#hands in hair how do you fumble your own series so bad LIKE A SETTING SET IN HELL GOES HARD AND YOU MESSED IT UP!?!? and the worst part is | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

velvetydream · 3 months

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꒰ :🥀 [ Second chances ] ”♡ᵎ꒱ˀˀ ↷ ⋯

Summary : Lucifer didn't think he would ever have the chance at love again, but then he met you and got to know you after the destruction of the Hotel.

Pairing : Lucifer x Reader

Word count : 2239 Words

Genre : Fluff, Romance

Warnings ➵ Spoilers for EP 8!!

a/n : I love him sm, he deserves the world, a big hug and a smooch to the cheek

Also legit the first part of this barely has any interactions but eh- idk where I was going with this-

Might make this into a series, idk yet.. Also definitely one of my more boring and bad works sadly..

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Coming back to the hotel from an outing in the city, you were met with chaos. Everyone was running around, Razzle and Dazzle were hanging up a banner reading > Welcome Daddy < what was happening? Ducking your head as Sir Pentious darts past you, before making your way over to Charlie.

"Sweetheart, what's happening?" Laying your hand softly on Charlie's shoulder, her hair flies around as she comes to face you. You were one of the first people to join the hotel back then, having grown close to Charlie over that time, she viewed you as a parent figure, while you viewed her like a daughter. "My dad is coming and everything has to be perfect! He has to be assured he can trust me and help me!" That explained a lot, especially why Charlie was so stressed. Pulling her into a hug now, your hand softly gliding over her head, as you mutter how she should not stress too much and that she is doing amazing. Noticing how her body was relaxing against your own, you were glad to have calmed her down at least a little bit.

After helping the others a bit more, it was finally time. Charlie swept her hands on her jacket, before opening the door. A bright choice sounding, as Lucifer pulls his daughter into a tight hug. Before saying hello to Keekee, Razzle and Dazzle. He was.. different than everyone probably though.

Watching Alastor talk to Lucifer now, they for sure could not stand the other one, this would be fun. Charlie now introduced Vaggie to him, which made you smile a little bit when Lucifer took her into his arms. The rest was quickly introduced before Charlie pulled you beside her. "And this is Y/N, Dad! They really helped me a lot already, of course like anyone else here too!" Fumbling around with her words a bit, you softly lay your hand on Charlie's shoulder. "We know what you mean dear, Charlie is an amazing girl, we are really proud of her." Your eyes were on Charlie, before greeting Lucifer correctly.

It was quiet for a second before a crash could be heard. Oh shit.. For a few minutes, the banter between Alastor and Lucifer continued on, making you sigh as you sat down beside Angel. This way going great huh? Vaggie was also at the end of her nerves right now. As they were seemingly coming to an end finally, the doors slammed open and some short blonde lady walked in as if she owned this place. Being introduced to her soon, you decide to tag along with Charlie and the others to show her dad around.

You were simply following the others, listening to Charlie nervously ramble on, only glancing over your shoulder for a second as Husker stopped Alastor, but you decided to not give it another thought.

Arriving at the balcony, you and Vaggie stand back, as Charlie and her dad talk. But too soon they were interrupted as some debris was thrown into the hotel and shook the whole building. Rushing through the portal, you guys are back in the foyer of the hotel, looking around for an answer. Mimzy the woman from before finally explained what was happening, you rolled your eyes, how amazing. Too busy with making sure you saw everyone safe, you weren't seeing the debris falling your way. Before you knew it you were swept off your feet, as Lucifer saved you from being smashed by the debris, setting you down on your feet again softly, as his wings disappear again.

"You see now Charlie what I mean? Those sinners destroy everything! They fall into your home and destroy it, they aren't grateful for anything!" Talking to Charlie now, as Alastor finally decided to step in and fight off those damned loan sharks, before telling the woman to disappear. Watching Charlie and her dad now, as you were standing beside Alastor, a frown visible on your face. She worked so hard for this, why couldn't he believe in her? Though quickly everything explained itself and both of them seemed to finally makeup, a tear slipping from your eye from how beautiful this moment was.

"All right.. I'll get you that meeting but.. once in heaven you're alone I.. can't come with you." Lucifer told Charlie, before disappearing in a red cloud.

That was now a month ago. Right now everyone was getting ready for that damned extermination. Sadly Charlie's conversation with Heaven didn't do anything, on top of that the tension in the whole group grew, with Vaggie being an old exterminator. But that was all over now, as the whole group decided to have one last drink the night before the big battle. You were talking with Husker, as Angel was with Cherri, Alastor and Niffty looking upon everyone and Charlie with Vaggie nowhere to be seen. And of course, Sir Pentious trying to strike up a conversation with Cherri. You hoped everything would go well tomorrow and that no one would die.

The morning arrived, and everyone was gathered outside to protect the hotel, to protect Charlie's dream. Everyone was ready for this.

Almost everything seemed to go down in a wink, the hotel was in shambles, Alastor was missing - assumingly dead, Sir Pentious gave his life for the group and Adam was killed. Now the rebuild of the hotel was in full swing, everyone was helping, even Cherri who wasn't even a resident of the hotel yet. Lucifer also stayed to help his daughter and somehow convinced her to let him have a room too and stay with the group.

"Have you seen Charlie? Some new shipments came." The blonde was approaching you now, his coat and hat off, sleeves pushed up to his elbows. Raising to your feet from where you were kneeling to work on some nails, you swept some sweat from your forehead before turning to Lucifer. "She and Vaggie went to town real quick for some errands, but she told me where to put them, let me show you." Laying the hammer down on one of the many workbenches, you go accept the shipments, before showing Lucifer the way.

You and him had quite a few conversations over the last few days, with you being a parent figure for Charlie and him being her father, you two talked a lot about how well she is doing. What you didn't notice were the fleeting glances the king of hell threw your way every now and then.

"She told me to just put it here." Opening the door to a little cabinet now on the first floor of the hotel in the foyer. This was the first thing finished, right now the works were on the upper rooms. Putting down the box you were carrying on the shelf, Lucifer followed where you put the other box, before thanking you for helping him out. "Soo.. The hotel is coming together rather nicely huh?" Looking over to you with his red eyes now, as you close the door, a bit confused he was striking up a conversation right now. "Yeah, everyone is doing so amazingly, I'm glad we got so much help.. If we don't look at Niffty punching holes in the new floor trying to catch roaches.." At least some things were apparently not changing and stayed the same.

"Say.. when the hotel is finished would you perhaps.. you know.. maybe.. be interested in a date?" Stopping in your tracks now, you blink a few times. Did you just hear correctly? The Lucifer Morningstar, the king of hell just asked you for a date? Turning your head around now, your cheeks slowly become a crimson-red color. Looking at him, he didn't really look different, his cheeks red, as he was sheepishly playing with his sleeves. "You want to go on a date with me?" Raising his eyes to meet yours, he simply nods. "To be honest with you, you caught my eye the day I first came here but.. then all this happened and we never really got to talk and I was worried you would think I'm weird for asking, so I thought I should maybe wait a bit-" He was rambling on, probably from how nervous he was to ask you out. After his ex-wife left him, he didn't really date anyone after that, so it's been a while since he has ever asked someone for a date. "I would love to. Thank you for asking me." Laying your hand softly over his, giving it a soft reassuring squeeze to tell him not to worry too much. Sadly the moment was cut short, when Angel called for you, having someone questions about about paint.

Lucifer's eyes followed you now, the smile on his face not being able to be hidden now, fist-pumping the air happily over how he finally asked you. Charlie came back that moment and looked a little bit more than worried at her father, but overall no new behavior from him.

The hotel was soon finished, Alastor also came back, making at least Charlie relieved that he was still alive, Husker and Lucifer didn't seem so pleased with that fact, but they would get over it.

So now, it was time for your date with Lucifer. Charlie was thrilled when she heard you would be going on a date with her dad, at first you were rather worried about how she would react, but she was happy that her dad was trying to find love again. Making sure your hair was sitting right and your clothes were wrinkle-free, when a knock sounded at your door. Taking one last breath, you open it and are met with Lucifer. His hat was gone and he was wearing a white suit, similar to what he normally wore but more suitable for a fancy dinner - as fancy as a dinner in hell can be.

"You look amazing! Oh my! Look at you!" Lucifer was throwing compliments at you left and right, before he caught himself again, straightened his jacket, and then extended his arm for you to take. "Thank you, you also look amazing tonight Lucifer." Taking his arm now, he guides you two to the elevators which take you down to the foyer. Charlie was trying subtly to look at you two, but failing miserably. "Charlie is staring at us and almost crying.." Whispering to Lucifer now, he just nods, making sure to throw Vaggie a begging look to take care of Charlie, as you two leave the hotel. He decided to take you to the more finer side of Pentagram City, where rather expensive shops and restaurants were and which were less bloody.

"Here we are! It's the finest one I know around here!" Leading you inside, it was a big place. The restaurant had a fountain in the middle and had many plants all around the wide place. Marble floors, stone walls were adorned with gold elements and gold was seen all throughout the place. This was definitely an expensive place by the looks of it. A waiter leading you to a table no, you were sure was the best one in the whole restaurant. It was by a wide window, having a good look down the city, in the distance you could even see the hotel slightly, especially the big sign reading Hazbin Hotel.

"This place is beautiful but.. it looks rather expensive, are you sure this is okay?" Of course you knew who Lucifer was and he could basically afford anything in this whole city and do anything he wanted, you just wanted to make sure. Assuring you now that you shall not worry about something like that. Ordering food and enjoying the meal together, it was a nice evening. Everything goes by smoothly and you and Lucifer finally get around to know each other better. Sadly the dinner was over too quickly, Lucifer leading you back to the hotel now, while telling you a story from Charlie's childhood, which made you giggle. He truly was a gentleman and had a pure heart, he cared so much about Charlie.

"So.. would you.. repeat this another time? I mean only if you also enjoyed it! I of course did enjoy it! I mean you're amazing and-" Standing in front of your room now, you silence him with a soft kiss to the cheek, before looking at him softly fixing his suit. "I would love to Luci, I enjoyed this evening with you alot." Raising your eyes again to meet his, you can't help but let out a giggle at his expression. Eyes blown wide, mouth open and cheeks blazing red. "Great! Yeah! Woah! Me too! Especially the food, poah that was amazing! And the place was really worth it! Was it to your liking? I really hope so because-" Pulling him down by his suit now, your lips softly meeting his, eyes closed, before seperating again as you look at him. "Sorry.. You were rambling so nervously.. Please don't worry, I mean it when I say loved tonight.. Now sleep well Luci." Planting another kiss to his cheek, you enter your room, closing the door behind yourself.

You can help but smile at his little giggles as he skips down the hallway to his own room now. He was something, but you were looking forward to more dates that would follow this one.

#hazbin #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin imagine #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x y/n #lucifer #hazbin lucifer #lucifer morningstar #lucifer x reader #hazbin lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer imagine #hazbin lucifer imagine #lucifer magne #lucifer magne x reader

3K notes · View notes

bubblyhoney · 3 years

Text

win for me

warnings: lAnGuAgE, alcohol consumption (both reader and all other characters are of age to drink), marijuana use, Making Out™️, a miniscule Flowers from 1970 reference. PSA: WHEN UR INTOXICATED AND/OR AT A PARTY, TELL UR FRIENDS WHO YOU WILL BE WITH AND WHERE YOU WILL BE AT ALL TIMES. DRINK AND PARTY SAFELY!

tags: sapnap x fem!reader

summary: a collection of moments throughout the beginning of your relationship

words: 5000

A/N: even though this isn’t my most organized or perfect fic this was so incredibly fun to write. and it’s a college!au!! one of my favs. hope you guys like!! let's pretend the pandemic doesn't exist for this one too (please wear ur masks btw)

Sophomore Year:

Smells like shit in here is your first thought upon entering the laundromat.

It does, in all honesty. What would you expect a place where college students wash three months of dirty clothes and comforters with vomit to smell like? Urine and just a hint of marijuana, incidentally. The door closes noisily behind you and a guy in a black baseball hat turns his head at the noise. Half of his face is hidden underneath the shadow of his scruff and he says nothing, but you still offer an obligatory polite-stranger smile. The place is pretty deserted, what for it being nearly 4 in the morning. And you’re a rare kind of customer; only a few things to wash and you brought your own detergent.

There’s an empty washer next to an old woman in an acid-trip of a parka, and you sweep past the few other patrons with your mesh bag close. The man in the hat nods at you as you pass, looking up from his phone.

Okay. Dark load in one and delicates in the other, you remind yourself. The quarters get pushed through the slot (not without dropping three and having to scramble to pick them up before they disappear between the machines) and you fill the dispensers with a flowery laundry detergent your roommates hates. Oh, and the clothes go in. Done. You relax into a cracked plastic booth around the corner of the machine, pulling a book of crosswords from your bag.

Somebody yelps halfway through filling out a five letter word (“a series of thoughts, images, and sensations occurring in a person's mind during sleep”) and you jump. Baseball Cap rips open the dryer, fumbling around and supplying a pair of gray sweatpants. You can’t help but watch. He digs through both front pockets, pulling out a wad of dollar bills. He sighs, shoves the pants back into the dryer, and starts it with a hard push.

“Gut feeling?” You ask. He looks around for a second and settles his gaze upon you. Nice eyebrows, you think.

“Yeah,” he laughs, slightly nervous. “Yeah. I wore them yesterday and just remembered I put some tip money in my pocket.” Leaning back onto the shelf behind him, he shoves his phone into his pocket and folds his arms tight to his chest.

“I feel you,” you empathize, and set down your pencil. “I washed a parking ticket with my underwear last week.”

He stutters out a laugh, nodding.

“That must’ve sucked,” he adds.

“Yeah.” You shrug. “I wasn’t going to pay it anyways, but would’ve been nice to keep it for memory’s sake.” Rubbing at your knee offhandedly, you just watch him. He’s cute. And easy to make conversation with.

“Hey, um,” he mutters and clears his throat. “Do you by chance know some guy named Karl? Tall, messy brown hair and a horrible laugh?”

You open your mouth, then close it.

“Actually—,” you start but huff out a laugh. “Yeah, he’s uh, he’s dating my roommate. Why’d you ask?”

Reaching a hand to rub at his neck, his face twists into something sheepish.

“I’ve seen you at some parties this semester. I didn’t mean to sound creepy like that— I just—yeah.” His cheeks flush pink and he looks down to the ground.

“No worries,” you say, barely even thinking. “I think I’ve seen you too. You’re in Delta Tau Delta, right?”

“Nah, nah,” he laughs. “Just got some friends in there.”

“Ah.” You nod.

The conversation falls into silence, but not uncomfortable silence. He pulls out his phone again, and you look back to the crossword in front of you. The old woman between you leaves with a humongous load of blankets and a small family leaves with a cart full of bags; now it’s just you two.

When the washer with your delicates ding you nearly jump two feet in the air. Exhaling, you set your work down and open the door.

“Shit,” you curse as two bras fall onto the tile. You reach down to get a hand on a black lace bra and hide it quickly under your elbow. A sneaker squeaks loud in the almost-empty room and you see Baseball Cap’s shoulders.

“Here.” He’s kneeling as he hands you your pink bra and you accept it, biting your lower lip.

“Thanks,” you mumbles, slightly embarrassed, and step back to shove those bras and a couple pairs of your underwear into your bag. He offers you a small smile and backs off to his own machines, humming an off-key version of Unchained Melody to himself. Your other load of laundry gets shoved right on top of your delicates.

It’s when you’re nearly out the door, bell jingling, that you think to look back.

“Hey,” you start, almost stuttering for no reason. “What’s your name?”

He turns, dark eyebrows raised.

“My—uh… My friends call me Sapnap. You can call me that too.” Rosy cheeks once again; you seem to be making him awfully nervous.

“Sapnap.” You try it in your mouth, pursing your lips. “Okay. I’ll see you around Sapnap.”

He nods, affirming your statement.

“See you around Y/N.”

It doesn’t hit you until you’re buckling your seatbelt and starting your car that you realize you didn’t tell him your name.

Perhaps he knew more about you than you thought.

Yeah, you laugh to yourself. Karl’s got a big mouth.

Junior Year:

It takes you a collective twelve minutes to go talk to him.

It’s quiet in the library, students that happen to come here to study or procrastinate few and far between the scattered tables. Your poison today is a 4 page history paper on Normandy that you’d been staring at the instructions for for days. You’d already written a bunch of, frankly, horseshit for the body, but the introduction and conclusion were throwing you for a loop.

The vibes in Ridgeback Hall were also certainly off, today more than any other day; the main help-desk was empty and everybody had to do the tedious task of locating niche textbooks themselves.

Lifting your head from the wood of the table, you squint and focus your vision on the guy in the white tee and denim jacket that had been the focus of your thoughts for minutes. He chews at the end of his pencil, mouth screwed up into a ball, and shoots daggers at the empty notebook in front of him. You’re surprised it hasn’t caught on fire yet just from his gaze.

“Sapnap!” You whisper-shout, stretching your arms across the table as if it would make him any closer. A person with purple hair jumps at your voice but turns back to their laptop. “Sapnap!” you try again, tapping two fingers on the table. His head jerks up, eyebrows furrowed and an angry expression on his face, but softens at the sight of you.

“Y/N,” he counters, equally as loud but with a smile on his face.

“What’re you doing?”

“Calculus.” He sticks his tongue out, making an awfully tortured face. You laugh and wave your fingers at him, gesturing for him to come closer. He just huffs out a sigh, stacks all his papers in one pile, and gets up. The trek over to your table is short but he takes it so slowly you wonder if he always walks like that. Like a varsity basketball player who just got off a horse.

“You’re so slow.”

“Shut up,” he grumbles and settles into a chair across from you. “It’s 2 pm, give me a break. I need a Redbull.”

“Those are bad for you, you know,” you say matter-of-factly and drop your chin onto your hand. He’s even cuter from this angle, you think briefly. He just rolls his eyes.

“Whatever, Miss I’d-like-some-coffee-with-my-sugar-and-cream,” he teases, pointing to your venti iced coffee. It’s about as pale as the color of a band-aid. You just sigh and close your eyes. “You tired?” He flips his pencil in his hand and leans back into the seat, sighing.

“Yeah,” you mumble. “I haven’t slept yet today.”

“Wow, you’re dumb.” He looks scandalized. You just shrug.

“Perhaps. I don’t really know why I did it actually— just for funzies!” You raise an arm but let it drop back down. “I stayed up playing Sims.”

“Feel that. I play Minecraft with my buddies until like 2 am every night too. It’s nice,” he decides and folds his arms across his chest. Your eyes flit over to his strong arms, admiring the way his denim shirt looks around them. Thick.

“Do you have a girlfriend?”

“What?” He says too loudly and it warrants a ‘shush’ from another student. He reddens, but looks back down to you. “I—why do you ask?” You shrug, eyebrows raised.

“Just wondering. You’re too cute to not have one.”

“Right,” he huffs, but his cheeks stay pink. You two fall into easy silence, his eyes trained on the notebook in front of him and yours closed peacefully. “Are you dating anyone?”

They snap open not-so-peacefully.

“Nope. You wanna submit a boyfriend application?” A smile cracks your lips and he grins back.

“Maybe,” he replies and stares at your mouth. “I have to say—,” He stretches into a yawn. “I think I’m qualified.”

“Oh, yeah?” Your eyebrow quirks. “And why are you so qualified?”

“Well, first of all, I work at Ace Hardware. That’s where cool people work.” He presses one finger into his palm. Then two. “And I have a bunch of free time because said job at Ace Hardware only likes scheduling me in the mornings. Plus, I’m hot.” He shrugs.

You nod faux-seriously, considering his list.

“Those are very good qualities, sir. I’ll have to get back to you on that.” You pause. “Okay, I’ll schedule an interview. How’s 7 pm at the Chili’s on Main? Chili’s is the designated interview place.” You wiggle your eyebrows. He just smiles at you, shaking his head in disbelief.

“That was smooth.”

“Yeah, I know.” You carefully study your nails. “I’m pretty impressive.”

“Clearly,” he mutters and chuckles. “But I do like their salsa. And margaritas. We got a deal?” He holds out a large hand. You take it, squeezing tightly.

“Hell yes.”

When you see the man called Sapnap a week later, you are very obviously in a different state of mind.

Same state, same college town, but very different blood alcohol contents.

“Sappy!” You shout, raising your arms above your head with a stupid grin on your face. He turns, that familiar look of surprise evident in his expression.

“Y/N,” he laughs and approaches your group of friends in the kitchen. It’s Greek Wedding night at Delta Tau Delta, and you assume Sapnap came to support Delta’s “groom” Alex. You’d gotten uncharacteristically drunk, trading air for sangria, and you were now in the incredible stage where everyone was both your friend and your favorite person.

Throwing an arm around his shoulders, you mash your face into his bicep and giggle.

“Missed you so much,” you try to manage out of your mouth, but it comes out slurred and stuttered. “So much.” You’d gone to Chili’s two days before and promised another ‘interview’ in the next few days, but it felt like two months away from your beloved. Beloved friend, that is. Only one date.

“Yeah?” He places a hesitant hand on your back and nudges you into a standing position. “How much have you had to drink?”

“Oh, shhhh,” you mumble and close your eyes. “Only— a lot.” Blinking them back open, you zero your gaze in on a bottle of Ciroc half-empty and looking very tempting on the kitchen island across from where you’re leaned up against the kitchen sink. He catches your gaze and steps in front of you, pleasant face filling your vision. You gasp.

“You are so cute.” Sliding your palms up onto his face, you hold his scruffy cheeks in your hands and smile all dopey at him.

“Is that your brain or the alcohol telling you that?”

“Uh,” you swallow. “Both. And my heart.”

He just shakes his head and his chest moves with a heavy laugh.

“Glad to hear it.”

“Are you having fun?” You ask, all concerned and furrowed eyebrows. You look like you’re genuinely interested and worried about if he’s having a good time or not, and it makes his expression melt.

“I’m having lots of fun,” he passes over his shoulder as he flips on the tap and fills a red solo cup with water. “In fact, I’m gonna have a nice, cold glass of water right now.” He shakes it like an owner offering their dog a treat.

You eye the cup in his hand, having half a thought that this might be some sort of backwards psychology move. The other half wins.

“That sounds so good right now— can I drink some?” Your eyebrows pull together and your bottom lip drops into a pout. It makes him blink for a second. He remembers the little game you’re playing and just hands it over, smug. You gulp it down quickly and crush the empty plastic into your palm with an exaggerated exhale. “Hit the spot,” you sigh, and pat your stomach fondly.

“You hungry?” Sapnap asks you as he steadies you with two hands on your shoulders. Something pops into your head at his words: a set of two McChickens and an Oreo milkshake.

“Oh my God,” you gasp, and mirror him by placing your hands on his shoulders. “Can we go to McDonald’s?”

He just shakes his head, grin wide on his lips, and shrugs. Perfect teeth, you think.

“I haven’t drank anything, so I’m good to drive.” He pulls his keys from his pocket. “I know you’re smashed right now so—do you feel safe with me?” The question falls from his mouth and you truly consider it, pulling your lip between your teeth.

“Yeah. I’ll take this just in case,” you say, and take a large dinner fork from the counter next to you. It has some red liquid on it that you brush off onto the fabric of your jeans.

“That’s actually gross.”

“Yeah.” You grip it tighter in your head. “But it’ll do the job if you try any shit. I’ll put this in your eyeball.” Brandishing it, a smile stretches onto your mouth. He just shakes his head and heads for the back door, jerking a hand in your direction to get you to follow him.

The cool night air explodes on your face when you step onto the porch and it makes you blink rapidly. Sapnap is right at your side, offering a forearm as you slowly make your way down the two back porch steps. A tall blonde smoking half of a blunt makes a grunt noise as you two pass and your knight-in-shining armor looks up.

“Gonna go get some food. Want anything?” Sapnap stops on the rocky path to the sidewalk, tilted up to hear the blonde’s response. The other guy shakes his head but nods to you in passing.

“I’ll tell her friends where she went,” says the blonde, and disappears through the sliding glass doors.

Your hand falls from his forearm to his hand and grasps it tightly, swinging back and forth as you stumble to his car. You flash him a grin that he just chuckles at.

“Watch your step,” he warns as you yank on the handle of the passenger door and nearly fall off of the curb.

“I’m fine,” you huff, and scramble to get yourself upright into the seat and buckled. He closes your door and jogs to the driver’s seat, climbing in and starting the engine quicker than your head comprehends.

The small space fills with the sound of Letters to Cleo as he’s maneuvering out of his parking spot and he slaps a hand at the stereo button almost immediately. His cheeks redden as he glances at you once.

“I love Letters to Cleo,” you admit, and switch it back on. Ah, Co-Pilot. A classic. “Be my co-pilot!” You sing, loud and sharp. He shakes his head but huffs out a reluctant laugh.

“My older sister loved them. Bit old for my taste, but—you know. Can’t deny that I love a little bit of 90’s angst.”

“Absolutely,” you nod vigorously and pick at your nail. “Oh!” The fork magically reappears at your side and you grab at it. “For my McChickens.”

“And for me,” he adds.

“Yup. You too.” But you drop it onto the seat and lean forward, fumbling with the volume dial until you feel the lead singer’s voice thumping into your heart. “I love this lady!” You shout and rock your head to the beat.

Shaking his head, his shoulders move in an easy laugh. The drive-thru line is kind of busy for 2 am, he notes, pulling in right behind a navy BMW sedan. But it moves quickly, especially when you’re moving in your seat, scream-singing the lyrics to I Want You To Want Me.

“Yeah,” he says, loud into the mic. “Two.”

“Alright.” The voice reports from the speaker, a background clicking joining their bored tone. “Two McChickens, a double cheeseburger—ketchup and pickle only— , a medium fry, and an Oreo McFlurry. Anything else, sir?”

Sapnap chews on his lip, and glances at you. You just give an encouraging thumbs up.

“That’ll be all,” he reports.

“Second window, and your total is $9.67.”

He barely has time to call a “thank you so much!” before the line ends with a click. Rude.

“Jesus Christ,” you moan the second you sink your teeth into your first sandwich.

“Agreed,” he mumbles and pushes as much cheeseburger he can fit into his mouth.

“This,” you start, swallowing. “is the sexiest thing I’ve encountered in all of my years. I thank all higher powers when I consume McChickens…” Trailing off for dramatic effect, you stare down the sandwich before mimicking a dinosaur war cry and practically shoving it down your throat. He just nods in agreement.

“It’s so nice out tonight,” Sapnap comments, swinging a look out his rolled-down window. He parked right in front of the Campus Quad, large bubbling fountain the show to your dinner. And some geese fighting each other for half a rotting hot dog.

“Mhm.” You crumple up your wrapper trash and toss it into the empty paper bag. “Could totally go for a swim.”

He turns and gives you a look. You look right back.

“Should we?” It’s barely a question.

“Um, hell yes,” is all it takes for you to say before you’re clambering out of the car and starting for the fountain. He follows closely after, jogging to catch up with your borderline track-star sprints.

“Wait up!” He calls as you reach the border of the fountain.

“Ugh,” you sigh, impatient. “Hurry up.”

“Mouthy,” he grumbles before kicking off his shoes and bending to fold his pants up over his knees. You just climb straight in and brave the cold.

Squealing, you hop from one foot to the other, shoulders tight as you get used to the freezing water. He laughs and climbs in right beside you.

“Shit,” he curses, and shivers. “This sucks.”

“You suck,” you quip right back and splash around. He stares, disgusted, at the water soaking up your jeans all the way up to your knees.

“You’re gross for wearing jeans in a fountain. That’s worse than wet socks.” He starts to move around as feeling comes back into his toes.

“What, would you prefer me taking my pants off?” A sassy look paints your face and he rolls his eyes.

“No, but you could’ve folded them up like a normal person.”

“I think you forget,” you start, and splash a palmful of water his way. “I’m quirky.”

He gasps, face twisting as the water hits his thighs.

“You’re dead.”

If campus police were patrolling the Quad right now, they’d see two college juniors wading around in a fountain, water up to their knees, having a competition to see who can inflict the most damage. He won, it seems, because your shirt is drenched all the way up to your ribs.

“Okay!” You shout, hands spread to brace yourself. The water in his palm falls. “I’m cold and I want my other McChicken.”

“Fine,” he sighs, and with some difficulty manages to get out of the fountain and back into his shoes. You just make your way back over to his car barefoot, braving the mulch and poorly-sanded concrete.

You both finish your food quickly, discussing menial things like how fast food restaurants always skimp on the pickles and how it’s truly a disservice to the world that so many people don’t know it’s Biggie singing the song Kat dances on the table to in the 1999 classic 10 Things I Hate About You.

When Sapnap pulls up to your house, he shifts the car into park and lets loose a heavy sigh. You whip around, hand on your buckle, and sport a very confused look on your face.

“I’m tired,” is all he says. Head falling onto the seat, he rolls over to give you a half-lidded look. You nod empathetically and climb very carefully out of his passenger seat. Your drunk muscles haven't caught up to your mainly sober brain, which is impairing your ability to look like a functioning human being.

“Thank you for tonight,” you chirp, smiling in at him with your arms folded on the open window sill. The half-drank Oreo McFlurry is lukewarm in your hand. He stares at your flushed lips.

“Anytime you want a drunk McChicken let me know.” He winks. “I have a gift card.”

“You spoil me,” you coo, and step up onto the sidewalk. “I’ll see you sometime soon, yeah?”

He nods, pursed lips fighting a grin.

Cute, you both think at the same time.

Sometime soon, somehow, means the very next day.

It’s breezy yet uncharacteristically hot out, and certainly way too bright for a hungover Y/N.

You’re sat on the porch swing, nursing a hot decaf coffee with lots of sugar and cream. Sunglasses sit comfortably on your nose, but you still have to squint. The pills you took have yet to kick in, so all you have to do is wait and try not to vomit into your mug. Suddenly, your phone lights up and buzzes to life. You press the green button and lift to your ear.

“What do you want?” Your voice is awfully froggy, you realize, and clear your throat.

“Good morning to you too.” Sapnap’s voice rings clear yet husky into your ear. The corners of your lips twitch up into a smile. God, you’re whipped just for the sound of his voice.

“It is definitely not a good morning,” you grumble and switch him into speaker phone. You drop the phone into your lap and stretch out further on the swing.

“Good morning for me,” he chirps cheerfully. “Take anything for the headache?”

“Yes,” you report, sounding like a pouting child and rubbing two fingers into your temple. “Some idiot fed me ice cream last night so this morning I woke up having to both shit and throw up.”

“Aww,” he sympathizes, sounding way too entertained. “That sounds like a you problem.” You stuck out your tongue, but upon realizing he can’t see it, make a ‘hmph’ noise into the mic. “Anyways. I called to see if you wanted to go get breakfast with me. Waffle House, specifically.” You make a face but lift yourself up off the swing, wincing.

“I saw a rat eat an entire piece of french toast there once. But—sure. I’ll pay.” He starts to whine, but you scoff. “Let me love you, bitch. You pay for my McDonald’s and I pay for your pancakes. Easy trade.”

“Whatever. See you in five.” He hangs up right as you twist the front door open and drop your phone onto the couch.

“Who’re you talking to?” comes from the kitchen and you jump, pressing a hand to your chest. A shirtless Karl enters the living room with a bowl of fruit loops in his hand.

“Jesus Christ,” you breathe, and duck into the hall closet for your pair of dirty tennis shoes. “I was talking to Sapnap.”

“Oh,” he says around his mouthful of cereal with a grin. “You guys dating yet?”

You pass him a weird look, bending to tie your shoes.

“Gimme like two weeks. I’ll have him at my beck and call,” you laugh and collapse back into the couch.

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” He quirks an eyebrow and exits stage left into your roommate’s room.

The few minutes it takes for Sapnap to come to your house are short but filled with contemplation. Do you really want to date him? He’s certainly cute enough. Nice enough. And smart enough. He seems to like you too—

A honk interrupts your thoughts. Always having to be obnoxious, huh?

“You’re annoying,” you mumble as you buckle your seatbelt. He just shrugs, tiny smile tugging his lips, and shifts into drive. The short trip to Waffle House proves more quiet than lively. He seems awake, actually, so you attribute the silence to your tumultuous thoughts. The music is nice, though. Bikini Kill is perfect for 10 am.

After you two order (three chocolate chip pancakes for him and two regular waffles with a side of hashbrowns for you), he finally breaks the silence.

“Hey, are we dating?”

You pause with your lip on the rim of your orange juice. Your gaze falls from his lips to his fingers wrapped around the coffee mug. Two silver rings adorn both his middle fingers and they glint underneath the fluorescent lights.

“Do you wanna?” You squint back up at him. The tips of his ears flush pink.

“I-uh… Yeah. Yes,” he says simply. You try to hide a smile, but realize there’s no point.

“Okay.” You take a long drink of your orange juice. “I really like you. A lot. A surprising amount, actually; I haven’t really dated seriously since highschool.”

He nods, shuffling his feet on the tile. What else does he have to be nervous about? you wonder.

“I’ve… kindasortamaybelikedyousincesophmoreyear,” he mumbles and you swallow.

“Huh?” Leaning forward, you set your glass down.

“Um,” he starts but doesn’t finish.

“Did you say you’ve liked me since sophomore year?”

“...Maybe.” His coffee becomes the most interesting thing in the world, apparently. “Do you remember that one time during the Summer Carnival where Karl lost his phone?”

“Uh—yes! Yeah, actually. I do remember that. He found it in the porta-potty. What about it?” The waitress sets down both your plates in front of you and you offer her a smile in thanks before she trundles off to the drink station. You pick up your fork and wait for him to continue.

“I left two hours early because you invited Michael from your computer science class.” You pause around your mouthful of potato and he just stares back, trying not to grin. “Yeah. I thought you were hot and left early because you brought another guy.”

“Michael is gay,” you say slowly.

“Yup.” He nods and shoves a forkful of pancake into his mouth. “Isn’t that so stupid?”

“So stupid,” you tease but your cheeks blush pink.

“Anyways. Now I’m dating you, so. Win for me.”

“Ditto,” you murmur, and manage to fit half of your first waffle into your mouth. “This is the easiest it’s ever been to start dating someone.”

“It’s ‘cause we’re cool, I’m pretty sure,” comes from a mouthful of pancake.

“That’s facts.”

The rest of Pancake House is bustling, a few families with young kids and some other hungover college students scarfing down similar breakfast foods and confections. You two barely give any other customers the time of day, too wrapped up in conversation and each other. The waitress gets a heavy tip after an hour and a half of struggling to swallow dough soaked in syrup and chocolate.

Sapnap walks you to your door after breakfast, hand on your waist and pressed to your side. It feels good. Right.

“I’ll see you Wednesday right?” You ask, turning to him with hopeful eyes. How could he resist?

“Definitely. Wouldn’t miss Game Night for the world— I can’t wait to beat your ass at Uno.”

“You’re insufferable, you know that?” You murmur but you’re already slinging an arm around his shoulder and bringing his mouth down to yours.

You taste like sugar, he thinks. His hands find the small of your back easily, pressing you further forward into him. You hum at that, tracking a hand up the back of his neck and into his hair to grip it between your fingers.

He smells both musky and sweet and cool at the same time: heaven. One of his hands slides up to grip at your neck, thumb rubbing at your jaw, and you make a pleased noise into his mouth. There it is.

“Y/N!” Shrieks from inside your house and you jump, pulling away from Sapnap with a smack.

“What?” You yell back, irritated, and he just laughs as he dips to press a kiss to your cheek.

“Stop tonguing your boyfriend and come help me with my photography project.”

“God damn it,” you sigh and drop your hands. His slide down to just rest on your hips, comfortable. “I have to go.” You're annoyed, that’s for sure, and he prays you aren’t too mean to your roommate.

“Alright.” He dips for a quick kiss one last time. Okay, two more times. Maybe three. But he pulls away, grinning. “I’ll see you Wednesday.”

And then he’s stepping off your porch, walking to his car with his hands in his pockets. You watch his back fondly.

God, boyfriend. He’s your boyfriend. Boynap. Sapfriend. You can’t decide on a name, but all sounds perfect.

Perfectly him.

A/N: ask or send me some stuff!! requests, rants, anything. :D comments = welcome!

#sapnap #mcyt #sapnap x reader #sapnap x fem!reader #sapnap x you #sapnap fluff #sapnap fic #sapnap oneshot #mcyt imagine #bubblyhoneyfics #mcyt x you

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troubatrain · 3 years

Text

good for you - t. jost

a/n: one day it dawned at me that tyson jost really had just been hitting different lately, and so i just needed to write some filth about it. i'm thinking of making this a smut based mini series so let me know what you guys think :)

part two

warnings: it's smush time (smut)

I can’t believe you’re leaving me like this.

Mat Barzal was pouting, laying across your bedroom in your apartment whining about how you were heading off to Colorado and leaving him. It wasn’t by choice, you’d gotten into a grad program that was an amazing opportunity, separating you and your childhood best friend for the first time in ages. Mat was your friend by accident, a kid was picking on him and you got mad because only you’re allowed to do that and punched that kid square in the nose. Mat covered for you so you wouldn’t get suspended and you’d been inseparable ever since.

“This place is going to be too quiet without you,” Mat whines, dodging the book you’d thrown in his direction, “And not that I keep you to clean up after me but I do need you to teach me how to use the dishwasher.”

“How about you help me pack then?” You suggest, rolling your eyes at his inability to take care of himself. He’d always been like that, his own mother relieved when you moved in because it eased her worries about Mat burning his place down.

“You should give Tyson a call,” Mat hops up, grabbing a box and some stuff off your shelf, “Sure he’d be able to show you around.”

“Tyson Jost?” You furrow your brows, trying to clarify exactly who Mat was talking about. There wasn’t anything wrong with Tyson, that was the problem. Tyson was like sunshine in the summer and in another life, he’d be your dream man. He was kind and the way he talked about his mother made every one of your girlfriends swoon. Tyson had the kind of drive you respected and he just seemed so steady, “I thought we agreed I’d break him.”

“You agreed with yourself on that one not me,” Mat chuckles, shaking his head at your response. Mat couldn’t think of any one of his friends that he’d let date you besides Tyson. Tyson was an astronomically better person than Mat was, always the kind of kid his parents encouraged him to hang out with, “What if Tyson’s the best dick of your life and you don’t even give him a shot?”

“I’m not sleeping with Tyson, he’s too innocent,” It wasn’t an excuse, it was the truth. Everything about Tyson screamed that he’d get you off but it wouldn’t be all that exciting. Tyson was a relationship type, and you weren’t and aside from the obvious sexual incompatibility - he was Mat’s friend. Despite his efforts, you always swore that was a line you’d never cross. Besides, as kind and endearing as Tyson was, he was still a hockey player, he just got away with it better than most.

“Just promise me you’ll call him? Especially if something’s wrong,” Mat pleads, a soft expression on his face even if it was just for a second before you had a t-shirt tossed in your direction, “You can’t let him replace me though, I’m number one around here.”

“I cannot wait to live alone,” You tease, laughing when Mat’s middle finger is thrown in your direction. It was bittersweet, leaving the comfort of having Mat around to buy you ice cream when you were sad and to take care of his best friend duties and onto a new adventure.

“You won’t be alone Josty will be there,” Mat jokes, his laugh bouncing off the now barren walls of your bedroom, “I swear I’m done now.”

“You better be.”

“I give it two weeks before you fuck Josty though.”

***

Just swing by her place, please.

Mat was like a mother who just sent their first kid away for college, and he was panicking. So, yes, he was begging Tyson to just drop in on to make sure your move was going as smoothly as you made it sound on the phone. Tyson could have been doing anything else on a Friday night with no game, but he was getting closer and closer to giving in by the second.

Tyson could admit, he wanted to see you, and he was excited when Mat shared the news you were moving to Denver. He looked forward to seeing you in the summer, carefree and light and so far out of his league he’d never even try. You made Tyson fumble his words, and every time he saw you he would think with his dick and he couldn’t focus on anything else. Above all else, Tyson wanted you to know he was a phone call away, a promise he made to Mat that he’d be there if you needed anything that he was going to keep for his own selfish reasons.

So Tyson was off to your apartment, a bottle of wine in one hand and a case of Coors Light in the other. He lifted his hand to knock, taking a deep breath and just thinking to himself, don’t fuck this up.

You knew that familiar tuft of curls in your peephole anywhere, summers spent watching the way Tyson’s curls bounced against his forehead whenever he spoke. This had Mat written all over it, no doubt your best friend put Tyson up to his welcoming committee bit. You turn around, boxes piled everywhere with nothing set up in your place aside from your mattress in the middle of the floor and your tv in your living room. Unpacking had been a bit overwhelming, and you may have lied on the phone to Mat that you were doing just fine. You take one deep breath, holding your head up high and pretending like your place wasn’t a mess.

“Hi,” You smile, leaning against your doorframe and taking in the man in front of you. Did he get bigger? Maybe it’s the hair, it’s longer. No, the scruff. Whatever it was, your feet were glued to the floor because you were stunned by the fact that Tyson Jost had gotten hot.

“Welcome,” Tyson cheeses, holding up the beer and wine in his hands and shrugging his shoulders, “I hope it’s fine I stopped by, Mat called and-”

“Told you to come?” You finished his sentence, Tyson nodding at your question, “Well, I have no furniture because it won’t be here until tomorrow, but you’re more than welcome to come join in my sad empty apartment.”

“I’d love to,” Tyson chuckles, bumping his shoulder with yours when he walked into your place. It was definitely empty, Tyson wishing he’d known sooner you’d be without most of your stuff for another day so he could offer up his guest room. It didn’t matter to him, his mind focused more on the fact that you looked incredible, a too big Islanders shirt and a pair of shorts that were leaving little to the eye. You were digging through a box, a small aha leaving your mouth when you pulled out a mug, “Wine in a mug?”

“That’s how Mat used to pour me glasses when we first moved in together,” You admit, gripping the mug in your hand tightly. You may have stolen it from your former kitchen, but it was a memory you wanted to remember, “You can sit, I mean the only place is on my mattress but-”

“Sounds like a tradition then,” Tyson hums, sitting down and leaning against your pillows, taking a sip of his beer. You sat cross legged next to him, pouring yourself some of the wine he’d brought over in that silly I <3 New York mug Mat bought for your first place. You settled on a movie, thankful you at least had wi-fi and didn’t have to make awkward conversation with Tyson.

It’s only awkward because you’re making it awkward, you thought to yourself. Maybe Tyson was doing it on purpose, peacocking around your apartment because Mat told him he had this weird thing about you sleeping with him. He wouldn’t do that, remembering every other time Tyson’s ignored one of Mat’s grand schemes because they were bad ideas, “Excited for the season to start? A few more weeks right?”

“I’m excited for camp to be over,” Tyson groans, snuggling himself into

your mattress, “My entire body’s on fire.”

Yeah mine too. You watched the way Tyson rolled his shoulders, clear pain across his face, “Ty’s let me-”

You were usually bold, confident enough to make the first move without the fear of rejection. It could be from years of watching Mat, a true master at his craft of picking up women, and constantly encouraging you to do the same. That’s how a player plays the game Y/N. Tyson’s brows were raised at you, a blush on his neck while he let himself sit a bit. You slipped your fingers under the soft cotton of his t-shirt, digging them into the knots in his shoulder. Tyson let his eyes rest, embracing the relief you were giving him.

Of course your fingers felt like magic. Tyson was doing everything in his power to keep his cool, and not blow this one chance he’s had with you without Mat’s stupid antics in the middle of it. Just ask her out, she’ll probably reject you, but at least you’ll get laid. Mat was right, he had to be because he knew you better than anyone. It wasn’t just some claim he made either, you didn’t do relationships, never giving your heart to someone else, “How are you good at this?”

“Tito used to tell me I had a career in deep tissue massages in my future,” You joke, Tyson’s head falling back to look at you while he let out a laugh, “Sometimes I think he just wanted to save a trip to the rink…do you mind if I-?”

You were tugging at Tyson’s shirt, waiting for him to nod in response and grab it from the back and toss it off. You never took the time to look at Tyson like this, eyes scanning over his skin and taking him in. Scars on his skin, no doubt from his choice in sport and one from that time Mat took roughhousing too far over the summer. Your finger curled around a loose curl at the base of his neck, Tyson letting out a hum, “I like the curls grown out Tys.”

“Keep pulling on them,” Tyson grunts, the words falling through his lips before he could stop them. You let out a small giggle, Tyson thanking his lucky stars you didn’t just hit him. He turned around, a glimmer in his eyes that you’d seen dozens of times before. Your hand stayed in his hair, gripping his hair softly when Tyson’s lips finally landed on yours. It was slow at first, testing out the waters and Tyson waiting for the blow of rejection. His hand was on your waist, hand slipping under your shirt and rubbing your skin softly. His lips moved down your neck, scruff tickling your skin, “Been wanting this for a while…”

“Yeah?” You muse, tilting your head back while Tyson’s teeth sunk into them. His grip got tighter, your breath hitching in your throat.

“If you don’t count the years I spent wondering what the fuck you and Mat were, then every summer for the past four years,” Tyson’s eyes had gotten a shade darker, flipping you over so you were underneath him, “Don’t act like you don’t know you’re hot, or that I’ve been mentally undressing you for years.”

“Now’s your chance Tys, don’t blow it,” You chirp, waiting for Tyson’s laugh to follow, except it didn’t. Tyson’s hands pulled yours over your head, grip tight on your wrists. What if Tyson’s the best dick of your life and you don’t even give him a shot. Mat’s words were spinning your head, taunting you because there was a chance he was actually right.

“Don’t move them,” Tyson grits, his lips trailing down your neck, his hands pulled your shirt off slowly, stifling a groan when his suspicions about your lack of bra were true, “Be a good girl-”

“Or what?” You smirk, wondering how many buttons you could press before Tyson just railed you. This was new, welcome, and maybe you shouldn’t have assumed Tyson was the boring type behind closed doors.

“Or I’ll fuck you until you’re begging to cum, but I still won’t let you,” Tyson mutters, his lips pressed against your skin while his fingers hooked under your shorts, “So are you going to be good for me?”

Tyson waited for your answer, gaining himself a plus one in your book on consent and when you nodded, your shorts and panties came clean off. Tyson hooked your thighs over his shoulders and pressed a kiss to your clit lightly, “Don’t tease Tys.”

“Am I the first person who gets you like this?” Tyson groans, watching the way your hips were squirming every light kiss he pressed around your pussy. You were an alpha female, Mat’s words, never Tyson’s, and that meant that under most circumstances you were in charge.

“Yes,” You whimper, desperate for some sort of relief. Tyson had you wound up, in a position you were used to being in and you were eating up every bit of it. He finally gave in, Tyson’s well skilled tongue swirling around your clit, pulling a moan out of you that echoed through your empty apartment. You clasped your hands together, taking every bit of strength you had not to tug on Tyson’s curls, “Fuck, Tyson let me touch you.”

“Not what we agreed to, princess,” Tyson reminds you, his tongue teasing your entrance while his nose rubbed against your clit. His tongue slid up your folds, Tyson climbing back up your body and letting his spit slide down his tongue and into your mouth, “Taste yourself babe.”

You nod, obliging happily with Tyson, your eyes practically rolling to the back of your head at how fucking hot this was. His lips landed on yours, reminding you just how good you were being against your mouth. Tyson’s hand grabbed one of yours, intertwining your fingers with his, “Tyson, please I wanna cum so badly.”

“Where?” Tyson hums, sucking at your skin, undoubtedly leaving you a little gift to cover up for your first day of class.

“On your cock,” You bat your eyelashes, playing into Tyson’s game because you needed some release, “All over it, please-”

Tyson kicked off his boxers, taking his own cock in his hand and pumping it a few times. He tapped your clit the head, smirking when you moaned underneath him. This was better than he imagined, all of those unwanted dirty dreams about you that seemed to be more frequent over the summer. You let your free hand move, Tyson’s head thrown back when you lined his dick up your core, guiding him inside of you, “God, you feel so fucking good.”

Tyson dropped your hand, both of his large hands gripped your hips tightly while he slammed into you. Your legs with shaking from pleasure, “Fuck, right there, please I’m so close-”

Tyson wrapped one of your legs around his waist, hitting you deeper. His arms were on both sides of your head, his lips pressed up against your ears when he spoke, “Cum for me princess.”

Tyson’s deep groans sent you over the edge, your pussy fluttering around his cock while he fucked you through your orgasm. His lips parted, hips sputtering when he pulled out and came all over your stomach with a loud fuck. You both fell silent, the realization that you broke your own rule about Mat’s stupid friends washing over you. It wasn’t regret, it was something you couldn’t quite explain. Tyson finally fell next to you, pressing a kiss to the side of your head, letting his light kisses trail down your shoulder, “Let me get the shower ready for you.”

You nod, letting your eyes follow Tyson’s ass as he wandered through your place in search of your bathroom. An aftercare king too? Maybe you were biting off more than even you could chew with this one. You grab your phone, rolling your eyes at Mat’s unanswered texts complaining that you’d already replaced him with Tyson. Your fingers dance across the screen, typing up the text you’d been meaning to send since Tyson was at your front door.

You could’ve warned me Tyson got hot, you know?

You didn’t even last two weeks did you?

#tyson jost #tyson jost imagine #my writing #nhl imagine #nhl imagines

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spencersawkward · 3 years

Text

top shelf//MGG - part 1

summary: broke and having a bad day, Reader runs into Matthew outside a café. after a couple encounters, his financial support and friendship become something more.

word count: 3k

content warnings: swearing but nothing else!

pairing: Fem!Reader/Matthew

A/N: hi! welcome to my new series. i don’t think this will be super long in terms of parts, but i’ll try to update as frequently as possible for you all. this chapter is pretty expositional, so i’m sorry in advance lol. also i know i made it short but lmk if you want them to be longer. also shoutout my sweet sweet angels @reidsconverse and @voidsfilm bc i would literally cry without both of you. also THANK YOU to @dr-spencerr-reidd for this concept bc i probably wouldn't have written it without your ask!! sending hugs :)

you throw your phone down on the passenger seat with a frustrated groan. after everything that's happened today, you're now stuck on a congested street with your car barely inside the parking spot alongside the sidewalk.

your screen sits there beside you, blank and unresponsive, and you know you're going to have to go inside the coffee shop to ask to use their phone and call Triple A. of course it's not working because nothing is working today. you might as well just sit in your car and cry.

but you can't, because you have a huge project for work that you need to get done by next week, and you've already procrastinated enough. a red glow from the headlights of other cars on the street shine through your windows like melted wax, distorted by the rain. it's been pouring all day.

bracing yourself for the onslaught, you grab the old umbrella from the foot well of the passenger seat and open the door of your car. the torrents hit your body like a wall of ice, soaking you as you try to get to the safety of the café. the umbrella helps a little, but then you get to the overhang and have to actually close it before you head inside.

your fingertips slip around the metal, trying to shove the thing closed while water drips off the bridge of your nose. it's frustrating. your footsteps are still determined as they move towards the entrance, but you're distracted by the stubborn nature of the object, so you don't see the man walking out.

it's not even a bodily collision, really. it's so much worse: the sopping material of the umbrella pokes him in the stomach, knocking the hot cup of coffee all over his sweater.

your eyes widen.

"oh my fucking god, I'm so sorry--" you stutter over your words, completely at a loss. his face is twisted up in an expression of concealed pain. it can't feel good to have hot coffee seeping through your clothes after being prodded by a piece of metal. you move your wet hair out of your face in order to look at him full-on.

"it's fine, really." he gives you what's supposed to be a friendly smile, but looks more like a grimace. your stomach twists; he's hot. like, if you saw him at the bar you would stare at him all night kind of hot.

"no, it's not," your face heats up, despite the cold, damp air. "let me buy you another coffee."

"I--" he glances down at his sweater, which is knitted with cute foxes on the front, then back at you. he pauses a moment and you have to bite down on your tongue to keep from collapsing. he's considerably older than you, but he doesn't dress or act that way. maybe late thirties, if you had to guess. "sure. thanks."

a flowering relief in your chest, partly because he doesn't seem angry and partly because you'd like to look at his face just a bit longer. your eyes stay on his until someone walks through the door of the café and reminds you of where you are.

without a word, you brush past and go into the building, him trailing behind.

Matthew watches as you walk ahead, your clothes spattered with rainwater and your hair somewhat messed up, too. he smiles to himself at the way you almost bump into the corner of a table, nervousness evident in nearly every movement.

you head to the counter, setting your hands on the granite while the barista checks out your unkempt appearance.

"hi," you smile at her before realizing you have no idea what this guy wants. you turn around and see him standing slightly behind you, suppressing a smile. he can tell how flustered you are, and now you look like a fool. "what coffee do you drink?"

"can I have a medium Americano, please?" he asks the barista with a friendly smile. he's got straight teeth, dimples... holy shit. you wish he had been unappealing so that this whole situation would be less humiliating.

you pay for his drink before getting out of the way, both of you slowly walking to the pickup counter.

"again, I'm really sorry. that stupid umbrella." you shake the thing at your side, raindrops falling to the floor. you run a hand through your wet hair.

"it's okay. I appreciate you getting me another cup." he flashes that smile again and you remember that his sweater is all stained. before you can think to do anything else, you pluck a handful of napkins from the self-serve station and start to dab at the material.

he looks down at you for a second, surprised by the way you grab his clothes. Matthew feels your hand pressing into his stomach innocently, and he feels himself blush a little. it's only when you pull away that he's able to regain his head.

"it's still bad," you throw away the napkins and re-evaluate the garment. "jesus christ, it's a nice sweater, too."

"hey, it's totally fine. I can just wash it out." he lets out a slight chuckle, and the sound makes your heart flutter. he's got a dad laugh. deep in his chest.

"baking soda and water." you say abruptly. he frowns.

"what?"

"to get the stain out? I use baking soda and water for coffee stains and it usually works." you explain gently, your eyes meeting again. his irises are a brownish hazel color, warm. the laugh lines by them are charming.

"oh," he grins. "do you get coffee stains often?"

you twist your mouth to the side and glance at the windows of the coffee shop. he's teasing you and you'd be remiss if you said you don't want to play along. "more than I'd like to admit."

you can feel him looking at you with that stupidly brilliant smile and it's really setting you off-kilter. someone shouldn't be that attractive; it's not fair. and yet you want desperately to stare, if purely for the sake of aesthetic enjoyment.

"I'm Matthew." he extends his hand, which is decorated with a series of rings. you realize that you don't even know his name.

"Y/N." you shake. his fingers are softer than you expected.

"nice to meet you, Y/N."

"and under such fortuitous circumstances." the corners of your mouth turn up as you relax a little.

he laughs at your words, the delightful ring of it interrupted by a new Americano showing up on the counter. he glances at the to-go cup, then at you, then goes to get his drink. you wish you knew what he was thinking, but he's not displaying anything past friendliness.

"well, um." something like disappointment settles in your stomach as you recognize this will be the last of your interaction. there's no reason for him to stick around, and you need to get back home to work, anyway.

"I'll let you get back to your day." Matthew doesn't seem nervous, just unsure as he grips the coffee in his hand. you open and close your mouth like something impressive enough to keep him here will come out. you know it won't.

and then you remember the state of affairs, the existence of your useless car and the useless phone in the front seat, how you're going to have to call Triple A and then your roommate to come get you.

Matthew realizes that you aren't going to say anything and he gives you one last smile and an awkward wave before turning to go. you watch in silence as he crosses the room to the door. two more seconds until he's out of your life forever. so of course you choose this exact moment to speak.

"wait."

his head jerks suddenly to look at you. this is embarrassing, but you have nothing to lose.

"can I... borrow your phone?"

Matthew tilts his head to the side slightly, frowning as though deeply confused. and you suppose it is a strange thing to ask, especially given that you're a younger person and most people your age carry their phones everywhere. "sure." he walks back over to you, pulling his cell out of his pocket.

"I just--" you fumble with the device while you decide how to phrase it without sounding like a pathetic mess. "my car keeps breaking down and my phone battery is, like, totally fucked, so it just turns off and on constantly and it’s still in my car but it’s raining and I just wanna see if it’s back on so I can call my roommate." you immediately cringe at yourself. the rambling isn’t cute.

he’s not too bothered by your panicking, though, his mouth only forming an O shape. "it’s no problem."

you dial your number, fingers trembling while he waits. he's turned his eyes to the rest of the coffee shop, but it still makes you nervous that he's standing right there. you put the cell to your ear and pray that it rings out.

you’re greeted by the sound of your own voice telling you to leave a message. great. with a frustrated sigh, you hang up and Matthew gives you an inquisitive expression.

“it’s still off,” you explain. “I’m gonna call my roommate.”

he nods and shoves his hands into his pockets while you punch in the other number. for a split second, you peek his way and admire his side profile. he really is something to behold; a model, maybe.

"hello?" good thing Cecilia has no problem answering unknown numbers. you bite your lip.

"hey, it's me."

"Y/N? whose phone are you using?"

"uh, someone I just met--" you frown as you try to find a way to describe him without something as insulting as a random guy. "anyway, my car broke down so I was wondering if you could pick me up."

there's a pause on the other end of the line, like the movement of sheets and the slightly disappointed groan of another person. she probably has her boyfriend over again. "sure, of course. where are you?"

you give her the address and hang up before dialing the car repair company. Matthew gestures to a table off to the side so that you two don't need to stand, and then you sit down across from him. you're so distracted by the person on the other end of the line that you don't even think about it.

Matthew twists his rings on his fingers. he's fidgety and it's sort of cute. you try not to stare at his hands, at the black spot of ink on the outside of his pinky. either he writes a lot or he's an artist. you have to focus on the table in order to keep from blushing.

finally, you finish up with the phone and hand it back to him. "you're a life saver."

"do you want me to wait with you until your friend gets here?" he gestures out the window. your immediate reaction is to say yes. it'll be awkward to sit here alone without your phone, without coffee. but you don't want to keep him any longer than you already have.

"it's okay, I'm sure you have places to be." you smile accommodatingly. he chooses his next words carefully, it seems.

"I don't, really. but I'll leave you alone if that's what you want, too." the way he speaks, offering his company without trying to impose... something about it makes your heart melt a bit. you appreciate his thoughtfulness. it makes you want to know more.

"okay," you nod as you make your decision. "if you wanna stay. it shouldn't be too long."

"great," he settles back into his chair, the light from the café lights above you reflecting off the lenses of his glasses. "why does your car keep breaking down?"

you exhale sharply at the thought. "that's a really good question, because I don't know the answer. it's super old and I'm too broke to afford a new one."

he nods.

Matthew's mind turns to different avenues at this knowledge. he knows you're young and that usually means that there isn't a lot of spare income. and he doesn't know if you have a job. but what he does know is that you've got an energy about you-- a sweet, well-intentioned manner that draws him in. every once in a while throughout the conversation, you throw out certain phrases that hint at a quick-witted intelligence.

you're funny, but not boldly so. and when you two get on the topic of how you ended up rain-soaked, shoving your way into a Los Angeles café, you tell him about your day.

"--and I have this shitty job right now working for one of my old professor's friends, so it's not like I can afford to constantly repair the damages. all my money is going towards my savings so I can pay for grad school, anyway." you sigh. he listens intently to your words, and he never shies away from eye contact. every time he nods along, you practically feel your heart leap.

"what do you do?" he asks.

"I write for a wellness magazine, but I'm sort of a fraud." you joke.

he laughs. "why's that?"

"I don't know, a lot of it is about different yoga methods and meditation, stuff like that-- but I don't do any of that in my daily life." you admit. it should be embarrassing, but you don't feel ashamed of the fact. he seems to find it funny.

"working your way toward a different kind of job, then?"

"I'm hoping for a more editorial role, honestly, but..." you lift your eyes to his. they're bright, he notices; full of a deep-rooted hope. "gotta start somewhere, right?"

"very true." Matthew wants to tell you just how much he understands, about the roles as an actor he's taken and the hours he spent making films in college, just hoping that one day he'd be able to make things on his own, but he doesn't want to scare you away or sound like he's bragging. it's not your fault you don't know who he is.

"sorry," you speak through a silence he doesn't realize he's left between you two. "I've talked your ear off and you don't even really know me. what do you do?"

"oh--" Matthew actually blushes this time. you see the pink creeping up his neck. "I'm an actor."

in the same way they did when you ran into him, your eyes widen. "an actor?"

"yeah," he smiles at the expression on your face. "you know that show, Criminal Minds?"

the name is familiar, but you've never seen an episode. "yeah, of course."

"I'm in that."

you don't know a lot about the program, but you've heard it talked about and you know that it's a popular show. so this guy is an actual actor, not just some LA wannabe. that makes him about five times more intimidating. you feel even more idiotic for not seeing it before.

"oh, shit," the words tumble out. Matthew grins at the bluntness of your reaction, and you scramble to recover. "sorry I didn't know who you are."

"no worries!" he laughs it off. "it's not a big deal."

"do you like it?" you ask. "being famous, I mean."

he shifts in his seat for a second as he makes a face like he doesn't know how to answer. you wonder if there's something deeper to him that you just haven't seen, yet. secret feelings about the subject. "I'm really not very famous, but I love the work."

genuinely humble. you can see it in his face, the sparkle in his eyes. and maybe he's just charming and you're just a girl blinded by his attractiveness, but your gut tells you that he's being real.

this time, you're the one who falls silent. admittedly, you get a little in your head sometimes. and it makes sense, now, the smoothness of his behavior and the sheer beauty of his face. this is a show business city-- of course he's famous.

Matthew's phone rings and he jumps, as if jolted from a dream. your attention moves immediately to the screen and you recognize Cecilia's number. he pushes the device over to you.

"hello?" your voice sounds far away.

"hey, I'm here. where are you?" she says.

"I'm just inside the café."

"oh, okay, I'll park and come in--" you hear the click of a seatbelt and start to panic. she can't see you in here with him.

"no!" you say too loudly. Matthew's head jerks up to frown at you.

"why not?" Cecilia asks, confused.

"no reason," god, you're a bad liar. "I'll come out and we can wait for the Triple A person in your car." you and Matthew make eye contact again. he gives you an understanding smile. your stomach flips.

"sounds good." she hangs up and you grab your umbrella. time to go.

"thanks for letting me use your phone." you stand, not really wanting to say goodbye but also lacking a reason to stay. he remains in his spot, seemingly now settled into this little corner of the café. it sort of suits him, this place. all cozy and slightly strange.

“happy to help.” you notice the tip of his tongue dart out over his bottom lip as if deliberating whether or not to say anything further. but he doesn’t and you feel awkward just standing there by the table.

“I’ll, uh…” you could ask for his number. but that would be weird, right? he doesn’t really seem to have an interest, anyway. “I’ll see you around, then.”

“yeah. it was nice to meet you, Y/N.” he gives one more of those killer smiles and you turn around, almost bumping into a display of coffee beans before correcting yourself and heading back outside.

taglist (lmk if you want to be added or removed!): @la-vie-en-amour1 @reidsconverse @voidsfilm

#mgg #matthew gray gubler #mgg x reader #fic #sugar daddy mgg #matthew gray gubler fanfiction

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starlessea · 3 years

Text

Here Comes the Sun: XI. Time is Running Out (Daryl Dixon/Reader)

Series Masterlist: Here Comes the Sun

Summary: Daryl Dixon scares the hell out of you climbing out of that damn creek. It takes hauling his ass halfway across Georgia and taking a bullet for him to realise that you're not half bad. He slowly starts to come around, despite grumbling about how much he doesn't like your singing, or that you can't use a gun for shit - and don't get him started on that ugly yellow tent of yours. It takes him a while before he starts to see for himself that he's found a best friend for life, and that he doesn't actually mind the colour yellow that much, after all.

Words: 7954

Chapter Warnings: Language, Implied trauma, Violence and injury.

You were running. Every corridor connected into another one, each less familiar than the last. The muffled groans and sluggish footsteps got louder with every passing minute, as you felt yourself lose energy. You slammed another door open and ran down the next dark hallway, squinting as the lights flickered dimly to illuminate the dead.

Eventually, you reached a set of double doors and flew through them, not stopping to look back. Your lungs burned as you panted, and your legs felt unstable under you. Quickly, you turned the corner, only to see the dead end it concealed. Your knees buckled beneath you as you let out a sob, hands trembling uncontrollably. The undead closed in on you, swarming the doors and creeping through the crack one by one.

You pressed your back against the wall, scurrying to crawl away as you watched them approach. It was then that you spotted the first walker break through, trudging forward with its legs dragging behind. It was a man. It had been a man. It was tall and large, with a build nearly double your size. Despite the pale greyness of its eyes, you swore that its gaze leered over you in a way that made your skin crawl.

It gurgled as it got closer, blackish blood coming up from its mouth and splattering the floor by your feet. You noticed the wound on its chest, like a gunshot, that oozed each time it took a step. It got closer, reaching out a grubby hand and gripping onto the collar of your vest. You let out a scream as its snapping jaws hovered above your face, almost as if trying to say something. Yet, all that came out was watery groans as the blood spattered onto you. Despite it being dead, you almost felt its breath over your cheek before it lunged.

You bolted upright in your sleeping bag, bringing a hand to your face and neck to check the skin there. Heaving, your chest swelled as you gasped for breath, and your ribcage felt like it might burst open from the force. You whipped your head around, taking in the surroundings of your tent. The yellow canvas walls remained the same as they always were, and your polaroid string hung above you like a faulty dreamcatcher.

As you tried to regulate your breathing, you wiped your forehead and the back of your neck, trying to soak up some of the sweat that had formed there. It was the same nightmares as usual. You'd been having them for a few days following the incident at the bar - especially since Randall still remained in the Greenes' barn, not even a few minutes walk from where you slept.

The light stung your eyes and you rubbed the corners of them forcefully. Your sleep was usually disrupted, and you'd wake up periodically in the nights - so you often slept in now as a result. You hadn't told anyone about it, but you didn't have to. Daryl had noticed. The two of you had become closer after the incident, with him looking out for you a lot more than he usually did. He made sure that you didn't go anywhere near the barn, and had a lot to say when Rick decided on sparing the boy held prisoner within it.

In truth, Daryl had been your comfort these last couple of days. On the nights where you woke up in tears, drenched in your own sweat, he'd be conveniently sat near the firepit when you came outside to get some air. He'd say that he was keeping watch, but wouldn't go back to bed when you offered to take over - always waiting until you left, first. Even in the daytime, after you'd come around following a bitter cup of coffee, he wouldn't push you away if you wrapped yourself around his shoulders or grabbed his hand excitedly to show him something.

Sometimes, he'd even let you crawl into his tent when you wanted to ramble, listening for a while before his patience met its limit and he kicked you out. Still, you weren't sure what you'd have done without him. The sight of that shy smile of his, the one that crinkled the corners of his eyes when he thought no one was looking - that was enough to keep you going when you had your doubts. Before you knew it, you realised that you would give anything to hear one of his shallow laughs, even if it meant making a fool out of yourself to pay for it.

Once you had settled down a bit, you pulled on a pair of jeans over your legs, to go with the button-up shirt you had slept in. Your curly hair was matted from the sweat, so you tied it up and away from your face rather than even attempting to comb out the knots. You were sure that you looked a bit of a state, but you didn't give it a second thought as you unzipped the yellow submarine and stood out into the morning air.

It had started getting a little colder, the dew collecting on the grass and forming little droplets that wet the toes or your boots. There was a slight chill in the air, where the breeze had picked up, but it wasn't quite cold yet. Still, you huddled the material of the shirt closer to your body and folded your arms, looking at the archer who sat a few feet over from you.

He glanced up for a second and gave you a curt nod, drawing his eyes away from what he was doing.

"You look like hell." He noted, not even looking at you as he said it.

Daryl sat on one of the tree stumps near the fire pit, head hanging down to focus on his hands. He had a rusted pocket knife in his palm, and was using it to sharpen one of the arrows he was making. You'd seen him do it before, watching mesmerised as he worked with the efficiency of a master craftsman. His hair seemed to be getting longer, compared to when you had first met him, and now draped a little in front of his eyes when he looked down. A few nights ago you'd teased him and asked if he was growing a mullet, but in reality you rather liked it.

You shot him a wide grin, dusting off your jeans as you took a seat beside him, ruffling his hair between your fingers in greeting.

"Then you must be heaven, angel." You winked, hoping that the teasing would distract from the grogginess of your voice. "Good morning." You added, seeing him shake his head at you.

He didn't grumble nearly as much at your jokes anymore. Sometimes, he'd even make some back. You enjoyed the playful banter, and the way it made your heart race when he let out the occasional deep laugh at you.

"You still wearin' that?" He asked, not even looking up.

You realised that he was referring to your button-up flannel shirt - the one he had given you. Most nights you slept in it, but you avoided wearing it in the daytime in case people noticed who it originally belonged to. In your half-awake state you must have forgotten to change out of it.

"Problem?" You quipped back too quickly, and you saw him roll his eyes at your defensiveness. "You said I could keep it." You reasoned.

Daryl hummed in response, blowing the wood shavings away from the stick he'd been carving.

"Looks like a dress on ya." He drawled, finally shooting you a sidewards glance and raising an eyebrow as he did so.

You beamed a smile at him, running your fingers over the material that draped down almost to your knees, and remembering how it had looked on him.

"And?" You questioned, crossing your arms over your chest. "It's comfy." You explained, before asking why he minded so much.

He ignored you, continuing to shave down the arrow in his hands carefully. You didn't relent, standing up so that you were directly in front of him, and giving a small twirl to show off the shirt.

"Are you missing it?" You teased, trying to prompt him to look up. "Do you want it back?" You poked, walking around the log he was sitting on so that you were behind him while he worked.

Daryl let out a small sigh at your antics, putting down the blade and resting the arrow beside him. You didn't give him time to turn around and scold you, slipping your arms over his shoulders and around him before he could. Your chin rested just above the crook of his neck, and you could feel the wisps of his hair tickling at your cheek.

"What would you do for it?"

You'd wanted to joke with him, but it came out like more of a shy whisper as you lost your nerve. Your cheeks were nearly pressed together and you could feel the heat radiate off his skin. His heartbeat was quick beneath your palms where they rested, clasped over his chest. It felt like you had handfuls of butterflies, fluttering nervously there. You suddenly felt your own pulse pick up, as your playfulness started to seem a lot less innocent than it had only a few moments ago.

Someone cleared their throat from behind you, and you instantly flung yourself back from the man in shock. It was clumsy, and you'd almost taken the archer with you as you slipped on the damp grass beneath your feet. Daryl shot you a glare after he had recovered, grumbling about how you'd almost choked him.

You heard a chuckle and turned to see Glenn watching the exchange, his baseball cap in his hands. Quickly, you fumbled out an apology which sounded more like an excuse, explaining how he'd startled you. He shook his head before giving your shoulder a squeeze.

"Sorry to interrupt." He started, looking between you and Daryl. The other man stayed silent, going back to his work like he'd never taken a break from it. "Could I borrow you for a minute?" Glenn continued, gesturing to you.

You raised an eyebrow at him before he explained. "I'm doing some work on the RV with Dale. We could use some help and everyone else is busy."

You looked over at Daryl, and then back at Glenn, before agreeing. You gave the man a small wave as you said goodbye, not really sure of how to act around him now. You didn't know whether it was what you had done that made you shy, or the fact that Glenn had caught you doing it. In truth, you hadn't really planned for anything to happen, but you got caught up in the moment without realising it. You tried not to think about what could have played out if Glenn hadn't showed up.

Daryl gave you a quick nod as you left, and you and Glenn started walking towards the RV. In the distance, you could see Dale lounging on the roof of the vehicle, under his parasol like usual. He had his binoculars in his hands and gave the pair of you a wave when he saw you together.

"So," Glenn dragged, catching your attention, "what was that?"

"What was what?" You bit back, feigning ignorance.

The man didn't buy it, knowing you better than your cheap lies by now.

"You know what." He said, with an air of certainty about him. "You and Daryl, just now."

You stayed silent, not wanting to give anything away. In all honesty, you weren't sure yourself about what had happened back there, and didn't really know how to answer. If you were being truthful, you definitely felt something for the man. You had done for a while. Daryl, on the other hand, you weren't sure about. How long had it taken him just to be accepting of your touch, and not shy away from your hugs? How many hours had the two of you spent together before he stopped looking at you with distrust, or flinching away if you moved too suddenly. At this point, you were content with what the two of you had. Or, you tried to convince yourself that you were.

"I saw that whole thing back there." Glenn carried on, catching you lost in your own thoughts.

"Yeah?" You questioned, giving him a side-eye glance as you smirked. "Well I see you and Maggie sneaking off to the stables at night, but you don't hear me saying anything about it."

Glenn inhaled sharply beside you, seeming to choke on whatever reply he had planned. You let out a snort at his expression, and clapped your hand over his back as the two of you reached the RV.

"Choose your battles carefully, Rhee." You warned him teasingly, watching as he squirmed under your touch.

"Yes, Ma'am."

The three of you worked together on the RV for a while before taking a short break. It was mostly Dale instructing you to pass him tools and run to ask Hershel if he had the things you were missing. You were pretty clueless when it came to any kind of vehicle, so you tried to absorb as much as you could, mentally matching the names with all of the parts that Dale showed you. Glenn seemed to know much more, having spent a lot of time with the older man during the day. Surprisingly, you all got along really well and even cracked some jokes as you scrambled to remember which screwdriver head was which.

Glenn eventually excused himself to go and help T-Dog out with something, and Dale left you 'in charge' of the toolbox, as he put it, as he left to go with him. You hadn't been there long, sitting on the steps of the trailer in a daze by yourself, before Maggie had come out of the farmhouse with a pitcher of lemonade for you all. She sat down next to you, offering you a glass. You took a gulp, feeling the coolness run down the back of your throat as the ice cubes hit your teeth. It was really refreshing.

"Glenn told me about you and Daryl this mornin'." She looked over at you with a grin.

You rolled your eyes at her, wondering when the man had even had time to say anything. He'd only gone into the farmhouse for all of five minutes to use the bathroom, before you all had started work on the RV. That boy never ceased to amaze you with his ability to run his mouth. You already felt exasperated by all of the questioning, and you hadn't even begun to start answering your own yet.

"There's nothing to tell." You corrected, but her smile didn't let up. "I already warned your boyfriend to worry about his own dirt, instead of trying to dig up other people's."

You shot her a look that you thought would tell her to drop it, but she didn't take the hint. Or, she didn't care to, more accurately.

"He thinks you're sleepin' together." She said matter of factly, taking a sip of her own lemonade nonchalantly and ignoring your expression.

Your eyes widened in disbelief, totally not expecting those words to come out of the mouth of a farmer's daughter. Then again, you knew what she and Glenn got up to when they thought nobody else was around.

"Maggie!" You gasped, slapping her shoulder.

The lemonade spilt out of the top of her glass slightly, and splashed onto her jeans.

"What? I didn't say it." She frowned at you, wiping the stain. "Can you blame him?" She asked, cocking an eyebrow in your direction.

You usually felt like you could talk to Maggie about anything, and rarely got embarrassed at any of the details she shared with you, either. Yet, you couldn't help but feel a bit dumbstruck at the allegation. The thought of you and Daryl - sweet and shy Daryl Dixon - sleeping together had just tipped you over the edge like lemonade in a glass.

Maggie went on, ignoring your stunned silence. "The two of you got ya tents away from the rest of your group, and hang around each other most of the goddamn day." She pointed out, nodding her head in the direction of your camp in the distance.

"That's not fair." You pouted. "He's my friend, and I spend the same amount of time with you and Beth as I do him." You defended, but she crossed her arms and gave you a once over - making an obvious point of looking you up and down.

"You're wearing his shirt." She said flatly, glancing at it like she'd been waiting to bring up the observation for a while now.

"And some days I wear yours!" You retorted, raising your voice in desperation.

You stood up from the step, and Maggie laughed at how flustered she'd made you.

Before she could add anymore, you spotted Glenn walking back to the RV with a dumb smile on his face, totally oblivious of the chaos he'd caused. You shot him a glare, causing Maggie to look over in his direction.

"Glenn Rhee, get your ass over here now!" You yelled at him, and watched as his face fell.

He looked over at Maggie, who just shrugged her shoulders and collected the empty glasses. She gave Glenn a quick peck on the cheek before whispering something about him being on his own, before leaving to return to the farmhouse.

"Ah shit." He muttered below his breath, looking over at you with a sheepish smile.

You stayed by the RV well into the evening, after chewing out Glenn and sending him on his way. You'd offered to put all of the tools back since Dale wanted to go out for a walk and check on the fences around the area. He gave you a warm smile as he left, offering you a 'thanks, kid' that reminded you of your own grandfather. You didn't even try to argue back with him that you were in your twenties, just sending a smile his way in return.

It was already dark outside, since the seasons were changing and making the world seem more shadowy at earlier and earlier hours each day. You had borrowed a jacket from Beth the last time she came out, handing you a sandwich in place of the dinner you'd skipped. The air was chilly and you were grateful for the extra layer protecting you against the cool night's kiss. The breeze rustled the leaves and made a few flutter down to the ground, next to your feet.

It was peaceful, and you could see the warm light flicker through the windows of the Greene farmhouse. The rest of the group were out doing perimeter checks and mending some of the fences, so it was just you standing as the sole guard of a rundown RV. Once you had finished organising the array of screwdrivers back into their meticulous places, just as Dale had instructed, you closed the toolbox and secured it shut by the latch.

You sat back onto the step, rolling your stiff shoulders and wishing that Daryl was here to give you one of his Spartan massages that hurt so bad but felt so good. You scarcely had time to relax before a scream had you bolting upright and alert. It was in the distance, you could tell, but it was definitely a scream.

Immediately, you rushed inside the RV to retrieve one of the pistols from the gun bag there, before setting off running in the direction of the yells. It didn't take you long to notice the group that had gathered near the end fence of one of the fields, close to the woods. You kept your pistol lowered in your hand as you jogged towards them, still not able to make out what they were all crowded over.

As you got closer, you saw how Lori was shielding Carl from the scene and prepared yourself for whatever you were about to witness. It didn't take long before it came into view, the sight of Dale on the ground and the dispatched walker beside him. It was horrifically graphic. The man you'd been joking with not even an hour before now laid there with his entire chest cavity exposed. It was so violent that you weren't able to tear your eyes away as he gurgled the familiar sound of death from his throat, like the one you heard in your nightmares.

It looked as though his ribs had been pried open and you could only watch as the older man suffered. His eyes met yours, pupils wide and dilated as he tried to speak. You stared back helplessly before someone stood in front of you, blocking your view. The printed angel wings told you who it was before you even looked up.

You watched the ground as you heard the familiar cocking of a pistol, and your eyes rested on the fishing hat that had fallen a few feet away. Images flashed through your mind of Dale wearing it, and him putting it on Carl's head occasionally to swap it out with his sheriff's one. You kept your gaze on it, lying abandoned in the grass, as Daryl spoke to the man.

"Sorry, brother." He said, and pulled the trigger.

That night you returned to your tent alone, trailing slowly behind the others, and thought about that hat and the man who wore it. Glenn had picked it up and taken it with Rick and Shane, as they went to dig a grave for Dale. You kept thinking back to a few days ago, and how you'd all sat around the fire of the main camp, spread out on the deckchairs one night. Even Daryl had joined you, as you had bribed everyone to endure your company with the promise of Jack Daniels.

You brought the bottle with you in your satchel, taking a seat by the fire pit next to Dale, who shook his head when you took it out. You offered him a small smile and shrugged, telling him that you'd come across it whilst scavenging with Glenn and Maggie. As the others arrived, you poured some shots to whoever wanted any, and made them swear not to tell Hershel.

The night had been a small dose of escapism washed down with whiskey. There wasn't enough for you all to get completely drunk, but the tipsiness definitely settled in and got you all loosened up and giggling. At some point, Glenn had devised a game that resembled 'never have I ever,' but even got the people who weren't drinking involved.

Much to Dale's dismay, the slightly buzzed man had pulled the hat from his head and stated that whoever wore it had to answer one question completely truthfully. The fishing cap then made its way around the circle, as you listened to Shane talk about stealing a car, T-Dog's videogame collection, and how Carol had once put laxatives in Ed's coffee.

"You're kidding!" Andrea yelled in disbelief, when it was finally your turn. "There's no way you have a tattoo."

"I do." You smiled, taking a sip of your drink and feeling it numb the back of your throat. "And no, I'm not showing it to you." You winked at her, causing the group to laugh.

"It's in a risky spot, ain't it?" Shane teased, looking over his glass at you with a cheeky grin.

"No!" You shouted at him, which gained even more laughter from the onlookers.

Shane shook his head at you with a smile. "Yeah, whatever you say."

Lori piped up from where she sat. She wasn't drinking, now that she was pregnant, but she seemed content enough from the atmosphere.

"I can't believe you have one." She spoke, looking you up and down slightly as if trying to guess where it was. "I never pictured you the type."

You snorted at her words. "What? Just because I was a teacher for a short while?" You teased, crossing your arms.

People usually made the same assumptions about you, even before the world had ended. You had an education from a prestigious university, bright eyes and that naive look. It was only natural that most people didn't consider you as the type to hang around at rock concerts with your father or work part-time shifts at the bars he played at when they were understaffed.

"I have fifteen piercings, too." You added, feeling generous with your information.

Rick shook his head at you with doubt, and you found it refreshing to see the sheriff look so relaxed.

"What? Where?" He questioned, squinting his eyes at you. "How come we haven't seen them?"

"Because I keep my hair down most of the time." You explained, before tucking the strands behind your ears to reveal them.

A few members of the group came over to get a closer look, and you grinned like an excited puppy, showing off the metal jewelry to them.

"And I have my belly button done." You added, pointing to your stomach but not lifting your vest to show them.

T-Dog watched you with suspicion across the campfire, as if he couldn't entirely figure you out. His eyes were narrowed and you shot him your best grin as he stared you down half-heartedly.

"None of this fits my image of you." He admitted, and a few people agreed.

You shrugged your shoulders, pouring yourself another shot and not caring whether or not you should slow down. You felt better than you had in a long time. Even though your head felt a little fuzzy and your throat burned each time you knocked your glass back, you couldn't put a price on the laughter you all shared and the memories each of you recalled.

"What do you want me to say?" You asked sarcastically. "Pretend that I spent most of my time at libraries and not gigs, listening to Led Zeppelin?"

You heard a low chuckle beside you, as Daryl took the bottle from your hand and poured some more into his own glass.

"Thought you said you were borin'." He drawled, his accent even thicker from the whiskey.

"I am now!" You said loudly, throwing your hands up in defeat.

The others laughed a bit at that, before you went on, prying at the other man who had refused the hat of truth when it came his way. You'd tried to force it on that stubborn head of his, but had only succeeded in spilling one of the glasses and getting a scolding from Lori.

"What about you, Dixon." You eyed him where he sat. "I can't even imagine you existing before all of this." You admitted.

He raised an eyebrow at you, but you continued. "It's like you were built to survive an apocalypse."

You saw the others nod in agreement, staying silent to listen for the man's response. A few of them had seemed surprised that Daryl was even participating, and now looked even more confused at how the two of you interacted with each other.

"What d'you mean?" He asked, taking a swig from his glass.

You smiled to yourself before answering. "I don't know." You confessed, before addressing the rest of the group. "Can the rest of you picture Daryl Dixon mundanely watching TV, and eating pizza instead of squirrel?"

That joke got a lot of approval from them, as you saw Carol let out a snort in the corner of your eye, holding onto her own small drink with both hands.

"Shut up." Daryl grumbled in response, but you saw the slight smile that lingered on his face.

After that, you had placed Dale's hat back on the older man's head and gave him a hug before turning in for the night. You felt giddy from alcohol and good company, and had squeezed him tightly before telling him that no one else suited that old, raggedy fishing cap as much as he did.

The next morning after Dale's death was hard, but you'd all had practice in dealing with death by now. The funeral was carried out quickly, and Rick made a speech about how the group needed to honour Dale by being more in sync with their decisions - referring especially to Randall. You all then gave a few words, and said your goodbyes. Glenn had made a small wooden cross as a marker for his grave, and hung the fishing cap on top of it at the end of the informal ceremony.

After that, the Greenes had tried to distract you all by telling you to pack your things up and prepare to move into their farmhouse for winter. Given that they'd become a lot closer to you all in the last few weeks, and that Lori was now pregnant, they said that it was only reasonable. It would be a bit of squeeze to fit you all in, they admitted, but it would be better than freezing outside in flimsy tents exposed to the elements.

So, there you were, collecting your belongings and putting them into your worn satchel with care. You didn't have much, save for your polaroids, some clothes and your knife. The only things you had left to pack down were your sleeping bag and your yellow submarine, so you decided to go and check how Daryl was doing before you continued.

The two of you hadn't had much time to talk about the events of last night, barely exchanging a few glances and letting your palms brush against each other during the funeral. He'd gone through a lot in the last couple days, being left with the dirty work of torturing Randall and having to shoot Dale. Even if he seemed alright, you thought that he probably held some guilt for what had happened. You knew that you certainly did. You spent the night wondering why you hadn't gone with the older man, wishing that you'd gotten there sooner.

You clambered out of your tent with your satchel strapped over your chest, before walking a few steps over to Daryl's. His tent was unzipped, and you poked your head around the entrance to see him crouched inside, collecting his arrows and the few possessions he had scattered around. You watched him in silence for a moment, as if trying to find any sign of distress before he noticed you.

"Don' worry yourself, Sunshine." The man grumbled, sensing you.

He didn't even look up from what he was doing, which made you jump in surprise at having been caught.

"Jus' go pack down yer own tent." He instructed, folding up a pile of his clothes and stuffing them into a backpack.

"Sunshine?" You questioned, wondering whether or not the nickname was sarcastic, as you continued to watch him with suspicion.

You crouched down in the entryway, debating whether or not to go in.

"Look, Daryl-" you started gently, but he cut you off midway.

"'M fine." He said sternly. "Don't need no therapy session every time one of us kills someone."

You let out a sigh, deciding to go inside. You crawled your way past him, making yourself comfortable on top of his sleeping bag while he worked around you.

"I don't know about you, but I'm not planning on making it a habit." You admitted gently, seeing him stop what he was doing and look over at you.

"Ain't about what ya want. It's about survivin'." He corrected gruffly, his eyes meeting yours.

You gave him a sad smile before responding. "I know. But I don't want to live like that." You said. "There's a difference."

He shook his head, sitting back so that he was opposite you.

"Ain't no difference when yer dead." He muttered, and you could make out the slight flicker of pain behind his eyes.

You looked down to your hands, gathering your thoughts. You weren't sure whether you wanted to make yourself vulnerable to man by telling him your true feelings on the matter, but you felt like you needed to. You owed him that much.

"When I was out there alone, before I found you that day-" you started, recalling the days that seemed like a lifetime ago to you now. "That was surviving."

The man listened to you silently, his stare heavy as he took you in.

"At first, I was just grateful to be alive." You admitted, feeling ashamed to say the words out loud. "My camp, they were the brave ones."

You saw as Daryl started to shake his head to disagree, but you didn't let him interrupt.

"I just ran away and hid." You confessed, voice small as you said it. "After that I realised how unfair it all was."

Daryl stayed silent for a few seconds, before responding.

"What was unfair?" He asked, his words gravelly.

You met his eyes, already feeling like you'd revealed too much to him.

"How us cowardly would always be the last ones standing." You said softly, looking back down at your hands and thinking of all the people they failed to protect.

This time, Daryl responded quickly, moving closer to you so that you heard his words clearly.

"Ya ain't no coward." He spoke, his face near yours as he tried to catch your gaze.

You met it, fighting the urge to look away as the intensity made you want to tremble.

"You're a force, Teach." He told you, like it was a fact.

He stared at you for a few seconds, as though waiting for you to accept it.

You nodded at him eventually, letting out a small sigh as you realised that you'd been holding your breath.

"I don't want to just survive anymore, Daryl." You told him. "I want to live. I want a life that I'm okay with fighting to protect." You continued, feeling your voice grow stronger with each passing second.

Daryl remained still where he sat, giving you his entire attention.

"I know you hear me at night." You confessed, thinking back on the times you'd woken up yelling at invisible figures, or panting to try and catch your breath.

You caught his eyes flicker, as he fidgeted a bit and stretched out his legs.

"You pretend like you don't, but I know you do." You went on. "When I wake up from a bad dream you've always got your lantern lit, or sometimes you'll get up just to toss a log on the fire, and make an excuse that you can't sleep."

You smiled to yourself as you watched him feign ignorance, as though he needed to keep up an act you both knew had broken. No matter the type of man Daryl Dixon pretended to be, you saw straight through him.

"I'm at a point where I don't regret it anymore." You continued, not really sure where you were going with your speech. "Killing those men." You clarified, seeing him tense as you did so.

"I know it makes me sound like a monster, but I'd rather let the nightmares haunt me if it means that my family won't."

You took a deep breath, wondering if you should carry on to the point where there was no turning back.

"If it means that I can sit here now, with you, and be thankful that I was the one who managed to pull the trigger first." You finished, afraid to look up and meet his eyes.

You felt entirely exposed to him, as you sat there on the scratchy material of his sleeping bag, running your hands over it for comfort.

"Is this it?" He asked after a few seconds.

"What?" You replied, watching as he shuffled about in front of you.

"Is this the life you want?" He muttered, his voice coming out strained.

You nodded your head. "It can be." You told him. "It is." You reiterated, more certain this time.

You felt like all of your thoughts and worries were spilling out before you, like tipped ink spreading over paper. You couldn't stop yourself from telling the man everything.

"We've lost people," you acknowledged, not missing the way he frowned as you said it, "Dale and Sofia." You continued. "We'll probably lose more."

"But, call me delusional, I still have hope." You said with a smile, wondering if you truly were fooling yourself.

Daryl seemed to think so too, furrowing his eyebrows at you.

"What're ya hopin' for?" He asked.

"I don't know." You answered.

"Some days it's for a cure to be found." You said, wistfully. "Others it's that we can all live peacefully on this farm until we grow old. Sometimes, I just want to find a matching pair of socks in my laundry." You finished with a slight chuckle.

"And recently, I've been hoping that it rains." You added, hoping that he wouldn't laugh at that one in particular.

He didn't, instead glancing out of the tent, towards the clouds gathered above it.

"Give it a couple days." He mumbled, and you didn't doubt him for a second.

"Yeah, I hope so." You responded, looking up at the sky, too.

You sat in his company for a bit longer as he resumed his packing like nothing had happened. He didn't seem to have much, either, but you still watched curiously as he went through it. After a short while you noticed him pick up a glossy magazine, and put it in one of the bags. You instantly recognised it as the one you'd given him before, from the gas station, about motorcycles. You were surprised that he'd kept it, since it had been a few weeks since then.

"Did you read it?" You questioned, before you even realised you had said it.

"Yeah." Daryl responded, matter of factly.

"And?" You pried, stretching out your legs to laze back further on his sleeping bag. "Got any tips for me?"

He scoffed at that, shooting you a glance as he zipped up the bag. "Don' fall off."

You rolled your eyes at him, before deciding to tease him back a little.

"Mark my words, Dixon." You pointed at him. "One day I'll be the one riding that thing and you'll be clinging onto me."

He didn't bite to it, sitting back down opposite you with a smug look on his face.

"You tryna give me nightmares now?"

When he finished, you reached for your satchel lying next to you, remembering one of the reasons you had come to see the man in the first place. You pulled out his flannel shirt from it, which you'd neatly folded earlier on, and offered it out to him.

"I was thinking that I should probably return this to you." You explained, as he gave you a confused look.

"Thought ya was gonna use it to bribe somethin' outta me." He quipped, snarkily.

You nodded at him, rubbing your thumb over the material.

"Yeah, I thought about it." You admitted. "But then I realised that we were all going to be staying in the Greenes' living room together from tonight. Practically on top of each other."

Daryl stared down at the shirt in your hands, but didn't take it from you. Instead, he leant back on his knuckles, as if moving even further away from it

"What's that have to do with 'nything?" He asked, and you wondered whether you were prepared to answer truthfully.

You thought back on the game you'd all played with Dale's fishing hat and wished that you were wearing it now, to be able to muster up some false courage.

"Well," you started, swallowing thickly, "then you'd realise that I sleep in it every night." You confessed, noticing how his expression changed a little. "And that would be embarrassing."

Suddenly, the silence started to seem stifling to you as you played with your hands in your lap, looking down at them. You felt your stomach flip as you awaited his response, but it never came. Instead of waiting any longer, you decided to get out of there before facing inevitable rejection. You cleared your throat and started packing up your satchel in a hurry.

"Anyway, I should go." You excused, trying not to appear flustered. "Got to haul anchor on the yellow submarine."

You picked up his shirt once again and held it out to him, looking over with pleading eyes and praying that he'd just take it so you could leave.

He didn't, shaking his head again at the gesture.

"Nah, it's yours." He said gruffly. "I don' care what ya do with it."

You spoke up, wondering if you were really willing to fight with this man over a shirt.

"You might not, but I'm sure the others would have something to say about it." You explained, thinking about how Maggie had picked up on it straight away when you'd worn it by accident the day before.

"Here." You said more sternly, placing it into his lap. "Back with its rightful owner."

Daryl took it from his lap and placed it beside him, as he fumbled around in his jean pocket and pulled out his zippo from it. He flicked it open with his thumb and you watched as the blue flame jumped up, before he closed it again.

"Got enough gifts from ya." He said, gesturing to the lighter before looking over to the backpack where he'd put the magazine earlier.

He then pointed to the shirt, laid out in the space between you like a bargaining chip. "What were ya wantin' for it?"

You realised that he was referring to what you had said earlier, before Glenn had interrupted, and recalled how dangerously close the two of you had been.

"Nothing." You choked out, but it sounded forced. "I was just teasing."

"Ya weren't." Daryl said with certainty, and you felt your resolve crumbling.

"You're right." You replied.

Your eyes flickered over the man sitting in front of you, at his skin that was glazed by the sun and how much time he spent outdoors recently, and at his pale, steely blue eyes that watched you, watching him. He seemed just as nervous as you were, as if waiting for something to happen - for either of you to make a move. Yet, Daryl Dixon was shy. He was a sweet man bundled up in layers of trust issues and insecurity, which sometimes reared their heads as anger and frustration.

You saw beneath that. You saw the way he looked out for the group, and how he was hurt more deeply than any of the others at the loss of one of them. You noticed how he'd be up earlier than anyone else, making sure it was safe, and then how he'd go to bed the latest, too. At the same time, you were almost certain that this wasn't the same man you hauled from the creek that day. He looked the same, give or take a few scars and want of a haircut, but he was different. You could tell how much he'd grown in just a short space of time. He was a good man before, even if people were often fooled by his abrasive exterior, but he was an even better one now.

You gave him a warm smile, and felt a lot calmer than you had done in a while. You knew it was now or never, and accepted that you were, in fact, willing to risk it all for Daryl Dixon.

"There's one more thing I've been hoping for, as of late." You admitted, moving from his sleeping bag to crawl over to where he sat.

He stayed still, watching with a shy look, glancing over you as you approached with caution. As you got closer to him, so close that you could almost feel the weight of his eyes lingering on you, you picked up the discarded shirt and showed it to him.

He looked down at it in your hands before meeting your eyes again. You let your gaze flicker over his face, taking in his shy expression, before settling on his lips. This is what you wanted in return for his shirt, and you needed him to realise that.

You noticed how nervous he looked, and how he seemed to hold his breath at the proximity you shared. You rested one of your hands over his, feeling how warm it was beneath your own, before asking him your question.

"Are you sure you still want it back?" You flicked your eyes to the shirt and back at him, making sure he understood what you meant.

His gaze rested on you for a few seconds, as you felt your breath catch in your throat waiting for his response. He nodded.

You smiled back, raising your other hand to cup his cheek gently, stroking over it with your thumb as you felt a wave of affection run through you for the man under your fingertips. They almost trembled against him, as you felt a mixture of nerves and pure, simple emotion swell to the surface. Though, you felt his hand squeeze your other one, where you held it, and relaxed into his touch that reassured you.

You closed your eyes and closed the remaining distance between you both, placing a chaste kiss on his lips that made you feel a lot more than you'd expected it to. He was warm, and sweet, and trembling slightly. It made you smile into the kiss, and press more firmly against his cheek to remind him you were there. Even though it was obvious that you were there, kissing him, you needed him to know that you felt the same as he did.

You pulled away slowly, trying not to push for more. Your hand left his face and rested back at your side, suddenly feeling empty. The silence was loud, but it was comfortable. Your ears weren't ringing as they usually did. Instead, you focused on the soft sounds of Daryl's breathing, and watched as his eyes flickered over you and down to your own lips with want, as you had done to his. Though, he didn't seem quite confident enough in himself to act on it, and remained still.

Your heart beat quickly in your chest from the adrenaline, and you decided not to tempt things any further with him, either. He didn't say a word for a few seconds, but you didn't feel any sign of rejection. You moved away from him a little, allowing him his space, before picking up his shirt for the final time and pressing it into his chest lightly.

"Now it's yours again." You offered him a warm smile, which you felt was perhaps too big for your face. He took it from you.

You found it hard to conceal what you were feeling, but the look in his eyes told you that he didn't mind all that much. You sat in wordless wonder for a few minutes, considering what to say or do next. The sky had darkened a little as the clouds blocked the sunlight, and you felt the breeze pick up as your exposed skin prickled at the chill.

Then, you heard footsteps as someone approached the tent in a run. You whipped your head over to see Rick appear, ducking his head through the entryway and looking at the both of you with wide eyes.

"I need you to come with me, now." He instructed. "Randall's escaped."

A/N ahhhhhhh. AHHHH. I was SO excited to write this chapter, I cannot even tell you. This is merely the BEGINNING - the first flicker of this SLOW BURN! Just you wait until that confession... I have big things planned ;)

As usual, drop me a message to be included in the tags list!

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@xxboesefrauxx @youhavemyfantasticbeasts @teel-dinosaur @greenbeansarelit @bunnymother93 @alularae3 @death-becomes-her @royaleclown @alex-sulli

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kimnjss · 3 years

Text

no right answer | knj

⤑ series: plot twist

⤑ pairing: rapper!namjoon x rich girl!reader

⤑ genre: angst... nd that’s pretty much it :/

⤑ rating: PG13

⤑ word count: 7.7K // unedited.

⤑ warnings: daddy jung makes an appearance... joon still doesn’t know how to communicate. yns feelings are hurt once again. they internally ramble a lot :/ and hoseok has a girlfriend.

⤑ chapter song: meet me in amsterdam - RINI

⤑ A/N: heyy! nothing much to say, sooo! enjoy nd let me know what you think x

MAY 23RD, 2020 | 18:10

The fact that you've shown up on Hyungwon's arm sets your father off way before you're entering the hall. You can tell by the pulsing of the vein above his brow, the grit in his teeth when you pass him, Hyungwon making a show of wrapping his arm around your waist, leading you inside before your father can get a word in.

Although, you're sure he'll find his opportunity at some point tonight.

Just as expected, gossip blog journalists, reports, the regular old press are all lining the front hall, waiting patiently for a word from the man who made this night possible. At least, that's the premise they're hiding under – it was more than obvious that they were silently hoping to witness something, anything that could be a headliner in the morning.

You do as you've been told, smile brightly at everyone that approaches, introduce Hyungwon as a close friend, chat up the new artists that your father's company plan to release in the upcoming months. Words flowing from your lips effortlessly, trained to dodge every prying question, every backhanded compliment. The practiced smile doesn't falter once.

Not even when the demanding flick of the fingers comes from your father across just a few feet away, behind his back of course, out of view from the woman reporter he's chatting with. Summoning you over silently, his first choice nowhere in sight. With a huff, you're politely ending the meaningless babble of the tag on your dress.

Hand pressed lightly to Hyungwon's chest, his arm doesn't drop from around you as the two of you make your way over to your father. Only making it halfway before he's shooing Hyungwon away, with the same discreetness he used to call you over. “I'll meet you inside,” You're mumbling with a roll of your eyes, easily able to guess that he's started his bullshit early.

Hesitant at first, but he's soon releasing you, placing a soft kiss to the top of your head that has the cameras around flashing. Great. The apologetic look on his face washes the scowl from your features. His lips shifting into a sheepish smile while he reaches his hand up to ruffle your perfectly styled hair. That has questions flying from the crowd, demanding to know if the two of you were an item.

“I'll see you inside,” He says with a curt nod of his head, turning to finish his journey into the hall. On his way, he's swept up by a man with a million questions and a mic. No time to worry about that now, instead you take the place beside your father.

And he pulls this surprised expression as if he didn't expect you to just show up. “Oh, there she is! We've been talking about your new position. Would you like to chime in?” You wouldn't have been asked to 'chime in' if the appropriate response hadn't been hammered into your head on the way over here.

Practiced smile. “It's an honor to work so closely with such great artists. Their work is promising and truly inspiring. We have a lot of plans for them in the future that I'm sure will be nothing short of impressive...” You begin to drown yourself out, thoughtlessly speaking as your eyes wander around the room. Seemingly on their own accord until your sight is fixing on someone.

Okay, not just someone. Namjoon. He looks nice. Although, you can tell he's wearing the same suit that he had worn to Jungkook's release. Did he only have one nice suit? You'd have to make a note of that for... quite literally shaking the thought from your head, you're turning back into the conversation. Laughing at something you don't even find funny. All while stealing glances across the room, not being able to keep yourself from wondering if he was stealing glances too.

He was. Like really bad too. From the moment Joon had stepped into the building, his eyes were finding you. Guided by the loud chatter around you, looking in time to catch the gentle pat of your boyfriend's hand on your head. The way you seemed to melt at the simple touch, he could do that. He was sure of it.

And then he can't tear his gaze off you. While you pull that fake smile of yours, only half-listening to the words that are being said to you. Laughing flatly and leaning into your dad, keeping up with the perfect father/daughter image that he had no idea was an act until he was meeting you. Talking to you. Now it was obvious. Even from across the room, he could tell that you were faking.

That you'd much rather be anywhere else.

“Ah! There's my little prodigy,” Your father speaks loud enough for everyone to hear, just in case they missed the dramatic cheers that echoed the moment he was stepping out of his car. Hoseok was here. A pretty redhead latched to his side, a sight that your father is surprised to see. He hated surprises.

Nevertheless, he's embracing your brother into a tight hug. Which to the press looks like an adorable father and son moment, but you know better. You've been on the receiving end of that hug before and judging from the frown that flashes over Hoseok's features, he's in trouble. But later, of course, there are millions of eyes watching right now – so the interview goes on with loud laughs and large smiles.

And for once, you're not the only one that's faking it.

MAY 23RD, 2020 | 18:49

“Come sit, Yn. Dinner is about to be served,” He doesn't leave any room for argument with the tone that he uses and you find it funny that he thinks that you're not going to try. “No thanks, I'm going to sit with my date,” Hyungwon has found his place amongst the other artists of his status, chatting loosely with them as he waits for you.

A timed twitch of your father's brow, he'd usually rely on Hoseok's easy coaxing to get you to comply without making a scene. But that trick is out of commission. Sat close with his pretty girlfriend, flirting openly. Ooh, the look on your father's face when he was introducing her to reports as his girlfriend. Not an ounce of uncertainty in his voice. 'Her? She's my girlfriend. Ti-lee. Isn't she gorgeous?'.

Didn't even spare a glance in your dad's direction, heart-shaped eyes saved for his girl. Expertly ignoring the subtle glares he was being sent whenever there was a chance. Your brother might be your hero. Seriously.

He's not about to beg you to come sit at the family table with him and Hoseok, that could risk giving away there is a reason why you wouldn't want to sit there in the first place. So instead, he's pushing a tight-lipped smile onto his lips, nodding his head before turning around. Exactly.

Hyungwon stands as you approach, pulling your chair out like a true gentleman. Leaning over to press his lips to your cheek and drop his arm around your shoulders, easily tucking you into his side. “How'd it go? Who's that with your brother?”

“His girlfriend. Can you believe it? Hoseok brought someone that wasn't approved and cleared by our dad first,” The shock in your tone matches the look on his face, which quickly melts into a smile.

A soft chuckle falls from his lips, his head shaking from side to side. “This isn't gonna end well,” His shoulders shake with his laughter, hands reaching to lift his glass. You giggle beside him, knowing all too well how right he is. Whether it was now or later, this was going to explode into a big mess. You were just glad you were in the clear for once.

Dinner starts.

Hoseok is between bites of his Wagyu steak when he's being hit with the dry monotone voice of the man beside him. A tone that he's not at all used to when he's being addressed by his father. It's usually reserved for you. “Where'd you find this girl?” He doesn't even bother to whisper, Ti-lee no doubt hearing him.

“I met her,” He feels it would be a bad idea to say that he met her at a party. Much less a release party held at the company. He knew all too well how his father felt about you mixing work and pleasure, he wasn't going down that lane.

Thankfully, he's not so much interested in the where, but more so the why. Mind reeling with all the upsetting outcomes that can come from this. Some random girl slipping in could potentially ruin everything he carefully constructed for his son's life. He knew first hand how vicious women can be when money's involved. “What does she do?”

“She's a model,” Hoseok's sweating, fumbling for the right string of words that can help him paint Ti-lee in an admirable light. There was nothing wrong with her. She was a great girl, all of the things you'd want your girlfriend to be. But his father's expectations were high, there was no telling what would be a deal-breaker.

He scoffs, head bowed to bring attention back to his plate in front of him. “That's not a real job,” He laughs to himself, head shaking in disbelief. There was no way his son would be so stupid... to think he could be with a model? The field that aged quickly, chewed up and spit out money-grabbing woman chasing youth. Nope, not his son. “We'll talk about this later,”

Putting an end to the conversation before Hoseok can get another word in. He's back to his meal, acting as if he hadn't shaken up his son's entire world. 'We'll talk about this later,'. Never was a good sign. Always met with an ultimatum when it came to you. He tries to act cool, be mindful of the millions of eyes watching at all times. But it's hard to hide the twinge of annoyance souring his face.

It wasn't fair. He didn't even get the chance to introduce Ti-lee properly, give his dad a chance to get to know her. Then he'd understand how easy it is to fall for her, Hoseok stood no chance when it came to her. And he didn't even get to say that, to show him why he just had to bring her around. Present her as his girlfriend, because he was so proud. So proud and his dad didn't even care.

It was not fair.

MAY 23RD, 2020 | 20:17

As the night moves on, Joon finds himself searching for you through the crowd. His eyes find you all throughout dinner, half-listening to the chatter from Taehyung and Yoongi and watching you. Even when you move to dance, hand resting delicately over Hyungwon's bicep, so very clearly showcasing who you're here with tonight. But he can't tear his eyes away.

Left standing as more and more people spread around the hall, busying themselves with light conversation as the musicians play louder for the many people who have decided to move on to the dance floor. You're at the center of them all, smiling prettily up at your boyfriend. Laughing, a very real laugh that he didn't realize he missed until now.

God, he missed you so much. And it was worse because you were right there. Right in front of him, laughing and smiling and being yourself. But he felt like now for some reason, he couldn't be apart of that. That you didn't want him to be because he couldn't get it together. Because he couldn't say what was on his mind.

So, now he was stuck watching you. Admiring you from afar and wishing that it was him in the place of the man you brought tonight. Exclusively. All he wanted was to be yours exclusively. He knew that wouldn't happen so easily... or at all.

“You're actually staring, dude. What's with you?” Hoseok's voice is breaking through his thoughts, two glasses of brown liquor in hand. Hand outstretching in offering, Joon thanks him with a smile and a nod of his head.

Embarrassingly, pulling his gaze away. He knew he had been doing it but had no idea that it was that obvious. Had you noticed too? Caught him staring while he was so lost in his thoughts of you. Not likely. You hadn't looked his way at all tonight. He was sure of it. “She doesn't look so annoying, tonight.” His shoulders lift in a shrug, that has Hoseok's eyebrows raising.

The number of times he's complained to your brother about how much you bothered him.

Who would've thought this would be the outcome. At first, all he wanted was for you to leave him alone. Bottle up your crush and give him some space so he can concentrate on his work. On what was important and now... now he was dying for a chance to go back. Before things got complicated and he found it hard to say what was on his mind.

It used to be so easy to just tell you to leave him alone, to take part in the back and forth banter that he never really realized was just foreplay. Now, things were so strained and he was the cause of it. Because he had gotten in his own way, confused you and now you were pulling back. As you should.

What was he supposed to do, though? You were with someone, seemingly happy. The way you dealt with relationships and... love, was much different from what he was used to. And he was in no place to ask you to change that for him, just as he wouldn't want you to ask him to change for you.

So then what was left? Leaving each other alone, keeping his feelings bottled up because telling you would only make matters worse. At least, that's what he had thought at first. Thought it would be easy to just pick up and move on without a word, but after that night with you, he should've known there was no turning back. Being close to you like that, of course, he'd want more.

He's barely registering Hoseok's question beside him, between the sips of liquor. “What is she then?” You were a lot of things. Except his. Never realized how devastating that would be until recently. Until you weren't a constant anymore, because he messed up.

And seeing you tonight, in that dress. Legs peaking out with each bold step of your pretty heels. He's felt those legs, wrapped firmly around his waist and beneath his hands. Soft. And warm. A lot like you. How could he not look? When you were right there being everything he wanted, how could he not look?

“She's... kinda sexy.” Eyes widening at his own words, forgetting for a moment who he was talking to. “I don't know, it was just an observation,” He rushes out, a light tint taking over his cheeks.

Hoseok laughs, tilting his head to look up at the man beside him. It's funny, despite the height difference, Hoseok still maintains his intimidating aura. Could have anyone quivering with a single glance. Well, anyone would didn't know how sweet and gentle the guy really was. Still, he's got an image to upkeep. “Did you just call my sister sexy?”

Joon is amongst the select few that know the big and scary Jung Hoseok is not as big and scary as he likes to act. So he doesn't falter, much. “She is sexy. I mean, look at her.” He's gesturing to the dance floor, where you're being spun and dipped. “When did that happen? She's never...” Speaking mainly to himself, Joon's words trail off as he watches how good you look when you dance.

“Alright. I feel like I should tell you not to check out my sister right in front of me,” He had been joking at first, but the guy was basically drooling over you. Didn't know if he should provide a handkerchief or rip him a new one.

Joon's letting out a soft laugh, lifting his glass to take a sip from it. Attention shifting back to his friend. “You're twins. It's like I'm checking you out.”

This has Hoseok bursting into laughter, a look of disbelief taking over his features. “That does not make it any better!” Despite the warning, his eyes move to find you again. Only to find you're not where he had seen you last and your boyfriend was nowhere insight as you made your way over to where he stood.

A gasp is escaping from Joon's lips before he has a chance to mask it. “Oh God, shut up. She's walking over here,” His hand reaching to hit Hoseok's chest, signaling for him to straighten up as he does the same. “Quick. Pretend I said something funny,”

He's not granted the laughter that he expects, instead, a confused expression takes over Hoseok's features as his sister approaches. “Our father would like to speak with us upstairs,” You don't even spare a glance in Joon's direction.

“What for?” You shrug. Of course, you wouldn't know something like that. You never knew the reason behind random summoning, just grew accustomed to despising them. “We can go when Ti-Lee comes out of the bathroom,” He's really doubled down on this girlfriend thing, it seemed.

With a nod, you turn to walk away. The familiar sound of Joon's voice stopping you, “You look pretty, Yn.” You hate the way your heart instantly reacts to the compliment. The three words that you've been hearing all night because of course, you'd look pretty. But for some reason, it feels different coming from him.

But, you wouldn't allow yourself to be swooned by that. He's made it clear where he stands when it comes to you. “Thanks. My date thinks so too,” It's sad how you enjoy the annoyed expression that flashes over his features, quickly being masked by surprise.

“Oh. You brought a date?” As if he didn't know. As if he hadn't spent the majority of the night watching you. So obviously, too. Did he think you wouldn't pick up on it? Though, you'll play along. “Mhm. Hyungwon. He's over there,” You point him out with an outstretched arm, leaning against the bar with the task of getting you a drink.

Most times, Namjoon was pretty good at keeping his thoughts from slipping. Screening them to make sure that he doesn't say anything compromising. Something that he finds harder to do with you involved. “Why'd you bring a date?” Why wouldn't you bring a date? Is on the tip of your tongue.

He's all but screamed that he wanted nothing deeper with you, what with his refusal to speak on things that are clearly bothering him. He was interested, but not as interested as someone would like. And too much of a coward to say so. What was he so afraid of? It's not like you were some pure inexperienced child, you've gone through one night stands before.

If that was all he wanted, he should've just said that. Instead of leaving you to come to the conclusion on your own. Putting together the pieces he so begrudgingly gave to you. Nevermind what Yoongi claims, what he's said to you in the past. That doesn't matter. What matters is how he acts on it and Namjoon hasn't acted at all.

And you certainly weren't going to be the only one out in the wind. “It's a ball? I need someone to dance with... who are you gonna dance with?” A subtle jab, as if you hadn't noticed that he showed up with nobody on his arm tonight.

“I don't really dance much,” His reply is sheepish and meek, you barely hear the words coming from his lips.

You're letting out a hummed sigh and a practiced smile, “That's too bad. Maybe, I'll let you twirl me a few times. It is a charity event after all,” With that you're walking away, promising that you'll follow your brother upstairs when he goes and not sparing another glance at Namjoon.

Hoseok manages to hold his laughter until you're out of earshot, bending forward as he clutches his side. Thick chuckles falling from his lips and filling the space. Joon stays stood beside him, a glare shadowing his features, knowing that he's laughing at him and not being able to be mad at it. The entire situation was laughable in the worst way.

“Oof,” He breaths out after calming, straightening, and letting out a deep breath. “You really pissed her off. What did you do?” He almost delves into all the issues in his head with your brother but holds back for the sake of not getting himself in trouble. Admitting that he actually slept with you to your brother... not a great idea.

Instead, he decides to go with someone he knows Hoseok already knows. “ think she's still pissed I called her superficial... and self-centered,” Not his brightest moment, he was upset, but that wasn't an excuse. It wasn't something he made up, the evidence was right there. But you weren't only that, he knew that.

And chose to ignore it.

“That'll do it.” Hoseok answers with a sure nod. “She hates when people tell her about herself. Especially if they're right,” Of course, he knew how his sister was. How you acted and treated the people around you. You were everything a superficial, self-centered person could be.

Only the people close to you, the people that you felt comfortable with knew that there was more to it. So keen on keeping everyone at an arm's length, you choose to allow the immediate assumption pass, to keep from getting too close. It was better that way. Not often did you meet someone you desired to get to know deeper, to know you.

It felt like that with Joon sometimes, a lot of the time. And you did try to get him to see that you weren't what everyone thought, but it didn't work as well as you had hoped. You were still the same to him.

He's letting out a huff, fingers pushing through his hair. Frustration creeping up the back of his neck. “I didn't think she'd take it to heart! It was just an observation, I didn't mean...” He didn't mean to hurt you, wouldn't imagine it. He wished he could just tell you everything.

How he felt about you, how badly he wanted to be with him – and wanted you to want to be with him. If only it would ruin everything. Although, everything was already ruined... right?

“Why do you feel bad about it now?” Hoseok is fully invested in this conversation now, picking up on the pieces he's missing in the story of you and Namjoon. “Is it because she looks pretty and she's with some guy?”

“No!” There was more to it than just jealousy. As much as he wanted to be in Hyungwon's place, there... was there? “I mean.. yeah?” No, there had to be more. He didn't just want you because he didn't have you. He wanted you because you were you and he didn't quite get it, but he felt it whenever he was with you. It had nothing to do with being jealous. “No! Because she's... she's, her, you know? And she's nice to me, right? So I shouldn't be mean to her?”

Much harder to put into words under your brother's expectant gaze. How was he supposed to explain his feelings when he didn't quite understand them himself. When he hasn't even told you about them properly.

Realizing, he's not going to be getting any more information out of the man, Hoseok is nodding. Eyes searching to find his girlfriend in the crowd, only now remembering that he was expected to meet with his father. “Look, if you think you should apologize, go for it. But don't fuck with her head,” A pointed finger follows his stern warning.

No room is left for Namjoon to respond, Hoseok offering a quick goodbye before he stalks off to wrap himself around the pretty redhead he first arrived with. Whispering something to her before leading her out of the hall and you're just a few steps behind them.

MAY 23RD, 2020 | 21:09

You're told to leave the moment your father's eyes set on the woman wrapped around your brother's waist. Deciding that he'd much rather discuss a different matter tonight than what he had originally planned when he called the both of you away. You protest, of course, not wanting to leave him to get in trouble. Even though, he's never done the same for you.

The threats and ultimatums that you knew were coming, he wouldn't be able to handle it. Would more than likely bend at your father's will because he knew nothing else. Ready to do whatever to keep the peace, even if it was against what he wanted.

Hoseok is the one that asks you to leave, though. Shooing you away with a reassuring smile and while hesitant, you still leave. Offering a soft smile over to Ti-lee who looks as nervous as ever.

The first person you lay eyes on when you're reentering the room is no other than Kim Namjoon. Stood in the same spot as before, now engaged in conversation with both Jungkook and Jimin. His eyes lift, just for a moment, before he's spotting you. Offering up the first smile he's shown you in the past few days.

And you hate how quickly your body reacts to the twitch of the lip. You should be focusing on moving on, forgetting everything that happened between the two of you. It was nothing. He surely thought so, no matter how many lousy smiles he flashes in your direction. It didn't change anything. He didn't want to be with you.

Ugh, but you wanted him to be.

More than ready to stamp your foot and ball your fists until you were getting what you want. Yet, you had an inkling that no matter the size of your objection – it still wouldn't change anything. Wouldn't change his mind or his heart. It was a fluke, it had to be. Why else would he have pulled back the way he had.

Which is the reason you can't fathom why he'd be making his way over to you right now. Slipping through the crowd of strangers until he's standing right in front of you, with that same smile on his face. “Can I dance with you, now?” His voice just above a whisper and you really wished he'd stop confusing you.

And you wish, you'd stop letting him. “Sure,”

He takes you and leads you into the crowd of dancing bodies, hand placed lightly on the middle of the back as the two of you move to the music. His hand is so big in your hand, the feel of it reminding you of your first night together. Your first date. Hardly two weeks ago, but it felt like much longer.

You don't speak for a while, allow yourself to imagine that it is like this. Simple. That you're with him and he wants to be with you, despite whatever's holding him back. That he talks to you, instead of leaving you in the dark. That you're happy. As pathetic as it may seem, you were always happy with him.

Never even had to do much, he just knew how to bring a smile to your face. Whether it was catching the subtle blush on his cheeks when you teased him or when he was letting himself go around you, being bold. You liked it most when he threw caution to the wind, your heart did too.

And you had thought you'd be seeing much more of that. But maybe you were wrong...

The sound of him clearing his throat, pulls you from your thoughts, training your full attention on him. He looks nervous. “Did... Did I hurt your feelings when I said... those things?” How fragile did he think you were? Expected to have you curled up crying over being told something that you've known your whole life?

Yeah, right. Your feelings weren't hurt, but that didn't mean it was something that you'd like to hear from someone you thought was starting to see you differently. Someone that you thought liked you. It was annoying.

“No. I love being insulted,” Words dry, yet dripping with sarcasm.

He sighs, “I wasn't trying to insult you,”

The humorless laugh that leaves your lips is unexpected even to you, but you do little to suppress it once it slips. “You were trying to compliment me?” Bewildered, of course. If that was his idea of a compliment... well, maybe you had him pegged wrong.

“No. I just... I noticed, so I said it,” Namjoon is quickly realizing that's not the best answer in trying to mend things. Even though you tried to act as if you didn't care, it was obvious to him that his words held some gravity to you. That it bothered you to hear that from him, he could see through your entire act.

Calling you out on it would just lead to more mess, though. “I'm not saying you're not that, we both know you are. I just shouldn't have judged you on it. You're a lot more,” He had misjudged you when you first met, assumed that there weren't that many layers to you. But he was so wrong.

You were complicated and sensitive and extremely loving. And he enjoyed discovering every new aspect of you the closer he got to you. All things that had him so taken with you. He wanted to learn more, he wanted to try and figure things out. Hated how quickly the flame went out. He wanted that back.

“Yeah?” It's hard to mask the smile that fights its way onto your lips. “What am I?” Honestly, you don't want to sound as hopeful as you feel, but you can't help it. To hear, finally, what he really thinks of you... and maybe what else has been going on in his mind. What has been blocking him from you?

But Joon is terrible on the spot and is quickly clamming up under your gaze. The list he had created mere moments ago fleeting from his memory, only one word behind. And it's not the right one. “Pretty. I mean...” Desperately trying to search for the right words, but you're already rolling your eyes.

“Well, look who's superficial now.” You scoff, but you don't sound mad. Playful even. The teasing tone that he's grown used to in these past few weeks. It has him thinking, maybe he might still have a chance. “I know I'm pretty. And I know I'm spoiled and self-centered. But, I also know I'm intelligent. Outgoing. Kindhearted.” You tick each characteristic on your fingers. “You didn't care about any of that. Didn't even care to mention it,”

“I know. I'm sorry.” The two of you needed to talk, he's only now realizing how badly. There were so many things that he needed to tell you and in turn, so many things that he wanted to hear from you. If you weren't going to be together, at least you could clear the air. At least both of you could do without the confusion weighing over your hearts.

And it had to be now, no more of this waiting around bullshit. He's already lost two weeks of potentially being with you. He was done screwing around. “Should we go somewhere to talk?”

You don't think there's been a time you were invited to 'go somewhere to talk' and actually talked about anything. It annoys you how easily the words crush your spirit, proving how little control you had over your emotions when it came to him. And to make matters worse, you wanted to go with him.

Whether you were actually talking to correct things or just fooling around as you suspected was his intention. No matter what it was, you wanted to go along with him and that was scared as fuck. Still, you were far from becoming a bobblehead yes-woman at the mere mention of being alone with him.

Keeping your composure was at the top of the list. So you play into it, fingers crawling up his shoulder, to tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck. “You want to sleep with me tonight, huh?” His eyes widen, obviously surprised that you've caught on.

Namjoon is shocked. How you'd get that from wanting to talk to you. Honestly, what went on in that head of yours, he'd love to know. But, while talking to you was at the utmost of importance... there was no way he could deny that being with you like that again would be nice. The moment held residence in his mind since that night and seeing you every day, looking the way you do did not help.

But, was this a test? Was he not supposed to want to sleep with you because your relationship... if it could even be called that, wasn't in the state to be even further complicated by doing such things. Were you testing him?

“What's the right answer to this?”

He loves the way you play with his hair, nails gently scraping against his scalp. “No right answer. It's just what you want,” You're voice is all hushed and sensual, staring up at him through the ridiculously long lashes you've glued on. Which he always finds pretty.

“Uhm. Yes?”

You don't even miss a beat. “Why?”

It had been a test. At least he thinks so, why else would you be asking him why he wanted to sleep with you. He's sure he fucked up, yet again. “No right answer?”

Shaking your head, you smile. And it's a real smile. “No right answer.” Maybe he was wrong? Maybe you just wanted to know?

Joon was hardly doing anything without thinking it through it thoroughly first. He'd overthink into oblivion if it was possible. And like he wanted to know why you liked him, a question that you had fumbled, thinking it was a joke – you wanted to know why he wanted to sleep with you. Didn't really care for the answer, it would change much.

You just wanted to know.

“I like the way you look in your dress,” He's confessing because it's the truth. “And your waist feels good in my hands... you smell so sweet, and...” And I miss you. He can't seem to get his lips to form the words, the ambiguity of our situation holding him back. He didn't want to be the only one out in the wind.

Curious, you prompt. “And?”

“And, I want you.” He figures that should suffice. Doesn't give way to anything deeper that might scare you off. You can want someone without longing for them, right? Although, he did, very much long for you.

That was a conversation to be had at another time, though, because you're grinning. Leaning up on your toes to press a soft kiss to his cheek and he swears he feels his heart leap from his chest. And as quickly as you closed in on him, you're back away, with a mischievous look in your eye.

Fingers dipping into the cleavage of your dress and he's not ashamed to admit that amount of attention he pays to them until you're presenting a key from your breast, extending it out to him.

“My rooms on the top floor. I'll meet you up there,” First, you've got to say goodnight to Hyungwon. You try not to look so excited when you walk away, even though it's buzzing from your pores. It was weird. Feeling this hopeful by having a man up to your room, it certainly wast' the first time.

But, Namjoon wasn't any ordinary man. He was different in ways you could no describe. You liked him and there was something there. You knew it, you could feel it. And no matter how cool he tried to act. You're sure he could feel it too.

MAY 23RD, 2020 | 22:11

You find Hyungwon just as he's leading a pretty girl to his car. The slight stumble in his step giving way to how many drinks he's had tonight. He grins when he sees you, leaning down to plant a kiss on your cheek that earns you a scowl from the girl beside him. Wait till she found out you were his girlfriend.

In no mood to spoil their night, you're quick with your goodbye. Letting him know that you'd be fine to find your own way home, which he quickly meets with his suspicions of you going back inside to meet Namjoon. A lady never tells, so he's whooping with excitement when you confirm it.

He's kissing you before slipping into the back seat of the car, the girl following behind him. The scowl not once leaving her features as she passes you. Lifting your hand to wave them off, because you can't help yourself. And you have every intention to go find Namjoon in your room, but you're being met with a sad looking Hoseok the moment you turn.

“I have to break up with Ti-Lee,” He's saying before you have the chance to ask him what's wrong. You're rushing to him, an arm wrapping around his shoulders. He looks so torn, on the verge of tears. You feel tears well at the brim of your eyes from the sight. “Why?” Asking, even though you already know the answer.

A frustrated sigh leaves his lips as he wiggles from your grip, the sad look on his face replaced with this hard expression that does not suit him at all. “She doesn't suit me. I should be with someone... else,” His words are so robotic, not even hiding that he's literally repeating exactly what your father has told him.

Now, if it were you, you'd laugh it off with a great big 'fuck you', but Hoseok wasn't like you. So, it wasn't going to be that easy to get him to see, that no he shouldn't. “Uhm. Do you want to be with someone else?”

He had been so excited to introduce Ti-Lee, not only to your family but to anyone who was willing to listen. Anyone with eyes could see how smitten the boy was with her and you knew your brother, it wasn't easy to grasp and keep his attention.

And he knew that too. Never has he met someone like his girlfriend. He had no idea it would end up like this when they first met, either. Had been prepared to sum it up to nothing more than a casual hook up, but then he was left wanting and wondering. Wondering what she was doing, how she was doing, if she was thinking about him, how she'd feel to know that he was thinking about her.

It was sudden, the way he fell for her. In the middle of his busy life, where he swore he didn't have time for anything else. And then she was stepping in and it was like he couldn't really enjoy anything else. “No.”

“Then what the fuck are you talking about!?”

You see the annoyance wash over his features, shifting into anger. No doubt replaying the conversation he must've just had. But just as soon as it appears, it's gone. “Dad said it would be in my best interest if-”

With a firm shake of your head, you're cutting him off. “He doesn't care about your best interest, Hoseok.” It was about time he flat out heard it. That man didn't care about anyone but himself and he had everyone, even his own son fooled. But not you. “What could be wrong with Ti-Lee?”

“She doesn't even have a real job,” He's saying, but he doesn't mean it. The words don't even sound like his, because you know for a fact your brother doesn't care about things like that. “That wasn't a problem to you before. What's wrong with Ti-Lee?”

He's offering up another recycled reason on your father's list of unsuitables. “She could be with me for my money,” You actually laugh at that one. The both of you knew how to sniff out money-hungry people trying to nuzzle into your lives. There's no way he'd let Ti-Lee get this close if he thought that was the case.

But, you point out for his sake. “She makes her own money. What's wrong with Ti-Lee?”

You're more than ready to poke holes through any of his bullshit reasons on why he shouldn't be with this girl. Reasons that you know he doesn't even believe himself. A loud groan leaves his lips, hands pushing through his hair.

“Nothing's wrong with her! She's perfect but... but, I have to break up with her, Yn. You wouldn't understand,” You're actually the only person in the entire world that would understand. And also the only person in the entire world that can honestly tell him that it wouldn't be worth it.

Back when you tried to earn your father's affection or even a few words of praise. Anything. You tried so hard, but every last one of your efforts were met with nothing. Absolutely nothing. Not even a second glance. It didn't take you long to put together that nothing really impressed your father, so might as well enjoy yourself if he was going to scowl at everything.

Hoseok has yet to realize this, but he'd never really be happy until he stopped being so compliant. “No, that's not fair. I won't let you do it.” Putting your foot down literally, which may look childish... but you mean business. “You like her! Like actually like her. You don't like anyone, Hoseok. That's not fair.”

“Come on, do you really think dad would have m do anything he didn't think was best?” Was he brainwashed? What parent would so deliberately stand in the way of their kid's happiness and claim that it's in their best interest? That wasn't parenthood. Like at all.

It was a fucking dictatorship. “Hobi,” You've gotta reach to grasp his shoulders as you speak, eyes trained on his. “Dad doesn't give a shit about you.” Speaking slowly in hopes that the words will penetrate through his rose-colored glasses.

He's knocking your hands off with a scoff and a roll of his eyes. “What? Now you're being ridiculous.” Right, how could he not give a shit about him? That was his favorite after all. Of course, all of his shits were given and served directly to him. Dumbass.

“I'm serious! He only gives a fuck because you fit into his perfect plan. Successful rapper, more than ready to take over. The second something doesn't fit, he's cutting it out. Regardless of how it makes you feel. Why weren't you able to start your clothing line?” He had spent weeks meeting up with designers and artists, creating the basis of the brand he'd name after his very first album.

And right when things were starting to take off, it was being decided that he was spending too much time on things of no value. That he should be more focused on making music rather than trying to appeal to his fans with flashy things. The fact that he was having the most fun didn't matter. Making music. Money for the company.

That. That was more important.

“Because it wasn't a good idea.” And Hoseok had himself convinced that it was his idea to quit. Didn't even fight it when things started tumbling down, just went along with it like he always did.

You had bugged him for weeks about it but gave up after you realized you weren't getting anywhere. He was fucking brainwashed. “No, because it wasn't apart of the plan. So he made sure it didn't happen. He's got you under his thumb, Hobi. Wake up!”

He's getting mad and you can see it. But he has no idea where to direct it. You make sense and he hates that you do. Yet, he can't bring himself to believe that his dad would be setting him up for anything but success. He was his prodigy. It's always been that way, so why now would it be any different?

You were wrong. “No. You don't know what you're talking about. It might be that way for you, Yn. But you're a fuck up. What do you expect? You can't clump us together.” His words cut deeper than he intends. And you find yourself stepping back from him, blinking through the heaviness behind your eyes.

“I'm not a fuck up,” You don't even sound like yourself, all weak and wounded.

His words are fast. “Yes, you are. Every chance you get, you fuck up. And just because you've been keeping your shit lately doesn't change anything. Does it?” He was mad at you and all you were trying to do was help him.

All you ever did was try and help him. Because he was too stupid to see things as they were. Convinced that everything was perfect and you both had such a great dad.. all you needed to do was clean up your act. Be better and he'll treat you as well as he treats me. When that wasn't the case at all.

It's almost laughable, how little he knew about the man he idolized. “That's funny. The only reason why I've been 'keeping my shit' is because of you! Your fucking dad threatened me with you. Told me if I were to make another mistake he'd tank your album. Oh, but he cares about you, right? Why would he leave that in the hands of a fuck up?”

The rejection is instant, dismissing your words with a shake of his head. “You're lying.” He concludes. Not seeing any other outcome to this. What you were saying couldn't be true. There's no way his own dad would gamble on his work. No way.

“I don't lie and you know that. Let's go ask him,” Voice sounding a bit too chipper for the circumstance, but this was a long time coming.

Reaching for his hand, you're tugging him back into the hall, leading him straight to the table where your father sits. Completely forgetting about Namjoon waiting for you upstairs.

— daughter of the ceo of the biggest record label, it’s obvious she’d get whatever and whoever she wants. but what happens when she’s meeting the one person that refuses to play into her spoiled brat act?

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1kook · 4 years

Text

commercial break; SEVEN

this is part of my netflix & chill series ! happens a few months before part 7

summary; And lastly, Jungkook will bring it full circle by indulging you two in some good old fashion spooky sex where he nuts inside you because the only thing scarier than a scary movie is a pregnancy scare. It’s a perfect plan. warnings; horny jk, jk wants to roleplay... everyone point n laugh, mentions of his impreg kink lol, making out, tits, honestly jk is just very horny n in love lol, jk in a vampire costume w fangs O_o rating; mature (18+) wc; 2k

notes; if u don’t know who lindsay is first of all ur sick, second of all here’s my queen’s top moments. also i just gotta say, this was originally gonna be a larger fic (a halloween special) for my ncouple, but i got a lil busy with school n ultimately didn't have time to invest in this as a whole installment so..... enjoy this commercial break instead!!

Jungkook loves Halloween.

He loves the pumpkin carving and the decorating. Loves the spooky music and the abundance of candy. He loves it, absolutely adores it, and for the second year in a row, he gets to spend it with you! Yet another person he loves very much.

He doesn’t remember ever being this excited for Halloween. Last year, you had roped him into going to some frat party with him, had egged him on, begged so cutely that it was your last year in college, baby until he caved. The two of you had spent the night drinking until you blacked out, Ubering home with your costumes half on, and then unceremoniously fucking in his living room with the blinds wide open.

(The next neighborhood meeting had been very awkward for Jungkook.)

It was his first time ever drinking with you like that, and he vaguely remembers, through his own drunken gaze, how cool you had been. Had absolutely owned a bunch of greasy football players at beer pong in your little sexy nurse costume. And when the crowd cheered your name, shrieked in awe, it had been him that you turned to for praise. “Did you see me, baby,” you had giggled, crowded him against the wall of this random house until Jungkook was sweating profusely. In lieu of a costume, he had worn a silly jogger set with a skeleton design that was supposed to glow in the dark, according to Amazon. You had told him he looked adorable, had kissed and squeezed his cheeks until Jungkook was a flustered mess.

It was still early into your relationship— if Jungkook did the math, you were only about five months in at that point —so he didn’t know how else to cope with the rapid thundering of his heart, the confession sitting on his tongue, the then scary L-word begging to be heard. So, he took you home and fucked you until your little nurse cap slid off your head and you were begging for him to let you cum, thus earning him his first ever offense for violating the neighborhood rules (i.e., traumatizing a group of middle schoolers by fucking in plain sight).

Long story short, Jungkook loves Halloween, and he loves it even more when he gets to spend it with you.

(He’ll never admit it, but he’s a hard romantic. He wants to do cheesy things with you, like cuddle you into his arms when you get scared, pat your head until you can look at whatever is happening on screen again. He wants you to feel safe in his arms, wants to be your refuge when things become too much. He likes to think he’s done a pretty good job so far.)

Jungkook’s plan goes like this:

First, welcome you with that Halloween basket you’ve been sending him tweet links about all month. The cute little Jack-O-lantern candy bucket stuffed with candy and hair ties and a soft Halloween themed blanket. It’s so cheesy, makes him blush when he catches sight of it in his closet, but Jungkook will do anything to please you.

Next, after presenting you with your Halloween gift and having you coo and tell him he’s a good boy, he’ll invite you to break your new soft blanket in. The living room will be prepared with an assortment of your favorite foods, the flat screen ready to play whatever horror movie the two of you settle on.

And lastly, Jungkook will bring it full circle by indulging you two in some good old fashion spooky sex where he nuts inside you because the only thing scarier than a scary movie is a pregnancy scare.

It’s a perfect plan.

It’s the best way to spend his favorite holiday, with his favorite girl by his side and some of his favorite horror films on the big screen. Jungkook spends all of October geeked up for it, even considers hanging up lights around the living room to really set the mood. He’s so excited, can’t wait to spend another wonderful holiday at home with you, that he doesn’t fully realize why you haven’t brought up the long awaited topic of costumes.

“You like?” you ask, standing at the door of his bathroom with a sultry look in your eye, tits practically pouring out of the tight top you’ve wiggled into, skin oiled up scandalously. He fumbles with the fake vampire fang prosthetics he’d been trying to glue in for the better half of an hour.

He had heard the door open downstairs when you got here, had called out his mandatory greeting as he heard you come up the stairs. But none of that had prepared him for the sight of you in… whatever this was.

Jungkook doesn’t really understand exactly what you’re supposed to be dressed up as until the two of you are back downstairs—blinds drawn, full moon slipping in through the cracks—with some random horror movie pulled up on the TV. “I’m Lindsey,” you whine, brand new fluffy blanket wrapped around your shoulders. It shields your boobs from view, but he’s not sure if that’s a win or a loss. “From Total Drama Island!”

He settles in beside you, doesn’t get too comfortable because it’s nearing sundown now and he knows the herds of children are bound to start flowing in. “Uh huh,” he says mindlessly. His collar feels itchy, the overly-detailed vampire costume he meticulously scoured the internet for being one size too small. You snuggle into his side anyway.

“You don’t know anything about cinematic masterpieces,” you frown, avidly tuned into The Texas Chainsaw Massacre: The Beginning, because apparently you love horror movies all of a sudden, a fact that genuinely throws Jungkook off. He’s not sure what it is about you that had deluded him into thinking you would be a scaredy cat, but he doesn’t take the new bit of information too hard.

The doorbell rings right as the first gorey scene ends and you make a big show of huffing and whining as he rushes to answer it. But it’s only the beginning of the long night that awaits, and, as Jungkook comes to find, running back and forth from the door to the couch is harder than it seems.

Anyway, Jungkook’s neighborhood is a little posh, or ‘bougie’ as you like to claim, and trick-or-treating hours end a little before eleven pm. By then he’s tired, having refused your offer to switch places in fear that your boob might fall out of that scrap of fabric you call a top and earn him his second neighborly offense.

However, that doesn’t mean he’s opposed to your boobs falling out in private.

“Stupid,” you giggle when he gets caught in his long cape, the sound slowly melting into a whimper as he slips his hands beneath your top, fighting with the ridiculous push-up bra you’ve donned tonight. Hands tangle in his hair, mess up the careful side part he’d styled up for tonight, and legs lock around his waist. “Your curtains closed?” you tease.

He huffs, catches your chatty lips with his roughly, presses and presses until your mouth must bruise. He belatedly remembers about those sharp fangs he’d glued on—hey, if he was going to dress up as some gaudy monster it might as well be realistic—and doesn’t realize until he tries to bite your neck and you let out a little yelp. Truthfully, he feels bad right away, but then you’re practically dissolving in his arms so he plays along. “Shh,” he hisses.

The roar of a chainsaw and terrified screams fill the living room, almost drowning out the soft sounds you release by his ear. “O- Or what?” you pant, flinch when he pushes your sad excuse of a skirt up over your waist. “Gonna b- bite me?”

And so Jungkook does.

You shriek. “That hurts, you idiot!” you scold with a tiny whine in your voice, but Jungkook’s cock is so hard. Your tiny, tight outfit does you no favors. Tits in his face, tiny thong against his bulge. He wants to make you sob, litter bites and marks all over your skin until his love makes you ache. You must see the crazed look in his eyes, because you drop the scowl. “Hey,” you say slowly, hand on his chest. “You look like you’re gonna eat me.”

He lets go of a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. He wonders if you can feel his thundering heart beneath your palm. “Fuck,” he sighs, leaning away to regain his senses. Was it something in the air? Was it the fatigue? The full moon? Why did he want to fold you in half and fuck his cock into you until you were a crying, shivering mess? Something about you tonight, laid out for him to take, makes him feel absolutely insane. Starved and psycho; he just wants to take and take until you don’t have anything more to give. He purses his lips, tries to ignore the hot feeling in his lower abdomen when your hardened nipples register to his eyes. “I think I’m becoming evil.”

Of all the idiotic things his brain can come up with, this one is definitely top five. His cheeks flush right after, fueled by the boisterous laughter that escapes your lips at his statement. “Oh my god,” you gasp in glee, hands falling down beside your head. “You’re becoming evil?’

Jungkook frowns, flopping down on top of you to hide the embarrassment that paints his face. “Shut up,” he mumbles against your neck, warm and safe.

A hand cards through the back of his hair, nails dig lightly into his scalp. “Aren’t you the cutest little vampire,” you coo, seemingly ignoring the rock hard cock Jungkook presses against your thigh. He’s still so horny, has this sick thought that he could just pin you down right here, tear that silly costume to shreds and swallow you up in his lust. But your voice is so sweet, has his eyes fluttering shut as you gather him in his arms. “Silly vampire,” you hum, one leg thrown around his hip, a subtle roll of you hips up into him.

Jungkook huffs, licks a flat strip along the base of your neck. It draws a shaky exhale from you, has your hands digging into his back when he begins to slowly lap against the skin, nibble and tug until your back is deliciously arching up into him. “Wanna push you down,” he confesses quietly, hands securing themselves against your hips as he leans back. You're all dazed, eyes trained on his fanged mouth when he hesitantly adds, “l- little human.”

You could laugh, tease him for his sudden weird need to role play with you, but you don’t. A look of understanding crosses your face, sly smirk slowly following. “Oh?” you grin, hand coming around to cup his cheek. “The little vampire wants to use my body?” Jungkook tightens his jaw at your jab, but nods nonetheless.

You’re a feast before his eyes. Boobs in his face, pussy begging to be filled. You’re his, just like Jungkook is yours. And when you indulge him and his stupid whims—kinks, he should say, occasional interests that sometimes make him question himself—his heart feels warm and full. Proud and unashamed, like the truest version of himself when you look at him with those eyes. And your words only confirm it.

Your hands reach down for your top, pull the flimsy material over your head in one swoop that has your bra coming off with it. It drops to the floor. If it makes a sound, Jungkook doesn’t hear it over the shrieks of terror on screen. the blood deaths, the suspenseful music. All he hears is he hammering of his heart.

It’s two of your sneaky fingers that come up to play, pinch one nipple tenderly as you meet his eyes. “It’s all yours,” you purr. “I’m all yours.”

And the thirst he feels, well. It’s a little vampiric, to say the least.

—

#bangtanhq #networkbangtan #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jjk♡#jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #jungkook x reader smut #jeon jeongguk smut #jeongguk smut #mine

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druigswhores · 3 years

Text

you’re alive in my head

summary: in which natasha no longer had to live in a world without you, there you were in her arms once again. but why can’t she remember your life before westview?

content warning: natasha romanoff x fem!reader, set after endgame, angst, mentions of death, trauma, their relationship ending on a bad note, trust issues & previous steve x nat, there is some hints to homophobia in this chapter :/ (WANDAVISION SPOILERS!)

note: sorry this chapter was late!! it’s 3.3k words and i got my friend to spell check and edit it, ty ashy ily <33

REQUESTS ARE OPEN! (lmk if you want anymore content like this!)

‘моя любовь’ = ‘my love’ in russian <3

‘принцесса’ = ‘princess’ (i used google translate so idk how accurate it is

SERIES MASTERLIST

PART THREE COMING SOON

Death.

It's a complicated thing; A theory.

Nobody knows what happens to you after you die. Nobody knows what happens to your soul after you die. We make things up to make ourselves feel better, and convince ourselves that our deceased loved ones are watching over us, all the while convincing others that our loved ones are in a better place now.

But in reality, those are just dreams dying to be true.

Natasha didn't know if you were dead or alive. She just knew your body turned into particles of dust, your soul disappeared along with the rest of you. She didn't want to believe that you were truly gone, so she spoke to you.

She spoke to you, thinking you were listening to her; believing you were listening to her and that you were still around.

It was almost as if she was speaking to your ghost, the mere presence of you that remained with her, the piece of you that was a part of her. It felt wrong being in the compound without you, she felt as though she was trapped; trapped with the many reminders of how she failed you. The walls were suffocating her. Every time she thought about what had happened it felt as though the rooms were becoming smaller. The large 'A' plastered around the compound taunting her, reminding her of what they lost. Of what she lost.

So she had to get away.

Natasha found herself taking trips to the beach, the one the two of you adored oh so much. She'd walk along the sand, the harsh wind blowing against her face. The air smelled of salt, and she'd take a deep breath in with a smile. She'd reminisce all the times the two of you managed to get away from the compound, how effortlessly gorgeous you'd look with the breeze blowing through your hair, your laughter sounding like a melody that Natasha now longed to hear once more.

If she stood really still, she could, once more, feel the warmth of your fingers dragging against her skin, gently tracing shapes onto her body. Her heart would ache whenever she'd turn to the side, finding that nobody was beside her.

She had to get used to living in a world without you.

"моя любовь..." She sighed, fumbling with a stone she'd picked up, before swinging her arm and throwing it into the rippling water. The temperature was dropping. Christmas coming closer and closer every day. Natasha wrapped her coat tighter around her body, staring at the waves in front of her, observing the way they'd hit the shore before pulling back into the ocean. In the distance, she could see boats, and although they were far away, she noticed how the water carried them; the movement of the ocean pushing the boat into the direction of the wind. "No sailors.." Natasha realized, her eyes following a lifeguard boat making its way to the empty boats, likely checking for any survivors.

Yet another reminder of how the Avengers had failed.

It's only been a couple of months since the battle yet the traces of you continued to fade away. The sweater that was once yours now clung to Natasha's body as she made her way back home.

She'd do anything to bring you back. She'd do anything to have you in her arms again, complaining about something you'd undoubtedly forget hours later. She missed the way you'd never share your snacks with anyone but her. The feeling of warmth that would blossom inside her when your eyes met in a crowded room. All the times when your knee would brush against hers during a meeting. She missed the way it felt to lay next to you. She missed forgetting the world with you.

God, she missed you so much.

But there she was. In the same room as you, years later, preparing breakfast. Her hair was coiled and pinned up, keeping it in place. Her dress fit her perfectly, the skirt swaying with her movements as she elegantly makes her way across the kitchen floor. Her every movement seemed like a performance; like she was the performer and you were the audience, watching her in awe. She was captivating in every possible way, her enchanting voice pulling you in like a siren.

"Good morning, honey! I've been up all morning making us a delightful breakfast." Natasha greeted you with a kiss on the cheek, her performance almost seeming comical. "Nat... it's just peanut butter and jelly sandwiches." You pointed out, glancing over your shared kitchen, seeing the mess that was made. Somehow milk spilled all over the counters, dripping onto the ground, you immediately recognized the smell of burnt toast that hung in the air as you continued looking around.

"Peanut butter and jelly is your favourite, remember?" Natasha reminded you. Your eyes widened at the realization, thanking her. You helped her bring the food to the table, making a note to yourself to tidy up the kitchen before the dinner at Wanda and Vision's that the two of you were invited for.

But you couldn't recall Wanda telling you about the dinner?

"Are you okay, моя любовь?" She placed her hand above yours on the counter. The two of you sat in front of each other, your half-eaten breakfast resting between the two of you. "Of course, why wouldn't I be? I'm with my best girl." You smiled softly at her, and though your words said one thing, Natasha could easily recognise the distant look on your face as you stared off into space, lost in your own thoughts. "What's going on in that pretty little head of yours принцесса?" She teased, squeezing your hand gently.

"What time are we supposed to be at Wanda's?" You asked her, snapping yourself out of the trance you were in. Natasha hesitated, eyebrows furrowed as she watched your every move. Something was bothering you. "We're going to Wanda's in the evening моя любовь, she asked us a while back if we could help out before the others arrived, remember?" Natasha stated as the two of you brought your plates to the sink, beginning to tidy up.

"I'm not sure how much help you'll be sweetheart." You teased, pointing at the mess that was created due to Natasha making breakfast. She feigned hurt in response, "Oh принцесса, you're breaking my heart!" She made her way around you, passing you the cutlery as you rinsed the plates. You chuckled softly at her playful behaviour. "I think we should stick with me making us breakfast so our kitchen doesn't end up getting flooded, wouldn't you agree?" You chuckled, as you made your way around the kitchen, the two of you tidying up the mess Natasha had created.

"If only we were a robot," Natasha sighed, wrapping her arms around you from behind. You leaned back into her, embracing the warmth which radiated from her body, "or had powers." This was a position you were so very used to. "If only," she responded playfully. You turn your head back at the grinning redhead, as she leaned in for a kiss, her eyes fluttering shut as she felt your lips meet.

"You know," Natasha started, "we do have some time to spare-" you then cut her off.

"I like the way you think, sweetheart," You smiled softly, turning in her arms before making your way to your shared bedroom. Natasha followed closely behind.

The two of you were dolled up, looking your best.

Your dress ended just below your knees, the skirt extenuating your hips; it swayed with every movement you made. The short sleeves of the dress looked as though they were about to fall off your shoulders. Natasha's dress, however, was much more slim fitting and hugged her hips perfectly before flowing down, much like a waterfall, making it harder to look at anything else but her.

"Do you think Wanda will get mad at us for arriving a bit later than expected?" You asked nervously, fumbling with your fingers as the two of you made your way down the path that led to Wanda and Vision's home. Natasha shuffled around balancing the tray of pastries you'd prepared in one hand while using her free hand to rub your back gently, comforting you, "I'm sure she won't mind, моя любовь," she reassured you. As you near the house you could hear mumbling from the inside; you heard three or more different voices.

"Is that- is Vision singing?" You asked worriedly, glancing at Natasha who was mirroring your reaction. She knocked on the door, and the singing inside had abruptly stopped. "Oh, that must be our other guests," You heard Vision exclaim, "perfect timing!" You could hear his footsteps gradually get closer. The door swung open and Vision gave a nervous smile, glancing down at the tray of food Natasha was holding before letting out a sigh of relief. He hugged the both of you before welcoming you into his home. He introduced you to Mr. Hart, Visions boss, and Mrs. Hart, his wife.

"Oh hello," Mrs. Hart greeted, "no need to be so formal tonight honey." she smiled at you, pushing away the hand you had extended for her to shake. Instead, she pulled you into a tight hug which quite honestly surprised you. You awkwardly pat the older yet noteably shorter woman on the back before pulling away to quickly greet her husband. He glanced at you and Natasha in confusion, opening his mouth to say something before getting interrupted. "Oh here, let me take that, Natasha. You stay here and I'll go get a plate to put these on." You glanced at everyone in the room, offering them a smile before making your way to the kitchen, Vision stopped you before you got to the door, extending his arm out.

"Thank you," he leaned down to whisper to you. You squeezed his arm in response. You weren't used to seeing Vision in this form. He looked human. You rushed into the kitchen, startling Wanda, "I've figured you needed help." You smiled sheepishly at her, placing the tray down onto the counter, taking in all the chaos that was going on in the kitchen. It reminded you of this morning.

"Well, this isn't the first chaotic kitchen I've walked into today," you teased, reaching out for a plate before neatly plating the pastries onto it. Wanda laughed nervously in response, as she flicked through the recipe cards, searching for the right one. You walked back into the living room, placing the plate onto the coffee table prompting Vision to jump up out of his seat and offer Mr. and Mrs. Hart an appetizer. Looking to Natasha, you gave her a wink before swiftly turning around, your dress swaying with your movements as you made your way back into the kitchen, missing the frown forming on Mr. Hart's face.

"Oh, what was I supposed to do next?" Wanda began rambling, "what was the main course again?"

Making your way to the recipe cards floating in the air you attempted to help her find the card with the right recipe, steak. You could hear Vision playing a song on the ukulele while Natasha unwillingly sang alongside him.

"That's not it" You sighed, sifting through the cards, "is this one steak?"

"Steak," Wanda started, "Diane!" she accidentally yells. Her eyes widened as she realized what she'd done. She looks to you with a frown. You just barely heard Vision respond with a, "yes dear?"

"This is going terribly," Wanda frowned, leaning her head upon your shoulder. You chuckled, rubbing her back gently before pulling her away, forcing her to look at you, "Hey, you can do this, okay? You're not alone," you reassured her, attempting to raise her spirits. She sighed in relief, repeating to herself ", "I can do this, I can do this, I can do this..."

Vision barged into the kitchen unexpectedly, his nerves radiating through room. Wanda panics, accidentally using her powers to throw the lobsters out of the window.

"How can I be of assistance." Vision asks, mirroring Wanda's expression.

"Well," Wanda started, "the chicken is no longer a chicken and the lobsters just flew the coop, so the steak is the last man standing," she explains, making her way around the kitchen. You held the recipe card in your hand, skimming the instructions, "it says here you could cut down the prep time with a meat tenderiser." You recited, looking at the couple once more. "Excellent plan! Where's the tenderiser?" Vision questions, ready to help in the kitchen.

"I'm looking at him," Wanda began, holding her hand out to pass the tenderiser to Vision. You pull her hand back before Vision reaches out for it. "No. What you need to do, Vision, is go entertain your guests. Have faith in your wife and I, okay?" You pushed him out of the kitchen, before turning around and clapping your hands.

"So, where were we?" You asked, hopefully.

After a stressful couple of minutes, a brief visit from a woman with a pineapple, and Natasha almost spilling water on her dress; dinner was served.

Well technically, breakfast was served.

The six of you sat around the dining table, nervously looking around. Mr. and Mrs. Hart looked at the food in confusion, staring at the cooked bacon and eggs paired with the red wine and chocolate covered strawberries.

"Breakfast for dinner?" Mr, Hart began, with obvious judgement written all over his face. "How very-" "European." Mrs. Hart cut him off, smiling reassuringly at the two of you.

"European?" You muttered, glancing at Wanda in confusion, who then motioned her hand in a 'I'll tell you later' sort of way. "Oh, let's have a toast!" Vision began, raising his glass up. All of you followed suite as Vision continued.

"To my lovely and talented wife," he gloated, unable to take his eyes off her.

"And to our esteemed guests," Wanda added. You didn't miss the wink she threw at you and Natasha, causing the two of you to stifle your laughs. Everyone clinked their glasses together and dug into their food. It wasn't long after when the questioning began.

"So, where did you move from?" Mrs. Hart began, "what brought you here? How long have you been married? And why don't you have children yet?" She interrogated Wanda and Vision, and you glanced over at Natasha, hesitantly, who shrugged in response before continuing to eat her food. Her eyes then met Mr. Hart's, who's eyebrows were furrowed at the interaction, waiting for his wife to finish speaking so he could say something. You didn't notice Wanda struggling to answer the questions being thrown, while Vision looked at Wanda desperately waiting for an answer. It was almost as if the two of them didn't know themselves.

You also failed to notice Wanda zoning out of the conversation, staring off into the distance as Mrs. Hart continued pestering her for answers. "And what about the two of you, huh? You two roommates?" Mr. Hart questioned, noticing how closely seated you were next to Natasha.

"Something like that," Natasha responded, biting back the smirk that was fighting it's way onto her lips.

"Two lovely women such as yourselves shouldn't struggle to find a man. Why don't the two of you have husbands yet?" Mr. Hart asked, leaning forward. You felt the hair in your arms rise as you realised where the conversation was leading. Glancing at Natasha nervously, you noticed how her fingers were clenched around her cutlery.

"We just prefer each other's company," you stated simply, shoving a forkful of eggs into your mouth to distract yourself.

"What do you mean? Are you- that's unnatural!" He ranted. You ignored him, noticing that Wanda was still trying to answer questions about her and Visions marriage.

"Yes, yes, we were married in," Wanda paused, getting lost in her thoughts. Mr. Hart continued his rant to you and Natasha as You, Vision and Natasha glanced at Wanda nervously.

"You're both women! That's wrong!" Mr Hart argues.

"Well, what's your story?" Mrs. Hart questions Wanda.

Mr. Hart began shouting, slamming his fist onto the table as Mrs. Hart continued to grill Wanda for answers. Wanda snaps back into reality due to a sudden, unexpected noise. She turned to face Mr. Hart who began to choking. You stared at Natasha, frightened and unsure as of what to do in this situation.

"Oh, Arthur, stop it!" Mrs. Hart laughed. She repeated the words 'stop it' over and over again, her tone gradually becoming more panicked as her husband continued to choke. His hand rested on his throat. Vision stared at Mr. Hart in an unsure manner, his hands resting against the table almost as if the were pinned against it. You only just noticed how Mrs. Hart turned to Wanda as she continued repeating those same words.

"Stop it," she pleaded, her voice shaking as she looked at Wanda, who was staring at Mr. Hart in shock. Mr. Hart fell off his chair and onto the ground as he continued to choke. You wanted to rush over and help him but it felt as though your hands were bound to the table and you couldn't move your legs. You were only able to watch as the man continued to choke while his wife chuckled.

"Stop it."

"Vision, help him," Wanda demanded. Vision rushed out of his seat and next to Mr. Hart, phasing his hand through his throat and removing a whole chocolate covered strawberry.

When did Mr. Hart pick up the strawberry? You thought to yourself.

"Let me help you up," Vision offers, helping Mr. Hart back to his feet. The atmosphere in the room had immediately changed, going back to exactly how it was before. It was almost as if a switch had been flipped and everyone forgot what was happening.

"Would you look at the time!" Mr. Hart exclaimed making his way to the door as his wife followed behind him.

"Well," Wanda started, "are you both alright?" she questioned nervously, as she stood up. "Yes, we better be going. We had such a lovely time!" Mrs. Hart reassured. The couple left the house very abruptly, mentioning something about a promotion before exiting the front door.

"Oh, we must be going as well!" Natasha exclaims, pushing herself up out of her seat before saying goodbye to the two. She hugged them both before making her way out of the door. You hugged Vision and thanked him for having you over before making your way to Wanda.

"Tonight was wonderful, Wanda," you reassured, pulling her into a hug. You felt her shoulders slacken in your arms, sighing softly as she returned your embrace before pulling away from you, her arms resting on your shoulders.

"Thank you, thank you for everything."

As the two of you made your way home, you couldn't help but let Mr. Hart's words play on repeat in your mind. You could tell Natasha knew what was bugging you as she squeezed your hand gently. The two of you continued to hold hands as you made your way home.

"I know we can't get married," you started, as you stood in your living room, staring at the woman who made you feel most at home. She nodded, waiting for you to continue as she rested her hand against your cheek, allowing her thumb to gently stroke your face.

"But I just want you to know that I'm here for you. For better or for worse. I never want to be apart from you," you chuckled softly, staring at her in awe, allowing your eyes to glance at her lips before you looked back into her eyes.

"I know, моя любовь. And I'd do anything for you," Natasha began.

"Even die for you."

natasha romanoff taglist: @blackxwidowsxwife @severepeanutartisanhands @madamevirgo @starsvck @umsolikeblog @baddecisions-png @yourmcu

all works: @teenwonder @amourtentiaa @husherstan @peggycarter-steverogers

323 notes · View notes

elysiadjarin · 3 years

Text

Sword and Shield 4

Tags: Bad Batch x reader (you), fem!coded, poly!relationship, multi-part series, nonhuman!reader, Echo later on

Part 3: https://elysiadjarin.tumblr.com/post/654100310923657216/sword-and-shield-3

Warnings: mentions of a rough past, otherwise none.

4: Learning Process

Closing your eyes and taking in a breath, you straightened and opened the door to the common space. You forced yourself not to freeze as you saw all four of them gathered in the room, turning to stare at you.

“Should you be up?” Tech instantly asked, eyebrows furrowing.

You shuffled into the room, then sat down on an empty chair, pulling your legs up. Looking down at your knees, you tugged at the sleeve over the arm that had been injured.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered into the tense silence.

“Why are you apologizing?” Hunter turned to you with an odd fierceness in his voice. “You kept Tech and I from getting badly injured or even killed at your own expense, but you’re apologizing? If anything, we should be apologizing to you.”

You stared up at him, eyes wide. For a moment, you tried to scoop up your scattered thoughts. “N-no,” you finally tried to stammer, trying to explain. “I- I’m- I got distracted, I- I made a mistake,” you confessed, taking in a burning breath. “Back in the vault room, I- I should have been paying attention, but I thought- I thought I’d done something wrong. I got distracted, and I should have- I should have been faster. If I’d been paying attention like I should have, we could have gotten out in time and- and-“

“What in nine Corellian hells are you talking about, Shiv?” Hunter demanded, staring at you incredulously. “What do you mean you did something wrong?”

You swallowed thickly. “You- you seemed angry, and I- I thought I’d done something wrong. I’m not- I wasn’t completely attuned to you and got distracted. I should have been quicker to find a solution, but I- I got distracted and-“ You bit your lip, frustrated at your own inability to just explain. “I could have paid attention and avoided getting anyone injured,” you whispered, looking down.

A silence fell over the room. Then Hunter let out a deep sigh. “Shiv, it’s my fault.”

Startled, you looked up at him. “Wh-“

He raised a hand, hushing you from protesting. “I was the one who distracted you. As your leader, and as... as the one who was... who was Bonded with you at the time, I shouldn’t have done something to distract or disorient you. I wasn’t mad at you, Shiv,” he said evenly, looking at you with his dark eyes. “You did everything I could have asked and more. You sacrificed your own body just to keep Tech and I from being injured. Why would I be angry with you?”

Despite yourself, tears welled in your eyes as you reached up to futilely swipe away tears. He... wasn’t angry? You knew that the 501st had been... very kind, compared to many of your previous Handlers. And you had barely realized it, but you’d automatically defaulted back to expecting the same treatment you’d always endured before the 501st had taught you differently. Yet here you were, not being punished for getting distracted.

Hunching up, you dug a palm into your eye and trembled with the effort of holding back the sobs of relief, the dull pain in your arm reminding you of your failure. “I’m sorry,” you gasped, “I- I shouldn’t be crying, I-“

You let out a gasp as you felt two giant arms wrap around you, pulling your into a surprisingly gentle hug. Looking up, you saw Wrecker’s face looking down at you.

“Hey, I thought you looked really cool out there, Shiv,” he said, voice more subdued than usual, though still pretty loud. But you appreciated the effort he seemed to be making to keep you calm. “I mean, there was that huge blast and it was super cool, and you saved the Sarge and Tech.” He grinned down at you, weathered face lighting up.

Despite yourself, you let out a little giggle at the goofy grin on his face as he recalled the blast. Sniffling, you tried to wipe away tears and focus. “Th-thank you, Wrecker,” you whispered with an exhausted smile.

He carefully set you down, and Hunter gave him a nod. “I was going to thank you for keeping us safe out there, Shiv. I understand if this incident makes you want to leave the team, but-“

“No!” You bit your lip, but shook your head adamantly. “Please, I-“ You looked down at your feet. “I’d like to stay, if you’ll... if you’ll give me another chance.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Shiv,” Hunter reiterated fiercely. “I don’t know what made you think that you did anything wrong, but I’m not angry with you.” He took in a deep breath. “Do you need any medical attention to your arm? We don’t really know... enough about you.”

You shook your head. “No, I-“ You rubbed your arm absently, still coated in the metal. “It will heal,” you said uncertainly, glancing over to the side uncomfortably. Normally people didn’t.... care if you got hurt. “Please, I can still... I can still function just fine.”

“Why do you talk like you’re some kind of slave?” Crosshair stared at you, eyes piercing.

You flinched. “I used to be,” you replied thinly, hanging your head. “Before... before the 501st took me in.”

A dead silence fell, and you could almost feel the anger palpably fill the air.

“So that’s why you-“ Hunter seemed to stop himself, breaking off. A snarl crossed his lips, then just as quickly disappeared. He let out a heavy sigh. “Shiv, you’re not a slave here, with us. You’re not just a weapon. You’re our teammate, one of us, and you’re a valuable member. You don’t have to sacrifice your own health or safety just because you feel some stupid need to or because you’re any less valuable than us.”

You listened, still fixated on the floor. You remembered the first time that Rex had given you this talk as well. Now things began to make more sense. Why Hunter had seemed angry, back in the bunker. Because he’d been like Rex, you now understood. He’d been upset that you’d called yourself a tool. He was upset about how you’d been treated.

It still felt odd to you, to realize that there were people out in the world that would see you as more than just a weapon. It was still hard to accept. Hard to grasp.

“Thank you,” you said at last, looking up at him. “I... Commander Rex and the 501st... were very kind to me and I-“ you winced. “Once I left, I... I went back to my old ways. I’m... I’m used to being nothing more than a tool. I was born a weapon. I... I’m used to being expendable.”

“You’re not expendable here. You’re not just a weapon here.” Hunter’s eyes bored into you, staring you down. “Don’t expect us to treat you as anything less than a person.”

You looked up, then, and gave him a genuine if tired smile. “Thank you, sir. I’m glad you and Tech are safe. I’ll do my best in the future to continue being a good teammate.”

He nodded curtly. “We’re going to drop off the intel we got at the next stop and let you get a bit of rest. We haven’t been assigned to anything yet.”

You looked around at everyone. “Um- should I start to... I mean, should I be prepared to start working with everyone? It might be best before the next mission to at least have Transference with everyone, so that I can easily be passed between everyone even in the middle of battle.”

“Do you have any sort of compiled profile about yourself?” Tech asked curiously.

You grimaced. “I tried that before, but everyone who’s tried to understand by reading has said that it’s not... enough. I can give it to you if you want, I should have it, but I’ve been told that while it’s informative, it’s not very useful until it’s been experienced.”

Tech nodded. “I’d still like to have a copy, if you don’t mind.”

You nodded. “Of course.” Fumbling with one hand, you tried to grab your datapad from it’s charging port. After a moment, you managed to grab it and pull up the correct page, handing it to Tech.

“Sorry, I- I won’t have full use of my other hand for another couple of chrons at the least,” you explained, pushing hair away from your eyes.

“Just take care of it until you’re not hurting yourself,” Hunter ordered, eyeing your arm sharply. “Are you sure you don’t need at lest a bacta patch?”

You smiled weakly, shaking your head. “It will heal more quickly without it, in this case. Bacta seems to leave scars on me more than letting it heal naturally. Although in an emergency I’ll use it.”

He just nodded. “We’ll be landing at the next designated spot in seven chrons.” Without another word, he ducked out the door and left, presumably to the cockpit to pilot.

“Hey Shiv, you wanna sit here?” Wrecker patted the empty spot next to him invitingly.

You hesitated, then decided to accept. After all, you’d have to get to know all of them pretty well, right? Might as well start now. Gingerly, you sat next to him, favoring your arm a little. The more you let it be, the quicker it would heal, you knew. Pulling your legs up, you leaned back in the seat, almost touching Wrecker’s side.

He casually draped his arm around the back of the chair, behind your shoulders, though not touching you. “Is this okay, Shiv?”

Startled, you blinked but nodded. “Oh- of course.”

He grinned. “Good. Wouldn’t want to make ya uncomfortable, ya know?”

“Thank you,” you whispered shyly, head ducking.

A little kernel of hope bloomed in your chest. Maybe... maybe this would be a place where you could belong.

Tech examined your arm closely, peering at it through your goggles. “Whoa. It’s almost completely healed,” he said wonderingly. There was some scar tissue still on your arm, but it was a far cry from the mangled mess it had been when you’d first gotten the wound.

“Is it because of the metal?” Hunter asked, glancing at your arm.

You shook your head as Tech let go of your arm. “Um, no, the metal is there mainly for protection and sterilization. My biology is not... entirely organic, so it fixes itself differently,” you offered awkwardly. “I don’t completely understand it either, as my kind is... extremely rare. I’ve only met one other of my kind.”

“So there are others.” Tech glanced up at you from his datapad. He’d apparently read the profile you’d compiled and had peppered you with questions once you’d woken up.

“I don’t know how many.” You shrugged. “Probably not very many though. We’ve been... pretty heavily enslaved or used. Worked to death, essentially.”

Hunter just grunted. Crosshair let out a quiet huff from his corner where he was polishing his rifle. Wrecker was off in the galley, getting a snack apparently.

You’d apparently slept through the drop off, and when you’d woken up you’d been informed that you had a couple of chrons left before you reached the place Hunter had decided you would train with the rest of the team. He’d made some notes to Tech about the Bonding Process from his experience, which Tech had added and already distributed to the other team members.

When you finally arrived at your destination, you felt rested and mentally and physically ready. Your arm was almost healed and no longer hurt, and you knew that it would heal fully in time for the next mission, so you wouldn’t have to worry about it being reopened somehow or interfering. A damaged weapon wouldn’t be of much help in any situation.

Following the others down the ramp, you looked around interestedly at the wide, open plains littered with some rock formations. In the distance shimmered the water of a lake, and hardy grasses waved in the slight breeze. It was a good place to train, with no one in sight and a wide line of sight. You turned your attention back to Hunter, who led the way away from the ship a safe distance before turning.

“Alright.” He nodded to you. “Is there a specific order that we should do this in?”

You shook your head. “Anything works.”

“I can go first,” Wrecker offered, stepping forward. He grinned at you excitedly, and you instinctively smiled back. You appreciated the way Wrecker had treated you so far, the way he was cheerful and smiling but also thoughtful in the way he approached you.

“That alright, Shiv?” Hunter addressed you.

You nodded, stepping forward to meet Wrecker. “Sure.”

“Alright Wrecker, do you remember the process?” Hunter asked.

Wrecker’s smile dropped, eyebrows furrowing and mouth opening a little in clear thought.

You stifled a smile. “Keep your mind open towards whatever you feel. You have to start the process by offering me your hand and saying ‘Permission to Transfer,’” you reminded.

“Oh, right!” He laughed, then stuck out his hand. “Permission to Transfer,” he bellowed.

You took his hand, closing your eyes. “Transfer Granted.”

Wrecker was the easiest Transfer you could remember in a long time. He was so unguarded mentally towards you, his thoughts blasting. They were coherent and clearly linked, just... loud, and fast. You found yourself taking a bit longer to settle into the Bond, stabilizing the flow of information and ‘tuning in’ to his mental frequency.

By the time you could focus outward, you realized with a bit of surprise that you’d actually automatically become an IWS in instant response to Wrecker’s preferences. Wrecker let out a pure, joyful laugh, then aimed at a nearby rock formation and sent a rocket hurtling towards it. He whooped in the aftermath of the explosion, effortlessly tossing you in the air and catching you as though you barely weighed anything.

You had to smile a little, materializing over his shoulder. You leaned your chin against his shoulder, quickly getting comfortable with the steady stream of information he kept feeding over the Bond as naturally as though he had been doing it for years. Weapons seemed to be something that came to Wrecker naturally, as well as using them. You found yourself fading away and falling into a comfortable, natural rhythm as he did a little target practice. His weapons of choice were pretty standard, and you even got to Shift into some lesser used heavy weaponry.

It was comfortable, to just lean back and be fed information in a steady, constant stream. Wrecker’s weapon handling was expert, though to others it might seem that he just randomly moved and fired. But you could see the natural nuances that he used to sight, aim, lift, and fire.

Wrecker stopped after a couple of weapons. “This is really easy, Shiv!” He laughed. “You doing ok? I can kinda feel ya there.”

You let yourself shimmer into view again, comfortably rested against his shoulder. Your voice came out wispy and almost dreamy, a reflection of your mental state.

“You’re very natural with being a Handler,” you murmured, hands sliding over his shoulder. Shadowy fingers trailed down his arm, brushing against his armor. “It’s very comfortable and... relaxed.” You giggled, feeling a little loopy from the giddiness that he kept pouring over the Bond. “Your thoughts are... constant, fast.”

“Oh, uh... I guess that’s a good thing?” Wrecker scratched the back of his head.

You Dissolved the Transference, landing next to Wrecker. Reaching up, you rubbed your eyes and blinked a little sleepily, letting out a wide yawn.

“Yea,” you slurred, shaking your head. “Sorry, it’s...” You gave him a lopsided smile. “You’re a very natural Handler. I’m feeling a bit high,” you giggled. “I’m very.... I tend to be influenced quite a bit by my Handlers’ emotions.”

Wrecker steadied you. “Glad to hear it! It felt really comfortable.” He shrugged. “It felt different from what you said, Sarge,” he remarked thoughtfully.

“It’s a bit different for everyone,” you said, starting to recover your senses. Shaking your head, you took in a bracing breath and looked up. “I’m ready.”

Tech hesitantly stepped forward. “I can go-?”

You nodded, stepping toward him.

He took in a deep breath. “Permission to Transfer.” He held out his hand, a determined look on his face.

You took his hand. “Transfer Granted.”

The moment you felt the Bond click into place, you mentally reeled. It was a barrage of... everything. Tech’s mind was constantly whirling, moving through thoughts, processing things, almost a nervous babble of information. You tried to process, to find a way to join the stream that rushed on and on, thoughts disappearing as quickly as they came.

Calm down, Tech, you whispered, trying to infuse a sense of relaxation into the words. There’s no need to be nervous. There’s no perfect way of Transference. It’s up to me to assimilate to you, to learn about you. Just be yourself. It’s just me... just Shiv.

You could feel Tech let out a breath, and the stream seemed to slacken a little. Just enough for you to ease yourself in, to begin to process and adjust to the new stream-of-consciousness. Tech’s thoughts ran into each other seamlessly, one thought clearly linked to the next. He had both visualization as well as full words and sentences, something you recognized as being a sign of Tech’s proficiency in using both sides of the brain equally.

You prefer double blasters, right? You recalled.

A tentative thought slithered its way through the stream as you picked it out. Yes... is that... possible?

You smiled. You are my Handler, now. Slowly, you let yourself shimmer into view. Sliding your hands down both his arms, you turned to whisper into his ear. What do you need me to be?

Tech stared down at both his hands, and between one blink and the next, he was grasping another blaster in his left hand. He offered a few schematics and modifications, letting you quickly adjust. Then turning, he focused on some rubble that Wrecker had created and began to pick them off, one by one. A few of the initial shots missed, but as you began to find his rhythm, he began to easily hit every single target he shot at.

By the time he lowered the blasters, you’d begun to understand his process. Tech was a true analyst, his movements clearly thought-out and calculated, the opposite of Wrecker. Wrecker’s movements came naturally, hardly without thought. Tech’s mind, however, made razor-sharp recognitions and calculations, thinking a step ahead as much as possible. It was simply a matter of learning to find his pattern and learn to predict it and run with it.

In the back of your own mind, you began to realize the work cut out for you. If you happened to be tossed from Wrecker to Tech in the middle of the battle, it would be like making a 180 degree shift within the space of a breath. It wasn’t impossible, but you knew it would take a close understanding of each of them, their thought processes, their preferences, and their individual personalities to truly perfect yourself as their personal weapons.

You Dissolved, the two blasters once more converging into one as you reappeared physically. For a moment you simply froze, staring blankly ahead as you regained yourself. Shaking your head, you blinked and refocused, looking back up.

“Ambidextrous,” you said almost without thinking. “Physically and mentally.” You shook yourself off. “Sorry, it’s... it’s a bit challenging to keep up.” You smiled at Tech. “Your mind is... so fast. There’s so much. It’s very impressive.”

He blinked, and you wondered if that was some color staining the tips of his ears. “Thank you,” he said.

“Guess it’s my turn.” Crosshair grunted, stepping towards you. He eyed you warily, eyes flint.

You turned to him. “I’ll do my best.”

He held out his hand. “Permission to Transfer.”

You grasped his hand, feeling the calloused palm under your own skin. “Permission Granted.”

Silence. Compared to the others, Crosshair was just... utter silence. The Bond was there, you could feel it, but there was just... darkness and silence. But it didn’t surprise you, after you took a moment to think about it. You’d worked with a sniper once before. They distanced themselves, so far.

So you didn’t say anything, simply waited.

After a moment, a single visual came across. A detailed schematic for the rifle, including the mods.

It only took you half a second to instantly respond, the rifle seeming to just appear in his hands. He carefully studied the rifle, lifting it to stare through the scope and aiming in a few directions. You stayed quiet, ready to instantly respond to anything, trying to remember everything in Crosshair’s profile and the previous sniper you’d worked with.

Crosshair abruptly turned and fired several shots, peering down the scope. A few other modifications appeared across the bond, and you Shifted seamlessly between his steady shots. He hit every single target, every single time. No emotion came across the Bond, only a split-second visual of the intended target and any adjustments.

He lowered the rifle after a few more shots. “Your response time is satisfactory,” he said aloud, turning the rifle over in his hands. “I’ll have to get used to your presence. I keep feeling like there’s someone behind me.”

You hesitated a moment before speaking. “Would it be better if I kept a shadow beside you, or just stayed invisible?”

“Try the shadow,�� he said, lifting the rifle again.

You projected astrally, hovering just beside his shoulder.

He paused. “A little forward.”

You adjusted, realizing that you might have been in his blind spot.

“Other shoulder.” After another moment and a few shots, he nodded. “Better. Once I get used to your fixed location, it shouldn’t be a problem.”

You nodded, Dissolving the bond. With a wince, you clapped your hands over your ears and squeezed your eyes shut with a tiny whimper. Everything kept bursting in your senses, a sharp contrast compared to the utter silence and deprivation of Crosshair’s mind. Letting out a gasp, you dropped down and hunched close to the ground, scraping yourself together.

“Shiv!”

You shook your head. “I’m fine-“ you blurted shakily. “I’m fine- I just- it’s been so long since I’ve worked with a sniper, I-“ Sucking in a breath, you started to come back to, getting used to the normalcy again. Slowly standing, you leaned gratefully against Wrecker’s arm.

“You’ve worked with a sniper before?” Crosshair asked, eyebrows furrowing.

You nodded, peeling your eyes open. “Y-yes. But it’s been many years, since I was a child. Both of you have... your minds are like... like sensory deprivation tanks. It’s- I have to- to get used to it. I think like- like Sergeant Hunter experiences.” You shook your head, taking deep breaths.

“You alright?” Hunter asked, observing you carefully.

You straightened, nodding. “Yes. Could we try passing?”

He nodded. “Who do you want to start with?”

“You, please,” you requested, sending Wrecker a grateful smile. He grinned back and nodded, patting your arm.

“Permission to Transfer.”

You took Hunter’s hand. “Transfer Granted.”

“So, how do we pass?” Hunter asked as soon as he was holding the modified blaster in his hand.

“Just warn me who you’re passing to at least mentally,” you directed, materializing over his shoulder. “That way, even if you throw, I can direct myself to the person you’re intending to pass me to. It also helps me prepare myself to acclimate to the next person and try to predict what weapon and modifications they will want from me so they don’t have to waste time waiting for me to finish Shifting. I can Shift mid-throw. Or you could hand me over.”

Hunter nodded. Without warning, he sent you a name and whipped his arm back. “Cross!” he shouted.

You Shifted mid-throw, allowing your astral form to dart across the space and directing the rifle to Crosshair’s hand. He caught it, instantly lifting it to his shoulder. Taking a quick shot at a rock formation and hitting the target, he sent a single name across again.

“Tech,” he warned, sending you into a tail-spin.

You darted over to Tech, splitting mid-air to guide yourself into both his hands seamlessly. Tech spun, shooting quickly at two pebbles on a rock formation and knocking them off. He didn’t even turn around before slamming the two pieces together and tossing them over his head.

“Wrecker,” he shouted, though you’d already started Shifting.

Wrecker caught the IWS, hefting it effortlessly above his head. “That was pretty quick,” he said, firing a random shot into the distance. “You good, Shiv?”

You Dissolved, pressing fingers to your temple. “Yeah, I’m... I’m trying to get the hang of it. It might take me a couple of tries to be able to get better. It’s... it’s difficult to keep track.” A migraine started to build in the back of your brain, making you hide a wince.

“Well we’ve already at least formed a good foundation, so let’s give Shiv a break for now and head back to the ship,” Hunter decided, turning on his heel and heading back for the ship.

You took a step forwards and lost footing, pitching forward. Wrecker caught you before you hit the ground, making you gasp. He lifted you up.

“Whoa there, Shiv. You good?” he asked, holding you easily as you grabbed his shoulders for balance.

“A little- I- disoriented,” you managed, still reeling and dizzy. “I-I’m a bit- dizzy from-“ You winced, closing your eyes and burying your face into his shoulder. “Sorry- everything is- I’m going into sensory overload,” you stammered, feeling jittery.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll take you back to your bunk,” he said cheerfully, his steps long and steady as he walked back to the ship.

Your breath started to stutter as you felt sleep quickly creeping up on you. “Thank you, Wrecker,” you managed to whisper thickly, before the darkness descended irresistibly.

146 notes · View notes

rainydaydream-gal18 · 3 years

Text

Cal Kestis x Reader (Continued 4) The Proposal

OG Request: can i request that you write some cal kestis since you haven't written him in so long? how about one where the whole mantis crew helps him propose to the reader? it can even be like a part 4 to the "training" series lol

Author’s Note: I am SO sorry at how long this took me to post. I got hit with writer’s block so bad, and this week, I ended up getting sick. It’s been tough to find time and energy to write, but again, I am sorry at how long it was. I do hope you enjoy it!!!

"I've never seen you like this," Greez commented, lifting a brow skeptically. He planted his hands on his hips as he watched Cal make a cup of caf. It was a task the young jedi had done many times without fail since he was the definition of balance, but somehow, he had managed to spill his cup on the counter.

Cal lifted his brows only slightly as he tried to act casual. “What do you mean?”

“What’s got you so worked up?” Greez asked. “You seem off...Not quite sure what it is…”

Years of training had given Cal Kestis the ability to hide. He’d hidden from the Empire for so long on Bracca. He had concealed his identity without issue until that fateful day when he rescued his coworker and friend- an event that began quite the adventure. Still, even so, he hadn’t been able to conceal his nervousness from the Mantis pilot. His gaze flickered to Cere, who was quietly sipping her own cup of caf from the dining booth.

Her amusement at the interaction was palpable. Cal could see the slightest smile on her lips which she hid behind her mug as she took another sip, eyes trained to the table in front of her.

What would she say if she knew the truth? Would she be so amused? As worried as Cal was that his mentor would disapprove of his choice, he was running out of time. This wasn’t something he could conceal.

“The truth is…” he paused, running a hand through his orange hair.

“What?” Greez prompted. “What is it?”

“I’m…”

Cere lowered her cup, the soft clink of the material against the table catching Cal’s attention. “You’re going to propose to _________.”

Cal gazed at her, lips parting in surprise.

“Very perceptive of you, Greez,” she continued, eyes flicking to the pilot. “To have caught that something was going on with our Cal. However-” she met Cal’s gaze coolly “-the nervous excitement was coming off him in waves.”

Cal exhaled, shoulders lowering as he braced himself for some sort of sagely warning about the path he was choosing, but Cere merely smiled.

Greez's jaw dropped straight to the floor. "You...you what?" He chuckled quietly at first before bursting into joyful laughter as he approached Cal. “Congratulations, kid!”

He smiled appreciatively at the support, but shook his head. “She hasn’t said ‘yes’ yet.”

Greez shifted his stance, resting a hand on his hip. "What, you think she'll say 'no'?"

“Yes, I mean...no...We’ve talked about it, but I just don't know how to do it.”

Cere surprised him further by rising from the booth. “Need some help?”

He tilted his head. “You’d do that? But I thought…”

“The order is gone, Cal,” she replied. “As members of this crew, we’ve already done some things the Council would have disapproved of. I think after all these years of sorrow, a little joy is something we need.”

Cal nodded. “Thank you.”

“So wait,” Greez shook his head. “You want our advice? On how to propose? A former monk and a lonely pilot...what could go wrong?”

- - - -

“Hey there, uh, kid.”

You smiled, dabbing at a few beads of sweat that glistened on your forehead. “Hey, Greez. How’s it going?” You gave your arms a little stretch, holding back the groan that threatened to spill from your lips at the dull ache. Cal had assigned you to an arduous training session all afternoon. It was unexpected, but you were up to the challenge. Upon returning to the Mantis, you found no sign of your boyfriend, or Cere for that matter.

There was only Greez, who averted his gaze nervously. You got the distinct feeling that he was hiding something. Something big.

“Everything alright?” you asked, testing the waters.

“Alright? Uh, yeah. Yeah. Everything’s alright. Why wouldn’t it be? Is everything alright with you?”

You fought a smile as he fumbled his way through the somewhat defensive response. “Yeah, I’m done with training for the day. I’m just looking for Cal, actually. Have you seen him?”

“Yes, I mean, no...I may have seen him… He went somewhere.”

“He did? Did he say where?”

Greez fell silent then, and you raised your brows incredulously at him. The stubborn pilot wasn’t going to talk. Your suspicion grew, especially when his nerves seemed to spike even more. With a shrug, you headed back toward your bunk. Cere wasn’t anywhere to be found either.

What if there was a new development with the jedi order? Even though the holocron containing the location of force-sensitives across the galaxy had been taken care of, the Mantis crew had not lost hope that someday the jedi would return. Perhaps something had come up. Still, you weren’t sure why that would mean that both he and Cere would need to discuss it elsewhere. It wasn’t like Greez couldn’t be trusted. Or you.

As you changed out of your training clothes, your hand brushed over the hilt of your lightsaber. You gripped the handle and removed it from your belt before doing so with the second saber you had constructed some time ago. The weight in your hands no longer felt foreign and unsettling. The sabers had become part of you. They were not just weapons; they were tools. They were tools to defend those you loved and to usher in peace when the time was right.

You set them down and continued changing into your gear.

For years, you’d heard stories of the jedi old. You’d never imagined becoming one. You’d never imagined to have a mentor as young and handsome as Cal. And you certainly never imagined falling in love the way you did.

The thought was bittersweet. You mourned for Cal and all that he had lost, but you were so glad to have found him. He was glad to have found you too. You could feel it every single day.

A knock on the door to your quarters pulled you from thought. “Yes?”

“Hey,” Greez said, poking his head in. “He’s waiting for you.”

“He’s...waiting for me?” You watched as he disappeared from the doorway before shaking your head. “This day just gets weirder.”

- - - -

Greez had followed you off the ship and stayed close behind as you picked up on Cal’s trail. He insisted that he was not supposed to give you any hints- only that you were supposed to reach out with your feelings and find Cal on your own.

“Is this some sort of training exercise?” you wondered aloud. “Because I already finished training for the day.”

“Sorry, kid,” Greez shrugged. “It’s not for me to say.”

“But of course.” You smirked. “It’s never that simple.” You let your eyes slide shut as you reached out with your other senses. You took a deep breath, inhaling the lovely scents of the forest- leafy greens and even something sweet, like blossoms. There was a damp feel to the soil beneath your shoes. More clearly than the other things you felt, you sensed the familiar presence of Cal. He was nearby.

As soon as you began walking in that direction, Greez uttered a “woah.”

You paused, glancing at him over your shoulder. “What?”

“You jedi never cease to fascinate me,” he said. “You know where he is without even a hint.”

“It’s automatic at this point.”

“So, you...you two really love each other, huh?” he ventured.

You smiled and uttered a quiet, “yeah.”

The two of you walked through the forest. A familiar tingle in your feelings let you know that someone was just ahead. It was Cere. You’d recognize that presence anywhere after traveling with her for so long. She sat in the center of a small clearing, legs crossed and eyes shut.

“This is a training exercise, isn’t it?” you whispered under your breath at the sight.

Cere’s eyes opened, and her lips turned up in a smirk. “Cal’s waiting for you.”

“So I hear.” You wanted to shake your head in amusement, but if it was indeed a surprise training session, Cere was acting as a mentor, so you instead gave her a nod of respect. “Is there anything...Is there...What is my task?”

“That is something you will have to find out yourself. I wish you luck.” And with that, Cere rose from her seated position and gave you a nod before stepping aside. Greez stole a look and shrugged, immediately going to join her.

All the while a strange anticipation was growing in you. Part of it was curiosity on you part for this next step in your training, and part of it you chalked up to be Cal’s emotions mingling with yours. Even though you had no idea what was going on and why, something about the situation made you feel exhilarated. Like something amazing was about to happen.

You continued on your way, shooting your teammates one last curious look before vanishing farther into the forest. The tingling feeling changed. It was soon the distinct feeling that you got whenever Cal was nearby. You knew it before you saw him that he sensed your approach, but when you finally stepped into the clearing where he was waiting, you weren’t expecting the sudden drop of his heart. It was so sudden that you halted for a moment, thrown off by the swift shift in emotion. Nervousness. What did he have to be nervous about? You were the one being tested!

“Cal?” you ventured.

“___________,” he breathed out. It was like he struggled to breathe for a moment. You’d never seen him this way before.

“Is everything alright?” you asked, voice ticked up with concern.

“Ah, yeah,” He nodded, glancing down for a moment. “____________, I need to ask you something.”

As soon as he said that, your own heart dropped. It was nervousness at what you suspected was coming next, but it was a good nervousness. You immediately shifted, hands going over your heart as Cal walked over to you. There was a small part of you screaming to not give into the hope, just in case it wasn’t what you thought. Before the seeds of doubt could take root, Cal got down on one knee in front of you.

Bright afternoon sunlight poured in through the treetops, dancing along his skin with each gust of wind that shook the branches above. His eyes were fixed on you, glinting with a light you’d seen in him many times when he looked at you. It was love. Adoration.

“_____________,” he said, gently twining his fingers with those of your left hand. “I love you. As a jedi, I never thought I’d be able to go down this path….but here I am, and I’m so glad that I can. You’re the only one I’d want to go with.”

“Cal….” you murmured.

“Will you marry me?”

Even though you’d realized the words were coming, they still hit hard. Your vision blurred with tears as the emotions welled up within you. “Yes, I will. I love you, Cal.” And you pulled your hand from his only to wrap both your arms around his neck and plant a loving kiss to his lips.

Cal kissed you back passionately, leaving you with one last peck before he pulled away to take your hand again. His eyes darted up to meet yours before they focused on your finger as he slipped a ring on. Your tears hadn’t stopped.

“Cal, I’m so happy.” Then, a chuckle escaped your lips as you wiped your eyes. “I was wondering what all this was about. I thought it was a training exercise.”

“That was the idea,” he said with the shake of his head. “We thought it’d be more of a surprise that way.”

“‘We’?”

“Cere and Greez helped me out. I knew I wanted to put this ring on your finger, but I wasn’t quite sure how.”

“Thank you,” you called over your shoulder, and you were amused when Cere and Greez emerged from the brush. “Really, this was a lovely surprise.”

“I’m glad you thought so,” Greez said, clasping his hands together. He glanced between the two of you curiously. “So, when’s the wedding?”

#cal kestis x reader #cal kestis reader insert #cal kestis fanfiction #cal kestis x you #cal kestis imagine #cal kestis x y/n #greez #cere

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scuttling · 3 years

Text

Patient

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairing: Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid/Latina OFC Sophie Cortes Word Count: 8,691 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Daddy Kink, Daddy Training, Dom/sub, Oral Sex, Spanking, Oral Fixation, Office Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Unprotected Sex, Protected Sex, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Rimming, Double Penetration, Subspace, Aftercare Summary: One month after the events of ‘Perfect’, Aaron has some very big plans for Spencer and Sophie—and a few things don’t go according to plan. Collection: Part 3 of 5 of Present, Perfect, Patient, Promise, Pretend series Note: This is a previously published work from A03, just moving it over to tumblr. Link to A03 or read below! Spencer and Sophie are about to head to the break room together for tea when her desk phone rings. He reaches his hand out for her cup, earns a mouthed thank you and a smile, and she answers as he walks away.

When he walks back with their tea, she has a look on her face. It’s one he recognizes easily, after a month of being her daddy, a look that tells him it was Aaron on the phone. He smiles softly, sets her mug down on the desk. “You okay?” She nods slowly.

“Hotch wants us in his office.”

“Ooh, sounds like it’s time for a spankin’, girl,” Morgan teases, and Sophie rolls her eyes lightly.

“Reid’s coming too. You think he’d spank me in front of him?”

It’s kind of a funny question, because he has, on more than one occasion. Spencer has spanked her, too. It makes her flushed, whiny, needy, gorgeous—just thinking about it makes him hot under the collar.

“Come on, we better go up,” he says, guiding her to the stairs. If anyone has noticed him being a little more assertive with her lately, they haven’t mentioned it, and that kind of surprises him.

Adding him to their relationship hasn’t exactly been kept secret—they don’t make an effort to hide the fact that they all leave together sometimes, or arrive together, go to lunch together—but nothing has been explicitly confirmed with the team. Still, he kind of expected them to notice the change in him. He feels changed, a little more confident, a little less awkward in his own skin, but so far, nothing. He’s still just the same old Reid when they’re here.

When they’re not here, though…

They enter the office, and Spencer closes the door behind him. Aaron gets out of his chair, walks over to them, plants a warm, firm kiss on his lips, then Sophie’s.

“Mmm. Are we being rewarded?” Sophie asks, eyelids heavy. He wonders what Aaron said to her on the phone to get her so softened up already. “If so, I don’t know what I did.” Aaron chuckles.

“You can think of it as a pre-reward, because I’m going to tell you to do something, and I know you’re going to do it. Do you know how I know?”

“How, daddy?”

“Because you’re our good girl, and you’ll do anything you’re told, and because you're our horny girl, and I’m going to let you come after.” Spencer looks over at him, must look as turned on as he feels, because Aaron smirks a little. “I’m going to let you come, too. You’re going to do what I tell you, aren’t you, Spencer? You like that.”

Ever since the weekend he trained Spencer to be Sophie’s daddy, Aaron has been slipping in some subtle commands for Spencer as well, and he can’t deny the way his body reacts to the sound of his voice, the stern set of his eyes. He likes it both ways, likes feeling submissive and making Sophie feel submissive. He even looked it up on the internet, and he’s definitely not alone.

“Yes,” he replies, and he feels his voice is a little weak. Sophie takes his hand; Aaron crosses his arms.

“Try again. Yes, what?” Sophie looks up at him, chews her lip, and he takes a shaky breath. This part is new.

“Yes, daddy.”

It’s a good thing the blinds are closed, because Sophie kind of loses it, pulls the both of them toward her and kisses Spencer and then Aaron and paws eagerly at his clothes.

“This is so hot, can I suck you off? Please, daddy, I’ll be quick.” Her eyes are big when she looks up at him, and he sighs, like giving her what she wants is a hassle. Spencer hasn’t quite mastered the art of not eagerly letting her do whatever she asks, but he’s working on it.

“Okay, but you have to be quiet. I know you’re a loud, needy slut when you’re on your knees for daddy.” She nods quickly, and Spencer comes up behind her, covers her hands where they fumble with Aaron’s belt.

“Easy, baby. Let me help you.” He unclasps Aaron’s belt, looking up at him with undoubtedly hooded eyes, then unzips his pants, pushes them down a little. Aaron presses his lips together like he’s trying not to moan; it makes him feel like he’s being good and bad, and it’s a feeling he likes. “Can I suck, too, daddy?”

Aaron does moan at that. Spencer considers that a win.

“Yes, gorgeous boy. You’ll take turns: ten seconds each until I come.” Sophie is breathing so hard between them, and kind of trembling, and Aaron touches her face. “Calm down, love. I don’t want you hurting yourself.”

“Yes, daddy.” She swallows hard. “Can I start?” she asks them both, and they nod together. She squeezes her eyes shut briefly, slides to her knees, and moans softly as soon as her mouth is on him. In ten seconds, Aaron puts his hands carefully in her hair, guides her off.

“Spencer’s turn.” Fuck, this is so hot. He drops to his knees beside her, looks up at Aaron, and sucks tight; Aaron’s hands clench white against his desk. “Time’s up,” he rasps after ten of the fastest seconds of Spencer’s life, and when he pulls back, Sophie is on him immediately, hand on his balls, taking him deeper.

That’s not really fair, because she’s had more practice. He’ll have to find a way to catch up.

She doesn’t need to be told to stop, this time, and she puts her hand in his hair as he takes his turn, making him moan around Aaron’s cock. A slightly rougher hand grips him, tilts his head back so he slides off.

“Quietly, if you want to be daddy’s good boy,” he murmurs, and Spencer nods. He wants that more than anything. “Start over.” He sucks at the head, gets him extra wet, and bobs until he thinks it’s time; he pulls off with a lick, and Sophie leans in to lick as well, and they curl their tongues around him together even though that’s not the rule. Aaron doesn't seem to mind, tips his head back and clutches at his desk for support. “Oh, fuck. Jesus.” Sophie’s tongue touches his when she licks a stripe up the side of Aaron’s cock, and it takes all of his willpower not to come in his pants.

“Okay, my turn,” she says, breathlessly, and he pulls back to let her suck him down, stroking quickly; it’s clear he’s close, his hips moving slowly, because he knows she doesn’t like that too fast, and Spencer feels greedy, wants the come in his mouth.

“My turn,” he says, and she releases him with a sigh but bends down to suck on his balls while Spencer takes him in.

That’s enough for Aaron, and he comes with a muffled groan, flooding his mouth in a way that’s almost overwhelming, but he swallows, gasping when it’s over. Sophie kisses him dirty and deep, her tongue probing inside his mouth like she’s looking for a taste, and then she gives up and licks the head of Aaron’s dick until it’s too much for him and he guides her off.

They are all left panting, and Sophie pulls Spencer against her, nuzzles his throat.

“Can I suck Spencer, daddy?” she asks in a small, needy voice, and he groans softly. Aaron fixes his clothes, scrubs a hand through his hair.

“Yes, you can, my perfect little come slut. You’re unhappy because Spencer got to swallow for daddy, aren’t you?” She bites her bottom lip, and her eyes are wet as she nods. Spencer pulls her in for a hug, rubs her lips with his thumb. “You’re going to have to learn to share, sweetheart. I know it’s hard.”

“It’s so hard, daddy.” Aaron crouches down to their level, touches them both gently.

“I know, baby girl. I’ll let you suck him, but first, bend over the desk.” She practically scrambles into Spencer’s lap at his deep, stern command, whimpers quietly.

“What did I do?”

“I was trying to give you two instructions and you pounced on me. You were greedy and impatient because you wanted to suck daddy’s cock so badly. You’re going to get four spanks from each of us.” She looks at Spencer, squirms in his lap, and he kisses her softly.

“You heard daddy. Over the desk.” She takes a deep breath and Aaron stands, helps her up, guides her to the desk so her arms are stretched across it and her ass is out for them. Spencer rises to his feet, and Aaron pulls him closer, kisses him hard.

“Take down her pants. She was very naughty, and she needs to really feel these ones.” Spencer takes a rough breath, nods, and unbuttons her jeans, slides them down her thighs; she’s wearing a thong, so that can stay. Daddy’s rules. “Good boy. Kiss me.”

His mind goes blank. Even after sucking Aaron’s cock and swallowing his come, the thing that makes Spencer the weakest is hearing him say kiss me. That’s very interesting.

His heart rate picks up, and he flushes, pulls him close, kisses him deeply. Aaron’s lips are softer than his words, almost reverent as they move against his, and Spencer feels lightheaded when it’s over. “Perfect, shy boy,” Aaron murmurs, and he takes one of Spencer’s hands. “You first. A little harder than last time.”

“Yes, daddy,” he breathes, and the hand not holding Aaron’s comes up to smack her ass, making her lurch forward and whimper softly. Aaron leans in to whisper in her ear, and she wiggles at his words.

“Again, baby,” Aaron tells him, looking back, and he spanks her again; her head comes up like she wants to moan, and she’s panting, but Aaron shushes her, pushes up her shirt and runs his hand soothingly over her back. “Good girl, just two more and then Spencer will come kiss you. You love his kisses.” He looks back at him, nods, and this time when he hits her, Sophie’s hips move afterward, like she’s looking for friction against the desk. It’s incredibly arousing. “One more, horny girl. You know you can’t get off like this, but you try anyway because you’re so fucking desperate.”

“Desperate, daddy,” she repeats, voice quivering, and after his final blow, she groans softly, sighs. He’s not sure why she sounds relieved; Aaron is only going to spank her harder. “Kisses, daddy?” she rasps, and Aaron lets go of his hand; the other hand is stinging, and he walks around the desk, presses it to Sophie’s hot cheek while he brings her close for a kiss. She sighs again.

“Four more, baby girl. You can take it, you’re my tough girl,” Aaron says, and he smacks her; Spencer watches her face carefully, marvels at how pain and pleasure are equally reflected in her eyes, her mouth. He presses his lips to hers again and she looks up at him like he’s her salvation; it’s enough to make him moan, press against his erection, and Aaron notices. He wonders if that means he’s in trouble. He didn’t ask to touch himself.

Aaron looks at him for a moment, then lifts Sophie by her hips, lays her more on the desk, so her feet are off the floor and she’s closer to Spencer. He licks his lips.

“Take out your cock,” he instructs, and Spencer does, fingers eager and clumsy as they unzip his fly. “Suck, baby girl.” Sophie shudders and scoots forward, takes him in hand, starts sucking like she’s never going to get the chance again. His eyes snap closed and he exhales deeply, palms pressing against the desk. “Stop.” She releases him, panting, and Aaron spanks her; her head sags, and Spencer leans down for a kiss.

“Good girl, you’re doing so good. Your mouth feels so good. Just two more and you’re done, perfect girl.” She nods weakly, her body shaking, and Spencer looks to Aaron.

“Time to suck, baby.”

He puts his hand around the shaft, brings his dick to her lips, and she covers his fingers with her own, sucks a little less enthusiastically—but for Sophie, that doesn’t really mean much. Her mouth is so wet, and he bets her pussy is too; he hopes she’s not so in trouble that she doesn’t get to come, because he really wants to make her come… But only if daddy lets him.

“Stop,” Aaron directs. She doesn’t, and that worries him a little. He holds a hand up for Aaron, pulls out gently, pries her fingers off, and crouches down so he can see her face. He presses his palms to her cheeks.

“Baby girl, you didn’t listen. Have you had enough?” Her eyes are a little teary, but she shakes her head no.

“I’m daddy’s tough girl. I can take it.” He sighs, kisses her mouth a couple times, presses his forehead to hers. When he pulls back, she bites her lip, squeezes her eyes shut, and Aaron spanks her twice in succession.

Her relief at being done is visible, her tense body melting against the desk, and she reaches for Spencer’s hips, but he puts his hand on her arm, stills her. “You did so good baby, so perfect, but you need to ask daddy before you finish sucking, okay? Make sure it’s okay.” She nods, and Aaron comes over to them, kneels down to kiss her, touch her, praise her.

“Spencer is right baby, you did so good for us. We’re so proud of you. You can suck Spencer until he comes in your perfect, pretty mouth, and I’m going to rub your pussy. Remember to be quiet, and I’ll get you off.”

“Yes daddy, thank you daddy,” she says, rushed, and Spencer presses himself against her lips in reward.

She groans softly when Aaron reaches back to touch her, but she’s quiet, good; he lets himself get lost in the feeling, no longer worried about following rules, or making sure she follows the rules, and he comes within seconds. His orgasm is so good, deep, all-consuming, that he just stands there and catches his breath for a minute, and Sophie continues moaning around him while Aaron strokes his fingers inside her panties.

“Amazing boy,” Aaron says, voice low, and Spencer shudders where he stands. “So good to your little girl, and so good for your daddy. So obedient and smart and pretty.” His eyes close involuntarily, and he wets his lips. These words sound so good coming out of his mouth, directed at him, that it makes him hazy. Happy. And a little horny. “Kiss her, baby, if you can—if you two aren’t such a mess you can barely think.”

He kind of is, and he knows she is, but he likes kissing her when she’s barely coherent, so he pulls out of her mouth, cups her face in his hands, and kisses her, catching her moans and whimpers with his lips. “So perfect, Sophie, so good for us. Now come for us. Come for daddy’s fingers, okay?”

“Yeah, I can come for you.” She presses up against Aaron’s arm where it lays across her ass, and Spencer thinks maybe she likes the feel of him against the stinging redness. He leans in, puts his hands on both of her sore cheeks, rubs them softly, spreads them a little, and she sighs, pleased. “Spencer. Daddy.” Aaron glances up, looks at Spencer with a soft expression, then takes one of his hands off of her ass and guides him to her pussy, has him put one fingertip against her opening. Sophie comes the first time he pushes it inside.

She is so good, and quiet, and Aaron helps her off the desk and pulls up her pants, hugs and kisses her softly, while Spencer fixes himself up—between his clothes, his hair, and the undoubtedly foggy look in his eyes, he feels like a fucked out, rumpled mess. He gets hugs and kisses too, when he’s done, and Aaron soothes them, helps them through the blankness he caused so they can function again.

Spencer and Sophie both lean against Aaron’s body where he leans against the desk; he doesn’t look fuzzy like they do, but he does look very pleased with himself, and maybe a little like his mind was blown.

“So. Do you want to hear why I called you up here, now, horny little things?” he asks, holding them both close. They nod together. “I have to work a little later than you tonight, but not much. I have rules for while I’m not there. I want you two to go home, and take a very good shower, and get into some pajamas, and watch tv until I get there. You can make out or otherwise do whatever you like, but you may not come until I get home.” He kisses them each on the mouth once more. “I’ll bring dinner. Understood?”

“Yes, daddy,” Spencer says, licking his lips.

“Yes daddy, no coming,” Sophie recites, and she takes Spencer’s hand. “Back to work, daddy?”

“Back to work, baby. Smart and beautiful girl.” She gets another kiss. “Smart and gorgeous boy,” he tells Spencer, and he gets a kiss too. “Text me when you make it home, I probably won’t see you before you leave.”

“Okay, love you, daddy,” Sophie says, and Spencer follows her to the door, but she stops, puts a hand to her mouth and looks back at Aaron. “The fucking door is unlocked.” Aaron stands up straight, no longer relaxed as he had been, and he walks toward them. Sophie looks up at Spencer and swallows hard.

“Who closed the door?” Aaron asks, and Spencer swallows too. Aaron’s eyes are very hard and his jaw is clenched, and Spencer suddenly feels very, very small.

“I did,” he answers.

“Try again. I did, what, Spencer?”

Fuuuck.

“I did, daddy.” Aaron crosses his arms—looking extremely hot, for the record, like too hot for Spencer by tenfold—and then sighs very deeply.

“Okay. You obviously know you need to be more careful. I don’t need to tell you what could have gone wrong.”

He really doesn’t, because about a million things are running through Spencer’s head, and they all lead down a very bad road of joblessness, homelessness, Aaron-and-Sophie-lessness, and general mortification. He’s glad he’s not being made to feel worse than he already does.

“I will let you choose how you would like to be disciplined, since it’s your first time; it doesn’t have to be spanking, that’s just what Sophie prefers. She can explain your options later.” He uncrosses his arms, runs a hand through his hair. “Really, it’s my fault for not going over the rule again. What’s the rule, Sophie?”

“If you close the door, lock it, every time,” Sophie says quietly, squeezing his hand.

“Right. What’s the rule, Spencer?”

“If you close the door, lock it, every time.”

“Good. I’m not angry, so please don’t be upset.” He kisses them both. “I have a meeting at 3, so I need to get ready. Take care of each other,” he instructs softy, touching both of their faces, and they head downstairs.

Sophie remembers to let go of his hand, or he would have held it all the way to her desk.

“Was that a partner performance evaluation?” Prentiss asks when they sit, unlock their desktops. “I didn’t know Hotch was doing those already, it’s only May.”

“Just squeezing them in when he can, I guess,” Sophie answers. Spencer’s glad, because he still feels kind of low, doesn’t really feel like talking. She kicks at his foot lightly under the desk, a tap he thinks means ‘I’m here.’ Take care of each other. “Yours will be next week, I think he said.”

“Good to know we don’t have to dress up or anything. You look like a college kid and Reid looks like he just rolled out of bed,” Morgan teases, and he freezes for a second. He thought he fixed the blowjob hair. Sophie scoffs.

“He does not. I think he looks really cute today.” Another tap.

“Of course he does,” Prentiss says kindly. “So, how did you do?” He looks up at Sophie, and she smiles, takes a sip of her certainly lukewarm tea, taps his foot again.

“Very satisfactory.” The rest of the work day drags on, and Spencer looks sad about the door thing, so Sophie really wants to make him feel better. She starts by letting him drive to the apartment, and choosing the cheesiest 80s ballads to sing in the car on the way there. When she sings Keep on Loving You by REO Speedwagon as dramatically as possible, he smiles like she’s his favorite thing in the universe, and her heart feels so very full.

When they make it home, she gets them in the door, and then kisses him soft and slow, drags him playfully to the bathroom by his tie. He laughs, and puts his hands on her hips to stop her so he can kiss her properly again. “Hey,” she says gently when their kiss breaks, touching his face. “I really enjoyed myself earlier. Forgetting to lock the door, that’s okay. I did it too, once.”

“Oh, were you in the middle of a kinky threesome with your pants down?” he asks sarcastically, and she rolls her eyes.

“No, but I had Aaron’s head up my skirt and my tits out, so it still probably would have been frowned upon to have an audience.” He laughs softly, and she runs her hands down his body, pulls open his belt. “I don’t want you to feel bad, that’s all. It was an accident, it happened, it’s over. I get you all to myself for a couple hours,” she says, trying for coy, “and that’s never happened before, so I kind of wanted to enjoy it. You?”

“Yeah, I want to enjoy it,” he agrees, takes her face in his hands for a kiss. His lips always feel so good, like they’re caressing her wherever they are, and she sighs happily. “But remember, no coming,” he adds, voice low, and she gives him an appraising look.

“Is that my daddy talking? ‘Cause I want to know how bratty I can be.”

“I’ll be whatever you want me to be,” he murmurs, pulling her t-shirt over her head, and she guides him down for a deep, steamy kiss.

“In that case, I just want Spencer.” She unbuttons his pants, loosens his tie, and they finish undressing each other pretty quickly for two people who aren’t actually going to have sex. When they step under the hot waterfall of the shower, they kiss and touch a little more, and she moans against his arm when he reaches down to touch her between her legs. “What happened to no coming?” she breathes, and he grins a bit wickedly.

“From what I’ve seen, you’re pretty good at not coming. Almost as good as you are at coming. Maybe I want to tease you a little.”

“If you really want to tease me, put your dick in me and don’t let me come on it.” He licks his lips, looks calculating, and she holds up her finger. “No, stop, I’m just kidding. Do not do that. I might cry.”

“What I’m hearing is, not tonight, Spencer,” he emphasizes. “That sounds like something your daddy might do, though, sometime.” She squeezes her legs together, loves when he refers to himself as daddy, even if she likes playing with Spencer as he is as well. Her pussy is complicated.

“Yes, definitely. For now, though, there’s something I wanted to talk about.” He looks at her, so serious, and she touches his face. “When daddy says to take a very good shower, that usually means anal, of some sort, so. Since he told us both to shower… is that going to be okay with you? Because if it’s not, that’s a grenade I’m happy to fall on for you, so to speak.” She sees him process that, and he flushes pink.

“Yeah, yeah. That’s okay with me. I’ve never seen him do it to you, but you like it? It doesn’t hurt?” He cups her cheek, her wet hair, so gentle.

“Well, what’s okay for me may not be okay for everyone, but yes, I like it, and no, it doesn’t hurt. Aaron is so good; he takes his time and makes it feel so good that even his cock isn’t too much. And he goes slow. It’s not like porn, you know? That stuff is made for and by people who fuck, not people who get fucked.”

“Yeah, I get that. I want to, I—I want to.”

“It’s not a guarantee or anything, if he’s not feeling it, but I wanted to let you know just in case. And for the record, I think it would be really sexy to watch him come in you.” Just the thought makes her super horny, and she can tell it makes him lose his mind, so she guides him down for a kiss so she can get her tongue in his mouth. They kiss for a long time, and when Spencer pushes her up against the glass door of the shower and it rattles in the track, she moans. “Fuck, I’m so horny. If I didn’t get spanked already today I’d get off and say fuck the consequences.”

“I think it would be worth it, to feel you come on my cock,” he pants, grabbing her ass, and she holds his shoulders tightly, moves so that his knee is in the perfect spot for her to rub against. When she starts, he groans, squeezes her tighter. It still kind of hurts, which feels really good. “Baby girl, you’re killing me.”

“Just a little taste,” she begs, grinding her pussy on him, and he lets her for a minute before stopping her with forceful hands on her hips.

“Okay, okay. I don’t want you to get in trouble. Let's get cleaned up so when he gets home we’ve been good and we get what we want.” She knows he’s not daddy right now, but he’s being so sweet, and taking care of her, that she feels herself falling, a little bit. She swallows, nods.

“Okay. Thank you.” They kiss, but they don’t let themselves get distracted; they clean up well and dry off and get into pajamas—Spencer’s wearing boxers, and they’re each wearing one of Aaron’s t-shirts, because he’s not the only one who gets to be a fucking tease—and they’re on the couch making out when he makes a soft noise like he’s remembered something.

“You’re supposed to tell me how I can be punished.”

“Disciplined,” she corrects, gently. “Aaron doesn’t like to think of it as punishment, but discipline. If you call it punishment, he won’t do it. But anyway. You could be spanked, like me, or tied up and not allowed to touch him—that’s too much for me, I cried. Aaron does not like to see me cry.”

“I wouldn’t either, baby. You’re too sweet, you don’t deserve to cry. You only deserve good things.” She thanks him, kisses him softly, tenderly, climbs into his lap.

“You could also have him deny you an orgasm for a while by like, literally pretending you aren’t there. We tried it and I cried again, but don’t let me scare you. You might like it.”

“Soft, sappy girl,” he says with a half smile, and she wants to kiss it off of him.

“Yeah, what can I say? I'm just as emotionally needy as I am physically. Fair warning.”

“I think I’m up to the challenge,” he says, looking serious, and he brings her close for another sweet kiss that turns more heated as she presses closer, winds her arms around his neck. “Sophie,” he sighs between kisses, and she weaves fingers in his hair.

“I want you.” Her brain is clouded by lust, and while it’s not the dizzying pleasure of being dominated by her daddies, it's something more, she can feel it. “I want you just as you are, funny and sweet and shy and the smartest guy in the room no matter what room you’re in. I love all that about you.” His hips move under her, she can feel how hard he is, and she moves too, grinds down, kisses him.

“I love you,” he pants, and her hips still, because despite all the sweet and sexy and frankly filthy things he’s said to her in the last month, it’s the first time he’s said that. “It’s okay if you don’t love me back—”

“Oh, shut up. I love you.” She climbs off his lap and tugs his boxers down, and she slowly sinks onto his cock with the help of his careful hands; she wraps her arms around him, puts her mouth on his as she starts to move. He pulls back to speak, and she kisses him hard. “Spencer, I swear if you talk to me about rules I’m going to murder you.”

“But no coming,” he reminds her with a groan as she bounces hard, her chest heaving. His arms are around her waist, snaked up her back, and she can’t believe plain old sex can feel this good.

“We’ll get a pass, I promise. I promise.” She pushes a hand through his hair, kisses him more gently than before. “I love you, let me fuck you. I know you just wanna be good, but let me fuck you.”

“Fuck, Sophie.” His hips slam up hard, and she swears it’s over, but he slows back down again and she sighs, like a part of her still cares about the rules, doesn’t want them to be naughty. It’s not a minute later that Aaron walks through the door, bags in hand, and Spencer groans. “Oh, thank god.”

“What’s going on here?” he asks calmly, putting the bags on the counter and taking off his tie, and fuck, that’s just what she needed to help her finish this stupid, loving, deeply hot sex she impulsively started. She comes, her hips moving fast and her pussy clenching around him, and Spencer moans and presses his face against her shoulder, holding her body tight and coming inside her.

Aaron comes up behind her, shoves a thumb in her mouth, possessive, and she sucks it slow and then pants when it’s gone, “he said he loves me.”

He drops to the couch beside them, runs his hands over the both of them while they calm down, and then he presses his lips to theirs. He rests his forehead against Spencer’s, sweat be damned, and Spencer says, “I love you, too.”

He and Aaron kiss, and Aaron says it back, and Sophie feels kind of bad that they can’t have the same sex just yet, but she’s also not moving unless someone makes her.

“We love one man with impeccable timing,” she says when they come up for air, “because technically you said we couldn’t come until you got home, and you were very much home when your impatient little things had their happy love orgasms.”

“You can have this one on the technicality, but just because I’m happy too,” Aaron says, touching her lips. “But don’t think that means you can challenge daddy ever again, little girl, because you’ll learn quickly that it’s not in your best interest.” That sends a shiver of daddy-specific pleasure up her spine, and Spencer’s too, apparently, because he whines.

“Are you gonna fuck my ass?” Spencer asks Aaron, and Sophie laughs, because they’ve finally found the thing that makes him sound dumb, and turns out it’s just love and lots of good sex. Hilarious. They have dinner shortly after Aaron arrives at home, since Spencer and Sophie aren’t exactly desperately turned on like he’d planned, but what happened was better than he had planned, anyway, so he’s not upset in the slightest.

After dinner—which they sit through looking so sweet and innocent, as if he didn’t walk in to see them fucking in his clothes—everyone gets naked and piles onto the bed for kisses and cuddles. Aaron is in the middle of the love fest, and his heart is so full of love for them it almost hurts.

He never would have thought he’d get to have any of it, let alone all of it.

It’s Sophie who starts it—go figure—by curling her leg around his hip while they kiss, and Aaron softly but firmly tells Spencer to get the lube, which makes them both anxious and squirmy. He squeezes her cheek, gives himself a little more room to work with, and then presses a wet finger against her ass, pushes it in slowly until she gasps. He’s only gone about an inch, but that’s all it takes for her to start moaning, because she fucking loves this.

“Oh, daddy. Please, daddy.” She clings to his shoulders and hitches her leg up higher, and Spencer watches carefully as he pulls his finger out, adds more lube, pushes it in further. “Fuck, yes, daddy.”

“Be patient, sweet girl. You know this takes a while.” He thrusts his finger in and out a handful of times, and Spencer shushes her when she starts begging for more. It’d be enough to make him hard, if he hadn’t already been as soon as he walked through the door.

When she is used to the feeling of one, of how deep he can get it, he pulls out his finger, lubes up another, and slowly inches them in. She feels like silk inside, hot and smooth and perfect, and he holds her tight so she won’t try to buck into the thrusts of his hand, just in case.

“Oh, god,” Spencer groans as he watches him open her up, as he pushes just a little deeper, as he stretches her just a little further. “Can I try, daddy?” he asks, low, and Sophie moans at the idea.

“Yes, perfect boy, but you must follow the rules. Slow and easy, very gentle. Can you promise me?”

“I promise, daddy,” he says, looking so gorgeous and serious, and Aaron removes his fingers and slicks up two of Spencer’s, kisses Sophie’s skin when he slowly sinks them inside. “Oh, fuck.”

“Mmm, daddy. Spencer. Oh, please,” Sophie mewls, bringing up a hand to tug at Aaron’s hair. “Feels so good, daddy. You’re so amazing, daddy.”

“It’s Spencer now, baby,” he says softly, pushing her hair back from her face, and she leans in to kiss him.

“I know, but everything Spencer knows, daddy taught him, and it feels so good.” Aaron closes his eyes, exhales softly. She’s so perfect, and being so patient, and he loves her so much.

“Yes, baby. I taught him because I knew he’d be so good to you, baby girl, and look at him. He’s opening up your ass so carefully because he loves you.” Spencer pulls his fingers out and slicks up a third, and he’s gentle with her, moves his fingers in and out but also side to side, spreading them apart a little. She moans, clings to him, and he reaches down a hand to press himself inside her pussy, pumping slow. A little extra pleasure never hurt anyone, especially when having three long fingers working at their ass.

“Oh, god, yes, daddy.” She doesn’t move, because she’s a good girl and she knows to be still for Spencer, but he can tell she wants to, wants to force his cock deeper inside, then Spencer’s fingers. “Daddy, I’m ready.”

“I don’t think so,” he says carefully, doesn’t want to upset her. “Almost, but not just yet. Let Spencer’s fingers do their job, so his big cock doesn’t hurt you.” They both groan at that—maybe Spencer didn’t think Aaron would let him? But if he wants fucked so badly he’d like to try to soften him up a little first—and Aaron moves carefully inside her. “I’ll let you take us both together if you can be very good and still for me.”

That turns her dial up to 11, and she starts blabbering, and every other word is daddy: “Yes daddy, please daddy, thank you daddy. I’ll be good, daddy, I want you both daddy, I can take it daddy.”

“Fuck. I think she’s ready, daddy, can you check?” Spencer asks, and Aaron smiles. He is such a good boy.

“Yes, baby, let me check and then you can put your cock inside her and feel how tight she is there.” Spencer slips his fingers out, and she whines at the loss, but Aaron slicks his fingers up carefully and pushes them inside her, grinding them and spreading them apart to make sure she is okay with the stretch. She only moans, claws at his back, and he is so turned on, so ready to come inside her it’s unreal. “Okay, sweet girl, your ass is ready. Tell us if you hurt or it’s uncomfortable, and let us know if you’ve had enough. Grab a condom, Spencer.”

“Yes, daddy, I’ll tell you, I promise. Thank you.” They kiss, and Spencer puts the condom on and gets it very slippery, and he leans in to nuzzle against her neck, and Aaron holds her while he presses inside. Sophie starts panting, vibrating in his arms like she wants to move but knows she’s been asked to keep still. “Fuck, yes, oh my god. I need this. Please.”

“Easy, baby,” Spencer says, holding her hip. “You’ve got us, we’re here. Just follow daddy’s rule and be still and we’ll make you come hard.” She nods, frantic, and they move inside her, slowly, taking turns thrusting inside her perfect, tight body.

“Perfect, needy girl. Such a needy slut for us, you want both cocks inside you, fucking you together.”

“Yes, daddy, oh my god. Yes. Needy slut, I’m getting fucked just like a needy slut,” she rambles, holding onto him, reaching back for Spencer. “Spencer, I’m being a good girl, are you proud?” she asks, breathless, and Aaron groans, puts his hands on Spencer so he’ll stop moving, and then thrusts inside her a few times, coming hot and deep. Sophie moans long, and Spencer rubs his hands over her breasts.

“Yes, Sophie, so proud, you’re doing so good. Do you feel daddy’s come? Does it feel so good?”

“So good, it feels so good. Wait until you feel it. Even with a condom, it feels so good when daddy comes.”

Aaron feels lost for a moment, overwhelmed, like they don’t even need him, but then Spencer starts thrusting again, and Sophie clutches at Aaron, puts her mouth against his shoulder and moans and whines, and he remembers how special this is, the three of them, how good. How they all need each other for it to work.

“I love you, daddy. I need you, daddy,” Sophie murmurs like she can tell what he’s feeling, and he touches her face, kisses her deeply, lovingly. He reaches for Spencer, too, caresses his cheek.

“Good boy Spencer, keep fucking. She loves feeling you there. Your turn is next, but remember, you’ll have to be patient.” Spencer closes his eyes, his breathing heavy.

“Yes, daddy. I want you inside me. I’ll be patient.” He squeezes Sophie’s breasts, thrusts a little quicker, like he’s getting close. “Feeling good?” he asks against her neck, and she nods, hums.

“Yes, please come in me. You feel so good, I wanna move, I wanna come.”

“You’re gonna come, baby. You can move a little; I’ll rub your clit,” Aaron promises, and he reaches down between them, slides his fingers over her where she’s swollen. “You’re so messy, baby, between the three of us. You’re getting pumped full of come tonight, dirty, horny girl.”

“Oh, yes daddy. I’m a mess, full of come, still desperate for more.” Spencer grunts, holds her still, and snaps his hips against her, pressing deep and spilling inside the condom, and Sophie all but screams, comes, writhing between them. “God, oh god, fuck, Aaron, Spencer, fuck.”

“Fuck, Sophie, yeah. Keep coming,” Spencer pants, pumping inside even though he’s spent, and he wrings several more groans and shivers out of her before she leans back against him, sighing, satisfied. They both pull out, and Aaron hugs her close between them, because he knows she’ll feel empty and get a little sad, and he’d like to prevent that if possible.

“Beautiful, perfect, good girl,” he coos, and he rubs Spencer’s back, keeps him pressed against her. “You did so good for us, you were so full, and now you’re empty, but we’re right here. We’re still here and we’re not going anywhere.”

“Not going anywhere,” Spencer reiterates, rubbing Aaron’s arm. “So proud of you, letting us both come inside, coming so long and hard for us. You’re our perfect baby girl.” She hums, rubs against them like a pleased cat.

“I’d do anything for you, anything.” They continue to touch her and each other, give her lots of skin contact, and when she’s fully herself again they take her to the bathroom to clean her up.

Aaron pulls the comforter off the bed, because it’s a sticky mess, and they pile back on, kissing and touching softly. Spencer is in the middle, and Aaron grabs two handfuls of his ass, squeezes, making him moan.

“Are you ready to start, sweet boy? Do you want daddy’s fingers?” Spencer presses his teeth into his bottom lip, breathes hard.

“Yes, daddy. Please, daddy.” Aaron rewards him with kisses, pulls a pillow down and guides him onto his stomach. Sophie curls around his head and brushes her fingers through his hair.

“You’re going to feel so good, daddy will make you feel only good just like you did for me, I promise,” she says, and Aaron spreads Spencer’s legs, leans between them to lick gently at his hole; Spencer curses, rubs against the bed, and Sophie laughs softly. “Oh yeah. There’s that, too.”

Aaron smiles, because Spencer is going to be a gorgeous fucking mess when all is said and done, and that’s kind of what he’s been waiting for.

“Do you like that, Spencer? Tell daddy. Do you like my tongue?”

“Oh, god, yes daddy,” Spencer groans, and he leans in and licks again; Spencer’s fingers fist in the sheets. “Feels so good, daddy, thank you daddy.”

“You’re welcome, gorgeous boy. You’ve been so good for me, I wanted to treat you to something special.” He flicks his tongue quickly a dozen times, then presses the tip of it past the barrier, and Spencer arches his back, moans loudly. Sophie is getting flushed just watching him, and she smooths back his hair, murmurs sweet words just for him. “Spencer, I want you to do something for me. I want you to lick Sophie’s pussy while I continue. Sophie, open your legs for him.” She whines, but does as she’s told, and Spencer pulls her closer, buries his face in her and eats her just the way she likes. He’s had plenty of practice, by now.

She curls fingers in his hair, and Aaron dives back in, licking and probing with his tongue until he is wet and soft and moaning against Sophie’s clit.

“Oh, you’re a slut for it, Spencer, eating pussy and having your ass eaten too. Horny, desperate boy for daddy. Are you leaking onto the sheets?”

“Yes, daddy,” he pants, pulling away from Sophie, and she rubs his shoulders soothingly. “Yes, I’m a slut, daddy, making such a mess of myself. My dick is wet and my face is, too.” Aaron closes his eyes, exhales deeply. This may be a little more than he bargained for.

“Of course, dirty boy. When you eat Sophie’s pussy, you do it right, make her wiggle and whimper. You love it, getting messy, filthy.” He presses his tongue inside again, and Spencer whines.

“Fuck, yes, daddy. Filthy.” He rests his head against Sophie’s thigh for a moment and then licks at her, holding her hips, moaning while Aaron moves his tongue inside him. “Daddy, fingers, please. It feels too good,” he shudders, and Aaron doesn’t want him to come just yet, so he pulls back, leans up on his knees and finds the lube.

“Okay, since you’re such a good boy, I’ll open you up for daddy’s cock now. Do you think you can take me?” Sophie whines, either at his words or Spencer’s tongue, he’s not quite sure.

“I can take you, daddy, yes, daddy. You can hold me down, and, and…” Aaron slides a wet finger in easily, and he thinks Spencer’s mind goes a little blank. It takes him a moment to finish his thought. “And, and fuck me, daddy.”

“Oh, I’m going to, sweet boy. I’ll hold down your arms and pump into your tight, perfect ass and make you come on my cock, gorgeous boy.” Spencer moves his hips a little, rubbing his dick against the bed, and Aaron presses a palm to his lower back. “Be still, baby. You have to be patient for me or I’m going to stop.”

“Yes daddy, please don’t stop, I’ll be patient. Don’t stop,” he begs, and Aaron lubes up a second finger and slides them inside together, and Spencer trembles, whimpers.

“Put that mouth to good use and make Sophie come, filthy boy,” he instructs, and Sophie whines, rolls her hips against nothing.

“I don’t need it, daddy, it’s okay,” she pants, but Spencer knows better, shifts up to suck hard at her clit.

“Baby girl. Who is giving the orders tonight?” She moans, grinds against Spencer’s mouth.

“You, daddy.”

“Only me?” he asks, looking into her eyes as he thrusts his fingers into Spencer, and she shivers, bites her lip.

“Only you, daddy.”

“So what’s going to happen?” Spencer moans into her pussy, rolls his hips around for friction, and Aaron adds another finger, stretching him, breathing out slowly because he’s getting a little too excited at having them both at his complete mercy.

“I’m going to come, daddy.” She groans deeply, tugs at Spencer’s hair, and Aaron smiles. He knows it looks dirty.

“That’s right, baby. Can you come for me now? So I can fuck Spencer?”

“Yes, daddy.” She presses against Spencer, pinches her nipple, and whimpers, shudders, tries to squeeze her legs together as she comes. “Oh, fuck.” She bucks her hips a few extra times for good measure, then sags back against the pillows, her chest heaving. Spencer sighs, kisses her thigh, rubs her hips where his hands were rough. Aaron pulls out his fingers, crawls up to kiss both of his perfect partners.

“I love you both. So incredible for me, so good. Spencer,” he whispers into his ear, pushing back his hair, “are you ready to be fucked by your daddy?” He is sweaty, flushed, gorgeous, a complete mess, and he nods quickly.

“I’m ready, daddy.” Aaron kisses his soft, slack mouth.

“Good boy. Sophie, come lay down. Spencer’s going to put his cock in you so he has a place to come.” She runs her hands through her hair—she is also sweaty, flushed, wrecked, and so beautiful—and looks at him with desperation in her eyes.

“Daddy, I don’t know if I can.”

“You can, baby. Just be still and let daddy do all the work. You can come if you want, but you don’t have to. We’re just using your pussy for clean up, baby girl.”

He loves the look in her eyes when she gives in, slides down the bed, when Spencer hovers over her, shaking, and presses inside. She wraps her arms and legs around him, holds him close, kisses him, and Aaron crowds in behind them and rolls on a condom, slicks it up, and guides himself into Spencer’s ass.

Spencer moans so loudly and deeply that Aaron feels it in his bones, and his hands fist into the sheets again, and Aaron thrusts inside, slow and steady and long, the tight heat around his cock threatening to end things before he’s ready. He drapes himself over Spencer’s back, pumps shorter, shallow, kisses his shoulders.

“Good boy for me, Spencer. Daddy feels so good inside you, doesn’t he?”

“Yes, daddy. So big and... and careful, daddy, thank you, daddy.” Aaron licks his lips, covers Spencer’s arms with his own, applying a little pressure, and fucks slow, rolling his hips, grinding against him. “Yes, that feels so good, oh, god.”

“I know, baby. Sweet, slutty boy. So hot and tight for daddy. This is daddy’s ass, isn’t it?”

“Yes, daddy’s ass,” Spencer murmurs, his hips stuttering a little, making Sophie grab his back. “Only daddy has been in this ass, and only daddy will be.” Aaron exhales hot against his skin, and he leans up, because he has to come, can’t wait anymore. He has to make it good while he lasts.

“That’s right, my sweet, shy boy,” he groans, hands on Spencer’s hips, and he fucks him fast, but not rough, not hard.

“Oh, yeah, fuck, daddy, yes,” he whines, rocking back into Aaron’s thrusts, forward into Sophie, and she whimpers beneath him. “Yes, daddy, come inside me, daddy. Need you to, want you to.”

“I’m going to come, baby, hold on for me. Almost.” He fucks a little harder, can see Spencer wants it, as he works his body fast in time with Aaron’s hips. “Slutty, needy boy, messy and dirty and desperate and perfect. I love you, sweet boy.”

“Yes, fuck, daddy, needy, dirty, desperate. I love you.” He lifts a hand, covers Aaron’s on his hip, and Aaron can feel Spencer’s whole body tighten from inside when he comes, grunting, spilling into Sophie. She sighs, pulls him close, and Aaron folds forward and comes too, pressing deep, running hands over Spencer’s shoulders and neck.

He pulls out so they can get into a more comfortable position, spoons him, wraps his arms around his body and holds him tight, kissing everywhere he can reach. Sophie presses against his front, softly kisses his lips, his cheeks, and he just breathes between them.

After Spencer has calmed down a little, Sophie slides down his body to nuzzle against one of Aaron’s hands, and he lifts it, strokes her face, presses his finger to her lips so she can suck on it. He rests his cheek on Spencer’s arm, wonders how in the fuck the universe decided he deserved this.

Sophie’s sucking slows, then stops, and it’s clear she’s fallen asleep. Spencer swallows hard, clears his throat, and tips his head back for a kiss.

“Hi there, baby. You did so perfect for me, felt so good. My good boy.” He hums, and Aaron kisses him again. “You okay? What can I do for you?”

“Um. Water, please? And then, I can help you with her in the shower. I’m sure she’ll feel gross when she wakes up.” Aaron squeezes him tighter, brushes his lips over his shoulder.

“I can wash you both up, you don’t need to help. When you submit, daddy takes care of you.” He rubs his hip, massages his ass gently. “Did you like it better than being a daddy?”

“I like both,” he rasps. “They make me feel so different, it’s hard to compare.”

“I’m happy to hear that, baby. I like when you do both, too. I’m going to get you that water, and then we’ll wake her up and shower, okay, perfect boy?”

“Yes, daddy.” Aaron nods, gets out of bed.

“Oh, and Spencer?” He turns his head, soft and sleepy and pliant, so cute. “I hope you enjoyed coming tonight, because you’re going to be disciplined tomorrow, and it might be a very long time before I let you get off again.”

He groans, and Aaron grins.

#aaron hotchner x original female character #hotch x original female character #latina original female character #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #hotch x female reader #hotch x reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x original female character #spencer reid x female reader #spencer reid x aaron hotchner

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viking-raider · 3 years

Text

Quarantine: Warm Water *Cotton Candy Goodness!*

Summary: Henry’s sore from his Witcher workout, so you take care of him.

Pairing: Henry Cavill/You

Word Count: 2,225

Warnings: NONE - Cotton Candy Goodness (Yes, More cavities) Fluff, Kal, Very Small Angst, Domestic Kink

Inspiration: A one-shot by @the-soot-sprite! and I’m just really feeling the small, sweet and domestic things a couple does for each other and together.

A/N: This is really starting to turn into a mini Series xD

When you returned from your run to the store, you found Henry lying stretched out on the couch, softly snoring, his arm slung over his eyes to shade them from the dying afternoon sun. You smiled at him, knowing he must have really worn himself out.

Even though you guys were still in quarantine, Henry was still doing his tough workouts for the Witcher. So, you let him rest and put all the groceries away. But, once that was finished, Henry was still sound asleep. You couldn't help, but tiptoe up to his prone body and gingerly fold up the hem of his blue tank top. You grinned impishly, carefully maneuvering yourself between his long legs and gently lowered your head to brush your lips against his flat stomach. Henry half moaned and half chuckled, in his sleep. He had some of the most sensitive skin you had ever encountered on a man before, and you sometimes loved torturing him about it.

Grinning, you pressed your lips to his belly and took a deep breath through your nose, before pushing it out past your lips, blowing a big raspberry against his stomach, just above his naval.

The muscles in Henry's stomach tensed against your lips, his abs becoming defined under the light dusting of hair that covered his torso, and he busted out laughing, a moment before he was even completely awake from his nap. He squirmed and thrashed as you blew another raspberry against his side and several other locations on his tummy, melting him into a flowing stream of laughter, his hands moving from trying to guard his stomach to gripping your shoulders.

“Babe!” Henry panted and giggled, a huge smile on his tired face. “Ba-Baby, p-pleasse!” He begged you, his feet kicking under your mouth's assault on his stomach. “Oh, fuck! Babe, I'm sore!” He gasped, out of breath.

You sat up, your own grin melting down into a frown, suddenly feeling bad. “I'm sorry, Puppy.” You whispered, gently rubbing away the wet spots on his stomach. “I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable.” You sighed, rubbing your palms up and down his torso, now feeling the tight knots from his hardcore workout.

“It's all right, baby.” Henry sighed, catching his breath and stared up at the ceiling. “You didn't know.” He added, softly.

You frowned harder at him, then pressed an extra gentle kiss to his tummy and got up off the couch, then climbed the stairs to your shared bedroom and into the master bathroom. You stood there for a moment, reconsidering the thought of starting a nice warm shower for Henry to step into, so he could ease his sore Witcher muscles.

“Hm.”

Pulling out a nice fluffy towel and laying it out on the counter, you hummed to yourself as you plugged the drain to the huge tub and started the tap. Smiling to yourself, you reached under the sink and pulled out two round objects and padded back downstairs to where Henry was now sitting up on the couch, trying to find something on the television.

“Which one?” You asked, holding out two different types of bath bombs to him.

“Um.” Henry frowned, brows drawing together as he looked at them, before picking the one in your right hand. “That one.” He said, blinking up at you.

“Okay.” You smiled, and went back up stairs, turning off the tap of the now full tub.

You took out a washcloth and set it on the edge of the tub, put Henry's two-in-one, Cypress and Cedar scented soap next to it, with the Chamomile and Lavender bath bomb. You even lit several candles, situating them around the rim of the sink and the shelf above the toilet. Satisfied, you removed your clothing and went back downstairs, knowing that being naked would instantly entice Henry into listening to you.

“What's going on, Babe?” Henry asked slowly, his eyes wide as he took in your naked beauty.

“Come upstairs with me, Hen.” You replied, in a silky voice and turned away from him.

Henry blindly turned the tv off and followed after you, like leading an animal back to their pen. “What's this, Nugget?” He asked, as you both entered the candle lit bathroom.

“We're going to take a bath.” You smiled at him, curling your fingers around the hem of his tank top.

Chuckling, Henry lifted his arms and let you take his tank top off. Setting his tank top aside, you gently pulled open the ties of his sweat pants and tugged them down his thick thighs, followed by his boxers. You rubbed your palms up and down his sides, pushing up on your toes to peck him on the lips, then moved away from him.

“In you go.” You told him, with a playful pat on the bum.

Giving you a sly smirk, Henry carefully stepped into the tub, moaning as he lowered his large frame into the hot water. He leaned back and stretched his legs out, opening them, so you could take your usual bath time spot between them.

But, you shook your head at him.

“Nope, you're the little duck in this rub-a-dub-tub.” You chuckled at him; he always referred to you as the 'little duck', when the two of you took a bath together, making him, of course, 'the big duck'.

Henry narrowed his eyes at you, but moved forward, so you could move in behind him, hugging your legs around his waist and wrapped your arms around his upper body to reach out and drop the bath bomb he picked into the water. Henry laughed, finally putting together all the puzzle pieces as he watched the bath bomb spin, bob and fizz out its fragrance and turned the water a purple color.

“You drew me a bath, to relax.” He sighed, looking over his shoulder at you.

“I did.” You smiled, hugging your arms around his torso and pressed your lips to the very base of his neck. “You need to relax and your muscles are sore, cause you're a hard worker, and you deserve to relax and not have to always work so hard.” You told him, rubbing your palms up and down his chest, gently kneading as you did.

“Thanks, love.” He whispered, touched and warmed at your effort to make him feel better.

Smiling softly at him and kissed his shoulder, you sat there like that with him, for several long minutes, cuddling in the hot and steamy purple water, the pleasing and relaxing scent of Lavender and Chamomile permeating in the warm mist around you. Grabbing a small cup, you had also set out while prepping Henry's bath, and filling it with the bath water, you carefully nudged Henry forward, so he could rest against you and tip his head back. You cupped your free hand against his forehead to keep the water out of his eyes and face, and carefully poured the cupful of water into his dark curls.

Pouring another cup of water into his hair, you let Henry sit back up and grabbed his shampoo, squeezing it into your hand, then gently started working the shampoo into his hair and scalp, going extra slow and massaging his scalp and head as you did. Henry moaned loudly as your fingers scrubbed deep into his hair, it almost felt like you were scrubbing and massaging his brain. He slowly melted, like the bath bomb bobbing between his bent knees; hunching forward and nodding off.

You smiled softly, hearing the change in his breathing. Gently leaning him back against you again, Henry barely stirred as you methodically rinsed out the shampoo, then grabbed the wash cloth, using the soap to lather it up and pushed him forward again, careful he didn't go completely forward. You used the soapy cloth to rub and massage Henry's neck and shoulders, spending several long minutes working at each location to untangle the knots his workout and regular stress had caused, then moved over the broad expanse of his back, dipping into the water to knead his hips, before moving on to his heavy arms.

You washed and massaged every inch of Henry's body you could reach, before rinsing the soap away, then leaned back, allowing his body to comfortably rest back against you. Your fingers trailing up and down his chest and nearly falling asleep yourself. Henry took a deep breath, his blue eyes blinking around the bathroom, the cooling water lapping at his chest as he shifted against you, sitting up.

“How long was I out?” He asked, blinking and glancing at the clock.

“Oh, about twenty minutes.” You chuckled and rested forward against his back, your cheek pressed to his shoulder. “Sleeping like a baby.” You teased him, kissing the side of his neck.

“It's like you bewitched me.” Henry chuckled back.

“Let's get out.” You whispered, feeling him struggle to keep his eyes open.

“Hmm.”

Was his reply, sluggishly standing up and stepping out of the tub, while you pulled the plug on the water and stepped out with him.

“Here.” You smirked, watching him fumbled with the towel. “You're one relaxed and sleepy, Puppy.” You cooed at him, taking the towel from him, unfolded it and started rubbing him dry.

“I feel like I've been drugged.” Henry lazily smiled back, his large body wavering for a moment, causing him to grab the edge of the sink, to stay upright.

“The wonders of hot water, a clean body and a solid massage.” You replied, rubbing the towel over his side as you moved around to his back.

“You know, what would make it a million times better?” He asked, yawning sleepily.

“Tell me.” You replied, maneuvering him yourself, so he sat down on the closed toilet lid.

“A snuggle, in a warm bed with the love of my life.” He mumbled and hummed, as you draped the towel over his head and stated to dry his dripping curls, like you were polishing something.

“I'll get you in bed with Kal, then.” You quipped, smirking as you finished drying his hair.

“It's going to get messed up.” He protested, as you started brushing his wild and fluffed up curls.

“Hush your face and enjoy it.” You tutted at him, taming his curls. “Arms up!” You sang out, picking up his spray on deodorant.

“I can't pick my eyelids up, and she wants me to put up my arms, Kal.” Henry commented to the Akita, who had come into the bathroom during his nap in the tub.

You giggled and grabbed the wrist of Henry's left arm and lifted it, then sprayed his armpit with the deodorant, before giving his right armpit the same treatment. “I love you to death, dearly and truly, but you're brushing your own teeth, yourself.” You told him, drying yourself off.

“Oh gosh, gone from the Witcher to the invalid with one bath.” You huffed playfully, at his whine. “I'll wet your toothbrush.” You said, taking the electric toothbrush from the cup it was stored in, wet it under the sink tap and put a dab of his Oral-B, charcoal toothpaste on it.

“That's all you're getting out of me, sir.” You told him, turning the toothbrush on and handing it to him. “Well, almost.” You poured a capful of mouthwash for him.

Both of you bathed, dried, hair tamed and teeth brushed, you directed your zombie-like boyfriend to his side of the bed and sat him down, then returned to the bathroom to blow out all the candles. You chuckled, finding Henry hunched over again, having dozed off in the minute it took you to blow the candles out. Shaking your head, you pulled down the blankets and gently pushed Henry over, to lay down on the bed.

“Ssshh.” You cooed at his sleepy whimper, then covered him up.

“Babe.” Henry mumbled, not even really awake.

“What, honey?” You whispered quietly back, not wanting to bother him, in case he was just mumbling in his sleep.

“I don't wanna snuggle with Kal.” He murmured, his brow creasing. “I wanna snuggle with you.”

A smile instantly spread across your face, he had been so tired and relaxed, that your Bear of a boyfriend, had completely missed your humor. “Okay.” You said softly, gently brushing your fingers over his wrinkled brow, smoothing the crease away. “I'll let him know, he has to get out of my spot.” You assured him.

“Okay.” He let out in a soft sigh, his entire body going slack against the mattress.

“Sorry, Bear.” You whispered to Kal, who sat at the foot of the bed.

You turned the lights out and crawled into bed with Henry, gliding your hand up his arm and kissed his cheek as he rolled over at your touch, wrapping his arm around your waist and hugged you against his body, tucking you beneath him as he pillowed his heavy head on your breast. You pulled the blankets over you both and carded your fingers through his damp hair, massaged the back of his neck and caressed the space between his shoulder-blades; slowly falling asleep yourself.

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officialaemondtargaryen · 3 years

Text

Five Kisses pt. 2

Summary: Your relationship with Bucky is defined by five different kisses

Characters: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 1,877

Author’s Note: I hope that you are all enjoying this little series. This part will include one kissing trope: the “accidentally-witnessed-kiss”. In part one, we covered two tropes; “kiss-in-a-dream” and the “first kiss”. I think this is going to be four parts long, so I hope you all will stick with me through it. Please keep in mind this is the first thing that I have written in four years, so please be nice to me <3

You can find part one here!

The next few weeks seemed to fly by.

You had been working so much that you hadn’t really had much time to think about that night. Your boss had even commented on your work performance, and your recent knack for finding things to keep yourself busy with. You were afraid that if you allowed your mind to wander, you’d literally unravel. And you couldn’t let that happen, because you were doing a pretty amazing job at pretending like nothing had ever happened.

Bucky had come over to the apartment a few times since. The first time, you panicked and acted as if he was invisible. The second time, you lied about having food poisoning and spent the entire night in your room watching Schitt’s Creek while everyone played Mario Kart in the living room.

So, everything was back to normal.

And no one suspected a thing.

Or so you thought.

“Hey, do you mind if Steve and Buck come over tonight?” Natasha asked, standing in the threshold of your room.

“Why would I mind if they come over?” You asked, looking up from your laptop.

Natasha shrugged. “I feel like you’ve been a little more avoidy than usual, lately.” She said. “Wasn’t sure if something happened that night that Steve and I didn’t make it out to Josie’s.”

“No,” you said and shook your head. “Nothing happened. I’ve just been really busy. I’ve had a huge workload lately, and you know I’m not the best at dealing with my stress.”

It wasn’t a lie.

“Well we’re watching that new Tom Hanks movie later if you want to join.” She offered. “I think Steve said something about ordering pizza.”

“Tom Hanks and pizza?” You asked and Nat nodded. “How could I resist?”

You figured it best to at least try to not be ‘avoidy’ as Natasha called it earlier. After all, how long could you really get away with it? Bucky was constantly around and you couldn’t have food poisoning every few days. You knew that sooner or later you would have to face him, be around him, talk to him- but you were scared. What if he had realized that it was a mistake? What if it was just the alcohol?

What if he didn’t feel the same way?

Part of the reason why you had buried yourself into your work and hobbies was so that you didn’t have to think about things like this. Because the thought of him kissing you the way that he did, and then realizing that it might have been a mistake, nearly broke your heart.

A few hours later, you were sitting on the couch when you heard the sound of boots in the hallway. The front door opened to reveal Steve with a couple of pizza boxes and Bucky was behind him with a few bags of other snacks and a case of beer. His eyes found you almost instantaneously and you quickly averted your gaze back to the TV.

“Hey, Y/N!” Steve was smiling from ear to ear. “Long time, no see.”

You rolled your eyes and stood up, helping him with the pizza boxes. “I hope you made sure to get the garlic sauce.”

Steve sighed, “I forgot.” You gave him a scowl. “I wasn’t sure if you’d be joining us. I mean, you spend one night alone with Buck and suddenly you fall off the face of the planet! Was the night that bad?”

You were starting to get the impression that everyone already knew you and Bucky had kissed, and they were now just trying to get you to admit it. First Natasha’s comment about ‘something happening’ and now Steve. You bit on your lip and glanced over at Bucky. His eyes were downcast, pretending to be interested in setting up the table, but you knew he was avoiding your gaze.

Steve stood in between the two of you, looking back and forth at each of you until he bursted out in a loud laugh. “I’m kidding! Relax!”

He continued to chuckle to himself as he headed down the hallway towards Nat’s room, leaving you and Bucky in the kitchen, alone, the first time you had been alone with him since that kiss. But, as if it were now second nature to you, you pretended as if he wasn’t even there and turned on your heel towards the cupboards to grab some plates.

Bucky didn’t move however, he just stood idly at the end of the table; fingers fumbling with the napkins that came with the pizza. You turned back around, plates in hand and sat them down on the table. Your heart was pounding so loud, you were sure that he would be able to hear.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he said quietly. You opened your mouth to object, but he shook his head. “Don’t try and deny it.” He said, his lips curling at the ends into a small smile. “Natasha told Steve that you didn’t really have food poisoning.”

Thanks Nat.

“You’re right,” you admitted. “I have been avoiding you.”

“Why?” He asked, completely oblivious- you were half hoping that he would figure it out on his own.

Now you were really caught between and rock and a hard place. You could confess to him all of your feelings and your fears, but the thought of doing so terrified you. All the while, his eyes were piercing a hole straight though to your soul, it seemed, as he waited for an answer.

“I don’t think that now is the best time to talk about it,” you told him with a gesture towards Nat’s room. “They’re already suspicious.”

Bucky nodded his head, “so you’re like worried they’ll find out, or somethin’?”

Immediately, you rolled your eyes. “No. Yes. I- I don’t know, okay? Look, can we talk about this later?” You asked him. “GUYS, THE PIZZA IS GETTING COLD AND I’M STARVING!” You yelled to Steve and Natasha who were probably eavesdropping on your conversation right now.

You could hear them start heading down the hallway towards the kitchen.

“So, who’s ready to eat?” Steve asked rubbing his hands together.

Natasha and Steve took up most of the couch during the movie, leaving you and Bucky to share the loveseat. Knowing that it was too small for the both of you to sit on it comfortably, Bucky ended up sitting on the floor with his back to you. Finding it incredibly hard to focus on the movie, you spent most of the two or so hours staring at his perfectly tousled, chestnut hair.

Your phone buzzed and you quickly glanced at the screen to see a text from Natasha. “You’re staring,” the text read and you looked up at her to see her looking right at you with eyebrows raised. You texted her back quickly, advising her that she should be paying attention to the movie and you saw her roll her eyes upon receipt.

When the movie ended, you noticed she and Steve whispering among themselves and not too long after that Steve stood up from the couch. “We’re going to run down to the store and grab some ice cream.” It was completely random and you definitely knew now that they were both up to something. “Does anyone want anything?”

You and Bucky shook your heads in sync.

They left shortly after and the apartment was suddenly filled with an uncomfortable silence. It was now or never for you and Bucky, and you knew that- and you weren’t sure how long Steve and Natasha were going to be gone for. He stood up from his place on the floor and moved to sit on the couch, directly across from you.

“Well this is incredibly awkward,” you said and he let out a laugh. A loud sigh escaped your lips as you tossed your head back on the cushion. “It’s not funny, Buck.”

“You’re right,” he replied trying to keep himself from smiling. “It’s cute.”

You sighed again. “Look, a few months ago, I didn’t like you at all. I’ll admit, I didn’t have a very good reason for it, but that’s besides the point. But then- I don’t know, something changed. And I wasn’t necessarily sure how to deal with it so I just kind of-”

“Avoided the situation.” Bucky confirmed and you nodded.

“But then we had a great night out and we kissed,” you continued. “And because my feelings had already begun to change before that, I guess I was just afraid that maybe you wouldn’t feel the same, and the reason you kissed me was because you were drunk.”

Finally. You hadn’t said any of this aloud to anyone and now that you had, it felt like a giant weight being lifted off of your chest.

“You thought the only reason I kissed you was because I was drunk?” He laughed again. “I guess we’re both pretty bad at conveying our emotions, then, because I have been wanting to do that ever since I first met you. And, since we are getting everything out in the open, I have a small confession to make.”

“What’s that?” You asked.

Bucky stood up from the couch and crossed over to sit next to you on the loveseat. He turned his entire body towards you and took your hands in his. “Don’t be mad okay?” He said, suppressing a small smile. “But I kind of asked Steve and Nat not to come to Josie’s that night.”

You pulled your hands from his and stood up from the loveseat. Bucky stood up, as well. “I knew it!” You exclaimed, jutting a finger into his chest. “Well, I suspected something. It was their idea to go out!”

Bucky grabbed your hand and intertwined your fingers, pulling your arm behind him to wrap around his waist. “We were having such a good time,” he said. “You weren’t actively hating me.”

You smiled and shook your head and wrapped your other arm around his middle; leaning your head against his chest. “You made the right call.”

Bucky looked down at you kissed the top of your head. You moved to look up at him and he placed a finger underneath your chin, holding you in place as he closed the gap between you. It was even better than the first time, if that could be possible. He pulled you tight to him, as if you weren’t already close enough, and allowed his hands to explore your backside. You giggled as he cupped your ass, which prompted him to only deepen the kiss.

As soon as you remembered that Steve and Natasha could walk through that door at any moment, the front door flew open. You jumped back to see your friends standing in the doorway with wide eyes, mouths open with surprise. Bucky sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck with his hand and you could see a blush creeping up to his cheeks.

“You owe me twenty bucks,” Steve said to his girlfriend.

You rolled your eyes and then noticed something off as neither one of your friends were carrying any bags from the store that they had said they were going to. “Wait a second, did you guys even leave to get ice cream?”

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lene-loki · 3 years

Text

Never Too Close

Summary: After the events of Avengers: Endgame, (Y/N) Romanoff is mourning the death of her sister Natasha. She is unexpectedly finding comfort in the presence of someone who shares the pain of losing the people he loved.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Natasha Romanoff!Sister Reader

Warnings: Character Death, Spoiler for Avengers: Endgame, Angst, Grief, Suicidal Thoughts

Word Count: 2264 Words

A/N: I hope ya’ll liked this Imagine. Please let me know if you want to get tagged on future Imagines or Series that I want to write. This isn’t proofread and please excuse grammaticaly and verbal mistakes since English isn’t my mother tongue. And now please enjoy!! With Love, Léne xx

(Y/N) = Your Name

The pouring of the rain sounds like a faint whisper in the distance. When I close my eyes and listen precisely to the rustle I can almost hear the voice I long to hear. I open my eyes when the wind starts to blow into my ear, making my whole body shiver. A raindrop lands directly on top of my cheekbone and gets mixed up with a teardrop that escapes my eye. The wet droplet almost feels like a passing kiss. As if she is standing right beside me and kisses my tears away or maybe she cries from heaven herself and her tears end up on my face. I like to think that she watches me from above. Seeing my every move. Despite the rain a familiar warmth is spreading through my heart, making me feel safe and not alone anymore. My eyes blink the tears away, trying to focus on the words that are written on the wooden cross in front of me. The fact that her death is still so recent that she has to wait for a stone to mark her grave, makes me sob. I have looked so many times at that wooden cross that I started to hate it. She deserves a beautiful, carved stone. Not a dirty, broken cross where her name already starts to fade. But she has to wait. Her coffin isn’t set enough to put a heavy stone on top of the earth. I wipe the back of my hand over my tearstained cheeks before I kneel down in front of the grave. Everyday I bring a new kind of flowers by. Making the earth dissapear in a vibrant, little garden. It helps my own mental health to transform the place of grief into a little paradise for her. And I hope this is exactly where she’s at now. In a paradise. My eyes tear away from the flowers before I start counting them again like I always do. Because the number of the flowers is the number of the days since she passed away. My chest hurts, my heart starts to crumble inside when I once again think about the empty coffin under the ground. My sisters body dissapeard when she sacrificed herself to get the Soul Stone. Now all that remained of her is the memory.

Although it’s past midnight when I leave the graveyard I can’t help but to ring Clint out of his sleep - as well as his wife and his children probably. He picks up the phone with a yawn, his voice raspy from his deep sleep. He is the closest I have to family now and he knows. He always cared for me and Natasha and now that she’s gone he’s supporting me more than ever. Giving me a shoulder to cry on no matter how late it is. That is exactly whe he’s never annoyed when I call him at times like this. My loneliness leads the conversation as I tell him that I don’t know where to go. “Where are you right now, (Y/N)?” I shrug my shoulders even though he can’t see. “I think I’m near the Avengers compound.” My voice is barely louder than a whisper. My throats stil sore from my hour long crying at Natashas grave. “I can pick you up. You can stay at mines if you want.” He suggests and I can hear him fumbling with the bedsheets in the background. Ever since Natashas passing, I stayed at the Avengers compound in her former room. But sometimes it gets too much being surrounded by her memories and her whole life in just that little space. Everything in her room reminds me of her scent, her smile, her voice, the look in her eyes - especially that tiny twinkle in her iris that always appeared when she felt extremely proud of me. I have to pull myself together to not sob again and alarm Clint even more. As much as I want to escape from the compound for a little while, I don’t want to wear out Clints care for me. I feel like I already asked too much of him. “No, it’s okay. I’m sorry that I woke you.” I swallow the lump down in my throat in hopes he doesn’t hear how near I am to losing it all again. He sighs at the other end. “You’re sure?” “Yes.” “Okay, love. Don’t apologize for calling me.” His voice sounds so soft I could fall asleep immediately on the side of the road. He just has this soothing affect on me. I hang up after telling him that I love him and walk in the dim lights of the streetlamps to the compound.

Inside the building everything is pitch dark. The only light comes from Wandas room. It’s red and spreads in chaotic rays around the space of her own four walls. She surely is training her magic since she still hasn’t full control over her powers what burdened her more than usually the last couple of days. I decide not to disturb the Scarlet Witch and seek refuge in Natashas room. I really try to sleep but since Thanos happened my nights are as restless as my hurting heart. I’m still wide awake physically but dangerously exhausted mentally when I hear voices in the early morning hours in the kitchen. Wandas voice makes me wonder if she’s been awake the whole night as well. I leave the room in my short pyjama shorts and my plain white T-Shirt. I wouldn’t fall asleep anyway so I might as well just get up and start another day of inner misery. I round the corner to the kitchen island where Pepper placed a large bowl of exotic fruits on top. The blonde showed me a sad smile since she’s lost in her own grief. Pepper disappears out of the kitchen - leaving me alone with Wanda and a familiar brunette man which I recognize from Tony’s funeral. I can’t remeber his name but I recall the pained expression on his face and the devastated haze over his pupils. He seems like he always looks like pure misery. “Good morning.” I greet them both shyly since they haven’t notice me yet. Wanda immediately sends a heartful smile in my direction while the stranger’s corners of his mouth just twitch the slightest bit upward - almost to tiny to notice. I also perceive his new hairstyle. The last time I saw him he had messy, long waves. Longer than shoulder length and a full beard. Now he has his hair cut short and looking neat with his jawline covered in dark stubbles instead of the fullgrown beard. “Bucky, this is (Y/N). She is Natashas’ sister.” Wanda explains him in her thick, sokovian accent since he developed the same look of recognition on his face as me. Now the puzzle pieces click together. That is Bucky Barnes. Steves’ best friend and the other Super Soldier. His facial features unravel in realization. “Oh, right. Hello, (Y/N). Nice to meet you again and I’m... Sorry about your loss.” He frowns at the last part. “Thank you, it’s nice to see you again in less sorrowful circumstances.” I try to lighten up the mood a bit because I don’t want to start my day already with a bad encounter that reminds me once again how miserable I am inside. Unsure if we should shake hands, Bucky’s metal arm jerks briefly in my direction but he instantly lets it sink again - wrapping the room in an uncomfortable silence. “Well it was nice to see you again. I got to go now.” I excuse myself from the weird situation and leave without breakfast to go to my Natasha’s room. I still feel uncomfortable calling it my room since it was Natsha’s place to live for so many years. I didn’t completely lie to Bucky and Wanda since it’s a new day and time to pick up new flowers for my sisters grave. I change into comfy short, cotton pants and an old, blue pullover from Natashas wardrobe before I leave the compound.

I take a cab to the same flower shop I visit everyday. Where even the owner knows me by name already. Today marks exactly thirty days since Natasha died. A whole month without my older sister by my side. I ordered a special type of flower for this occasion. A bouqet of beautiful Royal Azaleas - the most precious flowers of our native country Russia. As beautiful as Natasha and I like how it brings a bit of our home to her - making her little paradise even more exotic. At the graveyard I am so consumed in my own thoughts to where I’m going to place the Royal Azaleas on the ground in front of the wooden cross, that I don’t notice right away the broad figure a few feet away from me. He’s standing upset in his posture and bent a little forward above a grave. It’s the back of his head - his freshly done hair and the colour of his shirt that gives him away and I realise that it’s Bucky. I decide against it to walk up to him since he’s mourning in his own world as well and obviously needs his space. My eyes tear away from the picture of the broken man in front of me and I finally walk straight up to Natashas grave. I crouch slightly to put my bag on the ground. I brought a little shovel to set the new flowers into the earth directly in front of the cross - making the Azaleas stand out from the rest. It is when I walk over to the well a few feet away from me to pick up the watering can, that Bucky notices he’s not alone. The can is filled to the brink and quite heavy in my hand as I carry it to Natashas grave, losing waterdrops on my way there. I silently water the flowers - careful not to drown them in the lack of strength I have in my hand that is holding the water can. The whole time I can feel his stare on me and I can almost feel his inner battle if he should come up to me or not. A few moments later he starts nervously walking up to me while I clean the little shovel to stow it away in my bag. “Do you still the need the watering can?” He asks hoarsely as he comes to a halt beside my bend over figure - blocking the sun out of my view which throws a few rays on the water droplets. Making them sparkle inbetween the flowers of Natashas floral paradise. “No.” I smile softly at him and stand up again. He returns my friendly grin and takes the water can but doesn’t leave straight away. He hesitates a second unsure of if he should leave me alone again, but somehow I long for company - not wanting to speak with the wind again and hallucinate about Natashas voice. “I lost everyone. Natasha was the only one left of my family. Although Clint supports the weight of my grief to make me feel like I’m not alone I still feel like it. I always felt like I’m alone in this world and deep down I don’t feel like I belong to the Avengers either. It was Natashas community. Not mine.” My eyes start to sting with upcoming tears while I open up to Bucky. I don’t really know why I do this. I guess I never felt so out of place and so lonely like I did in the past days and it scares me. Bucky clears his throat, his glance burning holes into my soul as he watches every slightest movement of my facial expressions. “I went through losing the people I love so many times that I lost count of it.” He blinks the tears away which threatens to fall from his eyes. “After Steve left to live the life with Peggy he always dramed to have, I officially got left alone. Steve was so much more than my friend. He was my brother.” He sniffs. “And now I’m searching for a sign - just something that keeps me in this life.” I let my tears run freely as I identify his words as my own feelings. And I realise that we are two souls hurting from the same experiences building a connection to one another through the desperation of having lost any strength to keep living. “Without wanting to get too close to you, I think you just as broken inside as me.” He speaks up. His eyes are swollen and red, still glossy from fresh tears which haven’t stopped being reproduced and leaking out of the corner of his eyes. I strangely feel comfort in the detail that his blue pullover matches mine. My heart starts to pick up a pace as I cross a vulnerable line between us and say: “I think you can never be too close to someone. I’m sure closeness is what we both need the most now.” I gift him a teary smile which he returns with a faint tint of red across his cheeks. Our encounter feels like a big step for the both of us - coming out of our shells we’ve been hiding in like anxious snails and I could feel it in the beating behind my ripcage that it was towards the right direction.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky fic #y/n #bucky x original female character #bucky x y/n #bucky imagine #marvel #avengers #endgame #clint barton #wanda maximoff #natasha romanoff #black widow

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heyyyharry · 4 years

Text

"you drew stars around my scars but now i’m bleeding”

(a blurb from the My Girl Series)

…in which Y/N tells herself this is the last time.

Warning: SMUT (car sex)

Word count: 2.8k

AU: older!harry (4-year age gap), actor!harry, childhood best friends, friends with benefits.

“DON’T CALL ME KID! DON’T CALL ME BABY! LOOK AT THIS GODFORSAKEN MESS THAT YOU MADE ME!” 😔 inspired by folklore.

“Did anyone see you leave?”

“No,” Harry said, leaning back and spreading his legs as she worked his zip down. She’d been thinking about this all day, but he didn’t have to know that. If men knew how much you wanted them, they’d only want you less At least that was from her personal experience.

She took his cock out of his pants, fingers curling over the smooth, hot skin of his shaft and sliding up to tease at the edge of his foreskin. The head of Harry’s prick was already slick, and she sucked his precum off her fingers before licking her palm and stroking and squeezing around him until he whimpered. They had done this so many times that she knew his body even better than he did. She knew how to work him up, how to run her thumb over the head of his cock so he’d buck into her grip and whimper her name. But she didn’t want to hurry.

She struggled a bit to get her pants off, hating that they were in the backseat of his car instead of her place or his. They’d usually meet at hers, but her neighbour was having a party tonight; it’d be impossible for Harry to come and go without being recognised and photographed. But she didn’t need a fancy hotel room or a comfortable bed, because they were just hooking up. Nothing more, nothing less.

“Should have worn a blood dress,” she muttered, fighting her bunched-up jeans and kicking them under the front seat.

Harry laughed, but as soon as she peeled off her damp panties, his breath caught and his nostrils flared. She knew his car would smell like them at the end of the night when he drove home alone, and something about that erotic thought turned her on even more.

She gracefully slid into his lap. His hand slipped down to stroke at the silky heat of her pussy, two fingers opening her up, spreading her slick and rubbing at her clit until she began to tremble. She clutched his wrist to still him so she wouldn’t come on his fingers then kissed him before he could say a word. She bit his lip, curled her free hand into his messy hair, and moved her hips so she could rub the thick crown of his cock against her.

She’d been on the pill lately, so it was easy to just grab for his dick and guide it into her. He loved it when she told him how big he was, how full she made her feel, murmuring filthy words into his ear as he fucked her, hard and fast, flushed with the praise. But when they were as horny as they were tonight, she didn’t have to say anything; she couldn’t. Her mouth hung open without making a sound as she felt the first, deep, blunt push of his cock into her pussy. It always ached a little no matter how many times they’d had sex. He always stretched her so good, but she was too wet to need a pause.

“God, I missed you,” he hissed, filling her to the brim as she settled into his lap. She tried to ignore the effect those words had on her, and to not wonder if he really missed her or only what she was willing to give him.

She clung onto his neck and shoulders and clenched down as his hand went under her thighs, lifting her, moving her on the length of his cock. The head slid over her g-spot, and she gasped and ground harder against him. His fingers clenched around the backs of her thighs as he let her set the pace and planted sloppy kisses down the side of her neck. He nuzzled her hair out of the way and made small noises against her hot skin.

She rode him faster, snapping her hips against his and making him moan. She wondered if they were shaking the car and somehow felt thankful for the fact that the car park was empty. They weren’t trying to keep it lowkey anymore.

Harry whispered her name as his fingers dug into her thighs. She can feel his dick flexing inside her. She knew he was close. He always waited on her like a true gentleman, and she kissed him clumsily as she slid a hand down to rub at her clit.

What shoved her to the edge was the way Harry groaned and bit his lip as her moving fingers brushed the base of his cock. His hips jerked, and they were both so close for each other. Her slick pussy started pulsing as she sobbed into his mouth and he squeezed her tighter, so tight she could feel his fingernails leaving marks in the soft flesh of her thighs. She would go home alone with those marks as a reminder of this moment, and she’d either feel bad about it or want him even more. Usually both.

“Yes, baby, come for me.”

And those were the words that set her off. Him calling her baby was her ultimate weakness, even if it might not mean anything to him. His thrusts were getting faster, messier, driving into the tight clench of her as she cried out and ground her hips. She shuddered against him as she came again.

“Gonna,” he whispered, his hips stuttering and his fingers tightened, and then he was spurting hotly into her, filling her up until his come was trickling back down over his balls. She was already thinking of the way he’d have to tug his coat close just in case he ran into the paps. Meanwhile, she would go back to her flat still feeling the hot pulse of him having been in her. Everything about it was dirty, and she loved it.

Harry rested his head back as she started nipping at the side of his neck, feeling his pulse racing beneath her lips. “That was...so good,” she said, still breathless.

“I know.” He gave a soft laugh which turned to a groan as she slipped off his still-hard, sensitive cock. She grabbed his face and pulled his lips back to hers. His hands burned against her back, drawing her close.

They’d had sex, again. And he still wanted her.

She had no idea why she must reassure herself that he wanted her every single time they were together. Perhaps because this felt surreal. Because if she told her teenage self that someday she’d be having sex with Harry in the backseat of his car, that girl would not believe it. In her memory, Harry had always been untouchable. Yet here he was, burying his face into her neck and inhaling her scent as if she were air. She could feel his heartbeat against her chest. This felt real. Even though she knew it was anything but.

“Kid.”

His voice snapped her back to reality. Her eyes flinched open and she saw his face twisted with worry as he took her wrist and removed her arm around his neck.

Her heart wavered at the thought that he’d finally decided that this was wrong and wanted to end this. Wouldn’t it be cruel? To say he didn’t want this anymore after he’d just finished inside her? Would he tell her to get out of the car and leave her here all on her own?

To her surprise and confusion, he lifted her arm, still catching his breath. That was when she realized he was peering at the scars on her forearm. “How did you get these?” he asked.

“I fell.”

“When?”

“A few weeks ago.” She giggled. “It’s no big deal. I was running for the bus and the pavement was slippery.”

Harry frowned. His gaze slipped from hers as he leaned in and pressed a kiss to the scar. Her heart leapt involuntarily. And she hated herself for it.

“Remember when I used to draw stars around your scars,” he whispered, his dimples darkening in the dim streetlight. The memory of the happier days warmed her from inside out, and she felt it showing on her face.

“Because I said my legs looked ugly after my bike accident,” she said timidly.

“You fell a lot back then.” Harry looked up, his forehead creasing as if he was trying to remember one of those times. “I thought you’d get less clumsy when you grew up but I guess I was wrong.”

Grinning, she wrapped her arms around his neck. “You can always draw stars around my new scars.”

“Or,” he kissed the corner of her mouth, “you can stop running in the rain.”

She laughed as she kissed him again and pretended that they weren’t in the backseat of his car in an empty car park, that they didn’t have to sneak around, that whatever she was feeling right now was valid, that he would rather be with her than go back to the world where she did not belong.

And so they finished cleaning up and laughing for a whole minute about the stain on his crotch. As she pulled her jeans back on and he adjusted his clothes, what had felt like a euphoric rush now felt like shame and a bit of regret. She shrugged it right off. It was normal. No one should be proud if they had to drive to a place like this to have sex just so they wouldn’t be seen together.

Then, the thought of them being seen together briefly crossed her mind. How would he react if the world found out? Would he be ashamed? Would he end this? Or would he say fuck it and risk it all for her?

She twisted her hair into a low bun, secured it with her scrunchie and turned to face him. To her surprise, he was giving that goofy dimpled smile that her thirteen-year-old self would write ten pages about in her journal. It was funny how he’d always been so close yet always felt a thousand miles away. She knew she was his girl, but had he ever been hers?

She reached up to fix his hair, only using it as an excuse to run her fingers through it. He took another glance at her scars and frowned a bit, which made her wonder why they bothered him so much. Was he finally paying attention to her imperfections?

“Have you got a pen?” he asked.

She looked at him funny but still answered, “Yeah, I always carry one around to take notes.” Then she reached for her bag in the passenger seat, fumbled for her black pen and gave it to him.

He clicked the pen open and scooted closer, tucking her arm under his as he held onto her wrist and carefully drew stars around her scars.

“Really?” she giggled, and he shushed her.

“Don’t move. Do you want ugly stars?”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Oh, baby, when I’m done, you’ll want to get ‘em tattooed.”

Her smile thinned as a chill coursed through her. He needed to warn her before calling her baby. It did inexplicable things to her; things she wasn’t so proud of.

“There you go,” he said and clicked the pen close with a victorious smirk upon his face.

She peered at the stars he’d drawn and raised both eyebrows. “Not bad.”

“Hey, I’m twenty-four years old. I should draw better than when I was thirteen,” he said with a shrug, laced their fingers together and kissed the back of her hand, as one would to their girlfriend. Why was she thinking of that word right now? What had gotten into her? She wasn’t this person.

The sound of a text broke the silence in the car and Harry groaned loudly before fumbling into the pocket of his coat draped around the driver’s seat. He unlocked the screen, the bright light illuminating his face. His dimples deepened as he read the message and typed something into his phone. She heard a whoosh of the message being sent, then a ding of a new one arriving. The serenity of their own world had been intruded by this person who was texting him.

She didn’t want to care who it was, who made him smile and shake his head and bite his lip as he thought of something to write back to make the person smile, too. She didn’t want to care if he was going to see this person once he’d dropped her off. She didn’t want to know if he’d wake up alone tomorrow or in bed with a beautiful woman. That wasn’t how their ‘thing’ was supposed to work. She was supposed to mind her own business. But she wasn’t to blame, for he wasn’t supposed to draw stars around her scars, kiss them like he meant it, and called her ‘kid’ and ‘baby’ as if this was special.

It wasn’t.

She wasn’t.

“It’s late,” he said and tucked his phone into the pocket of his jeans. It’s not late, she wanted to say, but she didn’t. “I’ll drive you home.”

She felt the urge to ask if he had other plans later. The question lingered at her throat, yet she swallowed it down.

“I can walk home,” she said, putting on her coat as he’d already put on his and seemed so eager to get rid of her.

“Alone? At this hour?” he asked, his eyes wide. “Kid, don’t be ridiculous. I’ll drive you.”

“It’s too risky,” she sighed. “I bet that most of my neighbour’s party guests are just arriving. His parties usually last all night long.”

She’d almost used it as an excuse to spend the rest of the night with Harry. She guessed it wasn’t happening now. She could either let him drive her home to get some more time with him or be smart about this and not put themselves in danger of being seen together. They weren’t so far from her block and she didn’t mind walking.

“I can’t let you walk home alone at night, Bambi,” he said. There was the same tone that her father would use. Moments like this reminded her that he was older and she would always be just a kid to him.

“Fine. I’ll call Alice to pick me up.”

Alice was her co-worker. But of course, she wasn’t going to bother Alice.

Harry studied her expression for a long moment as if to check if she was lying. Surprisingly, he believed her, or he had no choice but to believe her so he could leave as fast as he could.

“All right,” he said, leaned in and kissed her forehead, his lips hot against her skin. “Call me when you get home safe, okay?”

“Okay.” She pressed her lips into a smile and got out of the car.

Harry insisted on waiting until Alice arrived, but she threatened him with the fact that Alice was a big fan of his, and she’d be the last person who should find out about their “thing”, whatever this was. So Harry left first. The pained expression that he gave her before he drove off somehow made her feel reassured. Or was she just looking for any sign that showed that he cared about her more than he appeared to be?

Tearing her gaze from the empty street, she secured her bag on her shoulder and wrapped her arms tightly around herself. As she walked home, she kept pulling up her sleeve to check if the stars Harry had drawn were still there. She knew she’d have to wash them off later in the shower. Still, she wanted to keep them as good as new for as long as they lasted.

The longer she looked at them, however, the heavier her heart became. She could not help but recall the feeling she’d had when he’d kissed them, and guilt washed over her as her heart started sinking to the bottom of her chest. And so she told herself this would be the last time, that she’d not answer his call ever again. No more secret meetings and false hopes and daydreaming. If she didn’t want to bleed, she should stop running in the rain.

But there was something about running in the rain – the excitement, the longing, the feeling of being washed clean even though you’d arrived home shivering, drenched, and covered in mud. And so she knew this wouldn’t be the last time. She’d keep running until she fell and could not get up.

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