#like i keep going over the one quote: was there ever another dream... and damn kaz take a nap or a break | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

choiwrites · 2 years

Text

jjk | when it clears

Words: 7k Genres: sequel to when it rains, slight angst i guess, fluff, NOT A SMUT so i apologize Warning: language

Summary: Because after a heavy storm comes the sun that heals all the wounds and heartaches. You two meet again in better circumstances.

A/N: Before you correct me on anything, I am aware that Harry Styles composed and wrote 'Falling' but for fictional purposes, we say Jungkook wrote it. This has been long awaited and it's been a year since the last one, I was just really waiting for that grip to inspire me to write this "sequel" and then Jungkook drops a freaking cover while I was in the middle of this lmao. This isn't proofread, spare me. :(

He had that familiar conviction that life was beginning over again with the summer. That's what the old magazine at Lonepine Diner said. Life is separated into parts, and he gets to choose what he does with these parts. Years had passed since he had gone to that diner, but the quote had been a wine stain in his head.

'Has it really been that long?' he'd ask himself whenever the blazing heat in New York reminds him of the worn out pages lying near the counter of that diner.

Years. In those years, he had managed to pick himself up, piece by piece. The first year was tough, he and Namjoon had only started out the band and they would sing from hotel lounge to carnivals to stupid birthday gigs. It was rough starting over in a big city such as New York, but it was New York. How could he dream of so much better than New York?

The second year had shaken the team. Namjoon wanted to call it quits. No one will ever listen to their music, he was convinced. He admitted that there was no soul keeping the band together and they all agreed. They broke up six months after they were formed. It was devastating, but he will always remember that quote from that magazine no matter how hopeless he will feel. The place he was staying downtown started getting blue, and he was counting the days of his stay before the landlord kicked him out. He had no gig, no balance, only empty cans of stouts.

There were times he'd think maybe it really is over and the universe had sent him all the signs to give up his ambitions, but the only thing stronger than those signs was his passion to sing. He'll sing someday, alright. He'll sing somewhere people could hear him.

The last week of July that year, the same week he's about to get his ass evicted, he wrote. With only the company of his last can of beer and guitar, he wrote. The lyrics on that pizza box were barely readable, but it didn't matter because he knew them well enough in his heart as though the lyrics were only asking to be written out.

The night before his landlord came, he'd gone out of that stinky place and went around the big city. This was his last shot and if it wouldn't work out, then damn, could he get any lower than rock bottom? So, there was Rossi who had fished him out of that deep slump. Gave him a deal to write songs and got him to agree to sell the songs. It was a shit deal, nobody wants to be the ghostwriter. But he was in desperate need so he made it work out.

Then the third year came. Month of August, he was making demos and not one was ever thrown out the window. Everybody liked everything he wrote, even the big names were asking for him to write them a song or two. He was starting to get used to being unknown, maybe it's meant to be. To not be heard, but to be present; to know that his contribution was out there and is reaching people even though it wasn't heard from his own voice. It was fine by him because at least he gets to listen to his lyrics on the radio.

He may not have been successful the way he imagined it, but he could afford a place and is able to eat three times a day.

But there was something that got lost after that year. He had spent many nights drinking and trying to forget what he wants. He would just go from one bar to another, head down on the counter asking for one more glass from the bartender. The high was there and he becomes content for a while, but he sees the face of that son of a bitch boss he has and he just wants to get back to drinking. He never lets him release the raw demos, afraid that someone will find out that some singers are a fake and they lose their jobs.

He'd just feel drained so much sometimes that alcohol fills him the thirst he needs. That picture of the hopeful boy, he looks for a way to break it. Because it isn't him anymore. It's a little hard to find a door out when everything is too dark.

Tonight on the 30th of September, he sips the remaining champagne from his glass and tries to endure the squeakiness in his date's voice. Her name was Roxanne. And she loves the beach. It's all Jungkook has gathered from the past hour. "We had a vacay at Laguna, it was so so so pretty there!" "Have you been downtown Los Angeles? It's a must-see!" "My dad bought a beach house in Malibu and it's literally perfection!"

He couldn't get a single word in. At this point, he just wants to get a good night fucking and get it over with. She was his type, physically. Everything else didn't quite hit the mark. She has a great pair of breasts and luscious lips that make him hard just thinking about having it around him.

"Hey, it's getting late, don't you think?" he cuts her off from another beach talk.

She nods, looking at her watch. "Oh, uhuh. Are we going somewhere else?" The brunette winks, and he somehow didn't find it attractive at all.

"I'm kind of tired. Had a long day. I was at the gym earlier." He lied. His day started at three in the afternoon and he slept right after his cereal.

"That so?" She pulls out her purse and quickly takes a look at herself on her phone. "I'll go to the restroom first and we can go wherever you want." She smirks, he finds that annoying again. She just couldn't take a hint.

"Take your time." Once she leaves her seat, he exhales so hard the people on the other tables turned.

He was picking the leftovers from his plate with his fork. Then the nuance outside turned his head upwards. He watched the people run with their hands and bags over their heads. The ground starts to get wet. It was raining. Perfect. Just perfect. He was planning on bar hopping after he sends Roxanne home but the weather doesn't seem to be in favor of that.

In the blurry sight of heavy showers in the streets outside the windows of the cozy restaurant, he swears he sees a shadow. It always happens whenever it rains, whenever he feels a cold breeze of air. He was like Gatsby, reaching out to something amidst the darkness. That shadow happens to be the past he tries to bury; his life three years ago was something he wasn't proud of. He hated that place. He hated Lonepine. He hated the walks from his job to his crappy apartment.

'It's stupid,' he tells himself. He's not gonna get himself into that shithole again, he's never returning. Not after that one rainy night he can't seem to forget.

The shadow was that sobbing girl under the angry clouds. She's on the ground hugging her knees. But in plays on repeat, her sobs washed away by the loud thunderstorms. He knows it will keep playing and playing all over again because this time he makes the choice to keep walking, to ignore that silhouette of the crying girl in heels.

Roxanne comes back, her lipstick retouched and her eyes more lively. She takes a look outside and she grunts in disappointment.

"It's raining?"

'No shit,' Jungkook replies in his head.

"Yeah, we should really get going."

She agrees and Jungkook spends the drive listening to more of her stories. All about her co-workers being annoying, her exes being dicks, and her parents being controlling. Even when he turned the volume up on the radio, she would still manage to talk over it.

Once he had sent her home, he thinks about you again to fill the silence. It wasn't a choice, but a habit. He would draw messy circles over your face like a picture just to get the details of your features forgotten. But it never really occurs — the forgetting. Even when the thought of you doesn't match the song on the radio, you still flicker in the back of his mind like a parasite.

The thing he loved about summer was not that he could be a brand new person, but because there was less rain that reminded him of the ghost of you.

Why was he so caught up with you?

Why you?

Couldn't there be anyone else to repair the broken pieces that he is?

There will be someone out there, he'd pray. You weren't special, not really. You're not unique. You only knew how to make perfect smiles on caricatures that makes them feel so warm even when they're just... caricatures. You put too much sugar on both of your coffees and he hated that. He would wake up earlier than you just so he could skip the shit omelets you make. You knew how to drive a conversation away from you so well he doesn't realize it at times.

You're just you.

You weren't a popular actress in West Hollywood. You're not a very good singer, but you were good at talking to your plants. You serve his sandwiches with a death stare that he always finds sexy.

Sure, you weren't special. But you were to him, because you were like the one-paged-girl in a book that really teaches the reader a thing or two. And those kinds of characters were details to a thick book.

He might not say it out loud or wishes it before he sleeps at night, but if you listen closely to his heart you'll hear the desperate need to just see you one last time.

What happened to you? What are you doing now? Why didn't you ask him to come back?

Rossi had invited him as a plus-one for the Minerva Cacelli Exhibit. He's hungover, he spent last night drinking six cans of Budweiser. He was only awakened by the loud thumping of his neighbor, which was fortunate because Rossi wouldn't be happy with him being late.

He had never shown any interest in physical forms of art, he loved listening to art however. That's why he had no idea why Rossi would decide to bring him today, he could've brought the new intern Joey.

There was a lot of introduction, mundane and boring which made his headache worse. The exhibit starts just before his knee fails him. He couldn't decipher a thing or two, all he understood was that there are sculptures. In the middle of the space stand tall Minerva's works, mainly angels in an eccentric pose with bits of gold pigment. He acted interested.

They're not as good as...

There was an angel centerpiece not looked at by many and it captivated him. An angel with sunken wings as he reaches out like trying to catch something. With both hands in each pocket, Jungkook strolls around the centerpiece.

Once he had reached the hand of the angel again, there was you.

No, really. There you were standing five feet away from him, admiring the sculpture. The hand of the angel as though about to touch your face.

He took a moment to make sure the details are in-tact, because his dreams of you were always a blur and in loose strokes. But you really are here, in all its glory, carrying a serendipitous wonder in your eyes. The minute had spun around his appraisal of you and your little black dress hoping you wouldn't notice him because if you did his world might just break.

And you broke it into shards, an awe in your eyes and an unexpected smile. He smiles back without forethought, stuttering before he could even speak.

"Jungkook," you call him like it was yesterday. "What are the odds?"

"What are you doing here?" His breath hitches, and he hopes you wouldn't notice.

"Am I not allowed to be here?"

"No, what are you doing here? What happened to you? What happened?"

Your cheeks remained smiling tight as you inhaled. "A lot." Shaking your head, furrowing your brows. "I imagined running into you in New York, but I would have never imagined it like this."

What's with that smile? And why was it so sure and true? Did the three years never happen to you? Was it a blip? Why weren't you as surprised as he was?

"When... when did you move here?" He's lost in trying to understand the situation. In your calmness, he finds heartache. That rainy night still so fresh he could feel the breeze and the void you'd left him when you told him it would never work. It seemed to him that you don't remember it at all. It was so hard to smile back seeing you smile, but he felt like he had to.

"I didn't move here. I live in Edison currently. I just had to," you point around the museum, "see this whole thing."

"Don't tell me you're Minerva?"

"No! No, not at all. Minerva was a college friend and I got an invitation." You take a sharp breath. "Again, this is a weird coincidence." You laugh.

"I'm still shocked."

"So am I."

"You don't seem that surprised," he scoffed before he could think of a better thing to say.

You tuck a strand of your hair. "I just don't know what to say. Are you still mad at me?" Wandering over the missing jewelry on his brows and lips, seems like a lot has changed.

He dug for an answer. Was he? He's not exactly sure whether what he's feeling was anger or confusion or pain. One thing's for sure, he was feeling. And it was good to feel again.

"I'm not mad at you. I think this whole thing is just too overwhelming to process."

You nod. "How have you been?"

Like shit, but with more money.

"Great. I do what I love, sorta. What about you? Are you still-"

"Stripping? Yeah."

"Seriously?"

"I'm kidding." A giggle comes out of you as you place a pat on his arm. "It ended that night."

Oh.

"You and me, it was never meant to work out, right? I mean look at us, so much better than what we were."

"Yeah," he exhaled a shaky breath. "I'm glad it happened." He gulped.

"I work at a pottery store near Roosevelt Park. And at night, I go home."

He couldn't suppress his wide smile. "That's amazing. You're also sorta doing what you love."

"Yes, the owner is really nice. She's an old lady from Japan. We make these little plates and souvenirs."

He nods as you explain. "I write songs. Well, most of them are ghostwritten, but it makes money."

"You think I've heard any of them?" Your eyes narrowed in a teasing manner.

"Most probably," he winked. "You'd know, y/n. You'd know if it were written by me."

A comfortable silence works its way into the conversation. He could tell you were just as unprepared as he was. Who could have prepared for this moment? If he knew this day would come, he would've prepared a rehearsed argument why you chose to be left behind.

"Wanna talk over some coffee?"

He signals to the exit with his head. "Let's do it."

He's laid back with brows in knots still confused as to what the hell is going on. You're stirring your coffee as you keep nodding to his endless stories about how he did that and bought that.

Coffee shops weren't his thing in the afternoon, mostly because the silence was boring. Coffee shops in the morning he finds chaotic and too noisy. He had ordered only one slice of strawberry pie covered in thick chocolate frosting because you said you had a big breakfast today. He orders a caramel macchiato and you get yourself a cappuccino.

He begins asking questions after his first sip. He doesn't miss a second without knowing what happened, he's asking as though your life was a big movie.

"I regretted that night," you suppress a giggle. "But I also think it was a page turner. I called my sister and asked if I could live with her for a while. The money I had left I spent on my way to the south. Looking for a job took me ages by the way. And moved to New Jersey because... I think it's because I just like to move."

"Then I got another job, the one I talked about at the exhibit earlier. That's pretty much it. Not a lot of spice and drama." You take a sip.

"I think you're sparing me the details." The story pulls him away from you for a bit. Three years could do so much to a person. He's starting to realize the bittersweet truth of this meeting — the change. He would be an idiot to expect the same you he knew from that place, and he's an idiot.

It's not true what that one quote says. Absence makes the heart grow fonder. It's not true at all. Absence makes the heart hallucinate all the good parts to heal itself from the ones it broke.

When he looks at you, there wasn't a hint of an unresolved past. You seemed to have buried it all properly and when you smile at him, not an ounce of pain that he still has. Now that seems unfair.

"Well, in the middle of those events, I also became a spy who had to get inside the CIA and steal a microchip. But that isn't important." You wiggle a brow, taking another sip.

"Why are you lying?"

He knew the question would increase the intensity of the conversation and he knew that it would take you out. He couldn't help it, the coffee had poisoned his tongue and he wasn't able to resist its venom. You pull your hair back, trying to compose yourself.

Here it comes, he says to himself.

"Because I don't think it even matters anymore."

To him, it does. Every single thing mattered to him. The small parts of you he remembered so deeply sometimes it felt fucking ridiculous because you were nowhere near him. Writing too many songs about someone who didn't even bother as much as he did. He wants to blame you for stealing a large part of him but the presence of your mistakes were as absent as you were.

"Why not?" He forced a lighter tone.

"Because it's in the past. You told me that."

He did. And it's an embarrassment because he couldn't apply it to himself.

"Yeah," he nodded and pursed his lips, "just surprised you'd even remember what I told you."

"I remember a lot of things." You push your shoulders forward with a hint of excitement. "A lot of your plans about playing with a band and the stories about your brother."

Not exactly what he wanted to hear but it's better to know that you care even less, it's better to know now. There weren't many details, were there y/n? For a handful of seconds of silence, he was feeling content. Some of his questions are continuously being answered by the silence that glooms over the space between the both of you. That night, you were just a shit of a person, and it's all coming to him now that nothing was real ever.

The 'It's not you, it's me' line? Why did he even believe that in the first place?

Then you spoke again after stuffing your mouth with frosting. "Your singing voice, it's breathy. I'd go to sleep and your chest just makes everything feel comfortable. And no one tucks their hair like you do, I missed your long hair. It used to tickle my neck."

He doesn't know what to think or say. He doesn't try to. Because whenever he thinks of one thing, you say something else.

"The cake is really good," you add, wiping the residue from the corner of your lips.

"It is."

He forgets staring at you, he observes the street outside as if he doesn't see it everyday. You should have just kept your mouth shut. He shouldn't have asked you anything about him because all it does is ruin him. All those years wasted trying to chase an unfinished song that is you.

"I'm sorry. That was really weird. I just thought we'd laugh over it."

He pulls the cake, taking a piece with the fork. A smug look falling over his features. "It is weird." He complies with a grin that deepens the side of his cheek.

"Yeah, I shouldn't even talk about it."

With his mouth full, he asks, "Why not?"

If it all seemed casual to you, why shouldn't you look back to all the funny things you both did?

"Oh, it's weird because we weren't a thing. Knowing too much about someone but also having nothing between you two is..."

"Hmm." He agreed. "That brings the question." He twirls the fork onto the surface of the plate with his index, gazing at you over the interest of his brows. "You seeing anyone?"

"Yes."

He hums in response. "What's he like?"

"He's alright, I guess. What do you want to know?"

"I don't know. What do you want to tell me?"

You think for a moment, what's appropriate and what's not.

"We've been dating for a year. And so far, it's a smooth ride."

"Where'd you meet?"

"Uh... we've known each other a long time before we started dating so I don't really remember."

"It's raining," he says.

It wasn't a gloomy afternoon, the sun stays ablaze as the road darkens from the scattered showers.

"Feels familiar." He chuckles.

"Good thing I brought this." You open your bag, pulling out a red umbrella.

"Y/n, finally prepared for something."

You roll your eyes. "Where's yours, Mr. Ready for everything?"

"I don't find them necessary anymore. I have a car now."

"Before I forget, are you dating anyone as well?"

He holds his breath. He doesn't really know what he'll answer but he lets his mouth loose. Whatever comes out, comes out.

"Yes." He fails to hide the instant regret plastered on his face. "For months now."

"How is she?"

"She's pretty," he observes the gouging eyes you have like he was the only person you've ever seen. "I like to watch her sleep in the morning when the whole world is quiet and she's just... herself without worrying about anything."

"Sounds interesting."

"Yeah. Yeah." He paused. "She's interesting with all the little things that make her."

"When did you two meet?"

"Last May... maybe June."

You thin your lips and nod. "I wish you both the very best."

"And you two."

You watch the rain and he watches you. Admiring like how one does to a picture before burning it. All these years, he thought that when he sees you, he'll do his best to finally make it work. But now in front of him, he sees the truth. That it's not meant to be. He loved you longer than he knew you and that fantasy must be set on fire, to ashes, to smoke that dissipates in air never to be seen again.

If this is the end, it has to be better than the last one.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

He hesitates. "You look like you're enjoying the rain."

You didn't seem convinced and he hated that forced smile you returned.

"Who's the lucky guy?"

Your eyes glowed, so much spark in one question that it made his stomach rot. He regrets asking that because when you answered, there was nothing but enthusiasm and joy with every word. Did you ever glow like that when you talked about him with someone else? Did you ever talk about him?

"Remember that night when I was crying and you thought I was crying because of a guy?"

"Mhm."

"I was crying because I saw my ex in there and he was getting married. It was a bachelor's party before they go to France for the wedding."

"That's what you were crying about?"

"Well, partly. And then my best friend was there too. His name is Taehyung."

He doesn't care.

"He's a pilot and we used to take classes together. He's rarely home."

"You live together?"

"You can kinda say that. He's rarely home so I don't really know if it's living together."

The sun came back peeking through the heavy clouds and the ground felt hot again.

"Do you wanna leave?"

"Where are we going?"

"There's an arcade that I would go to when I'm off work. It's pretty cool."

The ending has to be right this time. No unnecessary drama, no unsaid words. But he seems to fail the latter part because there's just so many and they keep piling up on top of each other, fighting to break their way our of his lips.

You lost the race again and ko0k97 wins the leaderboard. Even with thorough focus, you couldn't beat his ass. He doesn't even try to beat you, he's either making fun at the way you stir the wheel or just plainly observing the way you play.

"You should give up. It's never gonna happen."

"I'm gonna make that leaderboard someday."

He laughs when you hit the wheel, completely frustrated. Before you can swipe the card again, he stops you.

"Come on, there are other games. Maybe hockey is for you."

"Oh, no. You did not just maybe my hockey skills. I am the god of hockey."

This was a mistake. He shouldn't have done this. Because now he had opened the opportunity to see you in a different light. Somewhere far away from the dark he always remembered you in. You're becoming the bigger picture he never knew. It's not the same as serving him breakfast at Lonepine or seeing you under those fluorescent lights.

He wants to say, "We should've tried this sooner." But that would be weird. He wants to say, "I wish we're like this forever." But that's just desperate. In time, the right words will come, and he hopes it soon.

"Winner gets to what?" he asks.

"Loser pays for dinner."

He rolls his eyes and then smiles cheekily.

"That's your way of asking me out for dinner?"

"Don't be so cocky. I know a five-star restaurant you wouldn't want to pay at."

Get it together, Kook. She has a boyfriend.

As much as he would love to continue the banter, he takes the game into a life-or-death situation. He's eager to win this, but you keep on owning the goal. He might have been distracted with your snarky remark.

"Someone's losing serious money tonight," you comment, a hand behind your back as you lean closer to the table.

In all honesty, he doesn't give a fuck about the money he's gonna lose. It doesn't matter. What matters is dinner. Tonight. With you.

"Don't be too comfortable," he says as the monitor signals that the game is over and Player 1 wins.

"Take that! Hah!" You put on imaginary shades and gave yourself a pat on the back.

"Okay, one more game."

"Nope!"

"Yes."

Before he swipes the card again, you approach him and pull him toward the claw machines in one line together with bright lights beside each window. He doesn't focus much on that but your hand on his wrist that takes away everything from him.

"I've been eyeing this freaky guinea pig thing ever since we arrived."

You let go of his wrist, all the focus now on trying to get the stuffed animal. Once, twice, you fail. He's fascinated with the way you play. With one hand resting on the machine and the other on his waist, his eyes go from the animal that's barely reached by the claw to the frustrated wrinkles in your face.

You release an exasperated sigh, hand clawing your face like a maniac. "It's so freaking cute."

Then you fail again after the fifth try.

"This is rigged."

"You have to wait until the claw is steady. You keep landing it when it's still shaking. Here, let me try."

He swipes his card and starts to play. He's actually focused, for a moment he takes his mind off of you and it felt relieving. It didn't feel too bad to have something else to be focused on.

He successfully picks up the toy, a chagrin smirk painted across his proud face.

"It isn't rigged. You're just not good enough."

You squeal as you reach the bottom of the machine for the plushie.

"Where are we eating?" he asks, pulling his mind away from the innocence that wraps the guinea pig.

"You like Thai food? Thai Villa is on 19th street."

"Sure," he replies. And during the car ride on the way to 19th street, he thought of the defining moment of how it came to be, the falling in love:

"Why not?"

"Because," your shoulders rise, "I have a shift."

"That's bullshit. You get off early."

"I take extra shifts." You wink, making his bed. "Put your shorts back on." You roll your eyes at the sight of him standing there naked with pride.

He doesn't comply. "When's your day-off? Come on, I really want you to see me perform."

"I would love to. I really would. But I don't have day-offs."

"Liar."

Scoffing, you face him. His hands are on his waist, lip between his teeth, waiting for your response.

"I can't talk to you with your dick out like that."

He chuckles, just slightly before he forgets the subject. "Y/n, your job is not going anywhere. Take a day-off and eat with me."

"That day-off is not gonna pay my rent. You can perform right here."

He fakes a laugh. "You're unbelievable."

"You're having so much fun showing it off like that, huh?"

"Why are you trying to do so many things all at once? It's just one day. You're living to work, it's fucking bullshit."

"No, I don't," you grin, "I have sex with you when I get home."

"You're like once... twice..."

"Three times a lady?" You raise a brow and he makes a run towards his red electric guitar.

He positions himself on the couch and you throw a scornful look at him.

And he breaks into a gleeful chorus, "You're once, twice, three times a lady,"

In a happy beat, you break into jumping and hopping around trying to dance to the song. And to him, the moment feels incomparable like the universe wouldn't do such a thing twice. Him singing out of pure joy, and you dancing like the rest of the world isn't there. There's just so much magic in a shutter of a second, that he feels overwhelmed to decode this kind of emotion.

"I love you, yeah, you're once, twice, three times a lady,"

"I love you," you both sang in unison.

"That was good," slumping next to him, "that's what you sound like when you sing."

With your head over the curve of his couch, eyes peering at his, there's not a lot to do but to kiss you as bliss takes over the surface of his thoughts. He thought, 'So, that's what it feels like.' A mixture of vulnerability and protection, with a taste of perfection — like breaking into a kaleidoscope of colors and vibrance.

But he doesn't decide, he discovers it, that you have made home inside his broken heart. And his momma always said, "Love starts with the heart breaking."

Once the engine had stopped purring, and the rain had evaporated into thin air with little traces of its existence, he opened the door for you. For a moment, it felt like youth and security, like it's what he's supposed to do and he's supposed to always watch you walking out of the car door.

"Didn't expect you to open car doors for women."

"I'm offended," he shakes his head before closing the door, "I've been nothing but a gentleman to you."

"Yelling at me for breaking my antenna doesn't scream chivalry."

"Christ, let it go, y/n."

You laugh at his dismissal. Over the course of dinner, many stories were exchanged. For the most part, it was silent. He blames himself for not telling you what he wants to tell you, but he doesn't really know what to say either. It's always just the thought of wanting you like this forever, but it was so wrong.

In the selfish part of him, he wished it was him. That tonight, while you both sip champagne and laugh over some pad thai, he realizes that this is what it could've been and what should've been, and you won't have to be someone else's.

"Your job, you enjoy it? Writing for other people takes a big part of you."

"For some time, I did feel bad but does it pay a lot? It does."

"I don't understand ghostwriting. Really. What a concept. You'd want your art to be a piece of who you are and what you want to say, it shouldn't be something you let other people partake in while they get all the credits."

"Come on, really? You? Talking about what a job gives and takes from the person that you are?"

You drop the utensils on the plate, scoffing at his remark. He giggles his way to a drink, the strawberry shake leaving some foam on the top of his lip.

"Stripping was shit, but I earn the money. No one else gets the credit for my amazing moves."

He chokes on his drink, pure joy rolling from his throat to an actual chuckle from a joke you had just made.

"Amazing moves?"

"Oh," you roll your eyes before taking a bite from the fork, "you just didn't have the opportunity to see me."

He continues to laugh through exhales and sighs as he tries and proceeds to eat without

"What about sculpting? How's that working out for you?"

You cover your mouth, struggling to gulp down the big bite you just had. "So the Japanese lady, Melody, she took different classes back in Tokyo, I think."

He nods.

"And I saw her cute little stall and went to see 'cause I was job-searching. She just looked at me and asked me if I could paint and I said sure. But I sucked at painting, I rely a lot on glaze."

"No, you don't. I really like the colors you use."

"Nah, I think they're dull and soapy."

"You're really good, I swear."

"Whatever you say, Kook. You're still paying for the meal."

He groans in disagreement.

"You know, the songs you write, you should really sing them."

Not this again, he says. As if he hadn't thought of that enough. As if hearing his songs on the radio and not being credited for it doesn't hurt him whenever it happens.

"Right now. Can you write one right now?"

The idea that sparked into your mind takes him away from eating. He goes back to drinking the half-empty glass of water.

"Like what? A song?"

"A riddle," you huff, "of course, a song!"

It wouldn't be hard when all the inspiration he needs is sitting right across him. He asks the waiter for a pen and the next thing you know, he's writing on a tissue paper, in a slanted manner. He'd look at you from time to time as though you were a muse to a painting, modeled into words and rhymes. There's an intricate emotion when an artist looks at you for inspiration, piece by piece you're stitched together by their masterful hands, and that feeling is a different kind of flattering.

He reads his work, breathing in, breathing out, a little nervous with a little doubt.

Your hands clasp together and your cheeks rest upon them.

"What am I now? What am I now?"

"Kook, really? You gotta sing it. It's a song."

"You want a melody right now?" he asks in disbelief.

"Yes."

Though that should've shaken him, he still knew what to do. There was this certain melody that played that night he couldn't forget: the melancholy for a person and the symphony of pain washed away by the loud thunderstorms. And your sobbing as he walked away that he tried his best to forget.

In his failure to forget, he sings that very melody with the song he wrote now. If there's anybody that should listen to it first, it should be you.

What am I now? What am I now?

What if I'm someone I don't want around?

He breaks into a frustrated smile because you were staring.

I'm falling again, I'm falling again, I'm falling

What if I'm down? What if I'm out?

What if I'm someone you won't talk about?

I'm falling again, I'm falling again

He looks at you, ruining the tissue paper as he places the cold drink over it.

I'm falling.

Your eyes twinkle twice before applauding him quietly, trying not to make a scene.

"That is... I almost forgot how good you sound singing."

"Pft," he blushes, lips quivering in hiding the biggest smile of the night.

"I think if you want to say something, you have to say it while people are listening to you. While you can say something, you have to act on it."

"You stole that quote from A Star is Born."

"Well, it's fitting. I don't care. Oh, I have a secret to tell you."

You lean in to his ear, closing the gap between you two that is the white table, "I think you're a songwriter."

Giggling, you went back to your seat.

"I am a songwriter."

"No, you're ghostwriting. It's not the same."

You wave your hands to his face. "I swear to god if I hear those same lyrics in another singer's voice, I would go back to New York and look for you, and I'm gonna kick you in the balls."

He almost forgot you weren't gonna be here forever. Tonight, you'll leave and that ends the story of you two. Like he promised himself this noon. He'll let it end here and everything he feels about you will sleep tonight and never wake up.

"It's already dark. Could you believe it? How time flies these days."

"Yeah," he agrees. "But New York is more alive when the night falls."

Your expression was unreadable.

"Wait, were you trying to tell me you should be going home?" he adds.

"No. Do you want me to?"

"I was... I was planning to show you Times Square. But if you need to go home, I can drive you."

You shake your head and the next thing he knows are the lights that flows over your head in the middle of Times Square.

When he bought that ticket thinking you would come, this was how he pictured the moment of both of your arrival in New York.

Exciting. Spontaneous. And boundless.

It's done and it's nearing the end of the book he failed to finish before you came. You're here in Times Square, although a little different in the circumstance he daydreamed of, it still happened. And ain't that the sign of conclusion? A dream coming true?

"I should've come with you but I was too scared." The thick soles of your shoes make your footsteps echo.

You stop by a food truck, awaiting his cowardly eyes to look up.

"What do you want me to say to that?" His nostril flares a bit but he sighs away from it.

"If I let myself go with you, I don't think I can handle the pain you'll cause me. I was too broken to love you."

His stomach swirls. You loved him too. But he can no longer use that sort of expired reciprocation. It somehow hurts more.

"With the shit my ex and Taehyung did to me and how miserable I turned out, I don't know what I would do to myself if you hurt me. I don't think I'm capable of that."

"But why now? Why him? What difference does it make?"

"Because I didn't think he could hurt me as much as you would have."

"You can't keep doing that."

"What?"

"Lying to yourself. What? You're just not gonna let yourself be happy because you're afraid that once that happiness stops, you're gonna go back to that slump life you had? Or worse?"

Your lips quiver. "I don't know." Your shoulders rise. "I don't know. I don't know if you're right or wrong."

"You can't keep running away from what you deserve, y/n."

"And what do I deserve?" You huff with a hint of a sarcastic laugh. "You?"

"Happiness. The kind where you don't lie to yourself... or anyone."

You purse your lips together, unable to form a coherent response.

"Let's go," he adds. "I think we should go home."

A McDonald's ad comes on the big screen and the yellow light flickers above you two as the two of you walk to the car that will later separate the both of you.

In hellos come goodbyes. Jungkook, as he arrives at the lamp post where you asked him to stop, realizes that today didn't need the perfect ending. Whatever it was — the sound of your belt unbuckling or the sound of the car door opening — it just felt enough. Some goodbyes aren't perfect, some are enough.

"Hey," he says rolling down the window.

You turn back, confused. "Huh?"

He takes a moment to say something. "I just wanted to take another look at you."

A wide grin shows up on your face. Your index is automatically winding up against the shape of your nose. And you turn around again, leaving him behind.

The night doesn't end in the said separation but in the beginning of a morning that seemed different than the rest.

As he pours milk over his cereal, Jungkook thinks of what you said and he makes a call he never thought he would again.

"Can we meet?"

And that voice, so remarkably deep, answers.

"Of course," replies Namjoon.

9 months later.

The summer heat burns his skin as he exits the van. It's crowded during the morning in New York and the city deafens his ears as much as exhaust him. Today was tiresome and it has barely begun. He rolls his eyes at the sight of Angela laughing by the food truck.

"Hey," he exclaims, "where's my drink?"

"Calm down, bonehead. Why are you so worked up?" The girl with the thick eyeliner gives him the soda.

"Because she's ten minutes late. Again."

"What exactly does she do for the band? Oh, right. Nothing."

"She brings the clothes? She dresses the team?"

"And guess what? All of you still look like idiots."

"You're the worst assistant ever, you know that?"

"I'm very aware." She gives a mischievous grin before taking a sip from her diet coke.

He watches the rest of the group from outside prepare their instruments. There was Francis tuning his guitar, Namjoon mixing the speakers, and Roi playing subtle beats with the drums. Out front, some staff members of the bar are decorating the posters, their posters. 'Mikrokosmos' it says in ransom font.

"Hey," he nudges Angela, making her almost spill her drink. "Where's Veronica?"

"Veronica? Oh... the pianist." She laughs at herself. "She ate out. She said she wants chinese for breakfast."

He finally opens the can and takes a sip. "I thought she's ditching."

"Why are you so worked up today?"

"I'm not worked up."

"Sure, there will be cameras this time around, but your band will still suck balls either way."

He dismisses her comment before she gets on his nerves. Instead, he focuses on the posters. They were there standing in it with a cliché stern pose for a band picture. Everything was perfect and organized, it's going quite as he planned months before. Credit should be given where it's due, and he knows exactly when all this began again.

The place gets packed as it gets darker, with the cameras, people from outside are intrigued. So it went on, until it was full and loud and busy. Until he couldn't remember a face anymore or decipher a single conversation.

Before the show starts, he takes a glance behind him, Namjoon gives him the cue. And it starts, the warm strumming of the guitar by Francis. For once in the room, it was quiet.

Like the world was finally hearing him and it was going to listen.

Please, don't see

Just a boy caught up in dreams and fantasies

Please, see me

Reaching out for someone I can't see

Roi begins to hit the hi-hats gently.

Take my hand

Let's see where we wake up tomorrow

Best laid plans

Sometimes are just a one night stand

I'll be damned

Cupid's demanding back his arrow

So let's get drunk on our tears

The strings start, something that Namjoon had composed in his laptop.

Jungkook turns to Angela who nods and gives an approving smile. Something she'd never done.

And, God, tell us the reason

Youth is wasted on the young

It's hunting season and the lambs are on the run

Searching for meaning

But are we all lost stars?

When he closes his eyes from the blinding glare of the lighting that was focused right in front of him, he loosens as he tightens the grip on the microphone.

He thinks of when he met Namjoon for the first time during college. It was the sight of him making music then that gave this direct path to where he is now.

Trying to light up the dark?

Who are we?

Just a speck of dust within the galaxy

Woe is me

He thinks of when he went with him. And Namjoon taught him that there are so many things you can be and on top of that is being happy.

He smiles into the microphone.

If we're not careful turns into reality

Don't you dare let our best memories bring you sorrow

Yesterday I saw a lion kiss a deer

He opens his lids slowly and under the wind chimes was you, lost in the music and found in the crowd. Your arms carefully folded against your chest until you gave him a wave.

You were mouthing a sentence through a beam, and although he couldn't understand, he felt relieved.

Turn the page

Maybe we'll find a brand new ending

He had that familiar conviction that life was beginning over again with the summer. All at once, you two were in that same place again, under the single shed of light, that hope was never banished, but only replenished.

#jungkook #jungkook fic #smut #bts fic #bts imagine #taehyung fic #jimin #namjoon #yoongi #jjk #au #jin #bts au #jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #hoseok #jhope #bts

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peanut4138 · 2 years

Text

"When the last living thing dies, my job will be finished. I'll put the chairs on the tables, turn out the lights and lock the universe behind me when I leave."

When the endless started to fade they finally all joined forces together. Together they let the human race know what would happen if the endless were to die out. They wanted to restore the desire, the dreams, the destruction and despair, the destiny, the death, and the delirium. The way the human world should be. Not some shell of its former self. For years the humans haven’t made any advancements, no one dreamed and no one wanted. No one cried and no one destroyed. It was like the world was in a state of apathy. The only thing out there that could make them come to a complete standstill. Desire was the first to notice what was going on. Being the only entity to have their feet dipped into every mortal emotion they felt the shift.

No one, not even their twin, listened to them when they tried to alert everyone. It was only when the dreaming started to fade that anyone listened. Desire was bitter that their big brother was seen as the most important thing. They secluded themselves to their realm as all the others acted like chickens with their heads cut off.

Despair tried to reason with them. They didn’t listen. They didn’t listen to anyone. There was only one person that they would’ve listened to. Lucifer. Lucifer understood what was going on the second not another soul was damned to hell. When the Winchesters quit hunting. When hell was colder than usual.

Desire and Lucifer went to Earth’s surface. They saw the true state of everything. Nature was taking over everything. Houses were covered in vines to the point of exiting and entering would be nearly impossible. Cars were the home of wild animals. Dogs became wild; almost as wild as their wolf cousins. Cats became feral. Deer weren’t afraid to roam.

They both agreed that it’s even worse than they thought. Nothing was right. This wasn’t how human civilization was supposed to be. Humans should be moving. There should be some sound of human life.

Desire and Lucifer walk into one of the houses. There they find the humans sitting around the TV. No one has made or done anything in a long enough time that it was just static.

"This is really fucking eery." Lucifer said, waving a hand in front of one of the humans.

"I agree. This is really creepy." I walked around the room seeing the amount of dust that had accumulated on the surfaces.

"What are we going to do about this Desire? What's causing this?"

"I don't know. I don't think any of us will know. It just might be the end for them. It might be time we lock this world behind us and start a new one."

Luci looked at me with a sorrowful look on his face. "Which means I have to go too, don't I? Everything on the plane can't travel. You and your siblings are the only ones that can."

I placed a hand on Lucifer's cheek and gently kissed the other. "If this is the case of shutting all of you behind us, I will find a way for you to come back to us. Even though I've seen the fall of many civilizations and realms, this is the only one I've ever had any attraction to."

Lucifer wrapped his arms around me in a hug. "I'm going to miss you brother-sister."

As we let each other go my siblings showed up behind me.

Despair laid a hand on my shoulder. "It's time to go."

Lucifer gave me one last smile. A true smile. They started to fade away along with the rest of the world around them.

As each particle of life disappeared I felt every little piece that I had my hands in. There were pieces I was proud of and those hurt to see fade away.

Lucifer gave me a one last parting gesture of wrapping themselves around my heart.

"I'll never forget you." I whispered in my native tongue. "That's a promise I will always keep."

Finally, at last, the final particle faded away. The end of humanity has come to an end. None of us know what will happen next. None of us will know who the next race of people will be. But, after all, it is how things have to be. At least that's what I tell myself.

Please comment what you think. Title is a direct quote from Death herself. It was the best way to give a summary and a title in one.

#desire sandman #lucifer morningstar #the sandman #despair sandman #end of the fucking world #fading away #death sandman

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barbika1508 · 2 years

Text

An honest breakup (Kim Taehyung x Reader/ Breakup)

Word Count: 1,5k

Genre: Angst, Breakup

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Reader

Authors Note: Short story I’ve got inspired by a quote I found on Pinterest, which I’ve channelled my emotions through, angst is always easy to write. We are all heartbroken by life after all, some more some less.

Inspiration: ‘’I was doing fine. Really, and then you waltz back in like you didn’t break my heart.’’

‘’I was doing fine. Really, and then you waltz back in like you didn’t break my heart.’’

No reply. He keeps staring at me with those big pleading puppy eyes, my words etching themselves into his heart. I can’t bring it in myself to really care, to be upset about it. Given he ripped my heart out, chewed, and spat it out leaving me to grovel until he walked away shattering me whole.

‘’Whatever you are expecting to happen, is not going to.’’ I find my voice again in the quiet of Hoseok’s apartment, my friend ahem…ex-friend. We were supposed to be close, a brother sister bond. Not anymore.

He lured me to his place under the pretence of needing help with some bullshit excuse about his computer not working, ending up leaving me alone with the one person I’ve told him many, many times I’ve never want to see in life ever again.

‘’I know I’m not deserving of your forgiveness…’’ he begins cautiously bringing a smirk to draw itself upon my lips this entire situation I’m finding myself in feeling like a bad dream. The fact that he doesn’t finish his sentence is because he is testing me. He’s watching and observing every facial expression I’m making; every move of my body even the lull from one foot to another.

‘’You are not.’’ I confirm through a cruel amused smile the slight twitch in his eyebrow an indicator he’s not satisfied with where this conversation is going.

‘’I’ve left in very bad circumstances. It wasn’t right it wasn’t moral, the way I treated you wasn’t in the slightest alright.’’ he pauses as if to let me gauge in his words that to my ears don’t feel heartfelt even remotely ‘’I’ve broken most of the promises I’ve made you, and for that I’m going to repent until the day I die, Y/N-ah.’’

Damn him for looking so handsome after all this time, standing across me wearing a turtleneck, a grey suit building his frame nicely, long hair framing his perfect features eyes like hawks remain trained onto me. He was handsome even when he was lanky as a teen, boxy smile’s charming to no end, idea’s ridiculous as we played as kids having the time of our lives. He was loving, caring when growing up, the promise of getting married, having kids, dying together something that felt was my destiny.

‘’You deserved so much better than I could have given.’’ his voice wavers, the fleeting look towards the window showing how much he is close to shed a tear as he shifts showing nerves. I’ve never seen Taehyung do this even in sticky situations, on bad days he always got out of them with positivity - tried too at least. His body smile was a constant, a promise of better days silver tongue not running out of words. The cracks he’s showing now, are a new side to the man I once thought was my world.

In the deafening silence the sound of clapping is brutal to the ears and yet I continue, his blinking eyes turning looking like a deer caught in headlight, bafflement genuine.

‘’Well, played.’’ I congratulate genuinely impressed with his acting ‘’Could’ve fooled anyone else.’’ I stop the clapping to shoot him with finger guns as I shift my stance, my feet alighted with my shoulder’s while I push my hands into the front pockets of the black jean’s I’ve put on today.

Taehyung continues staring keeping up the puppy look which in the past could have gotten me in seconds and yet here we are. Handsomeness, charisma, sweet words all bouncing off me.

‘’Charming.’’ I quirk an eyebrow licking over my lower lip his eyes following the movement ‘’Unfortunately not to me.’’ I shrug for good measure ‘’Plead, beg, apologize all you want I’m not the right person for it.’’

‘’Y/N-ah you are the only one…’’

I am quick to raise my hand the step he makes as in to come closer, halting as I shake my head, readjusting my own stance to back away. It’s weird how emotions work, even now as I’m numb to his advances his goal clear, my answer obvious my feet remain planted on the ground, and not putting him behind me, which is the most logical thing to do, to walk away.

‘’What do you want from me Taehyung-ssi?’’ the flinch on his face as I address him formally brings a small victory to flare inside me ‘’I don’t understand why? Why now?! Forget what you did, I don’t care about that bullshit. Why this?!’’ I frown in disgust genuinely feeling it, the man who once was the only reason I’ve lived day after day now being something twisted and malicious in almost every aspect.

‘’I needed to see you.’’ Is his response, emotions that were erupting before having dispelled into thin air, as he finally gets serious not putting an act, his stone exterior shining through.

‘’And?!’’ I press narrowing my eyes, the fact that he looks downwards showing his real emotions and nerves this time.

‘’Bridges after they get burned, destroyed or collapse, they can get rebuilt again.’’ His example makes me almost laugh out loud and the way he is carrying himself tells a lot. Huh.

I nod agreeing to the example, shaking my head at the end intaking a breath clicking my tongue ‘’Its…’’

‘’Please tell me there’s a slim chance we can rebuild something.’’ he’s quick to stop me making his intention clear ‘’Anything literally anything Y/N-ah, please. We’ve grown up together, we’ve been each other's firsts in everything. We planned to live and die together, please don’t tell me it’s all gone. That you don’t feel anything, that-that you...ammm…’’ lost for words and the glossiness in his eyes have me pausing but only for a second.

‘’Honestly…’’ I begin trying to pick my words ‘’There’s nothing left.’’ I look straight into his eyes feeling no remorse ‘’You’ve made sure of that.’’ I lift my hands in surrender ‘’No point on begging or trying to dig up the past because it doesn’t hold meaning to me. I’m fine without you.’’ the smile persistently comes back as I grin, his disappointment not exactly enjoyable.

‘’What - how did it come this far Y/N-ah?’’ The shift in tactics is notable as the vulnerability gets pushed back, something else settling in his bones. It’s noticeable in the way he takes another step closer and straightens his posture ‘’You don’t want me to sugar coat this fine. I won’t. I’m still in love with you.’’ Not at all surprised at his statement I again narrow my eyes biting onto my lower lip to keep myself back in a sense ‘’I tried moving on, tried to distract myself, bury myself in work, anything at all and yet, here I am. Grovelling at your feet for any bread crumb which you...do you hate me that much, princess?’’

The nickname raises some irritation to spark in my chest. But keeping myself grounded and neutral, numb for the most part leaves me unresponsive, something I know he despises.

‘’I don’t believe you do.’’ he states, making me let out a laugh at his blatant denial.

‘’Believe whatever you want Taehyung-ssi.’’ I sigh feeling tired of this circle we seem to be running ‘’Whatever you want from me, you don’t deserve even a tincy tiny measly breadcrumb.’’ I take a step away from him ‘’You killed me.’’ his eyes widen the slightest as he stares after me as I take another step towards the front doors ‘’That night when you left, you murdered that part of me. You don’t get to regret your actions; you don’t get to ask for anything because I owe you nothing. You have taken my soul.’’ I pause his expression stone cold as if he’s angry ‘’So keep it. Keep those broken pieces all you want because I’m out.’’

‘’Don’t leave...me.’’ he calls out as soon as I turn my back on him. Having found strength, I keep walking to the door, hand on the handle until I turn back to look at one of the most handsome men in Korea. See how light dims from his eyes, hope vanishing, his dreams resting in my hands.

‘’Funny.’’ I pause ‘’Those exact words were the last ones I’ve spoken to you.’’ I run my tongue between my parted teeth, the realization catching him off guard as his breathing becomes hard in the silence ‘’Goodbye stranger. Wish to see you never again.’’

Okay a tad bit too dramatic to say but I can’t find it in myself to keep up the nice pretences. Pressing onto the handle, the door beeps unlocking and lets me outside, into the narrow corridor. At the very end of it stands none other than Hoseok, his eyes trained on me. I can’t read his expression as he keeps it neutral, seeing him doing anything else than smiling odd.

And yet the situation would bring only worry if he smiled.

Walking forth I don’t even grant him a glance or acknowledgement. I’m used to getting disappointed by people, so cutting him off even though it weighs on my heart needs to happen.

It's long overdue the need to take care of ourselves first, instead of putting others on pedestals. It’s time to breathe easy without heavy weights keeping us down.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------- Masterlist / Ao3

#bts taehyung x reader #taehyung x reader #bts fanfction #bts fanfic #kim taehyung x you #kim taehyung x reader #taehyung x y/n #breakup

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fruitcoops · 3 years

Note

Hi Eve! Just wondering if you could write a coops smut where one of them wears lingerie? You sort of explored the concept in the Valentines Day smut where Sirius wore thigh highs, but i was maybe thinking a fic where one of them wears a full set. Its all completely up to you!

How about both? Happy smutty Monday, folks! Coops credit goes to @lumosinlove

TW for smut, subspace/ subdrop

It was Friday, and Remus was learning the glory of stockings on hockey thighs.

It was Thursday, and he began to wonder how to repay his lovely fiancé.

It was Sunday, two weeks after Valentine’s Day, and between flashes of thunder outside and damn near howls of pleasure into their traumatized pillows, Remus was still thinking about the socks.

It was Tuesday, a bye week, and the last piece of his plan clicked into place as Sirius hefted him further over the countertop by the muscle of his thigh with one hand keeping his chest flush to the cool marble.

It was Wednesday, and Remus smiled to himself as Sirius snuggled closer in the darkness of a quiet night in. He ran an absentminded hand through inky curls, relishing the soft puffs of Sirius’ breath on the hollow of his throat while their legs remained comfortably tangled. You have no idea what’s coming, he thought, letting his lips linger on Sirius’ forehead. No idea at all.

It was Sunday, and Remus had spent two minutes hyping himself up in the bathroom mirror. The rustling from their bedroom had stopped long before. “Alright, you can do this,” he murmured, leaning his hands on the edge of the sink. “You look hot. This isn’t weird. He’s gonna lose his fucking mind.”

“Mon loup?”

Anxiety leaped in Remus’ stomach. “One second!” he called back through the closed door. He stared at himself for a moment longer, then sighed. It was a stupid idea—there was no way Sirius would want to see him in something as silly as this. He looked ridiculous, and it wasn’t even worth it; any clothing would be off in a heartbeat anyway. Sirius always preferred skin-to-skin contact.

The lacy edge of the garter belt itched the peak of his hip as he blew out a slow breath. Did Remus still dream about Sirius’ thigh highs over a month later? Yes. Did that guarantee Sirius would have a similar reaction to seeing him in actual lingerie? Not necessarily.

Remus liked guarantees. They were safe. Soothing. Unquestionable.

“Are you alright?” Sirius’ voice floated through the door on a wave of concern.

Fuck it. The bathroom lights caught the silver buckles. It’s now or never. “You can’t laugh, okay?” he warned, closing a hand around the knob.

“I won’t. I have a surprise for you, too.”

That bit of curiosity gave him that last push of courage he needed to open the door and step out of the safety of the bathroom. His pulse skyrocketed, though whether it was from the sudden feeling of absolute exposure or the sight of Sirius waiting on their bed in some sort of sheer, lacy top, Remus couldn’t tell. Sirius stared at him, lips slightly parted. Remus cleared his throat and spread his hands. “Surprise?”

“Oh.”

“You look—you look great,” he managed lamely. There were a million better words to describe the lavender fabric cascading over the planes of Sirius’ chest, but his brain had been replaced by the blush prickling up his neck and face. Going for the basic black garter belt and underwear suddenly seemed subpar instead of classically sexy.

Sirius shifted on his knees and reached for him. “Viens ici.”

“It—” Remus faltered. His chest and legs were bare, save for the satiny clasps holding the garters in place on his thighs. Sirius was just staring, like he couldn’t believe his eyes. It had been a long time since he felt self-conscious around Sirius; every bit of missed embarrassment flooded back at once as he sat on the foot of the bed. “I liked your socks on Valentine’s Day, and I figured—I dunno. This is the surprise, by the way.”

“C’mere.” Sirius’ eyes finally flickered up to his face without a trace of judgement.

“I’m here.”

“Here,” Sirius repeated, tugging him over to straddle his lap with an arm around Remus’ waist. He kissed him, soft and slow but undeniably wanting, before he leaned back. “You look so handsome, mon coeur.”

“Yeah?”

“Ouais.” And, god, if Remus didn’t love the way his voice curled around that word, turning it into a million perfectly lazy syllables.

He rolled the hem of Sirius’ top between his fingers and hummed against his mouth. “This is new.”

“You like it?”

“Mhmm.” It was hard to tear his eyes away from the shadow of muscle beneath the delicate fabric.

Mischief flickered over Sirius’ face. “It’s called a ‘babydoll’. Thought you might get a kick out of that.”

“Babydoll for my baby,” Remus teased, kissing his nose with a playful tug to the lace edges. Sirius’ gaze slipped back down to his lap—no, his legs—and his fingers toyed with the seam of the accompanying underwear. Remus placed a light kiss to the shell of his ear, watching every twitch of his hands. “What do you want?”

“To look at you.” There was nothing but honesty when Sirius glanced back to him. The intensity of it sent a spark up Remus’ spine; he had grown so used to Sirius’ general aura of focus that he had nearly forgotten what it felt like wholly directed on him.

“And…?”

“And nothing. Just to look.” Nervousness flickered across his fine features as he settled back against the headboard and pulled Remus with him. “Just for a minute, and then we can do whatever you—”

Remus silenced him with a kiss, bracketing his waist with his palms. The babydoll was like water under his touch, but Sirius was as solid as ever. “This is for you,” he said when they separated. “You can look for as long as you like.”

Except Sirius didn’t only want to look—he wanted to touch. That fact was made clear within seconds, when the hands smoothing up and down Remus’ thighs in rhythmic motions began dipping beneath the straps of his garter belt and sliding up to his narrow hips, then hooked around the backs of his bent knees. Sirius pressed one palm flat over his abs and Remus shivered, trailing his lips down his neck. He wasn’t aroused in the lightning-fast please please I need you now kind of way, but more of an I’m about to float into space if you don’t keep touching me like a treasure buzz.

“Re, honey,” Sirius murmured. It was only then that Remus realized most of his breaths were coming in short pants instead of kisses. The nickname was one of his favorites, reserved for the times when he was well and truly gone; it was more tender than mon coeur, and worlds more intimate than his own name or even sweetheart. He nipped the edge of Sirius’ jaw and felt him gasp.

Remus licked his lips as he pulled away just enough to speak. “D’you want me to take it off?”

“Never.”

He smiled. “It has to come off if you want to fuck me.”

“Deux pièces.” The arm around his lower back tightened as one hand came to rest on his ass, which was still fully covered by lace-lined black fabric. Remus had opted for the ‘boyshort’ choice, as it looked to be the most likely to prevent slippage.

That, and it had fewer strappy bits. The buckles were hard enough to figure out—adding an accidental wedgie into the mix seemed like a poor idea.

“Yeah, but the important piece can only come off if I take the fun one off first,” Remus explained, snapping one of the ties. Sirius stared at it for a long moment before blinking slowly.

“Are you sure?”

“Giving me puppy eyes isn’t going to flip this inside out, babes,” Remus laughed. “Two seconds.”

“But you’ll keep the fun part on, right?” Sirius slid down to lay next to him while he wrestled with the garter belt, hissing curses each time the buckles pinched his fingers. It was, quite possibly, the least sexy thing he had ever done. That did not seem to deter his fiancé—if anything, watching Remus struggle with black satin strips in the dark while laying flat on his back appeared to be the highlight of Sirius’ day.

The fog in his head cleared a bit as he worked his underwear down his thighs, being careful not to mess with the garters too much. It had taken him five full minutes to get the damn things on in the first place, and he wasn’t exactly in the mood to waste another five that could be spent in much more pleasurable ways. “The ‘fun part’—” Remus couldn’t spare a hand to do air quotes, but he hoped Sirius got the gist. “—is a lot more trouble than it’s worth.”

“Nope.”

He paused. “You’re not the one losing a fight to a few scraps of fabric.”

Sirius met his eyes, looking every inch the fallen angel with his hair splayed over the pillow and his lavender whatever-the-hell-glory pooling at his mid-chest. “Do you want me to take it off for you?”

“I thought you wanted the fun part to stay on.”

“Here.” Remus barely managed to kick the underwear off his ankles before Sirius shuffled over to lay between his thighs and attach his mouth just beneath the left garter.

“Oh, fuck me,” Remus huffed, letting his head fall back against the pillows.

“Gimme a minute,” Sirius said into his skin while he licked a stripe up to the first buckle and carefully pulled it down to hook into its proper place. Remus arched his back, only to be pushed down a moment later as Sirius electrified patches of skin he didn’t even know he had. Teeth slipped along the curve of his muscle and nibbled just above the back of his knee; Remus clenched his hands in the sheets with a shuddering inhale and tried his best to keep his wits about him.

By the time Sirius moved on to his other thigh, he was a goner. He could practically feel his pulse through his dick and the fog had returned with a vengeance, blurring the world at the edges while he let go of the tension in his back. How could he possibly be stressed when Sirius was saying such pretty things? The warmth of lips on his thighs disappeared and he stretched his arms above his head, relishing in his own contentment and Sirius’ light laugh. “You’re lovely,” he mumbled. Really, it was the only appropriate word for the occasion.

There was a rustling sound next to him, but Remus didn’t bother paying attention to what it was—Sirius’ weight all around him was more than enough to occupy—

“Oh.” His eyes flashed open as a lube-slick finger pushed into him to the first knuckle. “Oh.”

“Were you listening?” Sirius sounded faintly amused. Remus smiled lazily; he must have missed a joke (or a warning) somewhere in the tumble of words from that lovely pout. He rocked his hips onto Sirius’ finger, stretching one leg out as the other remained bent and tilted away. It was only kept in place by Sirius’ free hand, but even the idea of being held sent a tingling feeling all the way to his toes.

“How many?” Remus asked, looping his arms under Sirius’ to pull him closer. He needed warmth, and the smooth familiarity of Sirius’s chest against his own. He needed the encompassing feeling of being covered, which had yet to fade, no matter how much more muscle he gained.

Sirius smiled into the side of his neck. “Two.”

“Really?”

“Mhmm. Are you still with me?”

“Sure.” The world zoomed back into 3D focus when Sirius’ fingers brushed his sweet spot and Remus gripped his shoulder blades with a hitch of breath—his free leg jerked inward at the sudden shift. “There. There, now.”

“I have other plans, sweetheart.”

“Now,” Remus insisted. He would give Sirius anything he wanted if it meant he could feel that thrill again. Their bedroom was dim, but the lights popping at the corners of his vision as Sirius closed a hand around his shaft and continued sliding two fingers into him were so very bright. Remus moved his hands down from Sirius’ shoulders to his hips, then lower to give him a hint. “Now?”

“I was going to do three—”

“Now,” Remus said, brooking no room for argument. He pushed Sirius’ chest until he rolled onto his back—bless the man for his quick thinking skills, because Remus’ new muscle still wasn’t enough to manhandle him properly—and settled himself into his previous position on Sirius’ lap.

A dark eyebrow arched, though his dilated pupils gave away Sirius’ true feelings. “Like this?”

“You said you wanted to look, didn’t you?” Thinking back, Remus couldn’t imagine how he could ever have been worried about this. He took a few deep breaths as he sank down, biting hard on his lip against the dizzy want prodding the edges of his mind. This needed to last. Sirius’ mouth was cherry red and wet when he glanced down, fully seated and feeling rather confident about the whole thing. “Then look.”

The first rock of his hips brought a whimper from plush lips and Remus grinned; he took Sirius’ hands and planted them on his thighs before bracing his own against the broad planes of his chest. Silky fabric parted under his palms and his smile widened into giddiness as he slid his hands beneath it to rest on warm skin. Sirius pushed the side of his face into the pillow with a huff of breath.

“No,” Remus panted as he continued to move, pulling Sirius’ chin back up. His hands were shaking when he cupped his face. “Look. L—look at me.”

Sirius’ brows pitched and his silver gaze flickered down to the garter belt; Remus let his head fall back as long fingers toyed with the straps, sometimes tugging gently, sometimes snapping fireworks through his legs. The power shift between them ebbed and flowed like the tide. He wanted a tsunami.

He worked the words around in his mouth for a moment, unsure of how to ask for what he wanted. One of Sirius’ hands traveled to his back and began moving in steady presses up and down his spine. “Fuck me,” Remus pleaded.

A synchronized roll of their hips made them both moan. “I am,” Sirius said breathlessly.

Remus licked his lips and made a valiant effort to get air back into his lungs. “Please.”

His expression must have made the message clear enough, because understanding rippled across the puzzlement on Sirius’ face in mere moments; with a firm squeeze, Remus’ hips stopped cold. Mistake, his brain thought immediately as Sirius’ dick rested directly on his prostate. Mistake, mistake, keep moving or you’re gonna—

“Remus.”

The whine that tore from his mouth would have been embarrassing if he had any self-conscious braincells left to spare. He bit his lip again, teetering on a knife’s edge while his thighs shook and his knees slid on the sheets.

“Deep breaths.”

One.

“One more for me.”

Two. He was wheezing slightly with the effort of keeping down his moans.

“Try again.”

A frustrated grumble built in his chest, but he obliged. Three. The air was warm and smelled like Sirius; it was intoxicating. His next breath was even deeper, and he let it fill him.

“Good job.”

Something in Remus perked its ears up and he managed a lopsided smile, blinking his eyes open to look down at Sirius. His face was still soft, but his eyes had a tarnished edge to them that sent a shiver down Remus’ spine and nearly undid all his hard work.

“Color?”

He didn’t hesitate. “Green.”

“Are you slipping?”

Slipping, slipped, gone for good, he thought. “Mhmm.”

Sirius laid him back down, catching himself from sliding out at the last second. Remus arched his back at the slow press in. “How do you want it?”

“I already told you twice,” he said, planting a kiss to Sirius’ upper lip. The warm touch around his thighs had not faltered yet. “Come on, Captain, you know what I want.”

Sirius positioned his legs to wrap around his waist and kissed him fully, stealing the breath from Remus’ body in one fell swoop as he began to move his hips again; the pace increased so steadily that Remus nearly lost himself in it. The lace of the garter belt no longer itched, but slid in a blissful rhythm instead. The bits of cold where the small buckles rubbed against his skin were a mind-melting contrast to the cocoon of warmth he sank into.

“M—” Remus didn’t even get the word out before Sirius gave him a hard thrust and pressed their tangled fingers further into the mattress. He muffled a shout into the dip of his shoulder and sucked a mark there between moans. “Oh, fuck, Sirius.”

His head was spinning with the mixture of sensations—he had been so focused on being full that he almost forgot about the hand still moving terribly slow along his shaft. One leg kicked out on its own accord and he twitched, one hip canting upward until Sirius held it back down without breaking stride. Remus’ breaths were little more than staccato moans; he knew bringing out Sirius’ dominant side was an easy switch to flip, but he hadn’t been expecting the change to be quite so sudden. Not that he was complaining, of course.

Sirius let go of his hand to drag his leg back up, fingertips digging in just below the garter as the new angle drew a desperate ‘holy shit’ from Remus and a squeak of protest from their bedsprings. He had forgotten how long it had been since Sirius truly railed his lights out—the tingling sensation racing through his thighs and up to his chest was a welcome companion.

And he began to laugh.

Breathless and practically hiccups, but a laugh all the same. He could see Sirius’ confusion in his mind’s eye despite the fact that he had given up on trying to keep his eyes open several thrusts prior. The movement slowed. “What?” Sirius asked. “What’s so funny?”

“I fucking love you,” Remus said between gasps.

“Why are you laughing?”

“I don’t know.” Something warm slid down his cheek. “It’s so good and I can’t—I don’t know. Keep moving, please, please.”

Sirius’ thumb swiped across his cheekbone and he picked up the pace again; Remus’ shocked laughter faded back into panting and babbling within a few seconds, but the pure elation didn’t slip until he felt his orgasm approaching and resorted to leaving a trail of sloppy kisses along the line of Sirius’ collarbone and neck. Sirius liked his mouth, liked feeling it on him, and Remus could tell that he was getting close by the heat building under his palms where he struggled to find a handhold.

“I l—I lo—I love you,” he managed, adding a love bite to his collection around a groan. They were both sweaty messes, but the salt on his lips was exactly what he wanted.

“I love you, too.” Sirius’ voice was just as labored as his own, buzzing against every pleasure center Remus had.

“I lo—” He broke off with a strangled shout as Sirius squeezed the sensitive part of his thigh at the same time as a thrust. There was nowhere for his mouth to go. He bit down hard on instinct.

Sirius hissed in pain and Remus immediately pulled away, feeling frantic and worried and awful. “Ow.”

“ ‘m sorry,” he said, still a little wild as he covered Sirius’ cheek in apologetic kisses and searched for a hand to hold. “ ‘m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I promise.”

“It’s okay,” Sirius assured him, soothing his hands as they skimmed across his body. “Just surprised me.”

“Didn’t mean to hurt you.” Horror tried to push in around the tangle of joy-want-need-more, but there simply wasn’t room. Remus settled for running his trembling fingers through Sirius’ hair and kissing him gently. He hoped it would be enough.

“You didn’t hurt me,” Sirius said against his lips, rubbing circles with his thumb in the crease of Remus’ hip and thigh. The whirlwind in his head calmed to tv static—the world tunneled to them and their bed. Remus buried his face in Sirius’ neck and slid deep under.

He registered the pressure of Sirius’ hands and the feeling of his own throat pouring out nonsense; he felt his muscles clench and the slide of satin on sweaty skin before balling his fists so tight in Sirius’ babydoll top that it nearly tore. He heard his own breaths become shallow, knew it was Sirius’ hand running along the crown of his dick, and finally, finally shuddered apart with a hitching whine.

“Re, honey.”

Remus sighed through his nose and held him close. He was beyond comfortable, if not a little sticky. Again, his body suggested.

No, his brain answered immediately.

Yes.

No.

Yes.

No.

“I can’t,” Remus slurred.

Lips pressed against the corner of his mouth. “What can’t you do?”

“Go again.”

He felt laughter from the weight above him—Sirius, his brain supplied with a happy fizz down his back—and let his legs be pulled back down to the mattress. “Yeah, not a chance.”

The warmth inside him slipped away and he winced. “Put it back.”

“Nope.”

“Why?”

“Cause we’re definitely done.” The laughter returned, bright as a summer day, and he rubbed his face in the hollow of angular collarbones where the vibration was strongest. “How are you feeling?”

“Noodle.”

“Okay, sweetheart.”

Remus closed his eyes and stifled a yawn; the world could wait until he was done with his nap.

“Hey.” Someone tapped his hip and he frowned. “No falling asleep yet.”

“I’m tired.”

“I know, but we need water and a shower.”

Remus squirmed around until he could fix Sirius with a look. “Can’t stand up.”

“You hate sleeping while you’re sweaty.”

Fair point. Remus became suddenly and harshly aware of how sticky he was and pulled a face, flexing his fingers on Sirius’ back. The high was softening; he felt more settled in himself already. He nudged Sirius until he laid down, then curled into his ribs with an arm and a leg slung over his body. The aftershocks raced in pops of lightning down his legs. “Teddy bear.”

“Hmm?”

“Teddy bear,” he repeated. “ ’s all you are, at the end of the day. I love it. I love you.”

Sirius pulled him closer and kissed his temple. “How are you feeling?”

“Better.” He stretched all four limbs and felt his elbow pop, then relaxed. “Much better. Alright, I need to get this thing off.”

If trying to put the garter belt on had been difficult, it was nothing compared to forcing his unsteady and sweat-slick fingers to get it off. “Do you need some help?” Sirius asked, amused.

“No.”

He struggled for a moment longer, spoiling the sweetness of the drop with frustration, before Sirius’ hands replaced his own and carefully untied each strap so he could get it off properly. “There you go.”

Remus kicked it to the floor and glared balefully at it. “I love you, but I’m never wearing that again.”

“Never?”

“Maybe one more time,” he conceded. The confidence boost had been dizzying. “As long as you keep this.”

Sirius looked down at where Remus’ fingers were tugging with the hem of his slip. “I really like it, too.”

“The color’s nice.”

“C’mere.” Sirius wrapped his other arm around Remus’ shoulders and drew him in for a snuggle, rubbing his back with one hand. “Let me know when I can get us some water, okay?”

“You can go, if you need to.”

“Really?”

He hesitated, then moved his head to rest above Sirius’ heartbeat. “No.”

“D’accord.” Sirius kissed his forehead again.

Remus lasted three minutes before he couldn’t stand the tacky feeling of the lube any longer, but those three minutes were the coziest he could remember. Sirius was warm and traced patterns over his bare skin; his soft lips decorated Remus’ face, simultaneously lulling him and keeping him from falling asleep. With a sigh, he detached his arms. “Okay.”

“I’ll be right back,” Sirius promised. The room was darker without him—the bed stayed warm. Remus scooted over into the indent he left and basked in the memory, cataloguing his aches. Abs? Sore. Arms? Still good. Thighs? A bit chafed from lace, but alright. Neck? Scattered with love bites he couldn’t recall receiving, though that was a fairly common occurrence.

“That was quick,” he mumbled when the other side of the mattress dipped.

Sirius shrugged. The babydoll shift was tragically absent. “The usual two minutes, actually.”

“Must have zoned out,” he hummed, leaning into the cool washcloth on his face. A few tears always slipped out when they dipped into rougher territory, though he never felt sad. It was just…overwhelming, in the best way.

Sirius cleaned his thighs with the same careful touch as his face before handing him a cup of water. “Are you hungry?”

“Nope.” Remus downed the glass in two gulps and opened his arms. “Bedtime.”

“No pajamas?” Sirius asked with a laugh, though he obliged and let Remus laminate himself to his side.

“Unnecessary.”

“No shower?”

His instinctive response was god no, cuddles take precedence and I’m dead on my feet, but a shower did sound nice. Sirius washing his hair, scrubbing the last bits of shakiness and his drop away, going to bed clean…

“Alright,” he agreed grudgingly. “We’re probably going to need to change the sheets, too.”

“That can wait until we’re done.” And before he could even attempt to stand on his own, Sirius gathered him into his arms and hoisted him off the bed. If he wasn’t afraid he’d fall flat on his face without help, Remus would have protested. “Mon dieu, I forgot how muscly you are now.”

“Says the man who can’t stop ogling me whenever I take my shirt off,” Remus teased, then frowned when he saw the purpling bruise on Sirius’ neck. “Holy shit, my dentist could identify me with that thing. Are you sure you’re okay?”

Sirius paused in the bathroom doorway and kissed him hard, stirring the last dregs of arousal in Remus’ gut. “You have blanket permission to do that whenever you like.”

Remus gaped at him, speechless. “Well, that’s not fair,” he managed. “I’m tired.”

“Not a bad way to spend a Sunday night,” Sirius mused. His sneaky squeeze of Remus’ ass did not go unnoticed. “In my personal opinion, of course.”

“Of course,” Remus said drily. Maybe a shower wasn’t the worst idea after all. His knees weren’t nearly sore enough yet.

#remus lupin #sirius black #coops #smut #my fic #fanfic #sweater weather #vaincre #lumosinlove #lingerie #subspace #subdrop

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spencersmagic · 3 years

Text

a knife twists at the thought - SR

Prompt: a knife twists at the thought that i should fall short of the mark - Arctic Monkeys

Summary: Spencer is new to this, and the poor boy is terrified

Couple: Fem! Reader x Spencer Reid (i picture season 2/3 Spencer but y’all do you)

Category: angst

Word count: 3086 words

Warnings: general criminal minds stuff, mentions and descriptions of torture, descriptions of loss, HAPPY ENDING!!, my 3am writing, tooth rotting love, uhmm spoilers for Orwell’s 1984 (if anybody hasn’t read it), humiliation, Spencer crying and breaking my heart (lmk if you need anything warned or trigger tagged).

A/N This is very loosely based on 2x15 (VERY LOOSELY). I’m quite proud of this one :)

masterlist // 505 series taglist

*****

They say you never see it coming.

When a tragedy occurs, and someone’s life is turned upside down forever, they never see it coming. It just... hits them. Like an oncoming car ramming into a bystander who was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

No one has time to prepare. In our time-starved lives, there is no place for such a warning.

One day, you just wake up. And they’re not next to you. They’ve disappeared, leaving the stickiest, most unforgettable parts of themselves behind for others to grieve to: the smell of their shampoo in the pillows they used to share, the seconds just as you wake when you still feel like you have them - only to gain full consciousness and realise they left you behind - even the fucking jars, which never seem to be open because he’s just not there to do it.

And you feel your heart breaking all over again as your soul sticks to the parts that couldn’t be erased with the rest of him as he left. Because you needed him, you had him, and now he’s gone. No warning, no letter, no signs which could’ve helped you foresee such a tragedy, because how could he? He didn’t disappear on purpose.

She doesn’t understand why he's so absent. So unequivocally missing. And the person she would turn to to ask these riddled questions isn’t there to answer. Because he’s gone.

But they’re not there yet.

And she feels so close to that feeling - the helplessness, the pain, the empty cups next to her bed because he always carried them to the sink when she was finished with her tea the mornings of those rare days they got to sleep in. Those days when they had time. She can practically touch, with the tip of her fingertips, the waves of pain that would surge over her if he was gone for one more fucking minute.

She has to remind herself, over and over again, like a mantra. He’s not gone yet.

The “yet” at the end of her mantra just breaks her all over again.

She was always the one to tell Spencer “if you worry before something happens, in case it goes wrong, and then it does, you’ve managed to suffer twice through something painful for absolutely no reason”. It usually worked. Needless to say, she felt like a hypocrite right about now.

Because Spencer is gone. And she doesn’t know how to bring him back.

She knows only to watch the monitor, never once blinking, taking in everything that happened in that damned livestream - every word, every sound, every reference. She can only try to hear anything over the whimpers and sobs her love was letting out as he’s tortured by that man. She can only hear the cracks of his knuckles against Spencers soft skin, the same soft skin she had kissed mere hours ago before telling him to “be careful”. Her own way of saying the three little words the couple was too young to hear. She can only see his lips parting, sobs rumbling out of his body as the unsub abuses his frame over and over again - same lips which had kissed her forehead before telling her “i always am”.

Then again, she isn’t sure if its his voice which is filling her head with painful sounds or if her mind is playing tricks on her, memorising the horrifying vibrations coming from his chest for her to ever consider anything else. She hasn’t stopped hearing him since she turned on that damned computer.

She isn’t sure she’ll ever stop hearing it.

As a man of great intellect, Spencer always recurred to knowledge to understand difficult occurrences in his life. Burying himself in textbooks, novels, poems, and even music to understand pain, and himself having a life filled with it, he was an incredibly knowledgeable man.

He knew much. But right now, he only knew one thing.

In Orwells’ 1984, as Winston was being tortured (much like Spencer is right now), Orwell described the following:

“Never, for any reason on earth, could you wish for an increase of pain. Of pain you could only wish one thing: that it should stop. Nothing in the world was so bad as physical pain. In the face of pain there are no heroes, no heroes”.

And, as a man who had acquired most of his intellect by immersing himself in trivial content in the face of pain, he found himself doing the same thing as the unsub hurt him over and over again, each blow seemingly more painful than the last. As his skin bruised, a causality of his abusers torment, he analysed the seemingly logical quote.

It must depend on the person, he was sure. In fact, a number of factors must be taken into consideration at this statement. For starters, Winston lives in a society incapable of any human feelings. There is only dominance, and those who attempt, in vain, to challenge it. Surely, if he had felt happiness, like the one you feel when the first day of spring rolls around, or like the one that creeps up on you as you look into the eyes of your loved one, surely, he would understand that some things can outweigh pain.

Love.

If Spencer’s mind could make sense of what he was feeling right now, he would understand, something he would figure of were he to leave this damned place, that he was thankful to the Gods, were there any, for having the unsub kidnap him and not Y/N.

Winston hadn’t understood emotional pain because emotions weren’t dealt with regularly. They were discouraged. That’s why he believed that there are no heroes in the face of pain. Because he doesn’t understand emotional pain.

He knew he was suffering. He also knew that Y/N was at the other side of the blinking camera suffering more than he could ever imagine.

They say emotional pain lasts 12 minutes. Anything one feels after this would be the aftermath of the cause of the pain in question. Pure emotional pain, the one you practically feel in your chest, the one that says “i can’t think, feel or be. not until this feeling dissipates”.

She had learned this from Spencer.

And she wished it were true. As she watched that damned monitor, she wished that all the venom the unsub was spewing at Spencer, all the verbal abuse, was long forgotten. She wished he could only feel the physical pain. Because the mind is incredibly stronger than the body - it could keep him awake, alive, for just enough time for the team to rescue him.

The entire team had huddled around the monitor around her. She was painfully aware that other people were seeing this. Which meant it wasn’t her imagination. It wasn’t another one of those damned dreams she would have when she slept a little too far away from Spencer’s touch.

They had only been together for two months, but his touch was all that could get her to fall asleep.

She jolted as the unsub landed another slap on Spencer’s cheek, swiftly grabbing his hair for him to look into the camera. He had a cut above his right cheek, just where she would kiss him in the mornings, and bruises all over his neck, jaw and left eye.

“Say hi to your team!” he mocked Spencer, chuckling darkly as he moved his almost lifeless body around for the team to watch in horror. Spencer let out a heartbreaking sob, feeling so vulnerable.

“Why don’t we make this interesting?” he jumped, as if he had gotten an idea. The unsub reached behind himself to grab a pistol, clicking off the magazine safety to put one bullet in one of the eight slots, leaving the other seven free. He pointed it at Spencer’s temple.

Her entire body shook the thought of seeing Spencer’s lifeless body, held up only by the ropes and that sick man’s grip around his curls. The same curls she grabbed as she kissed his face when she wanted his attention.

“I’m going to ask you some questions...” he said, voice dripping with sickening sweetness as he turned the roulette, “and if i don’t like your answer i’ll pull the trigger! Let God decide what I do with you. Sounds good?”. He wanted to humiliate Spencer.

However, Spencer made the mistake of not answering him. He was quickly reminded as the barrel of the gun pointed right between his eyes, pulling the trigger, a loud bang! sound expanding through the barn.

“I asked you a question!” he suddenly yelled into Spencer’s face.

“Y-yes, Sir” he whimpered, shaking at the ease at which the man pulled the trigger.

“Good, you’re learning”.

She experienced it by bits. Hotch’s hoarse voice. “Talk to me Garcia”. “We’ve got coordinates”. Everybody rushing to the SUVs. Tripping over her own feet on the way to the car. Morgan’s voice. The iPad, which still carried Spencer’s whimpers and the man mocking tone.

“I’ve got your diary, Spence” his sing-song voice didn’t match the disgusting man she was looking at. Nothing made sense.

“And I wanna know why...” he drew out the ‘y’ as he looked for something between the worn pages between his hands.

Of course she knew Spencer owned a diary. But she was mature enough to keep her hands to herself and her eyes on her own pages as he wrote on his, eyebrows creasing as he recalled all which he had experienced during the day. His face would twitch slightly at the memories, both good and bad, as he basically described his day word by word.

“...why did you wait until you were 24 to lose your virginity?” he asked in a clear attempt to humiliate and ridicule Spencer in front of his team.

“I-I didn't-” he could barely finish a word before a sob wrecking through his body at the humiliation, chest rumbling and voice wavering. “I didn’t want to lose it before, i w-wasn’t in a hurry” he rushed out. The man brought the pistol to his own chin, tapping it as he thought. “Hmm... I��m satisfied with your answer. Let’s dig deeper, shall we?” he asked as he went back into the pages.

“ooh! This one is new” that sick bastard was having fun with this, completely unaware that the team was less than 5 minutes away from their location.

“Care to read what you wrote three days ago? Right here” he turned the pages so Spencer could read them, though he was painfully aware of that entry he was talking about. His body shook violently. “P-please. D-don’t ma-make me do t-this” he whimpered, body feeling defeated.

“Wrong answer” the unsub said before pointing a gun at him and pulling the trigger.

A shriek was heard from the iPad. The SUV went silent.

“He’s alive” she whispered, unable to speak up. “He-” she swallowed. “He’s alive. We’re not there, yet” her mantra became a reminder that she hadn’t been quick enough to help him. She had the tools to save him. Every second she had the knowledge to save him and didn’t was another second she remained impotent at the risk of losing the love of her life.

Spencer’s voice spoke from the iPad.

“C-can you at-at leas-st turn off t-the ca-amera?” he said between sobs.

And it hit her.

What hurt him the most wasn’t the memories he had to relieve, but the fact that the rest of the team would have to hear his most intimate thoughts. His deepest secrets.

He could bare the pain. The humiliation? That broke him.

“Aww” the unsub chuckled mockingly, “are you embarrassed?” he said, slouching down to look into his eyes. “Well too fucking bad!” he screamed into his face, spitting with every word he spewed at him. Spencer’s sobs got louder.

“O-okay okay!” Spencer caved, accepting the journal that got shoved into his face.

“Read, pretty boy” the unsub sang. That son of a bitch was having fun.

“We’re two minutes away, Y/N” Hotch said. Maybe it was he sobs, which were barely audible to herself, having accepted them as second nature after all the heartbreak she was experiencing, but Hotch needed her to be okay.

His own heart thumped into his chest, feeling as helpless as he’d ever felt. Seeing a member of his team - someone he was supposed to take care of, someone he was supposed to keep safe - was sobbing as he was physically and emotionally tortured. But he was painfully aware of the feelings Y/N was experiencing. The sheer fear that was running down her veins at the idea of them running out of time.

After a few sobs, Spencer started reading, interrupting himself occasionally with his whimpers:

“It’s been three months. Today, three months, seven hours and forty-six minutes ago, she did what I didn’t have the courage to do. She asked me out. “I’ve been wanting to ask you pretty much since the day i met you” she had said. Those words keep ringing in my head like a beautifully written symphony, intrinsically designed to make me face my deepest fears. Opening my scars one by one, dissecting them and reaching the simple conclusion that i was a coward.

She didn’t say it, but what she meant was “i’ve been waiting for you to do it, but you never did, so i had to”. We wasted time - a time so precious and sacred - because i was a coward.

I’ve never felt like this before. I never understood a love so deep as to move something so stubborn as the human spirit. I’ve read textbook after textbook, and novel after novel, and still I’ve never learned more than with her. But I was a coward. And i wasted her time. I fear that I still am.

A knife twists at the thought that i should fall short of the mark. It’s impossible for me to ever be enough for her”.

Her heart broke at this confession. Even worse at the thought that he wouldn’t’ve told her, instead inhaling fear and exhaling rejection at every breath he took next to her.

“We’re here” she heard Hotch, looking at her. She grabbed a bottle of water and dropped the iPad, not hearing the teams objections at the lack of vest and preparation and ran into the barn.

She isn’t sure if she’ll ever stop hearing his whimpers. As she runs closer, she hears them louder and louder, decorated with sobs and cries, and small, meaningless replies to his abusers’ mocking words.

She kicked the door down, the loud bang booming across the room, only helping in raising Spencer’s sobs as he feared the sound had been the result of a certain trigger being pulled. As she looks at him, she realises just how much pain he’s been put through.

She remembers Orwells words, much like how Spencer had remembered them mere hours ago. And disagrees, wishing over and over, praying to the Gods that she would be the victim of such atrocious abuse. She wished she could take his pain. Morgan joined her at her side mere seconds later, yelling. “FBI! Put the gun down!”.

Spencer used the last bit of energy to lunge forward, hitting the unsubs stomach with his head, successfully getting him on the floor for Morgan to apprehend. Y/N rushed to Spencer’s side, untying him, as his now nonexistent sobs grew louder and louder, not only at the prospect of getting out of that horrible place alive, but also at the knowledge that Y/N had heard what he had so dreadfully recited.

Spencer collapsed into her arms, crying into her in the same way she was crying into him, and she wondered just how to take away all his pain. So they cried into each other, desperately grasping each others hair, skin, clothes, anything that would make them feel like they wouldn’t have to spend another damned second without the company of each other.

Spencer was the first to break the silence.

“I need-” he stopped, coughing. She reached for the bottle of water she had brought with her because she knew he would need it. She always knew what he needed.

He chugged it desperately, stray drops falling down his chin at his eagerness. He took a deep breath trying to steady his lungs.

“I need to get out of here” he choked out.

She grabbed him under the shoulders, careful not to hurt him - not being successful, realising that there wasn’t much of him the man hadn’t hurt. Y/N pulled him out, sitting down on the grass with him. Their legs intertwined, pulling each other impossibly closer. They kissed, over and over again. Not as an act of any sexual relevance, but as a reminder that they had each other in any way, shape or form. That they weren’t out of time.

The team was certain they would stay there, never letting each other go for another minute.

After what felt like seconds in their time-starved little world, she broke the silence, which had only been filled with their own cries and occasional sobs.

“Spence” she grabbed his chin to look into his eyes. They were dull, red and hooded. He was exhausted. “Mhmm?” he let out, looking into hers. She was his solace.

“How could you ever think you were anything but completely and unequivocally enough?” she whispered the words he dreaded.

But as Spencer looked into her eyes he knew, better than he had ever known anything, that he was enough. And she was enough. He realised that which she had known for the past three months (possibly longer). They fit like two marvellous puzzle pieces.

Her hands grabbed his cheeks slowly, as to not hurt or startle him, pulling his forehead into hers. “Baby, I can’t imagine anybody else waking up to me every morning. You’re so much more than enough”, she planted a small kiss on his forehead before resuming her position. “I’ll remind you every day of the rest of my life if that’s what it takes for you to believe it”.

And with their eyes closed, foreheads and noses pressed together and legs tangled between each other, pulling each other close, closer - around grass and voices and his abuser pressed into the hood of a police car, they only felt each other. With their shaky breaths, even shakier voices, fearing any words that would leave them in case they triggered a cascade of tears down their oh so vulnerable cheeks, they were more than enough.

***

I hope y’all liked it!! Feel free to let me know by liking, reblogging, or sending me a message :)

super cool kid taglist: @lady-anon-x @spencerreid-mgg @eoupe @inlovewithbabygirl @galaxydefenderjulia @username2002

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marcnutz · 3 years

Note

request for a dreamnap fic (they start as friends) where they’re playing a game and dream jokes about sapnap having a small dick but sapnap doesn’t react to it other than laughing about it bc he knows he doesn’t and then dream tells sapnap to prove he doesn’t and.... so on the smut begins...

oo fun!

18+, MINORS DNI

Masterlist and Info

Tags: Dream x Sapnap, ~1k words, blowjobs

"God Sap, you know all car guys have small dicks, right?" Dream said as Sapnap showed him the third Miata with holographic wraps. He liked his friend's interests, but damn cars were boring.

Sapnap just laughed at his quip, "Yeah, whatever. Oh, look at this one, they put purple rims on it!"

Dream groaned and fell back against the couch, "Small. Your dick is small."

Sapnap only laughed again and ignored him. He knew his dick wasn't small, and he didn't feel like arguing with Dream.

"What? Oh come on, don't tell me you're that cocky that you won't even react."

"I know my dick isn't small, and I like cars. I don't feel like arguing over something when I know the truth and you don't."

Dream huffed, should he test the waters? He always wanted to know what his best friend had down there, but couldn't find the right time or reason to ask.

"Prove it then."

"What?"

"Prove it. Show me 'the truth'." Dream put air quotes around the last part of his sentence.

"You want me to just whip it out? I'm not hard right now, it won't be in its full glory."

"See, you're making excuses, if you really had goods you would show them instead of pussyfooting around the issue." Dream was pushing it, he knew, but he couldn't pass up this opportunity.

In truth, Dream was well aware that Sapnap was hot. He was bulky and strong, he often caught himself thinking about his younger friend's broad shoulders and soft thighs when he found himself alone in his bed with his hand on his cock.

"You know what?" Sapnap started, standing up putting a hand on his crotch. "Fuck you, man. I will prove it. I'm gonna stand here and jack off in front of you just so I can get hard and show you 'the truth'."

Sapnap unzipped his jeans and pulled them down, standing in just his boxers. His crotch was eye level with Dream, who could see that the boy was already sporting a semi from his own small touches. Dream just gestured at Sapnap to pull his boxers down, trying to act as nonchalant as possible hoping Sapnap wouldn't notice his own growing bulge.

Sapnap grumbled before hooking his thumbs in the elastic of his boxers before pulling them down, exposing himself to Dream.

All Dream could do was stare in awe as Sapnap stood there in all his naked glory. He definitely was not small. In terms of length, he had to be average, but he was thick. Too thick almost.

"Well, are you happy?" Sapnap asked, stroking his cock slightly to keep himself hard. The truth is he was embarrassed as hell. Sapnap had a major crush on his childhood best friend, and it didn't take too much for him to get riled up in front of him. The thought of Dream even looking at him got his blood rushing from his head to his, well, head. Sapnap wished his friend felt the same as him, and glancing down at Dream's crotch, he was shocked to see he was in the same state as himself.

"Dude, are you hard right now?"

Dream flushed red. "Wh-what? No." He stammered.

"I... It's okay if you are..."

"Maybe I am... I don't know... I mean, you weren't lying at least." Dream tried to laugh it off, but it wasn't really working. He kept looking up into Sapnap's eyes, and then straight into his cock.

Sapnap nervously scratched at the scruff on his chin, "Did you, want to do something? To each other I mean..."

Was this real? Was Sapnap really offering to have sex with him right now? All Dream could do was nod, grabbing his friend's hips and pulling his cock towards his lips.

"I want you in my mouth." He said, pushing Sapnap's hand away from his dick and taking it in his own.

Sapnap nodded, and with this confirmation Dream let his tongue roll out of his mouth and lick a stripe up the thick vein on the bottom of Sapnap's dick. He tasted like sweat, soap, and salt. It was amazing.

Dream let the saliva fill up in his mouth before spitting it out onto the head of Sapnap's dick, causing the younger to moan loudly and run his fingers through blond hair.

Dream had enough teasing and wanted to get to the main show. He gave another small lick to Sapnap's red tip before wrapping his lips around it and trying to go down as far as he could. Sapnap's thick cock stretched his lips and was difficult to take.

However, Dream was not one to quit. He opened his throat as much as he could to take as much of Sapnap as he could, using his hand to work the bottom of his shaft.

All this pleasure was too much for Sapnap, and Dream knew it. The inexperienced boy was getting more pleasure than his hand or toys had ever given him, and he was getting closer than he'd like to say. All this was only made worse when Dream reached a hand up to feel up his balls, causing the boy to thrust into Dream's mouth.

The gagging sound Dream let out only encouraged Sapnap more, who began to softly fuck his friend's face, who just sat there and happily lapped at the cock in his mouth, savoring the salty taste of pre-cum in his mouth.

"D-Dream... I'm so close. Hoooly fuuuuck." Sapnap's eyes rolled into the back of his head as he moaned. "Please, can I cum on your face? Please..." He pleaded.

Dream pulled off Sapnap's dick with a pop and stuck his tongue out to rest his dick on it. His hand got faster as he awaited Sapnap's cum.

The scene was almost out of a pornographic film, it was too good to be true for Sapnap, and all he could do was pull his friend's hair as he came all over Dream's face.

Dream tried to get as much of Sapnap's cum in his mouth, both to savor it and to help keep the clean-up to a minimum. However, he ended up getting it all over his face.

Sapnap whimpered lightly at the picture of his best friend covered in his cum with his cock still in his mouth. His head lolled back once he had finished.

"Heh," Dream laughed slightly. "I guess I was wrong."

#dream smut #sapnap smut #mcyt smut #dsmp smut #dreamnap smut #dream x sapnap smut #s thoughts #d thoughts #my writing #h knee #also i like miatas sorry i had dream shade on them #feedback is always appreciated #request #ask #maybe this will post no that i deleted the c word from the lags lmaoo #i might have to repost it tho

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 3 years

Text

Fireworks

Prompt: Okay, I might be a bit late, but in honor of America being, well, America, could I request a Virgil hurt/comfort where he gets freaked out by the fireworks? Love your writing btw - anon

I've been experimenting with shorter form prose and I kinda like it???

Read on Ao3

Warnings: none

Pairings: platonic dlampr

Word Count: 1000

Virgil doesn’t hate the Fourth of July except yes he absolutely fucking does.

No, he’s not gonna do the whole rant, that takes too long, most people who are on Tumblr already know it by heart, we’ve been there, done that, no need to beat a dead horse.

No there isn’t, Remus, put that down.

The point is Virgil likes the Fourth of July not one little bit mostly because it’s gaudy. Come on, the oversaturated red-white-and-blue? Eugh. Princey can pull off red the way he does because he’s Roman and Patton can pull off country-club-dad vibes without trying. Logan doesn’t like the Fourth either so he’s in no danger from that navy getting corrupted by gross displays of patriotic affection. The most they ever get from Logan is his ‘I Voted’ button which is perfect and all they need. Janus is yellow and more on the hating-the-Fourth trend than Virgil is. Solidarity.

Remus just likes the excuse to throw hot dogs and mustard at people. Sure.

Patton likes the Fourth because it’s a good way to spend time as a family, allegedly. It’s not like they have another choice, not with the way everyone wants to get together to celebrate. The man isn’t allowed near the grill. That’s the rule. Which is fine, just distract him enough for the cooking to be over and done with and everything’s fine.

Roman…also doesn’t really like the Fourth, but he does like the excuse to sing. Really loudly. Eh, Princey can actually sing, so it’s fine. And he will come and hide with Virgil in some out-of-the-way corner so they can complain about other people.

Logan gets into political fights.

Yes, you heard that right.

It’s not pretty.

Well, when everyone’s a little tipsier than normal and Virgil can stand to be around people he normally hates just to watch Logan fucking annihilate them, it’s pretty fucking satisfying.

Just dodge the hot dogs and keep Janus from running his mouth too much, that’s the deal.

No, the part he really hates is when it gets dark.

Fireworks are awful. He’ll say it. Sure, from a chemistry and marketing standpoint, they’re great. Fantastic. Continue to exploit the planet for temporary momentary and aesthetic appeal, sure.

He loathes the damn things. They’re so fucking loud.

And you never know exactly when they’re going to go off.

And the whole fucking day is just a lead-up to those fucking things, so if you leave before they happen or while they’re happening, everyone will talk about it. Oh, where’d you go? You missed the best part! Come back, the fireworks are starting, we can’t leave until they’re done. Just stay ‘till the end of the show, it’ll be fine.

No, no he will not.

So when he’s half-heartedly swatted at half a dozen mosquitos and sat down in a chair that had soda spilled onto it and threatens to buckle under his weight—thanks for those additional body issues, you limp cardboard excuse for furniture—he grits his teeth and tries to pull out his headphones as stealthily as he can. He’s learned from having his phones slapped out of his hands, or worse, confiscated, by too many haughty relatives that if he wants to try and protect himself when they start to go off, he’s got to do it carefully.

Not too carefully that his phone dies and his headphones won’t connect, though!

“Shit,” he mutters under his breath, “shit, shit, shit—“

He glances around. No way he’s getting out of here. No way. He’s trapped. He’s stuck. No way out. He’s going to have to stay here. They’re about to go off at any second and he’s stuck, nowhere to go, nothing to do, nothing to distract him—

Of course, he’s overlooked one thing. And that is that nothing happens to him without the others noticing.

So when Roman and Remus start loudly bickering about how hot it is and Roman flounces his way back inside with Remus chasing after him, he misses the look they exchange and the way Roman veers slightly to the left to crash into one of the rudest aunts they have.

He misses the way Logan discreetly pockets the last snack pack for Virgil as he stands, muttering excuses about keeping the twins in line.

He misses the way Janus carefully scoops him up, doing it in a clever way to make it look like Virgil is the one doing the leading as they scoot toward the door.

He misses the way Patton nods as Janus raises an eyebrow, distracting would-be worriers—real and fake—with thank-you’s and well-wishes and promises they won’t remember by morning.

He does remember the soft thud of the car door and the instant muffling of all the noises.

He does remember the way Roman’s hand cards through his hair and guides it to his shoulder, humming a song under his breath as Remus takes his hand and starts playing with it.

He does remember Patton turning the radio on low as Logan begins to navigate them home, Janus behind the wheel as he glances at Virgil in the back seat.

Roman softly asks if he thinks he can make it up the stairs home, helping him to the couch and placing the noise-canceling headphones over his ears. Remus plugs them into the headphone jack and hands the phone to Virgil before tugging Roman to help get the blankets set up.

Logan finds the documentary and they sit, opening his arms to welcome Virgil down with them. Janus and Patton bring the snacks in from the kitchen as Janus curls Virgil’s hand around the snack pack.

As the documentary plays, Virgil leans his head onto Patton’s shoulder and smiles.

He hates the Fourth, he loves his family.

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If you want to be added/taken off the taglist, let me know!

#dragonbabbles #sanders sides #fic #virgil sanders #patton sanders #remus sanders #sympathetic remus #janus sanders #thomas sanders #sympathetic deceit #logan sanders

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frombeyondtheblackhole · 3 years

Text

Hermit DSMP Swap AU: Part 9

Foolish flinched. Qackity’s shouting stopped abruptly. It was warmer (Las Nevadas was surprisingly cold). Foolish slowly opened his eyes. An open grave stood at his feet. His heart jumped into his throat and he stumbled backwards, falling on his back. He stared dumbfounded as a bee flew out from the grave and landed on his knee for a moment before flying away. Quackity was nowhere to be seen.

His breathing slowed and he looked around. He was in a graveyard next to a church. Was he dead? Was this limbo? What had happened? He wasn’t supposed to die… but he had died before. But if he had died just now he still should have had his third life, he should have respawned… maybe he had. Maybe he was still alive… That made more sense. No, wait, he still had all of his stuff, if he had died his inventory should have been empty… Foolish held his head in his hands and stared at the ground.

“You ok there, friend?”

Foolish’s head snapped up. A man with neon green hair stood on the other side of the stone wall surrounding the graveyard. Foolish quickly picked himself up and brushed himself off. “Yeah, I’m fine, I’m fine… um- this may seem like an odd question, but, am I dead?”

The man laughed, “I don’t know, are you? I mean, I assume you're not dead, cause I’m not dead, unless you’re un-dead, if you know what I mean.”

Foolish let out a deep breath he didn’t know he had been holding. “Alright, I’m alive, i'm not dead,” He muttered, staring at the sky.

“You sure you’re fine?” The man asked again, putting air quotes around the ‘fine’. “Cause, you don’t seem fine…”

Foolish shook his head “No, really, don’t worry about me, I was just a bit disoriented, that’s all.”

The man pursed his lips and raised a brow “You asked me if you were dead… not if you had died. Which means you knew there was a chance you might get stuck in a respawn glitch. Have you been messing with server magic?”

“You make that sound like a bad thing.” Foolish scowled and crossed his arms looking down at the man. He wasn’t in his twenty-three foot form but even in this form he stood almost a foot taller than the other man.

The man shook his head “It’s not necessarily a bad thing, just dangerous. I mean, I would be a bit of a hypocrite if I condemned people for messing with server magic.”

Foolish didn’t look impressed. “It’s only dangerous if you don’t know what you’re doing.”

“I mean, I guess.” The man said rubbing the back of his neck as he contemplated Foolish’s words “But no one is stupid enough to mess around long enough to get the practice...” He trailed off as he looked up to see Foolish looking at him with an incredulous look, “Oh.”

Foolish finally relented and his expression softened, “Maybe you're right, I mean, my name is Foolish after all,”

The man chuckled, “Maybe we're both a bit crazy. I’m Joe, Joe Hills. Nice to meet you,” He said, climbing over the low stone wall and reaching out his hand. Foolish smiled and shook it. Joe had a firm grip.

“So you said you have experience with server magic, what can you do?” Foolish asked as the two of them walked out of the graveyard and over to the church. This church was much nicer than church prime. As a builder Foolish could appreciate the detail put into the architecture.

Joe shrugged as he sat down on the steps and leaned back on his elbows looking up at the sky, “I can see better in the dark If I want to. Honestly, I don’t really mess with it much anymore.”

“Why not?” Foolish asked, leaning against the wall.

Joe shrugged but Foolish noticed his grip tighten into a ball. “It wasn’t worth it. A friend of mine got hurt and almost didn’t respawn. Actually, she should be around here somewhere, I wonder where she went?”

---

Cleo stood on a concrete road getting yelled at by an angry man with a scar through his left eye and a blue beanie.

“Who the fuck are you? What the fuck did you do to Foolish? Where is Foolish.”

“Aaa, Foolish is a Zombie!” another man wearing glasses and green suspenders yelled.

Cleo staggered backwards and summoned a sword from her inventory, “Who am I, what about who are you?”

“You better tell me, right fucking now, what the hell you did to Foolish or I’ll-”

“You’ll do what? Don’t try me, I’ll put this sword through your skull I will,” Cleo bluffed.

The man with the scar summoned an axe. “Charlie, go get Purpled, tell him we have an intruder in Las Nevadas.”

The man in green, presumably Charlie, looked at him perplexed “But, Quackity from Las Nevadas, why are we attacking Zombie Foolish?”

“Damn it Charlie, Just get Purpl-”

Cleo didn’t let him finish. A yell ripped from her lungs as she charged him, sword swinging. Quackity startled and blocked with the shaft of his axe. He shoved her off and she staggered back. Cleo dug her heels in swinging the sword like a club. There was a burst of pain, or more like cold (Pain felt different ever since the undeath) as his axe cut into her shoulder. But he was bleeding too. His axe returned to his inventory as he clutched his arm and staggered back. Cleo gripped her sword tighter, breathing hard, her eyes locked on him.

She felt the impact and another burst of cold as an arrow hit her in the chest. Her head snapped up, there was a kid in purple firing arrows from a crossbow as he ran towards them. He was wearing full netheriet.

Cleo turned and ran.

“Stop her, she fucking did something to Foolish!” Quackity shouted. She didn’t stop running as arrows landed about her feet. Down the road through a tunnel and past a stone fortress. Cleo scrambled off the road, over a hill. She could hear them still behind her. Dodging through the hills she was able to shake them by looping back around behind them as they continued on.

Once they were gone she slowed down. She touched a hand to her shoulder. It was throbbing with a dull ache and it felt cold, a deep cold like ice in her veins. She looked down. The arrow was still in her chest. She needed to do something about that.

She was back at the fortress. Cleo slid down the hill, climbing behind the wall and slumped against the stone. She gritted her teeth and pulled the arrow from her chest with a grunt, dropping it in the grass. A golden apple appeared in her hand and she took a bite, the juice tingling in her mouth as the regen and absorption began to take effect.

The throbbing eased a little and the wounds began to close. She looked up and froze. An enderman stared back at her with mismatched eyes. No wait, not an enderman, at least not quite. Half of his face was white.

“Hey Tubbo, I think I found out what Quackity was shouting about.” The half-enderman kid called over his shoulder.

Cleo staggered to her feet, her sword out. “I won't hesitate to-”

The half-enderman backed up and raised his empty hands “Oh no, we're not with Quackity,” He explained.

Cleo scowled but lowered her sword. “Well isn’t that lovely, someone who doesn’t want to stab me.”

He looked alarmed, “Oh, I wouldn’t do that- I mean, I definitely don’t want to do that.” Now that she got a better look at him he looked kind of young, he was tall but in the lanky teenager kind of way. He looked to be 18 or 19, maybe 17. His suit probably made him look older.

“Oh hey, so what was Big Q so mad about?” Another kid said as he came around the building. He stopped short when he saw Cleo. “Oh…” He was much shorter than the ender-kid. Two horns curled up out of his brown hair and almost every inch of exposed skin was covered in burn scars. Cleo let her sword return to her inventory.

“Big man, why is there a funny looking zombie in our base?” the goat kid said

Cleo bristled, “I’m still a person, thank you.”

The goat kid looked back at Cleo “Ooooh- oops.”

“Now look what you’ve done, you’ve gone and insulted her.”

“I didn’t meeean to, how was I supposed to know?” The goat kid wined.

The two bickered like a married couple. Cleo coughed “Um- would either of you two be able to explain what is going on,”

“Haven’t got a fucking clue,” The goat kid chirped, a little to cheerfully.

Cleo pursed her lips, “Well, could you at least tell me where I am?”

“Um… The road between Las Nevadas and Spawn. Or do you mean here-here. This is our cookie shop.” The ender-kid explained.

Cleo blinked.

“I think she means the server big man,” The goat kid said, “This is the Dream SMP.”

Cleo blinked again. So not Hermitcraft. Shit.

---

The goat kid introduced himself as Tubbo and the ender-kid as Ranboo. Cleo explained what had happened, which made Tubbo laugh. It turned out that the cookie outpost and Las Nevadas were in conflict and Tubbo liked the idea of doing something that would, in his words “Piss off Big Q.”

Cleo tried to return to Hermitcraft but was met with an error message. Tubbo and Ranboo offered to let her stay in Snowchester till she figured things out. They had no idea how she got there but they didn’t seem too concerned about it.

Snowchester was surprisingly far away from what the kids were calling a cookie shop. To Cleo it looked suspiciously like a military outpost but who was she to judge?

Snowchester was a quaint little walled in town, overlooked by a massive mansion worthy of any Hermitcraft base. There was a tower, docs, and a little wheat field mixed in with little log and stone houses. The air was crisp and cold, light snow fell around them landing on her hair and bare arms. Untouched snow coated the steps to most of the houses and closely shuttered windows looked back at her. The ocean lapped against the shore and the sound of a boat bumping against the pier carried up through the town. A single seagull landed on a stone wall. It looked at Cleo and cawed.

Ranboo and Tubbo lead Cleo around a strangely industrial building on a hill in the middle of the town with “Danger, keep out” signs on the doors.

“So what’s in there,” Cleo asked, nodding towards the industrial building.

Ranboo raised his brows and looked at Tubbo. Tubbo pursed his lips “Oh nothing much, that’s just where we do equipment testing. You’re not allowed in there,” he added. There was finality to his tone. Cleo wondered what he was hiding and if it was worth snooping around to find out, but there was a dark conviction in the way that the kid with too many scars said it. The way the ender-kid hovered at his side anxiously watching everything. Maybe she should be careful not to make more enemies.

They lead her to a little house behind the industrial building. “This used to be Foolish’s but he moved out so you can stay here for now,” Tubbo explained opening the door and letting them inside.

“Foolish… the guy who Quackity thinks I kidnaped? You’re giving me his house?” Cleo scoffed looking around. A square table and chairs stood off to one side, a counter with a furnace and cabinets lined the back wall and a cactus in a pot sat by the front door.

“Well, it’s not really his house anymore, he hasn’t lived here for months,” Tubbo shrugged.

Cleo sighed, “So long as he won’t mind. Goodness this whole situation is a mess.”

Ranboo gave her a sympathetic smile.

“Welp,” Tubbo clapped his hands. “We’ll let you get settled in. Just don’t go snooping around in people’s homes, we are pretty private people here.”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it,” Cleo said absently, still looking around the room.

Tubbo and Ranboo left, closing the door behind them.

There was a silence and then Cleo jumped at the sound of someone drinking milk. She spun around summoning her sword, freezing as the invisibility melted away to reveal Etho standing in the corner.

“Finally, I thought they were never going to leave,” Etho muttered.

“Etho! What are you doing here?” Cleo bristled.

Etho looked sheepishly off to the side as he rubbed the back of his head. “We’ll, I might have been following you. If you mean here on this server, we don’t really know. Oh yeah, TFC’s here too. We’ve been stuck on this server for about two weeks now. Least, I’ve been, TFC showed up about a week ago.”

“So wait, You're telling me you have been stuck on this server for two weeks?”

Etho nodded “Yup. Come on let's get out of here before they come back. We can talk at my secret base.”

Cleo pulled away “Wait, wait. Why? Why were you sneaking around? Why are we avoiding those kids? I would like a good reason before I turn down their hospitality.”

“This server isn’t what it seems to be. It’s seriously glitched out. Haven’t you noticed how many scars everyone has here, how many hybrids there are.”

Now that Cleo thought about it, even the ender-kid, Ranboo, had scars that looked like tears running down his face. Scars only happened when there was a glitch during respawn so they were pretty rare, the fact that three of the five people she had seen so far had obvious scars was concerning, especially with how bad the scars on that Tubbo kid were. On top of that, Quackity looked like he might be some kind of bird hybrid, with small golden wings, while Tubbo was a goat and Cleo had no idea what Ranboo really was. Hybrids were the result of pretty strong server glitches, and from what Etho was saying those guys weren’t the only ones.

“So the server is glitchy, that doesn't make them bad people,”

“There are places on this server that have been blown up all the way down to bedrock. Those kids who seemed so nice, they have nukes in that building right outside. There is a prison that everyone here is terrified of, seemingly for good reason. The Warden that guards it almost killed me while chasing me and TFC away, and said something about hunting us down and killing us till we were completely dead.”

Cleo blanched “Completely dead… like, they have a way of reliably preventing respawning here.” She remembered what it felt like being stuck in the void unable to respawn. For Joe it had only been a couple of minutes, for her it had felt like hours.

“I don’t know,” Etho shrugged. “I just think it would be best if we all kept a low profile till we can find a way out of here.”

“I… I trust you, Etho. But I don’t want to leave without letting those kids know that I won’t be staying here. They seem like nice kids, I’d rather not just disappear on them.”

Etho hesitated, then nodded “Alright, Just be careful, and take this,” He said handing her two invis pots. “You can find me in the sewers under their shopping district, there is a community center in the middle of a lake, the entrance to the tunnels is underneath it.”

Cleo took the potions and smiled reassuringly, “Don’t worry, I got this. I’ll be fiiine.”

“Ok,” Etho nodded and pulled his facemask down. He drank an invis potion before leaving the building.

Cleo sighed. Perma-death hum, would that even work on her? Seeing as she already kinda died before. She didn’t want to have to find out.

#hermitcraft dsmp swap au #dsmp #dream smp #hermitcraft #dsmp au #dream smp au #hermitcraft au #hc x dsmp au #foolish gamers #joe hills #zombie cleo #quackity #tubbo #ranboo #charlie slimecicle #purpled #etho #tfc #warden sam

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argylemnwrites · 3 years

Text

Sunday Morning

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC (Riley Liu)

Book: The Royal Romance (It Couldn’t Wait Another Moment universe, about seven years after Why Are We Still Waiting?)

Word Count: ~1750

Rating: PG-13 (language)

Summary: “I’ve had this dream of mine since I was like 21… about Sunday morning. Waking up Sunday mornings early, my wife is there. She’s asleep. And then you can hear these little feet coming up the stairs… She’s like, ‘Daddy, I’m hungry.’”

“‘Okay, alright.’ I go down to the kitchen; I take her. And you know she wants the one thing Momma says you can’t have. She wants cookies for breakfast… I’m trying to be... “Daddy’s girl,” you know, all that type of stuff. So I sneak her a little cookie and we go play, and that’s it. We chill, and then eventually Momma wakes up, she comes down, and she plays with us.

“And, you know, for me, it’s just quality time. It’s just quality time with family. I don’t need anything more than that. I don’t want anything more than that in life. When I see you... I see Sunday morning.” ~ Riley Christian

Author’s Note: Breaking my hiatus just a little bit early. This is definitely an unplanned one shot, set long after WAWSW?. I was getting caught up on some TV now that my exam is (thankfully) behind me, and I watched the Bachelor in Paradise finale, because I clearly have no taste. The quote above came from one of the contestants, Riley, as he told Maurissa, the woman he proposed to later that episode, how he felt about her. It was one of the most touching moments I’ve ever seen on a reality dating show and it actually made me feel genuine emotion - at least enough to get the creative juice flowing. So congrats to Maurissa and Riley, a couple I think has an actual shot at lasting in the real world! And don’t mind me as I use this reality TV moment as fanfic inspiration, hahaha!

The sun was just peeking between the slats of the blinds as Drake blinked, slowly transitioning from asleep to awake. He rolled over, checking the time on his phone that was charging on the nightstand. 6:14. Well, Riley wouldn’t be up for a while. He let out a sigh, rolling to his other side and taking her in, passed out on her stomach. Her hair was getting longer, back like it was before Jackie was born, and it fanned out over the pillow, a sea of black, her face barely visible. He’d never understood how she could breathe through that thick mass, but she’d always claimed that it was less bothersome than him trying to keep it off her face, so he just let it be.

He knew he probably wasn’t going to fall back asleep, but there was something just so damn nice about being able to take a lazy morning, lounging in bed with his wife. Sundays were just like that. Riley sometimes had to work either Friday or Saturday night, but that was rare on Sundays. Sundays were usually just the three of them, bumming around. Sometimes, they’d head to Prospect Park, or they’d go out for lunch, but other times they literally didn’t leave their unit. It was always relaxing and just enjoyable.

Drake shifted slightly, moving to grab his book off his nightstand when he heard a floorboard creaking through the bedroom wall. He paused, and sure enough, the squeak of the hinges of Jackie’s door followed just a few moments later. He kept quiet, trying to determine if he was going to need to get out of bed and intercept whatever mischief she would undoubtedly get into if she was left unwatched. During the day, she could usually be trusted to play quietly by herself, but she’d recently decided she would make herself breakfast in the mornings. It had usually just meant some spills and sticky messes in the kitchen, but last Sunday was Mother’s Day, and Jackie had attempted to make pancakes for Riley as a surprise. It was a sweet thought, but the end result had been spending the entire morning in urgent care. Drake supposed it was a blessing she shattered the mixing bowl early in her effort. Getting some glass shards removed from her foot and a handful of stitches in her palm and sole was probably better than if she’d gotten as far as turning on the stove and burned her hands. But after that, she was officially banned from cooking without one of them in the kitchen. Drake was just curious to see whether or not she followed the new rule.

A couple of seconds later, Drake was able to let out a sigh of relief as their bedroom door swung open. Jackie made a beeline around the bed to Drake’s side, knowing exactly who would be up at this hour. He was impressed how quiet she kept, not making nearly any noise until she stood right next to his nightstand.

“Daddy,” she hissed out in a whisper, “I’m hungry. And you and Mommy said I’m not allowed to make breakfast alone anymore and-”

Drake nodded, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “Yeah, that’s right. Thanks for getting me.”

He stretched slightly, watching his daughter bounce on her bare feet that stuck out from the bottom of her shooting star pyjamas as she tried to patiently wait for him to fully get out of bed. As soon as he pushed himself to standing, she bounded out the door, around the corner and into the galley kitchen. Jackie did, at least, wait for him to join her before she pulled out her step stool.

“Alright, Jackie. What are we making?”

“Can we make pancakes?”

Drake raised an eyebrow. He wasn’t exactly surprised, because pancakes were her favorite, but part of him had thought she might be a little less sold on them after her experiences last weekend. But in a lot of ways, she was just like Riley, and her boldness and fearlessness was only one example. “Sure thing, kiddo.”

So they got to work, washing their hands, pulling out the ingredients and supplies. Eventually, Drake cracked the eggs into the bowl before placing it in front of Jackie, letting her stir everything together.

“Daddy?”

“Yeah?”

“Maybe we should add some chocolate chips?”

Drake glanced over at his daughter, her dark eyes wide as she held the spoon over the bowl. “Jackie, you know you aren’t supposed to have chocolate for breakfast.” They’d been trying to teach Jackie about healthy foods versus treat foods, and adding a definite treat food to breakfast was not exactly sticking with that effort. Plus, Drake knew she was figuring out that she just had to give him that look, and he was likely to cave. Again, not great behavior to enforce.

But it was just hard to tell her “no” when she kept looking at him like that. All the shit that Riley gave him about Jackie having him wrapped around her little finger was definitely true. She was his kid, though, and he just struggled to be tough with her, particularly over something so minor. Especially when she’d been good and listened to them and had come to grab him before she went into the kitchen. So, he stepped over to her other side, opened the pantry cupboard, and pulled out the container of chocolate chips, tossing a few handfuls of them into the bowl. The smile Jackie gave him was more than worth it.

As Drake cooked the pancakes, Jackie set the table. Drake did stop her from pulling out the whipped cream from the fridge; he wasn’t that much of a softie. But soon, they were sitting down to eat, a large stack of chocolate chip pancakes between them.

“Can we go to the park today?” Jackie asked between bites, reaching up to brush her hair back.

Drake nodded. “I think that can be arranged.”

“And can we get ice cream there?”

“What, the chocolate chips not sweet enough for you?”

“Dad-dy, it’s not the same. Ice cream will be later.”

“No way, kiddo. You are only talking me into one treat today. Hit up Mommy for the next one.”

“Hit me up for what?” Riley’s voice caused him to twist around in his chair, taking her in as she entered the dining space, wrapping her robe around her as she shuffled over to the table.

“Mommy, can we get ice cream at the park later?”

Riley pushed her glasses up her nose as she sat down at her spot, grabbing the plate with the pancakes that Drake passed her. “Are those chocolate chips I spy in the pancakes?”

“Daddy added them.”

“Is that so?” Riley spun to face Drake, a smirk playing across her face.

“It’s probably more fair to call it a joint effort,” he said with a little shrug.

“Marshmallow,” she mouthed at him before turning back towards Jackie. “Well, since Daddy already got you one treat, I think Mommy should get to get you one too, right?”

Jackie frowned, trying to work through Riley’s statement. “Does that mean we’re getting ice cream?” she finally asked, a hopeful look in her eyes.

“It means we’re getting ice cream,” Riley said, shaking her head, “but only if you help clean up breakfast and put away all your toys where they belong.”

Jackie was out of her seat in a flash, dashing into the living room to start cleaning up her toys before her good luck ran out.

“God, she’s going to have so many cavities,” Riley said before taking her first bite.

“Sorry, she gave me that look, and she’d been so good. You know, she came to get me before she went in the kitchen, and I wanted to reinforce that, and-.”

Riley leaned over the table and kissed him, effectively cutting him off. “You are so soft,” she said as she pulled back, tracing her fingers across his cheek.

“Hey, I drew the line at the whipped cream she tried to place on the table!”

Riley chuckled as Jackie walked back past the table into her room, a pile of stuffed animals loaded in her arms. “Oh, my mistake, you clearly are such a hard ass with her.”

“You don’t have a leg to stand on, Liu. You caved just as quickly with her ice cream ask,” Drake said, raising an eyebrow.

Riley smirked before taking another bite. “I am not gonna let you be the favorite parent here just because you get up early and can spoil her first. We’re gonna have to come up with a better strategy, though, because she’s definitely realizing she can play us against each other.”

“It only works because you are so competitive.”

“Me? Who was the one who got mad over losing Candyland last night?”

Drake let out a sigh. “That game is garbage and you know it, Liu.”

She laughed again as Jackie passed back through on her way to collect more toys. “You are only saying that because you lo-oo-ooo-st,” she responded in a sing-song voice.

“Bullshit,” said Drake, quiet enough that his voice wouldn’t carry over to Jackie’s ears. “It’s completely random and it takes way too long and if you had got sent back to the start when you were three squares away from winning, you’d be just as-”

Riley cut him off with another kiss. “Like I said, I am not the competitive one here.”

All Drake could do was roll his eyes. He knew he had a competitive streak, but Riley’s was definitely worse. It was just his luck that he had such a recent example that she could toss out there. “Yeah, yeah. You just keep that sentiment in mind next game night. You want some coffee?”

Riley nodded. “Don’t do all the dishes while you’re in there. She needs to help.”

“I know. I’ll just start things soaking.” Drake couldn’t help but smile as he watched Jackie dart through again, this time carrying her crayons and some coloring books. She was cleaning up her stuff readily, which meant that the ice cream at least motivated some good behavior. She was a good kid, and she was clearly willing to work for a little extra treat. That had to count for something.

Besides, it was a Sunday. And if any day deserved chocolate chip pancakes and ice cream, it was Sunday.

Perma: @mom2000aggie @octobereighth @kingliam2019 @lovingchoices14

TRR/TRH: @iplaydrake @princessleac1 @twinkleallnight @gkittylove99 @ladyangel70 @marshmallowsandfire @axwalker @sirbeepsalot @iaminlovewithtrr @forallthatitsworth @marshmallowsaremyfavorite @hedgehogs-dilemmas

Drake x MC: @petiteboheme @mskaneko

ICWAM: @sunnyxdazed @thequeenofpixels

#drake walker #drake x mc #trr fanfic #trr au #trr au fanfic

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rogue-durin-16 · 3 years

Text

MERMAID

Summary: the sexual tension of George and Y/n's weird friendship is getting the best of their friends, so when Harry suggests a trip to the Black Lake, they become adamant about getting them together.

Pairing: George Weasley x Reader

Genre: fluff

Tags:

Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog @amourtentiaa

Warnings: language and a bit of makeout

A/N: BITCH I THOUGHT THIS WAS A SHORT ONE??? I needed some fluff for this boy since I'm torturing him, so here it goes an idea I had half asleep in the bus, enjoy <3

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

"They're literally— her legs are wrapped around his hips— are you kidding me?!" I whispered-shouted in desperation. "This is unbearable!"

"Fred relax, they just need a little push." Hermione's words sounded ridiculous even for her own ears.

"I brought her here!" Harry backed me up, equally annoyed. "If that's not one hell of a push, then what is it?"

"Shush, boys." Ginny spoke, her eyes still closed under her sunglasses as she laid on her towel. "We have hours ahead of us for them to make a move."

I puffed, my eyes returning to George, whose arms were wrapped around Y/n's middle from behind, making her squeal before throwing her to a deeper part of the lake.

They would not make a move.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

READER'S P. O. V.

We had moved to the dock in order to see the sunset better, and, now that the sun was low and the light lacking, we began to pick things up.

"Why the long face?" George questioned when he saw my gaze.

"I'd have enjoyed a night swim, if I'm being honest." I got up and went to grab my bag. "Another time I g— George!" I couldn't help but cry out when his arms picked me up and threw me into the water. "You fucking plonker!" I yelled, moving my wet hair away from my face. "This was the only dress I brought!" The lake wasn't as deep there, so I could easily stand on my feet and climb up, but I was already drenched.

George was bent over himself, laughing loudly, so he was helpless when Ginny pushed him into the lake.

As he resurfaced besides me, I couldn't help but burst into laughter at his shocked, betrayed face; it was priceless.

"Have fun you two." Ginny spoke as the rest laughed. "C'mon guys." The redhead grabbed my bag and Hermione picked George's, and soon it was just the two of us there.

"Aren't you going to thank me?" George broke the silence, crouching to dip his body underwater, protecting it for the blows of wind.

"Why?" I moved deeper into the lake, seeking the protection of the chill temperature too.

"You got your night swim."

"My dress is soaked!" I exclaimed, splashing him right in the face.

"Oi, so is my shirt!" He replied, following my lead and diving in. We stayed like that for a couple of minutes, idly swimming and floating until George stopped moving and spoke. "You know? You kinda remind me of a mermaid."

"You've seen a lot of them?" I quirked an eyebrow, giving up the swimming to stand on my feet.

"Git." He send a splash of water in my direction, making me giggle. "I mean like the one in the perfects' bathroom."

"You're not allowed into the prefects' bathroom, Weasley," I moved my hands on the water's surface, creating little waves around me. "Unlike me, you're not a Prefect, because only prats become Prefects." I quoted him in a mocking tone.

"Are you gonna rat me out, Y/l/n?" He teased, eyebrows raised as he circled me.

"I would, but I don't get anything out of it." I shrugged, sinking into the water once more until the only thing over it was my face. "Sooo..."

"Sooo..." He mocked me, making my eyes roll.

"A mermaid." George hummed, taking a look at the moon, which was shinning more than it usually would. "Is it because I'll lure you into the depths of the black lake?" I inquired, his eyes meeting mines when my hands found his underwater tugging him towards me as I stepped back, deeper into the water.

"I'd follow you without question." He dramatically replied, doing as he had said with a smile on his face until his feet couldn't reach the bottom.

"How romantic." My fingertips traveled up his forearms, reaching his shoulders as he moved even closer to me.

A wicked smile slipped through my gaze and he didn't have time to step back before I shoved him down in repay for dunking me earlier. I was quick to rush in the shore's direction, but not quick enough.

"Oi, not so fast!" He half swam half ran after me, taking a hold of my leg and pulling on it, and, given that I was standing on my tiptoes, consequently dragging me back to him. "You're a nightmare."

"I think you mean a dream." I mused, spinning to meet his gaze.

"Nah," His hands had left my legs after I catching me, and now rested on my hips. "I'm pretty sure of what I mean."

"Is it because I haunt your dreams in the night?" I laughed at my own joke, my fingertips toying with the hem of his shirt, slightly floating due to the water. "Can't sleep with the thought of me on your mind, huh?"

It was meant to be another playful tease, but by the way his hands' hold tightened ever so slightly, it dawned on me that maybe I had taken a too accurate guess.

My heart hammered against my chest as I have his shirt a tug. "If you wanna kiss me so bad, pretty boy, why don't you?"

He snorted as if I was joking; I couldn't blame him, though. We were always joking about that. "Why don't you kiss me, if you want it so bad?"

I went for a laugh and a shake of my head as a response, not trusting my voice. A particularly cool blow of wind caught us and he shivered; the temperature had gone significantly lower in the last couple of minutes. "C'mon, I don't wanna freeze to death, and we got a long way to the common room." I caught one of his hands as they left my hips and led him back to the shore. "They took the towels?!"

"Don't worry," the ginger said, taking off this drenched tee to wring it out. "We'll kill them later." He assured me, throwing the clothing back on as I wringed the hem of my dress. "C'mon, love." This time it was him taking my hand to lead the way.

We walked in silence, cracking a joke or two as we made our way to the castle. Finally reaching the stairs of the boat house, we began to climb them.

"Oi." George gave my hand a tug, his eyes scanning our surroundings. "You heard that?"

"Stop it." I chuckled, playfully bumping his chest before attempting to pull his hand to resume our walk; he had been pulling the strange noise card the whole walk. "C'mon—"

"Shhh!"

"I'm not gonna fall for it." I climbed off one of the steps to meet the ginger. "I'm cold so—" and then I heard it. "What...?" My gaze left the boy to scrutinise the darkness over his shoulder.

"Told you." He whispered, prompting me to come closer to him with a squeeze on my hand.

"You've been joking about that the whole time!" I scolded in an equally quiet tone.

"Who said I was joking?" the eyes of us both fixed at the bottom of the stairs trying to discern something.

"You think we should go check...?"

"Darling, I think that's the worst idea you've ever had." He responded. "It could be anything— we're out here at night."

"Yeah, but we're almost in the castle." We had come incredibly closer, partially because of the unnerving feeling that something was watching us, but also because of the wind that hit our still very wet clothes.

He seemed to think for a moment before turning back to me. "Walk before me." He instructed, already pushing me upstairs. "I'll keep an eye behind us."

The paranoia in my mind increased as we went up— we were outside the castle, it truly could be anything, and I didn't exactly enjoy the idea of George at the back.

That noise again.

I huffed, frustration and fear growing inside me.

"Don't worry." George, who until now had been at least three steps behind me, rushed up, holding my waist and giving me a gentle squeeze. "It's probably nothing, alright?"

"Walk by me." I requested, in a mutter.

He seemed to understand the nature of my plead and his hands left my waist so he would be able to fall into step with me. "Can't take your eyes off me, huh?" He successfully lightened up the mood, but right when I was about to tease back, the damn noise sounded again, this time making us jump. "What the hell..."

"That sounded close." I pointlessly observed. George groaned when he went to grab his wand and realised it was in his bag, most likely in the common room already. "Running to the boathouse is very tempting." I joked, leaning on him with my eyes still looking for the source of our fear.

"Blimey, Aurora!" we had to refrain our yelps when Professor Sprout's voice ended the tense silence we had fallen in. "Didn't think I'd find you here."

As the Professors seemed to descend the stairs and consequently come closer, George and I shared a panicked look. In a rush of adrenaline, I tugged him to the edge of the stairs and made him jump out to the raw rocks with me right after him; we made it just in time for Sinistra and Sprout to walk down the place where we had been an instant ago.

GEORGE'S P.O.V.

Y/n peeked over the rail to see the two women chatting, following their path without any sign of suspicion. With a sigh of relief, her eyes fell on me, crouched besides her with a hand on the stone rail to steady myself. I raised my eyebrows, surprised at her resolution, and then proceeded to chuckle, which earned me a kick on my leg.

"Shut it." She warned me with a smile of her own.

Silence fell among us once again, and, when she stood up, propping herself on the railing, my mind decided it was a good time to stare.

She was always a sight for sore eyes, but now with the moonlight reflecting on her hair and skin, she seemed to glow. Her dress, though it was meant to be flowy, had stuck to her torso due to the water, and hugged her curves in the most delightful way. Oh what I would give for her to realise I wanted to hold her tight in a different way as she allowed me to.

"I'm gonna pretend you're not ogling me." She informed me, her eyes still fixed on the path our Professors had taken. I only smiled to myself, standing up to jump back to the stairs before offering her both my hands.

"C'mon darling." She took them in hers before climbing up the railing and jumping down in front of me.

Her words had been echoing in my mind during the whole walk.

-If you wanna kiss me so bad, pretty boy, why don't you?-

Did she mean it?

"What is it?" She questioned with a confused smile, staring at me. "What?" She repeated, but my mind was somewhere else.

My mind was at the lake, where her hands had roamed over my bare skin several times; where I had held her against me in nothing more than our bathing suits; where we had been left alone and she had found a thousand different reasons to take my hands or pull me closer; where her tone had dropped as she said those words at mere inches of my lips.

"George," she snapped her fingers in front of my eyes. "we gotta go."

Not yet, I thought, taking a step towards Y/n that felt like a leap of faith. Though she took a step back, her hands held my forearms, taking me with her just like she had done moments ago at the lake.

And just like it had happened before, her eyes lured me into drowning, and I followed without question.

The kiss was as deep as the black lake, my hands finding the rail behind her for some extra support —I had become weak on the knees, my legs feeling as if they were about to give out—, and her hands going from my arms to my chest without pulling away from my body.

The synchrony of our lips was unbelievably perfect, sending shocks through my whole body.

My lips detached from hers to pepper kisses down her jaw to her neck.

"George..." My name came up of her as a quiet moan and I felt dizzy, not noticing the moan that came out of my own mouth. "George," she called again, this time with a more steady voice, clearing her throat before pushing me away with her hand on my chest.

"Something wrong?" I inquired, trying to get a grip on myself. "Did I—?

"No— I'm very much enjoying this," She assured me. "but a moment ago we were scared shitless because—"

That noise.

Whatever that was, it was nearly in front of us. That time, along with that weird noise, something like whispers were heard.

We both yelped when Harry's Cloak of Invisibility was thrown to the ground before us, revealing three grinning idiots, them being Fred, Ron and Harry.

"On Merlin's beard..." My cheeks started to burn and I felt the imperative need of hiding my face. "What are you doing?"

"We needed to see if you'd finally make a move." Ron explained.

"We even bet on where would it happen." Harry confessed, making my cheeks go even redder. "Now we owe Ginny money." He grunted. "Ugh, you were so close on the lake, I almost won."

"For a moment there, Georgie," Fred was biting back a laugh. "I thought we would witness you two shagging." Ron grimaced at the thought. "Poor Harry panicked and threw the cloak down."

"I'm gonna murder y'all." Y/n jumped in, nearly as mortified as I was. "I finally got him to kiss me and you go and kill the mood! Why don't you piss off so we can do it again?"

Fred got the memo thanks to Y/n's death glare and they rushed upstairs, my twin brother whispering a quick 'congrats' as he passed by me.

"Well that wasn't like I expected our first kiss to go." She confessed, letting out a laugh at the sight of me. "You're as red as a beetroot."

"Shut up." I bumped her arm, a grin twitching the corners of my lips. "So you want me to kiss you again?"

"Of course." Her arms wrapped around my neck, bringing my closer. "If possible, without involving voyeurism." I snorted, tugging her hips to mines before leaning on to kiss her again.

Little did we know that Hermione and Ginny, ever the smart and subtle ones, were watching from the top of the stairs.

#george wealsey imagine #george wealsey x reader #george weasley #george weasley x y/n #george weasley x reader #george weasley x gryffindor!reader #george weasley x you #george weasley fluff #george weasley smut #george weasley fanfic #george x reader #george x reader fluff #george weasley aesthetic #harry potter and the triwizard tournament #harry potter fanfiction

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jackassbroadcast · 3 years

Text

Hello im a Tommy enthusiast who watched that one stream where he monologued to foolish for like hafe an hour bc i heard it was a cool stream or wtv to realize how much amazing character moments it had that barly anyone in this damn fandom is talking about so ill fucking do it

(Only after finishing this i realized i wrote 1.7k words LOL OOPS)

If u dont know what in talking about its this stream (apologies for linking a clips channel the actual vod on foolish's channel is deleted by now)

Also heads up /rp /dsmp every time i refer to someone here by name is their character unless stated otherwise bc writing c! Before every name Is tiring LOL

Also // suicidal idealization , death mentions

The conversation starts off with foolish and tommy mining for Wilbur, and foolish questions how simply mining will solve the problem to which Tommy reponds with "they dont get solved, do they? It just ends uo with some madman screaming 'Hes solved it!' And now look at him." And how he wants to "prevent the problem before it goes outta hand" something that clearly references Wilbur and his destruction of lmanburg, which paired with him collecting stone for Wilbur as the way to stop said problems he believes if he does anything he can for Wilbur and support him by his side enough this time around, that he wont do anything like thay again, which as im writing this makes be realize by doing that we learn hes blaming himself for what happened to Wilbur in November 16th and pogtopia and a whole, by not being enough for Wilbur in his mind.

The conversation continues, foolish off hand asks why would tommy want to stop Wilbur? Weren't they friends at some point? To which tommy leads foolish to lmanburg and tells him the story of the nation (how it was him and Wilbur's nation, how they made it to espace dream's iron fist and how they held an election "which puts your life on the line, which is good- if you're confident but- perhaps we were too confident", how they lost)

Tommy: "You know the phrase: 'treat other how you wanna be treated', foolish? People dont ever listen to it. Wilbur- he decided he wanted to be treated poorly so he treated everyone around him poorly "

This Tommy quote, to me at least, so so amazingly strong in conveying how understanding he is? To the world around him. Like-

I have not seen one person bring this quote up, and yet its (at least to me) shows such growth and understanding in Tommy i saw little to nothing like it in other streams. It shows he understands, he knew Wilbur didnt change just because, he knows he was struggling, that he thought everyone around him were againt him, were going to abandon him the first chance theyll get- and he thought he deserved it. So he, as a last way to defend himself against that, hurt them first, abandoned them first, so theyll see how much of a 'bad' person he was and take him out- and tommy saw right through that, possibly understanding it more after exile.

This next qoute was talked about much more but i still wanna bring it up

Foolish: "Do you believe in second chances?"

Tommy: "Oh, no I don't really believe that its not really a thing for me foolish its just that-" *sigh* "- i believe everyone has a little bit of good in then and this is not about giving him a second chance or a third chance- its not about *chances* foolish. Its about not giving up on the poeple you care about. "

Which. I mean. I dont know how healthy that mindset is, but comign from Tommy it makes so much sense.

Techno, tubbo, eret, sapnap. These are all people Tommy used to be extremely close to, had either a war or had been betrayed by them, and yet still found it in his heart that he still cares for them, with all of these, they did horrendous things, that hurt tommy physically and mentally, while also not being once or twice, but a contentious thing, but while tommy is to this day still effected by their actions he still found it in himself to forgive, because he knows he fucked up too, a lot, and he knoes they learned from their mistakes just as he had (except c!techno FUCKKK c!techno mf doesnt learn SHITTT) and he knows, when the time comes he knows hed want the people he hurt to forgive him too. (And he wants Wilbur to do the same)

Next qoute i will cut to a couple parts because its really so good and full of character i had to bro

Foolish: "Do you consider yourself to be the good guy or the bad guy?"

Tommy: "It really depends who you ask, isn't it? Yknow? If you asked dream he'd say im *his little toy that he plays with* you know? It doesnt.."

This part really stunned me when i first heard it because, and correct me If im wrong, but i dont think tommy ever acknowledged how dream sees him, and how right he has his viewpoint too. Just the fact tommy is so *painfully* aware of how dream doesnt even see him as a person anymore but just a toy to mess around with for a while than just throw it away when it get too boring really hurt me. Someone give this kid a hug

(Continued) Tommy: "...foolish, honestly? I used to consider myself 'the good guy', you know? The fuckin'- second in command! But these past- these past like six months or so, foolish, everything got so much harder than it was before. Because before it was just us vs bad guys, it was all so clear! But- its not been 'clear' for so long, right? It wasn't; 'these are the bad guys! These are the good guys!' Now it's : 'he's doing this and it makes him a bit worse-' i mean, it all got so complicated, so- i don't know. Depends who you ask."

He says this, in response to foolish asking if hes a good guy- but its awfully similar to if Wilbur asked him if they were the bad guys. Because foolish just asked about him, and yet in his answer tommy made sure to keep using the words "us, he's, guys" as if hes not really talking about himself, as if hes explaining how Wilbur was wrong. Which he was. Also something interesting ive noticed, he says "the last 6 months or so", which indicated that with Wilbur he knew better to follow his word and leadership- with Wilbur he was always on the right side but when he lost him he felt much more lost alone, and couldn't trust himself enough to be on the "right side" .

Foolish: "I dont know, it all seems strange because just from, you know- hearing from others and, you know, learing a little bit, its seems like you've been the hero, you've been the villain, the conqueror, the savior, and, even now, i have no idea what you exactly are."

Tommy: "that's up to you to decide, isn't it? Im just- *uh* i dont know. These days, foolish, I'm a little weaker than i used to be"

Foolish couldn't be more right with what he said, another example of this we see where a character acknowledges tommy never sticks to one thing us Charlie when calling him "tommy fron nowhere" which shows more how he cant stick to one thing, during the course of him on the server he had been friends and enemy with nearly everyone, been on pretty much all sides, and while never really intentionally, being in the center of conflict. When foolish says he doesnt know who tommy is anymroe at this point and all Tommy says in return is that "hes a little weaker than he used to be" does to show he misses who he used to be, with lmanburg, with Wilbur, when he knew who he was, now he doesn't know who he is anymore, but still so desperately want to be more demonstrated by the lines coming rigth after that one:

(Continued) Tommy: "..I'm not- I'm now who i want to be, but-"

Foolish: "Being honest with you, Tommy, that's the same case for me as well."

Tommy: "...heres the thing, foolish, unlike you i dont really have a choice. I have to try and be who i want to be, because if i dont, very bad things are gonna happen in this server. And now that Wilbur's back i can't- quite frankly *no one* can risk that. So i dont really have a choice."

Tommy want's to change- he wants to be better than he is now, to be closer to who he used to be, no matter how impossible that might be, but he also sees it as an immediate thing, he wants to change now, or asap, which is why hes collecting stone for Wilbur in the first place- old him would've done that with ease just because Wilbur asked and he wants to have that back so badly, asap. The way he talked about this reminded me of when he tried getting over his trauma stream before he went in the prison to kill dream: he knew he wasnt the best but he tried getting over that asap to go kill dream asap. He didnt wanna take the long road of years of healing and instead thought he could get over it just like that, and that experience clearly didnt teach him anything because now hes trying to slide back to the relationship he and Wilbur used to have and ignoring the drastic changes they both had plus the bad moments that were the reason they feel out in the first place, or maybe he knows, but at this point, after everything that happened to him and the server, he doesnt care anymore? He knows hes not the same he was and he'll never be the same, because thats not how it works, but his mentor, president, big brother is back after so long tommy felt so lost and alone he thinks maybe, this time around, with Wilbur, he could try and be better again.

#mcyt #dream smp #dsmp #dreamsmp #tommyinnit #mcyt foolish #dsmp foolish #dsmp tommy #analysis #character analysis #tommyinnit analysis #dsmp analysis #analysis post #long post #long

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dreamkidddream · 3 years

Note

congrats on 200!! :D

can you write #3 (the quote) for tanizaki (if it’s still free) ?? thanks!💗

I love me some Junichiro 🧡🧡 Reader is gender neutral!

TW: a little spicy/suggestive but nothing graphic or explicit is mentioned (honestly just think of like rated PG13 or something lmao), minor language

“How about a kiss?” with Junichiro!

“(Y/N) please don’t!”

“Hm, I don’t know Tanizaki. I think Naomi would want to hear about this.”

You almost felt bad for teasing your best friend/crush. Almost.

But when you discovered that he accidentally dropped Naomi’s piece of cake that she’s been raving about for the whole week, you saw this as the perfect opportunity to mess with him. You just knew that she would be pissed and ready to draw blood at whoever touched it (you knew as she threatened both you and her own brother), so seeing that Tanizaki was the one at fault had you both breathing a sigh of relief and plotting something downright devious.

“Wait (Y/N) don’t tell her! I can run and get her another one!”

“Don’t you think that she’ll notice? And that was the last one until they make some more tomorrow, and she’s planning on eating it today because it’s the weekend! Before you ask, there is no way in hell I’m taking the blame. Didn’t you see her eyes when she told us about the cake? She had flames in them, Zaki. Flames!”

“I’ll do anything, just don’t tell her!”

“Anything?”

Tanizaki was this close to begging you on his knees to not say a word to his beloved sister, when he saw that look appear across your face. The look that will lead to nowhere good, the look that dropped him even deeper into despair. He knew you long enough that that look was trouble.

He gulped.

He hated to see his sister upset, but was it about to be worth whatever you scheme you were planning? He asked himself that and already knew the answer.

Of course it’s worth it. If it means to keep a frown off of his sister’s face, then anything is worth it. Plus, he knew that you wouldn’t go overboard, you’re his best friend, one of the closest people to him (besides from Naomi of course), and someone that he is desperately in love with-

“How about a kiss?”

He nodded his head, all excited and relieved. Then he fully processed your words and nearly choked.

A kiss?! From him?! Is he dreaming? Is this all really happening? Now he’s not exactly a newbie when it comes to kissing, but with you, it’s different, he wants it to be different, because you’re different. He doesn’t think that he ever felt like this before with anyone but you (as cliche as it sounds, but it’s true!), so he doesn’t want to waste this opportunity on something silly like this...

“A-a k-kiss?! Really?”

“Mhm, I don’t see why not.”

But seeing the way that your eyes are shining with mischief and how you’re covering your mouth with your hand (are you laughing at him?!)...

It made something snap inside.

And this might his only chance to ever do this, and he will be damned if he misses it.

“Fine.”

You were too busy trying to gauge his reactions and not throw up your lunch to really understand what he said. “Huh?”

“I said fine! If that’s what it takes to keep Naomi happy and if it means I can finally kiss you then fine! I accept!”

“W-wait Tanizaki! I was just playing-“

He was getting too close for comfort, trapping you against the wall (is he kabedoning you?! Where did this confidence comes from?!), your arms paralyzed in the air, torn between keeping them at your sides or locking them behind his neck, bringing them in closer. “But that’s what you want, right? If that’s what it takes, then so be it.”

You really were just joking, somewhat. Of course you wanted to kiss him, his lips are on your mind at an alarming rate throughout the day, but you didn’t want to blackmail him into it. You would have never thought that he would actually agree to it! Is he really okay with this?!

“Tanizaki, you don’t have to do this seriously! I don’t want you to do anything you’re not okay with!”

“Oh but I am okay with this.”

“But-“

You didn’t have time to even think of what to say.

Tanizaki is kissing you. Your longtime crush, the guy that you’re deeply in love with, is kissing you.

And damn is he a good kisser.

You felt your eyes slide shut and your arms lock around his neck as he dropped his arms and wrapped them around your waist, bringing you closer and deepening the kiss. The time you spent imagining this moment was nothing like the real thing, this was much better. You started to doubt that he had this side to him, that he only reserved this type of intensity for whenever his sister when she’s threatened, but you were more than happy to be proven wrong. To be the one bringing this out of him has your head spinning.

You could even feel his tongue swiping at your bottom lip, his hand sliding lower-

Someone cleared their throat.

You both jumped away when you turned and saw Naomi standing in the doorway, eyes narrowed and face flushed, tapping her foot against the floor.

Shit.

Well, this is awkward.

The twins have shown how protective they are of each other, and you don’t think she’s okay with the fact that you’re making out with her older and only brother.

“O-oh hey Naomi”, you wanted to laugh when you heard his voice crack, but you kept it in after seeing her scowl. “What are you doing home s-so early?”

“They got done with the case early and said I was good to go”, she gritted through her teeth. “And I was ready to eat my cake but my appetite has been spoiled after seeing you shove your tongue down (Y/N)’s throat!”

Oh boy, this is really awkward. You didn’t even begin to know what to say. Your mouth just constantly opened and closed, gaping like a fish. But it seemed that you didn’t have to worry about it as she stomped away, huffing and puffing.

“Whatever! The only thing that’s saving you two from me is the fact that you finally confessed! Geez, I don’t have to keep hearing about ‘what if they don’t like me back’ or anymore of this lovestruck stuff. I gush over people too, but even you guys were giving me a headache with how pitiful you guys were.”

Okay, being read by her was not expected, but you guessed you deserved it, and on the plus side, it seemed that you weren’t alone in your romantic struggle and she accepted it!

“I’m going to hang out with Haruno, you lovebirds call me when you’re done. Just don’t do anything in the kitchen or in my room, and please use protection-“

“NAOMI-“

“Kidding, notreallybye~”

She shut the door before Tanizaki could protest anymore. The air was tense, until you couldn’t hold it anymore. You burst out laughing, while he just tried to ramble out an apology/excuse until he cracked a smile at you.

“Well, Zaki? Wanna pick up where we left off at? I surely do.”

“YES! I-I mean”, he cleared his throat. “Only if you’re okay with that. But I wouldn’t mind too.”

“Lead the way.”

He grabbed your hand and gently lead you to his room at a quick pace, eager just as you are to continue.

Bonus:

It still amazes you at how quick Junichiro can change, one minute being able to steal your breath away and the next gently caressing you while whispering how much he adores you. Life is great with Junichiro by your side, both as a best friend and even better as a lover.

You both almost dozed off until you heard the door slam back open again.

“Juni, are you home? You have to tell me everything with what happened with (Y/N), minus the explicit details of course- wait. Why is my slice of cake IN THE TRASH!”

Both of your eyes snapped open. You’ve guys been so...occupied that you forgot to take out the trash. Whoops.

“Oh dear big brother, count your days.”

#bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd junichiro #bsd tanizaki #junichiro tanizaki x reader #junichiro x reader #tanizaki junichirou #tanizaki x reader #dream’s 100 + 200 followers prompt special 💙

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ldouble · 3 years

Text

Slumming It | Kevin Atwater X Reader (Chicago PD)

summary: When pulled into an undercover op for the Intelligence Unit, you couldn’t be more excited. The only person who catches your hesitation is your boyfriend. A lot is unsaid in the bullpen, your relationship being one of them.

gif is not mine :)

“You keep looking at me like that and they’re gonna know you’re slumming it with a uniform.”

Your words were punctuated by the complete zip of the knee high leather boots. But it wasn’t till the hell smacks the concrete of the locker room does Kevin look up at you, unimpressed with your statement.

You tilted your head at him, hoping it aided your humor. All it did was send the little eye contact held fleeting.

“I’m not slumming it with a uniform.” Kevin shook his head toward the ground, until he realized what he just said. “I’m not slumming it with you, either.”

Your hands found the other boot, a sigh escaping your lips at how much the tight fitting accessory is going to fit. “You’re tripping up, Atwater,” It glided up with little effort, giving you the chance to cross your legs and look across the room. “I can see Ruzek getting on your ass already.”

“Can you stop with-”

“Or is Halstead sending a sly smirk at you?”

Your light heartedness has no place in the backlit changing room and even little place in a situation like this. Joking about your boyfriend’s friends finding out about his relationship, with you standing there dressed like a hooker, all while working an undercover op...you should’ve stuck with commenting about how the color of the dress did absolutely nothing for your eyes.

Still, Kevin would’ve found a way to call you out. He was quiet but that just meant he spent more time listening. He was done with your ill timed jokes.

“Sorry.�� You bit your lip, knowing you pinched a nerve. You didn’t know what to worry about more - the way you just embarrassed yourself in front of a member of the Intelligence Unit or how you insulted your boyfriend.

You hated that the latter took priority.

You found Kevin’s eyes, too dark to read. But the look he was giving you - an analytical gaze mixed with what looked like frustration with the furrow in his brow - had you resorting back to your go-to.

“We uniforms aren’t used to working anyone other than a partner.”

You could hear the worry in your voice growing as each word entered the space. If the tone didn’t solidify his assumption, the choked laugh you gave did it. Nothing said “Can I do this?” like a meek laugh.

Girlfriends worried.

Cops did no such thing.

Straightening your posture you released your hair held in a tight ponytail. Shaking it out, you offered a smile. “Having your team at my disposal just got to my head for a second.”

Kevin pursed his lips, his arms crossed defensively over his chest. He looked great, done up in his own undercover wardrobe. Of course, his wasn’t as extreme as yours.

You were pretending to be a hooker. Short dress, fishnet stockings and heels that were nearly half your height. And that wasn’t including the heel. You hadn’t looked in the mirror after Trudy bombarded you. The amount of lipstick you could just feel on you made you want to wipe it off.

Kevin on the other hand was just supposed to be him. Tall and handsome, a drink of water to fit in right among the elites of this Hookah Bar you were raiding. Minus the badge, you could’ve sworn this look of a blazer and dark jeans had made an appearance at your front door. As well as your bedroom floor at one point or another.

He walked forward, hands finding your shoulders gently, his eyes pouring into yours. He took your breathe away. Or maybe that was the anxiety creeping up on you.

“We’re not at your disposal. We’re on your side.” You couldn’t help but lean into his palm as it crept up your shoulder. “We have your back.”

“Better you than this dress.”

Again, he didn’t find it funny. You sighed, nodding in all seriousness. “You have my back.”

Giving up on the idea of convincing him with a look of complete and utter confidence (you were saving that for the mission) you strode past him, grabbing the furry white jacket off the end of the bench.

On your way, you gave him some of the rope to tug at.

“That easy to tell I’m nervous?” You asked, slipped the fur over your shoulders.

He followed your steps, the pink handbag looking teeny in his grasp. “You uniforms got no damn poker face.”

You chuckle at that, feeling better with him in a joking mood. It was forced, you could tell by the way his tongue was sticking out between his lips, but you didn’t call it out. Humor came to everybody in their own ways. Yours was easier to cling to.

“Yeah, well without a uniform I’m sure it’ll get better.” You accepted the bag, twirling it in your fingers.

“Better?” Kevin asked with offense. “Gonna be the best. Why else would we bring you up?” He whispered in your ear as you made your way to the garage.

You pretended to think for a second before turning around, tiptoeing backwards and tracing his collar.

“For you to oggle me.”

The sound of the door opening snapped you back to reality. This was work. You might’ve been pretending to be a hooker but you weren’t on the job yet. Definitely not with a colleague who you would never do such a thing with.

Kevin caught the door, holding it open for you. As you walked past you gave your best respectable-just-another-day-in-the-office smile. But upon his next words, it was hard to keep it up.

“Like I’d show them I’m slumming it with you.”

----

Slumming it, you were definitely not.

You had quested the expensive dress placed in your locker. Why did a hooker did a $500 piece of clothing that barely covered her ass? Because as a high class hooker, expensive taste breeds....expensive tasters.

Men. With money.

But there was only one man you wanted.

He had money, sure.

But he also had guns.

A whole warehouse and business of illegal firearms. Chicago, ever the “Heart of America” was this guy’s selling point. Everything shipped here and then shipped out.

But a man he was. A man with needs. Expensive needs on short time. Besides, he had cash to burn. Made sense he booked it to this club, paid for a girl, had his way with her, and then was onto a business deal with a couple AK-47s by dawn.

Lucky you, getting a front row seat to it all.

You really hoped all you got was a seat. You really didn’t want to have to go to bed with this guy.

Jay would hopefully make sure of that. Imploring a deal on this guy’s “night out”. Who could resist making some money while spending it on something as pretty as me?

You gulped, remembering your first date with Kevin. He paid for the meal, quoting something similar. He couldn’t believe I had said yes to going out. He insisted on paying.

Tough as nails he was in his bullet proof vest. Beneath it, a teddy bear with manners of every mother’s dream.

“Aye, mami, how you doing?”

You turned to the fourth? fifth? guy who approached you, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. He was security, like every other guy who had hit on you yet, and not your target.

They really thought protecting their bosses wasn’t their job. Trying to catch the runner ups was their priortiy.

“Looking for something a bit better than that.” You heard Ruzek say over the comms.

“She’s got standards,” You looked over your shoulder toward Kevin, posted at a table near by. He sent a quick wink before finishing his statement. “As every girl should.”

“High ones, too.” You whispered.

You knew he was rolling his eyes, more so at you chiming in than your hint at your secret boyfriend’s height, but missed it since your view became full by another presence.

“Hi to you, too.”

Bingo.

You smiled at the man you had waiting for all night. One glance at his opening jacket, shimmering from the gun strapped in on both sides, and you knew this was the one. You’d been studying his face for weeks, of course. But nothing said arms dealer like...arms.

Arms that you felt wrapping around you.

Arms that you had to embrace.

It wasn’t the guy that had you nervous. Or the situation. Hell, you felt fine pretending to be a hooker. You had your team behind you.

You also had your boyfriend watching. That’s what made you resistance to accepting the embrace, taking in the fluttery whispers, and nodding at the invitation to his booth.

It was one thing to go undercover and flirt. A whole other when doing it in front of the one person you were undercover with and wanted to flirt with.

You were a cop first, you reminded yourself as you sat down on the plush velvet sofa. You were a cop, you repeated at lips found your neck.

Where the hell was Jay? Swooping in to make this deal? Get you out of this?

“Hey man, hate to intrude here.”

You froze for the first time at the sound of that voice.

A voice you loved to hear. But not here. Not with some other guy all up on you.

The dealer let his grip loosen on you and as he turned toward the newest addition to the booth you got your first clear look at it.

Your secret boyfriend.

Currently playing an undercover role he was not assigned to. All while you were undercover as a hooker attempting to get in good with a well known criminal.

The rest of the team was having just as much of a frenzy on your ear piece. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Jay panicking, not so much as ten feet away.

Kevin must’ve beat him to it.

Something told you it wasn’t the want to be the bad guy. Rather, break up the bad guy and you.

He had your back. Too much this time.

The target felt the same way, attempting to shake him off and coming back to you for more.

Your eyes met Kevin’s - more hallow than earlier - over the shoulder of the suspect. It sent you freezing again. What were you to do? Blow cover to save a relationship just as hidden? Or keep this going and lose something you never would’ve really had?

“I like seeing you work.” You giggled, gently pushing him off of you. Your eyes glimmered with fake admiration (really anxiety bubbling up) but it did the trick. You didn’t even have to use your line about how you would work for him later.

Taking the bait, he spun and began chatting with Kevin.

Unfortunately, he liked his work and play mixing. A hand found your leg, circling your knee. Kevin’s gaze never left the dealer’s but you could tell it was killing him. The toothpick, which had been loosely hanging out his mouth earlier, was now being gritted together so loud you could hear it over the music.

What was more obvious than his clear discomfort? The hand sneaking its way up your leg. No amount of disco lights or smoke from nearby bongs could hide the manly grasp on your thigh.

Even when he lifted your skirt up you couldn’t flinch. He was so close to admitting it all. He’d skimmed the numbers and the details but if Kevin pressed a little bit harder...

“Tell me more.”

Kevin’s eyes had swiftly found the connection on your leg. It wasn’t obvious enough for concern but his tone was. It was distant. Unfocused. Everything a dealer didn’t want in a deal, no matter the environment.

“You don’t seem interested in enough.”

“I am.” You giggled.

Damn. You were too quick to jump. He gave you a disapproving look and you could see it all falling. Everything you had worked for. Gone because you were trying to protect this case more than your real relationship.

“Not as much as me, girl.” Kevin spat.

He caught both of your attention’s, scooting closer. “I want armory. I know you have it. I can swear on the things you’re gonna do to this girl tonight, you can get it to be by tomorrow.”

OK, you weren’t the only one putting work before romance.

The thought scared you for a second but you had more to worry about. Most importantly, the feverish squeeze of your thigh that bloomed from the exciting prospect of a business deal.

The guy said it himself, shaking hands with Kevin and giving all the details we needed for a case.

You were stunned how good this was going. It was all falling into place.

Kevin seemed just as shocked too, sitting there silently...which was very unlike the bold player he was pretending to be.

Of course, no story has a perfectly happy ending.

The fault in the plan, the lack of calling out the safe word to trigger the team flying in.

The word slumming (your choice) barely crossed your mind before the guy’s lips were on yours and he was hurting you with such force.

You felt trapped for what felt like eternity (with your boyfriend looking on at least) but what was really seconds before he was ripped off of you.

“Get your hands off of her!” Kevin threw the guy on the ground, the gun in his belt loaded and aimed at his head.

He looked back at you once his hands were up, breathing heavy. OK, it had messed with his head as much as yours.

A little too much, though.

Because the next thing you knew, Kevin was kicked to the ground and the dealer was grabbing his own gun.

Thankfully, you were wearing a uniform more fit for the job.

In seconds you clashed with the arms dealer, hitting down hard on his hand to realize the gun in his grasp while simultaneously grabbing the other pistol from his pocket. Just as you lifted it up to aim it, Kevin was forcing him onto the booth, hands behind his back.

“Chicago PD!” Had just left your lips as the rest of the team came by. You breathed out, no longer having to play it cool.

Kevin was also given a break when Jay came in to take him away. In two steps he was in front of you, releasing the gun from your hand and pulling you close.

“I’m never letting you out of that uniform ever again.” He muffled into your head before tipping your chin up.

You smiled, cutting the distance between your lips till they grazed his when you spoke. “You can try all you want but I know you love seeing me out of it.”

Kevin pulled your close, squashing whatever space lay between you two.

“Woah, what’s going on here?” Ruzek called out with a holler, bringing you both to reality.

Out of the corner of your eye. you saw Kevin stumble a hand flying over his head as he thought on his feet.

You took a step forward, a hand on Kevin’s chest. “Kevin is slumming it with me, a uniform.”

Laughs erupted from the team, Voight shaking his head.

Kevin saddled up beside you, pulling you close once again.

“How many times I gotta say I’m not slumming it with you?”

“A million. “You shrugged. “I did have to lower my very high standards for-”

You words went unfinished as his lips found yours again.

You didn’t mind, thought. There’d be another undercover case sooner or later. You could tell him then how it was you who lucked out.

The End

#kevin atwater #kevin atwater x reader #chicago pd #chicago pd fanfiction #chicago pd fanfic #chicago pd one shot #jay halstead #adam ruzek #hank voight #chicago pd nbc #kevin atwater one shot

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