#counting down the days hours minutes seconds until his release
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KINKTOBER (Except in February) - ALASTOR X READER - DAY #1 (DRY HUMPING)
Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader
Tags: Kinktober, One-Shot, 18+, Smut, NSFW, Flirting, Teasing, Not a lot of plot, Dry humping, edging, begging
Fandom: Hazbin Hotel
Word Count: 529
A/N: Hey everybody! Time to get this show on the road. The prompt for day 1 is dry humping, so here's a little scenario for such. Enjoy. The season finale releases tonight too! So excited hehe.
Charlie and Vaggie left you and Alastor in charge of the hotel for the night because they wanted to treat themselves to a date. Vaggie couldn't even finish her sentence before Alastor interrupted,
"OF COURSE my Dear! What kind of manager would I be to say no?"
The night was very uneventful. Nifty and Husk were bored out of their minds so they decided to go to bed early. Charlie and Vaggie wouldn't return until the morning.
You were in your room, exhausted out of your mind. You decided to do one last check of the hotel before letting sleep consume you. You had nothing but panties and a nightgown that fell to your knees, but you assumed that wouldn't be much of an issue if it was just a quick scan. You realized Husk forgot to stock up the bar before closing it down, so you went to work on doing so.
You were about 15 minutes in when you heard a voice on the other side of the bar,
"Well hello, little one, what are you doing up at such an hour?"
You startled, jumping up a bit and covering your breasts, crossing your arms.
"Husk forgot to restock the alcohol before closing, so I'm finishing it up. I'm almost done."
He hummed static and looked your body up and down slowly before locking his eyes with yours.
"Would you like some assistance my Dear?"
You felt your face heat up and you slowly nodded. Not breaking eye contact with you, he walked around to the side of the bar and joined you behind the counter, granting you help with restocking.
The second you closed the fridge after putting away the final bottle, you felt a force slam you against the counter, causing you to gasp and wince a bit in pain. Alastor's hand was tangled in your hair and keeping your head down, his tall figure leaning over you and fitting around your body like the perfect puzzle piece. His face was so close to yours that you could smell his minty breath,
"You can't expect me NOT to feel you up wearing this sheer little thing. Such a doll."
You whimpered as he placed a kiss on your temple before slowly grinding against your ass. You bit your lip, trying to hold back moans. He started hiking up your night gown so only your panties were exposed and started grinding harder against those. This caused a few moans to escape past your lips.
"Muchhhh better. Such a good girl."
You wanted to look back at him but his hand in your hair kept you in place. You felt yourself getting wetter and wetter and you could tell he could feel it too. You could tell he was enjoying evoking these emotions out of you. You felt so humilated.
He continued to do this for a good while, grabbing your ass and giving you juuuuust not enough...
He suddenly stopped after planting another kiss on your temple, leaving you hunched over the counter a panting and quivering mess.
"A-Alastor... please fuck me", you desperately pleaded.
He laughed,
"Good things come to those who are patient, Doll."
⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆
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#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel alastor#hazbin alastor#alastor the radio demon#alastor#alastor x reader#18+ only#18+ mdni#hazbin hotel smut#alastor x reader smut#shameless smut
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prompt: ghost works on an oil rig. he meets reader during his osha mandated 2 weeks off. (ns/fw)
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Ghost experiences time like a sudden swarming of locusts. Absolutely devastating for a period, and then silence, just him to observe the aftermath of the wreckage.
Work on an offshore oil rig is split into shifts of two weeks on, two weeks off. During his two weeks on, he spends his near twelve-hour shifts in constant motion, muscles aching to the point of fatigue, to the point of giving out where he lugs tools and parts across the rig. He contorts himself into all manner of positions for quick and long repairs, breaking his back day in and day out because that is what work expects of him. What he expects of himself.
Lying motionless in his bed, the sound of Soap’s snoring from the bunk over him the only thing half-resembling a lullaby. Hours before sleep falls on him, and then suddenly it’s day again, opening grit-crusted eyes to the bottom of Soap’s bunk, metal and leather straps across the underside, and then he’s up and down the halls that are never big enough for him. He wakes up ravenous, never full. Hungering always.
It takes nearly a full three days onshore to get his bearings; he never quite loses his sealegs.
Foam-topped beer at his local pub. That’s how Ghost fills his days off; the rest of his crew flock off to their families, some into the warm arms of whatever casual arrangement they’ve got going on outside of the rig. For Ghost, he finds solace in counting down the minutes until his OSHA mandated period of rest is over and it’s time to head back.
There’s nothing waiting for him outside of the rig. Family home long since burned to the ground. He won’t even let his mind turn to the family in it.
He’s on the fifth day of his union-enforced leave, hunched over the bar like usual and picking away at an order of fish and chips when he happens to look up and catch sight of you. You’re chattering away at the other end of the room, dressed like one of the waitresses.
You’re new. Ghost learns as much when he turns to the bartender—an old friend of his, though he’d call him less of a friend and more of a familiar face that’s come to know his name after the years he’s spent at this particular pub—and it’s said like it’s a novelty. It is. New faces are rare in towns like this, working class towns far off from any big city. It’s the same reason he hasn’t fallen into bed with anyone in too many years to count, not when he sees the same old faces whenever he touches land.
With you though, it’s different. Ghost keeps an eye on you while he nurses his pint. It’s not hard to catch your eye; you’re new and keen and curious and when your eyes rove over the crowd that grows as night outside deepens, it’s impossible to skip over the shape of him. His line of work has shaped him into something strong and solid; linebacker-size, a condition of which is to never feel comfortable on any chair.
Your eyes go wide for all of a second, betraying you. Momentarily desirous. Ghost sees it and feels it stir in him for once in years. No longer the perfunctory thing to be dealt with in the bathroom every morning after waking up, one calloused hand wrapped around his thick length, grunting with his release and then washing his hands off before getting started with the day’s errands.
Ghost waits until he’s nearly at the end of his glass before stepping from his chair, heading out the front door. Before he exits, he makes sure to catch eyes with you again, something significant passing between the two of you.
Cigarette in an alleyway beside the pub. Taking the glove off his hand so he can feel the cig between his fingers, feel the ash flake off past his knuckles. He’s leaning against the brick wall when you come out, apron tied demurely around your waist.
It’s you that breaks the silence first. “Hi—haven’t seen you around before.”
He stares into your eyes for a spell, taking another pull before he tosses the butt to the ground, snuffing it out under his boot. “Wouldn’t imagine you had.”
You take a couple steps closer, despite yourself. Despite the fact that you know what you’re broadcasting, the way you look up at him from under your lashes, cheeks dusted with a blush that’s hardly visible in the dim light but for the way you make it obvious with the rest of you.
“I just moved into town a couple days ago. Guess I’ll see you around more often—Gaz said you’re a regular.”
“‘Spose you could say that.” Time feels molasses slow for once; Ghost feels the edge of his lip curl up into something half-resembling a grin, in another time. “Don’t suppose you’re off for the night, are ya?”
Your legs around his waist are softer than anything he’s touched in years. It’s a near revelation. There’s something in him that grows frantic when he finally has you on your back on his navy sheets; the sparseness of his bedroom hardly seems worthy of having you in it, but he won’t pass up the opportunity. His eyes go half-lidded when he gets between your legs, tongue flicking over your clit and laving over you from hole to hole. Greedy for it.
His head spins when he finally slots himself over you and pumps into the soft warmth between your legs. The little bitten off noises, kitten-like moans that get trapped behind your teeth. Your arms are snaked around his neck, tightening like your pussy around his cock. His big hands clutch at your ass, squeezing into the flesh there; everything so soft.
“None of that, love,” Ghost grunts into your neck, sucking dark bruises into the softness there. Hoping they flare bright in the morning light. “Want you loud. Gonna imagine this every time I’m alone and hard on the rig. Perfect little cunt.”
When he makes you come, fingers rubbing at your clit until you squeak, nails digging into the muscle of his back, it burns into his memory. Time stilling for once, segmented only by your quick breaths in.
For the first time in longer than he can remember, his time off-shore can’t be long enough.
#cod mw2#simon ghost riley#cod x reader#ghost x reader#simon riley x you#cod simon riley#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost/reader#simon riley#ghost cod#ghost mw2#ghost call of duty#ghost mwii#ceil writing#dont ask where im getting the energy to write this much itll vanish soon
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Rough Day
Summary: For Harry, nothing makes up for a bad day better than rough sex. Luckily, he has his friend Y/N to help out with that.
Word count: 2.1k
Warnings: smut (friends with benefits, mean dom!harry, degradation, bondage, spanking w hands and belt, choking, oral, anal, use of ball gag and butt plug)
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Harry slams the door behind him as he enters Y/N’s apartment. He texted her earlier to ask if he could come over. His message alluded to the possibility of rough play, which Y/N could hardly ever refuse. As soon as he arrives, she can sense the irritability radiating off of him. It shouldn’t excite her this much—her friend being in a crappy mood—but it does.
“Hey,” she greets him, sitting up on the couch where she’s been indulging in some online shopping for the past hour.
He just hums in response and drops his duffle bag on the floor before removing his shoes, coat, and gloves.
“Rough day?” she asks, studying him.
“You have no idea,” he mutters.
“Wanna talk about it?”
“Not really.”
Of course he doesn’t. Harry doesn’t like to talk at the end of a bad day. He likes to fuck. Without holding back.
Glancing at her, he says, “Wait there.” Then he picks up his bag and heads into her bedroom. A minute later, he emerges from the room without the bag and strides over to her.
“Up,” he says, as if he were instructing a dog.
“Okay.” She sighs and takes her time getting off the couch to avoid seeming too eager, even though on the inside, she’s ready to do just about anything he tells her.
Once she’s on her feet, he simply says, “Clothes off.”
Again, she dawdles while pulling her sweatshirt off and fumbles with the waistband of her shorts, lazily inching them down her legs. Harry releases an impatient sigh.
“Today, Y/N.”
“Okay, okay!” She quickly removes the rest of her clothes.
The path his eyes take as they trail down her bare body sends the blood rushing between her legs. He steps closer and places his mouth over hers. His hands rest on her hips for a mere second before sliding to her backside. He squeezes it firmly, his fingers digging into the flesh of her round cheeks and pulling her body upward. She rises up on her toes and clutches his shoulders for balance. His teeth bite into her bottom lip. He tugs her even closer until her naked body is flush against his clothed one.
The kiss ends abruptly, leaving her wanting more. All of a sudden, he lifts her off the ground and slings her over his shoulder like she weighs nothing at all. Her upper body hangs behind him, her ass in the air.
“What are you—?” she starts, but he lands a swift smack to her rear, ordering her to be quiet.
He carries her to the bedroom and tosses her on the bed, not bothering with gentleness, then flips her onto her stomach. While she finds her bearings, he bends down to grab something from his bag, which is sitting on the floor next to the bed.
A moment later, her wrists are pulled behind her back and cuffed together. His hands wrap around her ankles and yank her towards him until she’s bent over the edge of the bed with her feet on the floor. She hears the clink of his belt buckle behind her.
It all happens so fast. One moment, he’s rubbing the tip of his cock over her entrance, and the next, his entire length is inside her. No warning. No preamble. A strangled moan escapes her mouth.
“So fucking wet,” he growls, grabbing on to her hips. “You like being manhandled and tossed around like a ragdoll?”
He doesn’t wait for her to answer before ramming his cock into her again. Usually, he’ll start slow and build up to a hard and fast pace, but today, he seems overcome by a primal desperation—one that has probably been festering inside him all day. She can barely keep up, but that makes it all the more exhilarating.
One hand pins her bound wrists to her lower back, keeping her in place, while the other grips her hair and yanks her head backwards, forcing her to arch her back. He finishes fast, emptying deep inside of her cunt, grunting and moaning with relief. She looks over her shoulder at him.
“That’s it? I didn’t even come,” she says just to egg him on.
He grabs a fistful of her hair again and speaks lowly into her ear, “What makes you think I give a fuck about your pleasure, hm? Sluts like you don’t deserve to come.”
He releases her hair and pulls out. Some of his come leaks down her inner thigh. Through the corner of her eye, she sees him reach down towards his bag. And then something cool and hard pokes between her legs. He presses the object into her slit, twisting it around, dousing it in her arousal and his come. It’s a plug, she realizes. A rather large one.
Once it’s covered in a mix of their fluids, he uses his free hand to spread apart her cheeks and starts inserting the plug into her tightest hole. He doesn’t really take his time. The rounded tip goes in, then the rest of it is hastily crammed into her. They’ve been doing this long enough that it slides in easily, but she still squirms and whines at the discomfort.
“Oh, stop whining,” he snaps. “It’s not even that big. You’ve had bigger things in your ass before.”
She scowls at him over her shoulder. “Well, if you think it’s so easy, why don’t you try shoving one up your own ass?”
He retaliates with a harsh spank.
“Ow!”
“Bold of you to talk back to me from the extremely vulnerable position you’re in right now,” he threatens, and the effects of his words are felt right between her legs.
He grabs something else from his bag, then tells her to open her mouth before shoving a ball gag in there. He secures the leather strap behind her head.
“That’s better,” he says. “Should’ve done that ten minutes ago. Only thing your mouth is good for is sucking me off anyway. Isn’t that right?”
All she can do is glare at him with the gag in her mouth.
“Glad you agree, love,” he says with a cocky smirk.
A soft, plushy object is placed in her hand—the squeaky toy they use in place of the safeword when she’s bound and gagged. Then he folds his belt in half and gently glides the cool leather over her bum. As soon as he raises the belt, she tenses and screws her eyes shut, bracing herself for the first strike. When it doesn’t come, she relaxes a bit and opens one eye, falling for the same trick he’s used on her countless times.
The belt smacks against her ass. She cries out. A second smack makes her knees buckle, dragging her down a bit.
“Stay still,” he orders.
It’s a good thing she’s gagged because she definitely would’ve answered back with a snarky comment and made things worse for herself.
He whips her with the belt several times in a row. Her ass clenches around the plug each time. He pauses only briefly to run his hands over the bright red marks now decorating her backside, like an artist proudly inspecting his work. And then he’s back to belting her, occasionally aiming for the backs of her thighs. There’s no doubt that sitting will be a challenge tomorrow.
Tears stain the sheets beneath her while her cunt drips with arousal, the pain cathartic and excruciating at the same time. She comes somewhere between the punishing blows, too lost in the pleasure to keep count.
He eventually stops and tosses the belt aside, telling her to get up on the bed. It’s a little awkward with her hands cuffed behind her, but she manages anyway. Once again, he yanks her around like a doll until he has her in his desired position: lying on her back with her head hanging off the edge of the bed. Her hands are trapped under her but still free enough to squeak the toy if needed. He removes the gag from her mouth and instantly replaces it with his hard cock.
“Let’s put that whore mouth to good use,” he says as he begins fucking her mouth the same way he fucked her pussy earlier.
His tip connects with the back of her throat over and over, his large hands clawing at her breasts. He pinches and tugs at her nipples hard enough to make her body arch off the bed. Then he brings a hand to the front of her neck, squeezing it while his hips continue thrusting into her mouth. She presses her thighs together tightly.
Just when she thinks he’s going to come down her throat, he pulls out. She gasps for air. Finally, he takes off his own clothes and joins her on the bed, flipping her over onto her stomach. He uncuffs her wrists and cuffs them above her head instead, then lifts her up onto her knees and forearms.
She feels him tug on the base of the butt plug, fucking her with it a little before taking it out. He squirts a generous amount of lube between her cheeks and begins driving his cock into her ass but doesn’t get further than a couple inches. She’s too tense. It always seems to happen despite how many times they’ve done this.
“Gonna have to relax for me, love,” he says in the softest tone she’s heard him use all night. His hand caresses her lower back. He can be a dick sometimes, but he’s shockingly aware of when she needs a gentle touch.
“Give me a minute,” she says, steadying her breathing before telling him to continue.
He pushes in a bit more, then draws back and pushes in again, going a little deeper every time. Once the tightness in her muscles eases, he slides all the way in and holds himself there.
“Fuck,” she groans. “Fuck me.”
“Beg.”
Her mind is so muddled by the intense sensation of her hole stretching around his cock that she almost doesn’t hear the word.
“Huh?”
“Beg me to fuck your ass,” he demands.
That bastard.
“Fuck you,” she replies, though it comes out as more of a whine than an insult.
“I’m not moving an inch until you beg.” He grips her hips tightly to ensure that she can’t move either.
She doesn’t want to give in so quickly, doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction. But as much as she hates to admit it, Harry’s dick makes her weak. And the worst part is he knows it too.
“Please, H, please fuck me. Your cock feels so good in my ass. I need you to fuck me hard and not hold back. Just— Fuck! Just use me for your pleasure. Please.”
Finally, Harry’s hips start moving. He retracts them, then thrusts forward sharply. She cries out in surprise and relief. He starts pounding into her. Quick, sharp thrusts. One after another. With little pause in between. She would reach down and rub her clit if her wrists weren’t bound together. Fortunately, Harry has the same thought. His hand finds her clit, rubbing it in fast circles to speed up her orgasm.
She feels it crash over her moments later, igniting in her core and spreading outward to her limbs. Harry continues fucking her through it, not slowing down for a second. He tells her he’s going to come in her ass, calling her his good little cumslut and his perfect little fucktoy and every filthy word in the book, becoming more and more incoherent until he finally lets go with a deep groan.
Rolling over onto the bed, he frees her wrists and tosses the cuffs to the side, not caring where they land. Y/N lets her knees give out under her and falls onto her stomach with a soft thud. She closes her eyes. A while later, his fingertips graze the back of her shoulder.
“Hey,” he says softly, “you good?”
She opens her eyes and grins. “Yup.”
“Wasn’t too rough, was I?”
“You know that’s how I like it.”
A pleased sigh leaves his lips. He runs a hand through his hair, pushing the stray curls off his damp forehead.
“Thanks for letting me come over,” he says. “I really needed that.”
“Aww, you needed me?” she teases, knowing how much he despises the idea of “needing” anyone.
He scoffs and looks away, but not before Y/N can notice the blush creeping into his cheeks.
“You wish,” he grumbles.
“Whatever you say, tough guy.”
***
Thank you for reading! MASTERLIST
#harry styles#harry styles imagine#harry styles smut#harry styles x reader#harry styles imagines#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles one shot#harry styles angst#harry styles fanfic#harry styles x you#harry styles fic#harry styles writing#harry styles x y/n#harry styles oneshot#domrry#dom!harry#mean dom harry#fwb!harry#my writing
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burn your life down | chef luca x fem!reader | chapter five
summary: you and luca finally talk about what happened the night of the ballet -- and finally have a chance to clear the air.
warnings: fluff, eventual smut, eventual angst not use of y/n, conversations about divorce, slow burn, baby, second person pov, swearing, danish inaccuracies, very little connection to the world of the bear.
word count: 3k
a/n: let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist!
part four | masterlist | part six
You’ve been avoiding his calls all day.
After Luca bid you goodnight on Thursday, you’d practically sprinted upstairs and into your apartment, slamming the door behind you while wondering what the hell was wrong with you?
You’re too stubborn for your own good, you think to yourself, recalling the moment – the one where you could’ve kissed him but you didn’t – between you and Luca. You stood there, too paralyzed to make a move, yet unable and unwilling to walk away from him.
Luca had given you space most of yesterday, save for a text later in the evening, but the fact that today is Saturday, the day he almost always comes into the restaurant, is not lost on you. Instead of dealing with it, you’ve been hyper focused all day, choosing to bury your head in work as you run lunch service with Mathilde, more than grateful that business has run at a steady pace today.
It’s not until you hit a stop, forced to pause after a few hours in between the lunch and dinner rush, reaches a lull. Your brain is suddenly inundated with too many thoughts: was this it? Had you scared him away forever? Did he think you were a total freak considering you’d practically run away from him after he’d said goodnight?
“So are we going to talk about it?” Mathilde presses you, ripping you out of your thoughts with the sound of her voice. You look her way, noticing that her lips pursed in sheer annoyance at your avoidance mechanisms.
Your face falls, unable to carry this solo for much longer, letting out a sigh of resignation because you know she’s right.
You can’t run from this – from your feelings, from Luca – forever.
“Yeah,” you give in. “Yeah, okay.”
“What the hell happened?” Mathilde hisses as she approaches you. “I mean, he’s gorgeous, he’s cultured… he took you out to the ballet, and you like him!”
“I don’t know,” you huff, disappointedly. “I just-, I think I got too caught up in my head. It’s like one minute I was really jazzed at the idea of being on a date, let alone a date with Luca, and the next I’m just… I don’t know… totally psyching myself out and pushing him away.”
“Merde,” she swears in French this time.
“Fuck,” you sigh, at least releasing a little of the pent up pressure you’ve been holding onto all day.
“Babe, I know that holding all of this,” she begins, gesturing wildly towards you, “gives you a certain edge in the kitchen… but I can’t imagine it’s good for you.”
You send her another look – one that says ‘fuck off because I know you’re right’ this time.
“I don’t know what to do, Mathilde,” you confess, your eyes pleading with her for some advice.
She turns to you, this time with a much more serious expression as she says, “Luca seems like a really great guy. Maybe you should just tell him all of this.”
You nod slowly as you process. It’s not that you haven’t thought about it – it’s not like it’s a new concept to you – you were married once, after all. But the idea of being vulnerable like that, showing someone new your whole hand feels really scary. You know it’s the thing you need to do; it’s the kindest, most honest option that you have – and you know that Luca deserves just that: kindness, transparency, the truth.
As you continue to think it over, the only words that come to you are:
“I told him that I wasn’t in love with him anymore – with Joe. When he asked.”
“Luca?”
“Yeah.”
“It wasn’t a lie. Was it?” Mathilde questions you carefully.
You share your head, growing more and more certain in your answer.
“No, of course not. It’s not that. My hesitation has never been about Joe. It’s-, it’s about me…” you explain, finding the right words in the moment. “... about my heart.”
Mathilde places a gentle hand on your shoulder as you share a knowing look as she listens.
“What if I do this? I mean, what if I jump… and it’s a horrible mess… and I ruin a good thing with a really great guy because I’m not ready?” you ask, shining a light on your biggest fears.
She takes a beat, thinking it over, before crossing her arms over her chest, as the two of you stand side by side, leaning up against a stainless steel prep station.
“Then you do,” she answers, as if it were that simple. “And you figure out the rest. You’re only human after all.”
You chuckle, playfully rolling your eyes at Mathilde’s not-so-friendly reminder.
“Here’s an idea,” she starts back up again, catching your attention as you glance sideways to look at her. “What if you jump? And it’s the best thing you’ve ever done? What if it’s worth it?”
You take a deep breath, letting her words sink in, letting yourself feel the possibility that this could also be the best thing you’ve ever done too. But before you can say anything in response, Jesper comes back into the kitchen, calling for you.
“Hate to break up the slumber party, ladies, but can I borrow you for a moment, Chef?” he asks, making it clear that he’s talking to you. You and Mathilde exchange glances as Jesper nods through the open kitchen to where Luca waits for you in the dining room. You open your mouth to say something, but instead, you just nod, murmuring a ‘yeah, of course,’ quick to follow Jesper out of the kitchen.
It’s impeccable timing, really, you think to yourself, that you were just contemplating the possibility that this could be something you could do.
You could jump, you remind yourself, if you really wanted to.
“Hi,” you say, barely above a whisper as soon as you see Luca.
“Hi,” he smiles warmly in return, causing Jesper to look from you to Luca, then back to you again.
“I’m just gonna-,” he starts, searching for an excuse.
Only, he doesn’t have one, so Jesper simply excuses himself before disappearing into the kitchen to find a place where he and Mathilde both can pretend to do something when really eavesdropping.
Jesper’s abrupt and clumsy exit seems some of the palpable tension, earring a laugh from both you and Luca.
“I thought-,” he begins as you simultaneously say, “I’ve been meaning to call-.”
“Sorry,” he says with an apologetic half smile.
“No I’m-. You go first,” you encourage, blushing on a little as the two of you clumsily dance around each other.
Luca takes a breath, reminding himself that it wouldn’t be this weird if there wasn’t something between the two of you – that he hasn’t been imagining this – not even a little bit.
“I hope that it’s okay. That I’m here,” he finally says, his voice steady and even.
“I-, of course. Why wouldn’t it be?” you ask him, suddenly insecure about the fact that he felt he needed to ask in the first place.
“I just-, well I thought ehm, maybe you’d need some space. I didn’t want to ehm, you know… show up here if-, even though it’s Saturday because it is your place and I wouldn’t want-,” Luca tries to explain, stopping and starting again and again.
“Luca, no I-,” you say, before pausing, swearing to yourself under your breath as you mutter. “Shit. Fuck, I-. Goddamn, you really are fucking perfect.”
“What was that?” Luca asks, only catching the swearing part at the beginning and the ‘fucking perfect’ part at the end.
“Um…” you trail off, looking around you.
As you catch Jesper and Mathilde ducking behind a shelf out of the corner of your eye, and a few of your waitstaff hurrying to make it look like they’re busy and not listening in, you realize that you and Luca have managed to earn the attention of some very curious onlookers.
“Do you want to step outside for a moment?” you ask, gesturing towards the front door.
“Sure,” he nods, letting you lead him to a spot outside.
You make sure that you're both as out of sight as possible, staying far away from the broad windows that line the front of your restaurant.
“Hi,” you say again on an exhale.
“Hi,” he says back, simply.
“I’m glad you came. I know I-... I should’ve called, or- or texted you… after Thursday,” you begin, nervously, eager to own up to the very big part you’ve played in the lack of communication.
“Yes. You should’ve,” he repeats, his eyes catching yours as you nod in confirmation.
It’s good – that he’s not going to let you off the hook – and while you like it, you like that he has boundaries, you’re disappointed in yourself as you say:
“I’m sorry.”
Luca sighs, shaking his head as he immediately counters with:
“No, I’m sorry. I mean, yes, you should’ve called. Or at least texted. But I should’ve been clear in the first place that Thursday…” he trails off, almost as if he’s mustering up the courage to say what he needs to say.
“... that Thursday was more to me than our regular excursions. That it was a date. To me at least.”
“Luca-.”
“I wish I would’ve told you – made it clear in the first place – so you knew what you were getting into,” Luca finishes, carefully watching for your reaction. There’s something so honest in the way he goes about this conversation, and you sure as hell feel like you could take the proverbial jump right fucking now.
“I appreciate that. Really, I do…” you start, before trailing off again. “But I-. This isn’t on you, Luca.”
“How do you mean?” he asks you, his expressive brows knitted together, as if you’d just spoken in tongues.
Here goes nothing, you think to yourself.
“I-. This has been great. I mean… I really like spending time with you,” you start, anxiously, instantly realizing that it sounds like you’re breaking up with him. “Fuck, I-.”
You let out a frustrated groan as it seems you’re having an impossible time getting out what you need to get out. You take a breath. And a beat, before continuing.
“And I’ve really liked this… hanging out, getting to know you… borrowing your books. I-, I just… we’ve got such a good thing going and I really don’t want to fuck this up, you know?”
He sighs your name this time, looking down for a moment as you add:
“I’m-, I’m afraid that… I’m going to fuck this up.”
“Yeah. I know,” he answers, heavily. “I-, I am too.”
“And then Thursday night, things were so, so good, and I-, I panicked and I feel terrible because… you don’t deserve that. You don’t.”
Luca takes a beat as he listens. He’s not sure what exactly that means, but he reminds himself to stay on track, stay the course and make sure that he says what he came here to say to you.
“It’s alright,” he reassures you, softly, taking a step towards you. “I don’t want you to feel like… like you have to feel a certain way just because I-.”
“No, that’s not it! That’s not-, that’s really not the problem,” you interject as you struggle to explain yourself, unsure of where to even begin. You take a step towards him this time too, your voice softening as you continue. “Luca, I don’t feel obligated to feel… any kind of way just because you-.”
“Because I?” he questions you.
The silence his questions leaves goes on a few beats longer than you expected, and you realize that he’s waiting for you to fill in the blank.
“Well, I don’t know,” you pause, a shocked look on your face as one of you waits for the other.
“You didn’t-, I never let you finish your sentence so,” you ramble aimlessly, immediately bursting out into a fit of laughter as you realize that neither of you are getting anywhere.
Luca laughs too, joining in on the much needed reprieve.
The two of you exchange glances, and one more shared laugh, before settling in once again.
With a crooked smile spread across his lips, Luca can take a hint, realizing that he may need to take the lead on this one.
The way your name sounds on his lips is so heavenly, so divine, so soft that you know you’ve got it bad, as you scramble for a way to tell him everything that you’ve been feeling.
“May I?” he asks, in reference to taking the lead.
“Please.”
“I just came here to tell you… I want to tell you…” he corrects himself, taking a step towards you.
“... that I really like you. I really like spending time with you. I like that you get me out of the kitchen in search of something different. And I think that your mind, even though incredibly neurotic, is absolutely brilliant. And if what you need is for us to be friends right now, I want that. We can… slow all of this down. All you’ve got to do is talk to me.”
It feels like time fucking stops, and the world goes black and white for a moment, then full color all at once as you hear the words coming out of his mouth. Your revelation comes rushing in, clear as day – that this man cares so deeply for you and that maybe, your heart could be safe with him. Unsure of how to deal with the grace and compassion Luca is showing you, you’re only left with one question, as it falls from your lips like a boulder.
“How?”
“What?”
“How do you always have the right thing to say…” you ask him, your voice caught in your throat as you finish your question. “... when I only have the wrong things to say?”
Luca opens his mouth to say something you’ll never hear, as you choose to completely throw caution to the wind.
Perhaps the question was rhetorical anyways.
You’re not sure what’s coms over you, but instead of words, you only have actions left, and the only thing that will remedy the situation is to do the thing that you’ve been panicking over doing since Luca showed you into the pastry room at AOC. You charge forward, reaching out for him, and he’s right there with you, meeting you halfway as you eagerly press your lips to his.
You can feel all the blood in your body rush through you as your lips connect. Your heart flutters. Your head spins. It’s the kind of kiss that people write sonnets about – write love songs about. It’s almost three months of simmering tension, finally allowed to reach its boiling point. You pull away, just for a moment, uttering out a breathless:
“Holy shit.”
Luca laughs with a shake of his head as he agrees with a, “Yeah.”
You exchange a look, and a laugh, before kissing him again.
And this time the kiss is a hello, it’s a new beginning, it’s a ‘thank god I met you.’
This time, Luca pulls away, reluctantly releasing you as he does.
“It’s not that I don’t like this,” he begins, using all of his restraint to put this on pause. “I really, really do, but… I’m kind of getting mixed signals here.”
“No, no, I know,” you apologize, turning as you hear your name called, swearing under your breath again as soon as you see Mathilde peeking her head out of the front door.
“Oh… my God! I am so sorry, I’ll just-, except for we need you to-, she calls after you, stumbling over her words as soon as she realizes what’s going on between you and Luca.
“Nevermind it can wait!” Jesper exclaims, poking his head out of the front door as well, before dragging Mathilde back into the restaurant.
You and Luca exchange another laugh.
“They’re… something,” you chuckle, with a shake of your head.
“Good wingmen,” Luca adds, mirroring your previous exchange with his coworker.
Returning his focus to you, Luca shakes his head incredulously, considering this is not the way he thought this conversation would go. He grins as he takes you in, but knows that this is time limited. He’d noticed the curious staff of your restaurant that he’s come to know and love doing their best to pretend they weren’t listening in on your conversation earlier. They know exactly what’s going on here, so if they felt the need to interrupt, Luca knows that you’re most likely needed back in the kitchen.
He shifts his weight in between both of his feet, taking a small step back as he states:
“We’re gonna have to talk about this.”
“Yes,” you agree, your declaration certain.
“But right now you have to go,” Luca continues.
“Right now I have to go,” you echo as confirmation. “Later. I promise. We’ll talk. Tonight?”
“Yeah ehm. Not to be… presumptuous. But my place is closeby. We could… perhaps talk. Tonight. There?” Luca suggests, trying to downplay the fact that it sounds like he’s asking you to come over for a booty call.
It’s certainly not his intention, considering he’d just offered to slow things down, but he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about it.
“Yeah. I’ll text you,” you agree, suddenly nervous again. “When I’m done here. If you’re still up.”
“It’s a date,” Luca agrees, deciding to move in towards you again.
You nod, taking another step towards him so that you can kiss him again.
“Oh, and Luca?”
He hums in response, his eyes flickering from yours to your lips because he really can’t wait to kiss you again either. .
“I should be-. I want to be clear,” you begin, deciding to be brave in this moment.
He raises an eyebrow.
“I really like you too,” you say, before standing tall on your tiptoes, and pulling him down to you for, this time, a see-you-later kiss.
----------------------------
a/n: ummm hi how are we doing is everyone doing ok?!
#chef luca#will poulter#luca the bear#the bear season 2#the bear headcanon#luca x reader#the bear hulu#the bear fx#the bear fanfiction#chef luca x reader#pastry chef luca#burn your life down
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PERVY BOYFRIEND JISUNG X FEM BLACK READER (oneshot)
*im still editing pt3 of my Jisung AU, so in the meantime I wanted to post something else. I was originally going to do a pervy bf hc for Jisung (I’m still going to) but I took one part of it and well…*
PRONOUNS: none (fem reader)
TWS: sex toy, masturbation(m), cum tribute.
Word count: 553
Jisung can get off to you no matter what, when your hair is done and when it’s messy; unshaved, as smooth as the skin of a grape or with drool on the side of your cheek. Jisung thinks you look sexy no matter what, but he thinks you look especially sexy when you smile or when you’re in the sunlight. He’s so obsessed with the way your smile looks, your two toned lips and pretty brown skin have always been his weakness; he could never help himself when he sees you happy. His obsession is so bad that once when you were out Jisung begged you to take pictures for him before the sunset. You thought it was cute that he wanted to see some golden hour pictures of you and did it without a second thought, but not even 20 minutes later he sent a video of himself jerking off with the picture in front of him. calling your name as he told the camera how badly he wanted to fuck you and how pretty your skin would look painted with his cum.
But you could never understand the extent of his love for your beauty until you caught him in the act. You wanted to surprise him with some flowers since he had been working so hard with the dreamies and decided to come over unannounced. You knew that he wouldn't mind—he does it to you all the time so you didn’t think twice about showing up without a call or text. But when you got to his room, his door was wide open, and he was standing in front of his computer screen with a picture of you in a beautiful yellow sundress on display. You could remember the day you had taken this picture, the sky was clear and the sun was beaming down onto you, making your beautiful brown skin glow—it almost looked like you were made of glitter. And right before the picture was Jisung, fucking a fleshlight he had strapped to the desk with a pair of your underwear clutched in his large hand and pressed against his nose.
Panting and huffing like a dog, he placed his other hand on the desk as his knees buckled. His strokes were so strong and sharp, you could tell just from watching him how badly he wished that it was you instead. His voice trembled as he groaned and slammed his other hand on the desk, fucking the poor plastic even harder as his head dropped and the desk shook. With every thrust the desk hit the wall harder and harder—you couldn’t tell what would break first; the desk, the fleshlight, or him. It only took a few seconds longer for him to quickly pull out of the abused toy, the second he did he began to fuck his hand, aiming right at his screen as he imagined how pretty you’d look if you were standing right in front of him. The sound of his desperate and lustful moans made your stomach feel warm and tight, and as he came onto the picture of you your knees felt weak.
You waited until he finished until the last drop had been released, and when he was finally catching his breath, you made yourself known.
#nct dream x fem black reader#nct x female reader#nct dream x reader#nct dream smut#nct dream imagines#nct x black reader#nct x reader#nct smut#park jisung x fem black reader#park jisung x black reader#park jisung x reader#park jising x black reader#park jisung scenarios#park jisung smut#jisung smut#x black reader#x fem black reader#park jisung fanfic#park jisung imagines#park jisung x you#nct x fem black reader#nct fanfic#nct imagines#nct scenarios#kpop x black reader#kpop x fem black reader
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❝ blue valentine ❞ — JJK
— SUMMARY: ❝ No welcoming hugs or your voice humming one of his songs while you cooking one his favorite recipes. Jungkook noticed that you already knew about everything he did. ❞
— PAIRING: fiancé!Jungkook x female!reader
— TYPE: angst
— WORD COUNT: 883
— WARNINGS: Inspired by Babe (Taylor Swift), Ambiguous/Open Ending, Cheating, Infidelity, POV Second Person, Established Relationship/Engagement, Argument, Swearing
— NOTES: Sorry guys but today my mood is something like 'Look at this... they're holding hands. I want them dead'. But I hope you like it <3
— RELEASE DATE: February 14, 2024
— CROSSPOSTING: ao3
"You already know, don't you?"
The words left Jungkook's lips before he could control them. As much as he wanted to sound kinda nonchalant, he felt a pain in the back of his neck starting to bother him beyond usual.
He noticed what was about to happen the moment he entered the living room, closing the door behind him and without any sign of your presence waiting for him to come home. No welcoming hugs or your voice humming one of his songs while you cooking one his favorite recipes.
Jungkook noticed that you already knew about everything he did. He could see it in the dark circles under your watery eyes that kept looking at the TV in the room, even without paying real attention to the movie.
You just nodded your head, feigning disinterest about your fiancé's question — even though he could notice how your hands tightened the blanket that protected yourself from the cold.
"Honey—" Jungkook started, feeling his voice tremble and the bitter taste of blood in his throat. How many hours had he been almost biting his own lips?
Probably since he got on the plane to go home.
To come back to you.
You didn't even move, you just switch the focus of your attention for a few seconds. At the same time your eyes met his, Jungkook's heart broke into thousands of little pieces. But the gaze didn't last long. “Don't do it. I don’t wanna talk about that now, Jungkook.”
Before he could get the chance to argue against it or beg you to listen his apologies, you glared at him one more time, sending tremors through each of his limbs. He could barely sustain an exchange of gazes with you.
His fiancée. The love of his life. The one he longed to care for and protect until the end of his life. The one he should never break the heart to.
"Today is Valentine's Day."
Damn, he had really screwed up.
Swallowing hard, he nodded his head. "I... I know."
Your mocking chuckle reminded him that you knew him better than anyone. "I often can recognize your shitty attempts to lie to me. But you already knew that, didn't you?"
Fuck. "My love—" He tried to get closer to you and your double bed's edge, but the simple stretching of your hand towards him stopped his body.
Where was your engagement ring?
Something in your mind clicked on. "STOP CALLING ME LIKE THAT! ARE YOU DEAF? Didn't you listen me telling you that I don't wanna talk about your fucking cheating right now?" Jungkook's heart skipped a beat at the acidity in your tone.
The scary and new doubt in his thoughts was breaking him more than ever. "Where's your ring?"
"Wow, I'm glad you care about our engagement. When I saw so many pictures of you and that hot girl kissing at an afterparty of one of your shows, I really thought you had forgotten about it for a few minutes."
Jungkook whimpered due to your sarcasm, ignoring the fire in your gaze as he sat down next to you, already letting a river of tears run down his flushed cheeks. "Please, honey... You know I love you. That... that was a terrible mistake."
"Oh, Kookie..." His nickname never felt so painful on your lips. "I think 'terrible' is a very simple word to express how humiliating this is for me."
You felt like throwing up when he whimpered again, the bright tears suddenly progressing into a loud, annoying cry. You never imagined you would be so repulsed by looking into his Bambi eyes.
"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. Please forgive me. Please, honey..." Jungkook sobbed, ignoring her grumbles and pulling her into a tight hug.
You tried to push him away, taking off the weight of his arms that held you, afraid that you might escape after a blink of an eye. He couldn't lose you. He couldn't do it. "JUNGKOOK! LET GO OF ME! STAY THE FUCK AWAY!"
The more you tried freeing yourself from his body, the more Jungkook cried like a little child. You hated seeing him cry, almost as much as you hated him in that moment. Almost as much as you hated the pain in your heart begging yourself to forgive him. Begging yourself to keep loving him. Begging youself to give in and ignore your own mind.
You barely realized you were also a blubbering mess until you found it difficult speaking without letting out little shaky cries. "I fucking hate you. I... I hate you so bad, Jungkook. I hate what you did to me. To us."
"Me too..." Jungkook's voice sounded more broken than before and mixed with loud crying as he lightly opened his arms, freeing you from his desperate hug. "I hate myself too..."
"You disgust me, you're so disgusting. How could you do this?" You sobbed again, using all your effort to look away. If you let yourself be carried away by those pretty eyes that begged for your forgiveness, that story would repeat itself one day. You couldn't handle the possibility of living that situation all over again. "Oh my God. You really blew this. I hate you. You don't... You don't deserve me."
"I know..."
He really knew.
#jeon jungkook x reader#jungkook x reader#jungkook x female reader#jeon jungkook x you#jungkook x y/n#jungkook x you#jungkook angst#jungkook scenarios#jungkook imagine#bts x female reader#bts x you#bts x reader#bts scenarios#bts angst#bts fanfiction#bts fanfic#jungkook bts#bts ff#jungkook x oc#jungkook ff#jungkook au#bts fic#bts au#valentines day#bts drabble#jeon jungkook#jungkook drabble#jungkook fanfic#bts x fem!reader#bts x y/n
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Love Story
Spencer Reid x Fem Reader
Summary: About a week into knowing her, Spencer knew he wanted to marry her one day. So, for her birthday, at The Eras Tour, he kneels to the ground and pulls out a ring...
Warnings: allusions to sex, stupid couple fights, Spencer spoiling her, roadtrips, food and drink mention, talks of the future (future kids) proposals.
a/n: this fic is for my best friend in the whole worlds birthday. @reidsbookclub, i love you, i hope you have the best time at your concert tonight <3
Word Count: 6k
Set in the Sweet Nothing Universe
He’s been in Reno for 3 months and dating Y/N for 3 months now, too.
They practically live together now that it’s summer vacation for her. She took on some kids for tutoring, and she sees them a few hours a week whenever they have time. She mostly goes to their houses or meets them at the public library, which is right next door to his work. She brings him in a coffee or a snack whenever she’s in town, they have lunches together and she even stays a little longer in town so she can drive him home afterwards.
It’s been wonderful.
Everyone at work knows her, they call her Mrs. Reid as a joke and she thinks it's cute… Spencer, on the other hand, wishes she was his wife so, so bad. It’s way too early to ask her, even if he knows in his heart that she’s the one for him. So he’s waiting. He’s not sure how long he’ll wait. He doesn’t even know if she wants to get married one day. He still has some things to learn about her.
Her birthday is coming up, soon, he knows that much. He actually learned about her birthday when Penelope was first telling him all about her. August 4th, making her a Leo, the lion sign, even though she’s as gentle as a flower.
They haven’t planned anything for her birthday yet, it's still a couple of weeks away. He knows she’s told her kids that she’ll be busy from the 3rd to the 6th, taking 4 days just to herself, she wasn’t planning on doing anything. Spencer wants to treat her to something so bad. Be it a nice dinner, a gift she wants or a trip somewhere. So he takes those 4 days off too, he books it in advance with his boss, it’s approved and now he just has to plan something.
During one of his lunch breaks that she isn’t sitting in on, he takes out his phone and calls up Penelope. Having known Y/N longer, she’s the perfect person to discuss ideas with.
“Spencer my lovely! What are you doing calling me at 3pm on a weekday?” She answers full of cheer.
“Y/N’s birthday is coming up, I need your expert advice on what to get her,” he heads right into it, skipping all the niceties, he only cares about her.
“Taylor Swift tickets, duh!”
“I tried that months ago, they sold out way too fast,” he complains. “We missed the Vegas show 'cause I obviously didn’t know her in March, all she has left are the Seattle and California shows… but again, they’re all sold out and the resale tickets are insane.”
“Hey, six grand for 2 tickets with the love of your life is so worth it,” Penelope teases. “I might have a connection to the Inglewood show… maybe I can see if they have any last-minute tickets?”
“How do you have a ticket connection?”
“My brother's wife works for Ticketmaster, she said they save some tickets for important people until the last minute and if they’re not taken, they get released to the general public and you can get better deals if you call Ticketmaster instead of going online,” she explains. “I’ll give her a call, I’ll see what she can do.”
“Okay, call me back when you know more?”
“Will do, Spence-roo,” she says before hanging up, making him smile.
—
He goes home to Y/N’s apartment that night, they have a home-cooked meal together and they settle down on the couch to watch something on TV and just relax for the rest of the night.
She’s cuddled into Spencer’s side watching TikTok on her phone. She scrolled and scrolled and scrolled, barely watching anything for more than 30 seconds and then she stops on one. Spencer can hear the music and the cheering, it’s a tour video. He peeks over to it, watching as someone proposed to their girlfriend in the middle of Love Story.
She likes it, opens the comments and congratulated them. The next words out of his mouth are barely in his control. They just tumble out.
“Do you ever think about getting married?”
She smiles up at him, “To you? Absolutely.”
He pulls her in for a kiss. She locks her phone and tosses it to the side so she can climb into his lap and kiss him some more. His hands migrate to her hips, and she runs her fingers through his ever-growing hair. Making out with her on the couch, she lightly grinds against him, he hums into the kiss, breaking it to kiss her jaw along to her ear.
“I’d want to marry you too…”
She cups his face, staring him down, “Ask me whenever you’re ready.”
“It’s not too soon?”
She shakes her head, “No… I mean, people will probably think you knocked me up because of how fast we’ve moved but, it’s been 3 months. We know everything about each other, we sleep beside each other every single night, and I never want to break up with you. The next logical move would be to get married.”
He steals another kiss, “I think,” he kisses her again on her jaw again, making his way down her neck, “You’re right.”
She smiles, letting him go down to her boobs, “about people thinking you got me knocked up?”
He laughs against her, “I mean, we fuck so often—
“No, don’t even joke,” she pulls his attention back to her. “You can’t get me pregnant just randomly, I don’t have enough money to pay for my substitute. You’d have to knock me up so I can have the baby in the summer…”
He laughs, “You’re not serious, right?”
“I’m completely serious. I don’t get maternity leave, I have to have summer babies if I want to keep my job.”
“I have money,” he reminds her. “If we get married it becomes our money, you’d never have to worry about anything ever again.”
She settles slightly, her shoulders drop again and she stares at him so softly, “I’d still worry, you know me.”
He kisses her again, reaching up to brush her hair back, “I’m going to take care of you for the rest of your life… and if we ever had kids, you know I’d do the same for them.”
“Do you want kids, like genuinely?” She asks. “Cause I know you love Henry and you said that you thought about having them with Maeve but—
“I want you to have my babies… whenever you’re ready,” he tosses the phrase back to her.
That does it, she dives back in for another kiss, heating it up tenfold, he cradles her head and back, leaning down against the couch so he can hover over her. Working the button on her jeans open, he starts to tug on them when his phone rings. He wants to just let it ring, but it’s Penelope's ringtone. He hasn’t changed it, no matter how long he hasn’t worked with her, it’s still the same thing.
“Hold on,” he whispers, trying to pull away.
“Leave it,” she tugs him back in. She gets a few more kisses in and then he pulls back further.
“I can’t, I’m sorry, I have to take this,” he reaches out to grab his phone off the coffee table and walks out of the apartment to take the call.
“Hello?”
“Hey, sorry, I know it’s late,” Penelope answers. “But I have good news. We were able to pull some strings and I got you 2 floor tickets for the 4th.”
“No way?” He’s gobsmacked.
“Way!! I gave her your information, the tickets are in your name and they’re being mailed to you so you’ll have physical tickets. You can just pay me back.”
“What was the damage?”
“they were $1800 each…”
“That’s a lot better than the resale price,” he’s so glad. “Thank you, Penny, really, she’s going to love this.”
“Hey, she was my friend first, I’d do anything for her,” Penny teases. “Now go back to hanging out with her, I’ll talk to you later, okay?”
“thank you, we love you,” he reminds her.
“I love you too!” And then she’s gone.
He heads back inside and she’s no longer on the couch. The tv is off, all the lights are out, and she’s retreated back to the bedroom. He knocks before he enters, “Hey… sorry about that.”
“It’s fine,” she says, clearly a bit upset. “I get it, works more important that me sometimes.”
“No, no it’s not… and that wasn’t work.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better? Cause it doesn’t.”
He timidly walks towards her, “Hey, hey, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have walked out on you like that. I know. But it was important… it’s for your birthday, that’s all I can say.”
She bites back a smile, looking him dead in the eyes. “Really?”
He nods, “You still have from the 3rd to the 6th off, right?”
She nods, “I do… why?”
“I’ll tell you more when the day gets closer, just, don’t plan anything, I want to make this special. This is our first birthday together, I want to celebrate you.”
“Okay, you’re forgiven,” she gives in, she rushes over to him and tosses her arms around his neck. “But next time it rings and you’re about to go down on me, it can wait.”
“It definitely can,” he agrees, picking her up, he tosses her onto the bed. “Let me make it up to you.”
—
She watches the era’s tour live streams on TikTok every weekend, she favourites outfits that she’d want to wear and she tells Spencer all about the surprise songs that she’d want to hear live one day.
What she doesn’t know is that Spencer has memorized everything she’s said and he’s been using it to his advantage. He’s found her Pinterest board with eras tour dream outfits, and he’s made a playlist of her favourite songs so he’ll be able to sing along no matter what surprise songs happen. And he’s started to buy tour outfits for himself too.
He puts a lot of work into her tour outfit, too. It’s midnights themed, he got her a denim jacket with the back panel cut out and replaced with a starry lace pattern. He bought iron on paper and printed out her favourite lyrics to iron onto the arms and put stars on a pair of dark blue Converse. He’s even been making friendship bracelets while on his lunch break at work. He just hasn’t been able to decide on what to get her to wear under the jacket and with the shoes. Nothing seems to be perfect enough.
He’s walking home from work one night when he passes a window display full of sparkly dresses. He just doesn’t want to get her the wrong size. So he has the bright idea to take one of Y/N's dresses with him to the store to compare sizes. Trying to steal one of her dresses… that’s going to be difficult.
“I have a question for you,” he asks that night at dinner. “But you can’t ask any follow-up questions or anything, okay?”
“Alright..?”
“Can I have one of your dresses to compare to a dress I want to buy you for your birthday?”
She swoons, “Yeah… or you could take my measurements?”
“Either way, I just want to make sure it fits.”
And so that night she gives him one of her favourite dresses. She tells him the size she prefers in different fabrics and he makes a mental note of every single thing she says.
-
The next day, he brings the dress to work with him, people want to ask questions but they don’t. He makes it through the day, walks out of work with the dress and right into the store he saw yesterday.
The shop owner clocks him right away, noticing the dress, she thinks he’s making a return.
“Hi, how can I help you?”
“I’m surprising my girlfriend with Taylor Swift tickets for her birthday and I’m trying to plan her outfit, too, and the dress in the window is perfect! I brought in one of her other dresses, just to compare sizing so I get it right,” he explains.
“Oh my god, aren’t you the dream boyfriend?” She teases. “Can I see that?”
He places it on the counter for her, she takes a look at the tag and holds it up, “I think I have the window dress in this size… what era are you going for?”
“I made her a jacket in the Midnights aesthetic and her shoes are evermore,” he shares. “The dress in the window is kinda mirrorball-esque, I like it.”
“You know your shit,” she can’t believe it. “Do you have an outfit picked out?”
He shakes his head. “No, I can’t decide if I want to do fearless or lover…”
“You could do both, get a puffy Romeo shirt and some pink pants, that would be cute?”
“Yeah, yeah I like that idea… you know the Lover album cover, the heart she has around her eye? How would I do that?” He asks, he hasn’t had someone to talk to about any of this, so he’s taking a chance and asking everything.
She’s really helpful, she’s able to get him the dress in the right size, show him where he can get adhesive sparkles for the face, helps him plan his own outfit and even get some accessories too. He spends a fair bit of money in her store and he thanks her.
“I’m going to bring her back here after the tour, maybe she can get her engagement party dress here,” he suggests.
“Wait, are you going to ask her to marry you at the show?”
He nods, “During love story.”
“She’s one lucky girl,” the shop owner swoons again. She’s overjoyed for them. “If you bring her back here for that I’ll give you a discount, that’s the sweetest thing in the world. I really hope she says yes.”
“Me too.”
—
He stole a piece of her costume jewelry when she wasn’t looking, a ring she typically wears on her right ring finger and brings it with him to all the jewelry shops he goes to. Finding a ring that feels like Y/N is hard. He wants it to be perfect, he wants it to be big and pretty and something she’ll show off to everyone. He wants it to be a ring that will stay in style for the next 50 years, he wants it to last.
He’s looked at a million styles, every colour and cut imaginable… but nothing seems right. He knows the kind of rings she likes from her Pinterest, but even they don’t seem to fit what he imagines for them. This ring is supposed to symbolize their love and their relationship. It has to be perfect.
He finds the ring on Etsy of all places. It was his last chance to get a ring. There were only 2 weeks until her birthday and he had to make sure the ring was in his possession before they took their trip to LA.
The ring comes in two parts, one ring for the engagement and the other for the wedding. The wedding band perfectly encompasses the engagement ring, making the main ring look like it has little leaves coming out from around it.
He gets them in white gold, the main stone is a man-made, oval-shaped diamond and the stones around it are man-made opal, 4 on each side to be exact, shaped like little diamonds. The wedding band also has man-made stones, in green. Together, they look perfect. He has them expedited, he pays the artist top dollar to make sure they’re at his house by August 1st and he prays they make it.
—
She picks him up after work on July 31st and when they arrive at his house, there’s a package sitting on his front step. Part of him is furious that they just left it, they didn’t leave a drop-off notice and take it back to the UPS store for safekeeping, the rest of him is relieved that it made it. Y/N on the other hand, is nosey. She wants to know what he ordered. She’s curious as to why he didn’t want to open it in front of her, but she doesn’t bring it up again once he hides it in his room.
They’re in the middle of cooking dinner when she wraps her arms around him, stands on her tip-toes and rests her head on his shoulder to watch him stir around the pan. “Can I ask a question about my birthday?” She pries slightly.
“Depends on the question.”
“Do I have to pack a bag or anything?” She asks the first question.
“Yeah… I got us an Airbnb for the few days we’re taking off work,” he explains, not giving away too much.
“Okay, and what should I pack?”
“Underwear, pyjamas, comfy clothes,” he lists off a few things. “Makeup and whatever you want to do with your hair… I’m going to tell you what’s happening the day of, you’ll have a few hours to plan for each event.”
“Each event?” She picks that out.
He just nods, “You’ll find out more later.”
“Fine,” she sighs, resting her chest against his back now, she holds him tighter. “I’m going to go all out for your birthday too, you know.”
“I know… we’re kind of obsessed with each other,” he teases.
“I think it’s called love,” she reminds him.
“You’re right… I do love you a lot,” he says as he spins around in her grip and hugs her close, kissing her neck gently. “I love you so much.”
She hums happily, “I love you too, sneaky man. It’s killing me that I don’t know what’s happening but I trust you.”
“Good,” he pulls back and cups her cheek. “How would you feel leaving late on the 2nd instead of early on the 3rd?”
“We can do that, I know you prefer driving at night,” she knows him well. “We can pack after work and leave once we’re done.”
“I will be packed the day before,” he teases. “I’m not a last-minute man.”
“Oh, I know, you don’t do anything lightly, but I might need help packing,” she reminds him. “You can help me pick out accessories and shoes to match whatever you got me.”
“You think I didn't get you shoes and accessories? Have you seen me?” He teases, that’s one thing she loves about him. He’s always matching.
She just laughs, “Of course you did.”
—
Spencer walks from his apartment to hers with 2 suitcases, one for his own things and one just for their eras tour outfits. He has her second key fob, so he unlocks her car when he arrives and puts his things in the backseat and heads up to her apartment. He knocks once but ultimately lets himself in. “Babe?”
“Bedroom!” She calls back, letting him know where she is.
“Hey…”
“So I’ve played out a bunch of outfits, what ones will be good for what you have planned?”
“Anything is good, I have your outfit for the main event planned, the rests are dinners, brunches and us driving to and from California.”
“We’re going to California?” She can’t believe it… but then she clues in. “Oh my god, Spencer, why are we going to California?”
He shrugs, “I don’t know, you tell me?”
“I’m going to lose my mind if we’re doing what I think we’re doing,” she explains, rushing to his side, she places her hands on his shoulders, “I’m going to go nuts.”
“I have no idea what you’re referring to…”
She can’t believe him, she just hugs him and holds him there, “Oh, you’re so cute when you try to lie to me, I love you so much.”
“I love you,” he hugs her back, kissing the top of her head. “Now, hurry up and pack, we can check into the Airbnb after 10pm tonight, if we leave now we could be there by midnight?”
And so they pack her up, they check the apartment to make sure everything is off and all the widows are closed and they head out. She locks the door, he brings her suitcase down to the car and she lets him drive. He’s a lot more comfortable on the road at night, he takes them out of Reno, down Highway 695 towards Carson City. They see Bridgeport, Willow Springs, Mammoth and Crowley Lake, Big Pine, Independence, Long Pine and then they stop for gas and a snack. He drives from Long Pine to Ridgecrest and then they pass through Mojave around 11:30.
They’re in the home stretch now. She knows exactly what’s happening when they go through Santa Clara. She can see on their GPS that by taking the 405 south they’ll end up in Inglewood in just a few minutes.
He got them a cute little Airbnb just a stone's throw from the stadium, they’d be able to walk to and from if they wanted to. Once he parks outside of it, she turns to him with tears in her eyes. “How did you manage to do this?”
“Penelope,” he says with a smile. “She knows someone at Ticketmaster, they got me really good tickets for the 4th. I bought you an outfit, I made myself one, too… I know how badly you wanted to see her so I made it happen.”
“You really are the man of my dreams,” she swoons. “Thank you.”
“I’d do anything for you,” he reminds her. Meaning every word.
“I know… now let’s get all our shit inside so I can give you a proper thank you.”
—
They spend their first day there just looking around. They have brunch at a cute little spot she’s always wanted to try, they visit the National History Museum and Exposition Park. It’s a lovely day where they just get to hold hands and be together. They order dinner to their Airbnb and eat while watching TV and then they spend another night in bed together. It’s perfect.
When they wake up on the 4th, Spencer smothers her in kisses and wishes her a happy birthday… they don’t leave the bed for a while after that.
He orders her breakfast and while they’re waiting for it, he shows her the outfit he has picked out for her. The dress, her jacket, the shoes, a cute little clear purse for the stadium and a lot of sparkly makeup options for whatever she wants to do.
“Spencer, this is perfect?” She’s amazed by it all. “How did you know?”
“I found your Pinterest,” he shrugs. “and you always show me cute outfits on TikTok, I took a lot of inspiration from what I knew you’d like and your favourite songs to make this… and these,” he pulls out a ziplock bag full of bracelets. All handmade. All perfect.
She spreads all the bracelets out on their bed, and she reads each and every single one. He has sent titles, lyrics and abbreviations, even quotes from Taylor that he’s memorized from how many times she’s watched Miss Americana on her days off. “Spence, how am I going to part with these?”
He shrugs, “Don’t trade your favourites? Maybe leave any special ones here?”
“Yeah, I guess I could do that… I can’t believe you went through all the trouble of making these just for me, seriously, when did you have the time?”
“On my lunch breaks,” he laughs to himself. “I had no idea what I was doing and then Keesha, our undercover girl, showed me how to make them better.”
“Everything is perfect, Spence,” she stands and wraps her arms around him, holding him close. “This is going to be the best night of my life.”
She really had no idea.
“I was thinking we could maybe go get our nails done,” he says as she pulls away. “We don’t have to be at the stadium till 6, I think it would be nice to get some eras nails done? I might even get some colour?”
“Yeah, that sounds amazing!” She agrees, not thinking anything of it.
He really just wants her to think her nails are pretty when he slips the ring onto her finger later tonight.
He already made the appointment with a local nail salon for 1pm, giving them enough time to head back to their Airbnb and get ready for the show and maybe even get something to eat before they go. He’s such a planner. She loved every second of it, it made her less stressed to know that he already knew everything that was going on and he was confident about it too.
He gets his nails done as well. He’s always wanted to but never had the chance to. He gets just basic gel while she goes all out with a shorter acrylic shape, she gets sparkles and stars all in the 10 different album colours and she loves them. She keeps staring at them the whole walk home, she loves how they sparkle in the light and how pretty the shape makes her hand look.
The ring is going to look even better on her hand now.
They shower together back at their place, Spencer watches in awe as she does her hair and her makeup and it’s not until the end that he hands her the adhesive sparkles and asks her to help him put the lover heart around his eye.
“What did you plan for your outfit?” She asks while carefully sticking each sparkle to his face.
“I got some bright pink pants, like, highlighter pink, bright,” he smirks. “I also bought a puffy shirt like Romeo… I wanted to go for Lover Story.”
She laughs, “Oh you’re going to look good.”
“I also bought cowboy boots…”
“You didn’t,” she can’t believe it. “What colour?”
“Pink.”
“Oh my god, Spence… really?”
“well like you said Lover and Midnights go together like they were planned to be back to back and you’re my other half so I wanted us to match… and then I’m partly fearless which came after Evermore which is on your shoes, so, it all matches.”
“I love you,” she cups his face gently, “like it’s insane how much I love you.”
“It’s not insane. It’s the perfect amount,” he teases, pulling her in for a kiss.
—
She doesn’t know they have front-row seats until they’re at the stadium getting their tickets checked. The best part of her reaction at the gate is that she thinks this is the last surprise… she’s so overjoyed with the thought of being that close to Taylor Swift that she can’t even fathom him proposing tonight.
From all the Tiktok's that she’s watched since March, she knows that the best time to go to the merch stands isn’t before the concert. It’s during. So, on their way to their seats, they simply buy some overpriced drinks and trade a couple friendship bracelets before heading towards their seats. She looks around with her mouth agape, amazed at how big the place is and how much of the stage takes up the floor.
At their seats, she shakes her head and lets out an exasperated laugh, “I can’t believe you got these?”
“Only the best for my girl,” he teases, wrapping his arm around her, he brings her in and kisses the top of her head. “I love you, Happy birthday.”
“I love you,” she smiles up at him. “Thank you for this, really. I’m going to thank you a million times.”
“You don’t have to,” he waves it off. “I wanted to come too, you know, she’s a big reason we’re together in the first place.”
“If only we could tell her thank you,” she laughs.
“We should’ve made a sign,” he teases.
“We should’ve…” she agrees. “Maybe I can just put big text on my phone and hold it up to her?”
“That could work.”
So that’s what she does, sitting in her seat, waiting for the opener, she drafts a few things to say while the stadium starts to fill up.
It takes a while before someone behind them actually shows up. Spencer worried there for a moment that the seats behind him didn’t sell and thus part of his plan for tonight would be ruined… but then a couple girls, in their teens, show up just before HIAM comes out to play.
Spencer takes something from his pocket, pretends to reach between their seats to the floor and turns back to one of the girls. “Um, I think you dropped this,” Spencer says to the girls behind them, he hands them a note and a $5 bill. Y/N watches him hand it back to them and then turns right back to watching the openers play.
“Oh thanks,” the girl says with a smile. She opens the note and her eyes widen as she reads it.
‘Can you please record me and my future fiancé during love story? I have an important question to ask her and I want to remember it forever.’ And his number at the bottom.
She looks at Spencer with her eyes full of tears and nods, mouthing “I can do that.”
He gives her a thumbs up and turns back to watching the show. HAIM are a band he’s heard Y/N play before, he’s surprised how many words he knows just from being around her. They’re amazing and he knows that because they’re on the tour now, that means their song with Taylor has been added to the setlist. He really likes that one, even if it is about premeditated murder.
He knows the setlist like the back of his hand. It starts with Lover, the intro is a remix of all her eras names over top of the song Miss Americana and The Heartbreak Prince, the dancers wear these big sheets of fabric, peacocking around the stage and then they cover the middle of the main diamond stage. Once they lift the sheets back up, however, Taylor emerges onto the stage and the crowd goes wild.
He’s seen the show on Tiktok live so many times that he’s okay with missing it in person, instead, he watches her. He watches the way she stares at Taylor like she hung the stars and the moon herself. Like she’s some sort of god and everyone here is blessed to be in her presence. She cries, shaking her head in disbelief, she chants the words back to her and doesn’t even realize Spencer has been staring at her the whole time.
“Look how close she is,” Y/N bumps his shoulder and points. “She’s literally right there.”
“I know,” he smiles, so in love with her he couldn’t even pay attention to Taylor.
When Cruel Summer starts, she screams so loud, Spencer’s sure she’s going to lose her voice tomorrow. He finally starts paying attention to the show now. Singing along, he knows all the words. He actually really loves this song. And the man. He loves everything from Lover simply because he’s so deeply, deeply in love.
Post-lover, Taylor heads in for a costume change and thats when Spencer starts to feel anxious. He’s 2 songs away from his big moment. He checks his pockets, he still has the ring, in its box staying safe, it’s right there and ready to go. He almost blacks out for most of Fearless, he snaps back into it for You Belong With Me and the first note to Love Story gets his heart beat racing a million miles a minute.
He looks back at the girl behind him who has her phone out already she smiles at him, nodding like she’s ready to go and he takes a deep breath. Taylors walking down the catwalk, she’s going to be literally right in front of them when he gets down on one knee… he doesn’t think she’s seen a proposal this close and in person yet on this tour? Maybe she’ll notice them?
He sings along, genuinely loving the song and it steadies him a little. Y/N is singing too, jumping up and down and pointing at Taylor during all the best parts. She’s having the time of her life… she has no idea what’s coming.
The second chorus comes and he reaches into his pocket, he’s holding the box in his hand and his heart is in his throat.
“And I got tired of waiting… wondering if you were ever coming around, my faith in you was fading! When I met you on the outskirts of town!” Y/N sings along. “And I said Romeo save me I’ve been feeling so alone I keep waiting for you but you never come is this in my head I don’t know what to think, he kneels to the ground and pulled out a ring and—
She notices then that he’s dropped to one knee, following the song, he holds open the little black box and she screams. Everyone in their section is screaming. “Marry me, Juliet, you’ll never have to be alone I love you and that’s all I really know!” Spencer sings along to the song.
She’s frozen, can’t believe this is happening and real but she looks at the ring and then at him, her eyes full of tears. “Yes!!! Yes, I’ll marry you!!” She gets down to the ground with him and pulls him into a kiss, he smiles into it, happier than he’s ever been in his whole life.
When she pulls back he takes the ring from the box and slides it onto her ring finger. He helps her back to her feet and all she can do is stare at it. “Holy shit?”
“I love you!” He shouts, loud enough for everyone to hear. “I want to love you forever.”
She pulls him into another hug, not even noticing that Taylor did see it. She pointed at them, she got excited and there was footage of it from a million different angles that she’ll get to see later. She finishes the song, running back to make her mark and then she disappears once again to get ready for Evermore.
Y/N snuggles into his side, her left hand resting on his chest, she keeps pulling her hand back to look at it. There’s just enough quiet between eras that she asks, “Where did you get it? It’s beautiful.”
“Etsy,” he says with a smile. “It was on my doorstep the other day when you came over.”
“No way?” She laughs, “how long have you been planning this?”
“Since I asked you how you felt about getting married one day,” he admits.
She stands on her tiptoes and leans in for another kiss, “I Love you.”
“I love you,” he reminds her. “Forever and always… but I actually mean that.”
She laughs, “god, you really are the number 1 fearless stan, aren’t you?”
He’s about to reply when the girls behind him poke him in the back, “Hey!” They both turn around. “I texted you the video and my friend got the other angle of Taylor's reaction!”
“She saw it?!” Y/N freaks out.
They nod, freaking out with her, “Yeah!! She pointed at you guys and she was so happy!!”
“Holy shit!” Y/N shouts for the second time. “This is the best day of my fucking life, how does it keep getting better?”
“I don’t know man, but congrats!” The girl says. “You guys are so cute together.”
“Thank you,” they say at the same time.
She looks at him this time like he hung the stars. If you told him just 4 months ago that he’d find the love of his life and get engaged to her at a Taylor Swift concert of all places, he would’ve laughed… now he can’t imagine his life going any other way.
This is where he was always supposed to be.
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The Countdown
TW: self hate, slef isolation, harmful thoughts, believing that one's gonna die
there's always been a countdown in his head, since he could remember himself, at first phantom thought that it was the countdown until he would get on someone's nerves too much and wouldn't be able to protect himself.
then he got summoned.
phantom was so sure that that's it, he got released from the timeless countdown. until the first sibling told him about the plans to send him back.
the thing about the topside is, time is different, it isn't liquidy, every second counts. and every second did in fact, was counted.
and then it got to 354600 seconds.
or 5760 minutes.
or 96 hours.
just 4 days.
that was when they got back to the ministry, that's when phantom knew that this time, this countdown is final for him.
his room was empty, it only had a bed that he barely had time to sleep in and a half empty closet, the blinds in the window above his bed were wide open, through which orange rays of sunlight came in and he could see the sunset in all its beauty.
phantom hated how much he loved it.
he left his bag next to his already locked shut door and looked at the sunset a bit more. It was so disgustingly beautiful.
he slammed the blinds closed, couldn't bare the sight of the sky anymore.
he sat down on his bed and sighed before he fell on his back and looked at the celling tiredly.
the tour is over. his life topside ended with it.
at least it seemed like papa would give him a few days to mourn the stars he won't see again.
'would they even miss me?' he thought as he sat up on the bed. 'no, of course not. aether will be back soon, why would they need me?' he, or maybe it was just that little voice in his mind, said back.
and he sighed as he closed his eyes, trying to imagine how it would feel like to be nothing again.
his dreams were full of stars, and maybe that's why he missed the bearly heard knock on his door.
or maybe phantom lost himself between the stars.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
when he woke up, panic possessing his every sense, he didn't know what the time was, just the sense of a new day.
and in those last 259,200 seconds,
those last 4,320 minutes,
those last 72 hours,
those last 3 days, it started to drip, like two clouds that the wind had carried towards each other. like blood from nose.
like phantom's own tears.
it's not like he wasn't already panicked about that, phantom remembers how draining it was to be summoned, he knows how horrible it was. he knows that he won't survive being sent back, that it'll kill him.
he has had way too many panic attacks about it, curled into the tiniest, tightest, saddest little ball in his bunk, his tail wrapped around his middle in some sort of self soothing and the blanket swallowing him whole, sobbing onto his fist, the tears staining his face while the pack sat together, doing whatever, either actually not hearing him or pretending not to.
but that was while he was on tour. while the countdown didn't feel that close, didn't really had a set date, just time that always changed. but now... now it was different. now he only has four more days.
the numbers are so vivid in his mind, phantom thinks it's nicer to count in seconds, four days are way too little, in hours the numbers are double-digit, in minutes they're double of that.
but the seconds are much more, even if they ran down faster. it gives some sort of comfort, like it gives him more time.
not like it helps really, he still paincks, especially when he opens his phone.
he hates it, that little stupid device, the light always annoys him, he never really understood how to use it, nobody truly cared to teach him, they didn't want to talk to him face to face, why would they bother to even send a text?
his hands trembling while he held his phone, it could have been just because he's cold, he's always cold lately it already became comforting, or maybe it's the pain in his, well everything, he doesn't really know, or cares enough about it, he's already doomed anyways, it doesn't really matter if he suffers a bit too.
tapping twice on the screen to light it up, squinting at the too bright light, phantom doesn't even know why he's doing it.
it didn't matter, nothing really matters anymore. nobody cares about him, aether is coming back, he isn't needed. and aurora...
aurora.
maybe it's just stupid, maybe it's just for his own comfort, maybe it was because she asked him to say goodbye, maybe it was for a whole nother reason. maybe.
he still opened her chat, few messages that she sent him, unread for unknown time, the time didn't truly have any more meaning, just those last few days.
'please'
'phantom'
'?'
'be okay'
'you promised.'
he doesn't even know what she's asking, he isn't okay, she knows he doesn't like this stupid phone... maybe she grew tired of him too, maybe she sent them all just to feel better about staying when he can't.
just as he was about to turn it off another message popped up.
'you know how much you mean to us, talk to me? please'
and it all rushed to the front, he typed, regreted it, threw the phone away, his heart beating way too fast, his breathing stuttering until the sob forced itself out of his throat.
phantom cried himself to sleep, not knowing, or caring ,if he actually pressed send to those two words.
it has felt like they were burnt to his skin now, just two simple words that hold way too much weight, just 'i don't'.
he didn't hear the knock that night too, maybe he never will.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
phantom woke up because he couldn't breathe.
all he had left are 172800 seconds,
2880 minutes,
48 hours,
just 2 days.
phantom was on the floor, his head hurts, his chest rising and falling way too fast, legs tangled in his blanket, everything felt upside down.
his face felt dirty, skin itching, hair falling onto his eyes, he could feel his blood in his veins, hear his heartbeat in his ears. maybe he's going crazy, maybe it's just panic that he never truly felt until now, that his time is almost up.
phantom kept laying on the floor.
there's no reason to get up, no reason to even open his eyes, he is doomed anyways, it doesn't really matter if he opens his eyes or no.
and maybe, if he won't move, won't blink, won't breath he will die before they'll drag him out, before he'll be sent back, just to be a little more productive, papa always was nice to him, he shouldn't waste energy for sending him back if phantom can just... be gone by his own body.
and maybe, if he dies on the topside he will turn into stardust. maybe he will be great if that will be his fate.
so he just lays thete, swallowing any and all sobs that threaten to escape. his heartbeat never actually slowing down, his tears always reappearing, his panic is now engraved in his bones.
this night he doesn't miss the first knock, not the second or the third, one after the other.
he just ignores them, it's just his brain playing tricks on him.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
he hasn't slept.
86400 seemed like a big number, but it was just seconds, they pass faster than a blink.
1440 was also a big number, if it wasn't minutes phantom would have felt better with it.
24 wasn't a big number, it was also the age that he died as a human, he didn't like that number at all.
just 1 last day.
phantom's face felt sticky, or maybe he was still crying, he couldn't really tell when he was crying or not anymore.
his legs hurt, like he was walking on shuttered glass, even though he wasn't walking at all.
his hands were shaking, he looked at them, holding them up to his face before letting them fall back to his sides, letting them shake.
phantom doesn't remember much from his time as a human being, and maybe it's better this way, but he wished that human him didn't feel the same way he does on the day he died.
61200 seconds,
1020 minutes,
just 17 hours.
maybe he shouldn't do nothing today, but he couldn't bring himself to get up, his body was aching, it knew that this is it, that's the end, there isn't much time at all.
maybe he should cry some more, sob, yell, he only has 54000 seconds,
900 minutes,
15 hours left.
maybe he should panic, he's going to die, he knows for a fact that he won't survive being sent back, he bearly survived being summoned.
phantom doesn't feel anything, just letting the pain in his body embrace him completely.
the floor was warm beneath him, maybe all of his body heat sipped onto it, he closed his eyes. not sleeping, but not awake. just letting his last seconds, minutes, hours, his last fucking day, slip away from him.
7200 seconds,
120 minutes,
2 hours.
it doesn't feel real.
maybe he's scared, he's pretty sure he let go of all of his feelings though, as a defense mechanism against, well, death.
the seconds ticked by, taking away minutes with them and phantom stood up. slowly, using the wall to support him as his whole body shaked from he doesn't even know or cares to know. his head felt like it was floating before he blinked a few times, clearing his vision a bit.
stumbling out of his room in the dead of night, while everyone else is asleep feels like a crime, something that he'll be punished for, but he's already getting punished for existing so it's okay.
the cold air hit his face like a slap, or maybe getting iced water thrown at him, and suddenly he felt awake, not quite alive but halfway there, he won't allow himself to feel alive so close to his death.
just 3600 seconds,
60 minutes,
one last hour.
he was walking slowly, he knew that, but it was raining and his body, legs especially, were aching and screaming at him to not walk at all, he was scared that he'll fall.
he only had more 3120 seconds, 52 minutes, when he reached the old tree that he saw from his (not his anymore) bedroom window, he doesn't know why he was looking for this tree specifically, there was just something comforting about it.
phantom leaned against the tree, letting his quintessence sip into it until he could feel every branch, every leaf, every one of the tree's roots.
he felt like his body was melting into it before he slowly say down, letting his head lay against the wet tree.
oh, he let out a sad, unaudible, laugh as he realized how little he actually had left.
1320 seconds, 22 minutes.
he doesn't truly knows what's going to happen when the time's up. maybe they're looking for him right now, maybe that's when they'll find him. maybe that's when his body and quintessence will give up on him.
maybe.
he just looks at the stars for now, silent tears falling down his face, a laugh bubbling in his chest, it's not a funny situation but he just wants to laugh at it all.
and as he looks at the stars, he can see the pack's faces in between them, he blinks and they're gone.
and maybe it's okay, he realizes, maybe it's okay if he'll never see the pack again.
if he and aurora will never cross paths again.
if he and swiss won't ever make eye contact again.
if he and dewdrop won't ever look at the same star again.
if he and rain won't ever be in the same room again.
if he and mountain won't ever breath at the same time again.
if he and cumulus won't ever sit at the same table again.
if he and cirrus won't ever look at the same thing again.
if papa won't ever smile at him again.
if he will never meet sunshine, aether and omega.
it's okay if he was never part of the pack, he isn't so sure that he wants to be part of it anymore.
three,
two,
one,
phantom loses himself between the stars.
#jester rumbling#it's supposed to be 4 +1#but i don't like the +1#so idk#because it gives out hope yk#and i wanted this to have a sad ending#anyways#ghost#the band ghost#nameless ghouls#phantom#phantom ghoul#aurora#aurora ghoulette#swiss ghoul#dewdrop ghoul#rain ghoul#mountain ghoul#cumulus ghoulette#cirrus ghoulette#copia#papa copia#sunshine ghoulette#aether ghoul#omega ghoul#phantom believing that he's being sent back to the pit
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Disrespect- Wizarding world.
Summary: You’re tired and overwhelmed and in a serious bad mood, bu that doesnt mean you can take it out on Remus without punishment.
Warnings: Pet names, disrespectful behaviour, nudity, Sub & Dom dynamics, subspace, punishment, crying, spanking, little angsty.
Pairing: Wolfstar x GN!Reader.
Word count: 2,300.
"I'm just trying to help you, Bunny, it'll make it easier for you," Remus muttered mindlessly as he skimmed the pages of his book. I rolled my eyes and huffed out a breath before throwing my own potions book on the bed away from me, sour-faced.
"Y/N, watch your attitude." Sirius piped up, raising his eyebrow at me. I ignored him and buried my face in the blankets of Moony's bed. I knew the use of my name instead of a nickname was a serious warning rather than a passing comment but I wasn't in the mood for him to complain about my behaviour. I was stressed, overtired, overworked, overwhelmed and in need of an escape into my subspace but hadn't had the chance for a while.
"I'm just saying, if you don't get some work done now then you'll end up stressing and cramming all your work in at the last minute. You know I'm right Bun." I scoffed, lifting my head as I sat up and staring at the lycanthrope who looked rather surprised at me.
"I'm not a child Remus, I know how to manage myself." I shot back, glaring slightly as I hopped off the bed in a huff.
"Last warning Y/N, you won't be told again." I met Sirius' gaze, challenging him slightly with a scowl.
"Whatever," I knew I was being unreasonable but my bad mood had taken over completely. "Stop acting like you know everything Remus." That was my last word before I grabbed my bag and stormed out of their dorm and down to the black lake for some alone time.
———————————————————————————————
Two days had passed since I had spoken to Remus like crap and on the first day I didn't speak to either of them, knowing they were too pissed off, the second-day things seemed to have settled a little, speaking to me but not being as close and open as they usually were. The guilt of the situation had hit me hard and I scolded myself in my head every hour as I watched how Remmy had shut down a little, distancing himself. I had nested myself into bed at night in the girl's dorm, feeling unusually cold because my boys weren't cuddling me to sleep but I was also too stubborn and hated apologising.
Knowing if I didn't apologise it wouldn't be resolved, I had stashed myself way in their dorm room after my lessons so that when they got back from their lessons I would be there and I could bite back my stubbornness and say I was sorry to my boyfriends. I had planted myself in the middle of Remus' bed with my books around me, completing homework, so that I would be the first thing he saw when he walked in which meant he couldn't avoid me. I had changed out of my uniform shirt and gown into one of his shirts and the bottom half of my uniform to be more comfortable and mostly so I could smell him around me.
Just as I had predicted, Moony walked in first, laughing alongside Sirius, until his gaze fell upon mine and then the laughing stopped much to my disappointment; I loved the sound of his laugh. He walked over to his bed, placing his things on the bedside table before I caught his attention by holding my arms out for a hug. I knew he wouldn't deny me a hug even though he was mad. I wrapped my arms around him and cuddled into his neck, guilt setting in again when he kissed my cheek.
"How was your day Poppet?" I peeked over Remmy's shoulder at Siri, giving him a small, unsure smile.
"Boring and tiring, my head feels frazzled," I muttered, pouting slightly. Remus released me from the hug and continued to put all his things away, changing into sweatpants and a cardigan as he went. I watched with sad eyes as they flickered between the two marauders. I was staring at my hands in my lap as Remus came and sat on his bed, book in hand, and rested on the headboard. I crawled over to him, biting my lip unsurely before sitting beside him and waiting for him to look up.
"What do you need?" He raised an eyebrow but didn't look up, his voice was flat and void of emotion. I had really upset him this time. "You just gonna sit there watching hmm?" I shook my head and lifted up his chin so he would look at me.
"I wanted to say sorry Moony, I shouldn't have spoken to you like that and I know it was wrong." His eyes observed me the whole time as I fought the tremble of my lip. "I didn't mean what I said and I won't do it again. I know you're jus' trying to look after me." I played with his fingers as I spoke, a nervous feeling running through me at the thought of him not accepting the apology and hating me.
"Thank you for apologising Bun, I'm glad that you recognised your mistake and were able to be brave about it. I just care about you is all and I don't want you making yourself ill over work. Next time just listen if I advise you on something okay?" He soothed, his hand squeezing mine as I nodded at him. "Good." I smiled slightly, looking up at him. I knew this wouldn't be all, after all, I was due a punishment and was happy to take it, I had behaved badly after all.
"Y/N come on Poppet, the sooner this is over the sooner you can cuddle and rest." Sirius beckoned me over but not before Remus gave me a quick kiss on the lips, making me smile against him. I stood in front of Sirius as he made himself comfortable on the big armchair, my hands crossed in front of my lap. "Strip to your underwear Poppet." I did as I was told, not wanting to get in any more trouble but left my socks on to keep my toes warm. He nodded as I did and folded my uniform onto the chest at the end of his bed. Within seconds I was back in front of him and he had his hands on my hips. "Now, you know you have to be punished for your behaviour s'be a good Puppy and take what you're given, okay?" I let my eyes glance to Remmy on his bed who sat reading his book, letting Sirius get on with the task at hand. Siri began to pull me closer to him, so he could lay me across his lap but before he could I planted my feet firmly on the ground. The look of annoyance on his face unnerved me, making Remus look up at my defiance but I pouted at him sadly.
"Remmy, I'm sorry," I whispered, "Siri kisses?" My eyebrows furrowed as I bit my lip and tangled my fingers together.
"Of course Poppet." A grin spread on his face as he pulled me in for a kiss, being gentle and comforting as he brushed my hair behind my ear. He knew how on-edge punishments got me and was typically gentle unless he was in a terrorising kind of mood. "Now do as you're told and lay across m'lap, don't want more punishment than is needed do we?" The question was rhetorical and a warning at the same time so I wrapped my arms around his leg whilst I laid myself on his legs, face down.
I braced myself for the first swat as he rubbed my butt, running his fingers over my pale skin which we both knew wouldn't last long. My body tensed as his hand was removed and came down on my flesh with a crack. It wasn't the worst I'd had off him but I knew it would feel worse once my skin started to welt and become more sensitive. The second one came quickly after and I winced at the feeling, shifting uncomfortably until his free hand came to rest on my back, both comforting me and holding me still. I became more sensitive every time his hand came into contact with my ass, after trying to keep my eyes open the tears began to sting them and I squeezed them shut as I whimpered and winced at the pain, my body jolting with each hit.
It felt like I had laid there for hours as each swat followed on from the next, alternating between each side and different areas so it didn't do too much damage. My whimpers soon turned into little cries and then into full-grown sobs which I huffed out, gripping the material of Sirius' trousers as tears spilt over my cheeks and onto the fabric. I had given up wriggling around and trying to stay quiet, knowing it was pointless as my skin seared. Broken sobs filled the room as the spanking came to an end, leaving me with a welted ass, tear streaks everywhere and laboured breathing. Once he had finished, Sirius leaned down and pressed a small kiss to my sore skin, rubbing his thumb over my back in comfort.
"Okay, Poppet, all done now." He sat me up gently so my legs were on either side of his body, smiling at me as I whined when my skin pressed against his trouser material. There was the terrorising side of him, amused by my discomfort.
"All done?" I whimpered, rubbing my eyes as I hiccuped out more sobs.
"Yes Poppet, all done. You took it so well, like a good puppy." I nodded and fell forward onto his chest with a small huff in exhaustion as he soothed me. My hands shook as they curled into his hair, playing with the strands whilst Remmy wandered around the room to find something. I struggled to keep my eyes open as tiredness and headspace set in making me feel fuzzy and soft.
"Bunny, you have to let us put some cream on before you sleep, where do you want to lie." Remus appeared in front of me with a concerned look on his face. I opened my eyes as wide as I could, pouting at his statement but sitting up slowly. I tried to ignore the soreness of my skin as I did but the way the material rubbed against it made the tears appear once more. With an accompanying cry, I held my arms up at the lycanthrope, making grabby hands as he cooed at me. "Okay Bunny, I've got you little one." He recognised the signs of subspace and picked me up, holding me to his chest as I wrapped my legs around him. The two walked over to Remus' bed and sat down with me lying on Moony's chest so my backside was accessible. "Y'gonna let Pads put some aloe on Bunny, it'll help with the pain." I nodded, remembering the reason I had gotten myself into this mess and scooting up Remmy's chest to rest my head in the crook of his neck for my own comfort.
I hissed as the cold cream came into contact with my hot skin, soothing the red, hand-print-shaped welts as I tightened my grip on my Dom. Once in a while, a whimper escaped my throat and a kiss was pressed to my head or the small of my back as they both soothed me. The cream had been applied generously before they manoeuvred me into a loose pair of their boxers and left on Remmy's shirt. I clambered back onto Moony's lap and nuzzled into his chest, drawing patterns on his cardigan as he petted my head sweetly.
"You did so good for Pads today Bun, I'm so proud of you." His coos filled me with happiness and I sighed in relief.
"I thought y'both wouldn't want me anymore 'cause of the way I spoke to you Remmy," I muttered into his chest, fingers tightening in the material of his cardigan. "You do still want me right?"
"Hey little one, of course, we do, we'll always want you Y/N, a bit of bad behaviour because you've got a lot going on isn't going to change that." He lifted my head so I could look into his eyes as he spoke and I nodded, biting my lip. Sirius came to join us on the bed and sat beside Remmy leaning against the headboard.
"Don't ever think we don't want you Poppet," He chipped in, "We know it's difficult for you and sometimes you need something to help you relax or put you back in your place. There are times when you're gonna lash out but that doesn't mean we'll ever not want you." I giggled as he tickled my ribs gently, rolling his eyes playfully at Remus' warning look as if to tell him not to get me wound up when I needed to rest.
"Come on now Bunny, settle down and get some rest." Remmy laid me between the both when he noticed me rubbing my eyes with balled-up fists, yawning as my body started to shut down. I cuddled into Remus' side as I burrowed between them both, too tired to care about my skin rubbing against the material of the boxers lightly.
Night Remmy, Night Siri," I mumbled with closed eyes, smiling as a blanket was pulled over me and Sirius cuddled me from behind, careful of my butt. "Love you both so much."
"Goodnight Bunny." Remus soothed, kissing my head.
"We love you too, Poppet," Sirius added, kissing my shoulder.
And with that, I fell into the best sleep I'd had in the past week, glad I'd made up with the two most important people in my life.
#wizarding world x reader#wizarding world imagines#wizarding world#remus lupin#remus lupin x reader#brat!reader#sub!reader#dom!remus lupin#sirius black#sirius black x reader#dom!sirius black
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did you miss me?
FANDOM: Call of Duty: Modern Warfare II/III (Reboot)
PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley / John 'Soap' MacTavish (SoapGhost)
WORD COUNT: 870 words
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Thinking about Soap and Ghost who constantly greet each other by asking “Did you miss me?”
It started off small.
The phrase first spoken whenever Soap joined Ghost for breakfast at their usual booth. Every morning he’d slide in on the same side, knocking knees with the other man as they squished together despite the empty bench on the other side.
“Did you miss me?” Soap would ask, even though they had only spent a night’s rest apart. Even though the previous day was spent entirely in one another’s company.
Ghost was no better, using the phrase whenever he entered a room - regardless of how long it had been since he had left it. How could he not, when Soap would always perk up at his return each time?
It didn't matter if he left for a few minutes to use the bathroom, or to grab paperwork from his office, or what. Without fail, he’d always slot himself back at Soap’s side, a hidden smirk pulling at his lips.
“Miss me, Johnny?”
Neither knew exactly how it started. If it was meant to be a joke or if a sincere question hid beneath those words.
Honestly, it took surprisingly little before it became second nature. The question was their thing. And the more they used it, the more its meaning grew.
When the 141 were wrapping up a week long mission- one where they all ended up split between the supporting units- it was Ghost who pushed through the sea of soldiers until he was at Soap’s side again. Eyes raking over the man’s mud-stained gear for any signs of a wound in his absence.
“ ‘d you miss me, sergeant?” Ghost asked. His tone made it seem like just another question asked by the superior, though it didn’t stop the underlying check-in from coming through.
Are you hurt?
And despite the fact they weren’t yet on safe soil, still locked into their commanding roles, the tension visibly released from both of their shoulders at the realization that they had made it to exfil safe.
“Don’t think there was enough time for that, sir,” Soap quipped without missing a beat.
I’m solid, now.
When the team was sent on mandatory leave– most of them returning to their families for the duration– it was Soap who constantly checked on Ghost. Knowing that the man would have chosen to spend their break back on base.
Somehow, he seemed to constantly run into things that reminded him of his lieutenant, and never hesitated to call him about it. Each time, the phone would only ring once before Ghost answered. As if he was waiting for their daily chat.
Right before he’d dive into a story about a ghost-themed trinket he saw, or a new restaurant he tried, or an animal he ran into, Soap would always start by asking–
“Miss me yet?” His singsong voice never failing to get a chuckle out of Ghost.
Is everything alright?
“You’re the one that can’t seem to stay away,” the man would respond on the other side of the line. Despite knowing that he was about to happily listen for hours as Soap updated him about his day.
Thank you for checking in on me.
Again, and again, and again they fell into the familiar cycle of always checking in with each other. Always coming up with a reason. There was nothing ever official between them, but it served as reassurance and comfort all the same. The care that they showed one another was just so clear.
Things finally progressed when the two of them were sent on back to back solo ops, forced to go months without seeing each other.
Soap barely waited for the helo to touch down before finding his way to Ghost’s door. It was late, and he knew his arrival wouldn’t have been shared with the team yet, but that didn’t stop him from knocking anyway.
The door opened by the third tap, revealing a surprised Brit on the other side. There were clear bags under his eyes, and curls poking out from his mask that was haphazardly thrown on. No doubt having been woken from deep sleep.
But it didn’t stop Ghost’s expression from softening as he wordlessly stepped aside, letting Soap into his space before shuffling back to bed. He trusted Soap enough to not need to keep an eye on him as he did whatever he came for.
When he felt the bed dip minutes later, rolling over to accommodate Soap after his gear was removed, Ghost simply threw an arm over the other man. It was the first time they had shared a bed, but the milestone felt nothing but natural.
As they held each other tightly, making up for their time spent separated, Ghost mumbled fondly into the darkness-
“I missed you.”
And the body that curled around him whispered just as sweet, “I missed you too.”
#scar's soapghost fics#cod#call of duty#mw2#mwii#simon ghost riley#john soap mactavish#simon riley x john mactavish#soapghost#ghostsoap#mw2 2022#ghost mw2#soap mw2#modern warfare 2#call of duty mw2#cod mw2#cod mwii#cod fic#call of duty fanfiction#had a few paragraphs about their wedding too but thought it felt right to clip it here instead (:#BUT just know that when Ghost walks down the aisle and is reunited with Soap he asks “Did you miss me sweetheart?"
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You know I have no choice (JJ Maybank x Kook!Reader)
synopsis: You love him more than anything or anyone, but no matter how much you wish you could stay with him, it can never be. Not like this.
warnings: angst, break up, mentions of weed, mentions of difficult relationship with parents, afab reader
word count: 1.6k
taglist: @hopelesswritergall
(If you want to be tagged for a specific character/fandom or in general let me know in my asks, comments or DMs)
A/N: Thank you @valeskafics for making me cave and finally start watching obx, simply by posting your Rafe stories. I love you babes!💜
Dividers by @saradika-graphics
It had been the longest week in your life, you think as you plop down on your bed after coming home after a very tense dinner with your parents. Not that things had been any different ever. Especially after they had found out your friends were poor, because God forbid you had friends you liked. Everything sure did a turn for the worse when your mother found the smallest amount of weed and the pill, as well as some condoms hidden away in one of your drawers. What followed was a catastrophic afternoon that ended in you being grounded like a small child “Until you learned to behave and found friends that were fitting of your social standing.” Your fathers’ words not yours, obviously.
´I miss you so much. It´s so boring here without you and the others around.´ Your fingers fly over the keyboard of your phone to send a message to JJ. He had snuck into your room every day for the past week, but it just wasn´t the same as hanging out with him, Kie, Pope and John B all day doing whatever.
´I miss you too, pretty girl. It´s not the same without you here.´ Came his answer in a matter of seconds. Making you wonder once again how he could answer you so fast every time, yet loving it nonetheless.
´Are you coming by again later?´ You ask him hopefully, though the answer was already clear.
´Wouldn´t let you go to bed without a good night kiss, would I? You chuckle at the text, practically being able to hear him say the words in that teasing way only JJ could.
´I´m already counting the minutes.´ You add a mouth emoji before sending the text, biting your lower lip at the thought of laying in JJ´s arms, even if it was only for a couple of hours. Ever since you couldn´t hang out every day anymore your body began to crave his touch like nothing else and without the chance to always have at least one of his arms around you… it would be a lie to say it wasn´t becoming a problem.
With a huff you turn around in your bed, to face the window, with no idea what to do to kill the time until your parents went to bed fastest.
In the end you settle for mindlessly scrolling on your phone. A state that is broken by a few pebbles hitting your window. Finally. He was here. You open the window and watch the messy blond hair of JJ appear in it, seconds before the golden retriever of a person lands in your room.
“Jayj…” You whisper and fall into his already open arms, hugging him as tightly to you as humanly possible.
“Hey, pretty girl.” JJ rasps in your ear and kisses the crown of your head.
Without leaving his grasp for even a second, you manoeuvre the two of you over to lay back down on the mattress and bury your face in the space where his shoulder and neck met.
“I missed you so so much. You have no idea.” Your words are muffled by the pale skin.
“I might.” The blond chuckles lightly.
“You have to promise that you´ll never leave me alone again. Not even for one second.” You are dead serious in your words, even thought that could never come true as long as you lived with your parents.
“I promise, doll.” The air that releases from his lungs as he makes the impossible promise moves hair that is mussed on the top of your head from cuddling so close.
You fall into a comfortable silence. However, the peaceful moment between the two of you doesn´t last much longer than that. Your parents must have been awake still or somehow you were too loud and woke them up. You can´t explain how it happened, but only moments later the door to your room bursts open to them staring daggers into the two of you.
You don´t have to look up to know that you are royally fucked. Yet you are still surprised by how truly fucked you were. What you had thought they would give you as a punishment was more grounding and their usual bullshit about how the pogues weren´t the right people to associate yourself with. Well, at least you´re only half wrong about that one. Your mother pulls you out of bed and away from JJ, downstairs to the living room, but even from there your voices get transferred upstairs to a very confused and quite frankly scared JJ. And though he doesn´t understand every single word that is being said, the blond knows there would be nothing good coming out of this.
Downstairs you have a hard time fighting the scalding hot tears that burn in your eyes, sitting across your parents with crossed arms and a restlessly bouncing leg as they go on and on about your poor choice in company for the thousandth time. This time something is different though. You feel it before they say it and then your mother makes the outrageous demand.
“You will break up with that boy now and you won´t ever see any of them again!”
“Or what?” You yell back at her. “What do you want to do? I´m old enough to decide who I want to be friends with on my own.”
“You may think you are old enough, but you know nothing of the world. So, either you do as we say or you are no longer a child of ours. Do you understand me young lady?” Your mother´s words are a kind of cold that sends a shiver down your spine. She and your father look at you like they never have, and it hurts like a knife to the heart. Your mother raises a questioning eyebrow at you, waiting for an answer of any kind. Either decision would seal your fate to a path of hurt and unluckily for JJ, your parents were years of manipulation ahead of his positive influence.
“Can I at least do it outside, in private?” You sigh, reverting your eyes to the ground as you give in to the outrageous demand. A stoic nod of the head was your only indication that your request was granted.
Leading JJ outside by his hands and sitting down with him on the step to the front porch, has your stomach swirling with something akin to the feeling of leading a beloved dog into the yard to throw it´s ball one last time as a distraction before having to shoot it. Like in the movies.
His large hands holding yours feel so bittersweet and you don´t even dare to look into his eyes in fear of what would come from it. It feels like eternity that you struggle to find words that would hopefully hurt him the least, but in the end, you just blurt out a weak “I´m sorry, Jayj.”
The first tears spill over as you do so, burning their way down your cheeks.
“Don´t say you´re sorry, please. Nothing good ever comes after I´m sorry.” JJ´s own tearful voice quietly rings through the night.
You lean your forehead against his, like you so often had before, feeling him near for probably the last time ever.
“Please don´t make this harder than it already is. You know I have no choice.” Your voice breaks miserably as you try to hold yourself together as much as possible. An intention that fails just as miserably as your voice does, when he cups your burning cheeks in his warm hands.
“We can make it work. We always made it work so far.” JJ tries to bargain. Placing little, pleading pecks to your lips and all over your face in the hopes of changing your mind.
“How could we possibly? We got lucky with how things turned out this time. I don´t want to know what would happen the next time we get caught.” You hold onto his face too now. Daring to look up into his wet puppy eyes and your heart breaks into a million little pieces.
“But… I love you, pretty girl…” With every word exchanged between the two of you, the grip on each other’s face turns more desperate. Eager to ingrain the feeling of the other into your mind. Every little detail about the other every little feeling you felt while you held each other, even if it had turned bitter now. Even if you hated yourself more than ever for doing this.
“I love you too, Jayj. I will always love you, nothing and no one will ever change that. But I… I just can´t keep doing this to you. You deserve better than to be forced to sneak around and only have a few limited moments. You deserve everything. You deserve the world and I just can´t give that to you like this.” As much as JJ wants to beg and bargain with you, he knows that you are right. As long as you were in this situation, there would be no way for you two to be together in peace. And it wasn´t fair, but when was life ever.
The two of you are silent as you let the harsh reality set in. The sounds of your sobbing and the occasional car driving past are the only sounds around you two and for the fist time since you had met the blond, time seems to fly in his presence. There was no longer a bubble shielding you from the world around, only harsh reality all around you caving in steadily and robbing you of your last breath.
In the end there is nothing left to do, but to share one last kiss. One last lingering proclamation of love to seal your betrayal to the one person that truly loved you and the only person you would ever love. You don´t even get granted the relief of all-encompassing numbness as JJ slips from your touch.
#jj maybank#jj maybank obx#jj maybank x reader#jj maybank x kook!reader#jj maybank x you#outer banks#obx
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Timezones | JJK
Pairing: Jungkook x Reader (Gender Neutral)
Genre: a little angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, established relationship, Non-Idol!AU
Rating: T
Warnings: mentions of illness (not specified), mentions of ill parent, a very soft Jungkook and reader dealing with sudden long distance, special guest appearance by Bam, yes there is a noraebang and fried chicken because last week's lives honestly felt like something a fanfic writer wrote, sorry if this makes you sad but I needed to write it
Word Count: 1.4K
Disclaimers: Obviously I don’t own BTS - they just inspire me
Summary: Only thing that keeps us apart / Is a different timezone
A/N: I'm never getting over Jungkook's lives from last week. The absolute boyfriend vibes, combined with me listening to "Timezones" by Måneskin today, led me to write this. Thank you @sugalaritae for lending me your talented eyes!
I didn't specify what country reader is meant to be from, just that their family at one point while they were a child lived several time zones from where they lives now, long enough for them to think of it as their childhood home.
There are some things going on in my life that have inspired some of the plot, so… I hope when the time comes that you have to deal with such things, you have someone like Jungkook here to support you. It makes all the difference in the world. 💕
The notification comes in at a little past noon. You stare at it for a second before tapping the screen. A familiar pair of brown eyes come into frame, blinking slowly beneath a cloud of dark fluffy hair.
"Koo? Why are you awake?"
"Hi, baby," Jungkook grins, deflecting your question with the sweetness of his smile. His head rests on his tattooed forearm as he gazes at you. "Miss you."
The words make you sigh, releasing a tension you didn't even realize you were holding. Carrying your phone into your bedroom, you sink down onto the mattress of your childhood bed. "I miss you, too."
It's been over a week since you said goodbye at the airport. Eight days, six hours, and thirteen minutes, to be precise. Every tick of the clock sends that number higher and higher.
"I was just thinking about you. Wanted to check in. How're you feeling?"
You shrug, burrowing deeper into the pillows. "I'm okay. Woke up late. Just killing some time before the appointment this afternoon."
He hums, nodding. Your boyfriend opens his mouth and then closes it again. You know what he wants to say, but he doesn't need to. You know he'd be here with you if he could.
This trip came up unexpectedly. But that's how it always goes when a parent gets sick. Everything's fine until it's not. It was easy enough for you to drop everything and fly halfway around the world, but Jungkook's just starting his career now, after a long period of false starts and dead ends. He didn't have the time banked and you weren't about to ask him to give up his job to come home with you.
Home. There's that word again. It's disorienting, being back in the place where you grew up, and feeling like you're somewhere new. So little has changed here, yet it feels completely unfamiliar. Home is now several time zones away.
Home is where he is.
Jungkook's voice pulls you back to the tiny device in your hand. "What time is it there?"
"Just past noon." You don't ask him what time it is, fully aware that it's the middle of the night there. "Why are you still up?"
"Eh, got home a while ago from drinks with Jin-hyung and was hungry, so I got fried chicken. Now I'm too full to sleep."
You give him a look. "How many times do I have to tell you, you can put some of that in the fridge? You don't need to eat it all in one sitting!"
Jungkook scrunches his nose in delight at your reaction. "I know I don't need to. I want to."
You just roll your eyes in defeat. It's not a new topic of discussion. Your boyfriend has a big appetite.
There's a gentle clicking sound from offscreen, nails tapping on hardwood, and then a big brown nose pops into frame as Bam puts his head on his dad's arm, wanting to know what he's looking at. Bam's technically your dog, too, since the two of you adopted him when you'd moved in together three months ago, but you're not a fool. He's Jungkook's baby.
"Bammy!" you coo, and Jungkook tilts the phone so Bam can see your face. His tail whips Jungkook's side in his frenzy. "Hi Bammy, I miss you!"
"Bam's been such a good boy, keeping me company while you're gone, haven't you?"
Jungkook buries his nose in Bam's face while planting kisses on the dog's snout, and you laugh when he sniffs the dog. Someone else might find it weird, but you're used to his sensitive nose. He's always sliding up behind you in the kitchen or bathroom and pressing his face against the back of your neck to inhale deeply. You stopped wearing perfume at his request, when he told you how much he loves your natural scent.
Right now, you'd give anything to feel his arms around you and hear that little snff snff up close. Your sigh is a little louder than you intend, because it draws Jungkook's focus away from his dog.
"You okay, baby?"
"I am. Really. I should… I should probably eat something." Food always helps. It's one of the things your father taught you. "Keep me company while I make lunch?"
Jungkook grins again, twirling something in his hand. "How about I do you one better?" he asks, and you realize he's holding his karaoke mic, and likely has been this whole time, just waiting for the perfect moment to reveal it. "Any requests?"
As you warm up your leftover takeout, Jungkook serenades you with a selection of your favorite songs. He incorporates little bits of choreo in some of the performances, like the risqué moves he does while crooning "Unholy" that make you choke on your rice. As always, his sweet tenor makes your heart flutter while he effortlessly riffs his way through a private little noraebang, just for you.
When your lunch is done, you sit in your father's old armchair, tucking your legs up on the sagging cushion. Jungkook's eyes are closed as he sings, and you know he's lost in the music. It's one of the things you love most about him, the way he gives his all to whatever he's doing. No matter what it is, he's always committed. Devoted.
You're so lucky to have him.
"Koo," you finally say when he pauses to pour himself a beer. "Baby. It's so late there. As much as I'm loving this concert, you should get some sleep." As a graphic designer, he works from home, so he doesn't have to wake early for a commute, but he's still human. He still needs sleep.
He fiddles with his frosted mug, pushing it back and forth on the table by where his phone is propped. "I know. I just… I don't like sleeping in our bed without you. It doesn't feel right." He frowns, dark brows knitting together in a look of anguish. "It doesn't feel like home when you're not here."
The last bit of tightness in your muscles dissipates as you melt at the heartache in his voice. "Oh, babe, I wish I could be home with you right now. Take you to bed, wrap my arms around you, and cuddle you to sleep."
"I wish you were here, too." The stars in his eyes seem dimmed by the sadness that hangs there. "And I'm - I'm sorry that I couldn't be ther-"
"I know, babe. I know." He falls silent at your gentle interruption. You've never hated the miles between you more than this very moment, wishing you could hold him close. Knowing he feels the same. "But this, you calling me like this to check in on me, singing to me - this means so much."
"Be better if I could hold you."
"Mmm. True." You smile playfully, chest warming when he smiles back just a little. "But don't worry. Even though you're there and I'm here, I still - I still feel your love." Of the two of you, he's the crier. But you find yourself swallowing thickly around your words. "So thank you."
Jungkook nods, letting his chin fall to his forearm again. "I'm always here, baby, any time you need some love. Time zones can't keep us apart."
"I know." You mirror Jungkook's position, watching his eyelashes flutter as exhaustion finally seems to hit him. "I love you, Koo."
"Love you too. Let me know how the appointment goes."
He yawns, and in the corner of the screen you see Bam curling up next to him on the couch. As soon as you end the call, you know they're going to fall asleep right there together.
"I will. Go get some sleep, babe."
He murmurs something that sounds like a very sleepy goodnight, and then the call disconnects. The screen fades to black, but in your mind you still see his soft smile.
Stretching, you peel yourself out of your father's chair. The appointment you have today is the one you've been dreading, but you'll be okay. In just a few more days, you'll be back home.
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© 2023 by minisugakoobies. Crossposted to AO3. Please do not copy or repost.
#jungkook x you#jungkook x reader#jeon jungkook x you#jeon jungkook x reader#jungkook fanfic#jeon jungkook fanfic#bts fanfic#bangtanarmynet#thebtswritersclub#btscarnivalnet#bangtanoasis#btshoneyhive#possumswrite#fic: timezones#jungkook fluff#bts fluff#jungkook oneshot#diverseinsertknet
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World Cup (Gavi)
Summary: Gavi is selected for the national team and you’re there to celebrate with him.
Warning(s): None
A/N: Please send in any requests if you have any.
Word Count: [1193]
You rushed out of your car, knocking on the door urgently.
“Y/n. Hello dear, come in!” Gavi’s mother ushered you inside.
“Hi, did I miss it?” You asked nervously.
Today was the day that Gavi would find out if he got selected for the World Cup team, and you had promised him that whatever the decision, you would be there to support him. You knew that it was an honor to play for your country and that he wanted it more than anything, it was all he had dreamed about since he first kicked a football.
You had been stuck in an exam for the past two hours and had just been released, rushing over right away. Originally, your exam had been scheduled for three hours prior but due to a plumbing issue in the building where the test was supposed to be, they had to push it back an hour, leaving you with barely enough time to finish the exam and drive to Gavi’s.
“You just made it, we’re working on setting up the broadcast. Gavi’s upstairs.” She spoke.
You thanked her before hurrying up the stairs.
You knocked on the door and heard his voice through the door.
“I’ll be done soon, just give me a minute.”
“It’s Y/n.” You spoke.
You heard shuffling, and a second later the door opened to reveal a very stressed-out Gavi.
“I thought you weren’t coming.”
You instantly felt the guilt wash over you, “I’m so sorry there was an issue with my exam, and it got pushed back, so I barely had time to make it here.”
He pulled you into his room, sitting on the bed, “That’s fine. Thanks for coming, I’m glad you’re here.”
You smiled, sitting next to him, grabbing his hand that was playing with his hoodie string, “No problem. I got you.”
You both fell into silence until you noticed him biting the inside of his cheek and furrowing his brows excessively.
You leaned over, placing your arm over his shoulders, “Hey, everything’s going to be okay. You’re already so talented, and no one can take that away from you. Plus, you’re only eighteen and you already have such a bright future ahead of you.”
He leaned into your touch, “I guess. I’ve just wanted this for as long as I can remember, and I feel like I worked hard, but I don’t know, what if it’s not enough?”
“Mmm, yah I didn’t think of that, you’re probably right.” You nodded, agreeing with him.
Gavi pulled away from you looking almost offended.
You laughed, “I’m just kidding obviously. Your family loves you, and I do too, regardless of what happens. You’ve done everything right. It’s out of your hands now.”
“But what about Spain, what if they don’t love me?” He questioned.
“Well, if you don’t have haters, have you really even achieved anything?”
He contemplated your words, “That’s kinda deep.”
You smiled sweetly, “I know. Now c’mon, your mom said she almost had the broadcast set up.”
You followed him out of the room and walked downstairs.
Almost everyone was in the living room, crowded onto the couch, as they counted down the minutes till the program started.
You stood by the doorway and watched as they all moved to accommodate Gavi, making him sit in the middle of the couch as they reached over to reassure him.
You knew that even if he didn’t get picked today it would be okay because he had such a great support system, and people who would love him regardless of what happened.
He looked up at you, motioning for you to join him, scooting over to make space for you between him and his mother.
You felt bad separating him from his family, wanting them to be able to celebrate together if he got picked, so you opted to sit on the floor in front of the couch, resting against Gavi’s legs.
“Sit up here.” He urged.
You waved him off, letting him know you were fine on the floor.
Aurora came to join you a few seconds later, and the broadcast officially began.
You felt Gavi reach down and grab your hand as the news reporters started speaking, placing it on his knee.
He gave your hand a squeeze, and you gave a quick squeeze back.
It was time.
The announcers began by talking about different theories and tactics before the official selection announcements began.
You all sat silently with labored breaths as you heard the first national team player be announced.
There was a round of cheers when Pedri’s name was called up.
The draft continued and soon there were only around ten spots left to be selected.
You felt yourself growing nervous; you couldn’t imagine how Gavi felt. He had an immense pressure on him, and you couldn’t fathom how he was able to handle it all.
You looked up at him and watched as he chewed on his bottom lip, sitting on the edge of his seat, nerves on full display.
You felt his hand squeeze your hand again, not being able to control his anxiety, and you have him an equally hard squeeze back, letting him know that it would be okay.
You began to pray that he would get chosen, you knew that he deserved it and that he would do amazing things if he got the chance.
You stared intently at the screen, your heart thudding against your chest.
“The player selected for number nine for the national team is, Pablo Gavira.”
Immediately, cheers and screams erupted around you. You were smiling so wide it hurt, clapping your hands, cheering along.
You reached over to hug Aurora, the both of you ecstatic for him.
You got up, seeing him being hugged and showered with praise from his parents.
You saw him break apart with a huge smile on his face, his eyes shimmering with happiness.
He looked over at you and his smile mirrored your own.
Before you knew it, he had picked you up, spinning you around in excitement.
You let out a loud laugh, squealing as he kept spinning.
He had one arm wrapped around you, the other making a fist in the air as he celebrated.
He gently put you down and you grabbed him by the shoulders, shaking him, unable to hide your excitement, “Congratulations! You deserve it so much. I knew you could do it!”
You pulled him into a hug, squeezing his body, the pure joy radiating from him immensely lifting your mood.
“What was the pep talk for before then?” He questioned once you broke apart.
You rolled your eyes playfully, “Oh that, I just had to make sure you didn’t get too cocky. But I guess that’s out the window now.”
He grinned looking down at you, “Don’t worry amor, I’ll stay humble. Just for you.”
You snorted, not even bothering to reply as you saw him become swarmed by his family and friends, all wanting to congratulate him.
Yep, he definitely was going to let it get to his head, but you just had to make sure you were there to knock him down a peg every so often.
#gavi#gavi imagine#pablo gavi#pablogavi#pablo gavi imagine#gavi imagines#gavi headcannon#gavi blurb#gavi oneshot#fc barca#spain#fc barcelona#pedri one shot#pedri imagine#pedri#Pedro Gonzalez#footballer imagine#footballer fluff#gavi fluff#gavi angst#footballer#footballer x reader#gavi x reader
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Skin Deep - Part 4
Pairing: Josh Kiszka x f!reader, Jake Kiszka x f!reader
Word count: 12.1k (I know, I know. I can’t help myself, okay??)
A/N: Feeding the Jake girlies with this one as promised! I’ve been chipping away and sitting on this chapter for a minute, and I’m a little nervous about it. I hope y’all enjoy ❤️
Patience, feedback, love and support is always appreciated from you guys
Always a overwhelming thank you to Ness and Hannah for helping me out with this chapter
Warnings: cursing, drug use (marijuana), sexually explicit content 18+/ MINORS DNI (unprotected penetrative sex, oral f!receiving, oral m!receiving, bondage/restraints, toys, overstimulation, voyeurism/exhibitionism, if I missed something let me know)
Masterpost
Skin Deep Playlist
You’re in that state between sleep and consciousness, still tethered to the dream world while having your ear open to your surroundings. You had dozed off about an hour or so ago when Josh left you cuddled up on the couch to run errands. The TV was on, filling the room with the soft hum of commercials playing between an indiscernible show in the background.
At least, you think you’re aware until the warm heaviness of a blanketing breath wrapping around your ear startles you. “Hello, dove.”
You stir, but not enough to wake fully. Another deep exhale tickles your skin, making the tiny hairs on your neck stand as goosebumps rising on the surface of your skin. Calloused fingertips brush across your temple to tuck the hair away as he whispers, “Was getting worried that I wasn’t going to see you again.”
He hums to himself, lips pressing up against the shell of your ear as if he’s about to taste his favorite meal. The tip of his finger traces along your jawline and down the center of your throat, passing over the hollow point.
As he’s slowly dragging you out of slumber, you’re becoming more aware of his presence. The weight of his body sinking into the couch cushion beside you, the warmth radiating off his skin, the layered scent of his cologne basking in your senses.
He breathes you in, pressing his nose into the softness of your cheek while leaving a gentle nip of the skin in its wake. You squirm at the sting, craning your neck into the couch cushion beneath you with an exaggerated stretch. He takes advantage of the exposed flesh, attaching his lips to the pulse point tucked below your ear.
He buries his face there, tickling your bare skin with the ends of his long hair. Fingertips dance along your collarbones peeking out above the neckline of your dress just as he litters your open throat with kisses. He parts his mouth to taste you, trailing his tongue through each one, which only teases you with its intoxicating warmth.
You reach out blindly, wrapping your hand around his upper arm that’s been balancing his weight above you. You release a heavy sigh as you feel the lean muscles of his bicep flex under your touch, making him smile against your flushed skin.
The added sensation of his thumb rubbing across your hardening nipple through the thin fabric of your dress is what makes you finally peel your eyes open. You find that the sun has set during your evening nap, so the only light filling the living room is the tableside lamp behind you and the flashing images of the t.v.
It takes a few seconds for your vision to come into focus, and to realize that he’s not a figment of your imagination. He’s real, hovering over you with the annoyingly smug grin plastered across his face — smiling enough that the hidden dimple he shares with Josh makes a fleeting appearance. You stare in awe, speechless as you absorb the yellow glow of the lamp that’s casting long shadows over the sharper features of his face. You dart between his eyes, noticing the golden flecked within the amber irises, a small detail that that would otherwise be lost during the day.
“Jake? What are you doing here?” You’re fighting through the grogginess weighing you down, so the question is blurted out before you take the time to process the words.
His brow flicks up as he chuckles softly, sending the sound of his raspy laughter into every crevice of your brain, like the enchanting crackle of a fireplace, while continuing to admire you, “Well, I do live here, dovey.” Before you have the chance to feel embarrassed, he lifts his hand from your chest to brush the backs of his fingers across your blushing cheek. “I think I should be the one to ask you the same thing.”
The path he leaves across your face feels like it’s been set on fire, the surface of your skin burning hot from the gentle touch. You swallow back an answer, watching as his hand trails down your chest.
He’s testing the waters when he grasps the plush throw draped across your stomach, asking with a certain air of confidence that’s more than familiar for him, “May I take a look at how my work is healing?”
You hum your answer with a quick nod, allowing him to pull back the blanket from your legs. Your dress has ridden up your thighs during your nap, revealing most of the tattoo.
He adjusts his position on the cushion so he can get a proper view, tracing over the healed linework now that the pain has subsided. Despite doing a decent job at keeping the skin moisturized throughout the past week, you’ve started the peeling process. He doesn’t seem concerned, but rather pleased with how it looks, given the small smile that’s peeking through his stoic expression.
He shifts into you a bit more, slipping his hand between your legs with a purposeful roll of his strong fingers. He massages the soft skin, daring the touch closer and closer to your core. Desire churns within you, making you forget pretty much anything of importance as you lift your hips up to chase the feeling.
Once his fingers brush along the fabric of your panties, he crawls across your body so his knees are slotted between your open legs. His panting breath is heavy and lustful, coating your cheek with every deep exhale.
It hadn’t even been a few hours since you had fooled around with Josh, so what was left from that was sure to still be there between your legs. The rush you’re feeling has clouded your judgment, so you only think to warn him when his hand slips under the band of your panties, and it’s a rather weak protest at that. “Jake, wait—“
Even if you really don’t want him to, his fingers stop moving as soon as he hears those words. You bask in the moment of silence with him, feeling the sharp edge of his teeth against the pulse point of your neck. “You want me to stop?”
A spell of dryness plagues your tongue, making you wet it through a harsh swallow as you find the right words, but the way his erection is pressing against your thigh makes it nearly impossible to do so. You can only shake your head to answer as you claw at the shirt covering his back.
He’s feeding off your neediness, groaning from the feeling of your nails raking across the material of his t-shirt. Before you can utter the warning, his hand dips lower in your underwear and past the point of no return. You’ve missed the chance, as it’s too late by the time your hand finds his wrist. His fingers have already slipped through the slick mess that Josh had given you not hours prior. It takes him a few seconds to realize it, and once it clicks in his head, he stops moving his fingers entirely.
“Jake…” you whisper, responding to the instant shift of tension locking in his body.
He lifts his head just enough for you to see the tight muscles of his jaw clench as he rolls his fingertips over your clit between your clenched thighs. You lay frozen in silence, like a stunned rabbit in a field as you watch his eyes darken when he stares back at you.
When he speaks, his voice is placed low within the depths of his throat, deliberate and careful with each word he chooses, yet remaining mysterious with its pure intention. “He can’t even follow one simple rule.”
You’re more than confused since you had prepared yourself for a scolding remark. Paired with the fact that his frustration is directed at Josh instead, you’re blindsided enough that you stumble over your response, “Wha-what rule?”
He clicks his tongue in disapproval, pressing the rough pad of his middle finger against your sensitive bud hard enough for you to gasp loudly. “Oh? He didn’t tell you?” It’s clear he’s enjoying playing this little game of his from the amused lilt in his tone. He takes his time drinking your presence, ghosting his lips over your cheek until you can barely feel them brush along the shell of your ear. “Josh and I had made a little agreement that we aren’t allowed to cum inside you. That’s it — the one and only rule we had settled on.”
The following purposeful inhale against your jawline makes your heart race, and you swear to yourself he must feel each beat under his lips. With different circumstances you might be annoyed by their choice to exclude you from the said agreement, but the gravelly sound of his voice crackles through your mind, like a rake passing through a bed of red-hot embers., “But, it’s good to know that he can hold up his end of the deal.”
The sarcasm dripping in those words with the agonizingly slow roll of his fingers through your folds is enough to drive you borderline insane. A wave of guilt tries to wash over you, making you want to defend Josh given the fact you had asked him to do so, but before you can confess, Jake adds in a soothing voice, “You really must be something special.”
He pumps his middle finger into your pussy, causing a whiny moan to crack from your chest. Looking down at you through heavy lids, he coos softly against your parted lips as he withdraws his finger from inside you, “What about you, dove? Are you good at doing what you’re told?”
It’s embarrassing how quickly you submit to his warm touch, to his teasing words; dignity and self-control proves to be non-existent when the hushed whisper leaves you. “Yes, Jake.”
He lets out a satisfied hum, retreating his hand from between your aching legs to bring his wet fingers to your lips, “Good. Now open for me, beautiful.”
You do as you’re told, taking the first two digits into your waiting mouth while the rest of his hand wraps around your chin to hold you still. He pushes them over your flattened tongue toward the back of your throat, making you gag around them in such a pitiful act. He watches you as you try to suppress your body’s signals through the tears beginning to well in your eyes. Although, it doesn’t take long for you to feel him throb against your core when you begin to lick around them, tasting yourself and Josh off his warm skin.
He pushes his fingers down on your tongue as he lowers himself to your ear for the final time, sending the primal growl straight through you. “Clean my brother off yourself and meet me in the bedroom.”
With that, he pulls his fingers from your mouth, creating a thin string of your spit from your lips as he begins to lift himself off the couch. Through your flustered state, you’re able to catch his fingers glistening in the light before he wipes them off on his pants as he stands to his feet. He doesn’t say another word and saunters away out of your view into the hallway until the next thing you hear is the door to his room latching closed. You stay in silence, trapped in a daze as your head spins free from everything happening so fast.
You know you shouldn’t give in to the temptation — the need to have him feeling forbidden even though it technically isn’t. The respectable thing for you to do would be to pack up your things and head home for the evening. That’s not the reality though, because you know yourself better than that. He’s led you right to the water’s edge, and now all you have to do is take a drink.
Your stiff muscles ache from sleep as you gather the strength to pull yourself up off the couch, but thankfully the walk to the bathroom is a short one. The lightheaded feeling takes over as anticipation bubbles in your stomach - it’s the same sensation you experienced when you first came here today, but only worse. You’re finding that things with Jake are unexpected and uncharted. Josh gives you a sense of safety and security, whereas his twin wants to nudge you to the limits of your comfort zone.
Despite the jittery, tingling feeling in your chest, you quickly strip out of your clothes and step into the shower so the hot water can do its job reviving you. You’re not entirely sure whether this moment to yourself is beneficial, because all you can think of is the time you were in here last. It consumes your brain so much that you spend the next several minutes staring at the tilework, locked in a cycle of memories.
You lather the soap onto your body, washing away the last few hours the best you can. The only thing the soap doesn’t change is the soreness that Josh has left you with. It’s not a painful or unbearable feeling, because if anything, you love having the reminder.
Since you’re skipping the process of washing your hair, the shower isn’t a long one. Your clothes are crumpled in a pile on the floor, so the bathroom towel is the only thing you have. You wrap it around yourself and make your way to Jake’s room.
The muffled sounds of music playing can be heard through the door, so you choose to skip the courtesy knock and open it a few inches. You peer inside the dimly-lit room to see him lying across his bed, leaning up against the stack of pillows.
While you were busy showering, he took the opportunity to remove his shirt and pants, leaving only a pair of tight-fitting heather-gray boxer briefs. You scan over his mostly-bare body, lingering on his tanned, tattooed chest. The silver medallion he wears around his neck catches your attention, bringing your eyes to its resting place on the top of the inked skull. With one hand gripping the headboard above his head and the other scrolling away on the phone propped up on his chest, he doesn’t appear to notice you.
The loud creaking of the floorboard gives you away when you take a step forward, pulling his focus away from the tiny screen in his hand. Resting the phone against his chest, he looks you over with a crooked smile hooking his lip. Now that you have his attention, you release your hold on the towel covering your body, allowing the cloth to drop to the floor in a heap at your feet.
The state of vulnerability with the chill of the air on your still-damp skin causes a wave of goosebumps to rise on the surface and a shudder rolls down your spine, but the warmth of his burning gaze helps stave off your lingering nervousness.
Your unexpected act of coyness takes him off guard and his eyes struggle to stay in one place on your body as a result. The phone suddenly becomes a nuisance, so he tosses the device off to the side of the bed to rub his hand across his torso while he looks you over. When his eyes eventually make their way back up to yours, he instructs in a calm voice, tapping his upper thigh to beckon you forward, “C’mere.”
There’s something about this moment that makes you feel like the one in control, even if it’s for a fleeting second, so you seize it without a second thought. You push unspoken limits with him, but he can’t deny that he isn’t enjoying this little show you’re putting on. You feel his energy hang over the room like a dense fog, but don’t dare to look at him while you take your time crossing the room, placing one bare foot in front of the other at an excruciatingly slow pace.
You feel the post on the bottom corner of his bed, drawing your fingertips around the ornate carvings into the dark wood. The strained breath he takes reveals to you that he’s growing more impatient with you by the second as your hand swims across the sea of blankets.
He suddenly leans toward the nightstand and reaches for a sleek black remote hidden in the drawer. The soft, amber lighting of the lamp instantly switches the second with the click of a button, casting the room in an unexpected red glow.
His eyes lock onto you, following your every move as you climb onto the bed and crawl up the length of his body. He feels so hot to the touch that it makes you suck in a breath despite being almost naked himself, and the heat coming off him permeates into your skin like an electric blanket. Once you settle onto his lap, the grip he had on the wooden headboard suddenly releases so he can brush over your bare thighs. His calloused hands roam across the skin while still being mindful of the healing tattoo on your leg.
You balance yourself with a leg on either side of him, stretching your back out to accentuate the curves of your body for him. His hands continue along their path and latch onto your hips as he lifts his own, sending his erection into you with more force than before. His fingers stay wrapped around your waist to guide you against him, digging into the supple flesh so tight that there’s a possibility that they’ll leave a new collection of bruises for you to find later.
As you fall into a natural rhythm, you allow your hands to explore his smooth chest to feel the muscles flex beneath your palms with every breath. His skin is satin-soft to the touch, warm with vitality as it glows brightly in the crimson light. You look down at him to see that he’s preoccupied with basking in your beauty — taking in all the little details before his very eyes as if this is the last time he will see them like this. The overwhelming temptation to kiss him consumes you, making you lean in to bring your lips to his for the first time this evening.
When you expect the feeling of his lips meeting yours, you feel his hand grasp your chin and throat instead, stopping you so that your mouth hovers just above his.
The pressure he has on you is firm, yet controlled enough to still be gentle. A heavy sigh sends the spiced scent of cinnamon on his breath, tingling your senses when he scolds you, “Aht…I don’t think you’ve earned that yet, dove.”
You groan in frustration with a deliberate roll of your hips that causes his hold to loosen around your jaw. It’s enough for you to break free and attach your lips to the side of his neck. He doesn’t stop you this time, and lets out a pleased sigh while pulling you in closer with his hand weaving into your hair.
You take your time, grazing your lips ever-so-softly along his jawline, feeling every bated breath, every harsh swallow. Each drawn-out kiss along his throat seems to make his body relax and tense in unison. He curses quietly when you suck a mark of your own, causing his voice to vibrate against your mouth. He seems lost for the moment as the warm, wet feeling of your tongue traveling down his neck acts like a drug. He allows you to continue, and you wonder to yourself if he even realizes that you’re leaving a collection of splotched marks across his skin.
Every detail of his hard cock straining through the stretched cotton of his boxers against your skin adds another layer of sensations as you grind yourself against him. You slip down his body, kissing along the contour of his collarbones and planes of his chest. His fingers are still intertwined in the depths of your hair, pulling at the roots as you venture further. You nip the soft flesh of his stomach, causing a sharp breath to be sucked between his clenched teeth as he drags his blunt nails through your hair.
You kiss along the patch of skin where the band of his boxers rests low on his waist, letting your breath cling to him from hip to hip. The movement of his legs beneath your body tells you he’s getting restless with your teasing, but you decide to push the limit just a little more.
You tug the waistband down a few inches, just far enough for you to play with the trail of hair leading from his navel to the base of his cock with a taunting lick of your tongue. Just like how you peppered his throat with marks, you do the same here, causing his grip on your hair to tighten into a fist, making you yelp.
He huffs a sharp laugh while soothing the sting on your scalp with his thumb, “If you keep playing games with me, you’re not going to get the reward.”
You don’t respond with words, but rather with another lick across the covered length of his cock, wetting the gray fabric as you go. You wrap your lips around it, feeling how hard it’s become, how it throbs under the touch of your warm mouth. You hear a whimper cracking from his chest over the music playing in his room.
You finally pull back the boxers, releasing him from the restriction that’s been tormenting him for the last few minutes. You’ve seen his cock before, but the new lighting makes it feel different somehow — richer, softer. You take him in your hand and find the feverishly hot feeling of his skin pairs with the red glow cast upon the room.
Before you take him into your mouth, the kiss you place on the head of his cock drives him to the brink of insanity. Feeding off his body’s responses, you give him a little more with a flick of the tip of your tongue to that extra sensitive spot. You watch him closely, noting how the shadows on his chest change with his labored breathing, how the muscles of his arm flex as he grabs the headboard, to the way his eyes clamp shut with brimming anticipation.
You slide his cock along your tongue, filling your mouth with him. In the short time spent together, you’ve quickly found that he’s thicker than his brother, making up for the slight difference in their length. As much as you fight the initial feeling, it doesn’t take long for the familiar burn to build in your jaw.
You focus your effort on the tip of his cock, swirling your tongue in changing patterns while working your hand around what your mouth can’t reach. He loses the battle of restraint and thrusts himself into the back of your throat, making you gag around him.
You react by pulling him from your mouth, creating a lewd display of your spit that’s covering him. When you look up and gather a steadying breath, his eyes are open, watching you through his lust-heavy lids. The sight of him, laid out before you and painted in blood-red light, sucks every breath of air from your lungs. His blown pupils are so black that they appear to be dipped in ink, framed with dark lashes. You draw the details into memory, following the plumes of tattooed smoke swirling across his chest and over his body. He smiles, revealing the set of perfectly white teeth behind pouty lips, despite giving you the feeling that he’s the snake offering you a bite of the forbidden fruit.
He drips with sinful desire, coaxing you further into a state of depravity.
Something in his eyes glistens before he reaches to sweep the fallen hair from your face. “You’re just the prettiest whore for me, aren’t you, dove?”
Something about the harsh name woven within the praise ignites the fire within your belly. He knows that he renders you speechless more often than not, and chuckles at your lack of response.
What you do is stare back at him, locked in the depths of his eyes as they draw you in. You do this as you bring him back to your swollen lips, giving him a show you don’t ever want him to forget. His thick brows furrow, pulling together to create a defined line between them.
You roll your tongue around him, tasting the subtle saltiness of his skin while tracing every intricate detail, every vein, taking satisfaction in how his eyes begin to roll back behind his lids. He mouths the word “fuck” before his head falls against the pillow once more.
They don’t stay closed for long, but when they open again, his focus is directed at the ceiling. A knowing grin creeps back over his face, reminding you of the massive mirror. You break the seal of your lips around him, tilting your head to meet his gaze in the reflection — a sight worth remembering. You make sure to keep stroking his cock while you take in the erotic image of your stretched-out body slotted between his legs.
Knowing that he’s watching, you go back to using your mouth until a whimpered breath pushes past his lips. “That feels so fucking good.”
As much as you love seeing him lost in the feeling of his building orgasm, you’re not quite ready to give it all to him. You suddenly change up, and gently drag your teeth across the length of his cock enough for him to suck in a breath.
The next sound from his mouth is a warning using your real name.
You know you shouldn’t tease him this much, but you couldn’t contain the temptation if your life depended on it. Your mouth stays just shy of a kiss to the head of his cock, stroking your hand around him without following any real rhythm.
“That’s it,” he grunts in frustration, hooking his hands under your arms and pulling you up onto his chest. He releases his hold and grabs your thighs to guide you even higher up his body as he adjusts lower on the bed. The strength behind the action startles you, but he doesn’t bother to acknowledge it. “Sit on my face.”
You don’t object, using the headboard as balance while you find the new position, but his impatience causes him to do most of the work for you. Once you have your legs on either side of his head, you hover above his face, feeling the heat of his panting breath clinging to your core.
“I said ‘sit’,” he growls into you as he locks his arms around your thighs, yanking your full weight onto his face. One of your hands fly to his hair and pulls at the scalp harder than you intended. He doesn’t seem to care, and forgoes easing you into the feeling of his tongue by lapping across your clit in frenzied hunger, sucking it into the heat of his mouth.
“Jake. Jake. Jake!” you cry out while involuntarily trying to pull yourself from him, but the way his arms are wrapping around your legs act like a vice grip.
Clawing fingers do nothing, as they are pressing hard enough into the supple skin to keep you in place that they might leave bruises for you to find tomorrow.
You’re not going anywhere.
You accept your fate and before long, you start to slowly ride him with your hands bracing onto the headboard for balance, grinding your clit against the hard bridge of his nose. He only loosens his grip by moving his hands from the tops of your thighs to your ass, following the movement of your rocking hips as he massages the soft skin. While his tongue goes to work circling around your bundle of nerves, one of his hands stops rubbing your ass and dips between your shaking legs.
Your breath hitches when he traces the delicate contours of your body with the pad of his middle finger, teasing your entrance before eventually slipping it inside you. The feeling of your walls tightening around him through the slow strokes of his finger causes a low, rumbling groan to vibrate between your legs. He then does the unexpected, retreating his hand back to caress your ass once more, but before you can utter a word, he takes you by surprise again when his open palm cracks against the skin, causing another cry to pierce the air.
He’s nowhere near done with you yet, so the addition of his ring finger stretches you out, giving you a fuller feeling while his tongue works the rest of you. The vulgar sounds of low growls through the wet sucking and kissing of your sensitive skin makes your chest tighten and your face flush with heat. Meanwhile, a song of moans falls freely from your open lips and your nails claw into the wooden headboard while his own drag across your flesh, leaving stinging streaks of red in their path.
The climb to your peak isn’t an easy one as Jake hurls you to the edge within a matter of minutes. You’re on the brink of overstimulation already, sending the bedframe into the wall behind it with every rock of your hips. He pauses long enough to chuckle when he hears the steady thuds, but goes right back to the punishment of sucking on your clit as his fingers curl inside you.
Sensing that you’re close, he lifts you away from his mouth far enough for the words to be mumbled into your skin through heavy breath. “Come for me, sweet dove.”
You’re not thinking clearly with the dense fog clouding your mind. You are at war with yourself, desperate for the release while also frightened of the intensity that it presents. Your body’s state of turmoil makes you groan in protest to which he snips back, “It wasn’t a request.”
Up until now, you’ve been successful at holding it back by some miracle, keeping the wall of your impending orgasm standing upright. He snatches that power from you with the aggressive roll of his tongue over you, bringing down your composure to mere rubble at his feet. He devours it, lapping over you as to not miss a single second of your pleasure. You only manage to convulse around him, riding the high he’s giving you, and if you bother to care, you might be worried about the crescent-shaped indents you’ve created into the wood.
After a few minutes to come down, you release your hold on the edge of the headboard as you remove yourself from his face, but end up collapsing backwards onto him due to your weakened muscles. He joins your laughter in your fucked-out state, sitting up from the bed to help you up with an outstretched hand. The other finds a place around the back of your neck, keeping your focus on him as his smile slowly fades. “Get on your knees.”
His face is soaked from you, shining in the dim lighting that also catches the glare of his obsidian pupils. You heard him, but every thought surging through your brain feels static, keeping your limbs frozen in place. He doesn’t wait for you to react, and maneuvers you both so that you’re kneeling with your back pressed up against his chest, facing the headboard. One hand rests on your hip while the other roams across your bare chest, feeling over your breasts. He finally breaks the character, dropping the cocky tone to whisper softly in your ear, “Are you okay with being tied up?”
You swallow back the lump in your throat, but not because you’re surprised at the progression of the evening. The question coming from him doesn’t shock you much, and if anything, you could say you expected it. Looking back, the thought may have passed through your mind the second you set eyes on the four-post bed last week. But there was no denying that this was new territory for you, and the inexperience in bondage left you suddenly feeling shy. However, in order to not reveal your hand, you nod your head against him, hoping that he takes it as a confident answer.
He’s busy burying his face into your hair when hums against your skin. There’s a sweetness to the muffled sound, and he pairs it with a pleasant squeeze of his arm around your chest. You know he doesn’t buy it, but the sincerity in his voice alone makes you melt into his embrace. “You sure?”
He starts to rock his hips into you, pressing his hard cock against the curve of your ass, which in turn makes it more difficult for you to focus on forming a believable answer.
Before you drift away too far, he tows you back in. “Use your words. I need to hear you say it.”
Your voice is soft and delicate, barely above a whisper. “Yes, Jake. I want to be tied up.”
He bites at that ticklish spot behind your ear before giving you a soothing, deep kiss in its place with a satisfied pur. “Perfect. We’re gonna start using safe-words now, dove.” His hand leaves its place on your breast and slides up the column of your neck, wrapping around your throat in a firm grasp to hold your undivided attention.
“Listen to me carefully. Green is for when it’s feeling fucking amazing and you want me to keep going. Yellow is when you’re unsure and starting to feel uncomfortable with what’s happening. You tell me ‘red’ when you want me to stop immediately. Do you understand, baby?”
His voice blends in with the music playing in the background, making this entire experience feel like a fever dream. You nearly choke on your breath, muttering a simple, “Yes.”
“Good. Now let’s have some fun.” He guides you down to the bed with his hand placed firmly in the center of your back until your stomach is laying across the bed. You wait patiently for him as he reaches over you for the restraints hidden under the mattress. The first thing brought into your view is a thin metal chain attached to a thick black strap. You can’t really place whether it's the excitement or nervousness settling in your body when you see them in his hands, but he seems to notice your stiff body language right away. “Relax for me, baby.”
A deep exhale shudders through you as he starts undoing the black velcro of one strap, taking your right wrist in his hand and gently placing it in the fabric restraint to secure it. He does the same to your left, and before you know it, both hands are bound by chains fastened to the underside of the bed.
Despite that, there’s a sense of relief when you realize that there’s enough slack for you to bring them in front of your face and for you to support yourself on your elbows, but there’s no doubt most of your movement is restricted. It’s also very clear that even though they’re fastened with velcro, you would struggle to get out of them without his help. You mindlessly tug at them and laugh nervously, blurting out the dumb joke, “You’re not gonna have a heart attack and die on me, right? Like that movie?”
He laughs as well, gracing your ears with the reassuring sound before he straightens behind you with his hands now braced on your hips. With his guidance, your back is arched downwards with your face pressed into the mattress and your ass on full display. This new level of vulnerability with Jake causes you to impulsively pull at the restraints again, fighting the restricting feeling of your arms. Within seconds, your body is locked with tension, holding every muscle prisoner to the point where it feels impossible to find a comfortable position.
Jake senses your creeping anxiety when rubs his thumb along the base of your spine, kneading tight muscles in the small of your back. He pauses the movement of his hand for a second and leans in, meeting his lips with the outer edge of your ear. His hushed voice is comforting to you even if it’s filled with a sense of concern. “This isn’t meant to scare you, sweetheart. We can stop anytime, just say the word.”
You shake your head in protest, mumbling your words into the silken sheets that are drenched in his cologne. “No. I want to keep going. I want this.”
A minute ago he was ready to take you, to fuck you so hard you couldn’t speak or remember your name. Now, his impatience appears to have wavered enough for him to take his time, to admire you with a hand running along the curve of your back and down between your shoulders. “Color?”
You swallow thickly to catch your breath before answering in a voice that’s shaky at best, “Green.”
You feel the heat of his cock pressing between your legs while a deep sigh releases from his chest, “Good.”
Not being able to see what he’s doing or reach for him causes the anticipation to bubble up from the pit of your belly and seep into your chest. Your lungs have been crying in desperation for the full breath that you’ve been denying since the restraints were placed around your wrists.
He props you up as he leans in, sweeping the hair from your shoulder to place an affectionate kiss to the skin. When he speaks, his crooning voice hangs around you like thick plumes of smoke. “Breathe for me.”
He holds you, caressing you in the places you need most, and after a minute your breathing falls in sync with his.
“Good girl.”
You back into him as he strokes himself with slow, deliberate pumps of his hand, causing his knuckles to brush against your skin with each one. You’re so desperate to have him that you’ve forgotten how sensitive you truly are until he passes his fingers over your aching cunt.
In fact, you’re so hyper-sensitive to the touch that your immediate reaction is to pull away from him. He shushes your cry, ghosting over your entrance to rest his hand on the swell of your ass. “He left you a bit sore, didn’t he?”
You nod, taking another deep breath in through your nose to help you ease back from the edge you’ve been standing on. He suddenly reaches over to dig around in the nightstand, pulling out a small bottle of lube amongst the clutter, and just as quickly as he enters your view, he’s out of it.
You hear the sound of the plastic bottle opening, followed by the sensation of cool liquid running down you. The feeling sends a shiver up your spine, causing a giggle to flutter from your lips.
His fingers catch any that would have dripped onto the bed, coating you in the slippery mess. He glides two lubed fingers inside you, making sure you’re more than prepared before lines himself at your entrance.
“Are you ready?” It’s the very first time you detect a crack in his voice, revealing to you his own state of mind at this moment. He waits for your answer, dipping the head of his cock into you just enough for your pussy to wrap around him, beckoning him to push further.
You keep your moan trapped behind your lips. “Mmmhmm.”
“Words, dove.”
He’s so close to giving you what you both so clearly want, yet he teases you at every turn by pulling himself away. “Fuck, Jake! Please! Yes!”
With that, he drives himself into you to the hilt in a single thrust, pushing all the air from your lungs in a pitched cry. Even though it helps having his cock slick with lube so he can slip into you effortlessly, he still fills you up completely with a dull sting. He rolls his hips, spilling curses that weave seamlessly within your own as he nudges himself at your limit.
Your body acts on its own, so you pull at the restraints, making the metal chain strain against the wood bed frame. He withdraws himself and pushes back in slowly, building a gentle rhythm.
His hand rubs across your lower back as he mutters the praise, “Oh baby…fuck, you feel good.”
He’s silken and hot, gliding over your hidden spot with each languid stroke of his cock. You had expected him to be unforgiving, fucking you hard and fast without repreive. He’s doing the opposite, making sure that both of you experience every feeling of each other.
He dips his hand between your legs to circle your sensitive clit while being mindful of the pressure of his fingertips. The combination of his pace and the swirling of his fingers has that recognizable feeling igniting in your core.
This is the moment where he decides to pay you back for all the teasing you did earlier. He knows that you can’t do anything about it, that you can’t take control and touch yourself without him. He uses it against you, keeping the head of his cock just deep enough to drive you crazy while slowing the roll of his fingers over your clit to an excruciatingly slow speed. You become frustrated, writhing beneath him and pushing yourself back to chase any friction at all.
You turn your head to say something, but catch something in the corner of your eye instead. You bring yourself to your elbows while blinking your vision into focus, staring into the darkness of the room. It’s the silhouette of Josh standing in the doorway, leaning a shoulder against the frame. Before you can get a clearer look of the expression on his face or even say a single word to him, he disappears out of your view.
You jolt upright onto your elbows until the restraints pull at your wrists, sending a hiss over your shoulder, “Jake!”
He snakes a hand into your hair, whipping your head back right as he slams his hips into you with a forceful grunt through his teeth. “I know. I saw him…and I’m gonna make sure he fucking hears you, too.”
His hands lock around your waist, leaving tiny finger-sized bruises behind. You decide to retaliate by burying your face in the sheets to muffle your cries as each powerful thrust threatens to test the limits of your body. It’s a feeling you don’t experience often — a delightful, addicting mixture of pleasure, overstimulation, and pain.
He stops long enough to ask you, “Color?”
You spit a curse at him before answering, “Green, fucking green!”
As much as he would love to keep going like this, he’s getting closer than he expected. His movements are starting to become staggered in the frenzy, his fingers can’t seem to rest at your hips, curling and dragging across the flesh.
“Fuck…fuck. Come on, baby, come on,” he groans above you, the words sounding more desperate than they have before. “Come for me.”
You want to please him but your fatigued legs shake and tears begin to well in your eyes telling you otherwise, but end up choking out a sob. “I can’t.”
He falls forward to rip the velcro fastened around your wrists and frantically tosses them off the bed with the crashing sound of metal hitting wooden floors. You’re yanked upright again, molded to his sweat-covered chest.
The edge of his teeth rakes across your ear as he growls, “I thought I told you that he was going to hear you.”
You let your head fall onto his shoulder in a listless roll of defeat as the last orgasm drained most of your energy. His cock slips out from the new position, but is instantly replaced by his fingers, making it clear that he has other plans for you.
With the heel of his palm rubbing directly on your clit, his two longest fingers curl inside you. He’s not gentle, picking up right where he left off, making you grasp and claw at his hand, summoning his voice once more. “I know you have one more for me, pretty girl.”
You give in, moving with the thrashing of his hand until he slips in a third finger, hooking you in an act of possession. You’re at his will and mercy — belonging to him at this moment. He’s relentless and unforgiving in his determination at dragging you to your second peak.
Your pathetic whimper is the only thing you can muster up within your dazed mind. “I want to feel you…”
He grinds his still-hard cock against your ass, chuckling onto your tacky skin, “Want me to cum for you?” As if your voice has been stolen, your weak nod is your answer as you reach back for him while he continues, “He just gives it up so easily, doesn’t he? I wanna hear you beg me for it. Tell me how much you want me to fill up that sweet pussy of yours.”
You're rambling, literally begging on your knees for it, “Please. I want it. I want you to cum inside me.”
He’s putting up quite the act, but you know he wants it just as badly as you do, swearing that hear the neediness laden within the sinful cadence, “Oh, you sound so pretty, dove. So soft and delicate…it almost feels wrong to ruin it.”
You’re at the tipping point — right where he wants you. If you were paying attention at all, you would hear the sounds of your pooling wetness becoming louder with each passing second. With a stinging bite to your neck and a roll of his fingers, you're pushed over the edge. He’s been timing it just so, that when the crashing wave of your release consumes your body, his cock slips back inside you.
You flutter around him as the endorphins course through your veins, the euphoria of your climax drowning every one of your senses. He has been dancing the line himself, falling right behind you through the last faltering thrusts of his hips. He groans your name through it all, spilling his cum deep inside you.
The both of you stay frozen in this position, limbs intertwined as panting breaths echo throughout the room. The music that was playing when you first entered stopped playing minutes ago, leaving you in the moment of silence.
Before he breaks away and shifts his body out from behind you, he squeezes your hip. “You okay?”
You fall forward onto your hands, pushing out a breathy laugh. “Yeah.”
“Don’t move. I’ll be right back.” He taps your thigh in reassurance and carefully maneuvers off the bed.
Any energy you may have had stashed away has been drained from you, causing you to collapse into the mattress. You’re not sure how much time passes in his absence, and truthfully, there’s a possibility that you might have actually drifted off to sleep at one point. He returns with a gatorade, glass filled with ice, and a warm washcloth in his hands.
The switch in the lighting is what makes your eyes open, only to see him setting the drink and glass on the nightstand. “Sorry the drink isn’t cold, we usually keep them stashed for hangovers.”
Propping yourself on your arm, you mumble in a tired voice, “Thank you.”
You see that he’s standing at the side of the bed, and has slipped on his pair of gray boxers since he left you. His golden-skin soaks in the glow of the lamp, coaxing you to watch him crack open the seal of the drink and pour the bright blue liquid over the cup, filled to the brim with ice. He hands it to you with a soft smile that’s warm and comforting.
He silently offers the washcloth that’s been draped across his arm to you before padding over to his dresser. While you clean up, he shuffles through the drawer of clothing and retrieves a pair of boxers similar to what he’s wearing and faded black t-shirt. He then plucks the cloth from your hand and tosses it into the hamper, replacing it with the clothes he’s chosen for you.
You dress yourself as he finds a comfortable spot in the bed, and let the question that’s been burning in your mind since it happened slip out. “Is he mad?”
Jake pauses and looks at you directly, studying the expression on your face. “Josh?”
His surprised tone suddenly makes you feel embarrassed for even asking, causing your gaze to fall to the glass in your hand. “Yeah…from seeing us?”
As comfortable as he is, he’s not oblivious to the unorthodox dynamic the three of you have found yourselves in, and tries to soothe that concern by rubbing his hand across your back in calming circles. “If it helps ease your mind at all, I just checked on him a minute ago. He’s in his room listening to his music and working on some designs for tomorrow.”
“He wasn’t upset?”
“Not that I could tell. We actually just talked about work.” Your eyes fixate on the ice clinking around in your glass while you process everything that has happened tonight. When he senses that your worry hasn’t dissipated completely, he finally asks, “Do you want to go?”
He doesn’t do the best job at hiding the disappointment from you, layering it in the sound of his voice. You’ve made your decision, shaking your head with your answer. “No, I’ll stay here tonight.”
In a flash of a second, and without warning, he pulls your face into his with a hold around your chin, capturing your lips into his for the first time tonight. It’s indulgent and passionate with every sweep of his tongue across your own. As surprised as you are from the gesture, he’s the one to break away, mumbling against your mouth, “Perfect. Now let’s get some sleep.”
That’s something you don’t argue with him on, knowing that you’re half-way there already. He settles in behind you as you lay on your side, rubbing your shoulder and tracing his fingertips along the curves of your body and up again until slumber takes hold.
As if your unconscious mind knows you’re in an unfamiliar place, it catapults you awake with strange dreams and presents you with a dark room. You bring your hands up and rub the sleep from your eyes, hoping to clear your vision and the disorientation you’re experiencing. Stretching out the stiffness in your arms, you turn to see Jake sleeping beside you. He’s on his stomach, snoring loudly with his face turned away from you and his long chestnut hair draped across his shoulders. Without your phone nearby, you’re not even sure what time of the night it is and decide against waking him. You pull your legs to the edge of the mattress with calculated movements and slide out of the bed.
You’re careful walking across the hall once you’re out of Jake’s room, tiptoeing so the wooden floor boards don’t creak beneath your shifting weight. You guess that it’s still early with the morning sun just barely filtering through the windows of the house, so you decide against knocking on his bedroom door.
The knob turns when you twist it in your steady palm, and you hope that he doesn’t stir from the noise. You take your time cracking the door open inch-by-inch to gauge the mood he may be in if he were to be awake - especially given how things were left from the night before. Peering into the right side of his bedroom, movement catches your eye and it takes you a moment for you to focus on what it is.
A soft, blue-ish haze of the dawn sun soaks the room, but you instantly realize he isn’t sleeping at all. Instead of soft snoring filling your ears, you hear faint whimpers lewd, wet sounds with strained, heavy breathing before your eyes have the chance to catch up to the image before you.
Once your vision blinks into focus, you’re frozen in place, standing with statuesque stillness as quietly as you possibly can while you watch in wonder. There’s that part of you fighting within the walls of your conscience, telling you to tear your eyes away from him and step out of the room, but your voyeuristic curiosity keeps them glued to him.
The very sight knocks your breath from your lungs long enough for them to ache in need for oxygen. You stare at him lying outstretched across the unmade bed, naked, with the bedding crumpled in a pile beneath his feet. Somehow he hasn’t noticed your presence in the doorway yet, but you’re quick to understand the reason why. Even with the movement, you recognize the toy in his right hand as a fleshlight — one that’s entirely see-through, made with clear plastic and silicone.
Your face flushes hot when you put together that the wet noises you were hearing was the toy being pumped over his lube-slicked cock. Now you’re seeing it for yourself, watching how the head slips effortlessly into the ribbed inside with each purposeful stroke of his hand.
You can see how he watches himself fuck it.
Tiny grunts push past his gritted teeth with each slow drive of his cock into the soft silicone. It’s a window into his self-pleasure, a glimpse of the pure eroticism to what he’s like without a lover to distract him. The curtains have been drawn back, revealing one of his most vulnerable states and you can’t help but clench your thighs together from seeing it for the first time.
His free hand is restless, roaming across the smooth, inked skin of his heaving chest. Open fingers brush over hardened nipples before diving into the sleep-tangled curls at the nape of his neck. You think you see something different about his hand — something new.
Are his nails painted?
Focusing in on his dominant hand wrapped around the toy, you can make out the black shellac on his thumbnail. He must’ve done it between the time he left you yesterday afternoon and now.
It’s simply mesmerizing how he twists the toy over himself, thrusting into the opening in synchronized movements. After a hushed moan, he throws his head back as he veers closer and closer to the peak. You freeze, thinking that he can see you for sure. Instead of facing your direction, he turns his head to the opposite side, burying himself into the pillow beside him.
The burning desire to have him builds between your legs as you watch his hips writhe and the tendons and muscles in his arm flex. As excitement floods your senses, you contemplate how long you should stay, worrying that you’ve crossed some sort of boundary by lingering. You even consider the idea of sneaking back into Jake’s room and pretending that none of this happened. Before the thoughts escape from your grasp, you hear him groan something, but the sound is too muffled to make out the word until he says it again.
It’s your name. Clear as day. Spoken through a harsh whisper.
You can’t wait anymore, feeling like you might burst open at the seams at any second. A gasp breaks free just as you finally nudge the door enough for it to squeak along his hinges, alerting him of your presence. He whips his head in your direction, halting the movement of his hand holding the toy with that telling, stunned look in his doe eyes. Embarrassment flashes over his face for a split second as you close the door behind you, but the expression immediately shifts into relief when he sees that it’s you.
Before shyness or reservation has the chance to pull you back, you step forward, closing the short distance between you. Your eyes stay fixed to him as you take your sweet time crossing the room to the bed, making sure to burn the sheen of sweat collecting across his brow and cheeks, and the way it’s causing them to shine a flushed, rosy-pink into your memory.
Josh shifts around on the mattress like he’s trying to sit up while he starts to pull the toy from himself, but you interrupt him before he’s able to. “Don’t stop. Keep going.”
He relaxes back against the pillows and grins the second the request is blurted past your lips, flashing you that aggravatingly cocky smile of his. Biting at his bottom lip with a stroke of the toy over his cock, he asks in that sinfully raspy voice of his, “Wanna watch me fuck myself, baby?”
Just the sounds of those words almost make your knees buckle out from under you at this very moment. How you’re keeping yourself from collapsing onto the floor is beyond your comprehension. Yet, you stay strong, stubborn in your need to hold onto this tiny amount of control you may or may not possess. So, you stand at the side of his bed, tracing your fingertips along his bare shin.
He’s so hypersensitive that he twitches involuntarily at the gentle touch, causing you to flinch your hand back. A breath of laughter flutters from him, as if asking for your affection once more.
You offer a soft smile before you sit on the side of the bed, looking over his lean frame as he starts moving the toy on his cock again. He’s taking his time, working himself in such a way that doesn’t push his composure too close to the breaking point. You’re in awe of the intimate details of it all. The way his legs writhe and fidget across the mattress, how the taut muscles of his stomach flex and relax sporadically through his broken rhythm, to the way the inked cherries above his cock are glazed in lube, shining away in the light.
With your open hand inching its way up his leg to massage the muscles of his thigh, you finally ask in your sultriest voice, “Does it feel good?”
He watches, giving you a satisfied hum while the silicone grips around his entire length, before sighing, “Yeah.”
You surprise him when you reach out and take control of the toy from him, wrapping your hand around the clear plastic base. In theory you felt confident, but the action of using it on him feels wildly sensual, and it takes you a moment to get the right technique. “Describe it to me.”
His throaty laughter is enough to drive you absolutely insane. “How it feels?”
It’s clear that he’s distracted from how he can only watch how his cock slowly glides in and out of the toy that’s in your hand. “Mhmm”
“I mean…probably the closest thing you can get to the real thing…” He trails off, ending the thought with a harsh groan when you push the toy all the way down onto his length. “Fuck!”
You pay attention to how his breathing becomes ragged and the way his eyes flutter closed as you pull the toy up at an agonizingly slow speed. “Feel better than me?”
Even though he’s fighting it, you can tell how close he is by his brows pinching together as his hips roll into the direction of your hand. “Oh my god, no! You’re so warm and tight, baby. I love how wet you get…squeezing around me when you come. Oh fucking—“ He’s catching on his words, huffing them out through shaky half-breaths.
You’re satisfied from this unexpected wave of power you’re holding over him, keeping him tethered to the pleasure that you’re in control of. He only seems happy to relinquish it, digging his nails across his chest and leaving trails of red in their path.
With an upward stroke of the fleshlight, you keep the opening barely suspended on the head of his cock, making him drive his hips off the bed to chase the feeling. His eyes clamp shut while he bites in his lips between his teeth. The breathy whimper that leaves him only fuels your need, but you choose to hide it with a teasing quip, “And you couldn’t wait for me?”
He shudders a deafed laugh into the palms of his hands as he drags them down his face — which captures your focus to his painted nails. “You’re fucking evil.”
You take it as a challenge, and pull the toy from him completely and toss it on the bed to be lost within the duvet, letting his still-throbbing cock slap against his belly in the process.
The look he’s giving is one of pure confusion, so you give the order, “Use your hand. I wanna see you.”
The left corner of his mouth tugs into a smug grin just as his slender fingers slide down the center of his body to wrap around the thick base. He knows perfectly well that he’s stolen your attention, making sure to put on a show of his own. With his eye-contact never breaking and one hand grasped tightly around himself, the other begins to glide up and down his lubed cock. His tattooed fingers, now slick, twist around his cock in changing patterns and speeds.
Swirling the pad of his index finger on that sensitive spot beneath the head at a teasing speed, he begs, “Take off that shirt, baby. Let me see you. Please.”
A smile threatens to break through your stoic facade, nearly pushing you to give in to the desperate plea. It’s taking every ounce of your willpower not to crawl onto his lap and slip his throbbing cock between your legs. You want to ride him for hours, feel him quiver beneath you while moaning sweet nothings in your ear. “Tell me what you were thinking about first.”
“Just now?” He pauses as if he has to search in the depths of his mind for the answer. “Oh fuck…The way you felt the first time I fucked you. I- I was thinking about the sounds you make when you’re about to come.” He stops to swallow and licks across his lips. “ I can’t get enough of the way your mouth feels around me.”
“You like being the first?”
He pulls his brows together as he closes his eyes once again, pushing out a heavy breath. “Uh-huh.”
The pumps of the hand become faster, verging on being sporadic. He’s on the brink of letting go completely, and drives his head into the pillows. You squeeze his leg, giving him the next instruction in a calm voice. “Slow down, baby. Go nice and slow.”
He listens while feeling across your thigh, searching, whining, “Let me feel you, please.”
You stop him with a hand over his. It feels strange to deny him, but you’re so caught up in this moment that you don’t want to take away from it. You talk to him while he continues to touch himself, watching how he violently shudders through each stroke. “Not right now. Show me just how much you really want me. How desperate you are to have it. I want to see you come for me.”
He smiles while trying to calm his breathing, keeping his eyes shut. “Christ, I’m not gonna last long, baby. I’m so fucking close.”
You decide to crawl over him, sliding your body against his side. Bringing your lips to his ear, you whisper, “Come for me, Josh. Show me.”
That was the final push he needed, to be past the point of no return. You kiss along the shell of his ear, feeling the silver metal of his cuff and hoop against your lips. He soaks it in, losing himself in your praising words and soft caresseses. You watch from this new angle, looking down at how wraps his fingers around his cock, how fast he works himself — taking note of everything he likes.
He shakes through the last stroke of his fist and holds himself, cursing under his strained breath. You listen to the string of moans as he comes, seeing his warm release being painted across his bare stomach and dripping down his tattooed knuckles. He lays there still and silent, aside from his heavy breathing.
You’re stunned to say the least, breathing across his shoulder, “Wow.”
He swipes the cum from the head of his cock with his thumb, smearing onto his belly with the swipe of his wrist. He stretches out, melting into the mattress with his spent laughter filling the room. “Yeah…”
You nuzzle into his neck, taking in his scent as his breathing falls into a normal rhythm. After a few minutes basking in the silence, you finally break it. “Fleshlight, huh?”
He barks a harsh laugh. “I just know you’re not giving me shit you fucking peeper.”
“Hey, how was I supposed to know that’s what you were doing this early in the morning?”
He turns to you, biting back a shit-eating grin. “I don’t know, but do you expect anything less of me? I had to listen to you getting the soul fucked out of you last night. Give me a break, love.”
You hide the embarrassment showing on your face in your palms, pushing the groan through your fingers. “Okay, fair point.”
He laughs, throwing a teasing elbow before sitting up carefully and shimmying himself off the edge of the bed to stand on his feet. You decide to stay comfortable in your spot, watching while he cleans the mess on his stomach with the wipe of a few tissues.
You fully expect him to leave the bedroom and make his way into the bathroom, but he doesn’t. He walks over to his dresser, completely naked, and grabs a glass piece that’s been hidden behind other knick-knacks and clutter. The round base is a rich amber color with painted swirls and stripes of baby blue and pastel yellow, matching the top-half of the chamber.
Holding in his hand, he cracks his bedroom window open with the other to allow the morning breeze to flow into the space. He pops open a metal grinder, pinching the fluffy green between his fingers to start packing a fresh bowl.
You take the opportunity to look at him while he’s distracted with the task, noticing all the little details that might go missed any other time. You find yourself romanticizing the random tattoos covering the lower half of his body, the muscles of his stomach flexing as he breathes and stretches standing before you, even how his once-hard dick starts to soften between his legs with each passing second.
He searches for a lighter, shuffling through the contents littering the surface of the dresser. Before he takes his first hit, he sweeps his hand through his frizzy hair to brush it from his brow and takes a deep breath. Pressing his lips to the caramel-tinted glass, he burns the green with a pass of the flame as he pulls the smoke through the water — filling the room with the recognizable bubbling sound. Tucking the lighter into his fingers, he pulls the stem, clearing the smoke with a deep inhale.
He holds it in his chest for a few seconds before releasing the pungent smoke through a fit of coughs, laughing through each one when you tease him, “That’s a good look for you.”
He lets out another wheezy cough, wincing as he sucks in a harsh breath. “Peak male performance, baby.”
You giggle at him, sitting up in the bed. Whatever he’s smoking is strong, daring you to ask, “You’re not worried about the smell?”
He grins, flashing you that cheeky smile while he shrugs his shoulders. “Perks of being a homeowner I guess.”
He considers taking another hit, almost flicking the lighter until he stops himself and offers the glass to you with a tip of his hand and a raise of his brows.
You only hesitate for a second, accepting with a gentle nod when you remember that your shift starts later in the day.
He takes a step forward, tapping the foot of the bed with his free hand. “C’mere.”
It takes a couple scoots to get to the edge of the mattress so you’re seated in front of him. You cross your legs beneath you and get comfortable enough before he hands you the glass piece along with the white BIC lighter. The size and weight of it surprises you at first, so you rest it on your thigh to admire the intricate details. It’s surprisingly clean, giving you a clear view of the swirling percolator sitting inside the tube.
You spin it, pressing your lips against the glass rim before lifting the lighter to the bowl. His close presence makes you a little nervous since you’re not used to having such an attentive audience. The feeling doesn’t last long, because he reaches out and swipes the fallen hair from your face as you bring the flame to the scorched green. His fingers slip through your messy locks, rubbing along your scalp as you pull the smoke, tucking the fallen hair behind your ear.
You pull the stem, clearing the smoke from the chamber through the remainder of your breath. Before you have the chance to exhale after keeping it hostage in your lungs, he taps under your chin to bring your attention back to him. Once he has it, he then taps his lips, signaling to you that he wants a kiss.
The brush of his lips is soft and sweet against yours while the smoke you’re holding in your chest creates that itching feeling in the back of your throat. He deepens the kiss, parting your lips with his tongue enough for you to blow the hit into his waiting mouth. He breathes you in slowly, sealing the exchange with a final kiss.
He takes his time straightening to a standing position, plucking the piece from your hand as he blows out the smoke above you. He looks down at you through drowsy lids, groaning in a voice still raspy with sleep, “Well, I can finally say that I love watching you take a bong hit. Fuck, you’re so hot.”
He sets the bong on the dresser as a blush pricks your cheeks, adding to the swimming feeling already existing in your head. You huff a sharp laugh between your coughs, scoffing, “Shut up.”
He bites his bottom lip, dropping his face inches away from yours to whisper, “Never.”
His fingers skate across the smooth plane of your jaw until they disappear into your hair at the nape of your neck, tilting your mouth to meet him. He’s just as eager as minutes ago, licking across your bottom lip to taste you. You feel like you’re drifting away, allowing him to take you to a place where only the two of you exist. You wrap your fingers around his wrist to ground yourself, holding onto the earthy scent of weed that settles between you.
He guides you to your feet, pulling your sore, tired body into a tight embrace. His hands don’t stay in one place for two long, roaming across your exposed skin as if it’s been weeks since he’s seen you last. He grinds into you, causing the sharp edge of his hip bones to press into your stomach through the t-shirt. There’s nothing left to the imagination due to the lack of clothing, giving away that he’s ready to have you.
His hand follows suit, squeezing your ass with a roll of his fingers that have slipped under the boxers you’re wearing — a detail he doesn’t seem to notice — sending the stinging pain from your bruises into your conscience. You reluctantly break away, whimpering against his lips, “Josh…”
“Hmm?”
As much as you want it, you can’t ignore the fact that the last twenty-four hours have taken a toll on your body. Jake had more than satisfied you, but had also done a wonderful job at leaving the evidence across your skin and between your legs as a result. As much as it kills you to turn up the chance to feel the same with Josh, you ultimately turn him down. “I think I need to give my body a break.”
You fear you might disappoint him, but he just hums into another heavy sigh, placing a tender kiss on your cheek. “Of course, baby. Wanna shower with me?”
You nearly moan at the thought alone, picturing the hot water rolling across your aching muscles. “Oh my god, yes.”
He giggles, filling your ears with its pleasant sound until he eventually pulls away enough to look at you. “Good, because you smell like Jake’s cologne anyway.”
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Hey I’m 🌱🫖 Anon the one that asked for that detailed Brad Bakshi fic, and I wanted to ask if you are going to release it or if you don’t feel like writing it anymore (it’s totally fine either way) is mostly just to know.
Also I love how you have decorated your blog with a F1 theme. I’m a fellow F1 fan (since childhood) and I’m also Spanish so seeing that you have a Carlos profile picture always makes my day ☺️
-🌱🫖
crying lightning (unfinished/pt. 1)
Brad Bakshi was by no means a warm person. At least, not that you had thought until now.
pairing: brad bakshi x coworker reader [second person, no y/n]
warnings: a couple of cliches, fear of dark and thunderstorms, power outage, profanity, developing feelings. mostly fluff/comfort. brad is a little bit of an asshole, as expected (and now you’re caught up!), but not the whole time. one mention of c.w.
(unfinished) word count: 2.3k
a/n: based off of this request here! heyyyy 🌱🫖 anon, I really appreciated the request! hope you don’t mind I focused it more so on season one/two brad. sorry this took so long to post and I didn’t even get to finish it, I got caught up in the struggles of daily life smh 😔 but thank you so much for your patience, I might finish it if I get the motivation but at the moment I’m not sure… also yes I’m into f1 now!! I might write for some of the drivers if people really want that but I’m not sure since I’ve been very busy. let me know if you’d be interested in that!
Your keys clinked together as you locked the front door of your apartment. After that was done, you slipped them into your bag and began the ten-minute walk to work. The sounds of Los Angeles were blocked out by the headphones you wore, listening to music and podcasts as you crossed streets and walked along the pavement. People, although no more than faces and outfits, passed you every day on the same route you went to get to Mythic Quest headquarters. It felt like just another day.
“Fuuuuuuuck.” You groaned, slouching down and letting your head hit the desk with a thud. The rain was absolutely pouring outside, you could hear it.
Being on the writing team wasn’t as glamorous as you had hoped it would be. C.W., as much as you initially admired his works, was an incredibly lousy head writer. That was normal, but especially today, he or one of the other slightly psychotic department heads were extra adamant on making sure you couldn’t get any work done. Thus you’d needed to stay a little later than normal.
It was only an extra half hour to revise a rough draft and a couple storyboarding charts, you’d told yourself. That was before the rain started twenty minutes into those extra thirty minutes. If you had left on time, you would have been able to get home – and with time to spare! – without needing to get rained on. Since you’d waited, though, the rain started, and forced you to stay in the building until it dissipated. When you checked your phone that morning, the forecast was only clear and sunny. That was clearly not the case now. Locked in your workplace, you decided to continue working until you either finished or the rain stopped.
Back to the present moment, you had just finished the work you needed to do, but the rain hadn’t let up. It didn’t seem like it was going to any time soon, either. If anything, it sounded like it was getting worse. You sat up, leaning back into the rolling chair you had, and pressing your hands to your closed eyes in frustration.
“What are you still doing here?” It was almost like Brad could smell the despair emanating from your being.
Not expecting his sudden presence, you nearly jumped at the mere sound of his voice.
“Jesus Christ, Brad,” You abruptly pulled your hands away from your face and gripped the armrests of the chair. “Scared the shit out of me.”
He scoffed. “I try. But what are you doing here? Work ended an hour ago.”
“I could say the same for you.”
“Yeah, you could. But I asked first. And you still haven’t answered.”
You inhaled through your teeth before pursing your lips. “Okay, fine, I wanted to just finalize some stuff the writing team and I were working on today. Poppy and Ian wouldn’t leave me alone because they were having one of their little… piss fights and were bothering everyone to see who was ‘right.’ I wasn’t gonna stay for that long, but the rain clearly had other plans.” You halfheartedly gestured to the windows in the main room that showed the overcast sky and harsh rain happening outside.
Brad didn’t even bother looking behind him. “And, what? You don’t have a ride or something?”
You furrowed your brows at his response. “Dude. I literally walk to work every day. It’s easier because it’s not that far and I get to avoid the issues of traffic and having to park in the parking structure, you know? And the gas prices, have you seen that bullsh-”
“Yeah, yeah I get it, whatever. Just shut it. I didn’t come here to listen to you complain.” He waved a hand around aimlessly as he began to roll his eyes.
Neither of you said anything further for a moment, you just sat there watching as he studied the ground. If you hadn’t been looking at him, you wouldn’t have noticed the very subtle twitch of his eye and the little exasperated sigh he let out as he seemed to be weighing his options. He opened his mouth, but paused. Then he went on to speak.
“You don’t even have like a flimsy little umbrella or something? A raincoat? Nothing?” He hung his head slightly lower, talking with an air of disbelief.
“Does it look like it, Bakshi?” You held your hands up and swiveled around in the chair a little, glancing quickly around the room with furrowed brows. “If I had either of those I would have left already.”
“I don’t know what goes through your mind,” He scoffed again. “I’m not a lowly writer. I’m the HOMIE.”
You didn’t really have any words. You wanted to so desperately insult him but you knew he would easily be able to destroy you with less effort. Instead you opted for just biting your tongue.
“Whatever. I’ll probably just wait it out. Even if it means I have to sleep in my office.” You moved your chair closer to the desk and laid your forehead down, quietly groaning in defeat.
Although you couldn’t see him, you could tell Brad was fidgeting slightly from where he stood in the doorway. The rain pattered onto the pavement outside, but you could hear the slight rustle of whatever sweater he was wearing, the tapping of his shoe on the carpeted floor, the liquid he swirled around in his mug. Eventually he spoke.
“Did you…” He trailed off, clearly reluctant. “Did you need a ride?”
Your brows furrowed, again, against the cold desk. “Really?” You were in disbelief as you sat up in your chair. “The infamous Brad Bakshi, greedy, heartless bastard of MQ, offering to give a ‘lowly writer’ a ride? Is this real? Am I on a prank show? Where are the cameras?” You gave him an exaggerated gasp as you quickly whipped your head around the room and spun around in your chair.
“Do you want that car ride or not?” His blank expression said it all. Brad was not amused.
“Fine, fine, just let me get my stuff real quick.”
Brad walked briskly, not waiting for you to catch up as he practically sprinted through the staff parking structure. “Pick up the pace, writer.”
You grumbled little insults under your breath so he wouldn’t hear, and began walking faster to keep up. “Fine, ‘homie.’”
The two of you eventually got to his car. It was nothing too extravagant. Fairly generic, but sleek enough for his taste.
[I’m so sorry I don’t know or remember what car Brad drives/would drive – if anyone has an answer for this please hmu LMAO. I feel like it would be either silver, blue, or black (some of the most generic car colors but with somewhat deeper connection to him as a person/character).]
The inside smells faintly like an air freshener but more like something more comfortable and just there. Somewhat like dust, but not unpleasantly so. You get into the passenger seat as Brad gets into the driver’s. He hands you his phone, already open to a navigation app for you to put your address into. You begin doing so, but a weather advisory appears. At the same time, you can feel your own phone vibrate inside your bag, presumably giving you the same notice. “Harsh rain and possible storms in the general LA area. Staying home is recommended.” it read. Brad leans over a little, just to see the notification.
“Hm. Would have been nice to know before I left for work this morning.” You scoffed, a little weary but continuing to type your address before you gave him his phone back.
He took it and began the route, the two of you leaving the parking structure in silence. It was a little uncomfortable, you had to admit, but not for long.
“If you want music you can put something on. Just connect your phone with bluetooth.” Brad said softly.
It was unexpectedly quiet and gentle, a stark contrast to his normal brash demeanor.
“Oh, okay.”
You pressed some things on the dashboard, before connecting your phone and playing some of your favorite music. It didn’t seem like Brad had much of an opinion on it. Rain continued to patter on the windshield as the car was stagnant.
“Thanks, by the way.” You kind of blurted out, but it was genuine. “I forgot to say it earlier, but it means a lot.”
His response was brief. “It’s whatever.”
The temporary silence returned. Another buzz sounded from your phones. Rather than taking yours out, you just leaned over to look at Brad’s phone. Another notice, but this time a warning. “Expected storms within next twelve hours. Power outages in some areas of LA and southern California. It is advised to stay off the roads during this time frame.”
“Shit.” You murmured, clearly more worried now. “My apartment’s still another ten minutes away because of the traffic…”
“Yep.” Brad was still stoic.
“Hey, by the way, where do you live? Are you far away from here? ‘Cause I don’t want you to have to drive to my apartment and then all the way back if it’s like the opposite direction.”
“It’s like five minutes away from MQ.”
You were silent for a moment, out of disbelief. “What?”
“Yeah. I live five minutes away.”
“And you don’t just walk?”
“Nope.”
“Why not?”
“‘Cause.”
“God, Brad, you’re such a-”
“An environmentally apathetic asshole? Self-centered douchebag? Lazy bum? I’ve heard it all and I really couldn't care less.”
“Okay, but seriously, I don’t want you to, like, hydroplane and-or get into an accident on the way back to your place. You might as well just drop me off here and turn back now.”
Brad turned to you, an eyebrow raised and head cocked slightly to the side. “As ‘on-brand’ that would be for me, that’s an actual asshole move, and I don’t want your death to be on my hands if you get swept up and away by some random gust of wind.”
“Oh, wow, so he does have a heart.” You quipped.
Brad rolled his eyes again, looking out at the cars in front of you. “As much as I hate to admit it, yes, I do. All humans do, because it pumps blood throughout their fucking bodies. I thought you were smarter than this, writer.”
“You know what I mean. I’m not that much of a dumbass.”
“Really? I hadn’t noticed.”
“Oh, my god, just… shut up. Also are you not in any way worried about our current situation? We’re bound to get into an accident at this rate, we need to get to our places as soon as we possibly can.”
“Okay, well, the traffic to get to your apartment is still not clearing up, so if you’re so worried, I’ll drop you back off at MQ and then I’ll head to my house.”
You shook your head at the notion, groaning. “No, no, no, no, I can’t stay at MQ overnight…”
Brad turned back to look at you. A strange hint of a smile graced his lips as he scoffed.
“What happened to ‘I’ll wait the rain out even if it means I have to sleep at my desk?’”
You felt the heat of embarrassment rise up your neck and to your cheeks, turning away from him and facing the window to avoid eye contact. “I don’t know, I didn’t think I’d actually have to do it. Especially after you offered me a ride! And now we’re in the car, it seemed pretty unlikely that it would still be happening.”
For the first time in you ever knowing him (your two years at MQ), Brad Bakshi laughed. It wasn’t one of his sarcastic chuckles, nor a strained noise, but a genuine laugh. You had a puzzled look on your face, and whipped your head around to see him. His eyes were shut, he was slightly hunched over, and his smile was clear as day. He continued to laugh–presumably at you–but for once, you didn’t mind. The sight was a joy to see. Sure, Brad was an asshole, but he had his moments. A smile of your own crept its way onto your face as you watched him laugh for a few seconds longer. As his laughter wound down, a sudden crack of lightning flashed across the sky, a rumble of thunder following immediately after, startling the both of you.
“Shit!” You hissed, jumping in your seat. “Okay, okay, we really need to get to safety, like… now. This shit is actually dangerous, Brad. I don’t want you getting injured or worse because of my lack of preparation. If you really need to drop me off at the office on your way to your place, that’s… fine.”
Although unhappy that the start of your weekend would be ruined by having to sleep over in your office building, you figured it would be better than causing Brad to get stuck in the storm. You awaited his response, once again watching him as he thought for a moment.
Suddenly, he let out a quiet groan, tilting his head down, leaning his forehead lightly against the wheel. “I can’t believe I’m about to offer this to you, of all people, but if you’re so god damn worried about my safety… I have a guest room at my house.”
His sudden generosity confuses and delights you. It’s strange, that’s for sure, but it’s a welcome surprise.
“Really?”
“Why else would I have said it?” It was a question but it came out as more of a statement.
“I don’t know, it’s just… weird. Not to say that I don’t accept, but it’s oddly kind of you. Not something commonly associated with the image of Brad Bakshi.”
He shrugged. “I know. So do you accept or not?”
“I do, thank you so much.” You spoke quickly, hoping he wouldn’t rescind the offer. “I’m sorry to cause you so much inconvenience.”
“I’m sorry too. I’m sorry you’re so dumb that you didn’t prepare a way back home.”
“Oh, my god.”
#tea writes#🌱🫖 anon#brad bakshi x reader#brad bakshi#mythic quest#mq#apple tv#danny pudi#abed nadir#abed nadir x reader#sorry those last two are kind of clickbait but I need reach#x reader#mythic quest fanfiction#mythic quest x reader#mq x reader#fanfiction#fanfic#mythic quest fanfic
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The Night Moves | Part Four
The Night Moves Masterlist
Alternate Universe
Vampire Hunterl!Bradley Bradshaw x Female Reader; Vampire!Jacob Seresin x Female Reader
Summary: An internship with the Smithsonian’s National Museum of American History should have been the highlight of your academic career. The perfect addition to your resume while you worked on your doctoral thesis. An interdepartmental assignment, however, sees your reality ripped apart by incomprehensible forces. Five tumultuous days will leave you forever changed and inextricably linked to two men born centuries apart.
Warnings: Angst, Language, Violence, Blood, Major Character Death, Serious Reader Injury, Supernatural Themes, Historical Inaccuracies, Institutional Inaccuracies, Mature/Explicit Themes - 18+ Only
Author's Note: My Halloween party got crashed by COVID so surprise! Here is the second-last installment a few days early. Please be advised that two men go into this chapter and only one makes it out. You Have Been Warned!!
Word Count: 3933
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-Friday-
Waking the next morning to news of more murders in the neighborhood, it was no surprise that Bradley had insisted on driving you into work. It had not made the drive any less awkward, however. Loaded silence pervaded the apartment while you ate a quick breakfast and followed you into the Bronco until he had eventually surrendered to turning on the radio. You had parted with a barely audible ‘thanks’ at the curb before hurrying into work, not wanting to spend another moment in forced to be in his proximity. Tears had already broken through your resolve after you shut the bedroom door last night and you would have been loathe to give him the satisfaction of seeing fresh ones today.
Despite your intentions when declining Amira’s invite the night before, you had not taken that bath nor gone to bed early. Nor had your sleep been of any quality. Thankfully she arrived armed with an extensive make-up kit, nearly double the size of the one you had thrown into your bag that morning, and dedicated nearly all of the thirty minutes you had to get ready on making you look quite presentable. The bandage on your wrist was explained away easily as a cooking accident, though as Bradley predicted, it itched terribly. Utilizing the single-stalled washroom across the hall, you slid into the floor-length gown she had lent you, smoothing it over your curves.
You took a moment to appreciate the way the colour of it brought out your eyes. To marvel at the skill of Amira’s make-up. You looked good – vampire hunters plagued by latent professionalism be damned. Taking a deep breath and setting your chin at a confident angle you stepped out of the washroom to allow Amira a chance to change as well before the pair of you hurried to Flag Hall. Waiting there for you was the box of five hundred pouches, ready to be set out at each of the place settings on the banquet tables. Under the watchful eye of Caroline from Resource Development, one pouch was set at the top of each place, resting against the menu card, until three hundred and fifty were put out. The remainder would be given as gifts to the staff volunteering their time and a few select guests attending the cocktail hour but not staying for the seated dinner.
With that duty discharged, you were then seated at the registration table, assigned to different portions of the alphabet. You were responsible for checking in guests with last names from S to Z. The next forty-five minutes passed in a blur of greetings and checking off names before the four lists were consolidated down to one. You and Amira were released from your obligations to go enjoy the remainder of the cocktail party and she quickly disappeared into the crowd.
Snagging a glass of one from one of the circling trays, you took a fortifying sip of wine before seeking out someone you knew, grateful when one of the department heads pulled you into a conversation already in progress with a few generous donors. Disappointingly, you found your tolerance for answering the same questions, discussing the same topics, having the same conversation repeatedly as you circulated the room wore thin with shocking speed. Instead, a scream began to build in the back of your throat, begging to be unleashed, and you set your second empty wine glass down on a nearby table with a touch more force than intended before quickly making your way from the hall.
Because whatever was about to fly out of your mouth – the truth that Bradley had revealed to you last night, or perhaps your sheer frustration with him for his lack of transparency whilst toying with your affections, or better yet how frivolous this gala felt in the face of the dead bodies that seemed to be falling in your wake…well more accurately Jacob’s wake as he followed you – it most certainly did not need an audience.
Making your way through the locked doors with your swipe card back to the sanctity of your workspace, you felt the urge to wail lessen the further you got away from the crowd. The frantic pace of your steps eased. Perhaps it was just time to go home. Sighing the last of the tension from your body, you opened the door to the intern office and nearly tripped over your dress as the long-legged lieutenant sat, swivelling idly in your computer chair.
“Ah.” He grinned broadly and stood smoothly, obviously having been waiting for you. His eyes raked over your form as he drank in your appearance. “You look truly divine this evening, pet.”
Stumbling backward, you winced as the harsh edges of the door frame jabbed into your shoulder blade. “What are you doing in here…how did you…” Your pulse rabbited in your throat as it felt terribly difficult to take a deep breath. His clothing had changed – a dress shirt that fit him perfectly, hinting at the musculature that lay beneath, and a pair of black slacks with a charcoal grey pea coat hanging open over top. No doubt stolen from one of the many corpses he had been leaving in your neighborhood, your mind supplied, causing your palms to grown damp with fear.
“Easy, pet, I missed you. There is no need to be quite so afraid.” Jacob soothed, stepping closer.
You shook your head violently. “I know what you are.” You hissed and pressed tighter to the door frame, away from him, legs wobbling slightly beneath your dress. You glanced behind him to your desk where your phone was locked away in a drawer…Bradley might as well have been on the moon for how easily you could reach him now. Yet thinking of your usual savior also brought with it a new bitterness that had you furrowing your brows.
“Then you know what I want.” Jacob murmured, stalking closer to trail a frigid forefinger down your cheek.
Your eyes flicked to his face, focusing on his unnaturally luminous green eyes as you swallowed nervously. “Were,” you began, hesitated, but set your jaw in determination and continued, “were you really there?”
He arched an eyebrow, silently prompting you to expound on your question.
“During the War of Independence?” You clarified, sinking your teeth into your lower lip anxiously as he was awfully close and more than a little lethal.
His eyes glinted ominously as he seized upon something you desired. “I most certainly was. Born in 1760, came of age in the thick of it. Why do you ask?” He tilted his head in feigned innocence.
You exhaled shakily, trying desperately to smother your excitement at the idea of a firsthand source for a long passed historical era. Yet as you attempted to focus on Bradley’s warning that the man who had lived through that time period had been murdered to give birth to the creature before you, all you felt was the sting of his rejection. The questions you longed to pose to the lieutenant were endless. Right before you was a once in a lifetime opportunity to learn from someone who had been there.
“You are fairly teeming with questions, are you not, pet?” There was a derogatory edge to his tone. A smugness at having sniffed out something you desired. “The information only I could provide would certainly be quite the feather in your cap. Surely would secure your place within this palace of stolen things.” He smirked, drawing your gaze to his striking white teeth.
Reluctantly, you nodded, lips pressed together tightly in a thin line. “Yes.” You admitted in a hushed whisper after a moment.
“It seems to me, darling, that we have an opportunity before us. There is something that I greatly desire from you…” He paused, eyes taking a moment to drink in the column of your throat. “…and you in kind from myself. Shall we not make a deal?” He raised an eyebrow.
Alarm bells rung distantly in your consciousness as your hands fisted into the fabric of your dress, awareness of his true nature warring with the desire to learn all that you could from him. A war taking place on an internal battlefield muddled by whatever mental impairment his very presence seemed to inflict upon you. The sound of a door opening down the hall jarred both of you and he looked to you sharply.
“Might we take this somewhere more private?” He asked hurriedly.
“Not my house.” You replied reflexively, able to keep some sense of clarity and recall Bradley’s insistence from the night before. “A hotel.” You nodded to yourself before pushing off the doorframe, past the lieutenant, and toward your desk.
Grabbing a fresh notebook, your phone, extra charger, and shoving it all into your bag, you threw on your jacket before leading him out the delivery entrance. Purposefully avoiding any and all prying eyes – particularly Bradley’s. As you walked, you retrieved your phone to pull up a hotel booking site, snagging a last-minute deal on a room a few blocks away. It was by no means glamorous – a dated, two-star hotel, but all you needed was a place to make a deal with a murderous creature. You did not need to also break the bank to do it.
Fog swirled around the hem of your dress with each step you took as you glanced around nervously, for once hoping not to see any trace of Bradley Bradshaw. The humidity had combined with the frigid air to create an unsettling ambience and the fact that a murderer was following hot on your heels did nothing to ease your tension. You were surprised the grip you held on the pen whilst signing in at the hotel did not cause the writing implement to snap in half. The front desk clerk, mercifully, made no comment on the absence of any and all luggage, handing over the room key with no more than directions to the elevators.
The key chain bearing the room number jangled in your hand as you struggled to align it with the lock, eventually sliding it home and opening the door to a cramped, musty room with a queen size bed and small desk. Jacob slid out of his jacket, finding a hanger in the tiny closet to place it on before reaching a hand out in silent offer to do the same with yours.
You shook your head quickly in refusal and stepped over to the desk, pulling out the chair and perching on the edge of it apprehensively. Jacob chuckled easily and sat on the edge of the bed across from you. The polyester coverlet printed with a patchwork design popular from several decades previous made an aggravating swish sound against his trousers.
“Your terms?” He smirked, clearly at ease as he planted his hands behind his hips, leaning back with casual arrogance.
“Answer my questions. Truthfully.” Came your immediate reply. “As many as I can think of….”
“Within a three-hour time limit.” He countered, eyes narrowing playfully, clearly enjoying himself.
You chewed your lip, briefly concerned it would not be enough time, but the volume of questions that had been welling up inside you would ensure it would be used wisely.
You nodded before asking, “and yours?” loathing the tremble in your voice, even though you were pretty certain what he wanted.
“Let me drink my fill of you…” His voice was thick, roughened by desire, his gaze intense as he spoke.
Your throat constricted nervously, and you swallowed to clear it. “You cannot kill me…” You protested.
“No of course not.” His face took on a mask of tenderness. “What a terrible waste that would be pet…just enough to satisfy.” He assured you.
You sat on the poorly cushioned chair eyeing him warily, heart still beating at quite a steady clip as the potential terms of your agreement hung in the air, awaiting your assent. The factors at play paraded through your hindered consciousness – the danger of him, the opportunity of him, the mix of pain and pleasure offered in his bite. Your hand strayed to your inner wrist absently, scratching futilely through the bandage there. His eyes flickered down to follow the movement, lips stretching wider into a knowing grin.
Blinking in confusion you glanced down to where his gaze was aimed and huffed in frustration at yourself before thrusting your hand out to him to shake. “Deal.”
With a bemused grin he took your hand in his, grip as cold as marble as he shook in agreement.
“I would also hazard a guess that you need some food before we begin, pet? Need you to keep up your strength.” He grinned as he settled back against the headboard, legs stretched out before him.
You frowned slightly as you realized he was right – two glasses of wine and a few canapes were not going to sustain you. Rifling around on the desk you found a room service menu and called down to order the most appetizing thing they had on offer. Plugging your phone into charge, you opened the fresh notebook and started an audio recording in an app. Your last step was to set a timer for one hundred and eighty minutes before looking to the lieutenant.
“Ready?”
“Whenever you are, pet.” He nodded.
Pressing start on your timer, you asked your first question. The question that had been burning in your mind since you had first examined the artifacts three days ago. “Why did you have a coat from both sides?”
“Made my life easier. I could go wherever I wanted, do what I needed to, wearing the colours of convenience.” He answered with open honesty as you began scrawling into your notebook.
You were relieved that he was upholding his side of the bargain and yet felt an increased nervousness at the idea of having made a deal with a man without loyalties.
“What did you do during the war?”
“Joined up, of course. A group of us enlisted in the South Carolina Continental Army shortly after Independence was declared. My father was proud, my mother was less than pleased given than I was only sixteen, but we were caught up in the political fervor, desperate to join the fight that had been brewing for years. I could already shoot better than most of the recruits, and I was good with horses. It was easy to get a promotion to lieutenant. Especially when our soldiers were dropping like flies.” His tone took on an edge of bitterness that had you glancing up from your notes, but he was gazing off toward some unseen memory at the end of the bed.
“It was becoming increasingly apparent that were severely disadvantaged, particularly when it came to our leadership. The great Washington did not make his way south of Virginia, you see, we were left to fend for ourselves in an increasingly desperate fight against a superior enemy. By 1780 Charlestown had fallen to the British and I had no more interest in dying for a lost cause. I fled my post, made my way into the city to make a living off of my connections and the occupying troops desperate for the finer things that were hard to come by.”
A memory of the ledger found inside the sarcophagus, filled with its neat rows of items and prices, flitted through your mind and you swallowed. “A smuggler.”
“Some called me that, yes.” Jacob chuckled, looking to you with a shrug. “I was no longer killing people, my life was more comfortable, how could it not be considered an improvement for everyone involved?”
A knock on the door, signalling the arrival of your food, startled you into scratching a jagged line of ink along the margin of your notebook. Exhaling shakily, you stood to go retrieve the tray, finding some loose bills in your bag to tip the porter, before carrying the food in and setting it on the desk. Finding the small room overly warm, you shrugged out of your coat at last, not missing the way Jacob’s eyes traced every inch of skin revealed to him by the action.
“Where did you grow up?” You asked your next question, hoping to divert his attention and not waste any more time than you already had.
Alternating between taking notes and eating bites of your rapidly cooling food, you covered all manner of topics from his upbringing to the ins-and-outs of eighteenth-century smuggling. Your notebook grew increasingly full, the pages curling slightly from your frantic shorthand highlighting thoughts and ideas born from his answers, not wanting to miss any details even though you knew it was also being recorded.
“How did you become a vampire?” You asked just as your alarm chimed and you frowned in dismay. How could three hours have passed already…
“I will give you that one, pet, because I am a man of honor.” He swung his legs over the side of the bed, sitting up to face you properly. “My trade had me working with all manner of people, procuring all sorts of items. That is where I first encountered the children of the night. I provided them with what I thought was traditional evening entertainment, but they were soon having me disposing of the leftover pale corpses with ravaged throats. After much persuasion they promised me eternal life…” He laughed bitterly.
“I had barely paid the price of high-value Continental Army information – no sooner had I been turned when the ancestors of your handsome Bradley,” you breath hitched in your throat and his eyes flashed with irritation “showed up for all of us. They promised me a way out, passage back to England. They locked me in that box with my consent. With the understanding that I would be freed as soon as I was aboard a ship out of this place. But instead, I lay there forgotten, my veins running dry, rasping against my skin until I could no longer keep my eyes open. Until a few days ago when your sweet blood fell upon my lips, bringing me back. Now,” his eyes darkened as he stood, looming over you, “you have had your fun. It is my turn.”
He leaned forward, lips parted, baring elongated fangs as he prepared to bite your neck, but you planted a firm hand against his chest, pen still threaded through your fingers. “Wait…s…somewhere it can’t be seen….” You pleaded shakily.
He pulled back with a growing smirk before sinking to his knees before you, fingers seeking the skin of your ankles beneath your dress. He chuckled as you jumped slightly at his cool touch, watching with bated breath as his hands rose up your legs, the hem of your dress gathering at his wrists. Your hands fell to clutch at the arm rests of the chair as he eased your knees apart, inhaling your scent greedily. You could feel each rapid beat of your heart lodged in your throat, shifting slightly at the feel of warmth gathering at the apex of your thighs, certain Jacob was more than aware of the effect his proximity was having on your traitorous body as he grew ever closer to that warmth.
With one final glance up at you he at last turned his head to sink his fangs into the supple flesh of your inner thigh. Your head fell back between your shoulders with a ragged moan, one which he echoed against your skin, your body trembling in response. A mixture of pain and pleasure rocketed through your body as he began to feed, drawing your blood from the bite wound, making you writhe beneath him. A dark chuckle rumbled through his chest as his hands moved to pin your hips, holding you in place as he swallowed greedily.
Gradually your grip on the arms of the chair weakened, the beat of your heart dropped to a normal tempo before becoming sluggish beneath your rib caged. Rolling your head forward, you feebly tried to push his mouth away, afraid he was drinking too much. The lieutenant did not budge, eyes closed in ecstasy, fingers digging into your hips almost painfully, as he continued to drink.
“Jacob…” You whimpered weakly. “We…had a deal…” You panted in an odd cocktail of frantic languidness.
A terrific thud suddenly collided with the door, but you barely had the wherewithal to flinch in reaction. It was followed by several more before the door frame gave away with the horrific screech of protesting metal and wood. Through heavy eyelids you watched a slightly winded Bradley Bradshaw hurtle into the room, his eyes quickly taking in the scene – Jacob’s position between your legs, your inability to lift your own head. In a swift movement blurred by your weakened state, he was suddenly grasping a stake in his fist, his knuckles gone white from the force with which he held the weapon. Jacob, meanwhile, remained suctioned to your flesh like an overgrown leech, oblivious to all around him.
Bradley wasted no time, drawing his arm back to gain momentum before powerfully driving the stake into Jacob’s back between his ribs. His head snapped up from your thigh with a roar, mouth and neck painted with your blood as he stumbled to his feet, reaching back for the intruding object. With one final blow of his palm to the hilt of the stake, Bradley drove the point of the wood straight through Jacob’s heart. The dying vampire gave a pathetic gasp before his entire being suddenly disintegrated before your very eyes.
Leaving you staring in lethargic shock, Bradley stepped into the tiny washroom that could barely contain his frame and gathered a towel and robe from, returning to press the rough fibres of the towel against the tender flesh. You yelped pathetically, pushing at him weakly as tears pricked your eyes. You did not have the energy to determine if they were tears of shame or tears of sadness for the pile of dust now on the carpet that had very recently been the lieutenant.
“You killed him.” You breathed faintly.
“He was killing you.” Bradley replied sharply, punctuating his statement by pulling the towel tightly around your thigh with the belt of the robe, tying a secure knot in the terrycloth.
You flinched in pain before gulping as he pulled the hem of your dress down over your legs to preserve your modesty. You vision was beginning to narrow as he leaned down to retrieve his stake, tucking it into the inside pocket of his jacket before moving to lift you into his arms, all brisk efficiency. His ability to find you in a hotel with over two hundreds of rooms, in a city full of dozens of hotels, was a puzzle you might not ever be able to solve. Least of all now with your rapidly dimming consciousness.
“Wait!” You channeled the last of bit of effort within your body towards catching his attention. “My stuff…” You gestured listlessly at your phone and notebook, wanting at the very least for this to have not been all for naught.
“You historians are really something else.” He replied gruffly before sweeping your things into your bag, hanging it from his shoulder before scooping you up, his supernatural strength making it a thing of ease as he hurried for the elevator.
“Where we goin’….” Your head lolled forward against his chest, shivering against the radiant heat of his body, barely able to form the words.
“Hospital.” He grunted before everything faded to black.
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Read Part Five
The Night Moves Masterlist
Tag list: @moonyinthestars, @roger-that-cap, @gaminffnerd, @blckgrl-sunflower
#top gun maverick fanfiction#rooster x reader#hangman x reader#bradley bradshaw x reader#jake seresin x reader#rooster x you#hangman x you#bradley bradshaw x you#jake seresin x you#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader#jake hangman seresin x reader#vampire au#vampire hunter au
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