#talk to friends? only if they’re in the car with you! even hands free can be dangerous bc you’re still ‘distracted’ by someone who can’t | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jtl-fics · 1 year

Text

Fluent Freshman - Part 06

Andrew is dragging FF across campus towards where he parked his car and he is kinda of concerned that FF is just like fully letting himself be dragged across campus. I’m talking full on Andrew has a grip on the back of his hoodie, FF is just staring up at the sky, FF’s feet don’t even attempt to stop Andrew from pulling him where he wants to go, and when Andrew looks back FF’s face is just :I

Which even Andrew can admit is kind of weird.

Meanwhile FF is just like ‘The ground hasn’t really gotten cold yet so I’m sure Captain Neil and Andrew could really go to town on the hole they’re going to bury me in. I wonder what gave me away? It was probably the fucking Russian Literature book. I didn’t even like the plot twist in that one anyways. Can’t BELIEVE I’m gonna die due to my love of trashy literature. Thanks Grandma. Wait I’m sorry grandma, I didn’t mean to be rude-“

“Hey Granny Smith! I’ve been looking for you!” A most loathed nickname coming from a most loathed voice. Andrew doesn’t stop towing FF because why the hell would he? FF has never been so grateful to be dragged to his death! Now if only Andrew would break his long standing and well-known absolute refusal to do anything more than walk at a brisk pace.

He sees his step-brother jogging up to him and FF almost turns to Andrew to ask if he could just kill him HERE so he doesn’t have to deal with his step-brother and THEN get stabbed to death in the forest? He can accept that he should have told Andrew and Captain Neil that he knows Russian and the death sentence that rightfully comes with that but like C’MON having to deal with his Step-brother is just cruel and unusual punishment!

His step brother catches up and in a way maybe all the mental torture he’s gone through since coming to Palmetto is a good thing! He really was a novice at the poker face before and now he’s a grand master champion of staring at something that’s gonna SUCK and pretending like he has no idea that it is.

“Whoa there Granny.” His Step brother grabs his arm and tugs him out of Andrew’s grasp. Andrew really had not been paying attention to whatever jack off had been yelling something about apples. So FF getting yanked out of his hand was actually his first indication since FF didn’t say or react at all before. “You’ve been dodging all of Dad’s calls y’know. You still haven’t sent anything that we asked you for, got any excuse for that?!” His step brother demands.

FF looks heavenward because this is, like, so embarrassing. He can feel people stopping and staring at them.

(They were staring before his Step-brother showed up because he was getting visibly dragged through campus by ANDREW MINYARD. Some of his friends who had seen it were already planning a memorial service and candle vigil)

“Nope.” Because he has nothing to say about whatever the hell his step brother is talking about.

“Mom’s heartbroken you know! You haven’t reached out to her once!” he says.

“I’ll get on that.”

“Are you going to get the stuff we asked you for?! We are family aren’t we? We’re not asking for a lot. Just for you to get tickets to your games for Dad’s colleagues, some autographs from your teammates, and a good word to that bleeding heart coach that we all should get the free ride you’re getting. That’s not too much right?!”

Andrew hasn’t intervened yet but now Andrew is under the impression that FF stopped hanging out because the kid’s family has been harassing him with calls and maybe this isn’t the first time they’ve come in person to campus. That’s why FF has been fading into the background. Andrew’s now under the impression that FF’s family has wanted him to use the Foxes (tickets, autographs, scholarships for his step brothers) and FF had just been pulling away so his asshole family wouldn’t bother the rest of them. That FF may not have been able to cut off contact completely because of a grandparent he was close to.

These are, in fact, the WRONG impressions of the situation at hand. The truth of the matter is that Wymack helped him get a new phone and phone number within 24 hours of getting to Palmetto, it was the one extra that he asked for in his contract and Palmetto is paying his phone bill now. The phone with the number his ‘family’ had just sits charging in a drawer on silent in Wymack’s desk because Wymack is INFINITELY petty when it comes to the things his Foxes are running from.

The other truth of the situation at hand is that Fluent Freshman’s grandma is the only member of his family he talks to regularly and he talks to her almost every single day of his life, she is the only person he can be completely honest with because she knows what a wimp he is and loves him regardless.

His Grandma is just an EXCELLENT actress. So when his ‘family’ comes over for answers she’ll sigh, stare longingly at a framed photo of FF, and look out the window with a single pre-staged tear in her eye. She wouldn’t give them his new number no matter what.

He loves his grandma even if it was her teaching him Polish, her native tongue, that lead to him getting interested in the other slavic languages that lead him down the deadly path to Russian.

ANYWAYS.

Andrew is under some very wrong impressions but he is also under one very correct impression and it’s the impression that’s the most important anyways.

Fluent Freshman’s family is what made him a Fox and Fluent Freshman’s family are therefore the enemy.

Except FF doesn’t give Andrew the time to pull out his knife, “No, I don’t wanna do that. Bye Greg.” He says, pulls out his student ID, slaps it on a nearby scanner for a STUDENT ONLY building and power walks inside leaving Andrew and his Step Brother alone.

The door shuts behind FF with a distinctive lock and Greg looks at Andrew his face purpling from anger, “You’re going to let me in there and-“

Andrew now has plenty of time to pull out his knife. “You’re going to what?”

Greg swallows and in a show of excellent survival instincts runs the fuck away.

Andrew watches him run before he turns back to the STUDENT ONLY building and heads in himself. He finds FF just inside the doors and he looks tired sitting there against the wall. FF doesn’t say anything to Andrew, doesn’t even acknowledge that he’s there. Andrew takes a spot on the wall across from him. People give them weird looks but Andrew is fine with waiting.

He doesn’t mind just sitting in silence with FF again even if the circumstances aren’t what they usually are. So they sit.

FF has blue-screened. The stress of his impending death, of his step brother showing up and saying crazy shit, he blacked out a bit from the stress of being between Andrew and Greg and has no memory of what he said before he walked into this building and then there’s the fact that he just WALKED INTO SOME RANDOM CAMPUS BUILDING (oh god he’s probably not supposed to be in here but Greg is definitely still loitering outside maybe security will be gentle if he just sits right by the exit so they don’t have to go far to kick him out? Maybe he should move near a Different exit so Greg doesn’t see him get tossed like yesterday’s trash? Well he already sat down so now it’s embarrassing if he gets up to just go SIT AT SOME OTHER EXIT.)

So he’s taking a moment to reboot.

Unfortunately his ability to have internal conversations and recognize that someone is there with him is one of the last things that loads.

“It’s fine. I’ve always been the leftover kid. I don’t care that they don’t care. I don’t care either.” He says and it’s a mantra he’s repeated for almost a decade now.

It is definitely not something he thought he was saying out loud in the presence of Andrew Minyard and it is also definitely not something he was SAYING to Andrew Minyard but how the hell would ANDREW MINYARD KNOW THAT WHEN FF IS STARING STRAIGHT AT HIM WHEN HE SAYS IT.

So Andrew thinks it’s the explanation FF is offering about his step brother / family. If there’s one thing Andrew knows the feeling of it is being the ‘leftover’ kid.

The one-sided kinship grows while FF is working on rebooting his vision and getting his heart rate down to a BPM that wouldn’t have medical doctors concerned.

Finally, FF blinks his vision has returned back to him, sees Andrew Minyard across the hall from him, and, by the grace of GOD considering his fried nerves, FF does not flinch.

Andrew doesn’t make any move to grab him and FF decides to take this momentary reprieve that his executor is granting him to shoot off a text to his grandma. “I am so grateful for all the love you have given me throughout my life. I think I’m going to see Dad in the next few hours so please let me know if there’s anything you want me to say to him.” Is what he sends.

(This grandma has gotten almost this exact same text when he had an oral presentation last week. Her grandson is a wimp but she loves him.)

“Are we still going on that drive?” He asks his affairs settled. It’s nice that Andrew let him have a breakdown here and even let him text his grandma his final thoughts. He was willing to use his blood to write out the message but where would he get the paper?

“Yeah, we can go on that drive.” Andrew gets up and offers his hand to FF who looks at it for a long moment KNIVES. THOSE ARE KNIVES. HE USUALLY CONCEALS THEM BETTER? IS THIS HIS WAY OF SAYING HE’S GOING TO BE REALLY MESSY WITH MY DEATH? OH GOD HE’S NOT READY.

(Andrew didn’t really take the time to put his knives back in his arm bands properly because he figured he needed to catch FF before the kid disappeared again. He didn’t think he’d find him just inside the door.)

FF pushes himself up onto his feet.

They get to the Maserati and FF was AWARE that Andrew had a nice car but he hadn’t pieced it together that he’d be doing his last ride in such a nice car. He briefly pauses by the trunk wondering if he should just save Andrew the trouble and climb in himself?

Andrew sees FF pause at the car and figures he’s just being polite not touching Andrew’s stuff without Andrew’s permission. FF is just that kind of guy.

“The passenger seat is available.” Andrew says and alright cool Andrew wants to threaten him first that makes sense.

Except Andrew doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t drive them to a remote location. He’s just driving around Palmetto and FF does not think that Andrew is planning on crashing the car to kill him (He has unfortunately heard Aaron and Andrew have a fight in German when he was waiting for his own appointment with Betsy so he also Is aware what happened to their mom no matter HOW HARD he tries to forget that he knows.)

It’s just actually kind of a nice drive?

“He called you Granny Smith.” Andrew states. (Wondering if THAT is the elusive first name)

“I’m close with my Grandma. My last name is Smith. They’re not that creative.”

“Hm.” (Dammit)

Andrew watches as FF’s shoulders eventually relax until he’s almost falling asleep in the Mas and decides that the drive has done it’s job.

Eventually Andrew parks in front of the tower, tells him to respond to his texts from at least him and Neil, and he is released feeling very much like one of those animals that were released back into the wild after being tagged.

He texts his grandma later “NVM it wasn’t that bad.”

Per your requests:

@i-have-three-feelings @blep-23 @dreamerking27

#Fluent Freshman AU #Andrew to Neil later: His Family was the issue.#Neil: So it's not something we did?#Andrew: No. He wanted to take a ride with me #Neil: Oh that's great.#Nicky sitting back watching this unfold: It's like a Daytime Soap Opera except I get to be one of the characters.#AFTG #AFTG AU #Andreil #AFTG OC #AFTG fic #My Fics #FF - Pt. 06

652 notes · View notes

proxima-writes · 1 year

Text

Title: cruel summer | chapter 2

Pairing: Joel Miller/Female Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ MDNI)

Chapters: 6/6

Read on AO3 | Join the tag list

Summary:

Joel takes a contracting job renovating a master bedroom and bathroom while the homeowners are away for the summer on a cruise.

He wasn’t expecting their twenty-three year old daughter and the thoughts he’d have about her.

Content warnings: age difference (15 years), explicit sexual content

Additional tags: oral sex (m receiving), masturbation, dirty talk, pet names, angst, internalized guilt, Joel Miller is emotionally constipated but Trying His Best. Let me know if I’ve missed anything!

Joel stops eating lunch with you after that day in the kitchen. You try not to let it affect you, but you miss him. You miss the easy conversation and the way he makes you laugh without even trying. It’s hard to focus on studying with him constantly on your mind, especially when he’s so close but just out of reach.

A few days pass without any interaction with him at all. He comes inside and immediately heads upstairs and the only reason you even know he’s there is the heavy footsteps above your head.

So you’re surprised when one day he comes downstairs and heads straight towards you, stopping a respectable distance away. He clears his throat and runs a hand nervously through his hair.

“Sarah’s daycare just called. I forgot it was a half day for them, I gotta go pick her up,” he says. “I’ve got grout mixed upstairs. I’ll come back as soon as I can, but I’ll have to see if Tommy can come watch her.”

“Oh. Why don’t…you can just…bring her here? I can watch her, if you need,” you reply. He stops his nervous fidgeting, hands dropping to his side.

“Really?” He asks. “You don’t have to do that, I don’t want to interrupt your studyin’.”

“Not getting much done today, anyways,” you say pointedly. He presses his lips together.

“Right. Well, uh, if you’re sure. I’ll go get her now.”

“Why don’t you give me your cell number. You can call me if you change your mind and are going to take longer getting back here,” you suggest.

He nods, digging his phone from his pocket and handing it to you. You pass him yours from the table. After entering your number, you exchange devices again. You check your contacts, biting back a smile seeing the entry titled “Joel (contractor)”.

As if you wouldn’t know who he was.

“Okay, well. I’ll be back,” he says, heading out the door with a lingering look.

————

Sarah is sitting in her car seat, asking Joel a thousand questions about where they’re going.

“Daddy’s gotta work, sweetheart. But I’ve got a very nice friend who’s goin’ to watch you while he’s busy,” he explains. “We’re going to her house.”

“Oh. Does she have toys?” She asks.

“I’m not sure. She might.”

“I hope so. Does she have snacks?”

“Probably.”

Her questions continue in the same manner until he pulls into your driveway. She frees herself from her car seat and hops from the truck, running to the front door faster than Joel can catch up. She’s bouncing excitedly on the balls of her feet as he pushes the door open, but she clings to his arm as he enters the hallway.

Joel checks the kitchen but finds it empty. He calls out your name.

“In the living room!” You shout back.

He’s surprised to find you surrounded by a couple large storage totes, digging through one and pulling out another box stuffed with what looks like fabric. You look up when they enter and smile brightly.

“Hi! You must be Sarah,” you say to his little girl, giving her your name as well. “Do you like Barbie dolls?”

Sarah nods, her grip loosening from her dad’s arm as you start to pull some Barbie dolls from one bin. Joel watches you tell his daughter about how they’d been yours when you were her age, and that they’re very excited to have someone play with them again. You open the box of clothes and accessories, Sarah’s face lighting up at all the options.

Watching you with his daughter feels like a fist to the gut. You’re so attentive and kind, patiently explaining the different dolls to her and their backstories that he just can’t look away.

It’s not until you look up at him and your smile falters the slightest bit that he clears his throat and says, “Alright, sweetie, you all good here?”

“Yes, daddy,” she says dutifully, focused on changing the outfit on one of the dolls you’d given her.

“I’ll be upstairs if you need anything,” he says, more to you than to Sarah. You only nod in response.

He trudges up the stairs with a lump in his throat and a vise grip around his heart.

_______

Sarah might just be the best kid you’ve ever met. She’s smart and funny, making up the silliest stories for the Barbie’s to act out. You can see why Joel is such a softie for her.

“Do you have anything else we can play with?” She asks after about an hour of playing with the dolls.

“Why don’t we head outside?” You ask, picking the toys up off the floor.

“Okay! Can I show you my cartwheel?” She asks, jumping up from the floor and trailing after you towards the back door.

“Uh, absolutely!”

She runs full speed out the sliding glass door, bypassing the pool and heading straight for the grassy yard beyond. “Watch! Watch!” She calls out to you as she plants her hands to the ground and shows off her cartwheel.

“Wow, that’s awesome, Sarah!” You call out. You dig in the pool storage and pull out a forgotten soccer ball that you’re pretty sure has been in there since high school. It’s a little flat, but it’ll do.

Sarah continues to do cartwheels through the yard while you kick the ball around. She catches sight of what you’re doing and runs over to join, watching as you demonstrate some of the footwork from high school sitting in the recesses of your mind.

Sarah eventually starts to complain about being hungry, so you head back inside to set up a snack for her. “Give me one second, sweetie, I’ll be right back.”

You jog up the stairs and head to your parent’s room. Joel’s wiping the excess grout from the shower tile he’s just laid when you tap on the doorframe to get his attention. He looks up at you in surprise, dropping the wet sponge in the bucket and standing.

“Hey. I was just about to make a snack for Sarah and I wanted to make sure she doesn’t have any allergies or anything?” You ask. He stares at you for a moment before taking a step closer, hand wrapping around the back of your neck and tugging your lips to his.

You’re surprised but your traitorous body responds before your brain can, your lips moving hungrily against his as you wrap your arms around his shoulders. He presses you back against the door frame, his calloused and slightly damp hands coming up to grip your face and angling it to his liking. His tongue slips past your lips and tangles with yours, making you whimper.

He pulls away all too soon, smoothing a hand against your hair as he stares into your eyes, his breathing quick and labored.

“No…no allergies,” he finally says. You huff out a laugh.

“Right…you could have just said that,” you joke. He cracks a smile.

“Get back downstairs. I’ll be done soon.”

________

Joel tried to do the respectable thing. He really did. He was going to let that one slip up be left in the past, move on with a perfectly normal working relationship. No more lunches, no more lingering in the doorway to talk to you when he comes in the morning and you’re still sleepy, sipping your coffee that’s more sugar than anything. No more after dark thoughts of you as he lays in bed palming his cock. Just him and the bathroom remodel.

But then you’d offered to look after Sarah, and you could have easily stuck her in front of the TV while you went about your day, but you gave her your undivided attention. He’d watched from the window as you showed her some fancy soccer footwork that he didn’t even know you knew how to do. You cheered for her when she landed six cartwheels in a row and then laughed when she crashed to the ground, dizzy and giggling. He’d watched you run around the yard with her on your back, a pool noodle held in her hand as she commanded you to charge forward.

And just like it always does when it comes to you, the weak walls of his resolve crumble around him.

To top it all off, you came upstairs to ask him the most innocent but thoughtful question and goddamnit, he can’t do this. He had to kiss you.

Now that you’re no longer standing in front of him, the logical part of his brain kicks back on and the guilt returns. What the hell is expecting out of this? He’s here temporarily, for a job, and so are you. You’ll return to school at the end of the summer and he’ll be here…what? Pining after a girl fifteen years his junior who could have any number of men her age falling at her feet?

Joel scrubs a hand over his face. Much as he hates to admit it, he’s going to have to man up and have a real conversation about all this. He pulls his phone from his pocket and shoots a text to Tommy to see if he can come over and keep an eye on Sarah tonight after she goes to bed.

________

Joel comes down about thirty minutes later and Sarah runs towards him, throwing her arms around his legs and hugging me tightly.

“We had so much fun, daddy! She watched me do all my cartwheels and we played calgary!”

You snort. “Cavalry, sweetie,” you correct.

“That!” She exclaims. Her head tilts back to look up at her dad with big brown eyes so full of love it makes your stomach flip.

“It sounds like you had a great day, baby,” Joel says, running a hand over her curly brown hair. “It’s time we head out.”

She pouts and Joel hits her with a look that’s so quintessentially dad that you have to bite back a laugh. The young girl sighs dramatically before stomping out of the room towards the front door.

Joel reaches a hand out towards you and you step forward, slipping your hand into his. “Can I come over later? To talk?” He asks quietly, fingers tangling with yours.

“S-sure,” you reply. He gives you one last nod before he lets go of your hand, heading out the door after Sarah.

_______

Tommy comes over around 8:00 that evening, after Sarah’s in bed following another chapter of James and the Giant Peach. He lets himself in, joining Joel in the kitchen where he’s cleaning up after dinner.

“Where ya off to this late, old man?” Tommy asks, opening the freezer and peering inside. “No ice cream?”

“Get outta my fridge,” Joel snaps, whacking him with the dish towel in his hands. “And none of your business, nosy lil shit.”

Tommy holds his hands up in surrender. “Geez, touchy.”

“I’ll be back in a few hours. Don’t go riflin’ through the pantry, either, I already hid the cookies.”

Tommy’s annoyed groan follows him out the door. In the truck, he finds your name in his contacts and opens a new text thread.

On my way.

_______

Your phone chimes on the coffee table, screen lighting with a message notification from Joel letting you know he’s on his way. It’s the first time he’s ever contacted you by phone, and you smile down at the brand new text thread despite the dry, no nonsense message.

You fight the urge to reply, fidgeting in your seat with nerves. You have nothing else to focus your attention on as you wait for Joel to show up. You’ve already cleaned up after dinner and your second glass of wine sits on the coffee table. You’ve changed into your pajamas, a pair of sleep shorts and an oversized UT t-shirt you’d stolen from an ex-boyfriend.

The man himself puts you out of your misery with a soft knock at your front door. You open it to find Joel standing there in another pair of jeans, dark wash instead of the light wash work pair he usually wears, and a soft looking flannel, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans.

“Hey,” he says, shifting his weight from foot to foot. His eyes roam your body, every place they linger tingling under his gaze. “Can I come in?”

“Oh, yeah, of course. I’m surprised you didn’t just use the key.”

“Key is for the job. This ain’t part of the job.”

“Right,” you mumble, trailing behind him as he heads for the kitchen. “You want anything to drink? I’ve got beer.”

“Sure.”

You grab a can from the fridge and carry it with you to the living room, setting it beside your glass of wine on the coffee table. You take a seat, folding your legs under you. Joel stands near the doorway, like he’s not sure whether to sit or make an escape.

Finally, he joins you on the couch, a healthy cushion length of distance between your bodies. He smooths his palms over his thighs before grabbing the can of beer and popping the top.

“So…you want to talk?” You ask, breaking the tense silence. He sighs.

“I wanted to apologize. For what happened the other day,” he says, staring at the can of beer like it’ll say the words for him. “I shouldn’t have left you like that. After.”

You remain quiet. It had been shitty, getting left behind, all the adrenaline leaving your body and making you feel untethered. You’d cleaned yourself up and hidden in your room the rest of the afternoon, curled up in your bed.

“I don’t know what I’m doin’ here,” he confesses.

“Sure felt like you knew what you were doing,” you comment. Your smile is smug as you watch his cheeks heat.

“What I mean is,” he continues, throwing you a sharp look that reminds you of the one he’d used on Sarah that afternoon, “I don’t know what you’d want with a guy like me, baby. You’re goin’ back to school in a month, you’ve got dreams and goals I couldn’t touch with a ten foot pole, and you’re just a kid—“

“Don’t call me kid, Joel. I’m a grown fuckin’ woman, and I don’t need you making choices for me out of your own guilt.”

Joel clenches his jaw, his grip on the can of beer going tight enough to dent the aluminum.

“I don’t feel guilty about wanting you, Joel. I don’t know why you’re making such a big deal about it. We don’t have to define anything, we just…go at this with no rules. See what happens.” You shuffle closer to him, walking across the cushions on your knees until you’re kneeling beside him.

“No rules?” He asks. You can practically taste your victory.

You lean closer, bringing your palm up to turn his face towards you, his lips parting slightly as his eyes search yours.

“No rules,” you whisper.

________

This didn’t go at all as Joel had planned. He’d been intent on coming over here, apologizing for his behavior, and explaining that he wouldn’t be sending you any further mixed signals. That all of this had to stop.

But instead, he’s wrapping an arm around your waist and hauling you into his lap, his lips pressed to yours to swallow your gasp. His hands shift the long hem of your shirt out of his way so that he can grip your ass and drag you closer.

Your fingers find the buttons of his shirt, fumbling to get them undone. Your mouth leaves his to plant kisses to his jaw and down his neck, your teeth nipping as you go. Joel groans your name, his hips flexing as you push apart his shirt to expose his chest to your greedy hands.

Your nails scrape down his pecs, catching on his nipples and making him hiss, his head dropping back against the back of the couch.

Your weight leaves his lap and he looks up, ready to complain and haul your ass back where it belongs. But you’re dropping to your knees between his spread legs and looking up at him through your lashes as your hands smooth up his thighs.

“I want you in my mouth, Joel,” you tell him, voice pitched low. “I think about it a lot. What it would be like to suck your cock.”

“God, baby, I think about it, too,” Joel confesses, hips thrusting as you undo his belt and fly. He helps you shove his pants down far enough that his cock springs free, slapping lewdly against his stomach. “Put your mouth on me, sweetheart.”

Joel should have known you wouldn’t make this easy. You don’t listen to his plea. Instead, you wrap your delicate little hand around his throbbing length and give it a few leisurely pumps that have him gritting his teeth.

Then, holding his dick steady, you lean forward to grace him with just one little kitten lick to his head, tongue swiping through the bead of precum that’s already pooled at the slit. Your eyelids flutter and you hum appreciatively and Joel has to fucking will himself not to come all over your pretty face.

“You’re such a lil fuckin’ tease, aren’t ya,” he bites out. You give him your most saccharine smile, the mischievous glint in your eye unmistakable.

He places a hand on your head, fingers flexing against your scalp but not pressing or directing. No, this is your show and he knows that.

You lick up the underside of his cock before finally, finally taking him into your mouth. He groans at the sensation, the tight wet heat the best thing he’s ever felt.

At least for now.

You show him no mercy, taking him as far back into your throat as you can before coming up for air and circling the head with your tongue before diving back down. You gag a couple times, each time making your throat tighten around the head of his cock and making him moan out your name.

Joel catches movement below and lifts his head further to see your hand wiggle its way into those little sleep shorts you’re wearing. “Are you wet, baby? Did you soak yourself just sucking my cock?”

You nod, mouth too full to respond with words. You look so goddamn pretty with your mouth stretched around his thick length, your lashes wet with tears.

“You wanna come with me, sweet girl?” You nod. “Listen to me, then. Slide just one finger into that pretty cunt for me, okay?”

You nod again, doing as you’re told. He can’t see anything past this giant t-shirt you’re wearing and he growls in frustration.

“Bet that feels good, huh, darlin’? Ridin’ your fingers with my cock stuffed down your throat. Add another finger for me, that’s it.” You moan around his length, the vibrations nearly sending him over the edge.

“Can you take a third finger for me? We gotta get you nice and stretched if you’re gonna take my cock someday soon.” You give a little whimper as your motions pause while you work a third finger into your pussy. “That’s it, Christ, you look like fuckin’ sin, sweetheart.”

Eyes shut, you work your hand in the same rhythm as your mouth. When you start to get sloppy, Joel begins to thrust into your mouth.

“Focus on yourself, that’s it. You just worry about makin’ yourself come all over your fingers and I’ll worry about fillin’ this gorgeous fuckin’ mouth.”

With your other hand free, you use it to rub fast circles on your clit. It only takes Joel a few shallow thrusts before he’s spilling down your throat and you’re swallowing around him as you reach your own peak and crash through the ecstasy.

Joel waits until your limbs start to go limp before hauling you back into his lap, wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug.

“Wow,” you mumble against his shoulder, making him grin. You pull back to look at him and Joel hates the bit of fear hiding in the back of your gaze. “You don’t…have to leave right now, right?”

“No, baby, I can stay with you a bit longer.”

Joel’s fingers scratch lightly down your back, making you wiggle appreciatively. He fiddles with the hem of your shirt.

“Where’s this shirt from?” He asks innocently.

“Oh, it’s an ex’s shirt,” you murmur sleepily. Joel hums.

“Maybe I have one rule,” Joel says just as you’re nodding off.

“Hmm?”

“We’re getting rid of this fuckin’ shirt.”

#joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #joel x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #no use of y/n #joel miller #joel tlou #tlou fic #tlou fanfiction

698 notes · View notes

eoieopda · 5 months

Note

🙏🏻 This is my first time submitting a request because I can’t stop imagining Dino helping his drunk BFF home while secretly being in love with her 🧎🏼‍♀️Please if you have time!

superpower

summary: not all heroes wear capes, but chan would probably do so if you asked. pairing: lee chan x reader type: drabble genre: fluff au: friends to ?, pining word count: 1.4k (oops) rating: pg15 — still, minors do not have my consent to interact. cw: alcohol/drunkenness, obvi; no pronouns or gendered language is used for reader. a/n: not even remotely proofread (double oops), but i still love this down-bad doofus, so i hope you do, too!

“I’m not saying I have superpowers, but I’m not not saying it.”

Your eyes are blinking a little more slowly than usual, but the unimpressed look you fire off at Chan can’t be missed.

“Can you just —” A hiccup cuts your question in half. You frown with your whole face just to make it clear how serious you are. “Hold my hand? It’s wobbly.”

Chan knows you’re referring to the sidewalk — where you stand and sway along to music that isn’t playing — but that description fits his knees, too.

He hopes you’re too busy pouting at him to notice the way he wipes his palms against his jeans, afraid you’ll notice how nervous you make him. You start to lean a bit too heavily to one side for his liking, though; and he thinks it’s safe to bet that you’re not noticing much of anything.

That settles it.

The second he envelopes your hand in his, you take it a step further, tugging him close enough that you can slot yourself under his arm.

“Smell nice,” you mumble from his side. “‘s that the new stuff? From the place?”

Now, Chan is the one that’s blinking slowly. He was as drunk as you were until you needed him, and despite his sobering up on a dime — which is a superpower, thank you very much — his processing speed is lagging. You nudge him with your elbow, as if that’ll make what you just said make sense.

“Ahhh!” He plays along, making a big show of realizing things. “Yes, that place. By the thing, right?”

You nod. “Exactly.”

Behind you both, the Uber that dumped you back at your place pulls away from the curb. Three beats later, you tilt your head and cheer “goodbye” at a long-gone Kia. He feels his heart swell three sizes in chest.

“You like it?” He redirects you because he’s a little bit greedy for your praise — and also because he bought this cologne with the hope that you’d compliment it. Chuckling, he notes, “Considering how much I’m propping you up right now, you’ll probably end up smelling like me.”

When you smile and mutter, “Good,” Chan suddenly feels weightless.

It takes some concentrated effort, but he manages to guide you up the front steps to your apartment building. It takes significant concentrated effort to corral you into the elevator once you clear the threshold. You would’ve spent your night talking the doorman’s ear off, otherwise, providing a dramatic retelling of every single step you took over the last few hours. It takes everything Chan has not to laugh at the relieved sigh he gets in thanks for intervening, although it’s hardly altruistic to want your rambling to himself.

Surrounded by the metallic walls of the elevator car, you point to your joint reflection and muse, “Someone’s awful smiley this evening.”

Chan makes eye contact without having to tilt his head. His brain works overtime to churn out a response that isn’t self-incriminating, but the only thought ricocheting around his brain relates to how cute you look, nestled into him.

With a ding, your reflection is gone. The moment goes with it, and without a barrier in front, so do you — like a bat out of hell.

“Oh, my god,” you wail when your apartment door comes into view. “I thought I’d never see you again!”

Chan chases after you, arriving embarrassingly out-of-breath — and more than a little fond — just in time to watch you wrestle your keys out of your pocket. They clatter to the floor the second they��re free. You groan, bereft at the loss.

“Stay here,” he says firmly with a finger pointed because he knows you, knows you’ll take one or both of you out of commission if you don’t heed his warning.

Your eyes cross a little bit as you stare down the barrel of it, but you listen, thankfully; and he’s able to pick up your slack without anyone receiving a concussion. He’s able to usher you into your own home without further incident, too.

Once again: superpowers.

The task of kicking your shoes off is apparently too much to ask of you, so you wander off to your bedroom without even trying. His Nikes are discarded so hurriedly that they barely hit your mat by the time he takes off after you. The second he catches up, he wins the pleasure of watching you flop backwards onto your mattress.

Funny, he thinks. His heart makes a similar thwump when you smile at him the way you are right now.

Gesturing to the feet dangling off the edge of your bed, he laughs. “Can I please help you?”

You shoot him with dual-wielded finger guns. He takes that as a yes, please, and gets to work on the triple knots you managed to install in your laces.

“Chan?”

He hums in acknowledgment without looking up, too confounded by your drunken rope-work to take his eyes off his fingers.

Were you a sailor in a past life?

A little louder and a lot more pathetically, you whine, “Chan,” adding several seconds’ worth of the vowel sound in the process.

Chan has no option but to look up at you. As far as he’s concerned, he’s got no choice but to smile with all of his teeth, too. “You rang?”

“You’re so nice.” It’s supposed to be a whisper, he suspects, but it sounds much more like a shout. “How?”

His bemused snort is disguised by the sound of your right shoe hitting the floor.

“I mean it!” You laugh — like he’d ever doubt you — and smack your palms against your duvet for emphasis. “Like, hello? Good boy alert!”

That — well, that does something to Chan that he’s not willing to unpack right now. Instead, he shucks off your other shoe, bites back his smile, and sits back on his heels.

For a minute, the two of you stay that way: you gazing at him, him gazing right back at you. In every second that slips by in comfortable silence, he works to convince himself that the twinkle in your eye is a byproduct of the shots you took, nothing more. You’re smiling at him like that because you won’t have to sleep in your shoes tonight.

Right?

You nibble thoughtfully on your lower lip before your smile turns sheepish. “Chan?”

He’s not thinking that an angel gets its wings whenever you say his name, but he’s not not thinking that.

“The one and only,” he says with a nod, and he only cringes a little bit at his words, after the fact.

Whatever you want to say next seems to be stuck on its way out. In fact, you open and close your mouth twice to no avail. Patience is a virtue, and you are divine, so he waits there — on his knees, no less — and lets you take the lead. Your eyes flick from his face to the fidgeting fingers in your lap, then to the blank space at your side.

“It’s cold out,” you finally declare.

It’s July, but that’s neither here nor there.

“You shouldn’t have to walk home in this weather.”

The sky simply couldn’t be clearer, but Chan would take your word for it if you said that it was green.

“Maybe you should stay.”

He tries not to let the giddiness overtake him. Really, he does. He attempts to shrug nonchalantly, but it's more of a shiver than anything else, and he’s scrambling to his feet before he can chide himself for it.

You laugh — with your whole chest, no less — when he leaps into the spot beside you, settling flat on his back and grinning up at the ceiling. You’re still giggling when you mimic his graceless movements, still beaming when you turn your head to look at him. The air still feels electric, somehow, even after the laughter peters off.

A few moments pass, probably. He doesn’t notice them on their way out.

In a whisper that is actually a whisper, you say his name again, and it kicks off that wild thwump inside his chest.

“Yes?” He responds, much more quietly than his pulse in his ears.

You tug gently at the pillow under his head to draw attention to it. “You’ll probably end up smelling like me now.”

#svt #svt dino #lee chan #chan x reader #dino x reader #chan drabble #svt drabble #svt imagines #svt scenarios #jade writes #jade’s requests #lc #kvanity #re: superpower

185 notes · View notes

queen-of-the-avengers · 7 months

Text

Wolf In Sheep's Clothing

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2k

Warnings: tw: rape, tw: talk of being raped but not the act itself, tw: verbal abuse, tw: emotional abuse, john is a really bad person, super sweet bucky, relief and being free at the end

Summary: Ever since your failed one-night stand with John, you two have been in a "relationship". He won't let you leave and treats you like less than. Will you ever find your way out of this abuse cycle?

Squares Filled: romania (2021) for @star-spangled-bingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

The person staring back at you in the mirror is someone you don’t recognize. How did you get to this point in your life? You used to be so full of life and loved going out with your friends. Now? You’d rather stay in and not see a single person in fear they’re going to see who you really are: a weak bitch. At least, that’s what John tells you daily. Your eyes used to hold so much light but now they’re sunken in. Your skin used to be glowing but now is pale.

Thank God for makeup.

You paint your face to make yourself look happy, to conceal the tear stains away, and to make your skin shine like how it used to. Just as you put the final brush down, John walks in with a scowl on his face.

“You take fucking forever to get ready. The boys are waiting on you. You’re either ready in five minutes or I’m gonna leave you here and I’ll punish you when I get home.”

“I’m ready.”

You turn to him with a fake smile plastered on your face.

“Fucking finally. Come on.”

As soon as John leaves the room, your smile drops. This is getting to be very exhausting and you’re not sure how long you can do this for. Still, you grab your purse and meet John at the car. One of his good friends is hosting a small party with drinks and dinner, so he doesn’t live far from you and John. John has his hand on your thigh the entire ride as a sort of reminder. His touch makes you want to throw up, everything about him you hate, and he’s not a good person.

Not only is he mentally, verbally, and emotionally abusive toward you, but he crosses the line into physical abuse almost every night. He’s only hit you once out of anger but the physical abuse is sexual. One night a year ago, you were looking for a meaningless hookup to get over your ex and John had taken you back to his place. Everything was going great until the point where you two got into it. You backed down at the last second because you didn’t want to do that to yourself, but John didn’t take no for an answer.

He ended up raping you that night and has been almost every night after that. He became obsessed with you and had been for months before that, and now that he got his hands on you, he didn’t want to let you go.

He won’t let you leave, and you don’t know how to break this cycle.

You and John arrive at his friend’s house just as Bucky and Sam get there. It was John’s idea to invite them as a sort of “get to know my neighbors” type deal. He wants to prove to them that he’s just as capable of being Captain America as Steve was. Bucky isn’t going to go for his bullshit but Sam made him come here.

Bucky smiles when he sees you. He’s always thought you were too good for John but he’s kept his mouth shut because it seemed like you were happy in the relationship. However, when you pass by him to get into the house, he can see how terrified you are in your eyes.

“It’s good to see you two. I’m glad you could make it,” John smiles.

The worst thing about John is that he’s super charming and can convince a town full of people that he’s the good guy.

“Sam made me come.”

“Hush,” Sam says and whacks Bucky on the back of his head.

All four of you walk inside and greet the men who are already here. The only other woman who is here is one of John’s friend’s wife. You’d much rather go off on your own with the wife and make small talk but John keeps you by his side all night. Even as he’s talking to Bucky and Sam about his plans regarding Captain America, his arm is tightly wrapped around your waist. Bucky looks at you briefly and sees the look in your eyes. You’re smiling and agreeing with what John is saying but your eyes are telling him a different story.

Something is wrong here but he doesn't know what or how to help you.

Eventually, dinner is served and you’re seated next to John and the other woman. Bucky and Sam are on the other side of the table but Bucky’s eyes haven’t left you since you walked past him. It’s bugging him that he knows something is wrong without knowing exactly what it is. Everyone is eating and having a good time while you pick at your food cautiously. You can eat only what John approves of you to eat since he’s told you constantly that he doesn’t want you getting fat on him. If you look a certain way, he’ll force you to lose weight until you can fit into the clothes he buys you.

It’s your fault for eating too much anyway.

You’re not sure how the conversation ended up on languages, but John is always looking for an excuse to talk about this. You’ve pretty much tuned out this entire evening.

“I don’t know if you guys know this but Y/N can speak five languages, Romanian being one of them. It’s the one I find the most romantic.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I grew up with it,” you nod.

“Tell them how great I am in Romanian,” John chuckles.

The only other person at this table who can speak Romanian is Bucky. This is your chance. This is your chance to ask for some real help without alerting John you’re doing it.

“Am nevoie de ajutor. John nu mă lasă să-l părăsesc. Mă violează de câteva ori pe săptămână. Este abuziv fizic, verbal, mental și emoțional. Mi-e teamă că mă voi trezi într-o zi să-l văd cu un cuțit în față. Vă rog să mă ajutați. Nu mă va lăsa să plec.”

I need help. John won't let me leave him. He rapes me several times a week. He's abusive physically, verbally, mentally, and emotionally. I'm scared I'll wake up one day to see him with a knife in my face. Please help me. He won't let me leave.

You can’t look at anyone in the eyes, especially Bucky. Still, you peek a look at him to see shock written on his face. He understood every word you said but John is still smiling next to you as if you told everyone how loving and kind he is. John reaches over and grips your thigh gently to let you know he has all the power here.

“What did you tell them?”

You look at John and smile at him.

“How much you love me and how much you treat me like a princess. How much I love you.”

“See?” John chuckles. “She’s a keeper.”

John goes back to eating and chatter resumes as normal. However, Bucky can’t stop looking at you. You lock eyes with him before looking down and finishing your meal. The rest of the dinner goes by without a hitch and John is saying goodbye to his friends.

“I’m going to run to the bathroom real fast. I’ll be quick.”

John can’t be his usual self around company so he kisses the side of your head and allows you to do that.

“Hurry back.”

It’s a simple request but it holds so much threat behind it. You leave his side and head to the upstairs bathroom since that’s the only one working. As soon as the door is closed, you rush over to the toilet and throw up everything you ate. You want to cry until there is no more water in you but you have to remind yourself that John is waiting and he’ll get meaner the longer you make him wait.

Someone knocks on the door and the panic and fear in your body spike to a high level. You wipe your mouth with toilet paper and flush the toilet to make it seem like you’re done.

“Who is it?”

“Bucky.”

Relief replaces your panic but the fear is still there. He knows what John does. He knows everything. What is he going to do? You open the door carefully and he pushes his way inside with determination.

“Is what you said true?”

“I can’t do this here, Bucky.” If you talk about it openly, then you’re going to cry and John will know for sure something is up. “If I talk about it, I’ll cry and I won’t be able to stop.” You look at your reflection to make sure your makeup isn’t ruined. “I have to go. John is waiting.”

“Wait just a minute,” Bucky says and prevents you from leaving.

“Bucky, please. John will get angry. I need to leave now.”

“John is no longer going to hurt you.”

“What?”

“Stay here and wait for my return.”

Bucky leaves before you can say anything else. John sees Bucky come back alone and he’s getting a bit frustrated with you. He can’t do anything in front of his friends but just wait until he gets you home.

“Where’s Y/N?”

“In the bathroom. It sounded like she was washing her hands when I passed by. Can I talk to you for a second outside?”

John looks confused but follows Bucky outside nonetheless. John passes by Bucky while he stares at his vibranium arm. The metal flexes with power and Bucky is trying so hard to contain it.

“You want to know an interesting fact about me?” Bucky asks and looks at John.

“What?”

“Vorbesc fluent Romana.”

“What does that mean?”

“I’m fluent in Romanian.”

John immediately gets nervous. You told him you told everyone how much you love him but based on Bucky’s reaction, he knows you said something else.

“That’s cool, man. You and Y/N have something in common.”

With his vibranium arm, Bucky sends what’s supposed to be a deadly blow to the face. It would be deadly if the person he is punching didn’t have the super soldier serum in him. John crashes into the car behind him and sets off the car alarm. Everyone inside rushes outside to see what the commotion is.

“Never lay a hand on her again!” Bucky yells angrily.

Bucky sends another hard blow with his flesh hand to the side of John’s face. This is when the fight or flight response in John kicks in. He starts to fight Bucky back but there is no use in stopping the Winter Soldier. They both have the serum in them but Bucky has always been and will always be stronger than John. Bucky grabs John’s collar and pulls him up to his feet only to slam him to the concrete down below. Bucky punches John’s chest so hard with his metal arm that John’s ribs break and he coughs up blood.

“Hey! What the hell is going on!” Sam yells and pulls his friend off your abuser.

“He’s a fucking abuser and a coward! He’s hurting Y/N, and it’s gonna stop now. Don’t fucking go near her or I’ll do more than break your ribs,” Bucky threatens.

Everyone looks at John who just groans in pain with his eyes closed. Bucky pushes past everyone to get back into the house and to the bathroom where you are. You’re sitting on the toilet biting your nails nervously. You have no idea what is going on out there or what Bucky can do to help you. The bathroom door opens and Bucky enters without a second thought. You stand up to greet him when you smell blood. Your eyes trail down his body until they land on his flesh hand which has open wounds on it.

“What did you do?” you gasp.

“I should have killed him.” The realization that you’re free, at least at this moment, hits you and the floodgates open. The tears come flowing out and won’t stop, and Bucky pulls you into his arms. “He will never hurt you again. Sam and I have an extra room you can use.”

Your grip on him gets tighter.

“Thank you,” you cry and shake in his arms.

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

343 notes · View notes

kookieskookiejar · 1 year

Text

Jeongguk hasn’t seen his mate for more than a year, and now he’s ready to indulge in the drug he calls his baby

wordcount: 4.2k

warnings: ab* au, kn*tting, minor jealousy tendencies on Jeongguk’s side, cream pie, this is really sweet tbh, so if you don’t like that then this isn’t for you.

DON’T LIKE DON’T READ, HATE COMMENTS WOULD BE BLOCKED, THANK YOU.

“Dude wake up, they’re flying back in today,” Namjoon nudges Jeongguk till he’s broken free from the clutches of a very sweet dream, featuring you of course, you’d been the centre of his world ever since he laid eyes on you the first time.

It was only three years ago when Jeongguk had reluctantly fetched his little sister, Jihyo, to her dance academy.

Jihyo’s car had broken down and of course he had to step in, according to Jihyo that is, and how could Jeongguk turn her down when she couldn’t leave him alone until he did?

Jeongguk swore he was going to leave once he dropped his annoying little sister off, but there was this pull he felt after he dropped her off at the lobby, so he parked his car and made his way in, and that’s when he felt the connection being the strongest, he looked around, trying to locate the source, and that’s when he sees you, talking to Jihyo animatedly, the two of you looking very much excited about your first day of the semester at the academy, you stopped talking to Jihyo when you felt that same pull, and that’s when the two of you locked eyes, it’s like the omega within you became one with your human mind, and at that moment, your omega had found her alpha standing a few feet away in sweats and a messy bed hair.

Jeongguk was excited to say the least, he hasn’t seen you for over a year and a half, the two of you barely started dating before you and Jihyo received the news that the team had been given the opportunity to tour internationally, he’s flown out to see you once or twice at countries nearer to Korea like Japan, but he can’t let go of his job just to tour with you, so the two of you settled for facetimes and texts whenever the two of you are free, Jeongguk lost count at the many times he fell asleep on call with you.

You’re really fucking nervous, being long distance for so long and suddenly you would have all the time together with Jeongguk? Your omega is happy of course, but you’re really nervous deep inside, what if he’s already found a more suitable omega than you? What if you’re not as pretty as you last left him?

Before you could send yourself in panic mode, you and Jihyo are at the arrival hall, and that’s when you see him, standing there with Namjoon, a childhood friend of his and Jihyo’s, waving enthusiastically at the sight of the two of you.

Jihyo and you quickly jog up to the two of them, you gave Namjoon a friendly greeting while he gives Jihyo a ‘welcome home hug’, but before you could greet your alpha, he wraps you up in a bone breaking hug, and instantly he buries his nose into your scent gland, inhaling you like a drug, it’s been so long, he almost forgot how you smelled like, the thought almost makes him tear up, and you must’ve been able to pick up the slight sour of his soapy scent, immediately releasing some comforting pheromones to calm him down, a hand patting his back, the feeling almost motherly to Jeongguk, reminds him of the days when he comes back from a long day of school and his mother would scent him as a welcome home greeting.

“I missed you so fucking much,” Jeongguk mumbles against your shoulder, his strong hold on you never once wavered even though it’s been almost a minute.

“I missed you too, Guk, always have,” you reassured, you don’t show it as much, or maybe it’s because you’re not as attuned with your omega, but you can still feel yourself purring, grateful that you're finally reunited with your other half.

“Okay, okay, break it up, you two, I’m fucking starving,” Jihyo nags from the side, “not even a hello to your sister too,” Jihyo mumbles with the biggest side eye which earns her a chuckle from Namjoon.

“Yeah, whatever, missed your annoying ass too,” Jeongguk says after finally pulling apart from you, and is instead now holding onto your hand, his other hand holding onto all of your luggage.

“What about my luggage?” Jihyo whines, Namjoon tells her to cut her brother some slack, offering to hold more of her luggage with a shake of his head at Jihyo’s childish antics.

“You’re an alpha, carry your own shit,” Jeongguk retorts, which earns a playful slap from you.

“Wow, this is fancy,” you say as you take in the glamorous interior, when Jeongguk said he’s taking all of you to eat seafood, you thought it was one of those restaurants the two of you frequented for a casual dinner date, but this is upscale.

“Only the best for my baby,” Jeongguk says before he says his name to the waitress to be led to your table.

All of you chatted after ordering, Jeongguk even remembered to order you a glass of wine to help with your jet lag, he’s always been an attentive alpha.

Finally after almost half an hour, a platter of prawns arrived, photos were taken and posted when the lot of you finally dug in.

You hand your plate of prawns to Jihyo, a normal occurrence between the two of you because you always had your nails done with those protruding decor, this time, teddy bears, and you’re not going to risk damaging the cute little things, while Jihyo prefers having her nails bare of anything protruding, in fact her most ‘out there’ nail colour is an electric blue which you picked out for her.

Jihyo takes your plate mindlessly, preparing to peel the shrimps for you, until you feel a looming presence next to you.

You look back to see Jeongguk’s eyes having a flicker of red hue before he sees you catching him red handed, Jihyo must’ve seen it too because the next thing you see is her scowling face, and not the one she and her brother makes when the food tastes delicious.

“Dickhead, I’m your sister, I peeled her prawns way before the two of you started dating,” Jihyo says with an annoyed tone.

“It’s okay, you can have those prawns, babe,” you say before reaching over to take her empty plate as an exchange, loading it up with new prawns, handing it to Jeongguk.

“Here you go, Mr Jealous Jeon, I don’t want to ruin my nails, or I’d peel them myself,” you explain, hoping that he doesn’t see it as anything else, but on the other hand, Jihyo is your best friend, platonic affection is a given at times.

“Sorry, it was out of instinct,” Jeongguk explains, an unapologetic look given to his sister who scoffed in return.

“It’s okay,” you say with a slight stutter, your eyes zeroing on the way he rolls up his sleeves, the sight making you clench your legs together, you were always a sucker for his arm veins.

What you didn’t realise was that Jeongguk was this possessive over you, and it awakens a familiar yearning inside you.

The meal goes smoothly after that, mostly consisting of you and Jihyo gushing about the many places you’ve been to, and how delicious the local food is while the two boys complain about how they wished they tagged along too.

All of you agreed to end the night with some dessert, and while you wait for the food to come, you find yourself entranced by the sight of Jeongguk’s arms, he had his bare arm placed on top of the long bench the two of you share, giving you a view of his tricep, his veins looking very sexy.

You reached out to trace them, unconsciously shifting closer to Jeongguk, the two of you aren’t that big on pda, and hence the two of you had always kept a distance physically, other than the times when he flew out to see you and fell asleep cuddled in your hotel bed, but beyond cuddling and making out, the two of you haven’t done anything beyond that.

Which is why Jeongguk finds it surprising to see you make the first move to be closer to him right now, and when your hand slithers up to his bicep, he raises an eyebrow.

“Your hands are so cold, they feel like raindrops on my skin,” Jeongguk says mindlessly, still watching you, switching between watching your actions and your expression, trying to grasp your thoughts.

“Must be an omega thing, but my hands have always been cold, even compared to other omegas,” you say, “it’s nothing to be worried of, so don’t fret,” you assured with a playful poke against his bicep, surprised at how hard his bicep felt.

Jeongguk laughs aloud at your shocked expression, his arm flexing even more as he laughs with his entire body, but before he could say something to tease you, the dessert arrives and Jihyo is quick to chip in her two cents.

“Stop with that lovey dovey shit before I throw up this pie in your faces,” she said followed by an attempt to shush her from Namjoon.

“Eat your pie facing the other side if you’re so sensitive,” Jeongguk fires back before he hands you a fork for you to dig in.

It’s only an hour plus but you have a feeling these two siblings are going to bicker till the last second.

“I’ll take an uber home with Jihyo, you guys head home, I’m sure both of you are tired after travelling so much, might as well spend some money so all of us could reach home quicker,” Namjoon suggest, Jihyo agrees, giving you a quick hug goodbye before you walk hand in hand to Jeongguk’s car, it’s been so long since the last time you spent the night with him, and needless to say, you’re excited for what you have in mind tonight.

“What do you want to watch?” Jeongguk asked after the two of you had changed into more comfortable clothes, your suitcase lying haphazardly in the corner of his living room.

“Anything,” you say mindlessly as you watch Jeongguk light one of his scented candles, the scent of lavender filling up your nostrils, a perfect combination with his fresh soapy scent.

“Anything isn’t a show title, sweets,” Jeongguk chides, as he goes to his shelf, taking out his beloved alcohol stash, beer and whisky seem to be his new favourite lately.

“It doesn’t really matter to me, I'm caught up to most of my shows,” you haven’t finished the glory, but that can wait for a day when you’re less jet lagged.

“How about a classic then?” Jeongguk asked, turning on one of his favourite marvel movies.

“Sure,” you say, did you plan on watching? No, not really, you just want cuddles, and maybe something more.

Halfway through the movie, you catch yourself smiling at the sight of your alpha looking so focused at the movie, a slight pout on his lip to signify he was 100% concentrated.

“What are you thinking about?” Jeongguk asked from the corner of his eye.

You take a sip from his odd concoction of whisky and beer, cringing at the taste, you were never fond of beer.

“You always take a sip even though you hate beer,” Jeongguk notes with a chuckle, his nose scrunched up at your cute face with your tongue out, cringing the taste.

“Not much, but I do want to ask you, have you always been so possessive?” you question, the events of tonight suddenly popping up in your mind.

“Is peeling prawns something really intimate in your eyes?” you ask.

Jeongguk looks away at your unnerving eyes, oh how he’s never been able to lie to you, you’re truly his kryptonite.

“Well, I mean, sometimes my alpha makes decisions that my human side doesn’t agree,” Jeongguk says truthfully, “and I know that I shouldn’t have reacted that way, especially towards my own my sister, if it made you uncomfortable…I’m sorry,” Jeongguk says, his head hanging low, like a puppy who’s being denied of head rubs, he’s seen his own eyes flash red, and although it’s normal, it must’ve scared you, since he hasn’t done that in your presence before.

“I’m not upset, Guk, but I hope you understand that peeling prawns really didn’t mean much to me until today, maybe I should stop doing my nails if you’re-

“No! I love your nails,” Jeongguk blurts out, “don’t change yourself for me, but next time, when I’m around, can, can I be the one to peel prawns for you?” Jeongguk asks in a small voice, his eyes looking as sad as a beagle puppy’s.

“Okay, now don’t be upset anymore, cuz I’m not, in fact, I find it really cute, you look really cute when you’re mad,” you joke, trying to lure him into another topic.

“No, I’m not,” Jeongguk says defensively, an exasperated smile on his face, like he couldn’t believe what you just said.

“You do, and there’s nothing wrong with being a cute alpha, you literally have the biggest doe eyes,” you add on with a mischievous tone.

“I’m not!” Jeongguk defends himself, his hands immediately going to your waist, tickling your sides, your laughter erupting in the dark living room, so lively with you around, it was always too quiet when you weren’t.

“Not so cute now, am I?” Jeongguk says from above you, his laughter mixing with your own when he sees your funny reactions and futile attempts of pushing his hands away.

“Okay! Okay! You win!” you say exasperatedly, you swear this man’s going to tickle the last breath out of you.

Once Jeongguk stops his onslaught attack on your ticklish spots, you straddle his thighs, your omega purring in delight, she’s longed for this moment since the first time you laid eyes on Jeongguk.

“I find you really hot too, you know?” you say with a tone you’ve never used, and Jeongguk’s reacting positively to it, you could feel a shudder run down his back.

“Don’t start something you can’t afford to finish, my love,” Jeongguk reminds you, his eyes hooded, already affected by the slight switch of your scent, so fucking sweet it’s clouding all his senses.

“I mean, that depends on your performance, no?” you retort, your hand caressing his neck, wrapping around it experimentally, only to feel something rising in Jeongguk’s sweats, poking your butt.

“Oh baby, you shouldn’t have done that,” Jeongguk says before slamming his lips onto yours, his tongue immediately dominating you.

Your settle for licking the plump of lower lip, sucking on it, biting it, oh how you missed seeing his lips swollen.

Jeongguk carries you to his bedroom with ease, settling you down onto his large bed gently, a stark contrast to how roughly he’s kissing you.

You love making out with him, but your omega craves for more, which is why you tugged his shirt off, breaking the scorching kiss.

Your hungry eyes trail down to his pecs, you don’t know if it’s a Jeoungguk effect, but you love his boobs, for lack of better wording, you hand instantly finds its way to his nipples, flicking and twisting while your other hand gropes the surprisingly soft meat around it.

“How long have you been thinking of doing this?” Jeongguk questions with a nervous laugh, trying not to sound too affected by your sinful actions.

“Since the first time I saw you shirtless,” you confess shamelessly, and so that confirms Jihyo’s constant ‘warnings’ of how you’re much more dirty minded than you had let on around Jeongguk himself.

Jeongguk shakes his head playfully at your blatant thirsty confession.

“You’re truly one of a kind,” Jeongguk says before he continues kissing you, breaking you out of your little routine you had with his chest.

You succumb to his kiss immediately, hands tangled into Jeongguk’s hair, the touch sending a shiver southwards.

But soon, Jeongguk craves for more, and so he asks for permission to take off your shirt, and god, he thought your hands would make him cum on the spot, glad that he didn’t, but the sight of your drenched pussy just might.

“Fuck, you’re perfect all over,” Jeongguk says before delving down to steal a taste, his mind going a tad bit dizzy at the sweet taste.

Jeongguk then focuses his attention on your boobs next, hands gently grasping them, the soft meat perfectly fitting into his palms, like you were made just for him, flicking your cute nubs with his thumbs, watching your breasts jiggle in motion with his movements, so cute.

“Stop dragging this out, Guk, you’re such a tease,” you say with a whine.

“Oh so you can take your time playing with my boobs, but I can’t?” Jeongguk chides, but abides, he’d do anything you say, so he moves on, his hands trailing down, until they reach your thighs, prying them open for him to fully take in the view of your wet centre, it’s only gotten wetter since the start, and the fact that it’s all his doing just fills his ego.

Jeongguk slips in a finger in while he holds eye contact with you, his tongue mindlessly playing with his lip piercing to calm his nerves, but to you, he was doing everything that’s sexy in your eyes.

Fuck, Jeongguk didin’t expect you to feel so wet, so warm, he just wants to sink into your velvet walls forever, bury himself into your warm cunt and die there, that’s how addictive you feel, and this is just his finger, he’ll lose his sanity once he’s inside you.

Jeongguk moves his finger around, aiming upwards, trying to locate for your sweet spot, and when he hears a whimper of his name fall from your swollen lips, he knows he’s found the prize.

He slips another finger in, doing a come hither movement, opening you up for him, he’s glad he’s a decent multitasker, or he’d lose his focus from how you’re arching your back into his touch, if you could, you’d glue his hand to your breast, you’d touch yourself before, but you thought your nipples weren’t all that sensitive, until Jeongguk’s touch, and now you’re addicted, but if you were told to choose between his fingers inside you or touching your boobies, you wouldn’t be able to choose, you’ve never been this wet with anyone else or by yourself, everything’s electrified with Jeongguk.

Although the two of you are about to unspeakable things to each other, you can’t help but think, Jeongguk has always been a gentleman, you could just tell by his meticulous prepping, his furrowed eyebrows that match his doe eyes, the way they dart around between your pussy and your face, trying his best to see if you’re feeling okay, if he needs to stop, love blossoms just as pleasure builds up between your legs, your walls clenching and unclenching around Jeongguk’s fingers, a silent message that you’re about to be pushed over the edge, and Jeongguk could tell too, which is why he retracts his fingers before you could do so, earning a nearly animalistic whine from you, not used to being denied by Jeongguk, always his spoiled baby.

“If I don’t stop I’m really gonna cum in my pants, sweetheart,” Jeongguk confesses with a shake of his head, his alpha’s ego slightly hurt by the revelation.

“Hurry then,” you say before you decided to take matters into your own hands, taking his pants and boxers off in one tug, revealing his thick length bouncing up, hitting his perfectly sculpted abs, the tip shiny with beads of pre cum.

Jeongguk could see you slowly gravitating towards his cock, so he pushes you down onto the bed before you could get any sneaky ideas and have him cum down your throat in seconds.

“Next time, I promise, I need to look at you properly when you take me down your throat, now I just want to be inside you,” Jeongguk promises, positing his length at your entrance, but he finds himself entranced by your swollen clit that he previously rubbed his nose against, and so he grasps himself in his hands, rubbing his tip against your clit, groaning at the feeling of your smooth folds, fuck it, he really needs to be inside you, now.

“Fuck, Guk,” you sigh out when he slowly pushes into you, your walls clamping down onto his cock like a greeting hug, god his brain needs to stop tying sex with you to some innocent gesture, or he’d pop a boner at everything he does, and with how addicting you feel, he fears you’d really have that power over him.

When he’s finally balls deep inside you, he could feel his fangs protruding, he’s sure his eyes are flashing red as yours began showing a golden hue, the colour of an omega.

“You can move now,” you say when you realised Jeongguk had been stilled to allow you to adjust to his size.

Jeongguk nods, maybe a little more times than necessary, just to reassure himself. He pulls out slowly, the contact between your bare walls around his dick has him shuddering, leaving just the tip in, he feels you sucking him in, and that’s when he decided to throw all caution out of the window, thrusting back in quickly, a gasp and a moan of his name could be heard, he craves to hear that sweet melody again, and so he begins to move, setting a moderate pace.

Jeongguk could feel you everywhere, wrapped around his cock, your sweet voice tickling his ear, and even those pretty nails you do everything to maintain in its mint condition, the acrylics digging into his tricep as he snaps his hips, the pace of them getting faster by the second as you struggle to even moan, too consumed by the way Jeongguk’s cock seem to always hit that sweet spot that you thought no man would be able to find on the first night, but this man, your alpha, proves that he’s fully capable in everything he sets his mind to, and that’s the biggest turn on, ever.

When Jeongguk shifts his hand from your hip to your clit, you knew you were going to be ruined by him tonight, it felt like an electric shock, the first contact of the pad of his calloused thumb, but when you felt him rubbing quick circles on your bundle of nerves, a sob rocked your body, the pleasure coming from the tip of your toes to your entire body, so many pleasure points being stimulated all at once, your body went haywire, you could feel your mind going blank before you felt the band in your abdomen snap, your walls clench onto Jeongguk so harshly that Jeongguk has to bite onto the pillow your head’s laying on to prevent his animal side from running free and bite your neck.

Jeongguk’s knot began forming when he could feel you coming down from your high, thank god for the slicked walls, or he’d pull out from fear of you getting hurt even though he’s prepped you thoroughly, he doesn’t want your first time to have any risks of pain, or any other time, but he wants your first time with him to be very much memorable in a positive light.

Jeongguk could feel you clenching in panic when you felt the swollen knot, your mind still hazy from your orgasm, and so Jeongguk is quick on his feet to reassure you.

“Just a little more, baby, take my knot like a good girl and it’d be all over,” Jeongguk says beside your ear before kissing you gently as he releases calming pheromones, and that’s when he felt you unclenching, just in time for his knot to deflate painting your walls with white.

“There you go, it’s all over my pretty baby, I'll get you all washed up when I'm safe to pull out,” Jeongguk suggests, but you could feel your consciousness fading, the only thing you remember is your bare skin coming into contact with a body of warm water.

When you wake, you’re still in your alpha’s hold, but you’re now dressed in a thick sweater of his, black of course, since there seems to be a colour shortage in his wardrobe.

“Well, if it isn’t sleeping beauty,” Jeongguk jokes, which earns him a light punch to his chest.

“It’s all your fault, who knew you’d be so tiring,” you say with a slight whine, still feeling sore between your legs.

“I’m sorry, I’ll make you breakfast tomorrow as an apology, happy?” Jeongguk bargains with that charming smile of his that makes all the omegas he meets drop onto their knees for them.

“As long as you’re buying lunch too,” you retort before snuggling closer to your alpha, fatigue crawling into you once more.

“I ended up with one of those demanding omegas, didn’t I?” Jeongguk says to himself with a shake of his head before he decides to sleep as well, for the first time in a long time, he falls asleep in no time, now that his favourite scent is surrounding him.

#jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #bts smut #jungkook fanfic #jungkook imagines #jungkook fluff #bts fluff #bts imagines #bts x reader #jeon jungkook #jeongguk

457 notes · View notes

possibilistfanfiction · 1 year

Note

avatrice + kiss on the back of the hand?

[ava + some friends, more outside pov (in the future!) for @unicyclehippo]

despite the fact that physical therapy is boring, and not at all your favorite activity, you like your therapist, brian, and at least you’ve gotten to consistently schedule it early enough in the morning you don’t miss your bridge group. and you’ve been compliant — mostly; you did spend more time on your feet last week than you were supposed to, but your grandson was visiting and you would never let him leave without having his favorite brisket and matzoh ball soup — and have done the exercises brian gives you to do at home every day.

the physical therapy gym is mostly boring, more — and you hate to say it — old people, like you, recovering from total knee or total hip replacements, and a few young athletes. your son, ezra, drops you off and picks you up twice a week; sometimes his husband, marcus, fills in and he always takes you to get donuts afterward, your little secret. today you sit at the table you always start at, your walker steady and almost unnecessary at this point, and a young woman, exhausted-looking and the kind of pretty that could easily belong in a party when you were young, sitting in a sleek wheelchair by the table, smiles gently across you. you’re early by a few minutes — ezra is wonderful, but he’s a bit wound up all the time — so you smile back. ‘i’m ruth,’ you say.

‘hi.’ the young woman seems happy to talk, cheerful. ‘i’m ava.’

‘very exciting beginning to your morning, it seems like.’

she groans. ‘ugh, tell me about it. my partner barely woke up in time to drive me here.’

you laugh. ‘not a morning person?’

ava rolls her eyes. ‘no, not at all. i love mornings though, even if they’re at physical therapy.’

‘it’s not so bad,’ you tell her. ‘have you done it before?’

‘not really.’ she shrugs. ‘i have some chronic spine stuff from a car accident when i was younger, and my doctors have tried… a lot, so we’re hoping this helps everything.’

‘i hope it’ll help.’ you gesture to your walker. ‘total hip replacement. from being old.’

ava’s smile is bright. ‘kinda cool, to get old, though, huh? and to have as cool of clothes as you do? i can only hope the same for myself, one day.’

it’s sweet, and sincere, and aching under the surface. ‘it is wonderful, to get to grow old. and —‘ you wink — ‘to get to be better dressed than everyone around you.’

‘hell yeah.’ she looks at her own hoodie and joggers. ‘i usually am better dressed than this, or, at least, more fun; i just had surgery last week.’

‘well, when you’re feeling better, i’m sure i’ll be very impressed.’

‘i don’t know about that.’ ava blushes a little, and you’re delighted. ‘i think my partner is probably the better dressed of the two of us; she’s very chic. but i’m fun!’

‘fun is the most important part. especially when you’re an old lady.’

she laughs and then brian walks up, says hi to you, and you wave. ‘good luck, ava. i’ll talk to you soon.’

‘for sure,’ she tells you enthusiastically.

you’re waiting on a bench in front of the physical therapy gym in the warm sunshine — not too hot, not too cold, perfect — when ava walks toward you, slowly and with a cane, but walking.

‘is this seat taken?’

‘for a pretty girl like you? absolutely not.’

she laughs, bright and warm. ‘ruth, you flirt.’

‘i’m old.’ she sits gingerly and it makes you hurt for her, just a little — not that she needs any mobility aids, but because it’s clear she’s in pain. ‘i get to flirt whenever i want.’

‘oh, is that how it works?’

‘absolutely,’ you tell her sagely.

‘well, other than me, of course, let me know if there are any crushes i should know about? i love drama, and my life is, both tragically and fortunately, drama free right now.’

‘well, sean in my bridge group, and david from shul. oh, and lee from my favorite cafe i go to for lunch.’

‘hmm, pros and cons? or are we playing the field?’

you laugh, and you tell her about sean’s clever hands, the beautiful way david reads scripture, how lee always offers you half his reuben. ava listens attentively, like she really cares, and, after she asks a thoughtful series of questions about how to play bridge — my girlfriend would probably demolish at this game, honestly — you understand that she really does care; she really does want to know you. so you ask her questions too; her partner’s name is beatrice, and she is, according to ava, beautiful and kind and exacting; ava grew up mostly in spain and is a bartender, which she loves, and they live in a house on the beach because beatrice, apparently, works in consulting all over europe, and also enjoys teaching aikido. ‘she has four black belts,’ ava says, and fans herself. it makes you laugh, and when marcus drives up in his practical, nice bmw hybrid, you pat her hand.

‘see you tuesday, ruth.’

‘enjoy your weekend, ava.’

ava’s walking better on tuesday, and she sits next to you without asking this time, after you’re both finished. she fishes around in her crossbody bag and then holds out her hand, some candy with wrappers in mandarin on her palm. ‘they’re plum candies. they’re beatrice’s favorites, so i thought i was being sweet, but, i kinda went overboard and ordered, like, enough for a small army.’

you laugh but take one — you would never turn down an offered sweet; something of a communion — and open it while ava does the same. it’s wonderful: flavorful and sweet and a little sour, and you tell ava that.

‘ugh, i know,’ she says. ‘i don’t think bea had had them for a really long time; she cried the other day.’ ava smiles, like she’s trying not to laugh. ‘it was very sweet. a little dramatic, but i get it. i kind of go crazy for panellets.’

‘well, i’m making babka tomorrow, how about i bring you both some thursday?’

‘ruth, that’s too much.’

‘i love to share food,’ you say. ‘really, it’s part of the job description of a bubbe. they only let you in if you share your babka.’

ava rolls her eyes but then she nods. ‘i would really love that.’

ezra drives up, and you stand — easily, now, without pain and much stiffness — and wave.

your babka turns out as good as it always does — the best at shul, despite the fact that yael claims hers is better — and you place a few carefully in a tupperware to bring to ava, who seems a little wilted when she sits next to you. she waves you off when you look concerned.

’no big deal,’ she says. ‘just didn’t sleep too well last night. but! now i’m going to eat the world’s best babka and nap after bea drops me off. do you think i could convince her to nap with me?’

‘depends on why you didn’t sleep well last night.’

it takes ava a minute but then she laughs, brightening immediately. ‘ruth!’

‘you’re young, you should be having fun.’

‘oh, we have fun.’ ava grins. ‘don’t worry.’

‘well, speaking of fun,’ you say, ‘a few of my friends and i go to this water aerobics class at the country club together, every wednesday. i’m sorry if i was eavesdropping, but i heard kayvon tell you that some water therapy might be helpful? it’s really quite fun.’

‘that sounds awesome, honestly. i just got cleared to drive myself next week, so i would love that!’

you don’t bother to mention that everyone in the class is over seventy, mostly because you don’t really care, but, also, ava doesn’t seem to care, at all, that you’re at least fifty years older than her: you’re friends, and she’s kind, and bright.

once again, marcus is there to pick her up before her ride, but you give her your number — and you add her on facebook, because that’s easier for you sometimes — before you leave. you send her the details later that day, and she responds with a few emojis you don’t understand, but that your grandson laughs at when you show him. good enough.

‘i didn’t know, really, what to wear to water aerobics,’ ava says, happily sitting on the edge of the pool with you. she has on a simple red one-piece, her hair tied up in a bun, although short pieces escape. the back dips low and you see multiple scars, some faded and one new, and painful looking; ava’s light often makes you forget why you first met.

‘this is great,’ you tell her. you gesture to your brightly colored, polka dotted tankini. ‘you can spice it up however much you want. just wait until you meet angela.’

as if on cue, angela, tall and Black and striking, walks in, with her perpetually perfect close cropped hair, in a pair of heels and draped in an elegant silk coverup over a royal blue bikini. ‘whoa,’ ava says, and it’s so earnest it makes you laugh.

‘listen,’ ava says, ‘i’m bi, queer, and, yeah, i have a partner who is so so so beautiful, like, god, this morning she came home from surfing and used our outdoor shower — thank god for her trust fund, am i right? — but… ruth, i have eyes.’ she looks over to you. ‘you have eyes too, right? like, no offense to sean and david and lee, but… angela is stunning, okay?’

‘she is,’ you grant her, mostly because you’re amused. angela walks over and smiles, gracious and perfect, and you gesture to ava, who gulps. ‘angela, ava. ava, angela.’

‘hello, ava,’ angela says. ‘ruth says that she’s quite fond of you from physical therapy.’

‘yeah,’ ava says, a little stunned. ‘that’s — that’s really kind, ruth.’

‘we don’t invite just anyone to water aerobics. it’s an exclusive club.’

‘other than courtney,’ angela grumbles.

’well, true,’ you admit. ‘but she’s not part of lunch. ava, next week, you should come join us.’

‘i would love that,’ she says. ‘beatrice will too, i’ll make sure of it.’

you laugh, and angela waves to rosa and farha when she sees them. class goes great; ava seems, when you look over at her a few times, to enjoy it a lot. even though you hadn’t really worried that ava would feel out of place, any nagging feelings are assuaged when she gets out of the pool and wraps a towel around her shoulders, carefully moves on the wet floor with a cane.

‘i told bea i’d be home soon,’ she says, ‘and she gets kinda nervous when i’m late. but! i’ll see you at therapy tomorrow, and i’ll definitely plan on lunch next week.’ she hesitates for a moment and then gives you a hug, which fills you with a very particular kind of warmth. ‘thank you, for inviting me.’

‘of course, ava. see you tomorrow.’

you see ava at therapy and you think, for the most part, she’s improving: you haven’t seen her wheelchair in months, and she still uses her cane, but you think it’s mostly because it feels safer, especially if she’s sore. you start going once a week but it doesn’t really matter, because she comes to water aerobics in increasingly fun swimsuits, including a purple stripped bikini that makes even angela whistle. ‘oh, to be young again,’ she had said, and ava had blushed.

‘so, how did you meet beatrice?’ margot asks, back from her annual trip to florida.

ava puts down her fork and smiles, so soft. ‘work, in spain. a job i didn’t even want, even. but, even from when we first met, she’s always just been so kind. we spent a sabbatical together, one summer, and that’s when i really fell in love with her.’

‘love at first sight, then?’ angela grins.

‘maybe not quite,’ ava says, then laughs. ‘i was… difficult, back then. obviously, i’m a total angel now.’

you roll your eyes and farha says, ‘oh, sure.’

‘we’ve been through a lot,’ ava says, softer and very sincere. ‘she’s — she’s the best person i know.’

‘well we need to meet her,’ you decide, even though you’ve been meaning to ask them both to shabbat soon anyway. ‘bring her to lunch friday?’

‘if that’s okay with everyone? i guarantee she has exceedingly good manners, much much better than mine.’

‘low bar,’ rosa says.

‘ha ha, very funny.’ ava tries her best not to smile but then does anyway, brighter than the noon sun overhead outside.

you’re just sitting down at the table, one extra seat this week, when ava perks up and then stands, steady and even, and you see who you know, from pictures ava has shown you, is beatrice, smiling a little nervously. ‘hi, baby,’ ava says, and beatrice takes ava’s hand and gently places a kiss to her knuckles, like a genuine knight.

‘absurd,’ angela whispers from next to you, and you try not to laugh loud enough for them to hear you, because they’re young but they’re not that young: they have a home together, and you know, from the few things ava has mentioned privately, usually on days that are too, too bright, things have been hard, and they’ve had to spend time apart in the past, and ava is thankful.

‘hello, everyone,’ beatrice says, her accent and posture extremely formal, in contrast to her casual but still, somehow, smart black hoodie and white sweatshorts and birkenstocks. her hair is in a messy bun, a few strands escaping that ava happily pushes behind her ears, and a big tattoo sitting above her left knee; she’s muscular and strong, but there are freckles spread across her cheeks and, when ava smiles at her, she softens, entirely. they are young, and, even though ava has shown you pictures, you’re still struck, in the moment, by how much they fit.

there’s a chorus of hi, beatrice and it’s so good to meet you and ava talks about you all the time, but beatrice takes it all in stride, a happy little smile on her face. you understand, quickly, that they fit, the same way you and aaron had, so long ago: ava is loud and overwhelmingly bright, enthusiastic and generous with all of her affection, and beatrice is quietly funny, whip smart, and thoughtfully attentive to ava. she turns and listens, fully, to whoever is talking, and knows about rosa’s birding, and the shrine farha talks about in lahore, and the new podcast angela is listening to. she’s impressive, as a person, and ava seems distinctly aware of it, basking, a little, in being chosen by someone so special.

‘sorry i’m underdressed,’ beatrice says after you order. ‘i was surfing this morning, and then had to jump on a work call, and i didn’t want to be late.’

‘everything okay?’ ava checks.

‘yes,’ beatrice says, soothes a hand along ava’s thigh and then squeezes her knee. ‘nothing of concern.’

ava squints. ’were you just asleep? you wouldn’t lie to me, right?’

beatrice pauses. ‘i was — well, catching up on some sleep, when camila called.’

ava barks a laugh. ‘bea is the sleepiest person i know.’

‘sleep is one of the great pleasures of life,’ angela says, regal and finite in her statement, ‘among other things in bed.’

beatrice grins while ava blushes. ‘now i know why you like coming to these classes and lunches so much,’ beatrice says, shooting angela a wink. ‘you do have a type.’

‘ah, and what a type it is,’ ava says, sighing for effect, seemingly recovered from her momentary emabrassment.

at the end of lunch, you do invite them to shabbat, and beatrice asks your favorite kind of kosher wine.

‘okay, you are all sworn to secrecy,’ ava says, leaning forward at the table. it’s not particularly quiet, because farha’s hearing aides can only do so much, and rosa flat out refuses to wear any, but there’s no on important around you anyway.

‘wonderful,’ angela says.

‘i love a secret,’ you agree.

‘well.’ ava lets out a big breath. ‘beatrice and i are going to switzerland, next week, to the alps, where we spent our first summer together, and i —‘ she shakes her head — ‘this feels so crazy, but i’m going to propose.’

it sends the whole table into a flurry of excitement, asking about ava’s plan — a hike, the one they would go on every tuesday together, slowly and for fun — and the ring ava had picked out — beautiful, and elegant, and perfect, you think — and, ‘do you think she’ll say yes?’

ava gulps. ‘i know she wants to spend her life with me.’ she sounds sure, and calm, despite her fingers nervously fidgeting with her napkin. ‘she was… very religious, for a long time, so, like, she’s always been really accepting of other same sex marriages, but i think it’s taken her a minute to get her to feel ready for, like, our own very queer marriage. sacrament, and all that, i guess.’ she shakes her head. ‘but anyway, yes! i think she’s ready. i think she really wants to get married.’

her smile is gentle, serene, and you had watched beatrice — in neat linen, her hair long and swept over her shoulder, fight her way through eating multiple bites of gefilte fish last friday, even though it was clear she hated it, and say prayers in hebrew, quietly. ava had been in her chair; you hadn’t asked, and neither had anyone from shul or your family, but beatrice had made sure that she had everything she needed, unobtrusive and practiced. ava had been, unexpectedly, the life of the party, charming everyone with her laugh and her silly puns and a very spirited debate with your granddaughter about women’s soccer. they’re a pair, you understood, very clearly: at the end of the night, ava had encouraged beatrice, gently, to take extra kugel along with the challah and chicken you’d already put in tupperware for them; beatrice had gotten their sweaters from the closet and handed ava’s to hers with a kiss to her forehead, tender and private, a moment that had belonged just to them.

‘we’ll all be eagerly awaiting the engagement photographs,’ angela says with sure gravitas.

‘post them on facebook,’ you tell her, and ava laughs, but she promises, later, when you give her a hug, that she will.

‘thank you, for inviting us,’ you tell ava, a bit in awe, if you’re being honest, of their house. she bounces around happily, and angela just looks at you with a raised brow for a moment. there are bright red and gold decorations everywhere, and beatrice walks over with a neat bun and beautiful jacket, embroidered so elegantly even angela seems a little in love with it.

’happy new year,’ she says, and you both give her a hug as you return the sentiment, then shows you to their kitchen, with a spread of chinese food that smell so, so good, and then gestures out to the open-air doors and patio that overlooks the ocean. ‘help yourselves to whatever you want. ruth, there are plenty of dishes that i made sure meet all kosher standards; they should be labeled. and there’s plenty of seating, and come find me if you need anything.’ she pauses. ‘or ava, but she gets a little… activated when we have a lot of people over.’

‘so, did we know how rich they were?’ angela says, loading her plate with everything she can after beatrice walks away to greet more guests.

‘not this rich.’

you both wait a beat and then laugh, and you find seats by the railing; your hip doesn’t hurt at all anymore. ava finds you both eventually and steals an egg roll from your plate with a laugh. ‘i’ll get you another one,’ she promises. ‘and, i just wanted to say, thanks for being my friends. i know it’s silly, but the water aerobics have really helped me feel better — and much less bored — when my mobility has been limited. and i love hearing about your lives, and sharing mine. i just —’ she scrubs her hand along the back of her neck, her hair neatly trimmed to her chin, fluttering in the breeze. ‘i went a long time without great role models.’

it’s so sincere and so touching. angela sniffles and you fish a hanky from your purse and hand it to her; she dabs her eyes.

‘don’t call us old,’ she says, voice breaking, and ava laughs.

‘i could’ve called you my adoptive grandmothers, so count your blessings.’

you roll your eyes when she takes a big, smiling bite of her (your) egg roll. ‘you are a blessing,’ you tell her.

ava swallows her bite and then leans to hug you, tight and sincere. ‘thank you,’ she whispers.

‘happy new year, ava.’

‘yeah,’ she says, a little teary but with a huge smile. ‘happy new year.’

#we have been talking abt ava & her bubbe for... Months !! lol #finally got to it #ava & the gals #ft sleepy bea #wn #warrior nun fic #avatrice #avatrice fic #prompts #also happy lunar new year!!!! this is the new year they're attending fyi if that isn't clear lol #also yes ava's type rly is like exacting smartly dressed women who are in fact taller than her

457 notes · View notes

not-neverland06 · 8 months

Text

Broken Machinery

Pt. 4 (completed series)

Series masterlist

Connor RK800 x fem!reader

A/N: A long one, I wanted some more domestic moments between the two, sue me. Black dahlia’s represent betrayal (or it’s just a nice gift for that emo friend in your life)

Content Warnings: Cussing (duh), body breaking like fine china, shoulders out of sockets (not that bad but I googled a picture of one and it’s gross), overdose (but not really), past death of a child (not reader’s), readers got hair long enough to be in a braid, death of a pot

Word Count: 6.4k

Series Summary: You and your grumpy partner Anderson gain a new addition to the team. He’s supposed to be CyberLife’s best, but there’s something not quite right with his programming, and the problems seem to revolve around you.

Shoulders aren’t supposed to look like that. They’re sure as fuck not supposed to feel like that either. You can’t even lift your arm to peel off your jacket, you don’t have to though, they’re dislocated.

“Y/N!” Calloused hands on your wrist and then all of your body weight is jerked down and hanging from your shoulders, you can feel the moment they rip out of socket, you can’t help the guttural scream that rips its way out of your throat.

The pain from your everywhere is momentarily ignored as you lay in Hank’s lap, sobbing with the relief that you’re still alive. You’re not dead or a paraplegic somewhere in a hospital bed, you’re breathing. You can feel Hank trembling, you’re not sure from what, but he’s silent as he holds you.

You must be going into shock, you can’t really feel anything as he slowly gets you on your feet. You can’t feel your legs moving down the stairwell or him directing you towards the group of patrol cars. One moment you’re on the roof, then you blink, and you’re standing behind an ambulance being looked over by paramedics.

“Cracked ribs, dislocated shoulder,”

Guess it was only the one shoulder, then.

They’re looking you over to assess the damage done. You can just stare blankly down at your sneakers. You’re trying to remember what exactly happened on the roof. But it’s all a blur of adrenaline and primal panic.

He was holding you over the edge, talking to someone. Who?

“Detective! Lieutenant!” Your head shoots up, you ignore the stabbing pain that travels down your spine.

Connor, Connor will save you.

Except he didn’t, he walked away.

He walked away.

You yank your arm free from the paramedic, ignore Hank as he tries to stop you and storm over to Connor. You’d say the look on his face is proud, but you’re not gonna let your heart trick your mind into thinking this plastic son of a bitch can feel anything at all.

“Y/N, I’ve successfully apprehended the deviant.” You’ve still got one good arm. You don’t aim for his face, that won’t do any good, you punch him right in the bio component and watch him crumple to the floor. When hes down you kick your foot into the same spot as hard as fucking possible, ignoring any pain that it brings you.

“Congratu-fucking-lations.”

SOFTWARE INSTABILITY^

It’s been two days and the detective still refuses to acknowledge Connor. He’d tried to explain his reasoning for leaving her in favor of catching the deviant.

FIND Y/N

Connor double checked the door on the hospital room, he could hear Hank and Y/N bickering from inside. “What did the doctors say?” There was a pause before she responded.

“Another day of bed rest,” she sounded reluctant to answer. Connor hadn’t been able to speak with her after the incident on the roof; he'd had to go straight to CyberLife technicians for repairs. She’d done considerable damage to his biocomponent.

Maybe I deserved it.

“Then get your ass back in bed.”

“Hank, please, I’ve suffered a lot worse than this and made it out perfectly fine.”

Hank didn’t sound amused, and there was a loud thud as something landed on sheets. “I don’t care, Y/N! You’re staying right there, it’s not just your fucking physical issues you have to worry about. I’ve never seen you act like that before, I’m worried about what that fall did to your head.” There was a moment of silence and Connor thought it was a smart time to go inside.

There seemed to be a strange, different sort of silence when he walked into the room. Connor wished his hands were free, there were no objectives or dialogue options to pick from as Hank and Y/N both turned towards him. His hands were full, he looked down to the potted black dahlia between them.

He outstretched his hands and moved towards Y/N. She just stared at him from her spot on the bed, unsure of what to do now, he looked to Hank for an order.

The Lieutenant was watching him with crossed arms and an undetermined look on his face.

Connor cleared his throat and placed the flower down on the table near the bed. He scanned her, a minor concussion, two cracked ribs, and one dislocated shoulder. Her heartbeat was increasing the longer he stared, adrenaline and cortisol reaching a level that told him she was very upset about something.

“Your arm seems to be healing at a good pace. You should listen to the Lieutenant, a couple more days rest and you’ll be feeling much better.” The room remained silent and Connor reached up to fix his already perfect tie. There was something odd about him as he felt the stares of his partners. Something inside felt off.

SOFTWARE INSTABILITY^

“I’m programmed with psychological software that could help you after recovering from a strong shock.”

SUPPORT

ANALYTICAL

STAY QUIET

Connor immediately knew what he said was the wrong choice.

“A strong shock?” Your voice was quiet enough that he almost didn’t catch what you said, but the room was so deathly still it was impossible for you not to be heard. “A strong shock?” You were quickly gaining in volume. “You left me to fucking die! And for what, for the goddamn android to smash its fucking brains out on the interrogation table before we got anything! I would have died for nothing!”

Connor opened his mouth, prepared to argue his side of the problem, but you cut him off with a quiet question he wasn’t expecting. “What was the chance?”

“Sorry?”

You walked up closer to him and tugged his tie so hard he stumbled into you, you used the shock of the movement to jerk him down lower than you. “The chance of my survival, RK800, what was it?”

SOFTWARE INSTABILITY^

That strange feeling was back, the use of his model instead of his name made him feel wrong.

He shouldn’t be feeling at all.

When he took too long to answer you knocked his legs out from under him and tightened your grip on the tie. “40%,” he tried to keep his voice as quiet as possible but it was clear both you and the liteuant heard him.

You released him like it had burned you to keep holding on to his tie, and the Lieutenant muttered a quiet, “Fucking bastard.” Connor opened his mouth, unsure of what to say, but wanting this feeling to stop and needing the tears forming in the corners of your eyes to go away.

You and the bag you had been packing were gone by the time he had gotten to his feet, Hank stayed behind a moment, gave Connor a long look before following after you. Connor straightened his tie and sleeves and stared at his shoes. He didn’t know what to do.

There was no objective, there was nobody to give him an order. He lifted his eyes to the flower sitting on the table in front of him. Out of the corner of his eye he ignored the way his LED flashed red in a mirror as he reached forwards and grabbed the potted plant.

Connor looked down at his hand and noticed he was holding an umbrella, he was back in the Zen Garden. Amanda was waiting for him on the other side of the bridge.

They walked under the umbrella together. “That deviant seemed to be an intriguing case, a pity it deactivated before you could get any useful information out of it.”

Connor felt the need to defend himself, “Deviants are extremely irrational, which makes it difficult to anticipate their behavior… I should have been more effective.” The last part of his sentence came out without any thought behind it. Like it was an instinct to automatically blame himself, even though no one would know what the deviant could have been planning.

“Did you manage to learn anything?” Connor told her of the strange drawings on the walls, the ones like mazes and the journal that had a strange code inside it. He still had no explanation for rA9 and he could tell Amanda was disappointed.

“You captured the deviant at the cost of your relationship with the detective, have you made any development in that fixing that?”

Connor couldn’t help but think of your face in the hospital room, you were angry yes, but you also seemed . . . Sad.

Connor wasn’t sure if what he was feeling was guilt, but he knew he shouldn’t be feeling anything at all.

“She still hasn’t forgiven me for leaving her to fall. We had an altercation in her hospital room, after the fact and whatever good grace we had developed seems to have been erased.” Connor stopped once he realized Amanda was no longer following.

“We don’t have much time. Deviancy continues to spread, it’s only a matter of time before the media finds out about it. We need to stop this, whatever it takes.”

Connor straightened his shoulders back and looked down at her, “I will solve this investigation, Amanda. I won’t disappoint you.”

“Don’t let relationships get in the way of success, Connor. Improve on them if you can, but remember their lives mean nothing in the grand scheme of your mission.”

“Detective?” Connor knocked on your door again. You lived in a house about fifteen minutes away from the lieutenant’s. He’d attempted to contact Anderson to get your address, he’d hung up every time he’d realized it was Connor calling him. Eventually he just used the information from your personnel file.

Which is how he ended up peering through your windows, trying to catch a glimpse of where you were. Eventually he managed to get a small peak through one of your blinds in the living room. You were asleep on the couch, the TV playing, and there was something in your hand. Connor pressed his face fully against the glass and alarms went through his processors at what he saw.

Pills were spilled on the ground and the bottle was empty in the loose grip of your hand. Connor attempted a scan to see if you were even breathing, but after unsuccessfully trying to wake you up and get your attention he simply broke the glass.

Connor quickly dove through the window and rushed to your side on the couch. He took in your appearance, your mouth was open, barely any breath going in or out. Your lips and nails were discolored and there was a clammy feeling to your skin when Connor pressed his hand to your forehead. He needed to get you awake and alert, first and foremost.

He lightly brought his hand down on your cheek, you shifted but stayed unconscious. “I’m sorry, Y/N, but I need you to wake up.”

He brought his hand down harder and your hand immediately swung out in response. Connors cheek whipped to the left at the force of your slap, it didn’t hurt of course, but it still shocked him.

“What the hell? Connor? Did you just slap me?” Connor looked down at you, extremely confused at your sudden alertness. He couldn’t stop you in time to not notice what he had done to your window. “The fuck? Did you break my goddamn window?” You used his face as an assist in pushing yourself off the couch, his hands went to your hips to stabilize you.

Connor stood as you kneeled down by the broken glass on your ground, swaying slightly. “Shit, I can’t afford to fix this,” you groaned at the sight of the rain pouring into the empty frame. “My things! They’re all getting wet.” Connor walked over and moved anything around the frame to the wall, making sure nothing besides your carpet would get wet. You were silent as you went and retrieved some plastic to cover the window up. Connor wanted to say something to you, but he was unsure what would help the situation.

“Why did you bust in here like the Kool-Aid Man?”

“I thought you had overdosed.” You seemed to finally take in the mess around the couch.

“Oh, crap.” Connor watched you as you picked up the pills and put them back in the bottle, he finished up the window and moved towards where you were sitting on the couch. Your head was in your hands like it was bringing you pain.

Your voice snapped him out of his observation. “You know, for a state of the art android, you’re a real dumbass.” Connor looked down at you, his face must have displayed something he couldn’t identify because you laughed a little.

“My nails look weird because I haven’t finished painting them,” you pointed towards the nail polish bottles on your coffee table. “I haven’t used any chapstick or taken my iron supplements, so there’s lips. And I got tired and fell asleep with the pill bottle in my hand. I was gonna take one for my headache but passed out after I opened the damn thing, which is probably why my head hurts so much.”

Connor was disappointed with himself at everything he had missed, he should have seen all that from the window and not taken such drastic measures. His damage to your domicile had only worsened relations between you. Right now, you hated him worse than Hank.

“You were barely breathing.”

You shot him a deadpan look, “Deep sleeper.” Connor fixed his tie and looked around the house for something to occupy himself with. There was trash everywhere, dirty clothes scattered the ground, and old dished piled in the sink.

“Hey, hey! I don’t need your judgy ass android eyes making me feel bad for my pig sty. Okay?”

“Allow me to help, detective.” Your eyes narrowed, you didn’t seem particularly trusting towards Connor. He couldn't blame you, he’d completely destroyed the small bridge of trust he’d managed to make with both you and the lieutenant. “Your shoulder and ribs are still damaged, I understand it’s difficult to take care of yourself right now. Allow me to help you.”

You laid back down on the couch, and Connor thought you were going to ignore him until you spoke up after a couple of moments of silence. “You’re a detective bot, not a house maid.” You paused before waving your hand through the air. “But sure, whatever, knock yourself out. Just stop fucking standing over me like that.” Connor watched you close your eyes, he continued standing there for a few seconds. You seemed to be faking sleep to try and get him away from you.

At least he finally had an objective he could follow now.

TAKE CARE OF Y/N

He started with the kitchen. Cleaning the takeout boxes off the counter and grabbing any dirty dishes scattered around your home. He stopped when picking some napkins off your coffee table, to check on you. Your breathing had settled and your back was turned towards him. You appeared to actually be asleep this time.

Connor frowned at the position your body was in. You were going to do more harm than good sleeping on your worn down couch. He placed the trash can on the ground and stepped silently towards you. He made sure to be as still and gentle as possible as he slowly rolled you into his arms. You only moved once, to settle your head in his neck.

SOFTWARE INSTABILITY^

He ignored the way his thirium pump seemed to move faster and how the blue blood rushes towards his head. It simply wasn’t possible.

Connor went down the hall and to your bedroom on the right. He gently deposited you into your unmade bed and tucked the sheets over your body. He checked your pulse and scanned your body. Everything seems to be working perfectly.

You were just a disturbingly deep sleeper.

On his way out, something shining on the ground caught his eye. He made his way towards your dresser, at the foot of it appeared to be a picture frame. He looked over his shoulder to ensure you were still asleep before he bent down and grabbed it.

You appeared to be around nineteen years old. You were sitting on a roundabout smiling at the camera, your hair done in two French braids. Your arms were wrapped around a young boy around the age of three. He had his hand around your forearms and was making a strange face at the camera with his tongue out. Neither of you seemed aware your picture was being taken at the moment.

The scan confirmed your identity and gave him the identity of the boy.

DECEASED

Anderson, Cole

9/23/2029-10/11/2035.

Y/LN, Y/N

DPD Detective

Other known aliases:

Y/N ANDERSON

Hank had a son, who had died? You both appeared close in this picture. It’s approximately three years before Cole’s death. Could the death of Hank’s son be what caused the drift between the two of you?

Connor heard you shift on the bed and quickly put the picture back down on the floor. He didn’t believe you would appreciate him further investigating your life. Not when you got so upset with him when he simply took a look at your adoption papers.

Connor examined this new piece of information. It was like he was working two cases at once, solving the deviancy problem.

And trying to figure out your unfortunate past with the Lieutenant. Knowing now that the Lieutenant's son had died he could go ahead and assume that’s when your relationship started to go downhill. A year after Cole’s death is when Hank’s divorce became official, according to the papers he not so legally acquired.

The death of a child will often destroy families, if Hank could no longer be a viable partner to his wife, then perhaps he could also no longer be a father to you.

Judging by the Lieutenants drinking habits he didn’t have a healthy view on mental health, or know how to properly deal with grief.

The way you seem to isolate yourself when Connor brings up your past or tries to have a better understanding of your emotional well being, he can also go ahead and come to the conclusion that Hank passed on his unhealthy coping skills to you.

His assumption is proved correct when he comes across a packet of cigarettes buried between the couch cushions. They’re unopened but the plastic surrounding the carton has been picked at. You seem to be trying to stop yourself from giving in to your unhealthy impulses.

Connor frowns down at the box and decides to do you a favor, he throws them in the trash.

Connor continues cleaning up your home while you sleep, attempting to wash and dry your dishes as quietly as possible. The cleaning gives himself something to occupy his mind with, the frantic, buzzing thoughts about deviants and his frustrating partners temporarily quiet while he focuses on one singular task.

PROTECT Y/N

Connor always accomplishes his missions, even if that just means making sure you can wake up to a clean home, or if he has to protect you from self-sabotaging habits.

You wake up to the smell of smoke and a loud blaring alarm.

You’re soaked in a puddle of your own sweat and have no idea where you are or what day it is. Your head shoots up from your pillow at the sound of something crashing onto the floor in your kitchen. You take a second to realize that you’ve been moved to your bed.

Then you remember what woke you up and you’re bolting out of bed. “Jesus Christ,” your kitchen is a smoky haze as you cough on the suffocating smell of something burned. Connor is standing in front of a pan on your stove, simply watching the flames. “Connor!” You grab a lid off the counter and shove him out of the way as you slam it over the pan, suffocating the flames. You quickly grab the metal sheet off the ground and slam it into Connor’s chest. “Quick make sure the sprinklers don’t go off.” Connor runs towards the alarm in the hallway and immediately starts waving it around.

The sight of Connor, the emotionless android who is always calm and collected, frantically running around waving a metal pan in the air, jumping up and down to get closer to the smoke alarm makes you double over in laughter. There’s an ache in your rbis and arm from the force of your laughter, but you don’t care. You haven’t felt this light for years, you haven’t laughed like that in years.

So you allow yourself to bask in the moment, one peaceful moment where you’re not weighed down by anything, except the weight of your own joy.

Connor didn’t hear you laughing until he finally managed to get the alarm quieted. The joints in his shoulders were tired from his wild maneuvering, but it was worth it. This was the first time since you met that his observation of you showed endorphins and a positive change in your body, not one that comes from feelings of negativity.

It felt like something was in his chest, lifting him up and lightening his weight as he watched you.

SOFTWARE INSTABILITY^

Perhaps you did more damage when you attacked him than he originally thought. Your face contorted in pain as you finally raised up from your position. Connor moved before his processors could give him the option to. He tried to be as gentle as possible as he assisted you in standing. He pointedly ignored your protests that you didn’t need help.

You did and you were getting help whether you wanted it or not.

There was still a slight smile on your face as Connor deposited you on the chair next to your table. He moved towards the stove and turned off the burner, dropping the ruined pot in your sink and running water over it, your house still smelled very strongly of burnt food.

He heard a grunt coming from his right, when he turned something inside his head felt strange. LIke he wasn’t okay with what was happening, perhaps humans called this irritation. A concerning thought, but one he ignored in favor of nudging you aside while you failed to open a window.

“Connor-”

The look he shot you when he turned around was enough to get you to sit back down. “Why are you so stubborn? You should not be here alone, you’ve taken too much damage to even do basic household chores.”

You looked around your house and finally noticed all the hard work he had put in. “Holy shit.” There was a look of appreciation on your face until you turned towards Connor. A pout formed on your face and you crossed your arms like a petulant child, “Maybe I wanted the mess. I liked it like that.”

Were you seriously having this argument with him right now? You being difficult for no reason was causing his programming to go haywire. There were red warnings in the corner of his eye telling him he was going to overheat, he dismissed them and stormed towards you.

His hand landed on the table more harshly than he intended, causing you to jump in your seat. “You’re behaving like a child, Y/N, you’re a grown woman act like it! You need my help, there’s nothing wrong with letting me assist you, so just let me help you.” Without consciously activating it the voice he uses during intimidation tactics had been used.

His eyes were drawn down to your thighs, you had them clenched tightly together, your thighs pooling out on the chair below you. Your lips parted slightly as you stared at him. Connor quickly scanned you, your heat level was rising, your heart rate had accelerated and there was an increased level of estrogen and testosterone production. A thermal scan showed an increase of heat in your pelvic area.

ACTIVATE SEXUAL SUBROUTINE?

It wasn’t until the message appeared in front of him and blocked his view of your face did he realize how close he was to you.

This was highly inappropriate. You were injured and still upset with him, there was no need to seduce you.

ACTIVATE SEXUAL SUBROUTINE

He was designed with the intent to complete his mission at any cost. In case there was ever an issue between him and one of his partners and other more illicit methods were needed to gain their support, he was equipped with the capabilities to do so. This wasn’t a situation where methods like that were necessary, so why was there a prompt for it?

Connor backed away from you immediately, it wasn’t right to be taking advantage of your emotional vulnerability. From the corner of his eye he saw you slump back down into your chair. “What-“ you cleared your throat. “What were you even trying to make?”

Connor looked back towards the pot, his hands reached for the coin in his pocket. He needed to do something to get his software back in order. He didn’t turn to look at you, knowing he wouldn’t be able to focus. He thought back to the pasta sauce on your counter. “Spaghetti, for some reason the noodles burned onto the bottom of the pot.” After he was done recalibrating he placed the coin back in his pocket and found it was okay to look at you now.

Your eyes were glued to his hand for a moment before they shot back up to his face. “Burned, to the bottom of the pot? How the hell do you burn water?”

Connor tilted his head to the side, “Water?”

Your mouth dropped open and your eyes widened. “You’re kidding? Tell me you’re kidding.” Connor didn't know how to respond to you so he remained silent. “Oh my god,” you dropped your head into your hands. “You didn’t put water in the pot.”

“Was that required?” You didn’t answer him, instead you stood and walked over to the sink, Connor followed behind you, unsure what you wanted him to do. The both of you stared down into the pot as you lifted the lid, the pasta has blackened at the bottom. Even when you stabbed at it with a knife it wouldn’t come off the pot.

Your, “yeah, it needed water,” was quiet as you went outside and tossed the pot in your trash bin. Connor stood by your opened back door awkwardly, he didn’t feel good at disappointing you and failing his task.

“I apologize Y/N, I failed.”

You snorted, “Big time, how the hell do you not know to put water in the pot?”

Connor looked down at his shoes, “I was not built with cooking capabilities,” he risked a look at you.

You were standing there, just staring at him with your arms crossed before you finally shrugged, “Well then… I guess Barbie’s got you beat.”

“Dammit, Connor, I can feed myself!”

Connor leveled you with a look that allowed for no arguing. “Your dominant arm is dislocated and you refuse to wear your sling, I’m going to assist you.” He pushed the fork against your mouth again and you reluctantly opened your mouth to eat the pancakes he had ordered. This was so humiliating, you were desperate to get him to leave at this point.

After the pot had been destroyed and subsequently disposed of he had ordered some food and you sat down in your living room.

Your entire home was absolutely spotless, when you went to the bathroom you’d noticed he’d mopped the tiles. You were not asleep long enough for him to clean your living room, let alone your whole house.

While you were still against the idea, you could understand why some would prefer android cleaning services to human. You didn’t even want to sit on your couch, afraid of wrinkling the now pristine cousins.

Once you’d sat on your couch, you’d waited for him to leave.

Except, he didn’t, he sat down next to you and then just stopped moving. No blinking, no breathing, just absolute stillness. So, still being pissed at him you’d grabbed a marker off your desk and scribbled some drawings on his face. A heart, random flower, some choice words, nothing too bad. However;

They were staring at you right now as he force fed you.

He’d called a repairman while you had drawn on him, someone would be coming by to fix your window tomorrow, CyberLife would be footing the bill. After he’d made the order for the repair he’d asked what you would like to eat and made a call for the pancakes.

He still hadn’t noticed the drawings, it was a struggle not to choke on your laughter.

You forced a yawn as you pushed his hand away from your mouth, he frowned at the action. “Are you tired, detective?”

“Yeah, I am,” now please get the hell out of my house.

“You should bathe before you go to sleep.” Your head shot towards his, the action hurting your neck. You ignored it in favor of giving him your famous The Fuck Did You Just Say™️ look.

First, he lets you fall off a building and nearly die. Next, he breaks your god damn window and destroys your pot. Now he’s saying you stink. And good grace you held for Connor was gone, obliterated at the comment.

“That’s it Connor. You’ve stayed far past your welcome, I’m done.” Your resolve almost broke at the way Connor’s shoulders slumped. You straightened your shoulders, ignored the pain shooting down your arm, and rebuilt your walls.

You should thank Connor honestly, him letting you nearly die had reminded you of exactly what he was. Nothing more than a plastic soldier that only cared about his mission. You meant nothing to him. Your life was nothing. How could something that could so easily be put into a new body have any idea about death. He couldn’t.

But something that couldn’t die, also couldn’t feel. Those small touches, and the times he would check in on you, it was all manipulation. Just like the way he lied about having a favorite dog, they were all subtle little manipulations to have you as agreeable as possible. And a visceral rage filled you at the thought that he had almost succeeded.

Your heart had almost been his.

You rebuilt your walls and stared him down. “Leave. Now.”

Connor didn’t frown, he didn’t cry or scream at you to let him stay, but the look in his eyes as he stared up at you from his spot on your couch said enough. He looked genuinely hurt at what you said. Not possible.

“You can take your sad little eyes and you can shove them up your ass, Connor. Get the fuck out of my house.” You stormed out of the living room and into your bedroom. He’d cleaned it up and replaced your sheets while you’d waited for the food to arrive.

The lack of your mess made you angrier than it should have. How dare he just come into your house and start acting like he belonged there?

Like he had any right to be near you?

If he could feel pain you would beat him twice as bad as you did after the rooftop incident.

Apparently he’d had to get three parts replaced by CyberLife after what you did. Hank had been complaining about the paperwork the entire time you were in the hospital.

If your arms and ribs weren’t aching you would be pitching a major fit, and ripping the goddamn sheets right off the bed. At the moment, however, the pill Connor had forced you to take was kicking in and making you sluggish.

The only reason you had allowed Connor to stay in the first place was because you were still waking up from your nap. He seemed determined to keep you weak and tired so you couldn’t get rid of him.

You heard footsteps and then a hand was wrapped around your non-injured elbow. “I’m not leaving, detective. Someone in your condition needs assistance.” You turned around in his arms and tried to push him off of you, but he wouldn’t budge. Both of his hands moved to your biceps. The look he gave you made you stop, “Y/N, please, let me help. Please.” He seemed so sad, there was a slump to his shoulders that made him look almost shameful. The tone of his voice made you believe he actually wanted to help, that this wasn’t a part of his programming.

You blamed how easily you gave into him on the drugs.

“Absolutely not!”

Connor was holding your towel in front of him like a shield. “I won’t look, detective, I promise.”

“Hell no! Line drawn! You shall not pass.” He gave you a stern look. Like you should feel dumb for thinking he wanted to see you naked, maybe you were, but you didn’t want any pervy CyberLife techs scanning through his mainframe and seeing footage of you naked. “I’m not gonna let your bosses see me naked.”

Connor seemed to catch onto your train of thought. “I won’t be recording when you’re bathing, I promise we’ll be completely alone.” You crossed your arms, this is one battle he would not be winning. Android or not, your stubbornness was not something to be so easily reckoned with. Connor let out a long sigh, “Fine. You clean yourself, and then we can draw a bath and I’ll assist you with your hair.”

You’d made the mistake of admitting to him that you hadn’t exactly been keeping up with your hygiene while you’d been on the case. You’d been keeping your hair in two braids and have been taking quick showers in between working the case. It was one of your more major flaws. Letting yourself get swept up in the mystery at the expense of your own self-care.

You’d also made the mistake of telling him that it hurt too much to wash your hair, or even attempt to. Now he was insisting on helping you.

Connor looked at your arms and mimicked your posture. “We can stand here all night, detective, I’m not budging.”

You were standing there for two minutes before you realized he was actually being serious. Your chest was starting to ache with the effort of keeping yourself upright. You shifted around and he didn’t even blink. Your skin was starting to buzz with boredom.

After another minute you saw that he wasn’t blinking. Narrowing your eyes and moving closer to his face you waved your hand in front of his face. “Are you serious?” He’d gone into sleep mode, you could tell by the pulsing yellow LED on the side of his face. “Bitch.” And he had ‘coincidentally’ blocked the bathroom exit. Groaning you took the towel in his hands and threw it over his head.

“RK800 wake up.”

Connor’s systems slowly came back online at the sound of your voice. Everything was at 100%, except his optical units didn’t seem to be processing his environment correctly. It took a second before his sensors recognized the fabric of a towel over his head. He sighed and ripped it off his head.

The sight before him had him momentarily stopping. You were in your freshly cleaned tub, bubbles covering your body as you looked at him expectantly. “You wanna help me out or what, sleeping beauty?”

ACTIVATE SEXUAL SUBROUTINES?

SYSTEM OVERHEAT IMMINENT

ACTIVATING COOLING SYSTEM

You looked concerned by the time Connor had managed to calm his sensors, there were parts of him coming online that were not necessary at this moment. He tightened his tie as a poor attempt to get everything back in order. It didn’t work, he was still distracted by your lack of clothes. He could not understand why.

“I’m starting to get creeped out, Connor.” That got Connor’s attention. He never meant to make you uncomfortable.

He moved to sit beside the tub and pulled up his sleeves. “Apologies, detective, my systems were coming back online.” You nodded your head and he hoped you couldn’t see through the lie. Connor used the pitcher beside him to wet your hair and began massaging your scalp as he rubbed the shampoo in.

You moaned as his hands came down to rub your neck. It triggered another cooling process. Much of the rest of your bath was the same, he was struggling with strange impulses that were activating outside his control and programming. When you had leaned your head back on the rim of the tub he’d wanted to press his lips against your stretched neck.

He’d seen humans do it before, but the emotions connected to the act were something Connor wasn’t capable of. He was experiencing what some might call a mental crisis as he helped you wash your hair.

When he was finished, he handed you a towel and went to your room to grab you some pajamas. The picture of you and Cole was facedown on your dresser, moved from the upright position he had placed it in while he had cleaned.

He placed the tank top and shorts you requested on your sink and waited for you in your bedroom. When you walked in you seemed surprised to see him standing by your bed. Your face quickly morphed into one of resignation as you threw your towel on your bed.

Connor made a note to pick it up.

“What now?” He held out the brush in his hands.

“I’ll braid it for you, so you don’t have to worry about styling it with your injured shoulder.” You stopped fidgeting with the end of your shirt and instead gave him a bewildered look. “Is something wrong, detective?”

You cleared your throat before answering, “Nothing it’s- Nevermind.” You sat on your bed with no argument, something Connor was surprised by, considering you seemed to find it necessary to argue with him about everything.

By the second braid you were fully leaning onto his leg, Connor had to keep readjusting so he had room to finish off the braid. The medicine seemed to have fully kicked in, you didn’t make a fuss when he gently guided you under the covers and turned your light off. He knew you were still awake as he made his way to your door.

“Good night, detective.”

He didn’t get a response.

#Broken Machinery #connor rk800 x reader #Connor rk800 x fem!reader #connor rk800 #Connor rk800 dbh #detroit become human #detroit: become human #detroit: connor #dbh #dbh x reader #dbh x fem!reader #detroit become human x reader #Detroit become human x fem!reader

123 notes · View notes

candycandy00 · 7 months

Text

Pick Me Up - A Gojo x Reader x Geto Halloween Fanfic Part 3

Gojo and Geto are two serial killers who enjoy seducing their victims before killing them. Every year on Halloween they have a friendly competition, and this year the target they both choose is you.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

The first two parts will be fairly short and just serve to set up the way these two operate. The third part starts the “main part”. Any feedback or comments are greatly appreciated! Divider by @violetbudd

Smut. 18+. Fem Readers. Smut mostly just thought/talked about in this part. Gojo and Geto are both bisexual.

You’re standing in line at the convenience store, two giant bags of potato chips in your arms. Your friend told you to bring some to the party, so here you are, standing here in a silly white Angel costume. There’s a fake halo on a stick over your head, small white wings attached to a white top that is way too sheer for your comfort. The skirt is shorter than anything you’ve ever worn, and your white thigh-high stockings have little bows at the top. You’re not sure if you’re supposed to look innocent or slutty. Probably both.

Your friends picked out the costume for you, saying it fit your personality. You don’t know what that says about you, but you’ve decided to take it as a compliment.

The teenage boy working the register stares at your chest, not even trying to be subtle. You pay for your chips and for some gas you just put into your car, then you head out.

A group of trick or treaters nearly mow you down as they run into the store, excitedly chanting the familiar phrase as the teenager rolls his eyes and begins dropping handfuls of cheap candy into their colorful buckets and bags. You smile as you watch the little goblins, remembering how much fun you always had as a child on Halloween.

This year is going to be just as fun, you tell yourself. You’ve never been to a large Halloween party before, but you’re really excited. You hum the Ghostbusters theme to yourself as you toss the chips into the backseat and climb into the driver’s seat of your car.

***************

Satoru and Suguru have been sitting in the white van, parked far away from the pumps at the gas station, for a couple of hours now. They’re watching the various people who stop for gas, each trying to pick out their special Halloween victim.

Suguru has one hand buried in a bag of popcorn. “How about her?” he asks, pointing to a “nurse” strutting by.

Satoru takes a bite of the king sized candy bar in his hand. “Nah. Too easy. I want a challenge tonight. Besides, you need to focus on picking your own target.”

“My taste is more discerning than yours,” Suguru says, holding up the small bag to pour the rest of the popcorn into his mouth.

“Wait,” Satoru says, pointing with his free hand toward the door of the convenience store, “look at her.”

Walking out of the store after nearly bumping into some kids is the sweetest looking Angel either of them have ever seen.

“Fuck, she can barely walk in those heels!” Suguru says breathlessly, “Can you imagine chasing her?”

Satoru’s eyes are shining above the rims of his dark sunglasses. “She’d trip so fast. That flimsy outfit would rip… she’d be crawling on the ground, crying her eyes out, begging me not to hurt her…”

Suguru laughs. “Easy, you’re gonna bust a nut.”

“Only in that sweet angel’s mouth,” Satoru says.

“I’m picking her,” Suguru suddenly declares.

Satoru swivels in his seat immediately to look at Suguru. “What? No, I’m picking her!”

“Too late. You didn’t get a chance to cut her fuel line.”

Satoru frowns. “I’ve got other ways of getting her into my van.”

“Really? Like what?” Suguru asks.

Satoru gives him a meaningful look, pulling the shades down. “These baby blues. I could roll up covered in blood, carrying a machete, and she’d still wanna ride my dick after one look into my eyes.”

There’s a moment where Suguru just stares at Satoru silently, allowing himself to get lost in those eyes. Then he looks away. “You’re too full of yourself.”

Satoru laughs, taking anther bite of his candy bar. “Just admit you think my eyes are pretty.”

Suguru ignores him and stares out the windshield, watching the angel climb into her car. “How about we make the contest interesting this year? Let’s both pick her.”

Satoru raises his eyebrows, clearly intrigued by the idea. In years past, they competed to see who could fuck and then kill their individual target first on Halloween night. The rules were pretty simple. They had to act suspicious, and they had to get the target to willingly have sex with them despite throwing up glaring red flags. It was their fun way of testing their own charm and good looks.

“Okay, let’s do it,” Satoru says, grinning. “If you’re lucky, I might just give you sloppy seconds!”

Suguru rolls his eyes. “I hope you like fucking girls with no skin, because that’s the only way you’re having her tonight.”

They both laugh, and then Suguru gets out of the van, heading to his own vehicle so that he can use the backroads to get ahead of her.

*****************

You sit for a minute in your car, trying to send a text to your friends to let them know you’ve picked up the extra chips and are heading towards the party, but there’s no service in this area. Too wooded and remote. You sigh and cram your phone into the small white purse beside you.

A couple miles down the road, you’re blasting Monster Mash on the radio, singing along with the lyrics, when you notice someone walking along the side of the road. You hit the brakes, your car screeching to a halt beside a man with long dark hair, dressed all in black.

If he’s walking along the road in the dark, he probably needs help! You roll the passenger side window all the way down and lean across the seat as he steps over and bends down to look in at you.

“Is everything okay?” you ask him, concern obvious in your voice.

He smiles at you, and you can’t help noticing that he’s incredibly good looking. “I ran out of gas,” he says.

“Well hop in and I’ll take you to the gas station,” you tell him, patting the seat beside you.

He blinks, hesitating for a moment before that charming smile returns to his handsome face. “Are you sure?” he asks, his voice creamy and smooth. “It’s dangerous to pick up hitchhikers, you know. I could be a serial killer.”

You look him over, from his smile to his clean and simple clothing. He sure doesn’t look dangerous. “It’s fine,” you say with a grin. “I’ve got a good feeling about you!”

His eyes widen slightly, then he breaks out into laughter, so much that he clutches his side. “I can’t argue with that logic!” he says, opening the passenger side door and climbing inside.

“Wow, you smell nice,” you say to him, noticing the fresh fragrance of soap, or maybe laundry detergent. “Is that Gain or Tide?”

He glances at you sideways, seeming a little caught off guard by the question. “Uh, I just use whatever’s handy… I don’t pay attention to brands…”

“Well whatever it is smells great.”

He stares at you for a moment before saying, “Thanks.”

You hate the awkwardness of silence so you decide to keep talking. “Do you live around here?”

“No, just traveling through,” he tells you.

“I’m going to a Halloween party,” you say brightly. “But I guess that’s obvious.”

He looks you up and down. His gaze feels hot, and you notice his eyes lingering on your legs. “That’s a cute costume,” he says. “So are you sweet like an angel?”

You laugh and slap his arm playfully. “Is that a pick up line?”

He gives you a strange look, unreadable, then smiles again. “I’m just kidding.”

“Well, if you really want to know the truth, I didn’t pick out this costume. My friends did. It’s a little more, uh, risqué than I’m used to.”

“It looks good on you,” he says.

“Aw, thanks! You’re really sweet!”

Again, that strange look, but then a second later he’s laughing again. You’re not sure how your words were funny at all, but you giggle along with him, caught up in the moment.

He laughs so much he’s nearly in tears, then he looks over at you with a smile that seems genuine for the first time. “Has anyone ever called you naive?”

You nod, smiling proudly. “Yep! All the time!”

He tilts his head, black as night hair falling over his shoulder. “And you’re not bothered by that?”

“Nope! I’d rather see the good in people and be wrong occasionally than always assume the worst of everyone.”

He chuckles. “You’re like one of those virginal heroines from a horror movie.”

You look at him sharply, then quickly look away, heat spreading across your face.

“Haha, you’re totally red right now,” he says, then suddenly his smile disappears as his eyes seem to focus on your face. “Wait… why are you so red right now? Are you… a virgin?”

You wince. “Is it really that obvious?”

His face seems frozen as he stares at you. Then one eyebrow twitches. There’s an excitement in his eyes that confuses you but also gives you a little thrill.

“You really are an angel, aren’t you?” he asks.

**********

When the angel pulls back into the gas station, Suguru doesn’t even have to ask if she’ll drive him back to his car. She volunteers, of course. He smiles and thanks her, and heads into the store to pretend to buy some gas.

To his surprise, Satoru is standing by the magazine rack, thumbing through an issue of Fangoria.

“Not in any hurry, I see,” Suguru says to him.

“I know your patterns,” Satoru shoots back. “So, how is she?”

Suguru picks up a random magazine, not even looking at the cover, and pretends to flip through it. “She’s totally innocent and naive. Kind and sweet. She has absolutely no sense of danger, but I don’t think she’s an idiot. And…”

Satoru looks up at him. “And?”

Suguru meets his eyes. “Satoru, she’s a virgin.”

Ahh, there it is. That positively depraved, monstrous gleam in Satoru’s eyes. “Oh fuck,” he says, dropping the magazine back onto the rack. “I could wreck her so bad.”

Suguru understands the appeal. The thought of ruining something so pure and so good is irresistible to people like them. An image creeps into his mind, of that innocent angel choking on Satoru’s huge cock, and he doesn’t know why it turns him on so much. Because he’s also imagining her thighs trembling on either side of his face, gasping moans spilling from her lips.

“I better get back to work,” Suguru says.

Satoru waves him off with a smile. He must have some kind of plan in mind, Suguru thinks.

After buying an empty red gasoline container, Suguru returns to the car, where the angel is waiting patiently for him. She opens the trunk for him to put the gas inside, and soon they’re on the road again.

***************

The man beside you doesn’t talk much on the drive back to his car. You wish he would. He has such a nice voice. But he smiles warmly when he catches your eye, and he has a way of putting you at ease. You hate to admit it, but you might just be developing a bit of a crush on him.

He tells you where to pull off the road, and soon enough a car comes into view, parked in a wooded area, behind some trees. You stop your car and turn to him, feeling a little sad that it’s time to part ways.

“Here you are! Do you need any help?”

He makes no move to get out of the car, but looks at you with an expression you could only identify as “predatory”. But on him, it just looks sexy. “I’m not in any hurry tonight,” he says, turning to face you. “Are you?”

You feel your face heating up again. And if you’re honest with yourself, you’re feeling heated in another place too. “Well my friends are waiting for these chips,” you tell him. “Do you want to come to the party with me?”

“Actually, I was hoping we could spend some time together, just you and me.”

Ohhhh. He wants to hook up. Right here in the woods. You’re not sure how you feel about that. On one hand, he’s smoking hot. You’ve been getting wetter with each passing moment that he’s been in your car. But on the other… do you really want your first time to be with a stranger? You think about it for a moment, looking at his beautiful face, inhaling his pleasant scent.

Why not live a little?

“Tell me your name,” you say.

He blinks at the sudden shift in the conversation. “Huh?”

You turn in your seat to face him. “I don’t want us to be strangers.”

“Ah, I see,” he says, then he smiles. “I’m Suguru.”

You smile back. “I like that name.” You introduce yourself and then you take a deep breath. “Okay, so what did you wanna spend time doing with me?” You know the answer, but you want to hear him say it.

He scoots closer to you, then leans his upper half toward you. “I don’t think you can handle what I want to do with you,” he says, his voice practically dripping with honey.

You feel a shiver run through your body. Is this really happening? Are you really going to have sex with a guy this gorgeous? That you just met? There’s something scandalous about it that thrills you. “I probably can’t,” you admit, “but you’ll take care of me, right?”

There’s fire in his eyes as he closes the distance between you, pressing his lips to yours and kissing you gently. One of his hands moves to your hair, caressing it, pulling you closer, making the kiss deeper. When his tongue slips into your mouth, you offer no resistance. After a few moments, he pulls away to look at your face. You’re breathing slightly harder than usual as you say, “Wow, that was some first kiss.”

His eyes widen. “That… was your first kiss?”

You blush. “Yeah. Thanks for making it a good one.”

All at once, as if a switch has been flipped, he’s upon you, his hands rubbing over your body, his lips on yours, then on your neck. It’s a bit overwhelming, but it feels good, and there’s a thrum of energy coursing through you. There’s no doubt in your mind that by morning, you’ll no longer be a virgin.

And then you hear it, a strange sound, like someone breaking a large stick in the woods. You put your hands on Suguru’s shoulders and lightly push him back. “Did you hear that?”

He presses forward, nuzzling your neck. “I didn’t hear anything,” he murmurs.

You push him with a bit more force, causing him to stop and look up at you. “There’s someone out there,” you tell him.

He sighs. “There’s no one out in these woods. Trust me.”

You turn around in the seat, looking out all the windows. There! Someone ran by some trees! “I saw someone,” you yell, pointing toward the spot where the figure disappeared.

He looks in the direction you pointed. “I don’t see anything.”

“It might be an elderly person who needs help!” you say, starting to open your door.

He gives you an incredulous look. “An elderly person?”

“They had white hair!”

Suguru’s eyes flatten to unamused slits. “Ah. I see. It’s probably some asshole playing a prank. It’s Halloween after all.”

You slide out of the car. “But what if it’s not? What if some grandma got lost in the woods and needs our help? I won’t be able to relax until I check.”

A look of annoyance passes over Suguru’s face, but he quickly replaces it with a warm smile. “Okay. I’ll help you check.”

“Thanks! You’re a really great guy!”

The two of you move around the car, calling out shouts of “Hello?” and “Is anyone out there?” and even “Shout back if you need help!”

When no answer comes, you run over and open the trunk of your car with the key. “I have a flashlight in here,” you say, digging around. You push the container of gas out of your way, and you notice something strange about it. The container is so light! You reach over and pick it up, and it’s immediately clear that the container is empty. Why would it be empty? Just as the terrible, obvious answer dawns on you, Suguru appears right beside you.

You look up at him with wide eyes. The empty gas can is still in your hands.

His eyes shift to the can, then back to your face. “Ah, I guess the jig is up then,” he says in a casual tone. “What a pity. I really, really wanted to fuck that virgin pussy before I kill you.”

You back away as his words sink in. You watch helplessly as he pulls your keys from the trunk lid and then dangles them in the air. Before he can take a step forward, you fling the empty gas can at him and break into a run as he knocks it out of his way. You only make it a few yards away before you realize running in stiletto heels on uneven forest ground is impossible.

Stopping for just a moment, you tear off your shoes. When you glance back, Suguru is running toward you. In a panic, you throw the shoes at him one at a time before sprinting into the woods.

“Ow, fuck,” you hear him shout, “you almost hit my eye!”

“Sorry!” you yell back, a reflex you couldn’t subdue.

Branches from small trees and bushes scratch you as you flee. Your skirt gets ripped up the side, the thin, cheap fabric of your top is nearly shredded, and your cute white stockings have holes in them now, one of the bows from the top missing. You ignore all of this as you make a beeline for the road.

You haven’t heard Suguru since you threw the shoes. No yells, no footsteps, no crunching leaves. Either he’s a very quiet pursuer or he’s got some other plan for how to catch you. Both options are terrifying.

Finally you break free of the trees and reach the road. You scan the area for Suguru, or your own car. He could easily use it to chase you down. You see headlights approaching and you decide to take the chance that it’s not him. You run up alongside the road, waving your arms.

The vehicle that stops in front of you is a rusty white van, but it looks like a blessing to you right now. The passenger side window rolls down and a man in sunglasses leans over from the driver’s seat.

“You okay, miss?”

“No, some guy is after me! I think he wants to kill me!” Your voice is a bit frantic, but you’re trying to stay as calm as possible to avoid scaring him into leaving you behind.

He looks around as if checking for attackers. Even in your distressed state, you notice how distractingly beautiful he is. He pulls his sunglasses down and looks at you with eyes so blue you almost forget you’re in danger. “Get in,” he says with a disarming smile. “You can tell me all about it and I’ll take you somewhere safe.”

Feeling lucky to be rescued by such a charming prince, you hurry to climb into his van. You look over at him as he pulls back onto the road. “Thanks so much,” you tell him. “You saved my life!”

He grins at you. “Don’t mention it, angel!

Now where can I take you?”

You exhale as you slide down a bit in the seat, trying to decide whether to go to the police or not. You feel like the night has lasted forever, having no clue that your Halloween was only getting started.

Tag List:

@loyal-to-my-dilf @unearthlydream @noodlejitsu @itzmeme @themonst3rqu33n

If you’d like to be tagged in future parts, please comment to let me know! You must be an adult to be tagged!

#gojo x reader x geto #gojo x reader #geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #geto Suguru #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #Geto smut #x reader

140 notes · View notes

llamagoddessofficial · 1 year

Note

DA au but MC is a kid? Maybe her parent keeps leaving her there for a very long time, sometimes for whole weekends and throughout the week?

tehe

Red: She’s generally quite a quiet kid. Especially considering she’s got parents who leave her in a robot daycare for days at a time. It took a long while for Red to work up trust with her, at first she found him overwhelming and she’d just sit in the same corner and not talk to him or any of the other kids.

Now, she comes to life when she’s with her best friend Red. They spend so much time together, they’ve got inside jokes and nicknames for each other. He’s concerned about her feeling neglected, so she gets so much of his time and attention, he makes sure to let her know that despite all the other kids she’s very special and his best friend. If all the other kids have already gone home he takes her on (probably not allowed) tours of the entire pizzeria- since she’s with the daycare attendant, she can play all of the games and do all the activities totally free. Red has spoken to the other animatronics, and they’re sympathetic to her situation, so they often let her come in for special one-on-one meetups to improve her mood.

He’s usually protective, but he’s markedly more protective of her. Other staff are getting a little concerned... especially since once or twice, it sounded like he called her “my kid”.

Sans: He doesn’t like that her parents leave her there for so long. So, in turn, he really doesn’t like her parents. Once, a parent came to pick her up, and entirely out of spite he pretended not to recognise them (he’s got a database of all parent faces) and refused to let them into the daycare without some kind of identification. They had to go back outside to their car and get their license before he let them take her home. He knows he can unnerve some adults, and he takes full advantage of that.

Sometimes, she’s the only kid staying there overnight. Holidays, some weekends, times when other families would all be together... it’s just her and Sans. He does his best to make those nights the most fun- he takes her on secret midnight tours of the pizzeria where she can see all the lights. He has a spare set of star-covered pyjamas set aside just for her. The little enclave on top of the daycare that’s usually just for the DCA gets hastily renovated into a sleepover pillowfort, they have midnight snacks and watch movies, he projects stars onto the walls from his eyelights. When she does finally fall asleep it’s curled up in his arms with chocolate smeared on her cheeks.

She’s started being unable to sleep unless he’s there.

Skull: Skull was the one who got her to come out of her shell and open up to the other two robots. They were concerned they couldn’t get her to talk to them, and after enough constant demanding to be let out, they waited until all the other kids were gone and then let Skull try.

There’s something so calming about his presence. Even if he’s physically intimidating, it only took a few minutes for her to crawl into his lap and play with his hands, sniffling quietly. He spent some time with her, showing her around... and eventually, he asked her if she wanted to meet his friends, Sans and Red.

On days when she’s particularly distraught or quiet, they let Skull take care of her. It can be difficult to make him let her go and it’s usually up to Sans and Red to pull him back down because no way will he give her back to her parents when she’s clearly his baby. But despite the issues, it’s worth it, because sometimes it just seems like Skull is the only one who can get through to her in that way.

He understands feeling like nobody wants you.

#llamagines #DCA au #sans' habit for stealing is getting out of hand #now hes taking neglected kids lol

460 notes · View notes

gaysindistress · 10 months

Text

When Night Comes - ten

Summary: Who would win in a staring contest? New York’s resident mob boss and master of the side eye Bucky Barnes or the daycare teacher who really wants to go home and smoke?

pairing: Mob!Bucky Barnes x reader

warnings: mob!Bucky, cursing, major character death mentions

word count: 2.3k

nine | masterlist

Tag list: @vickie5446 @cakesandtom @thebuckybarnesvault @buckybarnessimpp @hidden-treasures21 @unaxv @thebuckybarnesvault @elizacusi-blog @mal-adaptive-dreams @vonalyn

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on Google/Pinterest

Wyatt, the sweet boy, is playing with her mother’s hand when the car pulls up to the jet. Peggy slides her phone into her pocket as Steve puts it in park and rushes to engulf them in a hug. Too close of a call is how he might describe the events at Sunny’s apartment. When Sunny gets out, Wyatt wiggles out of his parent’s arms and tackles her with the strongest hug he can muster.

“Ms. Sunny, Mommy said you were coming with us on a trip!” She forces a smile when she confirms, “It’s going to be so much fun, bubby.”

Bucky walks behind her and gently grabs ahold of her arm to walk her toward the jet. For the sake of Wyatt, she doesn’t try to pull her arm away and lets him guide her. The boy runs back to his parents and they all climb the stairs to the jet. Yelena is the last one to board with a redhead woman in tow. They’re talking to each other in hushed tones and grow even quieter when they see that Sunny is watching them through hooded eyes.

Bucky leads her to the seat towards the back and sits next to her. Yelena and the other woman sit across from them while the Rogers take their seats in front. Wyatt tries to get a look at all of them but is quickly buckled up by his mother.

“Any word on Alix’s whereabouts?” Bucky asks the two women.

The redhead speaks, “She got into a car with Juliette and head east but after four miles, we lose sight of them. All of their known hideouts within a 20-mile radius are clear but Wanda and Peter are still searching.”

“And Jessica?”

She grimaces at the name, “DOA.”

Sunny chokes and covers her mouth so that the sobs are muffled. Wyatt asks Peggy why she’s crying but she quiets hum. Yelena gives her a sad look and goes to offer her hand which the redhead blocks with a shake of her head. Bucky is closest to her and therefore should be the one to comfort her. He takes her free hand in his and gives it a light squeeze. Rather than dropping it like he expected, Sunny grips it back and turns to face the window.

Her brother laying dead in her arms flashes across her mind and she snaps her eyes shut to will away the painful memories but it doesn’t work. The sirens and EMT chatter fill her senses as she processes that her best friend was not only working with her ex but is now dead. Sunny didn’t even get a chance to come to terms with the betrayal but it doesn’t matter because Jessica’s gone now. The one constant in her life since leaving California no matter how fake it was, is gone now and she’s left with a team of supernatural creatures to protect her. Any shred of hope for normalcy is gone now and the lack of warmth in Bucky’s hand is too harsh of a reminder of that but she can’t let it go. Even if he is the last person she would want to support her, he’s all she has now.

“Yelena,” the redhead, Natasha, says to Yelena, and jerks her head to the side, “Let’s give them space.”

She agrees and they move to join the Rogers. The jet begins its take-off sequence and Sunny continues to grip Bucky’s hand while watching her life disappear once again.

Fresno to New York and now to Bucharest.

Tall grand buildings line the narrow roadways and echo the history that the city has seen. The moon shrouds the city in an ominous light as a few people scurry to get inside before midnight. Only a brave handful wait for the old black car slowly cruising down the cobblestone road and whisper amongst themselves. As the years have passed fewer and fewer people know who this car belongs to but the elders are still painfully aware of its owners. When the driver makes eye contact with the brave onlookers, they give a brief nod and rush inside.

Sunny had yet to speak and refused to look away from the window to watch the city around her. She’s not holding Bucky’s hand anymore but is practically glued to his side. He, Yelena, Natasha, and Steve are all speaking to each other in another language, no doubt talking about Alix and her whereabouts.

“Unde naiba ar fi putut să plece?” Where the fuck could she have gone? Bucky says in a low tone, gripping his hands together tightly to calm himself.

“Crezi că știe unde suntem?” Do you think she knows where we’re at? Natasha offers up.

Peggy twitches at the thought and shudders but not for the same reason as the others.

“Cum a putut?” How could she?

“You can speak in English. I already know what you’re talking about,” Sunny mumbles still facing the window.

Bucky glances over at her before switching back, “Are you sure? I don’t want to upset you.”

“It’s not like I can’t figure it out from your tones.”

“I think we’re done talking anyways,” Natasha says, pulling out her phone and typing away.

Bucky shoots her a harsh look, “We can’t find Alix but we’re safe here. Lycan is banned from Romania so it would be a death sentence if she even tried to come here.”

“As if that’s stopped her before,” Sunny says in her normal tone now turning to look at Bucky, “you said I would be safe in New York but Jessica is dead and I’m in Europe against my will. Can you call that being safe?”

“I didn’t kidnap you.”

“That’s what you focus on? Me accusing you of kidnapping me?”

“Well, I didn't so.”

“Be so fucking for real right now.”

He gives her a blank unamused stare in place of words.

She scoffs and rolls her eyes which causes him to do the exact same. The tension grows thick and the only person immune is Wyatt who is fast asleep on his mom’s lap with his head resting on her shoulder. Steve looks back at Bucky to judge his emotional state but the blank look he has pulled across his face gives no indication of what he is feeling. The only thing Steve can gather is that he’s not pissed off enough to lose his cool but that point is coming very quickly.

“Do me a favor and leave me alone from now on. I’m sick of your shit,” Sunny tells the man who’s been plaguing her every thought for months now. She wants in reality; she wants him in her life and to act like how did at the kickback turned party but she also knows that Bucky is a ghost now. The flirty and carefree Bucky she started to fall for disappeared almost as quickly as he appeared, a thought that tugged at her heart and threatens her emotional state.

“Fine by me,” he agrees with a level of childishness that makes her want to scoff even more. The large, imposing man is not immune to the pettiness that everyone craves to act on.

Wyatt makes a small noise akin to a whimper and everyone jumps into protective mode. Peggy shushes him and gently rocks him back to sleep, easing everyone in the car’s worries. Sunny crosses her arms over her chest and looks back to the landscape outside. She might have once been excited to visit Europe but not in this context with these people. A bittersweet memory this will be.

Peggy quickly puts Wyatt in a bed and checks that he is still asleep as she dials Alix’s number. She gives the room a once over before talking to a very angry Alix.

“Margaret tell me what’s going on?”

Peggy nervously looks over at her sleeping son, “I’m done. I don’t want to do this anymore.”

“No no, you don’t get to do this to me. Don’t back out now. Remember you wanted this. You FOUND me and asked for my help.”

“You didn’t tell me about Y/N so I think our deal should be called off. You withheld information from me.”

“Says the one who asked me to kill your husband’s best friend. How do you think Steve would feel if he found out?”

“You wouldn’t do that.”

“Really? I think I would,” there’s a pause, “Did you get that witch to hex his gun?”

“Yes but…” “But nothing. Get him to shoot it and follow through with the plan like a good little bitch. It shouldn’t be that hard, he’s a mob boss anyways.”

There’s a click and the dial tone replaces Alix’s voice. Peggy wants to scream and shatter her phone but the sleeping child only feet from her stops her. Instead, she sinks to sit next to him and lays behind him. Cuddling her son, she starts to cry. The years of unhappiness take over and she lets all of her tears flow. She had met Steve in the 40s when she was visiting New York after she graduated high school. Immediately enthralled with his sweet smile and gentle ways, she spent those three weeks running around the city with him. He showed her everything she’d wanted; freedom and unconditional love but it came with a cost. She would have to leave her life behind and join him and Bucky in their business. At the time, she had been blinded by the winds of her first loved and agreed before fully understanding what his conditions meant for her. Peggy refused to go back to England and married Steve the day she was supposed to leave. He swept her off of her feet and brought her to the house they are in now, the Bucharest estate. Then is when she learned the full story of who Steve was and who Bucky was for that matter. She had been horrified and rightfully so. Steve hadn’t told her about their illegal business or their true nature and it came as a massive shock to her system. The only person who provided comfort was Bucky’s wife, Celeste.

Celeste had been with them since they turned 100 years prior. She had been a vision of heaven and a spitting image of Y/N. The two women were identical down to their smile and laugh. Celeste told Peggy stories of how she fought Bucky for years before finally agreeing to marry him when their love began to blossom. When it came time for Peggy’s turning, Celeste had been right by her side the entire time and walked her through every step of the way. The day Bucky found her body in the river nearby in New York, his screams of agony could be heard for miles. A rival mob had gotten to her and done unspeakable things to her. Peggy felt like it was her fault because the two women had vowed to each other that they would protect each other when their husbands were gone. She had failed Celeste, something Bucky never forgave her for, and ever since, he had given her the cold shoulder. Peggy couldn't take it anymore and turned to the very mob that had taken Celeste to now take out Bucky.

It had been Alix’s great-grandparents who had murdered Celeste so it only seemed fitting that she be the one now to end Bucky’s life. The emergence of Y/N had complicated things seeing as how much he had changed since meeting her but the plan was too far gone and she couldn’t stop it.

Peggy had already hammered the final nail in Bucky’s coffin with no way to open it.

The only remaining picture of his bride had been locked away in his room shortly after she’d died. In his grief, he had all of her pictures and belongings put into her study, permanently locking away any memory of her. One small portrait from their wedding day remained on his bedside table and he all but refused to look at it. Only Steve and Peggy knew of her and what she looked like however that didn’t stop him from pursuing Sunny. Bucky knew it was wrong; chasing after a lookalike in hopes that she would match his Celeste. Imagine his surprise and joy when Sunny did mirror her in every way down to how she pushed him away at first.

Trying to replicate what they had would not end well for him but he had been assured by witches that Celeste would return to him and here she was. Bucky watches the doppelganger… Sunny walked down the halls of their home, head moving quickly back and forth to take in all that she must have missed. It had been just shy of 80 years since she had been home and he could only imagine the yearning her heart must have been feeling. His heart has ached nonstop since her death and now that she stood only feet from him, it began to slow to a dull throb. Sunny did not love him in the way Celeste had but she would or at least that’s the hope he clung to after all these years. It’s the only option and he would do anything to ensure that she found that love he knew she had for him.

I love you. Always and forever.

That had been their promise to each other. Sunny would learn that phrase too and soon would echo it back when he held her at night.

Just not right now.

So with a heavy heart, Bucky seals away her feelings and hopes she has the chance to find her way to him. She had to do it on her own without his influence or it wouldn't be true as the witch told him. Sunny’s hand itch to touch the paintings that line the walls and she looks over her shoulder at him in amazement. It crushes him to see the same look that she had when they picked out those paintings but nonetheless, he offers her a half smile and turns his attention anywhere else.

Always and forever needed to come sooner.

119 notes · View notes

let-them-read-fics · 1 year

Text

You Again?

Pairing: Jiu x Fem!Reader

AU: Non-Idol

Warnings / Misc. -- Some Angst, Smut, Fluff, Happy Ending :)

Word Count: 9,955

Summary: Y/N and Jiu have history. Unresolved tension, unanswered questions, lingering desire: the inconvenient kind. But when they both unwittingly agree to attend a mutual friend's vacation trip, they're forced to confront their feelings head on and learn to live with one another again.

Why, exactly?

Because they just so happen to be rooming together.

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: Hi everyone! I apologize for my absence, but I hope you enjoy this piece :) I have more stories coming, so stay tuned! 💖 Make sure to eat something good today and drink plenty of water.

💖 Happy Reading 🌹

◂ ❚ ⊱ꕥ⊰ ❚ ▸◂ ❚ ⊱ꕥ⊰ ❚ ▸◂ ❚ ⊱ꕥ⊰ ❚ ▸◂ ❚ ⊱ꕥ⊰ ❚

This has got to be a day for the record books. One of the worst, most unfair in all of human history.

Well, let’s be realistic: one of the worst in your life. Maybe “human history” is a bit of a stretch – though you can’t exactly blame yourself for giving into the dramatics at a time like this.

The sound of your best friend sighing in frustration brings you out of your annoyed daze, pulling your attention back to her.

“Y/N, you’re acting like a child. It’s only for one night.”

“Exactly, Y/BFFs/N; one night is far too long for the two of us to be around each other.”

She scoffs, but you don't budge. There's no way you're accepting this without a fight.

"Why don't we have somebody else switch?" You suggest.

She shakes her head, dismissing you. "Most of the girls already went up," she explains, motioning behind herself to the cabin. Sure enough, you can see shadows moving within the rooms – forms hidden behind pulled curtains, almost taunting as they shift around in the visible lamplight.

“And I’ve already told Jiu about it.”

You roll your eyes.

"Plus we all sorted this out beforehand." She shrugs. "Since you both joined at the last minute, it only makes sense to put you together."

Now it's your turn to sigh. Suddenly, an idea pops into your head.

"How about I sleep in the car?" You brighten at the thought of your own scheme; quite literally anything would be better than being trapped between four walls with Jiu.

"Ha ha, very funny," Y/BFFs/N mocks, clearly not amused. "You can't stay out here. You'll either freeze to death or waste all of our gas trying not to, and I don't think you really wanna do that."

A disappointed tut leaves you; your warm breath turns to a puff of white air before dissipating into the night.

Alright, maybe it's colder than you thought. Maybe.

"I'll talk to the others tomorrow morning and see what I can do, okay?" She offers, bringing a hand up to rub the back of her neck. She looks tired, and a pang of guilt washes over you when you notice it.

"Okay. I'm sorry." Regret shines in your eyes, but it's quickly eased by the growing, sleepy smile on her face.

"Don't worry about it," she reassures you, looping an arm with yours. The two of you fall in step together, heading back to the cabin.

"I know it's difficult, after everything. But it's just a few hours. I'm sure you can survive that, no?"

You shake your head, though you're grinning.

"We'll have to see. I'm sure she'll make it hard."

Y/BFFs/N slides her free hand along the polished oak handle of the porch's glass door, opening it for the two of you.

"Just be civil and it'll all be fine. You don't even have to talk."

The resulting glare you send her makes her laugh.

Tonight will definitely be the death of you.

–

Across the first floor, tucked away in the kitchen, Jiu is hard at work. She stands in a pair of shorts and an oversized sweatshirt, cleaning the grill she helped prepare dinner on earlier. A few strands of her hair have evaded the grasp of her ponytail holder, coming down to frame her face as she scrubs away.

“Why don’t you just save that for the morning?” Someone unseen inquires, sounding half asleep.

She turns around to find one of your friend’s other invites moseying over to the center island, bottle of water in hand. Her face is scrunched up some, and the small bags under her eyes immediately remind Jiu of who she is.

It’s Sua, the person who pre-gamed too early and overexerted herself when the group first arrived at the cabin earlier this morning. She’s been nursing a headache for the past few hours as a result.

The low groan that she lets out as she hauls herself onto the high-top chair makes Jiu giggle, but she stifles it to the best of her ability. The younger girl has managed to brighten everybody’s moods all day long despite feeling how she does; she's truly a gift.

“I want to get it done so I can rest easy,” Jiu finally answers.

Sua rolls her eyes. “Sleep now, clean later. This is a vacation for a reason, you know? We deserve to procrastinate.” She raises her bottle to her lips, taking a long drink.

“You do that, I’ll clean,” Jiu resolves, nodding to herself.

“Suit yourself, pabo.”

Sua folds her arms on the countertop and lays her head down, yawning as she nuzzles her cheek against the soft material of her sweater. Jiu glances at her and smiles, amused. She appreciates her nonchalance likely more than anyone else on this trip; it’s distracted her from her worries.

Namely, you: her biggest inconvenience.

When news reached her of Y/BFFs/N’s plans for a week-long getaway, she was intrigued. Work had been a hassle, she was stressed, and all in all she just needed a break. So, she pulled some strings, got her shifts covered, and took the time off.

All was well for the first few hours, when everyone was at Y/BFFs/N’s house, readying up to make the long drive to the forest resort; but then you made a surprise appearance there, busting in and looking just as good as you did the last time Jiu saw you.

Effectively, it ruined her mood.

You’d glanced at her, then, when you first walked through the door. She was the one closest to you, having been on her way to get a refill of the drink she had in hand. Truthfully, it felt like slow motion; for a second, it was like the two of you were back to where you had been all that time ago.

When you were still together.

You crossed the threshold with an eager smile, luggage bags weighing heavy in your hands before you allowed them to slip off your fingertips and land on the ground with a soft noise of impact. She met your eye for a fleeting moment, and she unconsciously took a small step toward you. Her lips began to pull back in the soft grin that you always told her you loved, mimicking the happy expression on your face. For that foolish second, she was transfixed. Foolish.

It was as if you were looking through her; you hadn’t actually perceived her at all, really. She was a passing face as you searched for Y/BFFs/N’s, only caring to register hers.

Just before Jiu could utter a word or reach you, a loud cheer rang out from behind her. The entirety of the group had picked up on your arrival, word spreading fast throughout the living room once one of them caught a glimpse of you.

She cursed quietly and retreated a few steps, allowing the excited crowd to gather around you and visit.

You happily shared the story of how your boss – who’s always regarded you with a distant indifference – finally showed her humanity and adjusted the schedules so that you could have some time off. Not the entire week, of course, but a few days to go and be with your friends. Everyone seemed genuinely happy to see you; even the ones who barely knew you, having only heard of your existence through the stories that Y/BFFs/N had told them. It all made Jiu feel like the odd one out.

But she could remember a time when just hearing your name made her heart flutter, too, so she couldn’t exactly fault them.

From a distance, she watched you. How you moved. How your hands danced around as you explained your stories. The way your lips pouted and pursed with every syllable, almost taunting her.

She thought she had gotten over you months ago, after things ended. She thought she was stronger than this; but clearly, moving on would be impossible with you around. That was to be done separate, no more strings attached. The idea of having to look at you, to hear your laugh, to be near you in such a way and pretend like everything was fine seemed unfathomable. With every trace of you gone, maybe, maybe then she could move on.

Anything less destroyed even the chance of closure for her. But, she supposed, closure would just have to wait a week or so.

—

25 Minutes Later

Put lightly, Jiu is avoiding you.

After washing the grill and dishes, she took her time with leading a groggy Sua back to her room and making sure she got settled fine. She made some small talk with some of the other girls in passing, but nothing as serious as she was looking for.

She’d be happy to debate the meaning of life right now if it kept the two of you apart for a little longer.

But with lights out rapidly approaching and everyone dragging themselves to their respective rooms, she knows the chances of that are nearing zero. So, begrudgingly, she makes her way up to the suite.

With every step she takes, she wonders what you’re doing in there. Are you already asleep? Reading? Watching television? Maybe you’re scrolling mindlessly on your phone. Maybe you’re not even in there at all.

The questions pile up in her mind until she eventually gets fed up and decides to be unaffected for once. Or, at least, to appear that way. She shouldn’t care regardless, and she reminds herself of that fact. All the two of you have to do is make it through the night, and then something can be arranged so that you can stay far, far away from one another. Not so hard, right?

Wrong. Certifiably, absolutely, unequivocally wrong.

When Jiu opens the bedroom door, she finds you fresh out of the shower. A lacy bra adorns your upper half, while a towel is wrapped around your waist; you’re bent over your suitcase in search of some shorts to wear.

She looks away quickly, but it’s too little too late; even as she shuts the door and turns around, pressing her forehead to the wooden surface, she can picture your body.

She mentally curses the water droplets that run their paths down your chest and abdomen, free as they edge closer and closer to where the towel meets your waist. They touch you in a way that she never can again, and she hates that.

More specifically, she hates the fact that she wants to.

Your eyes land on her as you stand up, shorts in hand. A heavy feeling of embarrassment settles over you.

“Uh, sorry,” you mumble, not knowing what to do.

She turns back around to face you after a moment, but she refuses to meet your gaze. If she does, her resolve will surely falter and crumble.

“There should still be plenty of hot water left if you’d like to take a shower,” you offer, extending an olive branch of sorts. From the angle you have of her face, you can see relief spread across it.

She wastes no time in sending you a quick thank you and slipping off to the safety of the bathroom, leaving you to question what the hell just happened.

Most of the time, she’s engaging and bold; her liveliness is one of the things that made you fall in love with her. Even at the end of your relationship, when things were falling apart, it was never like this; she never refused to look at you as many times as she had today, or been so weary anytime you entered a room. She never used to despise you so much, and as that sinks in you realize just how much it hurts.

Despite everything, you hate how unbothered she is.

While you’ve watched her from afar all day, agonizing over the curl of her lip when someone said something witty or the sound of her easy banter with the other girls, she’s clearly been fine. Paying you no mind doesn’t seem to be a challenge for her anymore, and you dislike that more than you thought you would.

Truth be told, you hadn’t prepared yourself for that. With the scope of your relationship and the lack of closure you received, it only made sense for you to assume she’d miss you as much as you miss her. To be just as affected now, by it all, as you have been.

But that’s clearly not the case.

—

Once she’s alone, Jiu takes the opportunity to steady herself. Her hands find their way to the cool marble countertop of the sink, and she draws in a deep breath.

She can’t stand you.

Now, from just that small interaction, all she can think about is you. The subdued lighting of the room only brought out your features more, leaving shadows to fall across the parts of you that were untouched by it. Your muscles pulled and strained as you sifted through your bag, parting clothes left and right in search of your shorts. She could see your face, too, looking just as kissable as always.

She really can’t stand you.

Defeatedly, she turns the water on. The cold streams down, unaccompanied by any real heat whatsoever; this will be a freezing shower, she’s decided. She doesn’t trust what she might do otherwise, alone in here with her thoughts of you and steam clouding her judgement.

The subtle throb between her legs is enough to warn her; she knows she’ll do something stupid if she doesn’t stop herself now, before it has the chance to start.

When she strips out of her clothes, she does her best to think of anything other than the way you used to undress her. How you sat on your knees before her, slowly inching her pants down as your warm lips left kisses in their wake. How you’d take your time with her panties afterward, holding eye contact with her and stopping your motions anytime she looked away.

Even now, goosebumps rise to her skin at the memory. It was torture then, but for entirely different reasons.

She was promised sweet release then, no matter how much you may have edged or tested her. Now she'd consider herself lucky to even be rewarded with a conversation.

Shaking the thoughts from her head, she steps into the tub. The frigid water makes contact with her back, and she has to sink her teeth into her lower lip to keep from shouting. But if this is what it takes to keep you out of her mind, then so be it.

–

The muscles of your neck and shoulders ache as you sit at the mahogany desk on the far side of the room, half-heartedly working on the report your boss asked you to start. It was what you had to give in order to take the time off, which is only reasonable. Even still, you're having a hard time staying focused.

The desk faces one of the large bay windows of the room, overlooking the forest and mountains that surround you. Darkness completely envelops the land, save for the occasional house light far off in the distance. Moonbeams hit the treetops, coating them in a sparkle that contrasts with the midnight sky.

Nearby, an electric fireplace crackles, reminding you of its presence. It's situated as the centerpiece of the lounge area of the suite, providing the room with some additional warmth and light from its place beneath the television. Faux flames waver within it, vibrant as they mingle with one another. Some burn brightly while others glow dimly; the wild versus the tamed.

Despite everything, maybe this trip will do you some good. Escaping the hustle and bustle of your life back home is always a plus, and being in nature never fails to ground you again. Some circumstances might be unsatisfactory, sure, but you're determined to not let that stop you from enjoying this time away. You deserve it, after all.

Just as you find the inspiration to start your reporting again, another one of your distractions makes herself known.

From the bathroom, a pleasant humming fades in; it's Jiu, reciting the chorus to one of her favorite songs. She breaks into vocals occasionally, switching between the two.

No matter how much you wish you could, you can't deny that it sounds perfect, coupled with the atmosphere that surrounds you. Given its range and ease, her voice has always been a comfort; getting sick of it is simply impossible. That fact annoys you, but at the same time you give up trying to fight it; you know there's no use.

It takes you back in more ways than you know how to handle, but you don’t complain. For now, you’ll bottle up this feeling and store it away for later, when you part ways and return to the chaos of your own lives.

Maybe then you could open such a Pandora’s Box.

A few minutes later, she finally emerges from the bathroom; you attempt to ignore the urge to perk up. It's difficult, no doubt, after being left to your own devices for so long. Knowing she's so close and yet so unattainable doesn't help either.

You don't turn around, just in case she isn't fully clothed.

It isn't anything you haven't seen before, but you're afraid you don't have that kind of permission anymore. The last thing you want to do is overstep.

Jiu wishes you'd look at her.

One thing she misses the most about you is your attention. You always paid it so freely – so willingly – rarely taking it off of her. It was ready for her anytime she wanted it, mainly because she had you so enraptured.

Just the same as you’d always watched her, she watched you. She lived for the way your eyes lit up whenever she smiled or laughed, shining beautifully in a way they never did otherwise. She ached over how they darkened when she'd strip, parting her legs for you and putting herself on display.

She was the art and you were the beholder. The only one she ever wanted to share herself with.

But now is a totally different time. You don't even so much as glance in her direction when she comes out, with her towel draped precariously around her body in a way that she was sure would drive you crazy.

It’s disheartening, but it doesn't make her want you any less. As she opens her bag and retrieves her clothes, slipping them on, she keeps an eye on you through the standing mirror in the corner of the room.

Your legs spread as you readjust in the chair, making an attempt to rid your muscles of the tension within them. They're tight with the culmination of all the stress you've felt lately.

When you allow your head to loll back, rolling from one side to the other, Jiu has to stop her wandering hands. The angle of the mirror allows her to see the way your brows knit together, pain and pleasure intermingling. She doesn't know how much longer she can stand this.

One of your hands finds its way to your shoulder, rubbing a knot there, and Jiu gets an idea. Is it wise? Not in the slightest. But is she going to give in and go with it? Absolutely.

What was it that Sua said earlier? This is a vacation for a reason. She can escape sound judgement and reason for now. Surely they'll return in full once you're out of the equation again, anyway.

She deserves to be a little reckless for once.

"Y/N," she calls, getting your attention. You wordlessly turn to look at her.

A bottle of lotion rests in her hands; she nervously toys with it.

"You can use some of this for your shoulders, if you want. It works pretty well."

You consider her offer. "Thanks, but I'm alright," you declare, turning her down. "I can't reach what really hurts anyway."

A beat passes before her eyebrows gently raise. "I can help you," she says, trying to keep the eager tone of her voice at bay.

You pull a face. "Are you sure? You don't have to do that."

I want to, she thinks to herself.

"It's not a problem." She shakes her head, cementing her decision. "Just come here and lay down."

You stand and relent with a soft noise of acceptance, almost imperceptibly. She takes notice of the way your eyes track down her body before dropping to the floor, lingering just a second too long for innocence.

She dismisses the thought at once, not wanting to give herself hope.

When you cross in front of her and pause, though, slipping your shirt over your head with a subtle glance at her, it’s all she can do to restrain herself. The fading sunburn that you received earlier in the day, stretching across your nose and cheeks, looks like a natural blush from this close.

She wants to kiss it.

“Thank you in advance,” you say over your shoulder, carefully laying down on your stomach. The fluffy comforter welcomes you in full, partially distracting and preventing you from overthinking what you’re about to experience.

She takes a steadying breath and releases it, glancing up at the ceiling like she’s pleading with a higher power.

"Don't mention it," she dismisses, getting on the bed after you.

In her mind, she debates the best way to go about this. Where should she sit? Overstepping the unspoken boundaries you've established isn't something she wants to do.

Her fingertips play with the hook of your bra, sliding over the material. "Can I…" she trails off, both of you aware of what she's asking.

"Go ahead," you permit.

She unclips the fastener and watches as the two sides fall down, fully exposing your back to her. Once you slip it off of your arms and toss it towards your suitcase, her fingertips ghost over your skin, tracing the gentle curve of your spine.

She dons a musing smile when she notices goosebumps appearing in their wake.

Perhaps she was wrong. Maybe all along, you've been the art and she the beholder.

Her knees go to either side of your waist as she moves to straddle you, settling down onto you. Once she's sure you're comfortable, she retrieves the bottle of lotion from its place on the bed and squeezes some out onto her fingertips.

It's smooth as it slides against them, medicated and cool. Her favorite brand makes it, and she never leaves the house without it. She'll be thanking her lucky stars endlessly for that habit after tonight.

Something crossed between a hiss and sigh fights past your lips when she makes contact for the first time, spreading the chilly cream across your shoulders. The attempt she made to warm it beforehand clearly didn't work as well as she thought, and she has to stifle a laugh at your reaction.

Beneath her fingers, your muscles tense and jump; you do your best to relax them as she pushes harder, kneading them with care. She does so with a steady rhythm, using the base of her hands to loosen you up first before focusing her fingers on the more persistent knots. Every circle of her hands against you warms the lotion up more, convincing you to relax and give into the relief she’s able to provide.

You close your eyes, wanting to focus on her motions.

What you failed to prepare yourself for, though, is the notion that she’s closer to you than ever. Only separated by the material of your shorts and hers, she sits atop you, her warm thighs trembling slightly with effort anytime she has to push herself up to reach you better.

When she steadies herself on your lower back, splaying a hand across it, you can feel the subtle way her hips rut against your ass as she readjusts her position.

Maybe you're just imagining it.

Serious work is put into leaving that idea behind, but at every opportunity she gets, Jiu seems to enjoy feeding your delusion.

When she accidentally gets too much lotion at once, her solution comes in the form of leaning down and running her hands up your outstretched arms, reaching as far as she can to further spread it. In the process, her front presses against the length of your body; her breathing is shuddered, too, just like yours.

Did she do that to show you it’s mutual?

If only you knew.

Her eager eyes rake over your body, pleased to have you like this in front of her. At her mercy, reacting to the faintest of touches. Possessing this kind of power again makes her feel brave in a dangerous way; should things continue like this unchecked, she might do something impulsive.

But, is she to be blamed? No; she rejects that.

The subtle rock of your hips is far guiltier than her, adding fuel to the fire of her imagination. The way your hands fist in the sheets, fingers twisting in a show of pain and pleasure whenever she hits a particularly sensitive spot, are in the wrong; the sight makes her wonder, for a desperate second, how they would feel in her hair.

Her motions – now more wanton, unafraid of touching you – grow a little more rough, shying away from demurity. They’ve arrived at your waist now; a risky place to be.

She can tell that the appropriate amount of time for two exes to spend doing something like this is dwindling fast; the window of propriety will be closing soon, leaving any further contact between the two of you up for suspicion. She’s aware of that, and yet she has no desire to stop.

In this game of yours, she’s merely a pawn; that’s something she realizes when the sound of a guttural, appreciative moan from you makes her heart flutter wildly.

She freezes in place, taking a cautious breath; she shouldn’t have enjoyed it as much as she did.

A few beats pass… one…. another…. before you ultimately take her stunned reaction as a sign of discomfort.

“Uh, thanks again,” you say quietly, suddenly feeling ten times too exposed and five hundred degrees too hot. A couple taps to her leg gives her the memo, and she climbs off of you.

Embarrassed and upset with yourself for doing such a thing, you refuse to even so much as make eye contact with her again.

An apology from you fizzles into the air, but she’s still too overwhelmed to fully process what just transpired. It all happened too fast; she wants to go back and relive it, but it’s too late. You’re already slipping your shirt back on and burying yourself under the covers, humiliated. When you cover your face with the pillow, debating on smothering yourself, she spares you by reaching over and turning the lamp off.

She lifts her side of the covers afterward, getting in beside you. You face away from one another, back to back, establishing distance once again.

This night is proving to be anything but predictable.

—

2:07 AM

Insects perform their songs outside, languidly calling to one another from high above – nestled in the leaves of the tree tops – and far below, amid the grassy trails and branching networks of hills. All is calm… until it isn’t.

Suddenly, the stillness of the night is interrupted by a recurring, unintelligible noise.

The first time you hear it, you ignore it, opting instead to bury your head a little deeper into your pillow. It's probably just the house settling or something outside, you reason.

The second time, you're annoyed enough to pause your attempt at restful sleep with the hopes of discovering its source and stopping it.

It comes again a little later, but from somewhere you never would've expected. Rather, you suppose, someone.

Your name takes the shape of a mumble as it slips through Jiu's lips, altered slightly from how her cheek is pressed to her pillow. Any other time you might find it exciting to hear her say it, but here and now, you can't say you do.

Warmth spreads to your cheeks as your sleepy mind recalls what happened just a few hours ago, making you relive your embarrassment.

The noise comes again, and a little louder this time; an irritated groan leaves you as you take one of the throw pillows and nudge her, attempting to quiet her. It seems to work for a minute, but just as you settle back down to rest again, something even worse happens.

"Y/N… ah," she moans, her voice breathy and ragged.

Is she...?

Your eyes open wide when you realize what's taking place right beside you.

Jiu is totally having a sex dream about you.

What a revelation to have.

She writhes in search of relief, causing the covers to fall down her body and expose more of it. Her pajama top, too, has ridden up and ruffled in her pursuit of friction.

She looks an absolute mess, you realize, as you roll over to look at her. Her hair splays across the pillow in every which way, her chest rises and falls at a faster rate than normal, and her thighs push together to lessen the throbbing between them. Your blood runs cold when you notice that she isn’t wearing her shorts anymore. Only a pair of lacy, white panties conceal her, gleaming in the moonlight with a softness that begs to be touched.

Hot and bothered is the only way to describe her.

"Please," she whines, desperation hanging heavy on the tones of her voice.

Selfishly, you don’t wake her right away. Seeing her like this, so close and beautiful, is something you don’t want to give up again. At least not yet.

Her full lips part as her head pushes into the pillow, exposing her neck. Her muscles are pulled taut as she squirms; her hands fisted in the sheets at her sides. A thin sheen of sweat is visible on her forehead, showing just how affected she is.

Maybe you should play nice and put an end to her suffering…

Her hips begin to rock, slowly at first; the motion draws a soft sigh from her as she finally gets some relief. Your body begs you to touch her in some way, feeling your own desire grow at the sight of her.

Unconsciously – and to prevent you from reaching out to her – your fingers thread themselves in the cover that's thrown haphazardly over you. You bite your lip to keep it busy; otherwise you'd be tempted to wake her up with your mouth, as she's asked you to before.

Only when your own arousal becomes too much to bear do you decide to end this little game.

She whimpers when you move in closer, still a world away. Her hand falls on your thigh, however, making you falter for a moment. It's warm and dangerously close to your center, trembling slightly against you. Her nails threaten to leave indentations, should she flex her fingers the right way.

Unable to deny yourself such a simple pleasure, you allow it to stay where it is.

"Jiu."

She doesn't stir. If anything, the sound of your voice only drags her further under. Her breath hitches in time with another stutter of her hips.

You'll have to try harder.

“Jiu, wake up,” you whisper, leaving a kiss on her cheek. Your lips hover nearby to utter her name again, should they need to.

Gently, you bring a hand to her shoulder and shake it, hoping to coax her out of her dream and back to reality. After a moment, your plan works; her eyes open gingerly, blinking a few times to adjust from her daze.

“Y/N?” Confusion is prevalent in her voice, coupled with her drowsiness. It’s cute, really, and it takes you back to all the mornings you would wake up by her side.

“It’s me; I'm here,” you reassure her, moving your hand to her hip. Now with your arm stretched across her body, you can feel the warmth radiating from her. It starkly contrasts with the chilly air of the room, making you want to hide away under the covers and pull her in close.

But, of course, you refrain. That’s not something you can do anymore.

Her dark eyes shine in what little light the room has to offer, gazing up at you with a sweet innocence that you find endearing. She's vulnerable in this state, and yet by the way she shifts closer in your arms, she makes it known that she trusts you.

You watch as her gaze travels down your arm, towards where your hand still rests against her hip. Momentarily, she looks as if she's questioning something within her mind – attempting to piece something together.

"Y/N, did we…?" She trails off, unsure.

"Did we what?" You push, testing the waters. You have an idea of what she wants to know, but hearing her say it would be so much better.

Surprisingly, she puts her hand over yours, keeping it in place.

"Did we have sex?" The question comes out in a husky whisper as she makes an effort to be quiet.

You shake your head in reply as a slightly humored smile works its way onto your lips.

The movement draws her attention to them; they're a beautiful shade, with the moonlight hitting them just right. She can't find it in herself to look away.

A few seconds pass before you speak again; her hand grips yours a little tighter.

"It was just a dream. You–"

Your explanation is cut short by her lips as they press to your own in a swift kiss.

Reckless.

You pull away at once, almost like you've been burned. Why would she do that?

Both of you pause, regarding one another. Your eyes work hard to decipher her intentions – what she wants – through the darkness of the room, as if they have such a gift. Hers do the same, searching your face for the answer she wants.

She gets it in another form, however, as your hand slides higher on her waist. Her heart lurches in her chest, its rate increasing somehow. Part of her is afraid you can feel it; but, truthfully, that's exactly what she wants. If you could feel how badly she needs you in this moment, maybe you'd show some mercy and help her.

Maybe.

Tension hangs heavy in the air of the room as she slips her hand higher, too, moving it between your thighs. The heat that's come to pool there encourages her, compelling her to cup you through your clothes.

You gasp, earning a smile from her. You clearly aren't as over her as you pretend to be.

Empowered, she rolls you over, trading your positions. Now she hovers over you as you lie on your back, waiting with bated breath to see what she'll do.

Her hand slides up and over the waistband of your shorts slowly, edging closer and closer to your center with only your panties separating her from you. Your eyes flutter closed in response.

"I'm going to kiss you again," she whispers, sounding more confident than ever. "If you want me to stop, tell me. Okay?"

You nod, trying to stay still. Fighting the urge to rock your hips into her hand is easier said than done.

She leans into you, letting her body mold into yours as she shuffles closer. She replaces the hand between your thighs with a leg, giving you something to grind against. You thank her by slipping your hands beneath her top and pulling it over her head.

"Beautiful," you whisper against her lips, as she presses them to yours again. You take her into your arms in a safe embrace, sighing into her mouth when her bare chest rubs against you. The thin material of your shirt does little to obstruct the feeling.

Though the shadows hide it, a deep, crimson blush warms her cheeks. She can taste the cinnamon toothpaste that you used earlier and smell the familiar scent of your hair products. You still use the same ones, she realizes.

Her leg flexes instinctively as you cup her cheek and deepen the kiss, tilting your head to the side. As you raise your hips to meet hers, she slides a hand up to your chest to offer it some attention. A pitiful noise leaves you when she makes contact, cupping your breasts. She pulls away from your lips to admire you, wanting to see the effect she has.

“Such a pretty thing,” she compliments, feeling arrogant when you bite your lip to stifle a moan. She toys with you like a plaything, switching her movements every so often to garner different reactions. You’re restoring her confidence without even trying; such sweet oblivion.

What she doesn’t fully grasp in the moment, though, is that your arrangement is very much so a two way street. You demonstrate the power you still have over her as you take hold of her hips, pulling them down as you thrust up to meet them.

Just as her thigh is between your legs, so is yours between hers; the mutual relief you receive at the motion entices you, making you repeat it.

She curses into your ear, the sound so full of raw desire that you nearly lose all sense of reason right then and there. Her head falls against your shoulder in ecstasy as she revels a little longer, enjoying the heat that spreads throughout her body the more you touch her.

It’s just like it used to be in so many ways, but somehow new. Still exciting. Still everything she hoped for.

Her lips find their way to your cheek in the darkness, leaving a trail of kisses downward, along your jawline and neck. They’re desperate and needy, accompanied by her shuddered breaths as she attempts to convey everything you’re making her feel. She can only cross her fingers and hope that it’s mutual.

“Come here,” you instruct, tapping her leg. She understands in an instant, wordlessly repositioning herself so that she’s straddling your waist now. The new angle is even more comfortable, and she sits back to give you a better look at her body as a way of expressing her gratitude. Her perky breasts are on full display, looking absolutely divine above the lines of her abs. You run a finger over the latter, tracing the hard-earned muscles in admiration.

Subtly, her hips begin to gyrate. She wants the movement to be tortuous, starting slow and building up until you can’t take it anymore. It’s only fair to give you a taste of your own medicine after all this time.

“Shit, Jiu,” you exhale, glancing down to where you’re joined. Her panties glisten as she writhes, displaying the wet spot that you’ve caused; when her grinding becomes a little sloppier, you can feel her slick spread to your abdomen.

"You like that, baby?" She muses, breathing heavy. You nod vehemently, not quite trusting your voice enough to speak yet.

You splay a hand across her pelvis, using your thumb to tease her clit.

She shakes as a surprised, broken moan slips out of her mouth. It’s louder than either of you expected it to be, and you find yourselves wanting to laugh for a moment.

“Play fair,” she warns, glaring at you. “...unless you want to wake everyone in the house up?” It’s posed as a question rather than a statement.

“I wouldn’t be–” you pause, exhaling when she presses into you a little harder, cocking a brow, “...opposed to that, necessarily.”

A sexy smile plays on her lips, making them look more kissable than ever. “No?” Something dangerous shines in her eyes.

“Try me.”

She bites her lip, weighing her options. You asked for it.

Her voice is whiny when she speaks again, and about five times louder than necessary at that. “I need you, Y/N. Please…” her hands thread into her hair exaggeratedly, playing into the show she’s giving. “Fuck me–”

You sit up at once, clasping a hand over her mouth and using the length of your body to push her backwards and pin her down against the bed. Adrenaline surges through your veins as you remain deathly still for a few tense seconds, trying to make sure her little stunt didn’t actually wake anybody up.

You didn’t really think she’d do it.

The sound of distant footsteps fills the hall, a series of padding and waiting, before the latch of a bedroom door clicks. The floorboards creak… someone's weight shifting from one foot to the other as they peek into the hall.

Jiu smiles against your palm, feeling every thump of your nervous heart.

When she wraps her legs around your waist and slips a hand between your bodies, your eyes screw tightly shut.

"Stop," you whisper, the noise like harsh wind on a calm night.

Her wanting eyes peer up at you, observing. The situation is delicate, so that's exactly how she'll treat it.

Slowly, she places her free hand beside her head on the bed and glances at it, inviting you to hold it. Upon hesitantly removing your own from her mouth, you thread your fingers with hers as you pin it down.

Innocently, she kisses your neck again, just above your pulse point. Her warm breath tickles your skin, only further stirring the fire within you.

"Do you really want me to?" She asks, voice sinful and rich. Her lips still, full and tempting, awaiting your answer.

Another door opens somewhere else in the house, followed by heavy footsteps. Someone trekking to the kitchen, it seems. Your mouth runs dry.

Her fingers toy with the hem of your shorts, edging them down little by little. "Say it again and I will," she promises. "Tell me you don't want me and I'll stop."

You sigh as she pulls your panties to the side, finally slipping her hand past the material. She finds your clit easily, with no real effort necessary; she knows your body now just the same as she did before.

"I…" you start, fighting back a stutter. Two of her fingers dip down to your entrance, gathering up some of your wetness. "...I can't."

"You can't what, Y/N?" She moves her fingers left and right, teasing.

"I can't say I don't want you," you groan, annoyance bubbling up within you.

"Why not?" You can tell she's smirking just by the sound of her voice.

"Because I'm sick of lying," you admit. "I've always wanted you."

Her cocky attitude falters.

A beat passes.

All footsteps outside retreat back into their respective rooms, and closing doors resound shortly after.

Effectively, the two of you are alone again.

Silence prevails following your confession – an eternal moment unbroken by any words of reciprocation from her. It lends your mind to chaos, filling it with worry.

You shouldn't have said anything. This was a mistake.

Embarrassed, you sit up and remove yourself from Jiu, moving towards the edge of the bed. She reaches out for you, though you don't see it.

"I'm sorry," your head shakes, discontent. "I shouldn't have–"

"Shush," she commands, surprising you. She refuses to let this end like before, with you retreating and shutting her out.

Your eyebrows raise as you turn to look at her; she still lays where you left her, only now she's propped up on her elbows.

"Don't say you regret it. Please." Her voice sounds small.

"But I thought…"

Her eyes remain on you as she sits up, carefully moving to sit next to you on her knees.

"I never stopped either, Y/N. I just couldn't believe you've felt the same all this time." She explains, not wanting you to misinterpret her silence any longer.

Your fingers toy at your thighs, still jittery with nerves. She notices, and lays a comforting hand on top of them.

"I've missed you," she adds. Softly, quietly. So as to not disturb this process. Together, you're beginning to pick up the pieces of what you let slip through your fingers before.

"Me too," you reassure her, bringing a hand up to caress her cheek. She leans into your touch, letting her eyes fall shut.

The walls she so adamantly built around her heart are lowering, little by little, and the notion scares her. If she gives herself to you tonight and you end up walking away, she doesn’t know if she’ll be able to recover.

“I’ve got you." The phrase sounds like a promise from your heart to hers; it’s as if you read her mind. “I won’t let things get in the way like before.”

She looks at you again, peeking her eyes open. The earnest look on your face is sincere enough to convince her of anything. “I’ll spend however long it takes proving it to you, Jiu.”

Her eyes shine with unshed tears. “I believe that.”

“Good,” you say, releasing a small breath of anticipation you hadn’t realized you were holding in.

She squeezes your hand three times, reminding you of the past.

Nostalgia befalls you, both in good ways and bad. So much regret exists between the two of you, centering around the breakup that neither of you really wanted in the first place. Life got in the way, then, and you were both too naive to fight against what you thought were fate’s currents.

It was decided that if you couldn’t be together, you’d have to settle for the ghost of one another.

Jiu found you in midnight moonlight, shining brightly amid the darkest of hours. You ruled from high above, with your impact spanning further than you ever realized.

She found you in the sound of laughter – the kind that starts by surprise, bubbling up from within and spilling out in a way that couldn’t not be contagious. The kind that everyone appreciates when they tell a joke with their fingers crossed, hoping it lands.

In warm tea and fireside reading you resided; a comforting hug on winter’s coldest day.

But traces of you were left behind in unwanted places, too, like fingerprints on a window. No matter how many cycles of washing and drying her sheets went through, they still smelled like you.

Her skin still remembered the way you touched her, igniting a fire that only you could put out. Her lips remembered your taste, knowing nothing could compare. She tried, for a time, to replace the imprints you left behind; but her efforts were in vain.

You were her mirage in the desert; a distant, elusive dream. Glimmering with untapped potential, waiting to be caught. She ebbed, you flowed. That’s how you would be, then and forever.

Or so she thought.

Had she known that she was the Sun to you, perhaps her hope would’ve been restored.

Or maybe she would have laughed, knowing that you found her in the strangest of places. Like seatbelts, for instance, and napkins; always necessary, and always staving off the bad that the world had to offer.

She was the chilly blast of air provided by the AC on summer’s most humid day, greeting you at the door of every shop you entered.

She was the sleepy delirium you slipped into on your days off, all pleasant dreams and comfortable positions.

The flowers and blossoms of the world were all her kisses, like a goddess’s gift to the Earth. Elegant, sweet, perfect. Being showered in them was a good luck charm; they rode the air currents on spring days, fluttering greetings on their way.

Coming home. To you, that was her. The familiarity of the floorboards, knowing where to step to avoid them creaking; the refrigerator light against a pitch-black kitchen, its crescent shape holding the darkness at bay; the support of your bed, offering relief to the parts of you that needed it most.

Truth be told, both of you found each other in everything. Bits and pieces, all fragments far too small to equate to the immensity of what you shared. Glimpses would never do in the long run, and you knew that. But what else were you to do?

Perhaps that silent hope that you held out, all daydreams and utterances of what if, swayed the universe into this. Into giving you an in; an opportunity to right your wrongs. A chance to hold tighter, this time, and accept trials and tribulations as signs of growth to be handled together – not reasons to give up.

You feel yourself smiling before you realize you’re even doing it. Her presence has a whole new meaning now, a whole slew of possible outcomes. Wherever the two of you decide to take things is up to you again; there’s nothing holding you back anymore.

She brings a hand up to your cheek, brushing her thumb across your soft skin. Even just holding you like this, so simply, is something she’s been longing for. Since the day you walked into her life, you’ve ruled her world without even knowing it. Sweet oblivion, yet again.

“Kiss me,” she says, after a moment. It draws you from the hold of her spell, bringing you back down to Earth.

You obey with a smile, but just before your lips meet hers, she stops you. She didn’t mean there.

“Here,” she corrects, as her hand guides yours back between her thighs. She’s wetter now than she was before, somehow, and you moan against her at the feeling. She muffles the noise with a kiss of her own, knowing how badly you need it.

She bites your lip as she pulls away. “We’re not leaving this bed until you’ve made up for every night we’ve been apart. Do you understand me?”

You sigh, half-amused. “I’m fairly certain that the group is going hiking in the morning,” you inform, “...so I think it’s important that you’re still able to walk for that.”

“Who says we have to join them?” She raises a brow, pushing you down onto the bed and moving to straddle you again.

You pull a face, feigning concern. “You wouldn’t want to be improper, now would you?”

Her shoulders rise and fall in a shrug, accepting no blame. “What happens is up to you. Take me now or forever hold your peace.” She declares it proudly, posing herself before you.

The view of her on top of you – nearly naked, her body humming with want, waiting for your touch – dispels any and all remnants of humor. Your shared desire wins out, filling the air of the room; she’s aware of her power over you, but she’d be a liar to act as if watching your eyes darken didn’t make her stomach flip just like it did the first time you ever took her.

With a hushed curse, you capture her lips in a searing kiss. She gasps into it when you roughly pull her panties down, showing little care in being gentle now. Her response comes in a similar form, with her hastily tugging your shirt over your head; once you’re exposed to her, she can’t help but stare. She admires every curve like it’s the first time she’s seen it; every line like it’s her last. It’s adoration and desperation, all at once; appreciating it all is important to her, but so too is relearning it.

Luckily for you, she happens to be best at a hands-on approach.

Her nails drag across your abdomen on their way downward, leaving faint marks on your sensitive skin; she can’t wait to see how many she can leave on you. It’s always been one of her favorite things to do.

In one fluid motion you flip her over, cradling her close in the process. Her hands cup your cheeks as she kisses you, and you hurriedly remove any remaining clothes from your bodies.

She spreads her legs for you as you begin to slide down her body, leaving one final kiss to her lips.

Her hands hold your hair up as you explore her abdomen, painting her fair skin with an array of love bites. Her nails dig into your scalp when her impatience hits a high, making you smile against her despite the sting.

She hums appreciatively when you finally slide your hand down, ready to prepare her for what she wants most. She’s absolutely soaked, and by the whine that she lets out when you press your palm to her clit, it’s safe to say that she’ll only get worse. The bed sheets below her have already received some of her slick, proudly displaying a wet spot for you to bear witness to.

“Enough teasing, jagi,” she groans, breathless and tired of your games. With shut eyes and furrowed brows, she pushes her head back into her pillow and takes up the writhing again that she had become so good at earlier. Her hands fall to your shoulders, pushing you down further.

You settle her thighs on your shoulders, basking in how smooth and warm they are around you. She’s perfection in human form; divinity personified.

“Keep it down, Jiu,” you command, taking control. “If you pull another stunt like earlier, I’m stopping altogether.”

She nods feverishly, lacking the desire to be a brat anymore. If playing nice is what it takes to have you, then so be it. That promise of release is finally back again, after all this time, and she can let herself get lost in you.

These four walls – what she once loathed – are creating an oasis.

Her personal utopia.

—

The Next Morning

Overzealous birds work as your alarm clock of sorts, claiming the prize of waking you up. You blink the sleep from your eyes and stretch, feeling a pleasant soreness in parts of your body it hadn’t been before last night. The ache reminds you of everything you did just a few hours ago, and you find yourself smiling like an idiot as you roll over to greet the resident sadist next to you.

When your hand meets the cold, empty expanse of the bed instead, your expression sours.

The bedside table is void of any note or message, too, you discover, though your phone sits atop it, charging. At some point this morning she must’ve plugged it in for you. Sweet, but not enough. You wanted to wake up in her arms, or at the very least next to her.

Grumbling, you sit up and head to the bathroom to get cleaned up.

You have no idea what the day will hold for the two of you.

–

Clean and dressed, you take a seat on the bed. Your fingertips mindlessly press to the hickey on your neck – one of the many, many that you discovered as you got ready – rubbing patterns against the abused skin there.

You unplug your phone and turn it on, mentally crossing your fingers as you scan through your message notifications for her name.

Your pursuit proves fruitless. Not even a text.

You huff like a child, rolling your eyes. So much for a vacation; now you’re stressed all over again.

When staring a hole into your phone doesn’t result in her notification magically popping up, you decide to give it a rest.

Standing up, you slip it into your back pocket and head for the door, ready to track Y/BFFs/N down and tell her everything.

However those plans, too, come to a screeching halt right before your eyes as you swing the door open to reveal a shocked Jiu. Your timing truly is impeccable.

“AHHH!” She shrieks, frightened.

She hastily scrambles to keep the large tray in her hands upright and off of the floor.

Spilling the spread of foods she just finished preparing for the two of you doesn’t sound too appealing to her, after all.

Immediately, you spring into action and successfully help steady it. Some fruits fell out of their separate containers and a bit of milk spilled over the side of its jar, but all of that is easily fixable. Jiu releases a tense breath as she realizes that the worst case scenario was avoided, but she glares at you as she pushes her way into the room.

“Pabo,” she mutters, striding over to the bed. The slight limp in her step makes you smile inwardly, proud of yourself.

Once the food is safely laid down and she cleans up what spilled, she turns to look at you.

“Sorry,” you mitigate, grimacing. When you approach her and look at everything she put together, your annoyance from before gives way to guilt. A plethora of your favorite foods decorates the tray, assembled with love.

She regards you for a moment, pretending to be angry. When her eyes land on one of the darkening marks on your neck, pleased mischief comes to gleam in them.

“You’re lucky I like you,” she threatens, pointing a finger at you.

Playfully, you bite the tip of it.

“I’m aware, jagi.”

Cautiously, you ease your arms around her waist, ready to pull away if need be. Although her lips still rest in an unamused pout, she doesn’t stop you.

The jackhammering of her heart has eased now, and you can feel its pace returning to normal as you draw her into your arms. She loops hers around your neck and sweetly presses her cheek to yours, content with staying like that for a bit.

You sway gently, rocking from side to side. This definitely makes up for the rude awakening you received earlier.

Once you’re satisfied, you pull away enough to look at her. Your fingertips brush a few stray strands of hair out of her face, tucking them behind her ear. She leans in, finally kissing you good morning.

“Ready to eat?”

Your lips purse in mock contemplation as you scan the food again.

"Mmm, five more minutes?" You suggest, leaning forward to kiss her again. She laughs into the embrace lightly, returning the gesture.

Her lips taste of the strawberries and cherries that she stole bites of earlier, as she cooked. It's addicting, you find, when she deepens the kiss and wraps herself around you, melting into your arms. You hold her close, just like she wants.

"Does this mean…" she mumbles between kisses, "we're still gonna room together?"

You pause to laugh. "Yeah, jagi. We're still roommates. No getting rid of me now."

She replaces her lips on yours, kissing them again and again as you attempt to control the growing smile on your face. She sweetly cups your cheeks, rubbing her thumbs across them as you continue.

Abruptly, jarring clapping resounds from the doorway. Fake sniffling can also be heard, and so the two of you look up to investigate.

It's none other than Sua and Y/BFFs/N, standing side by side with their hands clasped tightly together like proud parents.

"I told you it would happen," Sua wails, dabbing fake tears from the corner of her eye. Y/BFFs/N agrees, nodding enthusiastically.

“Mission accomplished,” she quips, looking straight at you.

It seems as though they had been playing Cupid all along…

Sneaky.

271 notes · View notes