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angeli-marco-writes · 3 years

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∘◦ ♪ ◦∘ Timothée Chalamet - Concerto ∘◦ ♪ ◦∘

A/N - I wrote and posted this almost a year ago on my Wattpad. My writing has evolved a lot since then, but I’m still proud of this piece, and hope you enjoy it. I do not know Tim, nor do I claim to in any way. This is a work of fiction and entirely my own.

Warnings - smut. Detailed (but protected and consensual) sex, slight BDSM, overstimulation. Cursing. Legal alcohol consumption and smoking. Also 10k words of sickening fluff though, even the smut is fluffy.

Summary - At a classical music concert, the last person you expect to meet is a young man as charming and suave as Timothée. And the last thing you expected is for him to invite you back to his flat. Turns out music really is food for the soul, and other things...

IT’S A FRIDAY EVENING IN NEW YORK CITY. The sun is setting behind the towering silhouettes of undulating buildings all across the city, the moon casting shadows all around au contraire to the luminescence of building lights, beaming all around as well as the street lamps, bringing colour and light to people’s faces in the dark.

You’re standing on the pavement outside Symphony Space Concert Hall on the Upper West Side, people watching. Nothing more or less conspicuous, just observing everyone flooding into the hall, though none of them seem to be under 50 years of age. After checking the time, you take your phone out of the pocket attached to your delicate silk jumpsuit you’re wearing for the night, the one reserved for classy parties and sophisticated concerts only (though very handy). You open the email holding your ticket for the evening, a Poulenc appreciation concert, and you show it to the bouncer who grants you entry to the auditorium.

The room looks incredible. Photos of Francis Poulenc, as well as some old parchment sheets of his music spread out delicately over the usually bare walls. The lights create a perfect ambience in the hall for what's sure to be an incredible evening. The red velvet seats are half full, dotted with people at least twice your age, except from one seat near the front where you can see merely a defined jaw and brown curls. On the stage stands two glossy black grand pianos, slotted beside one another with plush velvet stools and their lids propped up, allowing one to see the inner workings of such wonderful instruments. Behind the pianos are seats enough for an entire orchestra, creating a crescent moon shape. A couple of the seats already have instruments atop them, aching for their owners to play beautiful melodies with them. You make your way down to where your seat is, familiar with the layout of the auditorium. You’re on the right hand side of the centre stalls, third row back, but as you arrive, there’s a boy you saw earlier, not much older than yourself.

“Hi, do you mind if I squeeze past?” You ask him, watching his head jolt up from the programme to reveal a mop of beautiful dark brown curls framing his chiselled face, piercing green eyes with flecks of hazel when the light changed direction. You recognise him, an actor, you simply can’t place him.

His look of incredulity melts into a smile. “Sure.” He says, moving his legs so that you can squeeze past and take your reserved seat on his left. He turns to face you, smiling. He’s wearing a crisp navy suit with a pale blue shirt and a matching tie. He looks well presented, and by his nervous and lopsided smile, you guess that he’s rather nervous to be at the concert alone too. “Timothée.” He tells you, holding his hand out.

You return his gesture, smiling right back at him, and tell him your name. “You here alone?” You ask him, turning in your seat to get a better view. He nods.

“Thought I’d be the only under fifty here.” He laughs, “I’m 24 by the way, but I shan’t ask your name since you're a lady.” You can't help but laugh at this, just a little giggle at how sweet he is, but your interaction is cut short as the lights turn down in the auditorium but shine brighter on the stage, and a full orchestra enters the stage, accompanied by their instruments, two pianists and a conductor. Murmurs in the hall settle down to a faint hum while the musicians tune to the sound of the oboe, and then begin to play.

The music is mesmerising, starting with orchestral pieces with faint piano accompaniment, then just a nocturne for piano, split between the two lead pianists. You could listen to it all night, but an interval has to come. As the lights slowly turn back up, you see an infantile smile on Timothée’s face, as though he’s just watched the most excellent thing in the world.

“Come on,” you say to him, smiling sadly while you tap his knee, “let’s get a drink.”

He reluctantly stands up to follow you out of the auditorium and to the small bar area. You order two margarita’s without consulting him, but he seems grateful as you sit beside each other on a high table, people watching once again.

“What's your job then?” He asks you, making small talk.

“I’m a piano major at Juilliard, teaching piano on the side though.” You respond, and he seems really taken aback. His jaw falls a little slack while his eyes bulge a tad.

“Wow, you must be excellent!” You blush a little at his words, elegantly taking a sip from your drink while he eyes you carefully. You feel awkward under his gaze, though flattered nonetheless. He’s gorgeous, and he’s complimenting you and accepting drinks from you, what a night.

“What about you?” You inquire. He's an actor, you know that, but asking means that you may be able to get some more context and maybe it’ll click where you’ve seen him before. He clears his throat, and you can see some older people walking by who pull faces, judging the pair of you, but you brush them off.

“I’m an actor, mainly small films though.” He says, remaining vague. You don’t push much more, realising that he probably likes not being fawned all over for once, so you simply ask of the favourite names he’s had the honour of working alongside, which must be an uncommonly asked question because a light flickers behind his eyes.

“Selena Gomez, Steve Carell, Armie Hammer, Saoirse Ronan, Emma Watson, Robert Pattinson, Maia Mitchell…” He begins to list, but only when he mentions Maia does it click. You aren't huge into films, but you have seen him in a film with Maia Mitchell and Maika Monroe a few years ago.

“Hot summer nights, right? You were in that?” His cheeks turn a magnificent crimson and he bows his head as though embarrassed. He mumbles something along the lines of ‘not my best performance’, but you disagree. “I think you were wonderful, and did you mention Armie Hammer?” He nods again, seeming a little brighter. You take another sip from your drink, and he follows suit, watching your poised movements.

“Call Me By Your Name.” You nod in recognition, you remember watching the film when it first came out and loving the music from it.

“You’re excellent you know, at piano I mean, and the intimate scenes aren’t half bad either, you make them better.” You say with a teasing smirk on your painted lips, making Timothée’s eyes widen again. You chuckle and grasp his hand, dragging him into the auditorium for the second half.

The second half is a whole concerto, Poulenc’s Concerto For Two Pianos And Orchestra. Ten minutes in, Timothée’s hand finds your thigh and seems very comfortable, so comfortable in fact that you don't dare move it. As the concerto flows further on, his hand slides further up your clothed leg and squeezes your upper thigh a little You tense under his touch, infatuation and lust filling every cell and exiting through your pores, just waiting for more passion to fill your body and make you drunk on the feeling.

When finally the concert ends, both of you stand to applaud the musicians for a solid few minutes, and you could swear you see a tear leaving Timothée’s mysterious eyes and rolling down his heavenly made, painfully defined cheekbones. While you clap, you surreptitiously edge closer together, millimetre by millimetre until you’re hip to hip with elbows nudging. Your head comes up to his chin, making you feel a little small, but you’ll feel even smaller once your heels come off. Once the majority of the audience have filed out, you grasp his hand and pull him through the crowds where you stand on the corner of the pavement, only metres from the venue. You’re reluctant to loosen your grip on his slim hand, as he is with yours.

“Cigarette?” He offers, holding a half full box out to you. You half smile and shake your head in refusal.

“I don’t mind if you do though.” You say, meeting his gaze. “I love the taste of smoke when I kiss someone.” You add in a whisper, leaning up on your tiptoes to whisper in his ear. He goes rigid, making you smirk to yourself. This is going to be a good night.

He lights his cigarette and takes slow drag, only looking away to blow the smoke in an opposite direction to you. How respectful, you think, as your stomach fills with butterflies and bubbles with anticipation. He puts it out on top of a bin and throws it away without littering, and just that small and helpful gesture makes you crave his touch, having his fingers trace your sweaty skin and making your body tingle, your back arch with desire and pleasure.

“Wanna get a drink?” You ask, pointing to a nice bar across the road. You’re desperate to sleep with him, but not without pleasantries first. He, however, shakes his head and intricately entwines his fingers with yours.

“I’ll do you one better than a drink.” His smirk sets off a different kind of longing in you, forcing your body to follow him wherever he takes you.

As you walk, he starts conversation, but you’re so breathless from the desperation speed walking that your answers are brief. He asks you why you attended the concert, only to remember that you’re a music student and piano teacher; so in turn, you ask him the same question.

“When I was doing Call Me By Your Name, I had to learn the piano, and while I was learning classical pieces, I kind of just fell in love with classical piano music, I don’t know.”

His nervousness is sweet, making him appear far more humble than anyone of his stature would usually be.

You get to his building after a twenty minute dash in heels, and he pulls you flush against him while entering through the revolving doors, allowing you to lay your weight on him for a moment while you gather your breath. You feel his heartbeat thudding and racing against his ribs, reverberating against your own chest. You turn around to face him and place your hand on his chest.

“Breathe.” You say to him, allowing him to release a long held breathy chuckle. You leave the doors, both laughing, and fervently press the buttons to wait upon a lift. “So,” You then continue, breaking the silence where only your breaths were heard. “Favourite piano piece from the Call Me By Your Name soundtrack?”

“Hallelujah Junction!” You both answer at the same time, just as the lift doors open. You fall into the lift in a fit of giggles, clinging onto each other. You find yourself with your back pressed against the cold metal handle bar in the elevator with Timothée’s face inches away from your own. Your breath mingles together. As soon as he presses the button to his floor, he nudges his nose with your own.

“God, you're so beautiful.” he says seconds before his mouth is pressed hotly against your own, kissing you with an unrivalled passion. Your lips mould and move together like it’s second nature. His one hand holds your waist while both of yours grip his face, feeling a slight stubble.

The lift dings and he drags you out, unlocking his apartment door and leading you inside.

“Welcome to Casa del Timmy.” he says while hugging you from behind, allowing you to get a full view.

His apartment is stunning. Sleek, yet also vintage. Your eyes follow across the perimeter through a door to the left, where he has an office area containing a sleek white desk with a mac and a stack of papers and pens, next to it is a vintage white bookcase stacked as high as possible with novels of all shapes and sizes, and even an indie style rug underneath a colourful modern dining set..

The door next to the office is a kitchen, white countertops with wooden cupboards and a beautiful view of the city out of the window. To the right is a set of glass doors that open onto a small balcony where you can see the whole city, even Manhattan and Brooklyn depending which way you look and how the moon beams down. There’s a closed door right in front of you and through the entry hall and living room which you assume is his bedroom held behind a golden doorknob.

His living room, where you remain standing, holds an array of house plants with a couple of very comfortable looking plush sofas, his TV stand as well as his coffee table look like polished vintage items, refurbished from a flea market maybe, while his book shelf and rug are grand and modern. The best part of all though is a grand piano in an oak wood, matching the wood from his television table, and you become instantly entranced by the instrument that you don’t even notice the velvet stool or the perfectly organised cabinet of music, with a guitar propped up against it.

“Wow.” You breathe. Timothée grips you tighter, trailing kisses across your shoulder and up the side of your neck, inhaling every few seconds to treasure the scent of your perfume. Gardenia, rose champagne, grapefruit, davana; heavenly. You grip his hands with your own, holding them tightly where they’re settled on your tummy. You roll your head against his shoulder to give him better access to kiss you, but he stops abruptly and leads you to the piano stool. He opens the cabinet and pulls out a well loved piece of music.

“I know it’s for two pianos, but let's have some fun.” He says, grinning at you, an infectious smile that you can’t help but return. Hallelujah Junction, first movement. He puts the music out on the piano and takes a seat beside you, your thighs touching and hands overlapping as they begin to glide over the keys.

Playing this piece is second nature to you, allowing you to find your way easily, slipping your fingers between Timothée’s, and the white and black keys. You begin a harmonious melody spanning the whole of the piano, but after only a couple of pages, you realise that its not working as your notes cross over, making it very difficult to play on just one piano. You laugh together, but only for a moment before he is trailing his tongue up your neck, then your lips, and delving inside your mouth. You gasp, moaning into the passionate kiss that he’s giving you, and within seconds you find yourself straddling his lap on the piano stool. You trap his thighs between yours, moving and grinding your hips a little against his to receive more friction where you can feel how needy he is.

Within seconds, he has your legs wrapped around his waist and his teeth on your clavicle. The pleasure makes sounds escape your lips that you didn’t even realise were possible. You knot your ankles as he stands up with one hand around your waist and the other feeling his way around his apartment. After a few funny missteps and close calls of him dropping you while only walking the expanse of his living room, he pins you against his bedroom door, finding your lips again

He gently pokes at your dusty pink bottom lip with his tongue, slipping his tongue back into your mouth, exploring avidly and devouring every taste of you that he can muster. You do the same, but become too infatuated by his taste to put much more passion into it: gin, mint, bergamot and smoke. Smoke, sugar and sin, the most deadly combination of them all, and that's all you can smell on him, making you moan even louder. An erotic moan that makes Timothée twist open the handle to his bedroom door as quickly as is humanly possible.

He as good as throws you onto the bed, but undeniably, it turns you on a lot to see his dominant side this early on into the evening. He doesn't seem like the type to pin you down and boss you around, but as he shuts his bedroom door and delicately takes off his probably very expensive shoes, you can see a glint in his eye, almost as if he’s planning on doing unspeakably pleasurable things to you. Just the thought makes you wetter than before.

As he locks the door and shuts his shoes away, you take a quick look around the room. His bed is nice, comfortable and exquisitely large, like other things you hope. He has a nice colourful throw, vintage looking pillows to match his nightstand, holding only a pillbox, a glass of water, hand sanitiser, and a box of tissues. The simplicity makes you want to laugh, but you restrain yourself. He has a big dresser to match his bedside table with the drawers a little skewwhiff and clothes poking out. His wardrobe is fitted to the wall and by the looks of it, surprisingly neat too. That much cannot be said for his sofa though. A plush, light grey sofa sits on one side of his room just away from the window, and it's covered with clothes. At least he made the bed though, that's more than you can say for most 20-odd year old mans rooms that you’ve been into.

He sheds his blazer and crawls up to where he left you on the bed, needy and craving more. He looks down at you with desperation in his eyes, and you can’t help but to attack his lips, threading one hand in his beautiful dark curls while the other nimbly pulls open his tie and undoes his shirt. You shrug it off his shoulders and run your nails up and down his spine. You feel him shiver beneath his touch while your hands travel all over his body. His shoulders, his biceps, his toned stomach; he’s skinny, but has enough substance to him to be strong and sexy as hell.

“You’ll kill me if you stop.” He whispers, followed by a string of breathy curses. His eyes roll into the back of his head, giving you ample opportunity to grasp his shoulders and slip the pair of you over, pinning him beneath you. His eyes flit all over your face before kissing you again.

“You are so freaking beautiful.” He mumbles between kisses. He slips his hands up to find the zip of your jumpsuit which he slides down crazily fast, only breaking the kiss to shrug it off your shoulders. He just lies in awe, noticing that you don’t have a bra on beneath it. His tongue darts out from between his lips as he examines every undulation of your body, following the swell of your breasts right down to your hips. Your nerves return under his scrutiny, making you want to hide your face, but instead he holds your wrists behind you.

“You never have to cover up,” he says, nothing more or less than genuine love in his eyes, “not for me.”

Despite only meeting him hours ago, you know that you can trust him, so you ungracefully clamber off his lap and lie on your back to shimmy off your burden of a jumpsuit. He practically leaps at the opportunity to worship your body, before him in only your panties. He starts at your ankle, placing feather light kisses all the way from your ankle, up your leg, not minding the slight harshness of your legs, and only stops at your knee joint to switch his lips to his tongue, licking a straight line all the way up your inner thigh, stopping centimetres from where you need him the most. Not through any of this ritual does he break eye contact though. He skips over your panties and only pulls them down a little to trail kisses from your pelvic bone, up past your navel, through the valley of your breasts, and finally back to your lips. He makes you feel things that you could only dream of before meeting him.

“Timothée…” you breathe, hearing his breath hitch in his throat at the way your tongue curls around his name.

You reach between the two of you to his trousers. You undo the belt buckle with ease and push his trousers off his hips and down his thin legs, allowing him to kick them off at the bottom. He seems embarrassed, wearing Y-fronts that make more visible just how much he wants you.

“How about we strip together?” You offer, and Timothée reluctantly nods. He pushes himself off of you and stands up, giving you a hand to stand up as well. He still hasn’t taken his eyes off you since the moment you left the concert hall. “3, 2, 1…”

You both remove your underwear, pushing them down your legs and stepping out of them, only to step closer together so that your chests are flush against one another. He moves his hand up to cup your face, brushing your hair away from your face while tilting your chin up, capturing your lips in a lustful yet also sensual kiss.

He nudges you and your legs hit the bed, making you topple over and break the kiss from a giggle, but he doesn’t seem to mind and only laughs with you, moving your body further onto the mattress. He doesn't go to you again, he just lies beside you and dances his fingers absently down your pubic bone, ghosting circles around your clit.

“Jesus Christ.” You exclaim at the sudden feeling. Timothée kisses your jawline, but adds in between kisses, “Less of that, darling, I’m Jewish.”

You can’t help but laugh at him. You know he’s joking, just trying to mess with you, but as a punishment for laughing, he thrusts two fingers inside you with no warning, making you cry out in a mixture of both pain and overwhelming pleasure.

He pumps his fingers in and out of you, never going deeper than the second knuckle even when you cry out for more. Only when your moans turn to gasps for breath and you’re writhing beneath him does he delve in further and add his thumb to your clit, giving you a more intense orgasm than you’ve ever had before.

You immediately feel blood rushing back to your cheeks, colouring them from embarrassment, but Timothée doesn’t mind. He removes his hand from your core, and makes sure your eyes are fixated on his every movement as he licks his hand clean of all your cum. You’re so turned on that you even reach for his own hand, interlacing all your fingers except for his index one, of which he takes the hint and slips it into your open mouth, allowing your tongue to curl around it, making him groan.

He slips further down the bed and locks his eyes onto yours, you can see different shades of green and hazel in them and a whole world locked behind those beautiful eyes. Slowly, he delves into your heat, licking up everything that his hands missed. His mouth works wonders, sending your mind into a state of mild euphoria. The tip of his nose nudges your clit and you can feel yourself involuntarily gasp, so when Timothée finishes savouring every taste of you that he can get, he harshly bites your sensitive clit for just a moment, stimulating parts of your mind and body that you didn’t know could feel pleasure, let alone pleasure that intense.

He comes back up and kisses your lips, planting his hands in your hair as you kiss him back and get lost in the moment, your tongues dance together in an exploration, an experimentation of passion.

You pull away after a minute or so, gasping for air. Timothée examines your face for a moment, and you find yourself once again losing your thoughts and sanity in his eyes, until you feel the tip of his throbbing cock brush against your bare thigh. You feel bad for how much he’s been neglecting his own levels of desire in order to pleasure you, so you wrap your fingers around the base of his cock. He takes a sharp intake of breath and flutters his eyes closed, his long dark eyelashes twitching alongside his eyelids whenever you grasp harder or pump him.

He’s surprisingly big, causing you to take longer while rubbing your hand up and down his member. Half way down one thrust, you squeeze his cock a little, hearing him whimper a little. The mere sound of him drowns your core in want. You edge your way down the bed and swallow as much of his dick as you can take until his tip hits the back of your throat. He lets out the most sensual guttural groan that you’ve ever heard, his eyes still closed while placing his hand on the back of your head to keep you steady. You bring your head back up to look at him while your tongue swirls his tip, his mouth is parted a little with breathy moans of your name escaping every once in a while, his eyelids switching from being lazily half open to squeezed so tightly shut that they wrinkle a little.

You go back down slowly, inch by inch, hollowing your cheeks. You work your hand in the part of him that won’t fit in your mouth and continue to bob your head up and down. You lick a strip up a vein on the underside of his dick, making him near enough scream your name. With one final bob of your head where you deep throat him, you pull away with plump lips, climbing up his body to straddle his waist. He looks up at you with wide and loving eyes, pulling you down for a sensual kiss.

“Are you clean?” He asks breathlessly, kissing down the hickeys that he’s already littered your skin with.

“Yeah, i got tested after my last break up a few months ago, and I haven’t been with anyone since. Is that because I just…” He nods and you laugh a little, the vibrations from his chuckle rumble throughout your body.

“I did the same, but I’ll still…” You get what he’s saying and climb off him. He flings open the top drawer of his bedside table and after a minute or so of rooting through it he pulls out a condom packet and places it next to his glass of water. You give him a questioning look with your brows knitted together, but Timothée just smiles at you. He slips one slim arm beneath your back and the other under your knee joint before scooping you up and holding you close to his chest.

“Well hey there Timothée.” You say with a chuckle, secretly astonished at how strong he is, because with one arm still holding you, he throws away the decorative pillows and pulls the duvet back, throwing you onto the mattress and leaping on top of you. You smile into his kiss, savouring every second of the feel of his lips pressed hotly against your own, the taste of smoke driving you crazy.

He pulls away and sits up, tearing open the condom packet and grasping his hand sanitiser. He flicks the lid open and squeezes it liberally onto his hands before applying it and rubbing it into yours. “Are you sure?” He asks you, and your urgent kiss to his jawline is followed by a string of fervent reassurances that you are desperate to have him inside you, though you respect that he wants consent and that he wants to be clean. He slips the condom on, his eyes trained on your lips and the way they part from wanting every few seconds. He’s enjoying torturing you and making you wait, the same way that you edged him but denied him orgasm.

He slips the condom on and slowly enters in one smooth stroke. You gasp at the contact, especially how deep he goes with the first thrust, so deep that his pubic bone hits your own. He reaches for the duvet and he pulls it up over his shoulders, covering the pair of you since he can see that you’re shivering a little in the open. He looks for reassurance, but then begins to thrust inside you, holding his weight above you. You can see his biceps tensing while trying to hold his weight up and keep a steady rhythm.

“How about we spice this up?” He suggests, a sly smirk playing on his lips. He cocks an eyebrow, and the sun hits his face at an angelic angle, only making him more beautiful. You nod eagerly to him, only making his smirk grow wider.

“Yes Mr Timothée,” you say, triggering a dominant smirk to relight behind those stunning eyes.

“That's Mr Chalamet to you tonight, Miss.” Words cannot even explain how wet he makes you by saying that, already making your mind want to submit to his every want. You let out a whimper and remove your hands from his hips to lay above your head on the pillows. He joins his fingers around your wrist and proceeds to lay his slender hand flat against your wrists, preventing you from moving.

“Is this okay?” He asks, his movements coming to a halt. You nod and kiss him again. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

He must really enjoy what he’s doing to you. “Yes Mr Chalamet.” You reply, making your eyes as doe like and innocent as possible.

Timothée’s thrusts restart, faster this time. You moan louder, ecstasy filling every inch of your spent body before you’ve even properly begun. His moans are lower, more like groans, all of your name. It sounds heavenly coming from his lips, the way his mouth moves when he says your name just makes it better. His hips hit yours with vigour, adjusting to get a better position where he hits the best spot inside of you.

“There Timothée!” You scream desperately, your back arching on the mattress while your hands fight to break free. Submitting isn’t as easy as you hoped.

“I’m close.” He warns you and frees your wrists, but he doesn’t let your hand go too far. He interlocks his fingers with yours, using one elbow to prop himself up. His thrusts turn sloppy, more fervent, and just as he’s finishing, he digs his thumb into your clit.

Your entire body turns limp, screaming his name in a state of complete euphoria like you’ve never felt before. It travels from your brain to the tips of your fingers, setting a fire in your belly and making your toes curl. Your back arches so far off the bed that your chest becomes pressed against Timothée’s, your breasts moving in time with his breathing. You feel him come to his own climax, silencing his screams by kissing you with more passion than he has before.

You ride out your highs, but the level of pleasure illuminating every nerve ending in your body means that you don’t notice Timothée pulling out and disposing of the condom, you only notice when he flops down beside you on the bed and pulls you closer to his slightly sweaty body. You rest your head on his chest that seems to be glowing in the moonlight from the sheen of sweat. He absently plaits your hair, staring off into the distance. The faint thudding of his heart within his ribs comforts you, it's a little faster than would be normal, making you smile a little.

“How was that?” His hand grips around your shoulder even tighter, pulling you closer to his body. He seems content in simply holding you, maybe he just enjoys cuddling. “Wait, don’t answer that.” He corrects himself, his pupils dilating and his excellent, angelic body going rigid. You chuckle to yourself, drawing circles on his chest with the pad of your forefinger,

“Excellent, Mr Chalamet.” You tease him.

“I wasn’t too rough, was I?” He looks fearful, fretting, it's evident in the sudden sulk of his face, pulling his cheeks and forehead down. You shake your head again, slowly but surely moving your leg to lie over his. Ye inclines his neck to place a gentle kiss to our hairline, and you can feel him smile into it.

“Timothée?”

“Yes beautiful?” Just his simple words make you giggle and blush, such a sweet sentiment from a gorgeous and well meaning man.

“I’m hungry.” You say, feeling slightly embarrassed. He laughs, you feel his body move from it, and he proceeds to pepper your face with the softest and sweetest kisses possible.

“I’ll make us some food, grab any shirt you want and meet me in the kitchen.”

You watch him pull on a pair of grey sweat pants and walk out. His pale hips sway just a little as he walks, and he looks so lanky from where you’re laying on his bed, the covers pulled up around your chest. He kissed your forehead before heading to the kitchen, what kind of a man does that on the first night? He’s a famous actor and the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen, let alone a couple of years above yourself. He really knows how to please a girl, your skin rises in tiny goosebumps of pleasure while a shiver shoots down your spine and leaps across your synapses just at the mere thought of what he did to you, by far the best climax you’ve ever had.

You slowly slide out from under his warm, plush covers that smell just like him, only leaving with severe reluctance that melts away as soon as you shrug on the pale blue button down that he wore for the concert. Only a few hours ago you’d met at a concert for old people, already having a common interest that few your age have, yet he’s so eager about classical piano which is so special to you. You fiddle with the buttons, leaving the top few open in hopes of another round - he is making you an almost-midnight feast after all.

You walk out of his room and pad barefoot across his living room floor, only to have a little grey cat come and rub at your feet. You lean down to tickle behind its ears, hearing it meow, and you continue your way too where Timothée has left the kitchen door open for you. He’s standing over the stove with some ingredients laid out on the spotlessly clean countertops. You smile in spite of yourself, running a hand through your messy hair before wrapping your arms around his torso from behind. You place a couple of kisses to his shoulder blades until he turns around and picks you up in one swift movement, sitting you on the counter so that you meet his height.

“It looks better on you.” He whispers, pulling you closer by your bare thighs to plant a kiss on your lips. He’s making you feel things you’ve never experienced before, you can’t wipe the smile off your face for the first time in a while, and he's making you food in the middle of the night after cuddling you.

Dreamboat.

After watching him cook for a while, you slip out of his kitchen and take a seat at his piano. You run your fingers over the smooth wood, it’s well loved but well kept. Then you take a seat on the stool. You can feel where Timothée sits to play, your smile turning a little sad. There’s so much to him that people won’t see because he’s getting famous, but he’s still a person and that’s something that you’re able to experience first-hand.

Eyes closed, you feel for F and Ab with both of your hands. You press the keys down gently, creating the soft blend of notes that is Clair De Lune. You fall lost in the music in a new way, a new feeling washing you with all of tonight's new sensations and sitting at a piano that is neither your own nor at school, it feels somewhat ethereal.

Your fingers glide all across the keys, black to white, flats to sharps, switching between octaves like its second nature. Your mind dances along with the rhythm, your whole mind, soul and being becoming lost in the symphony that you’re creating, one that you haven’t been able to create for a while, and it’s only thanks to Timothée.

You become so absorbed in playing that you don’t notice him leaving the kitchen to listen. He just stands in the doorway, leaning against it with his head lolled a little to the side, completely mesmerised by your movements, your music, and just everything you are. Only when you play the final notes are you alerted of his presence from the creaking of the floorboards beneath his feet. He walks over to you with purpose, a slight grimace on his perfect lips, but he just hugs you. Timothée just holds you close to his chest, allowing you to entwine your arms around his neck and nuzzle your face in his bare chest.

“Stay the night?” He asks, such a simple request but he truly does seem anxious. You want to be genuine, kind, but it’ll be best to relieve the tension.

“You’re making me a late night post-sex feast and giving me your shirt, of course I’m staying the night.” After a moment of silence, he exhales a laugh and node, brushing a curl or two into his face. “Anyway, your cat likes me too, so it’d be a shame to disappoint the little cutie.”

After only a few minutes, you find yourself back in bed with Timothée. He’s carrying a tray full of food that looks and smells gorgeous, followed by his cat who decides to dance between his legs. He serves you a strangely shaped piece of an odd looking pizza, though it still looks excellent, and it has some perfectly cooked and seasoned vegetables next to it on a white plate.

“What is this?” You ask him as kindly as possible.

“Flammekueche with some vegetables. It’s a French pizza with crème fraiche and bacon. My dad makes it all the time and always gives me some that I just freeze and reheat. I can only make microwave meals and vegetables, so this isn’t bad for me.” The way he explains it makes him so endearing, and even makes the food seem more than enticing. “You’re not allergic to anything are you? Or vegetarian?” You shake your head with a smile, kissing him and thanking him for the meal even though he won’t let you touch it before you sanitise your hands.

You talk the whole while that you eat, learning little things about his favourite books and his family. His favourite book just happens to be Tender is the Night by F. Scott Fitzgerald, a book you both know and love, and Timothee has a Jewish mother, a French father, an older sister, and he grew up in the city. You however are from out of the city with an exceptionally normal family, and your favourite book is Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte. He seems to be growing fond of you, wiping the pizza sauce from your lip, followed by a kiss each time.

He places your plates on the floor as soon as you finish, snatching at the speed of light for some hand sanitiser, lube and another condom. You more than happily oblige with all of his steps and strip off his shirt, kissing the living daylights out of him before he’s even slotted the condom on. He kisses you back with equal fervour nonetheless, exploring your whole mouth with the tip of his tongue. He cautiously adds some lube to the sides of the condom and slips into you while you’re still atop him. You moan at the penetration, arching your body forwards and hereby giving Timothée a full view of your breasts and the way they bounce with his every thrust inside you.

You moan pornographically at his slow and passionate movements upwards and deep inside you, finding your special spot within moments. He settles his hands upon your hips, squeezing them and guiding your every movement. You ride him just the way he wants you to, you can see it in his eyes. He looks at you like a teenage boy would at a naked supermodel, of which you are only naked and most definitely not a supermodel, despite him treating you like one, and Timothée is thankfully older than a teenage boy yearning for sex.

“You look so fucking brilliant.” He tells you, admiring the way that your face contorts with pleasure while taking every inch of him.

You rhythmically grind your hips against him, swirling them occasionally just to hear him cry out. Nothing is a hinderance from you going faster, but this sex isn’t needing to be urgent to be satisfying. He squeezes your hips harder and you decides to move up a little further, bouncing back down on him as he becomes buried to the hilt in your desperate core. You do it again, engulfing him anew and moaning his name continually from the mix of friction and pleasure that’s sending you into another euphoria, but not enough to release again just yet.

Timothée still hasn’t taken his eyes off you, namely your breasts where he’s currently focussed, eyes trained on your hardened nipples - partly from not wearing a shirt and partly from Timothée’s ministrations. He leans up and captures your left nipple in his mouth, sucking and kissing and swirling his tongue around you in the most divine way possible. He moves his hands away from your hips too, allowing you to grind your hips on his in any way that you like. His one hand moves to your other breast, tweaking and pulling at your right peak and sending sensations through your body that you’d never realised could be real before; while his other slips to the rounds of your ass, squeezing delectably.

“Mr Chalamet, p-please,” you find yourself begging, leaning down while still riding him, his torture on your breasts never ceasing, not even when he thrusts his hips up one final time, allowing your core to devour him whole and sending you into your third otherworldly climax of the night.

“Timothée!” You scream, your climax pouring out of you. You feel him come too, and you hear him cry out your name like a blessing.

He doesn’t pressure you, he just waits until you’re able to clamber off him with as minimal pain and exhaustion as possible, though you do whine at the loss of contact as you lie beside him, his arms securely around you and holding you as close to him as possible. It doesn’t matter that you’re both sweaty or spent, it just feels special.

“Look at that, done before 1am.” He chides, cuddling into you. You laugh a little at him, especially his humour, but it is rather remarkable.

“Two rounds, a meal, and a concert. Can’t speak for you, but I’m knackered.” He smiles at you sleepily, passing you the shirt that you wore earlier. You shrug it on and do it up while Timothée puts his joggers back on and draws the curtains, leaving the two of you in dark for the most part. You lie further down, still close to his thin chest, you hear his breathing rattle a little, but it's soothing.

“Night beautiful.” Is the last thing you hear before falling asleep in his arms.

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

The only issue about sleeping with Timothée is that you forget it's a Saturday morning, and on Saturdays, you have to work. Your phone alarm starts to go off at 7.15 precisely, which when you’re home, gives you enough chance to get ready for teaching in a calm manner so that you aren’t already angry before teaching little children how to play Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. Today however, that is not the case.

Timothée sleeps through it somehow, but your eyes are shocked wide awake, causing you to leap from the comfort and warmth of his bed and cuddles just to crawl on the floor in search of your phone and where it fell last night. You find it next to his door somehow, and switch the alarm off immediately, propping yourself up against the door to release a long held breath and to watch the sun rise through his windows. He looks so beautiful asleep, his lips parted slightly, soft snores escaping every so often, dark eyebrows furrowed and his mop of curls haphazardly lying around him like a halo. The morning glow makes his cheekbones appear even more defined.

You want to gather your belongings without waking him, get dressed and catch a cab back to your flat, but just as you go to open his door, he stirs.

“Where do you think you’re going beautiful? Come back to bed, I’m keeping you here with me forever.” You know he’s joking, and his words melt your heart and inhibitions a little, but you can’t justify staying

“I have to work, my first student is at 9.30.” You say, walking across to stand beside his bed and brush some hair off his forehead, kissing him and your lips lingering on his sweaty skin a little longer than they probably should have.

“And? I’ll drive you home in time, if you live near Juilliard then I know a shortcut. Just come back.” He's virtually pleading, puppy eyes and quivering lip just to add to the effect, and you simply can’t say no when he looks so perfect. You place your things on the floor by the bed and slip beside him, allowing your eyes to flutter shut just a moment longer.

His finger traces your naked body beneath the shirt, focussing on the bruises he left on your hips and the marks on your neck. Just his touch is enough to take control of your body, to give you goosebumps, to electrify every feeling of love and lust held within.

“Can I use your shower please?” You ask him, and he nods, placing his chin atop your head.

“I’ll take you to my bathroom and then I’ll make you breakfast. Grab whatever clothing you want from my room, but you can’t leave this bed until you agree to dinner with me tonight.”

Your heart rate increases tenfold at his gesture, and you want to take a leap of faith and say yes straight away, but that would be playing your cards too quickly. “We’ll see.” You respond sultrily, making your way to leave, but his strong grip pulls you flush against him with no space to move. You can hear him laughing in your ear.

“Say yes to dinner and then you can leave.” He slips his hands further down your front without losing his grip and decides to toy with your clit as though it’ll get you to talk.

“Y-yes! God, Timothée, of course I’ll go to dinner with you, just don’t stop!” You find it impossible to understand the shockwaves of pleasure pulsating and electrifying your every sense from an action as simple as the pads of his fore and middle fingers twisting and pressing your sensitive clit. It’s so incredible that after the previous night, it feels like overstimulation, and you can’t get enough.

“I’ll never stop.” He murmurs gruffly into your ear, you can hear the hoarseness that smoking causes but god it sounds and tastes so good.

He pulls your body closer and rolls you over. “Hey baby.” You say as calmly as you can, but within seconds you find yourself sitting on his face, half of his stunning bone structure lost beneath you. He delves his tongue into your already dripping heat, licking as far as he can get and only pulling away to kiss and suckle at your clit.

“Let me come Mr Chalamet!” You cry out, and with one final swipe of his tongue around your core and a squeeze of your ass, you let go. Timothée licks you clean while you still chant his name, and he proceeds to pick you up in order to carry you to the bathroom. You settle your heels at the base of his spine, digging in a little, and his arms tense beneath your ass from the manner he carries you. You like being above him, able to trace every line and bit of stubble on his face with your focussed eyes that he stares so deeply into at any given chance.

“Don’t be too long or I’ll be tempted to join you.”

You slowly cross the threshold of the bathroom, winking at him as you close the door. He inaudibly groans, but you can tell from his facial expression and the tension in his joggers that make him look utterly sexy. You slowly unbutton his shirt, reluctant to take it off, but when you step under the warm jet of his shower, that reluctance washes away along with any inhibitions you may have had about Timothée. He’s an angel: clean, respectful, enjoys classical music, has a cat, isn’t a cocky dickhead, and he’s literally the most gorgeous human being that you’ve ever laid eyes on.

You run your fingers through your hair, standing directly beneath his showerhead. The steam clouds your vision, but you can hear Timothée singing while he cooks, Mystery of Love. What a dork, you think, chuckling to yourself while you rinse Tim’s shower gel from your body, and you just know that after this you’ll smell like him, but he smells delectable. As the water hits the most sensitive parts of your body, you remember the previous night. Just the thought of what he did to you makes you crave his touch again.

Through the bathroom window, you can make out the New York traffic that builds every morning, accompanied by the screeching of tires and sirens and car horns. Despite it being a ruckus, it's soothing as you step out the shower and wrap yourself in one of Timothée’s fluffy towels.

“How do you look so sexy when you’re getting out of the shower? God, I can't stress it enough, you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve seen in my life, even without any makeup and with your hair un-styled, just wrapped in my Goddamn towel. You’re gonna be mine, mark my words.” You feel tears come to your eyes at his kind words, watching him purposefully walk from the kitchen and all the way across his apartment just to place his hands on your waist and tell you how beautiful you are. Those words are better than a concerto to you.

Once you’ve finished getting dry in his bedroom, you ferret through his drawers until you pull out a white top with various tie dye patterns across it. It’s cute, very Timothée. You pull it on and it reaches your mid thighs, making it clock in your head just how much of a lanky lad he is. You bundle together your stuff and head out of his room, closing the door behind you and greeting him with a kiss. He sits you at the breakfast bar and serves you a proper cooked breakfast: bacon, scrambled eggs, and pancakes.

“There's ketchup and syrup in the cupboard if you’d like.” He offers, sidling up on the seat beside you, nudging the tip of your nose with his thumb. The smile hasn’t left your face since you met him.

“This is good, you’re an excellent cook.” You tell him, resting your hand on his. His cheeks glow an even brighter red in the cascading morning sunlight, dappled by his blinds, but he looks magnificent despite his embarrassment.

You take out your phone, just to take a picture of the breakfast while it’s still untouched, and of your hand held by Timothée’s, already wearing rings. You notice that he’s already wearing a silver chain too, and a couple of bracelets on the wrist away from your own, which you find unusually attractive.

“I wish you could stay all day.” he whispers, placing his forehead on yours.

“Me too.” you say softly, smiling sadly and caressing his cheek.

You finish your breakfast and make your way to the living room in a strange kind of waltz orchestrated by Timothée. He insists on holding your waist and turning around a little, moving your feet in sync until you yank him down onto the sofa, catching his lips mid sigh which leads to a much more passionate make out session than you anticipated. Once that’s over, he plaits your hair beautifully, explaining how it used to calm his sister down before an audition. By the time he’s finished a very good pair of plaits, you check the time and it’s already 9, time for you to leave with NYC traffic, but Tim won’t let you go.

“Not without a photo.” He insists, but you question his reasons. Who would want a photo of you with wet hair in plaits, an oversized tee-shirt and a bare face? But his answer is too sweet to refuse. “I like taking pictures of beautiful things, and of which, you are the most beautiful.” Your cheeks flush a raging scarlet, and Timothée takes your few moments of silence as the perfect opportunity to take a picture of you, sunlight hitting your face in all the right places, and he takes another for good measure, his hand on your cheek and his lips on yours, a kiss that shuts you up for good.

He takes you down the stairs right to the garage where he keeps his car, and surprisingly, it’s an understated car, not crazily extortionate nor flashy, something which you respect highly. He sits you in the passenger side, making sure to kiss you before closing the door, and he gets in the driver's side. After starting the engine and leaving the parking lot, he lays his palm flat against your thigh and keeps it there the whole drive while you change gears for him. You tell him all about your childhood, your high school, your time in uni while he tells you his life at a performing arts high school and then his life as an actor, he truly fascinates you.

Once he pulls up outside your building, he tries to convince you to let him come in, or at least walk you to your door, but on the grounds of not scaring the life out of your neighbours and students, you say no with a promise to see him later.

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard tonight that you won’t be able to walk.” He says, pulling you in for a final passionate kiss before you step out of the car. He made you wet just before you have to work, you’ll get him back later, but the revenge melts as soon as he leans out the window to blow you a kiss and tell you how stunning you are.

You’re so lost in your trance of Timothée that you don’t notice your first student tapping you on the shoulder and excitedly saying “Was that the Timothée Chalamet?”

You chuckle to yourself, watching him drive off into traffic, all for you. “Yes it was love, yes it was.”

#timothee chalamet #concerto #timmy t #chalamet #tim chalamet #timothee chalamet smut #timothee chalamet imagine #timothee chalamet fluff #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee smut #timothee fluff #timothee imagine

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sisterspooky1013 · 3 years

Text

Only One Choice, Part 2, Chapter 4

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

Finally, after fifteen minutes of staring at her mostly full coffee cup, Mulder tosses both their drinks in the trash and trudges back to the Hoover building. He had plans to work late, but seeing Scully makes focusing on work impossible so he goes home to lie on the couch and stare at the ceiling instead, replaying their one-sided conversation over and over. Upon reflection, he realizes that he didn’t speak a single word to her other than her name. He was paralyzed, his feelings for her in direct conflict with his desire to never again feel the way he felt after she left his apartment that final time. He wishes that he’d asked her what she wanted from him, why she was there.

The phone rings and he rolls off the couch to retrieve it from his desk.

“Hello?”

“Will, I’m surprised you’re home. I was expecting to leave you a message.”

He smiles at the coincidence of Valerie calling him at this exact moment; she always seems to intuit when he needs to hear from her. Like he does with everyone, he had directed her to call him by his last name when they met. She did so for a while, but when things took a turn towards the intimate she informed him that she could not call a man she was sleeping with “Mulder” and sought to find an alternate moniker, Fox being out of the question. He was Maverick for a bit, then Sly, and for a brief moment Doug (he was never clear on the origin of that one). Ultimately, she went with his middle name, William, and finally shortened it to Will.

“Oh, and why’s that? My bustling social calendar?” he retorts, finding his way back to the couch and sitting heavily.

Valerie snorts. “More like your hopeless addiction to work. How are you? It’s been too long.”

Mulder sighs. “I’m...okay.”

“That bad, huh? You wanna talk about it?”

He considers the question. Talking to his ex-girlfriend about another woman seems a bit uncouth. “I’m not sure it’s something you’d want to weigh in on.”

“Girl trouble, then?” she says with a smile in her voice.

“Something like that, yeah.”

“Spill it,” she demands.

He tells her everything, about meeting Scully, about getting to know her, falling in love with her. He spares some of the gory details on their sexual encounter and her visit the next morning. He finishes on seeing her that day, and the reason he begged off work early. This is the most he’s shared with anyone about Scully, The Gunmen being great friends, but not the sort you seek dating advice from. It feels good to get it all out.

“Damn, Will. That’s a lot. Shouldn’t you be happy, though, after seeing her today?” He can hear the crunch of potato chips as she speaks, ever the dedicated snacker.

“It was good to see her in a sense, but it also feels a bit like a step backward. Like I’ve lost progress in the effort to move on.” He’s lying down now, one leg kicked over to rest on the coffee table and Priscilla curled up on his belly.

“I don’t get it,” Valerie says deadpan.

“What do you mean?” he asks.

“You’ve been pining over this woman for the better part of a year, and she turns up to tell you she’s single and she realizes that she should have chosen you all along. That’s somewhat of a fairy tale ending, is it not? Aside from the whole cheating-on-her-fiancé-part, I guess.”

“No, Val, she said that getting involved with me was a mistake, which I already knew. If anything she was rubbing it in, which seems uncharacteristically cruel.” He runs a hand down Priscilla’s back and she cracks an irritated eye at him until he stops.

“Oh my god, Will,” Valerie replies, pulling the phone away from her cheek and sighing in exasperation. “You know, for all that fancy education your parents paid for, you’re really dense sometimes.”

“Well then by all means, enlighten me.”

“She said she ignored the signs and made the wrong choice. She’s divorced now. The marriage was the wrong choice, you dolt. That other guy was the wrong choice. The signs were telling her you were the right one.”

Mulder sits up suddenly, Priscilla clinging to his chest in a last-ditch attempt not to get dumped on the floor and piercing his skin painfully. She ends up on the couch beside him.

“How sure are you about that?” he asks, his heart starting to race.

“Pretty damn sure. The way you describe her, she sounds like a thoughtful person. I don’t see what motivation she’d have to reiterate to you that what happened was a mistake; she’d already made that clear in the first go-round. The only reason she’d want to say all that to you is if she realized she was wrong. She wanted to set the record straight, and apologize. Not for what happened with you, but for choosing the other guy.” He can hear the slurp of her eating something like soup in between sentences, the wet smacks making this revelation sound like an offhand comment.

He’s quiet for a long moment, replaying his interaction with Scully today through the lense of her wishing she’d walked away from Ethan, that she’d chosen him. He closes his eyes. Does he dare hope that Valerie is right?

“You still there, Will?” she asks impatiently.

“Yeah, yeah I’m here. I’m just...trying to wrap my head around all this.”

“Well, I gotta run, so hopefully you can do your ruminating solo. I didn’t even get to tell you the reason I called.” He can hear her up and moving about, opening and closing drawers and cupboards.

“Shit, you’re right. Sorry. What’s up?”

“I’m pregnant,” she says, and then waits a beat before adding “it’s not yours, if that’s where your brain is going. We haven’t slept together in almost two years, you may recall.”

“Uh, yeah...yeah I do recall that seeing as I haven’t slept with anyone in almost two years. Are you...should I be offering congratulations? This is a good thing?” He’s hesitant, unsure if they’ve reached a stage of life where a pregnancy is happy news.

“Yeah, it’s a good thing. I’ve been seeing this guy for a little over six months. It wasn’t planned, but we’re excited. The relationship is still pretty new, obviously, but I think I can see myself growing old on a porch swing with him.” There’s a smile in her voice, a dreamy contentedness that makes his chest ache. It’s the reason they broke up, so they might each have a chance at something like this. He hopes he’ll have his chance too.

“That’s great, Val. I’m happy for you,” he says with a tight voice.

“Thanks, Will. Sounds like you found your person, too. You just gotta go out and get her.”

“Yeah, I guess I do.”

“What does she call you, by the way?”

“She calls me Mulder.”

Valerie laughs softly. “Must be fate.”

———

The days since seeing Mulder have been dreary, both in terms of the weather and her mood. She has already lectured Missy repeatedly over her terrible advice to see him again, opening up fresh wounds and sealing shut doors that she had previously held out hope might open again. The morose look on his face as she admitted that she wished she’d chosen him was a kick to the gut. It was too late, far too late, and he wasn’t able to forgive her. Though it’s what she knows she deserves, it still hurts.

She sits in the clean and quiet autopsy bay, filling out paperwork that she tends to reserve for the end of her days. She’s been working more overtime lately, in no rush to return to an empty apartment and be alone with her thoughts and self recrimination. The idea of dating seems obscene, and yet she can admit that she’s lonely. But not lonely for just anyone; she wants only the one person she knows she will never have.

“Excuse me,” calls out a smooth baritone from behind her, and she turns on her stool to see Mulder there. His charcoal grey suit and white dress shirt stand in contrast against his red tie, one hand in his pocket in an attempt to be casual. The cool bravado she saw in him before is absent, replaced with something vulnerable and raw. She feels adrenaline rush through her limbic system, stealing from her the ability to speak.

“I’m looking for the pathologist on duty,” he continues, and she feels a rock in her gut. He had to come here for work, and see her again. She feels guilty for existing in a space that he is forced to enter.

“I’m the pathologist on duty,” she responds regretfully.

He approaches her cautiously, taking the stool beside her without invitation, and considers her for a moment. With a look of trepidation, he holds out his hand and she gives him a quizzical look.

“Fox Mulder,” he says, his green eyes so earnest and open. There is no anger, no resentment.

“Dana Scully,” she replies, her voice catching as she understands, slipping her hand into his.

They are starting over. A clean slate. A new chance to get it right.

“You don’t look like a Dana,” he says, and there’s just a hint of playfulness in his voice.

She laughs, her mouth smiling while her eyes glaze over with tears. Their hands still clasped, he pulls her close, her stool rolling into the space between his knees as he wraps his arms around her shoulders. She should be embarrassed by this unprofessional display out in the open, but the only feeling she can muster is relief at the smell of his cologne and the press of his chest into her cheek. How many nights has she mourned the loss of this? Hundreds. Perhaps last night will be the final time.

“Would you like to get coffee with me?” he asks against her hair and she laughs again, nodding as her cheek brushes his shoulder. “Are you free now?” he adds.

She pulls back and looks at him, his eyes shining back at her with hope they’d both given up on.

“Yes, I’m free,” she answers.

#the x files #txf #dana scully #fox mulder #gillovny #msr #sculder #x files #x files fanfic #alternate universe

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joheun-saram · 3 years

Text

otsukare sama deshita (sope)

Summary- Hoseok knows the perfect partner for his new song, but will Yoongi agree?

word count- 1.6k

pairing- Hoseok x Yoongi (platonic)

rating- G

genre- friendship, fluff, slight angst (not really)

warnings- none

a.n- HAPPY BIRTHDAY DEAN!!! 🥳 I wrote this as a birthday present for @eternalseokjin but in typical mars fashion, i was late. I hope you enjoy my first mxm fic. this is my take on how hobi convinced yoongi to perform with him. when i floated this idea on the net people thought it was gonna be a crack fic, but honestly i think yoongi respects hobi too much to protest a lot lol

A huge shoutout to @hoebii and @hobisbeautifulass for beta reading this! 💕

As always feedback appreciated, a reblog and a like goes a far way. Send me an ask! 💌

perm taglist- @cheesecakes-randomshitz, @aroseforyoongi

Hoseok was excited. In fact, he was beyond excited. He had spent the Japanese tour leg writing a song that he felt was the perfect mix of goofy and talent, if he could say so himself. A cheerful, optimistic song that portrayed his J-Hope persona to a T. He knew it wasn’t going to go in any of the albums; he had told his fellow co-writers in Japan as much, but he just knew that ARMY would love it as soon as he unveiled it. The only thing that would make it better would be if he could get a certain friend of his to join in on the antics. A certain grumpy friend that sat across from him zoning out as he sipped his iced Americano, even though it was close to 10pm.

“Hyung, can I run something by you?” Hosoek asked, feigning an air of nonchalance, as he rolled his chair closer to the couch Yoongi was sprawled on. He rested his feet against the cushions, leaning back against the chair, his fingers drumming against the arm rests. He didn’t want to admit it but he was a little nervous. Chances were that Yoongi would agree to his proposition; he was usually very easy going and enjoyed the fanservice that they partook in. However, lately Yoongi had been pretty stressed, short tempered and tired, snapping at everyone. He hadn’t shared why, but Hoseok felt it was something personal that he didn’t want to pry on.

Hoseok’s voice broke Yoongi out of his thoughts as he looked up to the brightly dressed man in front of him. He mirrored the frown on Hoseok’s face as he hummed for him to continue. Yoongi would never admit it, but he was in no mood for a conversation; his head running through the overwhelmingly long to-do list he had to accomplish before the end of tomorrow. The longer he looked at Hoseok sitting in silence, the deeper his frown got. What was he so fidgety for? It was putting him on edge, not to mention adding to his stress.

“Spit it out, Hobah,” he snapped, sighing a little in frustration as Hoseok cleared his throat tentatively.

“Well… I wrote this song. I was wondering if you wanted to perform together.” That’s it? Hoseok just wanted to perform a song together? What was the big deal about that?

“Yeah okay. Sure,” Yoongi acquiesced easily, much to Hoseok’s surprise. Hoseok’s face broke into a large grin, one that brought a small smile on the older rapper’s face.

“Promise?” Hoseok asked, almost bouncing excitedly. Yoongi furrowed his brows suspiciously, knowing that there was no way he was this giddy about a simple duet. Something had to be up.

“You’re making me rethink this…” Yoongi said as he looked over the rim of the plastic coffee cup in his hand, missing his mouth with the straw before capturing it with his lips with a huff and an eye roll. Hoseok chuckled at the action before continuing.

“Oh come on! It’ll be fun! I can just imagine ARMY’s excitement! A Sope unit song!” Hoseok radiated enthusiasm, lifting Yoongi’s spirits as well as the corners of his mouth. He really was a ball of energy sometimes, his excitement almost contagious as he never failed to energize Yoongi, even when all he wanted to do was crawl in bed and sleep his life away.

“Fine. Let me hear it first,” Yoongi said with a snicker, eager to hear the masterpiece his friend had created. He couldn’t help shaking his head with a smile as Hoseok excitedly stood up, almost hopping to the computer to play the track. Yoongi smiled as the track played, habitually fidgeting with his lip in concentration.

To say it was different than any of the songs Hoseok had penned before was an understatement. Yoongi expected vibrant beats and spunky lyrics like the tracks Hoseok had consulted with him on for his future mixtape but this song was a rollercoaster, a tongue-in-cheek trot song of optimism. He smiled as the track played on, Hoseok’s cheerful vocals a perfect fit for the atmosphere it created. As the chorus played again, Yoongi couldn’t help but sing along to the catchy words under his breath. An action not missed by Hoseok, whose smile only got wider.

As the song came to an end, Yoongi felt his mood lightened, the song already stuck in his head. Hoseok hadn’t written many songs alone before and he felt proud of his friend’s accomplishment. “It’s good. Good job, Hoseok!” Yoongi complimented, a gummy smile on his face.

“Thanks!” Hoseok sang out, his smile quickly replaced by his professional straight face as he continued on with the details of the collaboration, which part Yoongi would sing and the vibe he would add. Yoongi found himself easily agreeing with him. He could do with a fun project, and to be completely honest he was ready to record it as soon as the month was over. However, this thought was brought to a screeching halt as the next words left Hoseok’s lips.

“So I was thinking we reveal it at the Japan fan meeting.” Yoongi’s eyes widened at the comment. *Was he serious?

“The one in two weeks?” Yoongi’s momentarily forgotten stress was back with full force, and he bit his nail. He had so many things on his plate that adding a song that he would not only have to record, but learn the dance and words to *within the next fortnight made his chest clench uneasily. He always had a hard time saying no to Hoseok but the more he thought about the endless things he had to work through, the easier it became. “Absolutely not.”

“Hyungnim!” Hoseok stretched the syllables cutely in a whine to appeal to his older member. He knew behind all the apathy Yoongi had a soft spot for him and it was not beyond him to use it to his advantage. He jumped from his chair next to Yoongi, an arm around the smaller man’s shoulders as he tried to get him as excited as he was. “The theme to Hwagae Market! We’ll wear cheesy suits and goof around! Come on! It’d be fun!”

Yoongi knew Hoseok was just being his usual self, but he felt slightly suffocated. Shrugging his arm off, Yoongi leaned forward, elbows on knees as he rubbed his face with a groan. He missed the way Hoseok frowned, certain now that something was bothering his friend. Before he could prod for details, Yoongi let out an exasperated sigh.

“I don’t know, Hoseok. Fuck. I’m just so stressed. I don’t know if I can take something else on right now.” Yoongi looked at him, a silent plea hidden in his eyes that made Hoseok’s heart tighten in empathy. He knew all about being overly stressed. It would be a lie to say the life they had chosen was easy and smooth sailing.

Hoseok always tried to keep a professional distance between his members, not wanting to overwhelm them when they had to spend so much time together by obligation. He always felt he was prying if he asked about their personal lives or struggles, but he also knew that Yoongi never brought up something unless he wanted to share. He just needed a push.

“You wanna talk about it?” Hoseok asked, placing his hand on Yoongi’s knee, trying to coax the rapper into conversation.

“I don’t know…” Yoongi began, but it didn’t take him long to delve into his problems. There was something about Hoseok that always led him to open up without feeling the guilt he sometimes did when sharing his feelings. Although Hoseok was usually loud and energetic, when prompted he was quiet and a great listener. Just looking at his face stoic in concentration made Yoongi feel as if what he was saying truly mattered, regardless if it was a useless rant about work stress that Hoseok himself had.

It was close to midnight by the time the two had wrapped up their heart to heart, empty beer bottles and half eaten dishes of sundae and tteokbokki cluttering the coffee table in front of them. Hoseok hadn’t expected Yoongi to open up to him the way he did, but he was glad to shoulder his burden with him. There was a reason he was closest with the introverted producer in the group; he seemed to make everything Hoseok said seem important, like it had substance, be it a stupid joke that Yoongi laughed at the loudest, or advice that he could’ve gotten off an Instagram inspiration page.

By the time they packed to make their way to the dorms, Hoseok felt almost bad for adding to Yoongi’s work load, but the dark haired man would have none of it.

“Nah, Hobi. We’re doing it,” Yoongi said, his voice stern and determined.

“Are you sure?” Hoseok asked, as he climbed into the passenger seat of Yoongi’s car, stuffing his backpack between his legs before strapping on his seatbelt. “It was a random idea. We don’t have to. I can table this song for next year.”

“No. It will be fun. ARMY will love it,” Yoongi replied, placing an arm on the back of Hoseok’s headrest as he turned to reverse out of the parking space, before driving out of the underground lot. “It’s a really good song, Hobi. Proud of you, man.”

Hoseok couldn’t help but chuckle at the earnest praise, feeling instantly shy. He was right though, he realized as he walked off the stage two weeks later, high on adrenaline with a huge grin on his face. His expression was mirrored on Yoongi’s face who clapped him on the back, panting hard.

“Sope des!” Yoongi joked, still laughing at how great the performance went, taking off the shiny sequined coat.

“Sope des!” echoed the rest of the boys cheerfully before rushing towards the stage, as Hoseok laughed putting on the jacket for the next performance.

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wiypt-writes · 3 years

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Riding High

Ch18: Sugar

Chapter Summary: It’s July, and Fliss’ birthday…

Chapter Warnings: Bad Language words.!!!

Chapter Pairings: Frank Adler x OFC Fliss Gallagher

A/N: Ok, so I know you’ve all been on edge since He-who-shall-not-be-named was released on parole and I hope this chapter doesn’t disappoint. We’ll be gearing up for a bit of a rough time over the next few chapters for Friss so buckle up…

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Fliss Gallagher and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Riding High Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Chapter 17

July 2018

“So now what?” Mary looked at Fliss as the two of them sat side by side at the table, both looking at the laptop in front of them.

“See these spaces here…” Fliss said, pointing to two empty squares dotted in the unpublished Internet Page and then to the larger space at the top “Now we need to add the photos…”

They were working on a project of sorts for Sandybrook’s website. They’d decided to give Monty his own little weekly blog for the summer called “The Life of Monty” which Mary had eagerly said she wanted to write, something for her to do over the break. “Ooh, ok!” Mary nodded “I already know which ones I want to use!” “Yeah?” Fliss looked at her.

“I want that one that has me, you and Monty in…you know the one that Frank likes where we are both laughing.” Fliss smiled “Ok, we can use that one.” “And then the other one is the one where Monty had the Party Hat on because it was his birthday.” “Good choice.” Fliss smiled “And what about the one across the top.” “The one of him in the pasture.” Mary said after a moment “Where he is looking up and pulling the funny face, you know with all his teeth out?”

Fliss grinned “Yeah, it looks like he is smiling.” Mary nodded eagerly “Yup.” With a move of the mouse, Fliss set to work selecting the photos, ensuring that they were positioned and sized right for the frames. She couldn’t help but smile at the one of her and Mary. Mary was looking at the camera, laughing a lot whilst Fliss was, in turn, watching her and laughing too. Frank had been trying to take the photo of the 2 of them but Bill had been stood behind him, pulling stupid faces which had reduced Mary to tears, and her giggles had then set Fliss off. Frank said he adored the photo, that much in-fact it was now the screen-saver on his phone.

Fliss clicked save and then looked at Mary. “Wanna give it a final read over, check if you want to add anything else?”

Mary nodded.

“Ok, you do that I’m gonna start dinner.” “What are we having?” Mary looked at her.

“Carbonara. That ok?”

Mary grinned her approval as Fliss stood up, dropped a kiss to Mary’s head and walked into the kitchen.

It wasn’t long before Frank came home and greeted Mary before he headed into the kitchen area. He wrapped his arms round Fliss from behind, dropping a kiss to her neck.

“Good day?” he asked and she hmmed in agreement.

“Not bad…are you filthy, as usual?”

He chuckled as he let her go and moved to the fridge. She stopped what she was doing and turned to face him as he reached in for the water jug. He was, as always, covered in grime from his work and Fliss bit her lip. There was definitely something about seeing him in his dirty work jeans and grubby T-shirts that got her blood pumping.

“Stop it.” he said, giving her a look, knowing full well what she was thinking. She shrugged and with a grin turned back to the food.

“Oh, erm, wanted to check…are you if we use photos of Mary for her blog on the website?” Fliss asked, turning back to him.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” “It’s a public sight.” Fliss shrugged “Just wanted to check that’s all.” “It’s fine.” Frank said, placing a kiss to her cheek “I think it’s a really good idea anyway, give her something to do and practice her writing. Like Bonnie said, she’s sharp on the numbers but could do with honing up her English a little bit. She’s too logical, this should give her something to be creative with and keep her occupied over the break.”

And you…he refrained from adding. In the week following the notification that parole had been granted, John had been released. And this had set Fliss on edge. One night after she had snapped at Frank, causing a full scale argument over the fact he had bought the wrong type of salad dressing, she’d broken down and confessed that she wasn’t sleeping properly and this was causing stupid things, like Ranch v French dressing, to tip her over the edge.

The day after her spectacular salad dressing related melt down, Greg, who had already requested details of the terms of his release, came over and the 3 of them gone through, in detail what it meant realistically for Fliss.

“Basically it’s as good as you could hope for.” Greg explained “He is forbidden from contacting you or any of your family in any way, via any means. He is State-bound to Massachusetts, specifically the Boston area. He’s tagged, and on a curfew between the hours of 7pm and 7am. And moreover the authorities here are following the UK’s lead as well and trialling these new GPS tracking tags, which they’ve deemed him eligible for. So at any time, any place, they’ll be able to lock onto his whereabouts…”

“So if he does breach his conditions…” Fliss started and Greg nodded “They’ll be on him like a shot.” he said, with a gentle smile “Look, I know this is shit…but you really do have nothing to worry about. One breach and he’s back inside. And when he reaches the end of his parole, we’ll file for an injunction with the same conditions. Keep him away from you.”

Since the conversation with Greg, Fliss had calmed down somewhat but still, in week following her confession she didn’t spend a night away from Frank, seemingly coping better with the fact that she was around him, and even when he wasn’t there, the fact she was in his apartment gave her some safety and comfort.

So he’d asked her to move in permanently 3 days ago. Which he was still waiting for an answer on.

“What you thinking?” her voice broke through his thoughts.

“Honestly?”

“Always.” she nodded.

“When you’re gonna give me an answer to that question I asked you a few days back.” She took a deep breath and looked down at the floor before she looked up at him, a soft smile on her face.

“Are you sure you want me here, full time, and you’re not just asking because-“

“Lissy…” he cut her off, shaking his head “I’d have asked you move in here the day I did if I’d thought you’d have said yes. I’d love you to come live with us. And I know Mary would too…” “Ok, that’s blackmail.” she narrowed his eyes at the fact he’d dropped Mary into the equation and he grinned. “Is it working?”

She bit her lip and nodded “Yeah, ok, I’d love to…” “Yeah?” he said, a huge smile spreading across his face, warmth flooding his chest.

“Yeah…” she nodded, and grinned as he wrapped his arms around her, pressing a kiss to her lips.

“Gross…” Mary mumbled as she walked past the pair of them to the fridge, retrieving a juice box. . Frank broke away to look at her as she stabbed the straw into the hole at the top.

“Better get over it Stack.” he smirked. “Fliss just agreed to come live with us.” “Really?” her eyes widened and she grinned as Fliss nodded. Mary moved over to the pair of them and wrapped her arms around them both, Frank’s hand falling to the back of her head as she looked up at him. “Does that mean I don’t need to eat any more of your cooking, like ever again?”

Frank rolled his eyes and glanced at Fliss who was chuckling slightly “Trust me Mary…” she said, grinning “I’ve no intention of eating his cooking either.”

***** Of course Verity and Bill were over the moon when Fliss told them she was moving into Frank’s, and the next week or so they all spent doing various runs with the things she decided she needed to take. Everything else she would be leaving in the annex to either throw or store at a later date.

Considering the amount of time they spent together, it wasn’t a huge change for them, it just meant that the comfortable routine they adopted when they were together became a daily one, and it suited the pair of them just fine. Frank also surprised Fliss by getting her a vanity unit which she had made a passing comment about, making space for it in their room.

After 3 weeks it had become the new normal for them. They shared chores, shared Activity Club runs, grocery shopping, bills…Frank had tried to object to that one but Fliss had put her foot down insisting that if she was living there she was paying her way so he’d caved in the end and agreed. Fliss felt happy, safe, secure, loved...and Frank was over the moon simply knowing he had her to come home to every night.

One particular evening, a few days before her Birthday they were due to meet Evelyn for dinner as she was in town again to visit Mary, but Fliss was running ridiculously late, and as a consequence was in a total flap

“Fuck, fuck…” she groaned, jumping out of the jeep and calling Thor to her. “Come on buddy…”

She hurried across the lawns and threw the door to the apartment open, Thor shooting in before her.

“I’m so sorry I’m late…” she instantly began apologising as she walked into the living area and groaned loudly “The last lesson overran and then one of the waterers broke in the livery barn, flooded Horatio’s stable…” “It’s ok, calm down…” Frank chuckled, dropping a kiss to her cheek. “How did it break?”

“He’s been scratching his arse on it.” she said, rubbing at her temple “He broke it off the wall. We turned the supply off but I had to sort his bed before I left, then call his owner to tell her…” she groaned “Fucking nightmare.” “Want me to take a look at it?”

Fliss shook her head “Dad’s gonna do it tomorrow, keep him busy. He always moans at me for asking you and not…” she trailed off as she spotted Evelyn who was sat on one of the chairs in the living room. “Oh, Evelyn…hi. Sorry, I didn’t realise you were coming here…I thought…”

“We were…” Frank explained “But Mary wasn’t feeling too good so I suggested to Mother she come here instead.” “Oh, no, is she ok?” Fliss asked.

“Too much sun I think, she’s been running around at the Activities Camp all day and hardly drunk anything, despite the lecture you gave her. She’s had some water and gone for a nap. She’ll be fine when it’s time for dinner.”

“I thought seeing as we can’t go out I’d treat you to take out.” Evelyn spoke, standing up. Fliss eyed her for a moment before she shrugged.

“I can make something.” she offered, and Frank shook his head. “No, Lissy…” “I can do chicken with that pear and blue cheese salad you and Mary liked.” Fliss said, “Surely that’s gonna be better for her than a take out if she’s feeling shitty?”

Frank looked at her and then to his mother “That ok with you?” “Sure, that sounds good.” Evelyn nodded “but only if it’s no trouble.” “It’s fine.” Fliss nodded “Let me go take a shower and then I’ll get started ok?” Frank nodded and dropped a kiss to her cheek before she headed off to the bathroom. Thor made his way into the living room and took his usual place on the rug, flopping down as he looked up at Evelyn as she followed Frank over to the kitchen area. He pulled a bottle of white wine out of the fridge and held it up.

“Sancerre?” Evelyn arched an eyebrow. “And a pretty good one too…” “Fliss’ choice, not mine. I assume that means you’d like a glass.” “I don’t want to put you out Frank.” she said, and he shook his head.

“You’re here now so…” he said “Oh, we normally eat outside but I’m not sure if Mary’s-”

“What, in open view of everyone?” Evelyn asked, horrified “It’s hardly-“ She stopped dead as Frank shot her a look, and held her hands up. “Point taken…”

Frank poured her a glass then got a beer for himself and leaned back against the counter as his Mother nodded appreciatively at the wine.

“So, pear and blue cheese…” she said and Frank looked at her “You hated cheese as a child.” “Well, I like it now.” he shrugged “And Mary loves that salad so…” “It’s not a dish I would normally associate with a child to be honest.” Evelyn mused.

“Well, I think we can both agree Mary isn’t a particularly standard child so…”

At that point Fred sauntered into the kitchen, straight to his food bowl. Evelyn eyed him, before she turned to Frank and smiled “I already took a Benadryl…” He snorted and a few seconds later Mary appeared.

“Hi Grandmother. Fliss said you were here.” “You feeling ok?” Frank asked as she walked over to him. He swung her up and she rest her head on his shoulder, nodding. “Want some more water?” “Fliss told me to ask for the elec…erm…the electo-” “Electrolytes” he said, nodding. “Not a bad shout…”

He set her on the counter and then reached into the cabinet to the right of the sink where they kept the medical supplies and pulled a sachet from the box. Grabbing a glass he pulled the Filter jug out of the fridge and made her the drink before he handed it to her. “Take it slow ok?” She nodded and took it from him with a thanks, sipping at it carefully, pulling a face. “What flavour is that?” “It says orange.” he answered, looking at the packet.

“Well it’s wrong. That’s disgusting.” “It’s good for you, so stop complaining.” Frank tossed the empty sachet into the trash.

To his surprise he heard his mother chuckling and he turned to look at her. “I remember giving you something similar when you came home with sunstroke from playing Baseball all afternoon. You spat it out and told me you’d rather die than drink it.” Frank gave a huff and then turned to Mary who was grinning ear to ear “Don’t even think about it.” he pointed at her.

She shrugged and then took another mouthful, grimacing as she drank. “Please can I get down?” Frank obliged and watched as she headed off to the sofa, Thor jumping up besides her, settling his head in her lap.

“Go and talk to her.” Frank looked at his mother “That’s why you’re here, to spend time with her. Not me.”

Evelyn nodded, and for a moment Frank thought he saw a flicker of emotion in the woman’s eyes, but as quick as it had flashed across her face it was gone and she turned and made her way into the sofa. Frank leaned on the edge of the archway which led into the living area and watched as she sat down in the chair she had occupied previously before he heard the door to the bathroom open again, signalling Fliss was out of the shower. He moved to start taking the different things they needed to make dinner out of the fridge and turned on the oven before he seasoned the chicken breasts just as she had shown him with salt, pepper, chilli and a squeeze of lime. He dropped it onto a tray, placed it in the oven and was washing his hands when Fliss walked dressed casually in a pair of shorts and a fading Guns N Roses tank top. She was barefoot and her damp hair was piled up on her head in a haphazard bun. This was Frank’s favourite way to see her. Completely relaxed and at home.

“Chicken’s in.” he said as he turned to the fridge and then poured her a glass of wine.

“Thank you.” she smiled, taking a sip.

“Can I show Evelyn around?” Mary asked, and Frank turned to her.

“Finished your drink?” “Yeah.” “Ok then yes, of course you can.” She stood up and Evelyn followed, giving the pair of them a smile as she passed by the kitchen area of the open plan living space

“Oh, Felicity.” “Fliss, please.” Fliss nodded to her as she turned back to what she was doing.

“Fliss, sorry, but could I be awkward?” Evelyn asked.

“No doubt you can.” Fliss mumbled between gritted teeth and Frank smirked to himself before she tuned to look at Evelyn.

“Could I ask for my salad dressing on the side?”

“That’s fine.” Fliss nodded “I’ll make you a separate bowl.” “Thank you, that’s very kind.” Evelyn smiled before she headed out after Mary.

“If she doesn’t eat this, then she’s gonna be wearing it.” Fliss looked at Frank who let out a laugh as he chopped up the slices of cucumber.

“Now that I would pay to see.” “I’ll do it for free.” Fliss narrowed her eyes.

Frank chuckled again as they continued to make their food. After about 10 minutes or so, just as they were dropping the salad bowls onto the table, Evelyn and Mary re-appeared.

“You’ve made a nice home, certainly considering the area anyway.” Evelyn said, as Frank invited her to sit at the table before he headed back to grab the bottle of wine, a beer for himself and more water for Mary.

Fliss rolled her eyes” The area is fine, and Frank did it all, not me. Well, him and my dad. I only moved in a few weeks ago.”

“Yes, he does speak very highly of your parents.” “Well they love him.” Fliss shrugged “But then again what’s not to love.”

Evelyn looked at Fliss for a moment as Frank made his way back to the table, and they all settled down and began to eat. As she had been at Mary’s birthday, his mother was polite, nodding appreciatively at the food, joining in the conversation and she sat with Mary once they’d finished so Mary could show he the latest installation of Monty’s blog. After another bottle of wine and a few more beers, Frank realised it was getting quite late and then told Mary she needed to be getting ready for bed. Evelyn took this as her queue to call for her driver, which Frank was pleased about as it saved him having to ask her to leave.

Mary headed for a shower and the three adults made small talk until she reappeared in her pyjamas just as Evelyn’s driver called to announce his arrival. She bid Mary goodnight and then Frank made to walk her down to her car when the woman surprised him and looked at Fliss.

“Could you…I’d like to speak to you.” Fliss looked at Frank before she shrugged “Yeah, sure…” Frank frowned, but didn’t object. He looked at his mother and nodded “Let me know when you want to see her again.”

“I was actually wondering if she could come to Boston for a few days.” Evelyn said and Frank took a deep breath. “Obviously, when it’s convenient.” “Maybe.” He nodded “Goodbye Evelyn.” “Yes, I’ll call you.” she nodded and then the two women headed out of the apartment. Fliss stuck her hands in her pockets as they walked.

“I’m glad he took my advice.” Evelyn broke the silence “Regarding you, I mean…”

“Yeah he told me what you said to him.” Fliss gave a snort “Gotta say I was surprised after I’d unleashed quite a nasty verbal tirade on you…” “Well I think all things considered at the time I deserved it.” Evelyn shrugged “And I’m not surprised you hate me so-“

“I don’t hate you Evelyn.” Fliss cut her off, shaking her head “I hate what you did to Frank and Mary, and honestly? I still don’t understand it.”

“I thought I was doing the right thing.” “But how?” Fliss pressed “How was tearing a girl away from the only father figure she has ever known, the man that has cared for her and loved her since she was six months old the right thing?”

Evelyn shook her head “I know Frank and I made an assumption-” “No, you knew Frank.” Fliss looked at her, “It was, what? Almost 8 years since you saw him last when you turned up…and how long was it before he left Boston since you actually had a conversation with him? I just…” Fliss trailed off and looked down at her feet before she glanced back at Frank’s mother “it baffles me how someone can be so callous towards their own child, that’s all.”

Fliss watched as Evelyn stopped and looked at her “What do you want me to say?” “An apology might not go amiss…” “I did that with his birthday card, paying the fees…” “Money doesn’t make it ok Evelyn.” Fliss sighed, “And a card isn’t the same as saying it to his face…” she scratched at her head “If you want to try and salvage something from this mess, have some form of relationship with your son…” “What makes you think-“ “Because I saw you this evening, at various points, watching him…you might be able to keep your face straight but the eyes don’t lie” Fliss said gently. Evelyn looked down at the ground as Fliss continued. “I suggest you start with a verbal apology, a very open and honest discussion, because that’s when you get the best out of Frank. On a face-to-face level, when he isn’t being lied or talked down to”

“You really do know him exceptionally well don’t you?” Evelyn smiled.

“Well, we’ve had enough of our own discussions recently with everything that’s been going on so…” “Right, your ex-husband.” “How do you-“ Fliss sighed, “Mary?” “No, actually, she never said a word. I looked you up.”

“Course you did.” Fliss groaned.

“I was curious about your family.” Evelyn shrugged “You have quite the back story.” “Yeah well, its history.” she said “And long may it stay that way.”

“Well I hope for all your sakes it does.” Evelyn shook her head “Nothing I can’t stand less than a man that deems it acceptable to do that. Lord knows I pushed Preston the extremes at times but he never once raised a hand to me…or his voice now that I think about it. He preferred to argue on a cerebral level...”

“Very like Frank.” Fliss smiled.

“Yes, the two are exceptionally similar.” Evelyn said as they reached the car. “Thank you for dinner Fliss, it was a very enjoyable evening.” Fliss smiled and then as Evelyn opened the car door the woman turned back to her “Just think about what I said Evelyn. You can’t turn the clock back but it’s how you go forward from here that matters.”

Evelyn nodded, and with that she climbed in the car and shut the door. Fliss watched them drive off before she turned and headed back towards the apartment. “You ok?” Frank asked, turning to look over the back of the sofa as she walked into the living area.

“Yeah, fine.” Fliss smiled. “Mary in bed?”

“She’s reading” Frank nodded “Told her you’d pop in and say goodnight.” Fliss yawned as she slid her arms round his shoulders from behind “I’ll go now, then I think I’ll get in bed myself. I’m whacked.” Frank smiled and turned his head to give her a kiss “I’m just gonna finish watching this and then I’ll be with you.” “What is it?” Fliss asked, turning her attention to the TV.

“A documentary on whales, funnily enough. You’d enjoy it…” “You’re such an old man” she teased and he scoffed.

“Not what you were saying last night.”

Fliss laughed “Well you keep yourself in good shape, what can I say.” With that she kissed his cheek and headed down the hall.

After bidding goodnight to Mary and Thor, who seemed very happy to remain in Mary’s room with Fred, she changed for bed and slipped into the sheets, stretching out before she got herself comfortable. She was dozing, drifting in and out of a light sleep when she felt Frank climb into bed behind her, wrapping his arms around her, pulling her to his chest.

“Finish whale watching?” she asked as he dropped a kiss to her shoulder.

“Yeah.” he said gently. “So you gonna tell me what my mother wanted?” “Nothing much…” Fliss turned in his arms so she was facing him. “She was actually quite contrite.”

“Course she was…” “No, I mean it, I think she’s genuinely sorry.” Her hand gently traced shapes on his bicep “Maybe you should give her a chance to apologise properly.”

“That must have been one hell of a talk.” Frank snorted “You were all for dumping salad on her head before!”

“We had a very honest discussion, I got a few things off my chest.” Fliss shrugged “And, well, like it or not she’s still your mum Frank.” “No, she’s my mother.” he corrected her “Your mom is a mom.”

“Was your dad a dad or a father?” “He was a dad.” Frank said, “Most definitely.”

“Do you remember much about him?” she asked.

“Little bits.” Frank’s hand tucked her hair behind her ear. “Mostly about stuff we did. Baseball, football, when he taught me how to ride a bike. All the fun stuff you do with kids really.” he took a deep breath.

“What did he do?” “He was a Surgeon” Frank said “Neurology.” “Really?” Fliss looked up at Frank as he nodded “Well that’s pretty cool!”

“Yeah.” Frank nodded “I wanted to be just like him when I was a kid. I sometimes wonder if I idolise him a bit more because he’s dead you know but…” “Have you ever asked your mother what he was like? You know, since he died?” “Once or twice.” Frank replied “For all of Evelyn’s faults she did love Dad. She gave up her own career and research partnership she had with Cambridge in London to move to Boston when she met him. Then they had me. I think she resented me a little bit at first because me and dad were so close, and then when Diane came along that was it, Daddy’s girl...”

“No longer his main woman.” Fliss smiled.

“Something like that. You know, I do wonder at times why on Earth she had us.” Frank snorted “if we were such inconveniences…” “It can’t all have been bad.” “Well we wanted for nothing. In fact, we were both very spoilt. And yeah, we had Birthday parties, fun, vacations, trips…but when dad died…I dunno, it kinda went to rat-shit.” “It must have been hard for Evelyn you know, losing him when you were both so young.”

“Yeah.” Frank sighed “I’ve no doubt it was. I remember the police coming round and breaking the news about the accident…only time I’ve ever seen her break down.”

“You know before, she said that you remind her of your dad.” Fliss looked at him.

“Yeah she’s told me the same, last time I saw her in fact. Probably why she doesn’t particularly enjoy being around me that much.” “I think she enjoys it a lot more than she lets on.” Fliss shrugged “And besides, I enjoy being around you. And so do my parents…so…”

Frank gave her a soft smile before she leaned up and gave him a kiss. “I know…” he said, as she snuggled into his chest “And that’s all I care about.” ******

Friday rolled around and with it came Fliss’ birthday. Frank was pretty sure Mary was more excited than Fliss to give her the gifts they had bought, and with good reason. Fliss beamed as she opened her various packages from them both, which included a bottle of her favourite perfume, a pale blue and white striped sleeveless button down which Frank had thought was quite nautical so very apt and a box of British chocolate. Bonnie had also stopped round the night before to give her a bottle of her favourite gin and a huge bag of sweets which she declared she was hiding from Frank as she didn’t trust him not to eat them.

Frank then handed her the envelope with her main present in and she opened it, her mouth dropping open as she looked at the Broadway Tickets.

“Lion King?” she said, looking up at him. “We’re going to see the Lion King?” He nodded, smiling “I know you wanted to go so…” “Oh my God…thank you!” she practically squealed throwing her arms round his neck, kissing his cheek.

“You’re welcome.” he smiled, winking at Mary over his shoulder. She gave him the thumbs up. Fliss turned back to look at the pile of presents arranged on the coffee table before Mary handed her another smaller wrapped one.

“This is from me…and Fred…and Thor.” she added and Fliss smiled, unwrapping the small black box. She opened it, and a small card fell out which she picked up and read out loud.

“We hope you enjoy your “Precious Paws” hand-made resin beads…” she trailed off, and glanced down at the charms in more detail. One was green speckled with gold and the other was blue speckled with silver.

“The green one has some of Heidi’s tail hair in it…” Mary pointed as Fliss gently took it from the box to examine it in more detail, clearly seeing where the hair was wound through the resin of the bead “And the Blue one has Thor’s in.”

“I…” Fliss felt herself choke up “Mary these are beautiful, where did you…” “Joanne told me about them.” Mary said, and Frank smiled at her “And then Frank helped me order them…” “They’re not officially Pandora but the woman said when we emailed her they’d fit the standard bracelet.” He said as she turned her head to look at him, her eyes shining.

“Thank you both, so much…” she turned to Mary and wrapped her up in a hug before she did the same to Frank, giving him a soft kiss “Love you.” “Happy birthday Sweetheart.” he smiled, hugging her again.

As Fliss had booked the day off, so had Frank so the three of them along with Thor and Fred spent the afternoon after visiting Fliss’ mum and dad on one of the boats belonging to Paul, the owner of the shop Frank worked in. Frank had deliberately chosen one of the smaller ones so they could access the small stretch of sand just off St Pete’s beach that they all loved. It was quieter than the main beach as it wasn’t reachable unless you waded or sailed over and they spent the afternoon on the beach with a few beers and a picnic, before they headed home. Mary crashed out on the way back, her head lolling on Fliss’s lap as she sat at the front of the boat, her bare feet resting on the bar in front of her, simply watching the dolphins. Thor was barking at them like mad, wagging his tail and then suddenly he shot to the bow of the boat, placing both his paws up on the metal, threatening to throw himself overboard. Frank’s hand shot out to grab his collar.

“Dumbass…” he yanked him back, and turned to Fliss “Does this mutt have a brain in his head?”

“Don’t’ talk about my baby like that…” she narrowed her eyes at Frank as she covered Thor’s ears with her hands as he sat by her feet, tail thumping on the floor. “Fred does his share of stupid shit too, like getting his head stuck in cereal boxes.”

Frank rolled his eyes “At least Fred knows not to jump in the ocean.”

“That’s because he has no sense of adventure.” Fliss shot back, causing Frank to snort. Standing up, Fliss gently moved Mary, so that she was led flat down before she stretched and moved next to Frank who tossed his arm over her shoulder.

“Had a good day?” he asked and she grinned, nodding.

“The best.” she smiled “I love it when you bring me out sailing.” “I’m driving.” he turned to face her, grinning. “You’re sailing.”

“Whatever” he mumbled as his lips pressed to hers. She snaked her arms around his neck as his slid round her back, pulling her closer to him as he kissed her deeply his tongue sliding against hers.

“You can unwrap your last present when we get home…” he said, grinning like a school boy as he rest his forehead head against hers.

“Yeah?” she asked, arching an eyebrow

“I’d let you unwrap it now but…” he nodded to Mary and she snorted.

“You know we’ve not actually done that.” she mused. “Sex on a boat I mean…” Frank let out a laugh “You harbouring a bit of a sailing kink?” “More of a sailor kink” she shot back and he shook his head, giving her another quick kiss before he turned his attention back to the boat as he guided it back into the Marina.

He made good on his promise once they got back, loved on his girl. Once in the shower and then again later on when he woke up as Fliss had done the same to use the bathroom. Frank knew he would never get tired of hearing the soft cries of his names and the various encouragements she gave him when she begged him not to stop or told him how good he was making her feel. As he tumbled right over that edge, behind her 3rd, or was it 4th orgasm, he’d lost count, his fingers tightened slightly on her hips as his head tipped back in ecstasy. He lay still, panting as she collapsed onto his chest, his hands stroking up and down her spine as she lifted her head, grinning as she caught his lips in a soft kiss before falling down onto the mattress next to him. She looked at him, her eyes flashing in the soft light that was sneaking into the room through the crack in the curtains, a look of pure love on her face, as if he had hung the moon and the stars in the sky, and it was enough to choke him up slightly. He still wasn’t sure he was worthy of her unadulterated adoration, but damned it, he’d try constantly to be the best version of himself if it kept her by his side.

He didn’t wake the next morning when Fliss’ alarm went off. Instead he woke to a gentle kiss to his cheek and as he roused himself the smell of freshly brewed coffee hit his senses. Blinking he smiled softly as Fliss placed a mug on his night stand.

“What time is it?” Frank asked.

“Just gone seven. I’ve got an early appointment with the Ariat rep at the stables, remember?” “Oh, yeah…” he yawned, rubbing his eyes.

“You told me to wake you before I left.”

“Yeah, I don’t know why I did that…” he moaned and she chuckled.

“You gonna bring Mary up later?”

“Yeah, I’ll leave he with you for the afternoon if that’s ok? Need to clean the boat and get it back.” “Course it is.” she smiled. With that she bent over to kiss him again and in a shot Frank’s arms were round her waist and she was flat on her back on the bed, laughing as he caged her with his arms.

“Frank…” she whined, as he kissed her softly “I can’t, I’m gonna be late as it is…” “One more kiss, come one…” he pleaded, and she relented as he pressed his lips to hers before she eventually pulled away and shoved on his chest. With a pout he moved allowing her to stand and she shook her head at him.

“You’ll be the death of me Frank Adler.” she said, straightening her top and he eyed her figure up as she did so and gave a shrug.

“What a way to go…” he smirked and with that she reached down, grabbed one of the various scatter cushions that lived on the bed during the day, and smacked him straight on the face with it.

He and Mary shared a lazy morning before they both dressed and headed out going via the bakery at the end of the high street to pick up a coffee and some Danishes for a late breakfast for Fliss as he knew she’d have left without eating any, she always did when she was out earlier than them. As he pulled up, Mary was out of the truck before he had stopped, something which he was fed up of telling her off for.

Frank walked into Fliss’ office where he placed the bag of food on the desk, along with the cardboard carrier which contained their coffee and gave her cheek a kiss. Mary shot into the tack room, grabbed her little box of brushes and shot off to go and see Monty.

“Bye then…” he said sarcastically, and she completely ignored him. He snorted, shaking his head as Fliss laughed.

“Busy morning?” he asked and Fliss nodded.

“I’ll say.” she nodded to the bag “Saturday’s always are…aww, you bring me breakfast?”

“If 11 am counts as breakfast” he snorted and Fliss laughed as she continued sifting through the pile of envelopes on her desk. There was one that contained a few clearly hand delivered cards, he could tell by the shape and the fact they had no post marks, and then another small pile that had arrived in the post. “Bill, bill…oh…” She stopped at a bigger envelope. “A card?”

Frank shrugged. She turned it over, ripped open the envelope and pulled out a white card with simple block writing on the front in multi-colours. With a frown she opened it and scanned the greeting, before her eyes grew wide and she threw it down onto the desk.

“Lissy?” Frank frowned, and he looked at her as she shook her head, taking a deep breath, before she swallowed and turned to face him. “Honey, what is it?” “It’s…” she swallowed, her eyes wide “That card…it’s…it’s from John.”

Frank’s face grew harsh as he grabbed the card and read the greeting. It was 3 words long. 3 simple words, but even he knew from what she’d told him about the name John used to call her, that it was from him. Happy Birthday Sugar. “Fucker.” Frank growled, tossing the card back onto the desk as Fliss turned to him and he wrapped her in his arms, letting her simply press her face into his chest. He rubbed his hand gently up and down her back as her breathing evened out and she stepped back. “You ok?” “Yeah…” she said, “Do me a favour and get rid of it.” “Don’t you wanna call the police?” he frowned.

“They’re not going to do anything about a card.” she shook her head

“He’s broken his parole…” “And they can’t prove its him.” she sighed “They’re not gonna DNA test or whatever on that…” “Fliss…”

“No, Frank…just…” she shook her head. “Please, do what I ask and rip it up, burn it, whatever, I just…get rid of it”

“Ok, ok…” he appeased and she nodded, before she looked to the doorway and hastily her face rearranged into a smile.

“Hi Steph!” she greeted. Frank turned to see a dark haired woman dressed in riding gear, Fliss’ next client. “DJ is ready, get Jo to get you on and I’ll be out in a moment.” The woman smiled and headed off down the yard. Fliss looked at Frank.

“I didn’t think about the fact this place was so easy to find.” she shook her head “The webpage…” Frank sighed, it was something if truth be told he hadn’t considered either “Look, the worst he can do is send you shit.” he said, almost trying to convince himself as well “He can’t set foot out of Mass…he’s clearly doing this to try and upset you so…” “Well he can fuck off and die.” Fliss said venomously, “Ass hole…a fucking birthday card? He’s clearly losing his touch.” With that she gave his cheek a peck and grabbed a Danish out of the bag before she picked up her coffee. “This lesson is only half an hour so as soon as I’m done Mary can ride Monty and then she can do her jobs and stuff. You go and clear the boat from yesterday or whatever it is you were planning on doing and I’ll give you a call later ok?”

“Sure.” he nodded.

“Love you.” she smiled at him, before she left the room.

Frank watched her go before he looked at the card. She’d asked him to get rid of it…but something was telling him not to. He pondered it for a moment before he tucked the offending item back into the envelope and then curled it up so it would fit in his back pocket, before he headed out to the jeep, pulling his phone free as he walked.

“S’up Man?” Greg greeted him as he opened his truck door threw the envelope onto the passenger seat.

“I need some advice.” Frank spoke quietly, glancing over to where Fliss was now stood in the middle of the paddock, the women on the large grey horse was walking around her in a circle. “Can we meet?”

**** Chapter 19

#riding high #frank adler #frank adler x ofc #frank adler x original female character #gifted #gifted fan fic

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hongism · 3 years

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Hyello, okay so. I don't have the emotional energy to take in and discuss everything in that chapter so imma just gush over the info cause I am a ✨whore✨ for world building.

So obviously MOC SPOILER

hi bestie HELLO guess WHO!!! finally ANSWering!!! altho im gonna answer separately and space everything out all Neatly bc im all over the place so strap IN we’re going on an moc RIDE!

THERE'S A WHOLE SIREN COMMUNITY?! AND YN AND IT MUST BE WOOYOUNG WERE FRIENDS? SIRENS HAVE A FULLY FLEDGE COMMUNITY WITH PRIESTS AND SCHOOLS AND MULTUOLE CITIES TO SOME EXTEND??? MAYBE EVEN AN ENTIRE PLANET WITH SIRENS MAYBE THEIR ORIGIN PLANET? HOW MANY TYPES OF SIRENS ARE THERE AND IN THE COMMUNITY HOW DTRICT ARE THE DIFFERENT ROLES?!?! ALSO DOES THE SIREN COMMUNITY ALLOW FOR DIFFERENT TYPES OF SIRENS TO BE TOGETHER? OBVIOUSLY THEY SHOULD BUT ARE THE CHILDREN THEN HYBRID TYPES, LIKE WHEN WE GET BLUED DARK SKIND BABIES OR CAN A SKREN ONLY BE ONE TYPE. WHAT POWERS DO SIRENS HAVE AND DOES THE POWERS REFLECT THEIR PERSONALITY AND DO THE DIFFERENT TYOES LEAN TOWARDS CERTAIN JOBS. LIKE WE JUST LESRNED THE OCEAN GOTTA BE PRIESTS BUT MOON ISNT STRICT WHAT ABOUT FIRE. AND IS YN INSTIC TO PULL OUT A HEART CAUDE HER PERSONALITT, TRSUMA OR IS IT RELATED TO THE MOON. ALSO CAUSE ITS A RED MOON WHICH IS COMMONLY A BLOOD MOON, IS YN THEN A SPECIAL MOON SIREN AND THATS WHY HER POWERS ARE STEONGER OR HER INSTICTS TO USE THEM ARE STORNGER BUT THEN THE MILITARY FUCKED HER UP. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

now this is the thing im biting my tongue on SO HARD bc it’s my favorite aspect of the world building and the universe and everything involved in it bUTIHDFKJG THERS SO MUCH I WANNA SAYYYYYYYYYY in short that one dream sequence holds more hints and information than ANYTHING from previous chapters, i think that it’s probably the MOST IMPORTANT dream to date. while we’ve seen some crazy ones in the past, this one is both the biggest hint and the biggest window into y/n’s past by FARRRR. even tho that whole scene was dialogue i think there’s so much to pick up on from it and so much to see and learn from it and it’s one of my faves bc there’s so much to unpack from it !!

Like yes the story and the development is freaking ✨yes✨ I love it. Genuinely think moc should be released as books. But I just cannot deal with the emotions rn.

But also now all I'm going to be thinking about how many sirens are actually out there. And if yn knew her parents and wasn't just an orphan the military found in the streets... How the fuck did she end up in the military grasps. What happened to her parents what happened to the community, is it still out there? Guess I gotta go back and reread the galaxies and the backstories, obviously I must have missed or have forgotten something. Ugh how the puzzle pieces are puzzling (or something). Moc is a drug and I'm not going sober anytime soon

(obviously you don't have to respond to my questions, this is more just an insight into the spiralling of theories going on in my mind)

releasing moc as books? a dream and a half, i can say that much slkjdlgkjlkf but back to the sirens... how many are out there? we heard early on that hongjoong was looking for ‘the last five’ but then seonghwa debunked that and said that was a mistranslation over time that was passed down and such, but beyond that, we don’t really know much about sirens as a whole? there are some hints in the galaxies and planet descriptions but if that dream sequence is a puzzle, i would say we have a handful of pieces that can be put into place based on what we’ve learned so far!!!!

Okay I lied, I am ready to unpack a little of the ✨emotions✨

When hongjoong explained that hwa tried to stop San only for San to detain him and in a sense make him watch the scene unfold. And then realising hwa had to go through that again, only being even more helpless. I don't doubt hwa loves San, but to see the events happening again, with someone he clearly loves as much as he does yn even if he also loves joong, and to see the desperation and determination must have been just. Horrible. Just absolutely soul breaking horrible. I can imagine him vowing to himself after San that he would never let something like that happen again. That of any of the crew got out of control like that, that he would fight harder to stop them. That he would would do absolutely everything in his power to stop it. And then being helpless as he watched yn do it. Just pure heart wrenching pain. And it must have been beyond terrifying to see someone you love ready and determined to kill themselves partly from rage and partly from desperation. With the backstory, that scene becomes almost as cruel as the warehouse scene with San. The only redeeming quality is no one needing life saving surgery in a time crunch, otherwise they would be the same level of ✨never again✨

honestly i think the two crew members i torture the most are san and hwa bc i just keep putting them thru all this shit and hurting them so much but really this was the defining point of why seonghwa was so afraid. before we kinda just knew he was afraid of yn and hongjoong was mad about it. in this revelation we get to see the source of the trauma and how it was amplified by it being someone he loves as dearly as he loves yn. and for sure when first reading that scene of yn and jisung in the brig, it’s meant to evoke a sense of anger and rage like yn is so angry to a point where she would do this sort of thing, but my hope with that scene was also to show that desperation. that when looking back at it after having already seen the rage and the aftermath, that reading it again shows how desperate and hopeless she was in that moment. which is exactly the same emotion that was evoked back in that warehouse scene with san, except it was relayed differently because the warehouse was a more immediate sense of desperation. this brig scene was meant to emulate that but in a slow burn kinda way where the veil of realization is pulled off after the fact and not in the moment!!!

Just to make sure you don't misunderstand. Those asks were compliments. You are an absolutely incredible writer. And the fact that you aren’t afraid of hurting your characters *cough cough* SHOOTING SAN?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!??!?!?!!!?!?!?!?!??!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!? *CLEARS THROAT AGRESSIVELY* just makes the story much better. No one gets plot armour, making it more realistic (?) and really draws in the writer and sorta imitates the fear and desperation the characters feel

PLS don’t worry, i live for every moment and i live for these open and raw and genuine conversations i didn’t take any as an insult i PROMISE!! i think part of the nature of this whole trope of space pirates and criminals is that hter is no guarantee of safety! i don’t wanna have to cut corners to make sure everyone stays unharmed and undamaged throughout the story when the nature of the world i’ve built thus far is a wildly dangerous one!!! i always say that i try to be as realistic as i can, all things considered, and i think that’s the biggest thing that adds to the ‘realism’ in my mind so im so happy to hear that you see it and appreciate it and enjoy it!!!

OHOHOHOHOHOH ALSO

YN GRIPPING SOMEONES HEART??? YOU WRITE THAT SO FUCKING WELL. LIKE ENIGUH DETAILS THAT WE KNOW WHATS GOING ON, BUT ALSO NOT SO MANY DETAILS SO IT GETS DETACHWD FROM THE STORY. LIKE THE LACK OF CLEAR SUPER MANY DETAILS REALLY MADE IT THAT *YOU ARE EXPERIENCING THIS, NOT JUST READING IT* LIKE IT MADE IT WAY MORE EMOTIONAL AND OERSONAL AND THE READER REALLY GOT IMMERSED IN THE MOST HORRIBLE WAY THAT KUST MADE IT ALL RHE MORE BETTER. ALSO JOONG AFRAID????? JOONG REALISING HE GOT A FULLY FLEDGED HEART RIPPER SIREN WHO CANT CONTROL HER BODY TO MOVE THROUGH A HARMLESS DOOR BUT CAN DEFINITELY KILL IN A HEARTBEAT (OR TWO 👀) ALSO THE CONTRAST OF REMOVING RHE BLOOD COLOURED WHITE OLASTIC AND HAVING A CLEAN HAND UNDERNWATH. THE SYMBOL OF IT ALSO BEKNG A TRASH CLEANERS SUIT. LIKE SHE WASN'T SUPPOSED TO ACTUALLY USE THE TRASH PROTECTION DUIT FOR ITS INTENDED PURPOSE. ALSO THE OART WHERE SHE SAYS SHES FINE EVEN TJO SHE ISNT. AT FIRST I READ IT AS HER TELLING HERSELF TO LIE BUT THEN I REALISED ITS HER ADMITTING SHE VERY MUCH ISNT. AND SAN NOT KNOWING???? AND KISSING HER HAND AND UGH AND SEONGHWA KNOWING. I BET HE'S LOWKEY GETTING MORE AND MORE AFRAID OF HER. LIKE YN IS READY TO KILL HERSELF AND ANYONE AROUND HER TO KEEP SAN SAFE. AND SHE INSTICTUALLY GOES FOR THE MODT AGRESSIVE METHOD POSSIBLE. IHHHHHHHHHHHHH I FUCKING LOVE YOU AND YOUR WONDERFUL WTITING AND YOUR TWISTED MIND THAT CAN CREATE ALL THESE FUCKING SCENES THAT GOT ME THUNKING AND FEELING ✨EMOTIONS✨

truly one of the HIGHLIGHTS of the chapter simply bc of how shocking and sudden it is!! for me, that was one of the easiest scenes to write in the chapter, oddly enough? it was something that when it came time to write it, i knew how i wanted it to be and was able to just sit down and write it out the way its written in the final draft of the chapter. i really love playing with those aspects of fiction and storytelling. tangible to a point, without spelling it out. i think it’s obvious that i really love delayed realization in writing, but i really like playing with how the brain processes information and for me personally, i don’t pick up on things right away! i can realize them in a snap or it can take me a bit to go ‘oh god that’s what happened’, and i like playing with that in y/n’s character a LOT.

and in that same vein of thought, there are some layers to that scene as well when compared to the door scene. in the door scene we saw hongjoong clearly tell y/n ‘you need to do this to save san’ yet she wasn’t able to do it despite trying and believing hongjoong. then in the heart scene we saw y/n clearly tell herself ‘you need to do this to save san’ and she did it then. so there’s a lot at play in that parallel alone too. and with that internal monologue she has of im fine vs not fine, then san kissing the hand that touched a literal real actual beating heart for me that was a sort of self indulgent scene and i was really worried about it coming across as too cheesy or something like that, but that is something that’s gonna impact y/n as a character and her relationship with san when they have the conversation of ‘oh hey i put my hand through a man’s chest for you’

i think part of why this chapter was so difficult to construct and write as a whole definitely is because of all the undertones and nuances throughout, and in a lot of ways it’s so so much to even think about that it’s almost too much packed into one chapter alone, but even if you don’t pick up on all the nuances throughout, i’m hoping to revisit them and bring them back around in that delayed realization style again bc that’s one of my favorite things to do ofc :3

#21y redeemed fool #mists of celeste #moc: spoilers #caly answers #sorry i wrote you a whole essay in response oh my god?!??#T_T

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miastideclock · 4 years

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Day6 At Their Weddings

parksungjinsfan

Hey 👋 I have request about day6 on your wedding day, like their reaction to seeing the reader in wedding dress, how will theu be yhe whole wedding, what music will they choose for a first dance, honeymoon details and such... Thank you🙏

Word Count: 👁 👄 👁 I don’t even wanna try and find out lmaooo Warnings: -The length of these are quite different, and I am so sorry about that -I tried my best to avoid the mention of the reader’s parents or family, but if I have incorporated any family or extended family without noticing, I am really sorry and do ask you to let me know so I can correct my mistake. Thank you.

my years of watching ‘Say Yes To The Dress’ finally pays off

this is gonna be a rIDE, i dont know if this is the format you wanted it in, but this is what you’re getting lmao my bad.

Sungjin

some of the songs i listened to while writing -Circles by Golden -No One Like You by Dualties -Spaces by One Direction

OKAY, so

Wedding Dress:

For the wedding dress I pictured something elegant, yet relaxed. It’s very simple, but the lace detailing adds that little something I feel like. The sweetheart neckline is flattering no matter what your body type is, as is the bodice.

You can pair almost anything to this dress, so jewelry could be a pop of color, or you could keep it more lowkey with some dainty pieces.

Sungjin would appreciate the simplicity of the dress, that way it let’s your own beauty be the center of attention.

Location:

I feel like a garden-wedding is bulls-eye for someone like Sungjin. It’s sophisticated, but with a childish-charm. The trees and fairy lights are a perfect combination. I don’t really have a lot other than that to say about the location in particular.

Music:

Your first dance would be so cute. I chose Your Song by Elton John, just because I feel like it adds to the sophistication of it all. It’s a classic song, that way it will be easier for your guest to enjoy the moment you two share, with you.

I can imagine Sungjin practicing months prior, so that the dance would be perfect when the day finally is here. awh my heart

Honeymoon:

Hawaii, USA. Again, it’s classy, it’s sophisticated, it’s very on brand. You can relax all day, eat pineapple and other fresh fruits, go on excursions and explore. Hawaii is a place of many opportunities, so I can guarantee you and your newly-wed won’t go bored.

The Wedding Day:

Sungjin paced around the room, thinking about every single thing that could go wrong. He was nervous beyond belief, but he would never let anyone know that.

He had to admit that in the beginning of the planning process, he always laughed at the men who were nervous, cause what was there to be nervous about? You were marrying a woman you love, there is no simpler task.

But now he got it. Every feeling you could think of washed over him at the same time, but none of them stopped him from wanting to go through with it.

In the chaos that washed through his head, there was one thought that stood out before the others. “I love her.” A knock could be heard on his dressing-room door, his best-mean peeking his head through.

“They’re ready for you.” Dowoon spoke softly, not wanting to startle the groom. Sungjin nodded before looking at himself in the mirror. He had to look perfect for you. Dowoon made his way over and stood in front of him, so Sungjin no longer could see himself in the body-length mirror.

“Nervous?” He asked as he fixed the collar of the groom.

“Yes.” Sungjin finally admitted.

“Getting cold feet?” Dowoon asked yet again, the slightest hint of panic in his voice.

“Never in a million years.” Sungjin replied.

Dowoon let out a breath of relief and took a step back to see if there was anything else on the suit that needed to be fixed or moved or tucked. But as he found nothing, he nodded his head, meaning Sungjin should head out the door and into the garden.

Walking down the aisle with his mum was something Sungjin never completely realized would be happening until she was standing there waiting for him. She was dressed in a peach-colored dress. She was after all one of your bridesmaids, so she wore the appropriate dress.

He kissed her cheek before looping his arm with hers, then making their way down towards the pastor. The walk felt long, longer than it needed, because that just meant more time for his head to get even more chaotic and messy. But contrary to what Sungjin was sure would never happen- they made it to the end.

He stood on his side, his hands folded into each other as he waited.

The music changed ever so slightly, meaning the bride was on her way. Sungjin turned so he was looking directly at the door where you would come through, waiting excitedly.

A few seconds passed, and the double doors opened, revealing you. Every messy thought, or chaotic state his brain had ever had vanished. Sungjin could finally think clearly, all because of you.

You held your bouquet tight in your hands as you walked down the aisle. Your heartbeat picked up as you closed your husband to be.

You finally made it to the end, and to be honest? You don’t remember 80 percent of the ceremony. The only part you truly and clearly remember were the two most important words you and Sungjin would ever share.

“I do.”

jesus christ

Jae

some songs i listened to while writing -California by Bernhoft -Twit by Hwasa -Somebody To Love by Abhi The Nomad

AIT

Wedding Dress:

Jae is.. well- he is Jae. And even with a gun to my head, I could not know why I feel like this is the perfect dress for his wedding- I just do. A sheath dress with lace detailing is elegant and sleek, yet light and airy.

With the clean neckline, a dainty necklace would be enough, a small pair of earrings to go with it.

Jae would love the dress on you, but you could also wear a trash-bag if you so pleasebecauseue he is convinced you could pull off anything.

Location:

The fun and the beauty of a beach wedding would go perfectly with Jae’s personality. The ocean air is a lovely detail for a wedding, it brushing against your cheek as you look at the love of your life, the last time he would be your fiancé, in a few moments- he would be your husband.

Music:

For your first dance I’ve chosen You by Petit Biscuit. It’s a soothing song, with a vibe that could calm down the angriest of men.

The song takes you back to the memories of when you first met Jae, as he was the one who introduced you to the song. The lack of lyrics mean nothing to you, as you have made your own meaning of it.

Honeymoon:

As a man of many countries, Jae has been all over the world- so when you planned your honeymoon, he told you not to worry about if he has been there before or not. With that in mind, you booked your trip to Paris, France.

Going for walks along the Seine, admiring the Eiffel Tower at sunset, or experiencing the magnificent art at the Louvre- all things you and Jae are planning on doing.

The Wedding Day:

Standing a few hundred feet away from where the ceremony would be held stood one singular groom. His eyes were closed as he was standing with his hands in his pockets, feeling the gentle ocean breeze brush against him, like a thousand warm kisses peppered all over him.

This was the most calm he had been in months, and he felt like he could finally relax his tense stance. Whatever happened from now on, it happened- and there was nothing he could do about it. He thought that would only make him more stressed, but there was just something about it that calmed him.

“You lost?” Sungjin suddenly spoke from Jae’s right hand side. Sungjin happened to be Jae’s best-man, so it was, among other things, his duty to make sure the groom was okay

“No, I’m pretty sure this is exactly where I’m meant to be. Sounds cheesy though.” Jae replied with a chuckle, causing Sungjin to let out a snicker of his own.

“You ready to do this?” Sungjin asked again after a few minutes, this finally opening Jae’s eyes. Jae nodded and they started walking back.

The sun would be setting in an hour or so, so the heat was just perfect on the stunning summer evening. You and Jae had been planning this wedding for what seemed like an eternity, and you were both over the moon that the day was finally here.

You were in a beach hut just by the place of the ceremony, looking at yourself in the mirror, inspecting your makeup.

“You look stunning, dear.” Jae’s mother said from behind you, she also looking at your makeup.

“Absolutely breathtaking.” A bridesmaid chimed in. You gave them both a smile and then got to your feet, shaking out your hands in a nervous manner.

“You ready?” Your maid of honor asked you as she came into the hut from outside where the wedding would be. You looked at her for a second before nodding slowly. “Good, cause Jae just walked down the aisle, you’re up baby!”

You gave her a look, but couldn’t keep a smile from joining the scolding eyes. “A little late with the heads up maybe?” You chuckled as you grabbed the bouquet from the table, making her laugh.

The doors opened and you made your way over to the aisle, taking a deep breath as the ceremony properly started.

You found yourself walking faster than you had during the rehearsal, but you didn’t care. You wanted to reach Jae as fast as you could, because the faster you got there, the faster you could start the rest of your lives together.

holyyy

Young K

some songs i listened to while writing -17 by Pink Sweat$ -All Night Long by Machine Gun Kelly -Needs by Verzache

okay so

Wedding Dress:

For our main man Brian, I chose something bohemian-chic. It’s fun, it’s light, it’s stunning. The rustic vibe of the dress is something i think would fit perfectly with the theme of the wedding.

The whimsical essence of the dress makes it kind of hard to pair with jewelry. I can imagine some small raw diamond earrings, and maybe a single thread necklace with a light pendant. Anything too heavy will easily drown out the dress and make it seem almost messy. Not very cute.

Location:

Tall trees. The warmth of the wood mixed with the soft touch of lights and georgette fabrics laced in between the branches. The forest is the perfect place for such a wedding.

The birds chirping, and the trees talking- what could be more romantic?

Music:

Dancing on a patio in the forest, moving to the smooth rhythms of Your Hand In Mine by Explosions In The Sky. This song is awfully slow at first, but as it picks up after a few seconds, you can’t imagine anything other than twirling around in Brian’s arms, as if you were the only people in an empty forest, ready to be with one another until the end of time.

Honeymoon:

Perfectly matching the rustic theme of the wedding, your destination sends you to Rome, Italy. Whether it’s making a wish in the Trevi fountain or renting a vespa to go to the closest Gelato shop- Rome won’t let you down.

With a stunning view no matter where you look, it’s a perfect place for a honeymoon and to take hundreds of pictures of the trip you’ll remember forever.

The Wedding Day:

Taking a deep breath, Brian stepped out of the car that took him to where the wedding would be held. Jae, his best man, stepped out with him, hyping him up- but Brian’s mind was too occupied to hear a word of what he was saying.

“- and I just know that if you want to back out, I know she would understand.” Was all Brian needed to snap out of it.

“Back out? What are you talking about?” He questioned as he stopped in his tracks.

“You’ve been spaced out all day, and the face of pure panic isn’t exactly helping your case.” Jae pointed out. Brian caught himself frowning during multiple points during the day, so he could kind of make out where Jae was coming from, and he felt happy that Jae would let him back out of he wanted- but that was not the case.

“Have you lost your mind? I love her more than I can even begin to explain. Even with a gun to my head, I would never dream of backing out of our wedding.” Brian spoke in a cool and calm voice, making sure that Jae understood the value of his words.

Jae gave him a nod. “I hear you, loud and clear.”

From there, they made their way down the patio-ed trail into the woods where their wedding would be held, lights decorating the trees surrounding them. It was straight out of a fairytale.

Brian had to admit that he was scared about the wedding, but not because he didn’t love you- cause he did. More than anything. It was because he was scared he wouldn’t be enough for you.

You on the other hand was sat in a car on your way to the location, stressing out your brains.

“What if I trip? Or what if I say the wrong name? I know that only happens to assholes in 90′s sitcoms, but-” Your rambling was cut off as your maid of honor called your name from next to you.

“Babe, you need to calm down! You’re not gonna trip, and you’re not gonna pull a Ross, okay? You’re gonna get there and wow everyone with your dress and your hair and your everything- and then you’re gonna marry the love of your life and start your forever okay?” She snapped you out of it.

You took a deep breath and nodded. You had gotten this far without any complications- so you only had one small step left, and that was to start your forever.

“Okay, let’s do this.”

OKAY

Wonpil

some songs I listened to while writing -Wish You Were Sober by Conan Gray -My Strange Addiction by Billie Eilish -Can I Call You Back? by SHY Martin

Wedding Dress:

It’s big, it’s sexy but with elegance and class, it’s flattering to anyone- it’s perfect. A Princess-style wedding dress is such a gorgeous choice, no one would be surprised if Wonpil absolutely lost his breath looking at you.

A dress like this is so beautifully simple, you can’t go wrong with some jewelry. Personally, I would avoid a chunky necklace, and rather opt for some longer, dangling earrings, letting your bare neck and collarbones make a statement of its own.

Location:

Matching the personality of the dress, a Ballroom Wedding is elegant, it’s classy, and it’s so much easier to clean up than any of the other locations we’ve seen today.

A ballroom might seem boring to some, but it’s surprising what you and your husband-to-be can do with a bursting budget and a wild imagination.

Music:

For your first dance, I Will Follow You by Toulouse will be playing. An emotional song, perfectly conveying your emotions for one another, to your guests.

“Ever since you touched my hand, I knew.” The song sings. And it’s true. Both you and your husband can confirm that the first time you ever brushed your hand against his, there was a spark. Actually, more than that- it was fireworks.

Honeymoon:

With jungles, temples and waterfalls, Bali, Indonesia is the perfect destination to explore, have fun and also relax with the love of your life.

Renting a private tour guide one day, and just hiking to waterfalls and jumping into the water another day. Watching the sunset while being in each others arms, not being able to imagine a more perfect moment than that.

The Wedding Day:

“What do I do? The wedding starts in like forty minutes, and I have zero clues as what to say for my vows. I mean, of course I vow to love her until I take my last breath- but I want it to be special.” Wonpil stressed out loud. Maybe it was to his best man, maybe it was to the wall behind him- none of them could answer.

“Okay, your hair is as perfect as it can get.” Brian spoke as he tweaked the pieces that fell over Wonpil’s forehead. Wonpil shot him an unamused look making Brian chuckle. “I’m just messing with you. You look great.”

Wonpil turned around to the full-body mirror and inspected that there were no pieces of dust on his suit, or scratches on his shoes. He sighed and nodded, agreeing with Brian’s statement, cause truth be told- he did look great.

“I can’t stop thinking about what she is gonna look like. And not only in the wedding dress. How she is gonna look sleeping on the plane to Bali, or how she is gonna look laughing at dinner- or how she is gonna look when we give our toasts. I can’t wait to look at her and be with her forever.” He sighed, grabbing the edges of his jacket and straightening it out even more, something Brian was pretty sure was impossible.

“Why don’t you just say that?” The best man commented. Wonpil looked at him for a second as if he was hesitant, but soon came to realize it was actually a pretty good idea.

“Yeah, you’re right. It’s simple but special, and it’s right from the heart.” He smiled, thanking Brian.

In the dressing-room across the hall, a particular bride was pacing back and forth, her bare feet making small noises as the underside of her foot made contact with the hardwood floor.

“I know I’m breathing, but it feels like I can’t breathe.” You muttered out, one of your bridesmaids jumping to her feet to get you something to drink. She picked up her light pink bridesmaid-dress and ran for the kitchenette and roamed the fridge until she found a bottle of water. After tossing it to you, and you taking a sip- you thanked her.

“Okay, I found it!” Your maid of honor suddenly burst through the door, making everyone in there turn to her and let out a sigh of relief.

The it in question had been your bouquet, it being a collection of both your own and your husband-to-be’s favorite flowers. That was the reason it was so special- you had made it together.

“Oh thank god!” You exhaled and walked to meet her at the door. You gently grabbed the bouquet out of her hand and looked at it in adoration.

“Does that mean you’re ready to get married?” She asked in a hushed tone. You looked at her, then the flowers, then back up at her before you let out an excited sigh and nodded.

“Let’s do this.”

Dowoon

some songs i listened to while writing -Heels by NoMBe -1901 - triple j Like A Version by Petit Biscuit -Drift Away by Sons Of Zion

Wedding Dress:

A-Line Wedding Dress, a sleek yet flowy choice for a rustic wedding such as your own. The soft silhouette and backless detail is a glorious mixture of sweet and sexy, coming together to make a stunning dress that is the perfect match for most anyone.

The detailing in the lace is more than enough accent, but if you insist, avoid long, dragging necklaces and earrings. With the tone of the dress, dainty, rose-gold jewelry would be the best match.

Location:

A big, glorious venue for anyone with the wish of a fairytale wedding. A Castle is perfect for feeling like a Disney-princess on your big day. The candles and lights mixed with the aesthetic of exposed brick is enough to make the perfect wedding pictures- but why stop there?

Most castles has a garden of sorts, often lined with large trees and fresh grass, making any wedding photo look like its dragged straight out of a movie.

Music:

Your first dance will be one people would have to wait long to forget. Moving to the tunes of Happiest Year by Jaymes Young, holding your now husband close- an unforgettable feeling. You chose this song both because the melody is stunning, but also because the lyrics truly do speak to you. After being engaged for a year, both of you could confirm that it had in fact been the happiest year of your lives.

Honeymoon:

The Maldives. You might think it’s kind of cliché to go there for your honeymoon because it’s overused - right? Well, I can promise you, it’s for a reason.

Whale shark tours, local markets, beach days, snorkeling safaris- the fun is close to endless. Whether you go there for the activities, or it’s for the views- there is no way you’ll be let down.

The Wedding Day:

Standing in one of the towers of the castle, stood a single groom, looking out one of the massive windows. The reception was getting closer and closer, and the chairs down on the lawn was getting filled up with more and more of your friends and family by the second.

“DOWOON!” The familiar voice of Wonpil called. The sudden noise didn’t even make Dowoon flinch as he had been expecting it ever since he got to his little hiding spot. The groom looked to the side to see Wonpil marching at him at a terrifying speed. “Why the hell are you not in your dressing-room? The wedding is about to start any minute now!”

Dowoon had to snicker at Wonpil’s panicked state. You’d think he was the one getting married, truth be told. “Don’t worry, I was on my way there now.” Dowoon spoke calmly.

One would think that on his wedding day, Dowoon would be a bit more freaked out- but he wasn’t. He had never been more calm, cool and collected in his entire life, and to him that meant something. It meant that even on essentially the most stressful day of his life, he was grounded, all because of you.

You too had the same train of thought. Walking around in the flower garden on the other side of the castle, you hummed gently to yourself. You were on your way back to the dressing-rooms as the massive watch on the side of the left tower told you the wedding was soon to begin. Without a care in the world, your bare feet made their way through the soft grass, making you smile as it tickled your feet.

As you got closer to the back entrance of the castle, then one you had exited through, the better you could see the figure leaning against the door. It was your maid of honor. She stood in a stunning dress, her arms lazily crossed over her chest, giving you a smile as she waited for you. “You enjoying yourself?” She asked as you got closer.

“Yeah.” You breathed and stopped a few meters in front of her so you were still in the grass.

“Nervous?” She asked again. You needed a moment to think about this one. Cause on one hand, of course you were nervous- but on the other, just the thought Dowoon made your shoulders relax and your jaw unclench, as you always found yourself in a relaxed state around him.

“Maybe. I’m not sure yet.” You smiled as you spoke in the same way you had earlier. Your maid of honor chuckled at your words, then reaching out her hand for you to grab, leading you back to your dressing room to get your shoes back on, then getting you ready to walk down the aisle.

i really hope you liked it!! I’m so sorry it took so long- I wanted to do it just right! Feel free to request again!

-bentley

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smol-and-grumpy · 4 years

Text

Something Just Like This - CH22

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester, mobster boss. He’s a little cocky, a lot ruthless and more often than not, short tempered. But he’s also, Dean Winchester, a war veteran and hero who suffers under a shit ton of PTS. He met her in a bar and thinks it’s fate that brought her to him. Little does he know why she’s really here.

Warnings: NSFW

WC: 5110

SERIES MASTERLIST

Dean drops her off at his apartment, carries all her bags up with her and helps her by cleaning out half of his closet space so she can put her things in there.

It baffles her that he’s willing to do it all so easily, as if there’s really nothing else he’d rather do. He unselfishly bends and twists his life around to be able to fit her into it.

She does not deserve this.

“I’ll meet with the others to talk about what happened. Will you be okay?”

“Yeah.” She says because she will.

“Take your time. I’ll be back before you know it.” He says, and steals a kiss before he leaves. A kiss that lingers a fraction too long but at the same time not long enough.

It didn’t take her long to stow away her belongings. All the contents in her safe stayed at her apartment. She’ll tell Linda to send someone to pick it up once things are settled. It’s not like she needs it anyway, haven’t even looked at the files for days. She didn’t need to, because she got to know more of Dean than all the files packed with his information can ever reveal about him.

Oh god, she’s got to tell Linda what happened. Got to tell her the truth with Dean and she’s scared of that, if she’s honest.

She showered and is in bed when Dean’s back. He undresses and picks out a fresh pair of underwear from his closet, slips into the shower wordlessly. And she’s thankful for that, thankful that he knows when to talk and when not to.

He comes out with his hair and body still damp, smells of fresh mint and body wash. Picks her up and pulls her into him. She lays her head on his chest, drapes an arm over his body, hooks her leg over his thigh.

“How are you feeling?” He whispers and she can hear the rumble in his chest, next to his heartbeat.

“Tired,” She says, and it’s true. Exhausted even.

“I’ll talk to Ellen tomorrow.” He whispers, as if he’s reading her mind again.

Because she thinks that she’s out of job which maybe might mean that Linda will order her to go back to where she was before. Make her abort the whole operation, since it might be enough to have Meg still working at Crowley’s club. “Do you want me to come with you?”

He breathes out, “No, I’ll probably won’t even tell her the truth. Don’t want you there when I’m lying.”

“You wanna lie about the death of her daughter?”

He kisses her forehead, lets his lips linger there. “Sometimes, it’s better to not tell people the truth because it’ll hurt them far too much. I know it’s selfish and another level of cowardice but I’m protecting myself and most of all, I’m protecting you.”

She doesn’t say anything to that. Feels her own guilt choking her, it’s gets harder to breathe.

“Can I ask you something?” She says instead.

“Anything.”

“Don’t be mad at Gabriel, please.” She starts and Dean’s already letting out a groan.

“What did he tell you?”

“Well,” she paints figure eights on his chest with her finger. “He said that you’re looking for a way to get out of this life, is it true?”

“No,” He says, and adds, “I’m not looking for a way. I have found a way, it just needs to go as planned so I can set everyone up with enough money to last because if I’m out, I want all of my people to get out too. What we’re doing? That’s no way to live.”

“Set everyone up with money?”

“Yeah, enough for them to last a lifetime and longer probably.”

“And you? What about you?” She tilts her head to look up at him.

“I still have my properties,” He shrugs, “Looking to get something smaller anyway, something simpler, somewhere remote.”

“Dean Winchester wants a simple quiet life?”

He chuckles at that, “Yeah, it’s more my thing.” Then he adds, “And you? What do you want?”

“I haven’t thought about it yet.” She says, feels that weird thing in her throat that makes it harder for her to breathe. Guilt — it must be guilt.

“Can you imagine a simple, quiet life? Alone somewhere, no neighbors to bother you? Walk around the house naked all the time? Get up when you want, eat when you want… Just do things because you want to and not because someone expects it of you?”

“That’s a great life.” She wholeheartedly agrees.

“Would you think I’m a creep when I say that when I picture that life, that you’re in it?”

She can feel his heart beating faster after he asks the question.

“Would you really want me in it?”

He chuckles, kisses the top of her head. “Baby, you’re the reason I even dare to think about a life like that. The reason why I’m doing what I’m doing and making extra sure that everything will work out.”

***

“Did someone follow you?” Linda asks as she sits down on the bench in the dog park.

“Not that I know of,”

“Why the emergency meeting? Couldn’t you have used your phone?”

She sighs and fidgets with her fingers while she looks down. “You remember the snitch I told you about? The double agent?”

“Yeah?”

“It was Jo. Well, and another guy named Adam but yeah, they’re both dead now.” She starts and Linda listens.

Y/N begins to tell Linda about her and Dean, leaves out some details of course because Linda doesn’t need to know every little thing but the big picture, that one she tells Linda.

“You know that you have to come back.” Linda says, her voice stern.

“What if I don’t want to?”

“It’s either our side or his, Y/N, there’s no in between. Make a wise choice, Y/N. Don’t you think you owe us and your father that much?”

“You can’t possibly use my father against me, Linda!” Y/N hisses but she also knows that Linda’s right.

Linda breathes in and exhales audibly. “Okay, listen, I love you like a daughter, and you know that. You were always the daughter I never could have and your happiness is important to me. It pains me to see that you’re not happy so the only thing I can give you is this…”

Y/N goes home with the deal. It’s something she can accept, and it kind of lifts the cloud that was hanging over her heart. At least she’s still got to have it until then. Got to have time with Dean, and she’s going to make the best of it.

She’s drawing a portrait on the sofa when Dean comes back.

“Honey, I’m home.” He calls out as soon as he steps in, probably means it as a joke. It does sound quite good in her ear, though.

He braces his elbow on the sofa and leans over the edge, kisses her temple and looks at her drawing. “Is that me?”

Her cheeks are warm all of a sudden, kind of afraid of what he thinks of it. Wondering if he thinks she’s creepy by drawing him.

“Uh-huh,”

Dean tilts his head, looks at her and with the light, his freckles are visible. She loves them. His eyes too, they are so green. And then he smiles, creases deepening around his eyes. “You’re drawing me?”

“I also draw Cuddles, you’re nothing special, calm down.” She says, a playful tone in her voice.

“No,” He looks at the portrait again. “I love it.”

Dean walks around the sofa, comes to sit down next to her. He plays with the hem of her shirt while he watches her draw.

After a while, she has to giggle. “You’re distracting me.”

“That’s the plan.” He smirks, and as soon as she drops the pencil, he pulls her towards him by her shirt, there’s a sound of fabric ripping.

“Dean!”

“I'll buy you a new shirt.” He just says it like it’s no big deal and manhandles her onto his lap.

It’s like the first time she was here, the time when he got her off by letting her grind on him. She thinks back to the times they’ve been intimate, thinks that it has always been about her. It was never about him. And somehow, she wants to be able to satisfy him too.

She cups his face between her palms, their noses touch, his scruff scratching away underneath the palms of her hands. “Hi,”

“Hi,” He whispers back, and cranes his neck, sucks in her bottom lip before he lets go, only to dive in again.

His hands are firm on her ass, guiding her movement as their kisses grow heavier and hungrier.

Y/N breaks the kiss, leans back a little to see him better. She lets her thumbs trail along his face, his eyebrow, touches the creases around his eyes. “How did it go with Ellen?”

He sighs, and closes his eyes for a brief moment before he looks at her again, his hand comes up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, this finger traces along her neck, over her shoulder. “I’ll tell you later. I don’t wanna talk about it now. The important thing is that you’re okay. Are you okay?”

“I am.” She says, smiling a little to reassure him and he smiles back, pulls her into him by the nape of her neck, kisses her sweet, soft and deep.

She can’t help but grind into him, rolls her hips and searches for that friction and she’s shamelessly wet.

“Christ,” Dean breathes out, “You turn me on so much, you know that, right?” He pulls her in, kisses her throat, licks a line up to the shell of her ear.

There’s a smile on her face, it’s cocky and she leans in, kisses his throat, her hands sneaking into his suit jacket, pulls them off and he sits up a little, helping her to get it off.

She slowly unbuttons his shirt, one by one, and kisses the skin he reveals with each button that is missing.

Y/N kisses his scars, his freckles. Her tongue toys with his nipple to which Dean groans out. She smiles, sucks it in some more and he almost has to pull her away because he’s too sensitive, his fingers already tugging at her hair.

Climbing down his body, she kisses a trail, likes the crease his stomach makes when he’s sitting. Loves the trail of hair past his navel. Dean spreads his legs wider, so she can kneel on the floor in between. She looks up at him, her hands working on his belt buckle.

Dean has his lip between his teeth one of his hands on hers to stop her, “Baby, you don’t have to.” He says, his voice soft and low.

She looks at him, a smile tugging away at her lips. “I know that I don’t have to, I want to.”

He breathes out, maybe to calm himself down but he lets his hands fall down to his sides. His gaze still lingers on her.

Y/N’s hands are a little shaky as she loses his belt, needs more than four tries to open up the button and the hook on his dress pants before she can bring down his zipper.

His hands stroke the side of her face while she works on it, his patience obviously knows no bounds while she almost dies of anticipation.

Finally, she hooks her hands in his underwear, brings it down together with his pants and Dean helps her, lifts his ass a little so she can pull it down. She pulls at them, takes them off his legs one by one before she throws it behind her. She takes off his socks next and stands up, taking off her own socks, her jeans and top, but leaves her bra and panties on before sitting back down.

She swallows hard and Dean’s doing the same. Her hands are resting on his knees and she strokes his thighs. Her eyes are fixed on his at first but then she let it travel down his body, until they’re set on his cock.

Taking her hand, she places it on his shaft, tugs his cock lightly towards her. It feels warm, is hard and heavy in her grip, and Dean bites down on his lips so hard she thinks he might draw blood if she doesn’t stop soon.

Y/N cups his balls with one hand, let them roll around in her palm while she places a kiss on the tip of his dick, chaste, soft.

“Baby,” Dean’s voice sounds broken. She doesn’t know if that’s a warning.

She smiles, sticks her tongue out and lets it circle around the head that is leaking by now. She holds his shaft firm in her hand and smacks the head of it against her awaiting tongue a couple of times, making him close his eyes and groan. She doesn’t know if it’s a frustrating groan but his face makes her chuckle.

“You’re killing me,” He drawls, his voice is dark, deep.

Accumulating enough spit in her mouth, she lets her saliva drip onto the slit at the tip and proceeds to massage the slick down onto his shaft. She’s smiling when he moans, and then she opens her mouth to suck it in, taking him in further with every movement of her head.

“Jesus,” He bites his lips harder, his hand brushing at the hair that falls around her face.

She goes as far as she can — which is not really far since she hasn’t done this a lot and her gag reflex is very much existent — and strokes the part of him that she can’t fit into her mouth.

When she pops his dick out of her mouth to take a breath, she says, “Tell me how you like it.”

He rolls his eyes and his hand balls to fist next to his thighs. “Fucking Christ, sweetheart, any way you want it is fine for me. I’m already having a hard time trying not to lose myself at the moment. I like it very much the way it is.”

“Am I doing good?” She asks, and it might be a weird question but it’s just… she doesn’t know if it’s good? She sucked dick before, yes but also it wasn’t that many times and she never enjoyed it like he enjoys it now — enjoys him.

“You’re perfect.” He says, stroking her cheeks with one hand.

She smiles at that, takes him into her mouth again, sucks him deep and wet, makes it extra slick because she once read in a magazine that guys like that.

“Look at me,” He chokes out, brushing at her hair, holds it back behind her head with both of his hands, watching her, and she does, her eyes looking straight at him as best as she can.

“That’s it. Just like that.” Dean whispers, and she can’t lie that it turns her on when he talks like that. She never knew that she had a praise kink but apparently, she does. Loves it so much that she’s soaking wet just by hearing him say things like that.

“You’re looking so good with my cock in your mouth, baby.” He’s breathing hard by now, and then he adds, “Would you think it'd be creepy if I took a picture?”

She pulls his dick out of her mouth with a lewd pop, almost chokes because she has to laugh at his words. “I swear I’m never gonna talk to you again if you do.”

“Yeah, I don’t want th—” He couldn’t finish his sentence because she sucks and swallows him down. “Fucking Chri—” He exhales and inhales, wheezing a little. “Baby, I’m so fucking close.”

Y/N pops his cock out, starts to stroke him, twists her wet hand around the head of his dick. She looks at him, a playful smile on her face. “I want you to come in my mouth.” Not waiting for a reaction, she takes him in her mouth again, bobbing her head and watches him lose himself.

“Jesus Christ Y/N!” Dean groans, his hips twitches as her mouth fills with his warm cum.

Before he even collects himself, he grips at her arms with both his hands, pulls her up and manhandles her into his lap, kissing her roughly, not even caring that her mouth tastes like himself.

He parts then, his chest heaving. “God dammit, you can’t say shit like that and expect me to still be able to have control over myself.” He growls, pecks her nose and her cheeks. “You alright? How are you feeling?”

“Good,” She says and then again with a smile, “Great.”

Dean grins at that. “Good, I have an idea.”

He pushes her off his lap, makes her yelp up and fall down onto the sofa with a laugh. He’s halfway over to his bedroom when he turns around, soft dick hanging between his legs and she doesn’t know why but she thinks he looks funny, next to still looking ridiculously good and that is indeed not fucking fair. “Get rid of your bra and panties. I’ll be back.”

She raises an eyebrow at that, but proceeds to take them off, bunches them up and throws them onto the pile of clothes already lying on the floor.

He comes back only a minute later, with two towels in hand and a smile so bright she could confuse him with the Joker.

“Dean, no!” She has a strong feeling she knows what he’s about to do.

He chuckles, as he comes to the couch, “Dean, yes! Now get your super cute ass off the couch so I can spread the towels on it.”

She rolls her eyes but stands up because if she won’t, he’ll make her, she knows that.

“Hop back on.” He says when he’s finished.

And she looks at him. “How do you want me?”

“God dammit, baby, don’t say things like that, it triggers all the right buttons.” He spanks her ass, pushes her onto the sofa. “Lie down, on your back.”

“Like this?” Her head is short below the armrest of the sofa.

Dean climbs over her, bends down to kiss her, “Just like that,” His one hand rubs at her clit, “Jesus, you’re soaked.”

He works his way down her throat, sucks and nibbles along her skin until he reaches her nipple. He teeths at them, making her arch her back.

His fingers are teasing around the rim of her hole. “What do you want?” He says, tickles her nipple with the tip of his tongue. “Tell me,”

“Your fingers,” She’s clearly out of breath, chest moving up and down, heart racing so fucking fast.

Dean sits up on his heels, his fingers painting along her lips and spreading them, “You’ll get them. But I need to do this first.” He doesn’t wait for her to ask what he’s talking about, instead he’s lying down on his stomach, his shoulders wedged between her thighs, and lick and sucks at her, hums with pleasure like she’s the best fucking thing he’s ever eaten.

His hands strokes up her body while he’s nibbling at her clit, fingers twisting her nipples and kneading her tits. She’s almost ashamed that she’s close already, he barely touched her but she’s falling apart. She comes hard, her legs pushing together, trapping his head between her thighs, making him tap his hands at her bottom to release him.

“Sorry,” She says, her cheeks red. “It just happened.”

“Thought I’d die down there for a minute,” He looks up, one hand stroking her thighs up and down before he rubs at her clit, slapping lightly down on it, making her yelp up but it’s more pleasure than pain. “Would have been a great death, though.”

He climbs up her body, places little kisses on her stomach, up to her chin, seals his lips around hers, pushes his tongue into her mouth. She tastes herself on him.

Dean breaks the kiss, whispers to her while he looks her in the eye, “Tell me again what you want,”

She can feel his dick on her thighs, it’s hard again. From just eating her out! It fills her chest with some kind of weird pride. She kisses him as one of his hand wedges between them, the pad of his fingers toying at the rim of her cunt. She whispers, his bottom lip between her teeth, “I want your fi—” He pushes into her in that moment, making her choke on her own words. “F—”

He chuckles against her lips and sits back up, works his fingers in and out of her and presses the heel of his hands against her clit. “Fuck, you’re so wet, can you hear that?” He curves his fingers, places the hand that’s not in her onto her stomach, right above where his fingers dig into her wall from the inside.

It makes a sloshing sound down there and she’s embarrassed at how wet she can get.

“Can I go harder?” He asks and waits for her reply.

“Uh-huh,”

She can’t push out a coherent word if she tries.

He goes in harder, breathing heavily while he does it. She can see his biceps flexing, veins standing out.

“Oh my god,” She breathes out and clasps a hand over her mouth.

Dean’s quick to take the hand and pushes it out of her face. “Don’t even think about covering your mouth again, we’re alone, you can be as loud as you want. I want you to, okay?”

Y/N nods.

The pressure builds and builds and she’s a blink away from coming. Dean’s free hand roams her body, kneading her flesh. They go up past her chest, until he holds her down by her throat. “You ever been choked, baby?”

“Nu-huh,”

“Nu-huh? Can I try? A little? I think you’ll like it.”

“Uh-huh,” Honestly, it’s embarrassing that she can’t even form real words. But also he could ask anything right about now and the answer would be yes.

“God, so perfect,” He says while he claws a hand around her throat, pressing on it lightly. The pressure grows harder the harder he fucks her with his fingers. “Tap out if you want me to stop, alright?”

She nods, and grabs at the wrist of the hand that’s around her throat. Her whole body jerks and shakes and there’s the feeling that she has to pee again. “Fffffff!”

There it was, the feeling of taking a free fall, she’s gone, sees white and her body goes limp. The pressure on her throat’s gone and Dean nuzzles his nose against her cheek, “You’re fucking amazing,” He whispers, kissing her while he still rubs her lazily down there.

“Oh my god, I think I passed out.” She says when she’s back to her senses.

The towel below her ass is drenched in her wetness.

Dean pushes in three of his fingers, making her yelp up. They go in easily, she’s plenty wet down there. He chuckles a little, kisses her before he whispers, “Come on, another one, baby, can you do that?”

He starts to move his fingers and she can’t even say no because the sensation picks up right where she left off. It’s like she’s close on that top of the mountain again, by him just pushing his fingers into her. This is not fair at all. Not fair, that he can make her come so many times when she can only make him come once. But she can’t dwell on it because she’s so fucking close.

“Choke me,” She whispers, her mouth has run dry, the voice came out a little scratchy.

“What was that?” Dean asks, didn’t hear it because of the splashy sound that her pussy makes with his fingers inside.

“Choke me again.”

Dean grins at that, works his hands up her body, slaps onto her nipples in passing, making her arch her back and push her pussy against his fingers. He claws at her throat, presses down just enough to make her lose her mind. “My god, look at you,” His own voice is deep and soft.

He works his hand harder, scratching at that button on the inside, rubbing against the wall and she’s gone. Her legs cramp up, she’s literally shaking as she comes again.

But as soon as she comes down and Dean has pulled his fingers out of her, there’s the empty feeling again.

“Dean,” She says breathlessly.

“What is it?” He asks, kisses her sloppily and deep.

“I need,” The words come choking out of her in a sob. “I want,”

“Tell me, baby,”

She cradles his face, feels the pricking of his scruff against the palm of her hand, “I want you to fuck me,”

He lets out a huff of hot air, breathes in and kisses her while exhaling. “How do you want me,”

“Wanna ride you,” She says, and Dean complies, sits down and pulls her with him, making her straddle his lap.

Y/N lines his cock at her entrance, sits down a little more.

His hands are on her waist, helping her to sit down on his cock. “Breath, baby, don’t forget to breathe,” He says when he sees that she’s been tense.

She nods at him, and together they work him in, inch by glorious inch, until she’s able to take all of him.

Dean’s breathing hard, inhales and exhales loudly.

“You okay?” She asks, as she sits there motionless.

He breathes out again before he speaks, “Yeah. You just feel so fucking good.”

She smiles at that, “Do you want me to wait or—”

“—Christ’s sake, fucking move, baby, I’m dying here!”

Y/N giggles at that and starts to bounce on his cock.

Dean’s hands are on her ass, spanking and kneading at them. It kind of urges her to go a little faster. At one point, he throws his head back and squints his eyes close.

“What is it?” She’s almost out of breath.

“You feel so good, I’m already close.” He mumbles, picks his head up from the sofa and looks up at her. “Do you have another one in you? Can you come with me?”

“I don’t know,” She shakes her head, fact is, she doesn’t think that she can come a fourth time.

“Let’s try it,” He says and fucking winks. He clearly sees it as a challenge.

Both of his hands go around her throat, his hips fucking up to meet her mid motion. His hands aren’t pressing as hard as before but she still feels like the air doesn’t reach her lungs and before long, she feels a tingling sensation on the base of her spine as her toes start to curl.

“Dean, I—”

“I got you, baby,” He says, “Keep on riding, don’t stop, just don’t stop.”

“Fuuuuuu—,” She’s close to sobbing, she’s gonna come, it almost physically hurts.

“Just like that. You’re doing good, baby, so good. Such a good girl,”

“Ohgodohgodohgod,” She sobs out.

“Don’t stop, keep on going, keep on riding, you can do it, baby.” He encourages her and it works, the praise goes where it’s needed to help push her over the edge.

And then there it is, she’s coming with a throaty moan, her whole body relaxes and goes limp, held together by Dean’s hands around her throat.

“I got you,” He whispers, as he too, comes undone, shoots his load into her while he pulls her close and sinks his teeth into her shoulder.

They stay like that for a while, chest to chest, his arms around her, her hands lazily stroking the base of his neck. Their breathing is hard, their hearts beating fast.

“Wow,” She says and buries her face into the crook of his neck. They’re both sticky and sweaty but she enjoys it. Enjoys the smell of sweat and sex on him. She breathes in a little more.

“You’re wearing me out.” He whispers, making her chuckle lightly upon hearing it.

“How are you feeling? Everything okay?” He asks, his fingers lazily stroking her back, feels every bump of her spine.

“Yeah,” Y/N answers, and then sits up a little. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Making me come four times.”

He laughs at that and pulls her in for a kiss.

“Hold on,” He says and stands up, his hands supporting her around her waist and one hand on her ass.

“Where are we doing?”

“I was thinking about something involving you and me, a bathtub and a back rub.” He’s in the bathroom now, is kind of trying to turn on the faucet with her in his arm, shouts out Yahtzee when he succeeds and she’s laughing the prettiest of laughs he’s ever heard.

She’s sitting on the other end of the tub, holding out her foot and he massages her there, tickling her in between.

“How do you feel about going to a fundraiser?” He asks.

“I feel like I won’t like it.”

“What if I buy you a dress?”

She raises one eyebrow, “Do I have to?”

“Well, they actually know now that I have a girl and I have to bring someone?”

“You could go with someone who looks like me.”

Dean snorts out a laugh before he pulls her towards him, so that she’s sitting between his thighs. He hugs her from behind, drops his head on her shoulder. “Please?”

“Well, if you say please.” She tilts her head, kisses his temple. “When is it?”

“I think about a month's time, Crowley says he’s gonna send an invitation.”

“No, Crowley? Really?”

“Shush, he knows. He says that he thinks you were great with rejecting him.”

“You owe me.”

“Anything you want.”

When the water turns cold she turns around in his grip. “Do you have to be anywhere today?”

“No, I’m all yours.” He answers, and it’s true. He canceled every meeting just to be with her, knowing that she doesn’t have anywhere to go.

“Then, I think I know what we could do,” She’s grinning at him with that cocky smile.

Dean sighs, “Oh god, I hope it doesn’t involve sex. I’m too old and need more recuperation time.”

She laughs and kisses his nose, “Don’t worry old man, I was thinking that we could go eat out at Bobby’s?”

“How did I deserve you again?” He grins, and kisses her.

CH23

#something just like this #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean x you #dean winchester smut #dean winchester fan fiction #dean winchester fan fic #dean winchester series #mobster!dean #nathalie writes

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kitchenangst · 4 years

Text

Love in space? It’s more likely than you think.

Summary: (Bakugou Katsuki x gender neutral!reader) Fuck space, that shit ain’t easy. Also, listen to the Among Us menu music.

Warnings: swearing, mutual pining?, dialogue heavy, characters’ deaths (including yours), mild gore, maybe ooc Bakusquad and deku team, last names only, Among Us terms used ((listen, i only played on skeld LOL) and very bad writing in 2nd POV -- lmk if I need more any specific warnings!

Word Count: 4401

Prompts: “I don’t mind if it’s you” + Among Us!BNHA (no quirks)

a/n: hi!! it’s my first time writing for BNHA, second POV, head cannons, angst AND gore,,, No like, I kid you not when I say there’s mild gore . Anyway, this is for @fromthewatertribe ’s 1k event!!!! I hope you enjoyed it as much as I wrote it!! happy reading :))

Hey just because you’re on the botanical team does not mean you get to skip out on team workouts with the rest of the crew!! For a plant nerd, you sure love making everything in the gym a competition and Kirishima, Mina, Iida, Uraraka, and Deku very much live for it

(Bakugou says it’s stupid, but joins anyway. He says it’s because he likes to watch everyone’s despair when he wins first place again.

Kaminari surprisingly gets top 3, while Todoroki, Sero, and Tsuyu join just to humor you and maybe add more fire to the competition; they absolutely don’t care about winning but they love making the others struggle)

Anyway, you guys have been preparing for Mission Polus for a LONG time now, and the playful tension between the crews on Ships UA, ShKs (Shiketsu), and LoV (League of Villains) was only making you guys more fired up than usual in your workouts and preparation

UA, being the biggest team, was going to launch last--only because Kaminari confidently lost in rock, paper, scissors,,, but no biggie! That just meant when ShKs and LOV land, everything should be prepped for you guys when you arrive!

Except, you find out things don’t come out as planned when UA arrives at the second checkpoint

“I just got word that Ships ShKs and LoV’s crew is cut in half,” you start off grimly

“Hold on--like, the lower or upper half of their body?”

You decided against your better judgement about throwing the closest thing at Sero until Kaminari added in, “Left half? Or right half?”

Y’know what? Maybe you’ll just throw him out of the ship.

Apparently, it was initially thought to be some space flu

“If it’s that bad, then… Why are they still continuing the mission? Shouldn’t they handle it back at base?”

It’s probably the smartest question you’ve ever heard from Kaminari. “If it is some contagious space virus, they don’t want it to spread on Earth.”

“Whatever it is, it must be evolving fast. LoV is halfway to the 5th checkpoint, and ShKs is a quarter way to the 4th checkpoint. If they both received it around checkpoint 3 and they’re down to half their people… I just hope they’re quarantining.”

“Good thing you mention that, Deku. LoV and ShKs are changing course to go straight to Polus, and they’re going through the safety measures and cleaning procedures. Meanwhile, we’ll be skipping the 3rd and 4th checkpoints; we’ll pick up all the supplies and materials at the 5th checkpoint.

“If the other ships’ flu or whatever started around the 3rd checkpoint, we don’t want to be infected. We’re probably setting everything up ourselves when we get to Polus.”

Everyone is staring at you as they process this new information and you’d be surprised that Bakugou hasn’t said a word all meeting if it weren’t for the grave news this brought.

“Which means we’ll have to ration our food supply…” Uraraka is the first to break the silence, and you pass a guilty look as you see the realization fall on the rest

The meeting wouldn’t have ended well if it weren’t for Midoriya reassuring everyone that the growing fruit should last them (assuming it was being rationed as well).

By heading straight to the 5th checkpoint, you’d be saving a lot more time as well

Theoretically, things should have gone smooth sailing if Ship UA was changing course. And it would have if all the information was correct.

Uraraka found you frozen still near the corner of a bedroom when you didn’t return to the meeting. Having never seen you so shaken up before, all she could do was check whatever you were pointing at.

You watched with bated breath, hoping Uraraka wouldn’t have the same reaction as you, that this was all a bad dream, that this was a prank; because whatever it was, it wasn’t fucking funny considering that deaths on a ship were now a thing.

A month hasn’t even passed since the terrible news. Ship UA was nowhere near the third checkpoint; there’s no way anyone could have been infected

it was all you could repeatedly think to not spiral

You didn’t even notice when everyone else had arrive in the bedroom, only focusing on the screams and whispers and curses that continued to echo throughout the room and ring in your ear as everything suddenly turned dark; your hands instinctively grabbing onto whatever was around you

“Hey, it’s okay,” you heard, the familiar scent of pine not quite registering yet. “it’s alright, they’re taking care of it.”

You moved your head back to look at Bakugou, his face masking his fear well if it weren’t for the slight trembling in his hands holding you up. “‘It’?”

“The body. Mina’s body.” He took your hands still clutching onto the front of his suit, his gloved ones briefly squeezing yours to ground you. “C’mon, we’re discussing it in the meeting room.”

God, you felt your body run cold at the thought of Mina’s corpse being called it, but figured maybe you were looking a little too into details at the moment

You focused on your breathing as he dragged you to the meeting room, where no one knew what had gone wrong.

The only absurd detail was the hole that covered her palms, which left the rest of her body a sick, wrinkly grey.

Deku was worried if this was what the space flu was about and Iida suggested a 2 week quarantine where one person goes on deck at a scheduled time, while Uraraka was rubbing circles on your back despite being quite shaken herself.

“The only person who holds her hand is Kirishima”

“Whoa, whoa whoa--what does that have to do with-”

“Everything!” and now suddenly Kaminari thinks he’s a detective.

A space flu so dangerous that it could kill you overnight was less threatening compared to what kaminari was suggesting

“Not only that, you’re the only one who goes into her room at night!”

“TMI, but… that’s unusual, isn’t it? Kaminari makes a good point.” and it’s another thing to have Sero agreeing

“Are you suggesting we lock Kirishima in his room until he confesses his crime?” (What kind of fucking suggestion is that todoroki)

“No, I’m saying we just throw him off ship.”

Okay, now that fucking took you out of your shock...into a different shock… and it seems everyone had the same reaction at how serious Kaminari was.

“What the fuck are you suggesting, dunce face? We just lost a crewmate, and now you wanna toss someone out?”

“I’m being smart for once! What if Kirishima did that to Mina instead of some space slug?”

“First off, what about me suggests that I can even do something like that? To my girlfriend, no less! Do I have to repeat that there was a hole in her hand?”

Everyone waited for Kaminari’s response, to which he sighed and admitted that he was just thinking irrationally from this panic.

Iida and Bakugou agreed to install cameras in the hallway with a security room while everyone returned to fulfilling their duties

The mood on the ship went downhill from there with Mina’s passing on everyone’s mind. Especially yours and Kirishima’s.

Kirishima admitted that while he was hurt at Kaminari’s absurd suggestion, he still couldn’t hold it against him for panicking at the first death on the ship. Didn’t mean he had to talk to him though.

On the other hand, Bakugou often visited you in the plant room, the plant lab, just… you. Anywhere he could find you.

He told himself that he was just checking up on you, seeing if you were doing fine since Mina was one of the closest members to you

Maybe if he had known her death would cause such hurting to you, maybe he would have… no, he shakes his head and reminds himself it’s pointless to cry over spilled milk

You didn’t need to look to know he had brought you lunch; judging from the smell, he picked your favorite too

“You know we’re not supposed to eat in the plant room, right?”

“You know you’re not supposed to be skipping your stupid meal, right?”

“You know we’re supposed to be rationing our food, right?”

“Whatever, guess you don’t want my portion.”

Banter like this is what always made you break the rules to eat in peace with Bakugou the last few weeks, like how he pretended to seethe at your obnoxious munching

just the simple act of giving his portion to you was touching enough, and it made you relieved how he never touched on the topic of Mina’s death; only listening whenever you brought it up

You did, however, become concerned when he started giving you his full portion of lunch.

“No, I’m not hungry,” he’d say after you left him half his lunch, which, normally, you wouldn’t do! you always ate more than half!

He didn’t have an appetite, he’d insist. And he seemed uncomfortable talking about it, so you dropped the subject.

It didn’t stop you from guiltily eating his portions, though.

Motivation and optimism only went up when Uraraka and Tsuyu came out with decorations and stickers on their suits one day

(Sero had taped the tape roll to his head; Deku and Todoroki both carried a fake flower pot in their chest pocket;

Iida said his pen was decorative enough but put a car sticker on the side of his arm; Kirishima wore Mina’s bracelet on his ankle; and Kaminari took up bringing a toilet plunger with him everywhere.)

You brought up the cute headband with bear ears for Bakugou, and he gave you a paper crown he “spent 5 seconds making”

(it was just slightly bigger than your head, but it was in your favorite color)

Everything was fine, everyone was better, nothing bad has happened the past 2 months, and everything was going back to normal!

Until Tsuyu found blood in the drainage

(no one was on their period at the time either!!)

Bakugou stayed back with you in your restroom while everyone else prepped Sero’s body for discarding

He heard the heaving from his door, similar to the ones he had after his first meal. He recalls the stench of his being so awful, he could almost taste it bubbling at the back of his throat

So why did yours smell so sweet?

He continued rubbing and patting your back, the same way you had done for him awhile back. He kept telling himself it was because he didn’t want you to choke, but he knew it was to distract him from the smell

you slept in his arms the following few months when everyone agreed Sero’s death was done in cold blood, and no one knew who it was

The irony, he learned to love, was how you were the one who suggested the curfew, the placement of the cameras to be in the bedroom hallway and other places, and the idea that no one should go to each other’s rooms

yet you still wanted to be in his with him late into the night, to “take your mind off things” as you said, and you two would talk until the other fell asleep first

he loved that you broke your own rule to be with him

and he found it oddly comforting to feel the pressure of your head on his chest

and it was fascinating to him... that he could practically taste your fear when you had a nightmare, how you sought comfort in his arms first before anything else

he was probably enjoying it way more than he should when you trusted him this much to comfort you at night, to hold you, to not break you in more ways than one

his favorite part was having a routine with you

joining you in the lab at x o’clock to watch you take care of the plants, to make observations of you as you made yours on plants, hearing you talk about the progress of growing plants in space, kissing you-

wait, kissing you? that was new.

The forehead kisses when he left you to do his duties and before either of you fell asleep

the cheek kisses when he brought you lunch (you’re convinced that’s the payment for bringing you food)

the cute little peck you do on the corner of his mouth to stop him messing up the files in the lab

They were so tiny and often he hadn’t even noticed when they integrated themselves into this routine

it’s also why he wasn’t surprised when he leaned in to kiss you to stop your rambling

“there. as long as that’s there,” he gestured vaguely at whatever that was, “you aren’t going to die. not on my watch.”

“So that’s a thing now?” you raised an eyebrow in amusement

“What.”

“That.”

Oh don’t do that, don’t do that fucking grin of yours when you’re mocking his dismissive attitude

“Y’know. Seal of protection.”

He is not going to give in-

“You’ll do that when-”

God, who he is to resist when you’re practically asking him to shut you up

It’s been another few months since Sero’s death, and he had been cautious in taking advantage? of your emotional state? in taking a step further? --either way, he didn’t know what held him back in the first place and he wasn’t sure how to put it in words

He also didn’t know how to explain it to you that he couldn’t kiss you more than the simple peck anymore

not when he felt the sudden surge to take more of you and definitely not when his jaw was starting to hurt

And he didn’t know why he felt so relieved to have you be so understanding

Of course, everyone was still on their toes about a possible murderer on ship, but no one expected a sudden electrical outage

The nice thing about the lab was that it had a backup generator for lights, but it didn’t cover for the use of equipment

This wouldn’t normally be a problem, not when you still have months to go before reaching the 5th checkpoint, but you weren’t going to be a sitting duck waiting to look a plant cell

With a sigh, you began to make your way to electrical, hand sliding against the walls to make sure you wouldn’t trip over anyth-

honestly what the fuck, you swear you’re going to get Kaminari for leaving a puddle of water around with that plunger of his.

whatever, it’ll dry eventually. still a hazard though.

and honestly what the fuck, it’s been ten minutes and no one still hasn’t gotten the lights. the bystander effect is starting to make the crew lazy.

But no surprises here, only two people had gathered there, and stupidly, no one bothered to use a light to adjust the right switches.

When the lights got back on, Kirishima jumped at the sight of you.

“Relax, I just came here to fix the li-”

“No, not-”

“Why do you have blood on you?”

You turned to Deku, and fuck you haven’t seen him this scared since Mina and Sero’s passing

You’re about to ask what he means when you feel it

the crunch your gloves give, the stiffness of your suit, and you should’ve known the stickiness from your boots wasn’t from water

“What the-” it nearly sends you in a panic, to see your suit covered nearly everywhere-

“Whoa, hey, hey, stop!” Kirishima and Deku have to physically restrain you from trying to take your suit off with the way you’re digging at it

And it’s not too long before Kaminari and Bakugou come rushing in, panting from their sprint

There’s another four dead bodies.

And oh, oh, oh shit it looks so bad-

“It wasn’t Y/N.”

“And how are you so sure?”

“Just ask engine over here. We were watching security together, and there was still light coming from the lab. I only left when Y/N left, and there’s no way 4 fucking bodies could have been killed during that time.”

“Bakugou is, indeed, correct. The infrared cameras seem to have been shut down for some time now, so it’s hard to make out who was in the locations.”

Right, right. This was no fucking flu--you all confirmed that with Sero’s body.

It didn’t stop you from feeling sick to your stomach, though: seeing the scratches and marks on your 2 crew mates to the point of no recognition

even worse when you saw the same sickly grey skin on the other two with holes in their palms as well

Mina’s had happened over night... there was no way a slug or flu killed them within 10 minutes

Kaminari points out Deku’s locations before the lights went out

Iida vouches for Bakugou and you (Bakugou vouches for him, too, of course)

and Deku, Iida, and Bakugou vouch for you

....why couldn’t anyone vouch for Kaminari, Deku, or Kirishima?

Did it make sense for Deku to immediately leave the lab to fix lights?

Did it make sense for Kirishima to avenge Mina’s death?

You’re not even sure where to begin thinking of Kaminari-- like with his sudden claim of throwing Kirishima off the ship earlier on

Iida, with the grace of angels and levelheadedness of lions, suggested the best plan to find the killer.

A group of three, a pairing, and lone wolf

Of course everyone agreed.

it was no brainer that you and bakugou would stick together--you two were practically stuck at the hips

Kaminari was grouped with Deku and Kirishima while Iida volunteered to work on his own.

Everyone was tense: keeping distances away from each other, keeping tabs on the other...

whether there was one or two killers, it had to be within the group of 3, and you were bound to catch him at some point.

And while they stressed on who the murderer was, you and Bakugou... well, you felt a bit bad for enjoying the alone time you two got

“Hmm,” you drawled out one night.

Oh yeah, don’t think Bakugou didn’t know where this was going

But, oh, don’t think he’ll play along.

You pushed the pen and notepad away from his face when he ignored you and flopped onto his chest.

it was nearing curfew, and you still hadn’t gone back to sleep in your own room after all these months

(only Kaminari had the balls to call you out for leaving his bedroom early to sneak into yours, and honestly that’s good enough reason for you to suspect him)

“Hmmm...”

okay how dare Bakugou go back to writing on a tiny notepad the size of his ego

Even after you cover his eyes, he still continues to write on the notepad

“C’mon, you know I hate it when I have to ask”

Big mistake, you should’ve uncovered his eyes and attacked him with your own deathly cute look

He pauses his writing to jab the pen into the back of your head.

“Weren’t you the one who said consent was everything?”

“I also said it was very sexy of you to not swear.”

“What the fuck am I swearing on?”

He finally drops the pen and notebook to hold onto your back

He loved feeling your breathy laugh sweep over his skin, to feel your body come to life at something he said

and like all those months ago, he removes your loose hands from his eyes

(”They’re sweaty whenever you leave them there too long,” he once complained, yet he’s always the one holding onto you longer)

and this time you’re able to look into his eyes with clarity, to see all the smiles in the crinkles at the corner of his eyes, to see a spark light up in the reflection of you

and maybe bad experiences in space brought you closer than the misfortunes on earth did

“Kiss?”

Who is he to deny you one when you look at him so expectantly and full of love at the moment

“That’s the bye I’ll see you in two minutes kiss!” you cried when he kissed your forehead. “Neither of us are leaving anytime soon!”

“That’s the I got you lunch kiss...” from the cheek. You giggled stupidly when he kissed your nose. The stop being cute kiss.

“You’re alllllmost there”

“Almost where? You just asked for one kiss, and I gave you three.”

Seriously, he made it so easy, so easy to get mad at him and then you made it so very easy for him to tell you, you weren’t being specific

“Where’s the wittle shweal of pwotection?”

and it isn’t the first time you see him roll his eyes this hard

and yeah, that’s right, you’re going to make him do all the work now as you keep your face in place, your eyes closing in trust

the only way you knew he was leaning in was when you felt his lips brush yours with the most featherlight touch, making you smile instantly

“you don’t need it when I’m constantly with you though.”

and the bastard has the audacity to tease you like this!!! are you the only one pulling the weight in this dumb relationship? because you put all that shit into the kiss, including your feelings, frustration, worries, and you both press deeper when Bakugou reciprocates with the same enthusiasm

obviously you punch him when you see him with that dumb smirk after pulling back

“That’s what you get.” He shrugged. “You’re not going to die on my watch. Stop fucking worrying.”

You don’t laugh like you usually do, at how he throws in a swear when his voice becomes rough and soft and gentle at the same time

it’s how he knows you’re worried with the unchanging look on your face and yet your eyes continue to search for the answer in his

“What about you?”

“I’m not going to die.” when you don’t press further, he says, “We’re not going to die.”

“How’re you so sure?”

“Was the shweal of pwotection not enough?” He’s relieved when a grin breaks on your face.

“You’re right. We didn’t get this far without it, after all.”

It was so silly how a kiss started with a hopeful promise, had made you believe in Bakugou’s words

But it wasn’t enough

Kirishima had intercepted you two on the way to fix the communications room, panicking and barely able to get his words out

all you made out was “reactor” and “suit”; and the way he said Deku’s name made you latch onto Bakugou’s hand to run in that direction

You gripped his hand to the point of bruising, not even noticing you’d been digging your gloved fingers into your own palm

Honestly, you had no idea what was wrong, but the fact that Kirishima needed to leave the Kaminari with Deku to find someone, anyone, was already concerning

“What’s wrong with-” nothing prepared you for what you saw.

Kaminari looked up from his spot, surprise defensively taking over his face. “I know it looks bad-”

“Kaminari-” you gasped, taking a step back as he neared you like one would to an animal

“-because it is! Please, Midoriya just looked so vulnerable! How could you resist that?”

God how can he say that as if he was talking about a puppy

He laughed when you backed into a wall; laughed because the way your eyes expressed so much disgust at his admittance would be much more delightful at the big reveal; laughed because he wasn’t even close enough to harm you and yet you still looked so frightened of him

Laughed even more when you cringed upon seeing his gnarly set of teeth

Kaminari started licking the blood off his teeth and lips once he calmed down, and when he stared at you with the most predatory eyes, you nearly mistook the pounding rush of footsteps as the blood in your ears

“Bakugou!” Kaminari didn’t need to take his eyes off you to know it was him. “Did you tell Kirishima the news?”

You’re a little too relieved at having Bakugou here to comprehend Kaminari’s words.

“Back off, dunce face.”

"Where’s Kirishima?” you ask when you notice his absence

“He ran off. Or tried to.”

everything is too still for your liking

“Then the-the blood on your suit?”

“His body exploded.”

And fear washes over your body as you try to comprehend that Kirishima exploded?

Everything starts to blue as you try to piece everything.

No, no, no-

“That’s a terrible lie, even coming from you, Bakugou. Off your game?”

-it can’t be-

“It would’ve been cleaner if I weren’t in a rush to cover your ass.”

-you don’t have time-

“Feeling betrayed yet, Y/N? That your boyfriend-”

-there’s nowhere to run-

“Don’t fucking do it, dunce face.”

-what about Iida-

“I promise you, it won’t hurt one bit.”

And honestly, you’re wondering if the other ships had made it past this point.

Iida had heard Kirishima’s distressed panic before making it to the communications room, understanding he would go on his own to fix it

The Bystander Effect, as you once called it, made him believe you and Bakugou would handle Kirishima’s situation. He wouldn’t be of any help if the radio signal wasn’t up on time to solve this emergency!

He recalled Kirishima mentioned the reactor, and hastily made his way there once he finished fixing

Some noble class person would call the splatter of deep red across the floors and wall “art”, with how the bits of black and gray nearly bring it to life.

How ironic that it had cost a life.

He had to force himself to look away from the mess in the lower engine when he heard Bakugou’s almost feral growl.

“I don’t mind if it’s you.”

By the time he arrived, Iida found the reactor in the same mess as the lower engine.

He couldn’t help but think what an art critic would have to say about this, were it to be a painting.

Green liquid streaked the room with a pattern similar to the red

The same green dripping from Bakugou’s hands as he cradled what was left of your head

the same green that oozed out of Kaminari’s grayed body that was in equal parts unrecognizable

He wonders what the art critics would say about the four bodies surrounding the only one alive

a/n: wow u made it to the end huh,,,,,,,,thank you so much for reading!! I hope the music really set up the mood I was going for. Also, I didn’t want to spoil anything, but I read somewhere that it can be very triggering to write about the reader’s death esp if it was in 2nd pov!! Ik i said it’d be gory but I figured I could skim over it! anyway i love u nina this one was dedicated to all our among us plays

I dont think i conveyed it very well but bakugou was basically gonna eat u for dinner. But kaminari got to u first and bakugou figured u had to taste as good even tho kaminari already digested u, right?

#nina's 1k event #bakugou x reader #among us!au #bakugou katuski x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #j writes

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what-is-your-plan-today · 4 years

Text

Riding High Ch 18: Sugar

Chapter Summary: It’s July, and Fliss’ birthday…

Chapter Warnings: Bad Language words.!!!

Chapter Pairings: Frank Adler x OFC Fliss Gallagher

Also, I noticed yesterday that Tumblr seems to be swallowing huge chunks of my work on SSB…so I’m going to try and publish this in one, but if it doesn’t work I’ll split it over 2 parts.

Chapter Song: Shogun by George Ezra

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

“And we got two in the front, two in the back, sailing along and we don’t look back”

July 2018

“So now what?” Mary looked at Fliss as the two of them sat side by side at the table, both looking at the laptop in front of them.

“Ok, so see these spaces here…” Fliss said, pointing to 2 empty squares dotted in the unpublished Internet Page and then to the larger space at the top “Now we need to add the photos…”

“Yeah…ok so I want that one that has me, you and Monty in…you know the one that Frank likes where we are both laughing.” Fliss smiled “Ok, we can use that one.” “And then the other one is the one where Monty had the Party Hat on because it was his birthday.” “Good choice.” Fliss smiled “And what about the one across the top.” “The one of him in the pasture.” Mary said after a moment “Where he is looking up and pulling the funny face, you know with all his teeth out?”

Fliss grinned “Yeah, it looks like he is smiling.” Mary nodded eagerly “Yup.” “Ok…” Fliss said, and with a move of the mouse she set to work selecting the photos, ensuring that they were positioned and sized right for the frames. She couldn’t help but smile at the one of her and Mary. Mary was looking at the camera, laughing a lot whilst Fliss was, in turn, watching her and laughing too. Frank had been trying to take the photo of the 2 of them but Bill had been stood behind him, pulling stupid faces which had reduced Mary to tears, and her giggles had then set Fliss off. Frank said he adored the photo, that much in-fact it was now the screen-saver on his phone.

Fliss clicked save and then looked at Mary. “Wanna give it a final read over, check if you want to add anything else?”

Mary nodded.

“Ok, you do that I’m gonna start dinner.” “What are we having?” Mary looked at her.

“Carbonara. That ok?”

Mary grinned her approval as Fliss stood up, dropped a kiss to Mary’s head and walked into the kitchen.

It wasn’t long before Frank came home and greeted Mary before he headed into the kitchen area. He wrapped his arms round Fliss from behind, dropping a kiss to her neck.

“Good day?” he asked and she hmmed in agreement.

“Not bad…are you filthy, as usual?”

“Stop it.” he said, giving her a look, knowing full well what she was thinking. She shrugged and with a grin turned back to the food.

“Oh, erm, wanted to check…are you if we use photos of Mary for her blog on the website?” Fliss asked, turning back to him.

“Of course I am.” he said, frowning “Why wouldn’t I be?” “It’s a public sight.” Fliss shrugged “Just wanted to check that’s all.” “It’s fine.” Frank said, placing a kiss to her cheek “I think it’s a really good idea anyway, give her something to do and practice her writing. Like Bonnie said, she’s sharp on the numbers but could do with honing up her English a little bit. She’s too logical, this should give her something to be creative with and keep her occupied over the break.”