dumping them unceremoniously on the desk and uncaring of the paperwork scattered over the surface.
“Yeah?” Ryan replies distractedly, fixing the precarious position of a few pistols.
“Can you hand me that blue paperclip?”
“Sure.” Without thinking, Ryan reaches for the blue plastic paperclip in the bowl and offers it up – and pauses, and looks up, and sees Alfredo’s eyes narrowed a little, his nose scrunched up as he scrutinises him.
“Lucky guess?” Ryan jokes, but it falls flat.
“I knew there was something different,” Alfredo says. “You’ve met them, haven’t you?”
Ryan carefully declines to answer, swallowing thickly and dropping the paperclip to shove his hands in his jacket pockets.
“When?” Alfredo asks. “Last time I saw you – the Dewsbury bust-up. You were still...”
Ryan still doesn’t answer.
“It’s why you left the agency, isn’t it?” Alfredo continues, softer.
“Thanks for all the help, ‘Fredo,” Ryan says quietly, and turns to go – Alfredo catches him around the arm and Ryan turns his head away, blinking back something he doesn’t want to name. Shame, fear, embarrassment, regret. That age-old panic that never fades away no matter how much he does.
“Who are they?” Alfredo asks.
“I...don’t know,” Ryan admits. “I don’t – I don’t know.”
“Why didn’t you tell me - ”
“It’s not important,” Ryan says gruffly, yanking his arm away. Alfredo grunts and claps a hand on his shoulder to hold him back, stepping around to stand beside him.
“I think it’s pretty fucking important, Agent,” Alfredo spits. “You’re different.”
“I’m a criminal.”
“Not just like that. I remember working with you before.”
“Alfredo - ”
“Who’s so important you gave up your life for them?”
Ryan – can’t answer that. Doesn’t know how to. Doesn’t even know where the fuck to begin – two idiots playing computer games irresponsibly late, two idiots laughing over some stupid inside joke Ryan wasn’t even in on, two fucking idiots getting themselves hurt and patching each other up, two stupid motherfucking idiots that crawled their stupid way into Ryan’s life and into Ryan’s mind and filled in the rest of the world like a colouring book for him and he thinks somewhat moronically that if he ever met them, the I love you would roll off his tongue easier than the hello, I’m Ryan, who are you? and isn’t that just ridiculous.
“Like I said,” Ryan says, chews up the words and spits them out much harsher than the first time. “I don’t know.”
Alfredo studies him for a moment more and then releases him, stepping back to let Ryan move freely.
“I hope they’re worth it,” he says.
I hope so, too, Ryan thinks but doesn’t say. Leaves with a gruff see you tomorrow and knocks against the doorframe on the way out.
--
Despite the panic, despite the unknown, despite the residual regret still crawling up Ryan’s spine and sometimes blooming across his consciousness in fitful sleep and trembling fingers, he pushes on. Learns and fights and learns some more, takes hard hits and harder falls – Alfredo’s there to catch him, and he’s there to catch him right back, almost literally most of the time.
And Ryan doesn’t lose his morals. No he fucking doesn’t – he sticks to hurting only those who deserve it, refuses any outside offers that require anything else. Alfredo’s, thankfully, on the same lines as him, tells him what bosses to avoid and what types of deals to decline, who’s good for what and who’s scum of the earth.
Not as many people as Ryan thought, honestly.
But he sticks with Alfredo and he grows in leaps and bounds, and his turns on the bike aren’t so clumsy anymore and he’s a quicker draw on the guns – much quicker on the SMGs now, and pretty decent on sniper rifles thanks to Alfredo’s training.
Right now, during a quiet evening after a busy day, he’s on cleaning duty, leaning against the railing of his shitty little balcony and wiping a rag over his rifle – Alfredo tugs open his fridge inside and signs something – Ryan responds with a quick gesture and Alfredo nods, shooting him a thumbs up before he reaches in.
Alfredo collapses beside Ryan a minute later, cracking open a soda and passing it over as he pops the tab on his own, clinking it with a laugh against Ryan’s before drinking. The sunset stripes over Alfredo’s face in a pleasant glow, softening all his edges and bringing out the gentlest sort of warmth Ryan could only ever imagine just months ago.
“Hey, gimme a taste of that,” Alfredo asks, jerking his chin towards Ryan’s can. Ryan starts to offer it up but Alfredo leans in to catch his lips instead, grinning at Ryan’s little huff of laughter.
“Coulda just asked,” Ryan mumbles. Alfredo lightly smacks his hand and Ryan turns it palm-up to feel what Alfredo’s about to say.
Shut up, Alfredo signs.
Shutting up, Ryan replies.
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A$AP Rocky Talks New Album, Under Armour Deal, and His Deep Love of Flowers
Our interview with A$AP Rocky was supposed to take place backstage after an A$AP Mob concert in Philly, in a quiet, empty room, but in the moment, Rocky had a better idea. “We need to capture this chaos right here,” he said, gesturing around his dressing room, still packed with Mob members, girls, security guards, other unidentified loiterers, and even (according to A$AP Ferg, anyway) a loose mouse. “Let's embrace the chaos,” Rocky suggested. “Rolling Stones in 1967, feel me?”
He took his spot in the middle of a leather couch, surrounded by his old friends from Harlem—Ferg, Nast, Ant, and Twelvyy—and started methodically breaking down a small mound of weed as he spoke in a post-concert rasp. Every so often, he'd tease me for asking so many questions. But some of them he didn't mind so much: GQ Style had collected them from a few of Rocky's notable friends and admirers, with a promise of bringing back answers.
The chaos Rakim Mayers attracts is a result of his charisma, which is raw and uncut. It is el puro, perhaps the purest of any star in pop culture—Hollywood, music, fashion, whatever. And given that Rocky's mom named him and his elder sister, Erika B. Mayers, after Eric B. & Rakim, it was only natural that a kid who seems to crank up the color saturation whenever he walks into a room would channel his God-given wattage into rap music. From the beginning, though, Rocky also established himself as a style innovator and made fashion an inextricable part of his music. In his breakout video, for “Peso,” he repped hard-edged, gothic-leaning streetwear like Black Scale, as well as more established avant-garde fashion like Rick Owens and Y3, while rapping, Raf Simons, Rick Owens usually what I'm dressed in. That was back in 2011, long before he cemented Simons's unlikely hip-hop-icon status with the song “Raf” this July. It's not a stretch to say Rocky is partially responsible for making European high fashion as much a part of hip-hop and pop culture as streetwear.
In the six years since he first appeared on YouTube, everything he's touched has taken on a sort of magical flyness. He's put out three successful solo albums; recorded hit songs like “L$D,” “Yamborghini High” with the A$AP Mob, and “Fuckin Problems” with Drake, Kendrick Lamar, and 2 Chainz; stole scenes in the surprise-hit indie film Dope, co-starring Shameik Moore; and launched a creative agency, called AWGE. Later this year, he'll appear in Anthony Mandler's Monsterand he'll begin a wide-ranging, long-term collaboration with Under Armour. He's become a rap star, a fashion godhead, a music mogul, an actor, a designer-entrepreneur-influencer—a true creative in universes where everyone calls themselves creatives.
Now, after two years spent racking up all those hyphens, he is ready to return to the first thing that made him: rap music. But things are a little different this time. In January 2015, Rocky's best friend, business partner, and mentor, A$AP Yams, passed away in bed at his Brooklyn apartment from an accidental prescription-drug overdose. Rocky was there the night of Yams's death and was among those who found him. A few months later, in May, Rocky released At.Long.Last.A$AP; on the album cover, Rocky's face bears Yams's signature purplish red birthmark. This new album will be Rocky's fourth, but his first ever made entirely without the guiding presence of Yams.
When we met in London for the GQ Style cover shoot, Rocky was deep in his work zone, trying to finish the record. He was keeping his phone turned off, more or less, so he could try to complete the LP before jumping to Milan for the Gucci runway show and then returning to the States for a long tour with the Mob. He's 29 now—he's seen a lot, and even his friends have questions about where he's been and where he's going next.
GQ Style: The first question comes from Mahershala Ali: “Considering you were named after Rakim, one of the greatest MCs of all time, what legendary MC would you name your child after?”
A$AP Rocky: Wow, that's a good one. Let me think on it.
You're punting on the first question?
Yeah, but only because it's so good.
All right, we'll come back to it. The second question comes from Dior designer Kris Van Assche. You may have heard of him.
Rocky: Dior boys.
A$AP Twelvyy: From Paris!
Kris asks, “What was a typical Friday or Saturday night out for you like when you were a teenager?”
A$AP Ferg: Fighting in clubs.
Rocky: Oh, you want me to tell them the Santos story?
Ferg: You love telling that story.
Rocky: All right, one time in Santos [Party House, a New York City nightclub], it was like 2008. We took the train from Harlem. I had on this Marc Jacobs shirt, these D&G pants—'cause I was wearing D&G back then—and Marc Jacobs sneakers. Ferg, you had on the black Acne pants, with the blue jean jacket, and Nast, you had the blue jean jacket with the seam, with the black Acne pants, and the black Timbs, with the Super glasses on, with the 'fro, 'cause you was on your Jay-Z shit, trying to wolf up. A lot of A$AP members were there that day. I'ma come clean, we was in the club, and A$AP Bari was trying to talk to some dude's girlfriend. Next thing you know, the dude got mad. He looked like some wrestling dude. He was big, with long hair. He's like, “What?!” to everybody. We was like, “Yo, chill,” but he kept going crazy. So [Harlem-based visual artist] Jay West put him in a headlock, I snuffed him, he fell, everybody kicked him, we all dispersed, we ran.
A$AP Nast: Let's talk about the Ferg punches.
Rocky: Don't forget about the Ferg punches! Ferg said, “Don't touch my friend!” Boom, boom, boom! [laughter]
Ferg: I did not say that.
Rocky: That shit was echoing through the man's body! When the dude got up, the first person he spot was me with the pink shirt on, so he just start charging, like a mad raging bull, and he grabbed my head. Now we on the motherfucking dance floor, fighting like females, pulling each other's hair. I'm biting this motherfucker's thumb and pinkie and shit, going crazy, snuffing him. This motherfucker must've been on mollies and liquor. Next thing you know, I just see feet running my way. Ferg came through. Nigga said, “Get off my friend!” Ferg was mad concerned. It was sincere. He was like, “Get off my friend!”
Ferg: I did not say that.
Rocky: So then, we all leave out the club. We outside. Your man, he was a manager of the club, so he come out, bugging out with his security guards. He throw ice at all of us and hops in a cab. We run down on the cab, take him out the cab, and start beating him up while we're screaming “A$AP!” So that's how everybody knew us back then. Next question.
What's your number one priority?
Right now, it's music. Last year was businesses and developing all our new artists. Playboi Carti went platinum. Smooky MarGielaa is on the rise. Twelvyy album came out. A$AP Ferg mixtape came out—he always got number ones and bangers. Nast, Addie, up next. Cozy Tapes Vol. 2 is out right now. Now it's all about me making music again.
What do you say to people who say that you're “more fashion than music”?
I can see why they think that sometimes. I really wanted to take time out to show people I was an entrepreneur. I'm a businessman—you gotta take me serious. I can't help that I look good doing it. But if you just look at my catalog from this year, everything I get on, I body. I'm selective about what I get on. I'm particular. I wasn't really featuring with other artists. But this year, I'm showing niggas stop playing me, stop sleeping on me. I'm the god of this shit.
So when we saw you in London recently, you were on a phone-off lockdown, making an album. What was the vibe—the starting point for the new album?
My new album is really about testing new sounds. People are scared to test new sounds, so they go with what's current 'cause it's the easy thing to do. The top 100 songs sound a certain way. People cater more to that because it's a bigger demographic behind that, or it's a guaranteed demographic behind that. I prefer to experiment and have my crowd grow with me and to reach new crowds. I don't just rap—I actually make music. That's why it takes time. These sonics represent me.
Did you go to London for the sound of London, or was it more just getting away so you could focus?
Both. London has a cool sound. I always record in London. But I needed to get away. London's my second home.
When do you want to put the album out?
ASAP—no pun intended.
This year?
Yes, sir.
Your travel schedule is intense. When you're always on the move, where's your center, or your home? Do you ever wake up in another hotel room and wonder, “Who am I?”
Fuck no. Sometimes I do wake up like, “Where the fuck am I?” But not “Who am I?” I'm the same nigga I was when I went to sleep.
You've had relationships with Dior and Gucci. You seem to have a personal relationship with Raf. How do you characterize those connections?
Sometimes it's business, and sometimes it's friendship. Raf had me flying out to Antwerp so I could smoke my weed and just catch a vibe with him back in 2012 and 2013. I've been looking at him and [Rick Owens's wife and muse] Michèle Lamy for advice. Michèle Lamy is like my fairy godmom.
What do you and Michèle talk about when it's not Paris Fashion Week double-kiss time?
Art. She's the reason I got all these diamonds in my mouth. She had hers since 1985. She puts me on. She tries to make me evolve as an artist. She encourages me to do more things outside of musical arts—more contemporary art. She taught me the difference between masters and Renaissance and contemporary and Pop art. It's been a journey. Raf, we talk about collections, we talk about his favorite scenes—what rave scenes inspired most of his career.
Do you talk with them about, like, feelings and personal stuff? Or is it mostly art and the industry?
Yeah, Michèle Lamy be hooking me up with all type of models—not all type of models, but her friends who she thinks is sweet. She says, “You need to meet her, she's a nice girl…,” and I go meet her. They either crazy or nice.
Here's a question from Raf Simons.
Oh, it's lit.
“Dear Rakim—”
Oh, that's my guy. That's the lord right there, big bro.
“If you could not do what you're doing now, what would you do? What's another life dream of yours?”
If I wasn't doing this, to be real with you, I'd probably be an interior decorator.
Nast: You could be a florist.
Rocky: Yeah, I could. I have such good taste. I love flowers. I think decor value and feng shui is important. If not, I'd be a video director or a film director. But my whole life, I just wanted to be a rapper. That was it.
The Balenciaga sneakers that you wore in our shoot: They're a little controversial, and I would like to know why you like them.
I seen those early, and I like them 'cause they remind me of a Raf Simons sneaker, and on top of that, those shits are fire—
A$AP Ant: Shit is trash—
Rocky: He's hating 'cause he got the fake Rick Owens Balenciaga shits. I don't fuck with them shits. I only fucks with the ones I got. I call 'em the Larry Davids, you feel me?
You've been wearing a lot of yellow recently—shoelaces, hoodies, et cetera. What's the deal?
You ask a lot of questions. I'm just preparing for a final test, that's all.
Okay, well, the next question is from Shameik Moore.
That's my son.
“What advice do you have for getting more creative with your personal style?”
Nast: Wear what suits you and not what's trendy.
Rocky: Yeah, but when we wear stuff that suits us and not what's trendy, it becomes a trend. So that might be confusing for people. I would just say that everybody's different. Everybody got different body shapes and whatnot, so I would say stick to what you know fits you best and what you feel comfortable in, even if it's not in style. Just wear whatever makes you feel cozy.
Nast: That's kind of what I just said.
Your creative group, AWGE: First of all, how do you pronounce it? Second of all, what is it?
Nast: That question we don't speak of.
Rocky: The first rule of AWGE is you never repeat what AWGE stands for. Second rule of AWGE is, whenever in doubt, refer to the first rule. So there you have it.
Is it not “A$AP Worldwide Global Enterprises”?
Nah. You on some bullshit. That's sacred.
What have you learned about leadership since the Mob's rise into the public consciousness?
Fellowship. Brotherhood. I try to manifest leadership into anything I do as an entrepreneur, as a businessman. But when I'm doing music, it's the element with the brothers. We all lead by example and lead each other, so I lead and follow, too, you know?
You just announced a new deal with Under Armour. Why Under Armour? And what can we expect?
People would assume, with me going into a business deal with a sports brand, that it would be all about designing or curating a line—making things more lit. But what I liked about Kevin Plank, the CEO of Under Armour, was that he had a vision. He gives, gives, gives. When you donate or you do charities, it's not about showing people “Look, I'm doing this.” I was in a shelter myself. And I know that when people be donating and shit, you ain't get no fly shit at Christmases and all that. You don't see no money. Pardon my French, but you don't see no money. So I really want to make a difference. So I got with Kevin and Under Armour so we could open up real rec centers with fly shit in them. Not hand-me-down toys and technology—new stuff. And programs for kids to learn to become entrepreneurs, designers, athletes. They can screen-print their own tees and sell 'em from the store, get that commission on it. I think it's smart. Those kids need laptops and phones today—that's their platform. So I want to do something that's really gonna make a difference, as opposed to fronting with the cameras like, “Ah, I'm doing this, doing that.” We gonna show and prove when we go and design uniforms. We're gonna start in New York, the tristate area, 'cause that's where I'm from. And then go to different junior high schools and high schools throughout the country.
But commerce being commerce, you're going to have to sell some stuff to fund those programs. So are you gonna design a line with Under Armour? A$AP Rocky sneakers?
I'm talking about giving away to schools. That's not selling, bro—you don't make any money off of that. What are you talking about? I want to facilitate ways for kids to get better education without calling it education, 'cause that shit sounds boring. I want to make a way for being smart to be cool. There's nothing wrong with being a thinker. Where I'm from, being smart has a negative connotation—that means you sold out, that means you're a geek. I'm just trying to say, “Fuck all that. This is the plan: You are the future, that other shit is the past, so let's make a better way.” And if I feel like designing some shit with Under Armour, I will.
Question from André 3000.
Oohhh, it's lit.
“What hidden talent do you have that only your parents or close people know?”
Twelvyy: He's good at playing Pokémon and shit. Yo, you see him with like 500 Pokémon cards.
Nast: He's the best at double-Dutching.
A hidden talent—something maybe only your mom knows.
Well, we might have to call my moms, then. [pauses to think] I display mostly all my talents. Right? I'm creative, intricate—angelic at moments. You gonna make me sound real conceited right now talking about myself. Why don't you tell me what it is?
Well, there's a second question from 3000: “What hobby or craft would you like to be doing that is completely outside music or fashion?”
I want to design furniture. Maybe a sofa. Or a bed.
Ferg: You did design one of your beds in the house.
Rocky: I know I did, but I want to sell my joints. That was just me testing.
Switching gears: What does God look like?
Everybody has a different God. I don't know if God is a female, male, or even in human form. I pray to somebody. Religion is deep. Everybody got a different God, but I just respect everybody for their beliefs. It is what it is. I'm more spiritual than anything. Because I find flaws and contradiction in a lot of religions, respectfully, and I just take the good out of all religions and try to practice to be a better person.
You pray every day?
Yes, I pray every day. I pray over cookies. I say my grace, straight up and down.
You've experienced loss in your family. A few times over the years, as far as I know, and then you guys as friends and collaborators and a crew experienced the loss of Yams. Do you feel like you've grieved, or did you just keep working?
Keep working. I'm not gonna lie. Because if we grieve it, it might take everything out of us. [long silence]
How'd you get the scar on your face?
When I was 15, I had a fight with some niggas in the Bronx, on Arthur Avenue. This older guy gun-butted me while we was fighting. He was trying to rob my Pelle Pelle jacket. I still kept it, though. It was bloody. My sister Erika bought me that for Easter. I wasn't about to give my shit up. Fuck outta here. If you've ever seen Jim Jones's “Certified Gangsters” video, he had it on in black. I had it in white with the colorful Easter P's on it.
All right, so we're back to where we started—the question from Mahershala Ali. “Considering you're named after Rakim, one of the greatest MCs of all time, what legendary MC would you name your child after?”
Twelvyy: Yambo?
Ferg: Yami's not a MC, though.
Twelvyy: What you mean?
Rocky: No, he was a singer, bro. He was an R&B singer. As far as rapper…I'd probably name my child Pharrell.
Ferg: I knew he was gonna say that.
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New J2 Fic: Massage Therapy
Title: Massage Therapy
Pairing: Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki
Rating: E/NC17
Warnings: none
Summary: Jared is grumpy. Jensen wants to help out. There's a happy ending.
For @justanothersaltandburn as part of my 200 follower celebration.
Prompt: Jared is incredibly tense (tough scene, argument, etc) and Jensen gives him a massage -- with or without a happy ending ;) ?
Hope you like it!!
On A03
Jared slammed the plate down onto the table, making the fries bounce and ensuring that a few peas succeeded in their bid for freedom. The green beans just shivered in place, and Jensen shuddered looking at them; but it was too early to let his new co-star in on all his weird hang ups. They’d only been filming together for a couple of months; Jared didn’t need to know that the man he’d be spending at least the next seven months with had food-related trauma from his childhood.
Pulling himself together, he looked fully at his co-star. “What’s up, Jay?”
Jared scowled back at him.
“What’s up? What’s up?” Jared asked rhetorically. “What’s up is that they’re out of chilli. I’ve had to have 3 plates of pasta instead.” Jared looks intensely annoyed about this development, an unusual change from his usual sunny self and frankly, from his usual willingness to eat absolutely anything going.
“But you like pasta, Jay.”
“Well I wanted chilli today.” Jared pouts, and Jensen can’t help but find it adorable. He finds everything Jared does adorable, and that’s something else his co-star just doesn’t need to know.
“Stop being a baby,” he says, and throws a ketchup-covered fry from his own plate at Jared. It catches him right above the eye, leaving a red drip down his face that looks uncannily like their make- up from yesterday, and Jared snaps out of it a little, sticking his tongue out at Jensen and crossing his eyes.
“You’re gonna pay for that,” Jared threatens.
“Bring it, bitch,” Jensen replies, easy, and sits back to wait for retribution.
****
Filming that afternoon is a bitch. Their new director is strict, and doesn’t have much of a sense of humour. Jensen wishes for Kim to be back with all his might, because while no one in their right mind would mess with Kim, he agrees with Jensen and Jared when it comes to wanting a relaxed, happy set. A week and a half, Jensen sighs to himself.
The scene they’re filming is difficult, a long action sequence interspersed with dialogue, and it requires extras to be on set as well. Everyone is a little tense, and Jensen himself is having more than a little trouble hitting his mark and his lines at the same time. Jared is in a similar situation, and clearly getting more and more frustrated, muttering to himself and even at one point smacking himself on the forehead.
Jensen has been waiting for a good twenty minutes for the director to see the light and call a break, so that everyone can head off somewhere quiet for a few minutes and just chill out. Hellishly, it takes another 10 minutes of wasted film before the director realises that he’s not going to get anything productive out of absolutely anyone. He finally calls it, ordering everyone to go and relax. Jensen sighs with relief; hopefully a short break will help to get everyone back on track.
Jared drops his script onto his chair and storms off the set, long legs propelling him faster than Jensen can follow. Luckily, Jensen can take a pretty firm guess at where Jared is heading: not to his trailer, but out to the lot behind the main carpark where his dogs will be exercising with their sitter at this time.
A quick walk later, winding his way between the trailers and cars and crew bustling about to set up the next scene on the other stage; and he finds out he was right. Jared is indeed out with his dogs, but instead of running about and wrestling with them as usual, he’s on the floor, both dogs piled on top of him. Jared’s got his head buried in Sadie’s fur and Harley is enthusiastically licking all over Jared’s neck and the little of his face his doggy tongue can reach. Jared’s shoulders are set, tense; and even from a few feet away Jensen can tell that Jared has his hands buried tightly in Sadie’s fur.
He spends a few seconds wondering whether his presence will be welcomed, but eventually decides that Jared’s vow of undying friendship, delivered sloppily into Jensen’s neck last Saturday evening after far too many tequila shots, was meant to cover just this eventuality.
“Make up are gonna love the dog spit,” he says lightly to alert Jared to his presence.
Jared looks up, eyes a little glassy. “Don’t care.” The pout is back, and it’s just as cute as before; Jensen squashes the inappropriate thoughts that always come any time he thinks about Jared’s pretty pink mouth. A boner will not be helpful in this situation.
“Wanna play throw with them for a few minutes? We got another ten before we gotta head back.”
Jared shakes his head resolutely, and Jensen is now beginning to worry that something is actually wrong. Jared has never not wanted to play with his dogs before. Head on one side, he contemplates Jared while he wonders what to do for the best.
Jared is curled up almost completely over Sadie, who is putting up with being caged in with very good grace. His silky brown hair, getting longer every day, falls down over Sadie in a tumble of curls, hiding his face. Jensen takes a moment to admire the long legs, splayed out around Sadie, before he makes a decision.
Harley is still snuffling at the back of Jared’s neck, but he looks up sharply when he hears Jensen’s voice. “Harley, fetch,” Jensen says, and the giant dog barrels off in search of his ball. Over excited, he comes rocketing back towards Jensen, who doesn’t quite anticipate what’s going to happen next.
Before he’s realised, he’s on his ass on the ground, Harley’s weight trampling bruises into his ribs. Jensen can’t help but laugh through the pain, wrestling the ball from Harley’s mouth, and it makes Jared look up finally.
“Harley, no!” Jared shouts, scandalised, as he realises that Jensen, in full Dean costume, is on course to roll into a puddle. “No!”
Jared jumps up, Sadie skittering away from him in panic, and throws himself towards Harley and Jensen. They all roll in the opposite direction, away from the puddle, and Jensen is pleased to hear Jared’s laugh booming out around the parking lot as they play fight on the ground, Sadie throwing herself into the mix as well.
Mission accomplished, he thinks.
***
By the time they’re wrapping up filming, Jensen is beginning to doubt whether his plans for this evening are a good idea. Jared had invited him around for dinner and video games; a routine they’ve developed over the past couple of months to help them both relax. But Jared is clearly in an absolutely terrible mood; on top of being upset about his lunch and storming off earlier, he’s now snapped at two PAs and sassed their stick-up-his-arse new director, all behaviour that is so wildly out of character that Jensen is worried. But maybe, he thinks, Jared just needs a night alone to de-stress, and so maybe it would be best to cancel their plans. Even though Jensen would like nothing more than spending a night on Jared’s sofa with Jared’s leg pressed against his and Jared’s elbow periodically digging into his chest.
He’s about to suggest this to Jared as his friend comes towards him, missing the usual bounce in his step.
“Still on for tonight?” Jared asks, before Jensen has a chance to say anything. Puppy eyes peek at him, causing an uncomfortable fluttering in Jensen’s tummy.
“I am if you are,” Jensen replies, wondering where his spine has disappeared to.
“Course. Let’s get going.”
Their ride back is quiet, even the dogs worn out by their antics that afternoon. Jared appears lost in his own thoughts, and Jensen desperately wants to intrude, but doesn’t quite know how. They tumble out of the car when they reach the hotel, Jared barely even acknowledging his friend the concierge, let alone providing his usual cheerful update on filming and the dogs’ behaviour that day. Jensen has come to realise that Jared makes friends with everyone and already, after only a couple of months, knows nearly every staff member working at his hotel; oddly enough, small dog-related disasters that would normally result in angry letters from hotel managers seem to disappear from Jared’s suite with no further action.
They make their way upstairs to Jared’s suite. It’s nowhere near big enough for one clumsy six foot four man, let alone two rambunctious dogs; and Jared is already talking about getting a proper house for next year if they get picked up for season two. But in the meantime, they are stuck in the suite, with it’s small, cramped sofa and the enormous dog beds taking up half the floor space.
Jared crumples onto the sofa immediately, dropping his head against the backrest. The dogs start circling restlessly, looking for the small treat Jared always gives them when they get home; Supernatural’s varied shooting schedule means they get fed on set but there’s a bag of treats in one of the high cupboards. Seeing that Jared isn’t making any move towards it, Jensen fishes two healthy dog bones out of the bag. The dogs go mad as soon as they see them, jumping up on Jensen and trying to climb him, and Jensen laughs, fending them off.
“You wanna give them their treats, Jay?”
“No, go for it.” Jared sounds weary, and Jensen frowns as he drops the bones onto the floor for the dogs. Happy snuffling sounds follow him across to the sofa, where he perches next to Jared.
“What’s up, Jay?” he asks quietly.
Jared visibly pulls himself together, drawing his body back from its loose sprawl and sitting up slightly.
“Nothing,” he replies. “Shall we play?”
“Sooner we start playing, sooner I can win,” Jensen answers easily. He fishes two beers out of the small fridge and puts the game into the console, handing Jared the other controller.
“Bring it, motherfucker,” Jared says, with a hint of his usual defiance, and the game is on.
***
An hour later and things are almost normal. They’re as competitive as ever, or at least it feels that way until Jensen wins and Jared doesn’t have his normal tantrum, doesn’t start trash-talking Jensen and plotting his revenge. Instead, he just flops backwards on the couch, dropping the controller, and Jensen can’t bear it any longer.
“What’s up, Jay?” he asks.
“Nothing,” is the short response he gets.
“Not true.” Jensen is nothing if not persistent, and he knows he won’t be able to leave this alone. Jared has come to mean more to him over these past two months than a lot of people he’s known for years, and it’s hurting him to watch his friend be unhappy. And that’s just the simple affection and friendship he feels for Jared, before he even attempts to analyse the more complex feelings lurking under the surface. Not to mention that Jared’s pretty face is meant for smiling; nothing feels better to Jensen than seeing those dimples and knowing he put them there.
“Come on Jay,” he coaxes. “Something’s wrong. Why don’t you tell me, maybe I can help?”
Jared sighs. “Its nothing,” he repeats.
“It’s not nothing, Jared, I can tell. Come on, tell me.”
“It’s really nothing. I’m just tired, and I hurt my shoulder a little yesterday, and I didn’t sleep well.” Jared keeps his eyes averted, voice quiet.
“You hurt your shoulder?” Jensen repeats, thinking of all the stunts and action sequences they’d done today. “Did you tell anyone?”
“No, it’s just a little thing. Aches a little.” Jared is definitely refusing to meet Jensen’s eyes now; he knows he should’ve gone straight to the set medic this morning and told them exactly what was wrong.
“How?”
“Playing with the dogs,” Jared is a little flushed now, too, embarassed at Jensen’s obvious concern.
“And it kept you from sleeping?”
“Couldn’t get comfy.” Jared shrugs at that and then winces. “Sorry. I know I’ve been grouchy.”
“Idiot.” Jensen mutters fondly. “Let me have a look.”
“What, you think you’re a doctor now?” Jared mocks, a little shaky but trying to continue their usual back and forth.
“I was going to do a physical therapy degree.”
“Yeah, going to. Not did,” Jared says, bratty.
“Let me see, Jay.” Jensen’s voice is firm, a tone he’s learned will sometimes make Jared obey promptly. Jared likes strong direction, he’s noticed, but he tries not to take advantage of it too often.
Jared pulls his t-shirt up awkwardly, wincing in pain, and Jensen hastens to help him pull it over his shoulder. He’s faced suddenly with the smooth expanse of Jared’s back, golden skin begging to be touched, but he resists. Mostly. He runs his fingers softly over the muscle on Jared’s shoulder and his friend shivers, skin breaking out in goosebumps.
“This shoulder?” Jensen asks, unnecessarily. His voice has dropped low, and suddenly the room is quiet, the weird tension that sometimes exists between them ratcheted up a notch.
“Yeah,” Jared’s quiet too.
“Ok.” Jensen starts to press a little more firmly into the muscle, prodding along and keeping a close eye on Jared’s reactions. Jared’s skin is so, so smooth and he’s having a hard time keeping himself focused.
Jared hisses suddenly, jerking away from Jensen’s hand. “There,” Jensen says unnecessarily, and Jared shoots him one of Sam’s bitch-faces. Not allowing himself to think, he tugs Jared’s t-shirt all the way off.
“Lie down,” he instructs. “Let me try something.” He pushes firmly at Jared’s good shoulder, trying to get him to lie on his front on the sofa, but Jared resists.
“What’re you going to do?” he asks.
“Massage your muscle a little, see if I can help it relax.”
“You’re not a masseuse, you don’t know what you’re doing,” Jared argues.
“I’ve always had very positive feedback on my massages, thank you,” Jensen says, grinning.
“From who?” Suspicion shines in Jared’s multi-coloured eyes and Jensen can’t help himself; he winks at his friend.
“Who do you think?”
Jared flushes bright pink, but stops arguing and allows Jensen to guide him down onto the couch.
Now that Jared has done what he’s told, Jensen has time to contemplate the potentially monumental mistake he’s just made. It’s like a dream come true, Jared laid out in front of him, tan skin warm and soft, legs spread and one knee dangling towards the floor. He’s going to have to work really hard to keep hold of his self-control.
He settles into the space between Jared’s legs and rubs his hands together to warm them up. Normally, he’d place his cold hands onto Jared’s overheated skin just to see him jump, but it seems unfair when it might actually cause him more pain. Finally, taking a deep breath, he lowers his palms to Jared’s back and starts to move them slowly across the muscles, working his way towards the painful one.
It takes a while for Jared to relax, and Jensen can’t really blame him; despite drunken vows of eternal friendship, this isn’t really within the realm of normal. But after a while, Jensen can feel Jared becoming pliant under him; breath slow and even and his hands unclenched. Taking that as his cue, Jensen moves his hands slowly towards the sore muscle, and starts to really work, trying to ease the pressure he can feel.
He massages there for while, Jared soft and compliant, and eventually he feels the muscle start to loosen. Knowing that his work is done, Jensen allows his mind to stray, imagining a world where this was his; where he could touch Jared like this and more every single day, without the excuse of an injury. He’s forced to admit that it’s something he desperately wants; there can be no more hiding, he thinks, under the illusion that he just finds Jared passingly hot; not when the fact that Jared was hurting was so painful to him.
As his mind wanders, his hands do too, slipping higher on Jared’s back and up to his neck. He’s only brought back to himself when he feels Jared tense again under his hand, a wounded noise slipping from his friend’s throat.
“Did that hurt?” he asks quickly.
“No,” Jared responds, low. “Felt good. Sorry.”
Jensen can’t help himself. He sweeps his thumbs over the back of Jared’s neck again, and this time the noise is louder, Jared letting out a little moan. “Here?”
“Yeah,” Jared replies, breathy.
Jensen does it again, and Jared’s whole back shivers.
“Want me to stop, Jay?” Jensen can barely bring himself to ask, but he knows he won’t be able to forgive himself if he doesn’t.
“No.”
That’s full permission, as far as Jensen is concerned, and he digs his fingers firmly into Jared’s neck, dragging them up until his hands are tangled in Jared’s hair. He wanted to do this almost since the moment they met, and it’s no disappointment; Jared’s hair is as soft and silky as it looks, and the noise Jared makes when Jensen tugs gently is addictive. He can’t help but continue, pressing one thumb into Jared’s neck, and allowing the other hand to scrape across his scalp, enjoying the feeling so much that it takes him a moment to realise that Jared’s hips are rocking back, seeking pressure.
Lightning shoots through Jensen at the realisation that Jared is really enjoying this. Not just finding it mildly pleasing, but possibly just as turned on as Jensen. He leans down, pressing his front against Jared’s back and whispers into Jared’s ear.
“Do you really like this, Jay?”
“Yes!” Jared’s voice is higher than usual, and he reaches back to grab at Jensen’s arm. “Don’t stop, Jen.”
Jensen can see Jared’s face a little better now, and he’s flushed, eyes glassy. Daringly, Jensen nips lightly at Jared’s ear, and Jared convulses, hips arching further back than ever. Jared’s other hand has found its way to Jensen’s thigh, and he’s digging his fingers in, bright spots of pain against the joy lighting up Jensen’s skin. Jensen presses little kisses along Jared’s jawline, desperate suddenly to get to his mouth. The angle is all wrong and Jensen is only able to kiss the corner and frustrated, he pulls back.
Before Jared really has a chance to move, Jensen hooks his arm under Jared’s waist and pulls him backwards so that Jared is kneeling, back to Jensen’s chest. The angle is only slightly better but it’s enough for Jensen to lean around and turn Jared’s face towards him, and finally their lips meet.
It’s a soft, sweet kiss at first, despite the awkwardness. Jared’s lips are just as soft as Jensen had imagined, on lonely nights in his own hotel room. They move together easily, and Jared winds his good arm behind Jensen’s neck, arching his back.
It doesn’t stay soft and sweet for long. Jared opens up under Jensen’s mouth and they’re soon nipping and biting at each other, tongues twisting deep as Jensen’s hands rove across Jared’s chest. Jared might be slim but he’s all muscle, and Jensen delights in running his fingers through the dips and troughs. Soon he realises that Jared is pulling frantically at Jensen’s t-shirt, and he pauses for just a second to pull it roughly over his head, until they are finally skin to skin. It feels so, so good. Jared is warm and smooth against him, all the strength in his body moving against Jensen.
Jensen suddenly doesn’t want to wait any longer. He’s been waiting for this for two months, the tension there between them since day one when Jared had blushed and stuttered through their first meeting. He pushes impatiently at Jared’s pants, fumbling the button open and pushing his briefs down, before pulling his cock out. Jared groans into his mouth, and Jensen pulls away for a moment to pant out, “This ok, Jay?”
“Fucking yes,” is Jared’s emphatic response. “Come on Jen.” Jared shifts against him, trying to get some friction, and Jensen starts to move his hand, slow and steady. He shifts back slightly for a moment so that he can get his other hand on his own flies and pull them down, and then his cock is pressing against the warm skin of Jared’s back, sliding easily in the sweat there.
He picks up the pace of his hand, paying close attention to what Jared likes, and the noises he makes; repeating the moves that get the best noises. Jared has his head tipped back on Jensen’s shoulder and he takes the opportunity to put some marks on Jared’s long, glistening throat.
It doesn’t take long for them to find a rhythm, Jared thrusting up into Jensen’s hand and then back against Jensen’s cock. Jensen’s heart is pounding and he wants this moment to spin out for ever, but he’s getting closer and closer.
“Not gonna last this time,”Jared pants against his shoulder, eyes still closed. “But next time will you fuck me?”
The visual is too much for Jensen, imagining Jared spread out before him, ass raised and waiting. He comes with a shout, shooting against Jared’s back as Jared speeds up his movements. “Jen, so fucking hot, Jen,” Jared gasps, before his cock twitches and come coats Jensen’s hand. Jared goes boneless against him, dead weight suddenly almost forcing Jensen back on the bed, and Jensen has to catch them both and lower them gently so that they’re lying on their sides. He pulls down his own pants and wriggles out of them, before doing the same to Jared, so that they’re both a little more comfortable.
It takes a while for his breathing to even out and his body to calm down, tiredness seeping through him. He’s still wrapped around Jared, arm across his chest and pressed to Jared’s heart, feeling the steady thump thump thump under his hand. He assumes Jared has fallen asleep, but then realises that his friend is still awake, holding himself still.
“Ok, Jay?” he asks softly.
“Mmmm,” Jared hums pleasantly. “Can we do that again?”
Jensen thinks that Jared wouldn’t be asking that, if he weren’t so out of it; but he’s glad to get the awkwardness out of the way.
“I definitely want to do that again,” he confirms.
“Brilliant.” Jared’s mouth curves in a little smile, eyelashes drifting against his cheek. “Imma expect a massage like that every time I have a bad day now,” he says.
Jensen snorts. “That’s absolutely fine by me. As long as it always ends like this.”
“Every time.” Jared confirms.
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Saturdays (pt 1)
Genre: Fluff/Smut (in pt 2)
Member: Jungkook
Warnings: None
Word Count: 4484
Summary: After three months of loneliness and insecurities while on tour, Jungkook comes home to you.
Part 2
This is just pure fluff tbh. But Part 2 will much more explicit (and will be posted within the next two or three days at most). Enjoy!
You weren’t sure exactly how long you’d been sitting on the window seat with your knees pulled into your chest, the cool wall leaching all the warmth from your spine through the thick material of your hoodie. All day you’d been lounging in the comfort of your apartment, basking in the calming serenity of the pouring rain pattering against the wide window. The view of the Seoul skyline piercing the gray swirling clouds above was beautiful in the most hazy and sleepy way, almost as if the entirety of South Korea had just woken up from a Saturday-afternoon nap and hadn’t yet wiped the sleep from its eyes.
Saturdays were one of your favorite days, mainly because you didn’t have to worry about your usual responsibilities of college and work. You preferred to spend most of your Saturdays at home to recharge before having to finish up any assignments you’d been procrastinating over on Sunday, and you often found yourself devoting Saturdays to pampering yourself. Eating whatever you wanted, messily slathering on a face mask, taking a long steaming bath to relax your tense muscles, the works. At that point in the day, you’d already cooked yourself chocolate chip pancakes (You woke up around 11:30am, but who’s to say pancakes have to be reserved solely for breakfast time?) while your favorite moisturizing mask was caked on your skin. You stuffed the fluffy, sweet deliciousness in your face ravenously as you binge-watched YouTube videos, the only worry you had being that you may not have enough syrup.
Now you sat, four hours later, curled up by the window, still sucked into the void that is YouTube and enjoying the melancholy rainfall that was baptizing the streets of Seoul.
As much as you loved Saturdays, you couldn’t help but feel sad that you’d spent so many without your boyfriend around to participate in the self-care. The two of you had made it a tradition to spend Saturdays together and bond over cartoons and unhealthy snacks. Even though he basically lived with you when he wasn’t forced to stay at the dorms or travel for a tour, Jungkook was insistent on coming over and talking about each of your weeks through mouthfuls of pizza.
You heaved a sigh at the slight sinking feeling in your chest at remembering the last Saturday Jungkook had been home. The two of you had both gotten a little too tipsy (aka: you were both piss drunk) on cheap wine and ended up singing at the top of your lungs and clumsily dancing around the apartment to the Friends opening credits, the obnoxiously loud volume of the TV and your booming laughter causing your neighbor to complain the next morning. You were both ridiculously hungover the next day, and poor Kookie had a six hour dance practice starting at one in the afternoon. The stubborn motherfucker insisted that he was fine, dammit, and he would just go to practice and suffer through “like a man”. The memory of Namjoon calling you to tell you that Jungkook had puked all over the practice room floor in the middle of rehearsal brought a small smile to your face. God, he’s such an idiot.
You groaned as you raised your arms above your head in a stretch, all the joints in your body seeming to snap at once. At least he’s coming home today.
You unlocked your phone and reread the last messages you’d gotten from him.
[Jungkook] 6:03am: I’m getting on the plane. I’ll be home with you soon. I love you
[You] 11:32am: Be safe! I love you too
[Jungkook] 11:41am: Well good morning
[Jungkook] 11:42am: I guess I’m glad nothing bad happened to me. You would’ve just slept right on through it.
[You] 11:42am: To be honest, I’m a bit disappointed. I was expecting you and Taehyung to find a way to crash the plane by now.
[Jungkook] 11:45am: Lmao sorry to disappoint but Tae is sitting with Jimin instead this time
[You] 11:45am: Did you make a scene
[You] 11:46am: Did you #expose them for the cheating boyfriends that they are
[You] 11:46am: Did #Nochu come thru
[Jungkook] 11:48am: Of course. My emotional speech about their betrayals made the stewardess and several passengers cry.
[You] 11:51am: Where is this man’s Oscar
You didn’t hear from him again until an hour ago, and you could practically feel his excitement buzzing through the phone grasped in your hands.
[Jungkook] 3:30pm: We’re about to land!
[Jungkook] 4:17pm: We’re waiting for our luggage!!
[Jungkook] 4:39pm: Jimin’s bag is lost
[Jungkook] 4:56pm: God this is taking forever
[Jungkook] 4:59pm: I just asked if we could leave Jimin behind but they said no
[Jungkook] 5:11pm: We’re leaving the airport!!!!!!!!!!!! I’ll be home soon!!!!!!!
The last message made you smile so big it made your cheeks hurt. He was so excited to be coming home--and you were so excited for him to rest, if even for a short while. You knew that he was so much more exhausted than he would ever admit. Jungkook loved his job more than anything, but he was still human. Well, you debated that fact on occasion. The boy had a tendency to go and go and go until he was half dead, but even then, the average person would have already been put in a padded room from the amount of stress he faced on the daily.
The past three months had been rough without him--it only being the second time Jungkook had ever had to leave you on tour with Bangtan--but aside from feeling lonely at night after having a particularly rough day, you were handling yourself amazingly well and even gave your boyfriend the space that you felt that he wanted during the stress of touring. Jungkook, on the other hand…
It wasn’t that he wasn’t handling it well. It was more like he just missed you so damn much that he didn’t know what to do with himself. While the touring process was new to you, you had easily adapted because that was just what had to be done and it was all you'd ever known. The first time that Jungkook had to leave for a tour, you had merely been on a few extremely casual dates, so there were really no huge emotional investments on either side yet. You’d formed a closer bond over time by sending texts and links to ridiculous YouTube videos back and forth--Jungkook’s sense of humor more often than not making you snort out loud in the middle of your lectures, the sudden outbursts forcing you to cover it up by pretending to go into a coughing fit. After the first tour, loving Jungkook through a pixelated screen had just become half of your relationship, and you'd both accepted that. But that didn't mean it was easy.
You knew Jungkook wasn’t used to having someone to miss while he was away aside from his family, and the unfamiliar emptiness in his arms where you would normally be made him feel exposed and vulnerable--like he was going into battle without his most important and protective armor. The insecurities plagued him, a swirling mass of what ifs echoing against the interior of his skull. There were many nights where you would be roughly yanked out of sleep, your ringtone blaring so loud that you would scramble to find your phone amidst the tangle of sheets and the throw of darkness--your heart beating so hard in your chest that it felt like it was going to burst through your ribs and flop into bed beside you, only to find that it was merely Jungkook needing to hear your voice.
The last night that he had called in such a state was a week ago, the conversation still fresh on your mind as you waited for him to come home from the airport, your eyes trailing after a couple of silvery raindrops that rolled down the windowpanes in front of you.
“Hello?” That night you answered on the sixth ring with a tongue thick with sleep and eyes still unable to fully open.
“Baby?” Jungkook’s voice was almost always strained when he called you like this, as if he was trying his hardest to keep from showing just how vulnerable and needy he was--although you always knew. That time in particular, the pet name tumbled past his lips in a hurried rush.
“Hey, Jungkookie,” you smiled as you rubbed your eyes. He hesitated, the four seconds worth of grainy silence confirming your suspicions of him calling out of feeling alone in a crowd of six. “Bad day?”
He sighed lowly, and you could practically see him raising his thumb to his lips to nervously gnaw on the ragged cuticle. You could just faintly make out the sound of a rustling somewhere on the other end of the line, and you knew he was bouncing his leg, the nervous energy desperately trying to escape.
“Sort of...” he trailed off, not wanting to voice his actual feelings, god forbid, but you always patiently waited in silence until he felt ready to talk. “I really miss you.”
“I miss you too, more than you know,” even with thousands of miles between the two of you, the sounds of the wheels turning in his head were nearly audible as he tried to think of how to word his burdens.
“Talk to me, boy…” You sang the phrase to the tune of Rock Your Body by Justin Timberlake as out of tune and off pitch as you could, your voice that was still gravelly with sleep only adding to the effect. Anything to make Jungkook smile.
You often used this trick to get him to spill whatever was bothering him, and more often than not, it would illicit an airy chuckle to escape from him and begin to thaw the anxiety that had begun icing over his stomach. But that time all you got was a weak puff of air, a sorry excuse for a laugh.
He must really be upset, you thought.
After a moment, he spoke.
“You don’t….regret being with me, do you?” his voice was quiet, and even through the phone you could see his eyes timidly glued to his lap as he picked at the frayed holes in his jeans. “I mean...do you resent that I have to leave you for so long? Do you wish that you were with someone...normal?”
You blinked in confusion.
“What?” your voice hitched up in surprise.
“Never mind. Forget I called,” he babbled, “I shouldn’t have woken you up. I mean, it’s what? Almost four in--”
“Jeon Jungkook, hush,” you firmly interrupted, causing nervous rambling to die in his throat. “Why would you ask me that?”
He paused.
“Um…” the humiliated blush that was burning his cheeks was nearly audible.
“I….” he began, but the words dissolved on his tongue like a bitter cotton candy. He let out a huff of frustration.
“I’m scared,” a tone of hopelessness tinged with shame dripped from his lilting voice. “I love you so much, and I’m scared that you’re going to realize that this? What we have? Isn’t what you deserve.”
Your brow furrowed as you processed his words. How could he be so dumb sometimes? Couldn’t he tell that you were madly in love with him? That he was your best friend, and you could never give him up for anything? You been together for almost a year, shouldn’t he know that by now?
“Jungkook--”
“I’m the man, I‘m supposed to be reassuring you! And instead I’m the one calling you all the time because I miss you so much that I can’t focus on anything. You don’t ever call me like this. I’m the one calling you in the middle of the night because I’m feeling real anxiety for the first time in my life over the thought of losing you. And I’m a fucking singer!” his voice was growing louder as he let his stress out into the light, and his bouncy Busan accent peaked through the more worked up he got.
“I get followed by crazy fans and have hate thrown at me every day, and yet the only thing that really cuts me deep is the thought of not getting to hear you do Justin Timberlake an injustice over the phone anymore.”
The sentiment was meant to be joking, because he didn’t like talking about his feelings nine times out of ten--it made him feel guilty for not being content with his job and his life all the time. He didn’t want to seem ungrateful.
He paused for a moment to catch his breath, and that was when you jumped in.
“Jungkook,” you softly said, “you do call me when you’re upset. I can always tell the difference between a call like one of these and a normal phone call to check in. But have you failed to notice that I always answer these urgent phone calls?”
He didn’t answer, so you continued.
“I’m scared, too. I’m terrified you’re going to find a much hotter, more talented, idol girlfriend to love. But the reason I don’t call you like this very often is because for one thing, I hardly ever know where the hell you are. For all I know, you’re back in Seoul chilling in the dorms right now,” Jungkook let out a single grunt of a chuckle.
“And I also don’t call you freaking out because right around the time when I start to feel lonely or sad, you end up calling me. I may not know where you are in the world, but you’ll always know where I am. I’m not going anywhere.”
There were a few beats of warm silence as your reassuring words released the tension in Jungkook’s shoulders and loosened the uneasy knot pulled lethally tight in his chest.
“So you don’t want someone normal?” the smile in his voice was evident, but you could still make out a hint of uncertainty in his tone.
“Kookie, if I wanted someone normal, I wouldn’t have chosen you to begin with, you dumbass,” a grin broke out across your face as the sound of Jungkook’s musical laughter floated back to your ears. The mental image of him throwing his head back with his eyes scrunched tight with a genuine smile made you swoon.
“Promise?” he giggled.
“I promise, okay? You being famous isn’t what makes you abnormal to me. It’s your inherent dorkiness and embarrassing outbursts,” you teased.
“Don’t act like you don’t contribute,” he sassed.
“You love it.”
“I really, really do.”
At the end of the phone call, you could tell he felt better. It was like his burden dissipating also lifted one from your own shoulders, as if you had cleared up an insecurity you didn’t even know you had.
Before you, Jungkook had never loved someone at all, period, and now that he was madly in love with you, he felt as if he wasn’t doing enough. He hated not being able to take you on dates, real dates, where you could both go out without worrying if he would be followed by fans or paparazzi. He hated that he couldn't hold you every night and feel your icy toes shove themselves under his thighs, the biting cold nearly making him jump out of his skin every time. He hated never getting to post the cute pictures that he would take of you while you slept, or the horrendous selfies you would send him as you sat in class while he was at rehearsal. He wanted to shout how much he loved you from the rooftops, loud enough for all of both North and South Korea to hear. But the job that he loved so much prevented that.
He hated those things, but god, did he love you.
The thought that after all that time, you would finally be able to see him, and hold him, and do all the things you were able to do with him three months prior made you feel as if your body weighed twenty pounds lighter. Loneliness was a much heavier burden than you realized.
The sound of keys jingling and sliding into the lock made your head automatically whip towards the long awaited noise. For whatever reason, be it the suddenness of the noise while you were so deep in thought or the fact that your Jungkook was finally home, your heart fluttered inside your chest. On instinct, you rose to your feet and stood with your eyes glued to the entrance to your apartment. He’s home.
When the door finally swung open after what felt like an eternity of him fumbling with the knob that always seemed to stick, Jeon Jungkook stood before you for the first time in three months.
His hair was a dishevelled mess, the caramel blond and faded pink stripes sticking up in every which way in wispy tendrils around his brow that had collected the brunt of the rain on the way to your apartment. If you hadn’t been so stunned, you would have laughed at the very obvious line where his hat had protected the crown of his head from getting wet, leaving the top of his hair to be dry and fluffy--a stark contrast to the ends of his locks that were dripping wet and darkened with the freezing rain. Jungkook’s soaked beanie was clutched so tightly in his fist that his knuckles were white and little streams of water were dripping down his fingers and onto the floor from the fabric being wrung so extremely. His black hoodie was bunched up over one of his hips, as if he hadn’t bothered to pull it down or fix it in it any way when he stepped off the subway. The fabric was significantly darker over the broad expanse of his shoulders and chest where the rain had initially struck him, making it hopelessly cling to his leanly muscled frame.
Your heart skipped a beat as your eyes raked over his body and landed on his face. Without a stitch of makeup on his skin to hinder your view, you were able to see every little detail on him--even from across the room. The wind must have been much chillier than you thought, because his nose and cheeks were bright pink from the abuse of the nipping temperatures. All of his freckles and dark circles and scars were right in front of you, and they were so goddamn gorgeous that it made a lump form in your throat. He was so real. So real and so solid and so very, very beautiful. It was as if his image was enhanced and hyper-focused after being without him for so long.
The expression of disbelief written on your face must have been amusing, because Jungkook’s red, chill-swollen lips quirked themselves into a bright grin.
“I’m home,” he softly said, his smile growing even wider--the rise of his cheeks making his sparkling eyes disappear into slits that sat on the top of his cheekbones and nearly all thirty-two of his teeth flash in your direction.
The broken silence snapped you out of your trance, and you quickly found yourself shuffling across the room towards your boyfriend while muttering an ecstatic mantra of “You’re home, you’re home, you’re home, you’re home!” with a beaming smile on your face. He met you halfway, his long strides carrying him to you in a matter of three steps. You threw your arms around his neck and nestled your frame into his torso. Muscled arms wound themselves around your waist--one firmly snaking around the circumference of your lower back and the other trailing up your spine to gently grip at the curve of your shoulder--as he mumbled an incoherent string of words declaring just how much he missed you, his voice sounding an awful lot like he was trying not to cry.
“I missed you too,” your fingers wound themselves into his hair as you felt a sting behind your eyes. “I missed you so incredibly much, Jungkook.”
A startled gasp flew past your lips when the tip of Jungkook’s frigidly cold nose nuzzled itself into the warmth of your neck.
“Jesus,” you attempted to squirm away from the way from the way he was using you to thaw himself, but he simply pulled you tighter into his body.
“You’re freezing! Why didn’t you wear a coat, Jungkook? You’re going to get sick, you idiot!” you half laughed and half scolded, the smile on your face causing a single happy tear to squeeze from your eye.
His cheeks rose devilishly in the crook of your neck. He’d missed your playful insults so much.
“I was so excited to see you that I forgot to grab one from the dorm when I dropped off my suitcase,” his words were muffled by the fabric of your sweatshirt.
His dripping wet clothes were beginning to soak into your own and make you shiver. You placed your palms on both of his cheeks and pulled him back to get a better look at him up close--and partially to get his icicle of a nose the hell away from your flesh. Your eyes locked with his, the nearly-black irises seeming to place gentle kisses on every inch of your face as he surveyed your features. His mouth dropped open in a look of false and exaggerated surprise, his doe eyes twinkling like a thousand galaxies.
“Are you crying, (Y/N)?” he chided.
You let out a laugh poked his cheek.
“Are you? You’re looking a bit waterlogged.”
“What?” his brows raised, feigning innocence.
“This?” he gestured to his soaked lashes. “No, no. It’s not crying if the tears never fall, baby.”
You giggled and pulled his face closer to yours, the scent of his favorite cologne washing over you in the close proximity. Your lips brushed against his in a teasing kiss, the feeling of his chilled lips lightly grazing yours sending chills down your spine.
“God, you’re so warm,” he whispered, awestruck, his breath fanning over your face.
Jungkook’s hand ran itself painstakingly slow up your arm and the side of your neck, his icy fingertips trailing against your skin so lightly that goosebumps erupted across the expanse of your exposed flesh. Long fingers knotted themselves in the hair at the back of your neck to pull you into a deeper kiss, and the way his fingernails lightly grazed your scalp had your breath catching in your throat. The kiss was slow and languid, everything seeming to be moving at half its normal speed. With each move he made, icy droplets would drip from the ends of Jungkook’s hair and splatter faintly on your skin. Every brush of his lips and unhurried swipe of his tongue against yours was purposeful. Each shaky breath and quiet sigh was a message, a secret code that you’d cracked months and months before--every tender nibble on your lower lip and stroke of his swollen lips against your jaw a declaration of how much he loved you, punctuated with gentle swipes of his thumb against your cheekbone.
The way Jungkook was not only suddenly present in your life again, but also painting your lips with his most intimate and passionate kisses was making you weak in the knees. After all the months of being apart, you finally had him back in your arms. The crushing feeling of love for him was so overwhelming that your head started to spin. You brought your hand up to rest against his cheek and pulled away from the kiss ever so slightly--just enough to speak.
“I missed you,” you rested your forehead against his and looked into his eyes, your mouth beginning to water at the sight of his flushed cheeks and blown out pupils.
“I missed you so much. God, every single day it was like I was walking around in a daze,” you gave him a lingering peck before continuing. “I love you so much, Jungkook. I don’t think you realize how much.”
You began peppering kisses along his jaw, gentle at first--pulling a satisfied hum from him that quickly turned into a low moan when you switched to leaving burning open mouthed kisses that seared the still freezing skin on his neck. The contrast of your warm mouth and his cold skin was so drastic that it felt almost painful, his nerve endings having long forgotten what warmth was in the mile long walk from the subway to your apartment.
You pulled back to make eye contact with him and make sure that he was listening to what you were saying. He stared back at you with hooded eyes, doing his best to actually process your words.
“I’m sorry if I seemed distant while you were away. I just figured you would want some space to focus on work,” you brought your lips back to his, kissing the top and then the bottom before slowly tracing his lower lip with your tongue. His hands gripped your hips in an attempt to keep from losing focus on your loving words.
“I let the space change from an inch to a mile, and you felt insecure in our relationship because of that. Am I correct?”
Jungkook’s golden cheeks flushed a deep russet, his eyes leaving yours to wander aimlessly before dropping to the floor. He nodded, embarrassment evident on his face. He hated admitting when he was struggling. He wasn’t supposed to struggle, he was the golden maknae.
You smiled fondly at him before intertwining your fingers with his and raising the tangle of warm and cold digits to brush your lips across his knuckles.
“Let me make it up to you,” you slyly said.
Jungkook’s eyes snapped up to meet yours, a knowing smirk tugging on the corner of his lips.
“Whatever do you have in mind, m’lady?” he suggestively raised his eyebrows and wrapped his arms around your waist.
You shivered at the chill that your now soaked clothes brought.
“Well, you feel like you’ve been inside a deep freeze for four days. Let’s warm you up.”
Jungkook’s eyes gleamed.
“You don’t mean…?” he began, a wide smile spreading across his face.
You nodded.
“Yes. I ordered more bath bombs and saved them all so we could use them together.”
Jungkook wiggled in excitement, doing a quick dance of waggling fingers and spastically tapping his toes.
“You’re the beeeeest,” he cheered as he heaved you over his shoulder--causing a surprised shriek to rip from your throat--and pranced off towards the master bedroom.
You couldn't contain your giddiness as your laughter rang out across your apartment. Jungkook was finally home, and your Saturday was finally as warm and relaxing as they used to be before he left.
#bts#bts writing#bts fluff#jungkook fluff#jungkook smut#jungkook fic#jungkook one shot#jungkook imagine#jungkook scenario#jeon jungkook#jungkook bts#jungkook au#bts scenarios#bts one shot#bts drabble#jungkook drabble#my writing
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American Shithole #15 — Comedians Unite! Except You, Dennis
Who are the adults again? Not me, as this column joyfully illustrates. Good day to you, American Shithole readers!
This week’s embarrassing queue of hack journalists getting everything wrong about Michelle Wolf’s brilliant, blistering performance at the White House Correspondents’ Dinner is on par with the media’s lack of overall self-awareness, and reticence to accept accountability for the success of the Trump campaign.
That daily, non-stop barrage of coverage, as much as Russians, billionaires, and republicans, led us to this tediously infantile behavior we have been subjected to for seventeen months — and the only adults I see lately doing fuck-all about it, are the kids making mincemeat out of various mouthpieces for the NRA.
Everyone in politics and journalism at this point that isn’t screaming “LIARS!” every single day at the top of their lungs is suspect. Sarah Huckabee Sanders literally lies all day long, and the panderers in the White House press corps politely ask her questions each week, as if the lies are going to somehow suddenly cease — and then — while drawing the same breath, these same journalists misrepresent the words and intent of a comedian that brought truth to power?
Michelle Wolf dropped truth down on that house of cowards and charlatans like a motherfucking ANVIL.
All while Trump disparaged the “tough to watch” Paralympics, describing the event from his safe-space bully pulpit in Michigan — too cowardly to show his face at the WHCD again this year — as limited crowds again chanted “lock her up” for an old grandma he ran against two years ago, and “Nobel, Nobel” because he somehow single-handedly united Korea.
Late Sunday evening, White House Correspondents’ Association President Margaret Talev issued a statement apologizing for comedian Michelle Wolf’s performance.
Oh, fuck you, Margaret. You fucking coward!
Media, you whore! Journalists covering this president are such fucking hypocritical jackasses. The stink of this man — the stink you still joyfully roll around in like pigs in shit — in the end, you do understand he will be your undoing? He is everyone’s undoing that gets too close to him. Faith in the institution of journalism has already been gutted, and you clueless, tone-deaf, humorless boors shat upon the 1st amendment at your own event, again?
Shame. Where’s the Game of Thrones meme when I need it? SHAME!
Also, Michelle Wolf didn’t attack anyone’s looks. The way some of the prominent journalists in our country fell all over themselves to defend Sarah fucking Huckabee Sanders’ honor, just rankles my cankles.
Michelle did her fucking job. She kicked all the chairs out from underneath you, you sleepy-eyed, coddled, shitgibbon enablers — and apparently you couldn’t tell ruthless political commentary from a fugly joke, if your journalistic integrity depended on it.
Which, it did.
Well, in the interest of truth and social responsibility, I would like to provide a few examples of what jokes attacking Sarah Sanders’ appearance could look like, if you encounter them out in the wild — this is not an effort to disparage, only to educate — where hopefully American journalists will be better equipped to tell the difference between cutting-edge political satire, and a fat joke.
Remember, these are just examples of what insensitive jokes might look like; they are not truly meant as disparaging remarks on Sanders’ physical appearance.
1. Is that Sarah Huckabee Sanders, or did a bridge troll fuck Estée Lauder?
2. What do Sarah Huckabee Sanders and circus elephants have in common? Both look like they’ve just come from trampling their makeup artists to death.
3. Are you sure that’s Sarah Huckabee Sanders? I thought that was a Sumo wrestler exploring western cosplay.
There you go, faux journalists, now you know the difference!
Thankfully, there were many in the media with their integrity still intact that rushed to Wolf’s defense, along with every comedian in the country — save Dennis Miller.
Oh, Dennis.
Dennis, Dennis, Dennis. Get some salve for that rash of Twitter burn you are experiencing. How could you not expect an avalanche of shit for saying you needed three days to write some mean jokes about Michelle? It thrills me so, that you have been irrelevant for so long, two generations of Americans have absolutely no idea who you are. Now that is fucking funny.
Like countless politicians to date, many journalists and media entities enjoying the ratings boom over the last two years, will find that when this is over — when the adults have come to their senses, and the unruly baby boomers have all been put out to pasture — that their careers are forever tarnished, if not outright ruined by their association with this administration.
But right, it’s the funny, red-headed, spitfire comedienne that needs to apologize…
I believe most of us understand now, that this isn’t a news cycle, this is a news cyclone. Every week I take a snapshot of one, possibly two events, or one person, and the rest is just ripped into the sky, never to be heard from again.
It makes the choice of topic plentiful, I suppose, but it’s also a bit like being a bear in the middle of a salmon run.
Although this week the moon could have been on fire and I still would have written about Michelle. Is that a comedian under attack? Here, let me lower the bar.
In other breaking news, it seems the Trump lawyers themselves leaked the 49 questions the Mueller team provided — in a relatively transparent effort to try this “case” in the court of public opinion.
What you don’t know, is that those 49 questions used to be 54.
That’s right; our crack team of investigative journalists here at American Shithole uncovered five additional Mueller team questions for Trump — deemed too insensitive — that ultimately didn’t make the cut. At great legal risk to ourselves, we present them for you here:
1. Mr. President, are there some paintings you worked on as a frustrated young artist we could compliment, retroactively?
2. Treasonous-president-says-what? Gotcha!
3. Mr. President, before you answer any further questions, have you considered how terrible you’re going to look in orange?
4. Mr. President, when Vladimir Putin first informed you that he had the pee-pee tape, did you…
a. Piss yourself.
b. Shit and piss yourself.
c. Call Cohen, your idiot lawyer, then shit and piss yourself.
d. Immediately sell out your own country.
5. When you immediately sold out your own country, did you even consider for even a fraction of a fucking second, you selfish, stupid, arrogant asshole, the suffering you would cause for every American and the damage you would do to the institutions of justice and the fabric of our democracy?
I’d like an answer to that last one — preferably via tweet from atop his stainless steel shitter in prison.
Some days I wake up and I don’t believe this is still happening. This administration is cause for enough embarrassment, and legitimate fear, that I don’t know if we will ever be able to hold our heads up again — at least in my lifetime.
I’m so ashamed to be an American — but there is a crest and swell on the horizon. I can see the wave gathering energy, still far out at sea; unstoppable forces of nature will come crashing down on our shores, come November.
B.S. Report
Congratulations are in order to Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School students, Cameron Kasky and Samantha Fuentes, as well as Zion Kelly, of Washington, who will be honored by PEN, a literary and human rights organization. On May 22, in New York City, the three students will be presented the PEN/Toni and James C. Goodale Freedom of Expression Courage Award. Congratulations!
Stay strong, Dad.
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American Shithole #15 — Comedians Unite! Except You, Dennis
Who are the adults again? Not me, as this column joyfully illustrates. Good day to you, American Shithole readers!
This week’s embarrassing queue of hack journalists getting everything wrong about Michelle Wolf’s brilliant, blistering performance at the White House Correspondents’ Dinner is on par with the media’s lack of overall self-awareness, and reticence to accept accountability for the success of the Trump campaign.
That daily, non-stop barrage of coverage, as much as Russians, billionaires, and republicans, led us to this tediously infantile behavior we have been subjected to for seventeen months — and the only adults I see lately doing fuck-all about it, are the kids making mincemeat out of various mouthpieces for the NRA.
Everyone in politics and journalism at this point that isn’t screaming “LIARS!” every single day at the top of their lungs is suspect. Sarah Huckabee Sanders literally lies all day long, and the panderers in the White House press corps politely ask her questions each week, as if the lies are going to somehow suddenly cease — and then — while drawing the same breath, these same journalists misrepresent the words and intent of a comedian that brought truth to power?
Michelle Wolf dropped truth down on that house of cowards and charlatans like a motherfucking ANVIL.
All while Trump disparaged the “tough to watch” Paralympics, describing the event from his safe-space bully pulpit in Michigan — too cowardly to show his face at the WHCD again this year — as limited crowds again chanted “lock her up” for an old grandma he ran against two years ago, and “Nobel, Nobel” because he somehow single-handedly united Korea.
Late Sunday evening, White House Correspondents’ Association President Margaret Talev issued a statement apologizing for comedian Michelle Wolf’s performance.
Oh, fuck you, Margaret. You fucking coward!
Media, you whore! Journalists covering this president are such fucking hypocritical jackasses. The stink of this man — the stink you still joyfully roll around in like pigs in shit — in the end, you do understand he will be your undoing? He is everyone’s undoing that gets too close to him. Faith in the institution of journalism has already been gutted, and you clueless, tone-deaf, humorless boors shat upon the 1st amendment at your own event, again?
Shame. Where’s the Game of Thrones meme when I need it? SHAME!
Also, Michelle Wolf didn’t attack anyone’s looks. The way some of the prominent journalists in our country fell all over themselves to defend Sarah fucking Huckabee Sanders’ honor, just rankles my cankles.
Michelle did her fucking job. She kicked all the chairs out from underneath you, you sleepy-eyed, coddled, shitgibbon enablers — and apparently you couldn’t tell ruthless political commentary from a fugly joke, if your journalistic integrity depended on it.
Which, it did.
Well, in the interest of truth and social responsibility, I would like to provide a few examples of what jokes attacking Sarah Sanders’ appearance could look like, if you encounter them out in the wild — this is not an effort to disparage, only to educate — where hopefully American journalists will be better equipped to tell the difference between cutting-edge political satire, and a fat joke.
Remember, these are just examples of what insensitive jokes might look like; they are not truly meant as disparaging remarks on Sanders’ physical appearance.
1. Is that Sarah Huckabee Sanders, or did a bridge troll fuck Estée Lauder?
2. What do Sarah Huckabee Sanders and circus elephants have in common? Both look like they’ve just come from trampling their makeup artists to death.
3. Are you sure that’s Sarah Huckabee Sanders? I thought that was a Sumo wrestler exploring western cosplay.
There you go, faux journalists, now you know the difference!
Thankfully, there were many in the media with their integrity still intact that rushed to Wolf’s defense, along with every comedian in the country — save Dennis Miller.
Oh, Dennis.
Dennis, Dennis, Dennis. Get some salve for that rash of Twitter burn you are experiencing. How could you not expect an avalanche of shit for saying you needed three days to write some mean jokes about Michelle? It thrills me so, that you have been irrelevant for so long, two generations of Americans have absolutely no idea who you are. Now that is fucking funny.
Like countless politicians to date, many journalists and media entities enjoying the ratings boom over the last two years, will find that when this is over — when the adults have come to their senses, and the unruly baby boomers have all been put out to pasture — that their careers are forever tarnished, if not outright ruined by their association with this administration.
But right, it’s the funny, red-headed, spitfire comedienne that needs to apologize…
I believe most of us understand now, that this isn’t a news cycle, this is a news cyclone. Every week I take a snapshot of one, possibly two events, or one person, and the rest is just ripped into the sky, never to be heard from again.
It makes the choice of topic plentiful, I suppose, but it’s also a bit like being a bear in the middle of a salmon run.
Although this week the moon could have been on fire and I still would have written about Michelle. Is that a comedian under attack? Here, let me lower the bar.
In other breaking news, it seems the Trump lawyers themselves leaked the 49 questions the Mueller team provided — in a relatively transparent effort to try this “case” in the court of public opinion.
What you don’t know, is that those 49 questions used to be 54.
That’s right; our crack team of investigative journalists here at American Shithole uncovered five additional Mueller team questions for Trump — deemed too insensitive — that ultimately didn’t make the cut. At great legal risk to ourselves, we present them for you here:
1. Mr. President, are there some paintings you worked on as a frustrated young artist we could compliment, retroactively?
2. Treasonous-president-says-what? Gotcha!
3. Mr. President, before you answer any further questions, have you considered how terrible you’re going to look in orange?
4. Mr. President, when Vladimir Putin first informed you that he had the pee-pee tape, did you…
a. Piss yourself.
b. Shit and piss yourself.
c. Call Cohen, your idiot lawyer, then shit and piss yourself.
d. Immediately sell out your own country.
5. When you immediately sold out your own country, did you even consider for even a fraction of a fucking second, you selfish, stupid, arrogant asshole, the suffering you would cause for every American and the damage you would do to the institutions of justice and the fabric of our democracy?
I’d like an answer to that last one — preferably via tweet from atop his stainless steel shitter in prison.
Some days I wake up and I don’t believe this is still happening. This administration is cause for enough embarrassment, and legitimate fear, that I don’t know if we will ever be able to hold our heads up again — at least in my lifetime.
I’m so ashamed to be an American — but there is a crest and swell on the horizon. I can see the wave gathering energy, still far out at sea; unstoppable forces of nature will come crashing down on our shores, come November.
B.S. Report
Congratulations are in order to Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School students, Cameron Kasky and Samantha Fuentes, as well as Zion Kelly, of Washington, who will be honored by PEN, a literary and human rights organization. On May 22, in New York City, the three students will be presented the PEN/Toni and James C. Goodale Freedom of Expression Courage Award. Congratulations!
Stay strong, Dad.
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Text
Suzanne aka Lola “The Session”
By: Shawnice Renee
Dr. Lee sat at his desk skimming through his files for his next patient that’s coming in. he had a disturbed look on his face, not due to the files but towards something different. So lost in deep thought when the telephone rung he jumped a little and knocked over his coffee.
“Shit! Got dammit!” Dr. Lee was now caught in-between cleaning up spilled coffee and answering his telephone. After a few rings he finally picks up the phone.
“Dr. Lee’s office, Dr. Lee speaking.”
“Terry?” On the phone it sounded like a loud irritated voice. Dr. Lee immediately threw his head back in annoyance.
“Sina, and what reason do am I receiving a call from you today?” Dr. Lee asked with lack of enthusiasm.
“Why didn’t you tell the judge about your secret account?” Sina asked.
Dr. Lee and Sina have been going through a bitter divorce. After 10 years of being married. Sina decided she wanted her life back. She complained how all she do is sit home cook, clean, and chase after their daughter. She also complained how the sex wasn’t good anymore and he works too much. Dr. Lee chalks it up to her asking for a life she truly didn’t want. So now they’re going through this divorce battle and she’s money hungry, throwing accusations of a secret account.
He didn’t have the patience to deal with his future ex-wife shenanigans.
“Sina what the hell are you talking about? There is no secret account for the last time!”
“Yes, you have one ad I’m going to find out. Best believe Terry I’m going for every penny I can get.” She snapped back.
“Why do you have to have to be like this? We did at one point love each other, when did this become about money?”
Dr. Lee was not only stressed out but in disbelief that the woman he once thought he would spend the rest of his life with, has now become an enemy. Sina carried on the phone trying to get Dr. Lee to fess up. When Suzanne walked in saving him from furthering the bad argument that was occurring. Right then he found a valid reason to hang up on his future ex-wife. Fighting to get a word out his voice grew louder.
“Look Sina- would you just let me-…listen I have a client we’ll finish this with the lawyers present next time!” Click.
Suzanne could see she had just walked into something real personal. She slowly walked to sit down on the couch as she patiently waited for him to acknowledge her. Dr. Lee fixed his tie and cleared his thoughts, he felt he needed a moment before he started his next session. Then finally a flustered Dr. Lee spoke. “Hey Suzanne, I apologize for what you just witnessed.” He said as he grabbed a pen and pad. Being completely understanding, Suzanne shrugged it off like it was nothing.
“Dr. Lee we all have our fucked-up problems.” she responded back
“Ok then! Let’s get started, shall we? Where did we last leave off?” Dr. Lee immediately flew back into his zone.
“We left off with my shitty ass father.”
“Oh, right your father… can you remember the last time you spoke to him?
Suzanne rolled her eyes and put her back. It’s been some time since she spoke with her father and with her that time hasn’t been missed.
“It’s been a while…” Suzanne responded. She never had much to say when it came to her father. Dr. Lee wasn’t already in a good mood. He was hoping that maybe she might want to cooperate with him today. But he knew this was a touchy subject and it would be quite a task.
He then proceeded, “You guys are estranged from one another. Did ya’ll have a close relationship?”
“No, he spent most of my life in jail and then when he was released he chose to be around his other kids.”
“He has other kids?”
“Yes, I have one brother and three sisters.,”
Dr. Lee began writing stuff down in his pad the more Suzanne talked. He started to ask more questions. “And do you feel hurt? About your father’s rejection?”
Then Suzanne answered with a stone-cold look on her face, “No.’
Dr. Lee was writing in his pad when he stopped to look at Suzanne. He grew a curious look his face as his eyes tipped over his glasses. “Why?” he asked.
Then Suzanne answered, “My father has been missing most of my life. There isn’t necessarily a…it just isn’t a need for me to be upset. Look I’m paying $200 per session, I really don’t want to spend it discussing him.”
“Well I’m going to be honest and let you know he would’ve been brought up eventually.” He reminded her.
Dr. Lee and Suzanne have been doing well in their sessions together. They both felt Suzanne was coming a long way with opening up. Unfortunately, discussing her father is something totally different for her.
“I know I just don’t like talking about him. It’s just a waste of words and breath.” Suzanne paused as Dr. Lee stared at her. Her father wasn’t the most supportive, loving father. She resented him for a lot of things she felt she finally came to peace with. Bringing this all up again will warrant unwanted emotions she isn’t willing to deal with again. But something just sparked her to speak.
“My dad is a very selfish man… We never had a relationship when I was a child. As I grew older though, we tried.”
“Do you care to share a story that backs up your claims? Only if you feel comfortable.” He didn’t want to force her into opening up. He wanted Suzanne to feel comfortable about what she chose to share.
“Umm I guess I could…” The room became quiet as Suzanne thought about what she wanted to say. It’s been so long she had to dig deep into her memory bank. Suddenly, one story popped up which made her continue. “I have one”
Dr. Lee put the pen down and removed his glasses to signal she had his undivided attention.
“All right Miss. Dandridge I’m listening”
“It was the first time we met, well as an adult at least. He was already released from jail and he thought it’d be nice for him and I to go out for dinner…”
Suzanne stopped for a second to chuckle as she began to put everything back into retrospect.
“…That night he made me feel like a little girl all over again. I remember ransacking my closet trying to find the perfect outfit. It was weird I found myself trying on all these conservative dresses I only wear for interviews and church…and yes Dr. Lee I went to church for like a hot minute.”
“Really? Why’d you stop going to church?”
“Long story…”
“Oh, ok then, so did you wear those clothes because in his eyes you wanted to appear still as daddy’s little girl?”
“Yeah I guess so…I mean it was an exciting moment for me. At 21, I finally got to reunite with my daddy. My mom, I could tell she was hesitant but wouldn’t come in between us trying to meet. I arrive at the restaurant trying to see if I could spot him but of course he was late, 30 minutes late to be exact.
“What was going through your head as you were waiting for him?” Dr. Lee asked.
“Just nervous stuff you know? Practicing what I would say. Would he be happy to see me? Does he think I’m beautiful? Will he like me? What traits do I get from him? My brain was running non-stop. Then boom he walks toward my table. He approached the table…and he said Suzette?” Suzanne shook her head in ultimate disgust.
“Suzette?” Dr. Lee said confused.
“He mispronounced my name. My name is Suzanne.”
“He didn’t know you name?
“I was so mortified but I just ignored him and continued. Besides I wanted to talk to him for guidance because at the time I was in that bad relationship with Rodney. Remember I told you about Rodney?” Suzanne asked in a matter of fact tone.
“Yes, I remember.” He quickly responded.
“Yeah well around that time, Rodney had hit me and I thought he came out in the nick of time.”
“Because you thought he’d be there to protect you?”
“Right, but I was sadly mistaken” Right then a bit of sadness reached Suzanne’s face.
“I’m assuming you spoke to him about the Rodney situation. What did he say about it?”
“Yeah I spoke to him about Rodney. Told him he slapped me up and everything. You know what that asshole said to me? ‘What did you do to him?’ “
In that moment, Suzanne shown vulnerability over the whole situation again. It was as if he did it to her yesterday. That’s how fresh the wound is. Different patients visit every day, every month, every year. They each have their own story to tell. Their own past traumas to overcome. Without a doubt, Suzanne must be the most captivating to Dr. Lee. Still quite figure out what it is, though it’s something.
“Your father blamed you for getting abused by Rodney? That had to be…mind-blowing. How did you respond?” Asked Dr. Lee as he started writing again.
“At first I was stuck, now I’ll admit the motherfucker had me tongue-tied. You know how you’re carrying a conversation with someone, then they just say something that threw your whole train of thought off? I told him that I didn’t do anything.”
“Did your mom ever mention abuse from him when they were together?”
“My mom barely spoke of my dad. I didn’t ask, she didn’t tell.”
“I had asked you what stuck out in your head about your father. What made this stick out?”
Suzanne spoke without hesitation.
“That was the day a piece of me died. I was looking for my hero and I found a villain. I always had dreams of meeting my father. How we would hug and cry as we embrace each other for the first time. Then he would promise to never leave my side again. In exchange, I got a man who suggested I should never provoke my man to hit me. This same man who didn’t know my birthday or my name!”
Clearly seeing Suzanne was upset and Dr. Lee had a long day himself. He decided to discount her bill and cut the session short. Suzanne on the other hand wasn’t done yet.
“Daddies are supposed to be the first man a woman or rather a little girl loves. He’s supposed to be the main protector of her. Guide her into the cruel world and teach her to look out for the predators of his own kind. He…!” Suzanne couldn’t hold back her tears anymore. Dr. Lee grabbed the Kleenex box and handed it to her as she spoke her emotions for the first time in a while.
“He was supposed to be my father. Now I’m this fucked up person partially because of him. I fuck men that hold money, status, and power because men taught me that is all they are. I’ve opened my legs to multiple men to fill this missing void…this feeling of validity. Somehow some way they’ve treated me like shit because I wasn’t taught what type of man to look out for. Do you have any kids Dr. Lee?”
“I have a daughter.”
“How old?”
“4”
“Do you tell her she’s beautiful? Make her feel safe?”
“All the time.”
“Good. Because maybe she won’t grow to be fucked up in the head like me. She has a good daddy to teach her to have high standards.”
Hearing Suzanne speak to Dr. Lee about being a good father had him thinking about his current situation. Roles reversed and he found himself opening up to Suzanne.
“Sometimes, I don’t know if I’m being a good father.”
“Oh please! Do you see her every day?”
“I go home to her every night”
‘Do you tuck her in at night? Tell her you love her? Spend birthdays, holidays…?”
“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for my girl” He proudly proclaimed.
“…Then you’re a great father Dr. Lee.
Appearing to cry himself he removed his glasses from his face. Quickly he wiped away his tears, embarrassed that a client got him to cry. He proceeded with his plans to cut the session short. Already made up in his mind he was going to take the rest of the day off. Suzanne completely understood and decided she was heading to the spa afterwards. They both shook hands until their next meeting and Suzanne left the office. These two have more in common than they thought. God works in mysterious ways because these sessions will bring them together more ways than one…
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