#Also Curt’s “we’re through” a little later on in the song works for this as well | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thecrowcern · 3 years

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CW: slight daddy kink, teasing, possessive!eren, weed usage, no condom, sex while under the influence, small aftercare

WC: 2,224

Cocoa Butter Thighs

(Title based off of a line in the song Butterflies by Samsa)

With the grace of Olympic dives

A perfect ten photo shutter finish on his cocoa butter thighs

Living with Eren was always a mixed bag of experiences. He walked around with little to nothing on, abs on display, and always ALWAYS a prominent bulge in his boxers. You wonder briefly if he’s packing but quickly push away those thoughts. He always had his loud friends over and the weed they smoke, without a doubt, would fill the apartment. You didn’t mind; you smoke a bit yourself, but at least you tried to be considerate. You busy around the kitchen, deciding that if all of them we’re gonna be over, might as well make food. Putting on smooth jazz as you work diligently, your ears perked up as you heard footsteps approaching.

“Hey Pops, ‘ave any more treats? Don’t worry, I’ll pay,”

Armin was one of the better friends that would come around, always helping when you cooked and always cleaned after Eren. He leans against the frame of the kitchen door, curiously looking over your shoulder. You stood in front of the stove, stirring the pot of gumbo you've worked on all day.

“Yeah, they’re in the cabinet above me,” You nod. He walks in behind you, placing a hand on your hip to remind you how close he is. As he reaches around for the treats, he also grabs some herbs for you. Then there's a slam of a door.

There stood Eren, green eyes ablaze with something...carnal, in them. Possessive? In his grip was some groceries you had asked him to get. Armin’s hand was still on your hip as he grabbed the rest of the items you wanted. He closed the cabinet before looking to Eren with a smile. “Hey! Was wondering how long it took to grab a few things,” Armin said with a smile. Eren could only stare at how close the two of you were. You leaned your head back on Armin’s chest with a small smile. “Same! What happened?”

Eren kept his eyes on you as he walked closer, dropping the groceries on the counter. “Longline.” His curt response made you roll your eyes. Armin gave a comforting pat to your hip before he backs up. “Aye, I’ll start rolling a few while Pops finishes dinner,” he said over his shoulder as he went to Eren’s room. You continued to stir your pot, the music mixed with the scents of dinner spiraled through the air. Eren sat back against the counter behind you, staring at the back of your head, almost as if he wanted to burn a hole through it. “Got somethin’ to say ‘Rin?” You questioned, refusing to look at him. Suddenly you feel a solid form against your back, two strong, large hands grip the counter and stovetop in front of you. His deep voice vibrated against your ear, “I don’t like people messin’ with what’s mine,”

You froze in place, trying to process what’s going on and if you were dreaming or not. Slowly you turn down the fire to the stove before you turn around, slowly looking him in the eye. Stormy jade stared back at you, filled with lust and radiating some deep primal need. You chuckled slightly, crossing your arms over your chest before smirking.

“You bein’ deadass right now. Since when am I anyone's? And when did you care if your friends flirt wit me?”

“Cause my names the only one that sounds pretty comin’ from those honey lips of yours.”

Your eyes blew wide, heat rising to your cheeks as you watched him lick his lips before leaning in to kiss you. You were able to slide under his arms, smiling as he turned to you with an eyebrow raised.

“Gotta be faster than that, Jaegar. Now keep stirrin’, don’t let it stick to the bottom and burn.” You say over your shoulder as you walk back to your room.

You feel his eyes on your hips as you turn the corner. You immediately booked it to your room before closing the door gently. You dove for your bed, squealing into your pillow before deciding on what you’re going to do next.

Later you emerged from your room, wearing a semi-see-through oversized shirt and some work out shorts. You heard the boys sitting in the living room and smirked. Perfect, you thought. Walking past them, you said;

“Hi boys!”

“Hey Pop...s” Their voices trailed off as they all looked up to greet you. Their eyes devoured how your shorts made your thighs bulge beneath them. Your brown nipples showed ever so slightly through your shirt, and Eren’s eyes went wild. As you made it into the kitchen, he followed behind, leaning down to whisper in your ear.

“The fuck you doin’?”

“Why you salty, bruh?” You could barely hold in your teasing smirk, looking up at him with big brown eyes. He grits his teeth, lip twitching as he hears someone else enter the kitchen.

“Aye, need help with dinner Pops?” Jean asks as he gently places a hand on your back.

“Why yes! Thank ya, honey lemon,” You said sweetly, patting his cheek. Eren and Jean share a quick staredown before Eren walks back to the couch. Jean’s hand would always inch towards your sides, squeezing your love handles slightly. He helped plate the food and the other guys filed in, wanting to get a plate of your food while also wanting to see how your shorts hugged your ass as you bent over.

You sway your hips as you make your plate, humming along with the music playing. The three men tried not to stare, -or drool- as your ponytail swung along with you, brushing ever so slightly against your ass. You take your plate and proceed to your room, before you can get there, however…

“Come smoke with us Pops!”

“Yea, you never smoke with us, you don’ love us no more?”

You showed faux-contemplation before shrugging your shoulders, “Sure, why not.”

Sitting between Jean and Armin, you ate happily, talking with the rest of the group. Some of them begin to file in and out. Mikasa and Sasha made side comments about Erens foul mood as they grabbed their plates. By the time everyone's taken leftovers and Armin had done the dishes, you’re stuck with the three of them. Eyes rimmed red and smoke swirling around the room with the soft bass of lo-fi music. You laid on top of Jean, back to chest as he lazily grazes his knuckles against your arm, your head against his shoulder as his lips press against your temple. Armin laid on your chest, inhaling your scent and gently rubbing your sides. You held a blunt in your hand, inhaling and switching between each boy, gripping their cheeks and blowing gently into their mouths, holding them close enough to brush your lips against theirs. You kept eye contact with Eren as you did. He was furious - cock hard, and strained against his pants as he watched. Armin begins to pull down your shorts gently, glancing up at your face to see if you notice. Jean slid his hand under your shirt as well, groaning at the softness of your skin.

“Mmm...cocoa butter thighs..”Armin slurred as he squeezed the junction on your ass and thighs. You giggled, kissing his head as you scratch the back of it.

That was it.

Eren shot up, yanking both men off of you and the couch before throwing them out, tossing their items with them. You sat on the couch, stunned and pleased as you hear them yell before the door slammed. He stomped back, tearing off his jacket before picking you up as if you were weightless. Kicking the door to his room, he threw you on the bed. You immediately pulled down your shorts, giggling at his attempts to get your pants off as fast as he could.

“You’re gonna fucking get it, baby,”

“Oooo~Promise daddy” you cooed as you began to pull up your shirt.

Eren stalked towards you on the bed, eyes trained on how wet you were, dripping onto the comforter below. Throwing your shirt onto the floor, he pounced, sucking on your nipples as he spreads your lips, rubbing your clit firmly. You mewled as you arched your back, loving the low growls that leave his lips.

“F-fuck, if I knew t-teasing would get this kind of...oh f-fuck, harder... r-reaction out of you, I would have done it s-sooner” You moaned as he fingers your sensitive entrance, rubbing his thumb on your clit at the same time.

Sitting up, he continues to finger you, jerking his cock at the sight of your wet, messy pussy. “Gotta remind this little pussy who it belongs to? Huh? Baby boy forgets who’s in charge when I’m home, don’t he?”

He pushed your thighs back, fingering you faster as he rubs against your sweet spot. Your legs twitched as you tried to hold back your moans, gripping his wrist and whining softly. “I-I’m sorry daddy! Oh, fuck! Yes, yes, yes, more!”

The tightness in your core reached its peak as he gripped your throat with his other hand. Looking him in the eye, your breath caught in your throat as you saw...adoration. “Only I can make ya feel good, right, puppy?” He whispered and you nodded frantically, smiling as you hold under your knees. He groaned, kissing and drinking your moans as he fingers you wildy, pulling your orgasm from you. You squirted across his arm and stomach, but he didn’t care. He squeezed your throat ever so slightly as he pulls back.

“T-toooo m-much, ahh daddy daddy! Too much!”

“Nah nah, I know my good baby boy can take it, can’t he? Unless you’re not my good baby boy. Are ya?”

You whined loudly, desperately trying to thrust your hips up to meet his hand. “No, I am, I am! I’m a good boy, daddy,”

He smiled wildly. Letting go of your throat, he laid your legs on his shoulders. Holding your ass, he began slowly, thrusting as deep as he could and pulling out till only the tip was inside. You kissed each other sweetly, whispering soft nothings as his hands traveled, squeezing and pinching his favorite parts of your plush body.

“I hated seeing them on you, baby, you’re mine, all fucking mine,” He growled into your ear as he picked up the pace. Planting his hands on the sides of your head, he smirked down at your fucked out form. Brown lips, kiss bitten and drooling, your eyes were hazy and out of focus as you looked back at him.

“M’sorry, daddy~ B-but you’ve been ignoring meee”

“I know I know, I’m sorry”

He held your cheek gently, kissing you softly as he grinds his pelvis into you, rubbing your clit against his happy trail. You moaned into his kiss, tugging his hair gently and thrusting your hips up to meet him.

Moving your legs down so they can wrap around him, he rubbed your shoulders and gripped them as he dug his knees into the bed, thrusting wildly into you. Your heels dug into the dimples on his back as your nails dug into his shoulders. His face was tucked in your neck, licking and sucking slowly all over you. Moaning just as whorishly into your ear as the slapping sounds of his balls against your ass grew in volume. You came around him, one orgasm quickly following the last. He began to lose his grip.

“G-gonna cum, gonna cum in this tight fucking pussy, so good, so wet, so wet” Eren began mumbling, drooling a bit himself as he felt your pussy tighten around him. You yanked his head back, giggling at his own fucked out look. As he drooled, you kissed his cheek gently, whispering into his ear;

“Don’t worry, baby, cum inside me as much as you want.”

That was it. He groaned loudly, holding you to him tightly as he rutted against you. Determined to fill your cunt to the brim with his cum.

“Take it, take it, take it, fucking dirty boy” He whined.

As the both of you continued to grind against each other, lost in pleasure, Eren pulled a blunt from his drawer. Lighting it, he held it for you as well. Both taking a drag, you held his face, blowing smoke into each other’s mouths. Your tongues danced against each other, drool trailing down your mouths as you held each other close.

He laid on his back, pulling you close to him. He kisses your hair and pulls out your elastic, massaging your scalp gently. “You did so so good, I’m sorry for being such an ass.” He mumbled into your hair. You hummed softly, listening to his heartbeat settle as the two of you shared the blunt. Finally looking up at him, you held his face gently. “It is alright ‘rin. Thank you for checking on me, though get ready to be clowned on by Jean and Armin.” You chuckled.

He rolled his eyes, leaning down to kiss you gently on the lips before wrapping both arms around you. The air was thick with sex and smoke, and you wouldn’t have it any other way. Erin Jeagar was a bastard roommate. But under everything, he was a wonderful boyfriend.

“My cocoa butter thighs,” He gently gripped your thigh, jiggling it gently.

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rax-writes · 3 years

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More 》 Part Two

Fandom: MCU Pairing: Baron Helmut Zemo x Reader Warnings: Sexual intercourse, choking, hair pulling, oral sex (f!receiving) [reader is a female-identifying individual with a vagina] Notes: Part two of More 》 I cannot thank you guys enough for how well More did, and I hope that you enjoy this addition to it! 》 I honestly didn’t edit this all that extensively, so if there are any errors, please let me know. ♥

At the break of dawn the next morning, you found yourself on a loading dock for shipment containers with Sharon, Bucky, Sam, and Zemo – pretending all the while that nothing had happened between you and the latter individual. You wore a sweater with a high neckline, per Zemo’s suggestion, and interacted with him exactly the same way that you had before. He did a good job at selling the lie as well, although he seemed incapable of keeping his eyes to himself, frequently staring at you for far longer than he should have, that dark, hungry look in his eyes returning if his gaze lingered for too long.

“All right, he’s in there,” Sharon announced, stopping in the middle of the massive metal boxes. “Container four-two-six-one. I’ll keep an eye out while you guys talk to Nagel, but hurry. We’re on borrowed time.”

You accepted one of the earpieces she offered, getting it into place as she walked off. When the four of you entered the container, you found that it was empty, and appeared to have been that way for quite some time.

“Hey, Sharon, you sure this is the right one?” Sam inquired incredulously. “It’s completely empty.”

“Positive. It has to be.”

You entered the container, the other three right behind you, and closed your eyes as they looked around.

“He’s here. I can hear his thoughts,” you announced, then began to pick the doctor’s brain further. “Push against the back wall. There’s a secret passageway.”

Zemo did as you bade him, and sure enough, the wall moved backwards a bit, to allow him to open the hidden door. He shot you a curt nod of approval, then stepped back to allow Sam to enter first, and the rest of you followed suit.

Music filled the air, a swanky song you didn’t recognize, as you stalked through the laboratory, your gun aimed dead ahead and eyes peeled.

“Follow me,” you whispered, taking the lead as you easily navigated to the physical source of Dr. Nagel’s thoughts. When you saw him, his back was to you, slouched over whatever he was working on as he hummed along to the tune. Sam silently walked over and removed the needle from the record that played the music, and Nagel turned around slowly, fear written all over his face.

“Dr. Nagel?”

“Who are you? What do you want?”

“We know you created the super soldier serum.”

“Get out of my lab,” Nagel commanded, as if he was in any position to give orders. He began to walk toward the exit, but you stepped in front of him and stopped him with a hand flat against his bony chest.

“I’m afraid we can’t do that. Not until you tell us what we need to know,” you informed him without speaking, your voice infiltrating his mind. Nagel let out a frightened gasp as he looked behind him, apparently thinking that may be the source of the voice, before his eyes landed on you.

“You,” he whispered, his voice a mix of confusion, fear, and awe as you met his gaze with harsh eyes. “You – you spoke to me, in my head. How did you do that?”

“She can read your mind, and she can also control it. So, I’d advise you to answer our questions, before she forces you to,” Sam threatened, then watched as Nagel took note of Bucky across the room. “And you know who he is, right?” He then grabbed Nagel by the arm and turned him to face Zemo. “This is Baron Zemo. I know you’ve heard of him, too, right?” He dragged Nagel to the nearest wall, shoving him against it as his back collided with the metal grate. “You seem like a pretty smart guy, so you better become conversational real quick.”

“How ‘bout a counter proposal? Make me a better offer, and I’ll talk,” Nagel proposed.

“Guys, we have company,” Sharon’s voice stated through the earpiece. “Every bounty hunter in the city is here. We gotta go!”

Bucky grabbed Nagel by his shirt and dragged him over to a chair, forcing him down roughly before pointing his gun at Nagel’s head, finger on the trigger. He still didn’t look terribly interested in talking, so you lowered your weapon and narrowed your eyes at him, and used your abilities to insight sheer, unadulterated fear in his mind. His eyes widened and he visibly paled as his mind wreaked havoc on itself, instilling a very pure, very powerful terror within him.

“Okay, okay! I’ll talk! Just stop it!”

You ended the onslaught of panic, and raised your gun once again, as your three companions eyed you with curiosity, unsure of what exactly you’d just done to him. But there would be time for an explanation later.

Nagel explained how he formulated the super soldier serum, and you all listened intently to his little tale. That was when you heard it. Like the crack of a twig in an otherwise silent forest, yet making no audible sound at all, you heard it.

“I must kill him.”

You looked over at Zemo as nonchalantly as possible, and his eyes widened slightly when he realized you’d picked up on his decision. The two of you shared tense eye contact for several beats, and you knew that you must make a choice. Allow Zemo to end this man’s life, and end the possibility of additional serums being created, or warn Sam and Bucky of his intentions?

“You know the damage unchecked Super Soldiers can cause. He is dangerous; he must be stopped.”

Zemo spoke directly to you in his mind, and you took the opportunity to dig deeper, searching for any sign that he was going to betray you, Sam, and Bucky. When you found none, you sighed quietly as you made your choice, and returned your attention to Nagel. Out of your peripheral, you saw Zemo begin perusing the room, feeling underneath tables in the lab in search of a secluded weapon.

“Is there any serum in this lab?” Bucky inquired, and when Nagel hesitated, he pressed the barrel of his gun against the man’s temple, prompting an answer of no. “Now what?”

Sharon ran into the room then, announcing, “Guys, we’re seriously outta time here.”

Zemo took her distraction as an opportunity to draw his gun and shoot Nagel in the chest, straight through his heart. Sam tackled Zemo, and Sharon took the gun from his hand, whispering, “What did you do?”

The very next moment, the entire place exploded, erupting into flames as you, Bucky, Sam, and Sharon hit the deck, although Zemo was nowhere to be found when you groaned in pain and looked around the room from your position on the floor. Bucky pulled you to your feet, then Sharon, then Sam, as the four of you exited the container before it could explode from all the chemicals and fire in Nagel’s lab. You didn’t quite make it, as a gas-fueled explosion went off just as you exited the container, but you were far enough away from it that it merely blew your hair forward. Once outside, the adrenaline wore off just enough that you felt a blinding pain in your torso, and looked down to see blood quickly soaking through your sweater.

“Bucky,” you called out, and he turned quickly, a frown forming on his face when he saw your injury. You lifted your shirt to reveal a thin, jagged, three-inch long sliver of metal embedded in the center of your abdomen. Sam turned to bark orders at the two of you, but his face fell as he saw the blood.

Sharon made quick work of removing the metal, which was thankfully only about an inch or less in width, so it wasn’t at all deadly. Truthfully, it wasn't that bad of an injury, but god was it bleeding like hell. Bucky yanked off his jacket and handed it to you, instructing you to apply pressure to the wound and stick close to him. Your three companions shot at the bounty hunters that were approaching, and you did your best to fire a few shots yourself, your other hand pressing the jacket firmly against your injury. Sam shot you a disapproving look and told you to focus on yourself, but you ignored him.

While Sam and Bucky began bickering about who should have followed whose orders, there was yet another deafening explosion nearby. You looked in that direction to see Zemo with some sort of mask on, jumping down from atop some storage containers, before leaping over some metal piping and dodging past a man to evade his bullets, then grabbing him by the collar to use him as a human shield. He fired multiple rounds at the nearby bounty hunters, before releasing his grip on the first man and kicking him away, then shot him too. He looked at you through the flames, and you didn’t have to read his mind to know how exhilarated he felt, being truly back in action after spending years in a cell.

If asked, you’d chalk it up to the blood loss, but… goddamn, he looked hot kicking ass like that.

“Go,” Bucky ordered, helping you up and wrapping an arm around your waist to steady and guide you as the four of you made a break for it. Eventually, you reached an open storage container, and Sam helped you into it as Bucky fended off the last few bounty hunters.

When Bucky burst through the back of the container with his vibranium arm, you heard tires screech and an engine rev, before Zemo pulled up in a sports car.

“Supercharged,” he stated with the faintest smile. Christ, he was just a little bit of a goofball, wasn’t he?

“You’re going back to jail,” Sam said angrily, then turned to you. “And you were supposed to tell us if he was going to screw us over.”

“Nagel shouldn’t have been kept alive. I know you don’t like it, but it is the truth,” you reasoned.

“He didn’t have to die though, dammit! He could have just gone to jail, locked up for the rest of his life!”

“Oh, yes, just like Zemo? The man standing five feet from us, very much not in jail?” you countered, and he frowned, knowing you had a point. “Once word got out that Nagel knew how to recreate the serum, every power hungry individual and group in the world would be trying to find a way to either break him out or ask him about it. And I’m sure he would have told anyone for the right price. Even if the serum didn’t fall into the hands of the wrong people, even if a seemingly good-natured country like America were to get ahold of it, it could still be used for evil. They clearly don’t have the best moral compass, considering the asshole they gave Captain America’s shield to.”

“Alright, yeah, you’ve made your point,” Sam grumbled. “But I still think we should take Zemo back to jail.”

“Do you want to find Karli or not?” Zemo interjected.

“He’s right, we need him. And there’s three of us, and at least 20 of them. Come on,” Bucky said, pulling open the door of the car before turning around to help you into the vehicle. Only then did Zemo notice the blood on your hands and sweater, and Bucky’s blazer pressed against your torso.

“What happened to her?” Zemo inquired, sitting up to help you sit behind him, and frowning when you grimaced as you maneuvered into your seat, careful not to get any blood on the lovely cream interior. The car didn’t belong to any of you, but it was so beautiful that you hated to harm it.

“Stray shard of metal during the explosion in Nagel’s container,” you explained, grimacing a little as you leaned your head against the headrest behind you, eyes closed as you willed the pain to subside.

“Are you alright?”

“I will be. Probably just needs a few stitches, then I’ll be good as new,” you assured him, shooting him a tight-lipped smile, which he didn’t seem to buy before he removed his trenchcoat and laid it on top of you.

“You look cold,” he muttered, then turned back around in his seat to face the steering wheel.

“Fine, but if you try that shit again…” Sam told Zemo as he climbed into the car.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Zemo responded, and you didn’t have to check his thoughts to know that that was a complete lie.

Sharon bid you all goodbye, and Sam thanked her for her help before sliding down into his seat.

“You’re not gonna move your seat up, are you?” Sam asked Bucky.

“No,” he deadpanned, causing you to chuckle under your breath, which earned you a glare from Sam.

The drive back to the airport was mostly silent, which you were thankful for, as you didn’t really have the energy for talking. The bleeding had mostly stopped, but you’d still lost enough and exerted yourself enough that you were feeling fatigued. Zemo parked the car on the landing strip, a short distance from his jet, and was quick to exit the vehicle to help you out. You thought you were doing quite well, until you actually stood up outside the car, and the exhaustion combined with some wooziness from the blood loss made your knees buckle. You would have fallen if Zemo hadn’t lunged forward and wrapped his arms around your waist, looking at you with concern in his eyes.

“Let us get you aboard the plane, and I will dress your wound,” he said, then stooped to scoop you up into his arms bridal-style, and began carrying you toward the jet. Sam and Bucky eyed him curiously, but said nothing. Admittedly, you were too flustered by the close proximity and his gentleness toward you to say anything yourself. You looked over his shoulder, admiring his stolen vehicle one last time.

In Sokovian, you stated with a smile, “I’d like one of those by the way, the Pontiac.”

“Whatever your heart desires,” he responded calmly, matching your Sokovian. As he approached Oeznik, who stood beside the steps of the jet, he continued in that language as he instructed the butler, “Have that car, or one exactly like it, delivered to Berlin as soon as possible, please.”

“Of course, sir.”

Zemo laid you down gently on the couch inside the plane, Sam and Bucky following close behind. Once inside, Oeznik brought Zemo the first aid kit, a needle, and some stitching. Both of the other men offered to do it themselves, but Zemo insisted that he could do a better job than both of them combined. In a manner much unlike the night before, Zemo lifted your shirt to have access to the wound, and set to work. Bucky let you hold his hand as Zemo cleaned the area and did the stitches, while you forced yourself to breathe evenly and ignore the pain of the antiseptic and the needle. A mere fifteen minutes later, you were all patched up, and Zemo was helping you up and sending you to the washroom with a change of clothes.

“You’re gettin’ real sweet on her, Zemo,” you heard Sam note, his tone suspicious. “You better watch yourself, man. Step out of line with her and we won’t hesitate to end you.”

“Understood,” Zemo replied nonchalantly, then you could hear him open a book and take a sip of his champagne. For your own amusement, you took a peek into his mind, and found that he was thinking, “Too late.”

You smiled to yourself as you undressed, carefully removing the blood-soaked sweater and placing it in a trash bag. When you saw yourself in the mirror, you first noticed the hickeys from last night, then the miscellaneous cuts scattered across your skin from the various explosions, and the gauze taped over your wound. The hickeys caused your smile to widen further, and you donned the plain black t-shirt of Zemo’s and his loose gray sweatpants before rejoining them in the lounge. His eyes darkened in that way as his gaze raked up and down your body, clearly enjoying the sight of you in his clothing, but he quickly returned his attention to Sam.

“She died in Riga, a city near the Baltic Sea.”

“I have a place we can go,” Zemo suggested, then leaned back in his seat. “I, for one, am looking forward to coming face-to-face with Karli. Oeznik, we’re changing the course.”

A few hours later, Bucky and Sam had fallen asleep after reclining their chairs and dimming the lights, as you laid on the couch, halfway asleep yourself despite the book in your hands. Once their near-identical snores had filled the cabin for several minutes, Zemo stood from his seat and came to crouch down beside your head. His expression was unreadable as he stared at you, before leaning forward to place a chaste kiss on your lips.

“I must admit, I was very concerned when I saw all the blood on your shirt. I have only just found you, my Sokovian beauty. I would prefer to draw out having the privilege of being acquainted with you for as long as possible, but I cannot do that if you get killed.”

“I’ll do my best to avoid it,” you teased, and he smiled softly. “Thank you for taking such good care of my injury earlier.” He said nothing in response, simply smiled a bit wider and kissed you again, longer this time, but still far shorter and far less intimately than you’d have preferred. You both had to take the others into consideration, even despite their snores, because you were quite certain they’d put a bullet between Zemo’s eyes and send you home immediately if they learned just how “sweet on you” the man truly was. He stood and fetched a blanket from an overhead cabinet before laying it over you, then pressed his lips to your forehead, and returned to his seat.

“Goodnight, Liebling,” Zemo said softly, flicking off the last light in the cabin as he settled back into his seat.

“Goodnight, Baron.”

—————

Riga was somehow comparably chaotic to Madripoor, in terms of the events that transpired there.

Shortly after you arrived at Zemo’s estate, Bucky returned from his "walk" to declare that the Wakandans were there to take Zemo, although he bought some time. In all honesty, you were only half-ass listening to him, because Zemo had exited the bathroom with wet hair and a purple robe that revealed half his chest. He caught you staring and shot you a subtle wink while Sam and Bucky were talking, and you rolled your eyes in return.

Next stop was a refugee camp, where you, Bucky, and Sam searched in vain to get any information on Danya Madani. Zemo somehow managed to accomplish the task, albeit in the creepiest way possible, which you teased him relentlessly for on the walk back to his flat. When he revealed that the girl he'd spoken to told him the time and location of the funeral, but refused to tell any of you, Bucky was quick to anger, snatching the teacup from Zemo’s hand and throwing it against the wall. Sam talked him down before you grabbed Bucky’s arm, pulling him gently toward the door.

"Come on, let's take a walk. I saw a little farmer's market down the road; let's go have a snack and explore a little, yeah?" you asked, your tone calm and soothing to contrast the rage that swarmed in his mind, and Bucky nodded gravely to you as he let you lead him. When you glanced back into the flat as you closed the door behind you, you saw that Zemo was wearing a frown, and a quick peek at his thoughts informed you that he was pouting a bit, wishing you'd have just sent Bucky off and stayed with him. You rolled your eyes internally, then accompanied Bucky to the market, where the two of you ate some plums and took a little walk. When the two of you returned to the flat, Zemo announced that it was time to head to the funeral.

"Did you enjoy your little excursion with James?" Zemo inquired in Sokovian, a tinge of spite in his voice. "Did you relieve his tension?"

"It wouldn't be any of your business if I did," you shot back, also in Sokovian. The disdain on his face disappeared quickly, and you added, "But no, we just took a walk and had some food, as I said we would. Jealousy does not suit you, Baron."

Zemo's voice took on a gentler tone, the Sokovian dripping from his tongue like honey as he said, "My apologies, darling. You are just so magnificent that I want you all to myself; the thought of you with another man is enviable."

"Don’t apologize. Just end it."

He nodded, and before either of you could say anything else, that asshole John Walker showed up, along with his partner. They demanded that Sam and Bucky no longer keep them in the dark, but ultimately, Walker conceded to follow Zemo, and allow Sam the opportunity to talk to Karli alone. As Sam walked off, Walker grabbed Zemo forcefully and handcuffed him to some kind of metal contraption on the wall.

"Aggressive. But I get it," Zemo quipped. He turned to you, and in Sokovian, said, "Once I get out of these, perhaps we could use them to our advantage later this evening."

"Zip it, Zemo."

Unsurprisingly, Walker betrayed his agreement with Sam, barging in on the memorial before Sam's allotted time was up.

"Uh-uh. No, no, no, no. This is a bad idea."

"It hasn't been ten minutes, John. Just sit tight," Bucky responded calmly.

"Don’t do that. Don't patronize me."

"Then do not behave so childishly," you retorted, and Bucky elbowed you while Walker shot you an icy glare. He opened his mouth to say something, but Bucky cut him off, aiming to divert the subject before Walker pushed you any further.

"He knows what he's doing."

Walker was silent for a moment more, before he grabbed the shield – which shouldn't be in his possession in the first place – and marched toward the door. "I'm goin' in."

Bucky stopped him, but after Walker guilt-tripped him, Bucky stepped to the side to allow him to pass. You groaned in exasperation the second Walker walked off.

"Why the hell did you do that?"

"It was either that, or you and me fight Walker and Battlescar – or whatever his stupid code name is. I'm already on probation, and I helped the guy that split up the Avengers break out of prison. I really don't need ‘beat the shit out of the new Cap’ added to my list of wrongdoings," Bucky said, running a hand through his hair before clapping a hand on your shoulder. "Come on, let's go find Sam."

As Bucky jogged off in the direction Walker had gone, you followed while grumbling, "My preference would have been the latter, but no, why would anyone ask for my opinion? I'm just the pet mind reader."

When the two of you caught up to Walker and Hoskins, the former was thrown into a table by Karli, and she ran off. Bucky chased after her, and you took another route to try to intercept her, to no avail. You caught up with Sam and Bucky a few minutes later, out of breath as Sam commented that the building was like a maze, and you wholeheartedly agreed. By the time the three of you found the others, Karli was gone, Walker was just standing there, and Zemo was out cold on the floor.

Walker and Hoskins stated that they were going to search for Karli, and ran off. Bucky threw Zemo over his shoulder like a damn ragdoll, and the three of you trudged back to Zemo’s flat, a little worn out and a little defeated. Once there, Bucky threw him down on the couch, and Zemo bounced limply atop the cushions, still unconscious. Sam began working on his laptop, and Bucky went on yet another walk, while you searched for the first aid kit.

Zemo looked surprisingly peaceful and non-threatening as he laid there, appearing to be asleep. You kneeled beside his head and lightly applied some antiseptic on the cut left by Cap's shield, right at the top of his hairline, and you found yourself admiring him. He had soft features for a man so dark inside; soft chestnut brown hair, adorable nose, slight bit of stubble across his gentle jawline and neck. You began dabbing the antiseptic again, still lost in your own thoughts when he awoke very suddenly, grabbing your wrist in a fierce grip out of reflex. Zemo's eyes were wide when he first opened them, but upon seeing you, he visibly relaxed and released his grip on you.

"Apologies," he whispered, then groaned softly when he felt the pain in his head. You stood silently and retrieved a rag from the drawer beside the sink, wetting it with cold water, then filled a glass with some ice and brandy and returned, handing both items to Zemo. He thanked you very sincerely, then laid the rag over his forehead and eyes, and held the glass atop his chest.

You were grateful that Sam hadn't noticed you doting on him, too focused on his laptop, because he'd have definitely asked you about it, and you didn't even have an answer for yourself. It wasn't like there was any need or obligation for you to tend to him like that, and yet you did without even thinking. As you took a seat opposite Zemo on the couch, you told yourself that it was merely payback for how he assisted you with your own injury the day before, and left it at that.

It wasn't long before Walker and his partner showed up again, demanding to place Zemo under arrest. You, Sam, and Zemo all stood when he burst through the doors, all silently conglomerating to one side of the room. Walker had the gall to threaten Sam, and it had your fingers twitching on the gun in your thigh holster in rage. Before anything could come of that, the Wakandans Bucky had mentioned showed up, and when Walker tried talking down to them before placing a hand on one's shoulder, melee ensued.

You leaned on the bar with one arm, watching in amusement as Walker got his ass handed to him. Zemo seemed to be in the same boat, observing without expression as he passed you his drink, and you took a couple of sips before returning it.

"We should do something," Sam said to you and Bucky.

"Looking strong, John!"

"Yes, excellent form! Top notch," you added. "Really showing them the prowess of the new Captain America!"

"Bucky…" Sam chided, prompting Bucky to finally intervene. Sam looked to you, and you held your hands up in defense.

"I am not fighting the goddamn Dora Milaje. I don't feel like dying today – especially not for the sake of helping John Walker."

Sam sighed before joining the fight himself, and that was when Zemo’s hand enveloped yours, silently tugging you towards the bathroom. You opened your mouth to say "Is this really the time for a quickie?" but he held a finger to his lips, effectively silencing you. Once he had successfully guided you into the bathroom, he closed the door quietly behind him, and shoved the tub to the side, revealing a secret passageway.

"Come with me," Zemo said simply, and you scoffed.

"I'm not abandoning Sam and Bucky. My place is here."

"Actually, if I remember correctly, your assignment is to keep an eye on me. Although I'd rather not have to, I will overpower you if I must, because I will be leaving now. So, it is technically your job to follow me, and it would behoove you to simply follow your comrades’ orders without an unnecessary scuffle."

The man really didn't miss a beat, did he? Sam and Bucky had, in fact, assigned you to watch Zemo. Although it was implied that that was everyone's task, they had specifically delegated the role to you. So, it was a matter of whether or not you could take Zemo in a fight, and although you secretly hoped he'd go easy on you, you knew that his own self-preservation was his chief concern.

"Fine," you grumbled, not missing the smile on his face as you shoved past him and jumped down into the tunnel.

Your joints ached in protest of your actions, but you ignored it. He was right behind you, not even bothering to cover the passageway back up before taking off in one of the three directions that the tunnel led to. You were right behind him, and it wasn't long before the sounds of the scuffle faded away. Roughly five minutes later, you reached the end, and he pushed aside the manhole above you and climbed out. Zemo took your hands and helped you out as well, before replacing the manhole while you surveyed the area. It was a city street, but they all looked the same in Riga, so you had no idea where you were.

"Come on," Zemo said, lacing his fingers with yours as you ran down the street. He took a few turns and ended up in the town square, where he led you into a hotel. As you entered the lobby, he explained, "We'll stay here for a few hours, essentially hiding in plain sight, to allow the Dora Milaje and Walker time to leave and search for me elsewhere."

You nodded, and as you approached the front desk, Zemo wrapped his arm snugly around your waist, pulling you close to him.

"Do you have any availability for the night?" Zemo inquired, then smiled lovingly at you. "It is our wedding day, and my beautiful bride simply cannot wait until we reach our honeymoon destination to get her hands on me."

You sent Zemo a quick glare, but the man at the desk didn't notice. He chuckled and nodded, saying something about "What a happy couple" as he booked the room for you. Zemo ignored your pointed look and kissed your temple, thanking the man and paying for the room before leading you in the direction of the room. As soon as you were out of earshot of the desk clerk, you glowered at Zemo once again, although his arm remained around your waist until you reached the room. Not that you minded, really.

"'Beautiful bride'? 'Honeymoon'? Really?"

"Yes," Zemo replied calmly, unlocking the door and opening it for you. As you walked past him, he elaborated, "If Walker comes looking for me, he'll be asking for a former SHIELD agent and a criminal. If the gentleman at the desk is convinced we're a happy newlywed couple, he won't even think to mention us to Walker."

It didn't take more than half a second to find his genuine answer in his mind. "How smoothly and effortlessly you lie, Zemo. You simply wanted to touch me again, so you came up with a convenient excuse."

Zemo licked his lips subtly, before shrugging with a small smile, wordlessly saying 'you got me there.'

"We need to get back to Sam and Bucky once Walker and the Dora Milaje are gone, but there's no foolproof way to go about it," you began pacing the room, as Zemo remained fixed beside the wall. "If I text Sam or Bucky, Walker will know they got a message, and they're both the worst liars I've ever met. God knows we don't need the Dora having any idea about where you are, you wouldn't last a full minute before they drove a spear through your chest. We also can't wait around too long, because then Sam and Bucky might leave Riga, and —"

You were still pacing and mid-sentence when Zemo suddenly grabbed you by the back of your neck and pulled you into a searing kiss, effectively silencing you. His other hand rested on the curve of your waist, pulling you against his chest. The surprise of the act and subsequent warm feeling in your stomach absolutely obliterated all other thoughts from your mind, and all you could focus on was him.

At some point, you regained your senses, albeit still in a haze. You pressed your palms to his shoulders and shoved him a few inches back, and he stared down at you with half-lidded eyes and lust-blown pupils.

“We – we need to focus on Sam and Bucky,” you managed to stammer out, but Zemo simply cupped your cheek and stroked the side of your face with his thumb.

“Is that truly what you want to be focusing on, Schatz?” Zemo inquired, his voice low, taking on even more of a gravely tone than usual. It flooded your veins with heat and desire, and you found your eyes fluttering closed as he bent down to pepper your neck with kisses. “Or would you rather simply wait out Walker and the Dora Milaje here, with me? Allowing me to touch you, taste you, in all the ways I know you crave?”

The final shred of your sanity left the building when he gently bit down on your neck, at the point where it met your shoulder, and you found yourself releasing a breathy moan and melting into his touch. Zemo wasted no time in kissing you once again, lips fast and insistent on yours, one hand on the small of your back, pressing you against him, and the other on the nape of your neck once again. His body leaned into yours as he kissed you with fervor, and your hands longingly grasped the front of his sweater. Eventually, Zemo abruptly spun you around to press your back against the wall that had previously been behind him, and he hiked one of your legs up onto his hip, gripping it under your thigh. His other hand slowly moved from the back of your neck to the front, fingers curling deliciously around your throat as he applied a little pressure, earning another airy moan from you.

As if on reflex, his hips bucked up into you, and the friction left you mewling. Just like last time, it seemed to be your noises that set Zemo off, as he released a low growl from the back of his throat and dropped your leg to tear your shirt off while you took the hint and kicked off your shoes. He undid the fasten on your jeans with lightning speed, and yanked them – along with your panties – down past your hips so you could kick them both off. Next went your bra, which was flung god knows where in the room, and Zemo took a small step back to admire you.

It only lasted for a split second, because you then grabbed the straps he wore around his shoulders and used them to pull him in and kiss him again. Zemo’s hands glided slowly, sensually down your shoulders, your back, then came to rest upon your ass, grabbing it fiercely with both hands. His hands trailed further down, to the undersides of your thighs, before he lifted you with surprising ease and carried you over to the bed at the center of the room. Zemo threw you down onto the mattress unceremoniously, gaze locked on your chest as he watched your breasts bounce from the force, but you were quick to sit upright and pull him back in by the shoulder straps. You removed them then, as well as his turtleneck and belt buckle, and he was cooperative in removing his own boots and slacks, leaving him in his black briefs, his cock tenting the fabric there.

When you reached out to remove his briefs, Zemo pushed you to lay down by your shoulder, and knelt down at the edge of the bed, opening your legs at the knee with a harsh grip. You didn’t even have time to blink before he dove in, licking a long stripe up your slit before moving to your clit as your head fell back onto the mattress and your eyes fluttered closed. He focused primarily on your clit, occasionally lapping at your folds, but always returning his attention to that bundle of nerves. Gasps and moans were already falling for your lips, but when his middle finger and ring finger entered the fray, you found yourself crying out his name and tangling your fingers in his hair.

That delectable little growl of his escaped him once more, and you felt the vibrations of it against you, which warranted another moan, and Zemo’s fingers began delving in and out of your core at a steadfast pace. When he began curling them upwards, rubbing them against that sweet spot deep inside you, you were a goner. He wanted more of your beautiful sounds of pleasure, wanted to see you become more and more undone for him. You only lasted a couple minutes longer, growing progressively louder and more unhinged with each passing second. You were then launched over the edge, one hand tugging on his chestnut tresses and the other gripping the comforter of the bed, crying out his name amongst various explicatives.

When your eyes opened again, Zemo was standing, kicking off his boxers as he made eye contact with you while he sucked his fingers clean of you. He had set his wallet on the bedside table in the midst of your pacing, so he retrieved it and pulled a condom from one of the compartments. You sat up and snatched it from him, quickly tearing it open and rolling it down over his length. The sensation caused a sigh to leave his lips, before murmuring, "Eager, are we, Kätzchen?"

Electing to ignore him, you grabbed his hand and pulled him onto the bed with you, wordlessly instructing him to lay down by pressing your hands on his chest. Zemo got the message with ease, happily complying as you straddled him. The sight of you sinking down on his clock, your palms flat against his chest to steady yourself, caused him to groan in pleasure. Far too eager to spend an abundant amount of time adjusting to him, you began moving, rocking your hips back and forth at a resolute pace, savoring the feeling of him sliding in and out of you. Zemo's hands rested on your waist, fingertips digging into your skin as he helped you keep your rhythm, while he gazed up at you as if you were a goddess in the flesh, his jaw hanging open slightly and hair disheveled.

By the time you were approaching your second orgasm, Zemo could tell, from the faltering of your hips as they strove to increase their speed, and from the way your nails raked down his chest each time you used his length inside you to hit that special spot there. He began thrusting up into you, eager to feel you come on his cock. You unintentionally caught a passing glance at his thoughts, and learned that it seemed that he always wanted more of you, needed more of you, to the point that he questioned if you had toyed with his mind somehow. You were about to inform him that no, you had not done anything to his mind, when he trusted particularly hard and deep up into you and his fingertips dug deliciously hard into your hips at the same time, and all sensual thoughts left your mind as you met your release a second time.

Still shaking slightly and moaning breathlessly, Zemo flipped you over onto your back, lifted your calf up onto his hip and held it there, and began pistoning in and out of you at a desperate, unforgiving pace. When your eyes fluttered open, you found that he was practically snarling above you, teeth bared in concentration and an intense fire in his eyes. It reminded you that his softness toward you did not change the fact that he was a criminal mastermind and former kill squad leader, who had done a great many terrible things. Yet the thought only made you want him even more, wrapping an arm around his neck to pull him into a heated, haphazard kiss.

Zemo thrust in and out of you like a man on a mission, the sound of his pelvis colliding with yours filling the room, before he pulled out of you long enough to flip you onto your chest, face in the pillows and ass in the air, then resumed his pace. The new angle felt incredible, and it didn't take long before you were moaning into the pillows, fists clenched around the duvet. In the blink of an eye, Zemo grabbed a fistful of your hair and yanked you upright, your back flush against his chest.

"Do not hide your beautiful noises from me, Liebling. I want to hear you," Zemo commanded, and you moaned in response, both as a confirmation of his words and as a natural reaction to the low, gravely tone his voice took on. His hand moved to encase your neck, tilting your head back even further so he could trail open-mouthed kisses down your neck, before biting down on your shoulder, earning a shuddering gasp from you. "Now tell me, Kätzchen: who makes you feel this good?"

"You," you choked out, groaning in pleasure when his fingers tightened their grip on your throat.

"Me, what?"

"You, Baron," you corrected, and Zemo hummed in approval, kissing you quickly in praise. He gave your neck another squeeze before throwing you back down onto the mattress, his hands on your hips as he returned his focus to fucking the very soul out of you.

As his hips began to stutter into yours and soft moans began falling from his lips, signaling he was approaching his end, Zemo reached around your body to begin expertly rubbing your clit, desperate for you to finish in unison. The way your walls fluttered around him let him know that he was on the right track, so he quickened the pace of his fingers on your clit, careful to maintain the angle he was thrusting at. As you fell apart beneath him a third and final time, your scream of "Baron!" and your core clenching around him like the most luxurious vice, Zemo found himself crying out your name in accompaniment with a low, guttural moan, spilling himself into the condom.

Zemo didn't move for a moment, hands still clutching your hips, albeit with a looser grip now, as he fought to catch his breath. Still panting, he slowly removed himself from you, falling into a sweaty heap beside you. Breathing heavily yourself, you leaned over to kiss him – far slower this time, both of you reveling in post-coitus bliss. He affectionately brushed your hair away from your face, as it had been stuck to your forehead from perspiration, before stroking your cheek with his thumb.

A brief eternity later, Zemo stood and headed to the restroom, no doubt disposing of the condom, before returning in one of the hotel’s white bathrobes and holding a cold rag. He flopped down onto the mattress, placing the towel over his forehead and eyes as he had earlier in his flat.

“Apologies, Schatz. As enjoyable as that was, it certainly did not help my migraine,” Zemo explained, blindly reaching out to grab your hand and bring it to his lips, placing a kiss on your knuckles.

You murmured a dismissive ‘you’re fine’ before heading to the washroom yourself, hopping into the shower and allowing the burning temperature of the water to ease the ache in practically all your muscles – some of it from fighting, some of it from fucking – although you suspected that the ache in your thighs, from being so tense throughout the multiple orgasms, wasn’t going away anytime soon. Thankfully, Zemo truly had done a marvelous job on your stitches, and the wound was already healing up nicely. By the time you finished your shower, the steam had clouded the room and coated the mirrors with condensation, but you felt more relaxed than you had in days. Donning a bathrobe yourself, you exited the bathroom, and situated yourself in the chair beside the floor-to-ceiling window on the wall of the room. Zemo was snoring softly, and the quiet tranquility of the room and the comfort of your seat sent you into a cat nap of your own, your head falling back against the chair as you slipped into unconsciousness.

You were entirely unsure how long you had slept, but when you awoke, Zemo was sitting with his back resting against the headboard, reading a random book he’d found in the room’s nightstand. He looked up at you long enough to flash you a small smile, before returning to the book. You yawned and rubbed your eyes, then sat up straighter in the chair and gazed out the window beside you. You hadn’t noticed, but the room had a lovely view of the town square.

A few minutes after you began observing the city below, your eyebrows practically shot up into your hairline as you saw none other than the bastard himself, John Walker, chasing one of the Flag Smashers before hitting him with the shield, sending the man flying into the statue at the center of the square. Each member of the bustling crowd stopped dead in their tracks, watching the scene unfold before them, as this new Captain America placed his foot on the man’s chest, pinning him against the stairs of the statue, as the man screamed, “It wasn’t me!”

The chair you were sitting in clattered to the floor as you stood bolt upright, a shuddering gasp escaping you and your hand flying to your mouth as you watched Walker raise the shield high above his head, a completely unhinged look upon his face. Zemo was at your side in an instant, his hands on your upper arms as he stood behind you, a worried expression on his face, wondering what could have caused you such distress. Before he had the chance to ask, Zemo’s eye caught the scene below, and you both watched in shock and horror as John Walker drove the shield into the Flag Smasher’s chest, again and again and again, until the man just laid there – bloodied, bludgeoned, and unmoving. Dead, at the hands of the new Captain America.

—————

@henrysmorgan @clints-lucky-arrow @therenlover

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kpophours · 4 years

Text

Sweet Night (M)

➵ Stray Kids: Bang Chan x fem. reader / one shot, college AU, camping trip AU / fluff, smut / REQUESTED

➵ warnings: slight cursing, explicit mentions of sex (slight public teasing, orgasm denial, oral: receiving, slight choking)

➵ word count: 6k (lol oops)

a/n: after a few anon requests/inquiries, I decided to write this one shot as the second part to Way to You - you can absolutely read this on its own though.

I’M WALKING ON SUNSHINE, OOOOOOH! I’M WALKING ON-

Your eyes fly open as soon as the song starts blaring from somewhere beside you, and you blindly fumble for the alarm clock, thankfully managing to find the off-switch quite quickly. This very annoying clock was a horrible yet also kinda thoughtful birthday gift from Chan’s roommates, as it’s quite possibly the loudest one on the market, meaning it is able to wake literally anyone. It could probably even wake Dracula from his deep slumber in the depths of his castle somewhere in Romania. And while Chan might not be a vampire, he isn’t one to wake easily either, so this extremely loud alarm clock was the only solution your friends had been able to come up with. Which sadly means you experience something close to a heart attack every morning - or well, at least a few times a week, as you do still spend some nights at the apartment you share with Jisung.

You fall back into the pillows, heart still racing from the sudden noise. Pale sunlight filters through the curtains and into the otherwise dark room. You groan, blinking against the rays of light hitting you straight in the face, and turn around to cuddle into your boyfriend’s broad back. He hums, only half-awake himself, and turns around to wrap both arms around you, leaving a lazy kiss on your forehead.

Suddenly, there’s a crash from somewhere in the house, and you jump. Chan sighs deeply, and murmurs “Hyunjin, probably.” under his breath - it’s no secret that his roommate is a walking disaster. You don’t answer, only pressing a soft kiss on his naked chest. “How’d you sleep?”, he asks, one hand beginning to trace gentle patterns on your bare back. “Like a rock - which was exactly what I needed after my midterms.”, you answer, and he nods. “You more than deserved that, babe. I’m really proud of you, by the way. I’m sure you aced all your exams.”, he says, and you can’t help but smile at his sweet words. You look up at him, gently cupping his cheek, and kiss him. He basically melts against you, pulling you even closer towards him, and bites down on your lower lip to slide his tongue into your mouth. Before this can end in a steamy morning make-out session, there’s a knock on Chan’s door. He groans and draws back from you, expression grumpy. “What?”, he then yells, shooting daggers towards his door. “Just wanted to make sure you’re up, we’re supposed to be leaving in an hour!”, Felix answers, sounding way too cheerful so early in the morning. “Ugh, I hate morning people. Just once I want to get up in the morning without having to go through the seven stages of grief first.”, you mumble, your warm breath tickling Chan’s neck and making him giggle and wiggle away from you. “Yeah, we’re up!”, he quickly answers Felix, who shuffles away from the door, before turning towards you again, “Wait, aren’t there only five stages of grief? What are your extra two?” “Denial part two and astral projection.”, you answer, and Chan laughs before giving you a soft smile, brushing some of your hair out of your face.

“Breakfast?”, he then asks, and you nod. “Absolutely. I need coffee, and lots of it.”, you agree, and he rolls his eyes. “I swear, by now there’s definitely coffee running through your veins instead of blood.”, Chan mumbles, before jumping out of bed to grab his underwear from the floor. You just chuckle and follow him, but can’t seem to find your bra anywhere. “What the Hell…”, you mumble under your breath, twirling around once in a desperate attempt to locate it. “Uh. Looking for this?”, Chan asks and you follow his gaze. You both burst into loud laughter when you spot your bra happily dangling from the ceiling light. “Well, we had to be very fast yesterday evening. Clothes went flying, and quite literally it seems.”, you say, lips twitching while you stand on your tiptoes to get your bra, and Chan nods in agreement. “Very fast indeed - but we couldn’t let the others begin the movie night without us! We had valid reasons.” He grins and wraps both arms around your waist to pull you close to him again, giving you a quick peck on the lips. When you want to deepen the kiss, he draws back again, expression stern. “No time for that, we have to get ready, eat breakfast and you still need to pack some of your stuff before we can leave. And we don’t want to let the others wait, right?” You sigh and pout. “No, we don’t, apparently.”, you just answer, and wiggle into your jeans and turtleneck, finally ready to leave the privacy of Chan’s room and get something to eat.

The scent of fresh coffee and pancakes greets you when you arrive downstairs, and you inhale deeply. Felix is standing in front of the stove, humming a soft tune under his breath while working on making the tower of pancakes beside him even taller. He turns around when you enter the kitchen, giving you his signature sunshine smile. “Morning, Y/N.”, he greets you, “Slept well?” You nod and peek over his shoulder. “Yup. And have I ever told you how much I love you?”, you ask, stealing a piece of pancake directly out of the pan, and Felix tries to swat your hand away before he chuckles. “Shouldn’t you say that to Chan, not to me?”, he replies, and your boyfriend, just entering the kitchen behind you, sighs deeply. “She’s an opportunist, meaning she’ll tell anyone she loves them if it means she gets what she wants, so beware. I actually rarely hear her say it to me.”, Chan says warningly, and you shoot him a dark look. “Oh shut up, that’s so not true. I tell you I love you at least once or twice a day, you needy baby.”, you grumble, and just then, Minho joins the small kitchen party. “Needy baby? You’re not talking about Hyunjin, are you?”, he asks, ruffling his crazy bed hair while filling a mug with coffee, sighing contently when he takes the first sip. You grin and shake your head, before taking a mug out of the cabinet yourself.

Said roommate also enters the kitchen just then, face looking quite puffy. You raise both eyebrows. “Did you cry yourself to sleep last night?”, you ask, and take a sip of coffee to hide your shit-eating grin. Hyunjin throws you a dark glare, and crosses both arms in front of his chest. “No. But I did have a slight mental breakdown after realizing I probably failed my last exam yesterday, so I decided to treat myself to some late-night-ramen, and now I look like this.”, he points at his face, beginning to pout, “God just hates pretty people, he’s clearly punishing me for my dashing looks.” “Or maybe he just doesn’t like narcissists.”, Jeongin offers when he enters the kitchen, shoving Minho out of the way to get to the kitchen cabinet almost overflowing with mugs. You decide it’s finally getting too crowded in the kitchen, and leave it again. You’re absolutely not a morning person, and can’t deal with the boys’ constant bickering without having experienced the positive effect of the caffeine you’re currently consuming.

Seungmin is sitting on one of the sofas, currently scrolling through Instagram and apparently trying to like every cute puppy pic in existence. “Morning.”, you greet him and take a seat beside him, peeking over his shoulder and cooing at an extremely cute baby golden retriever. Seungmin just greets you with a curt nod of his head, not being a morning person either, and keeps scrolling. Minutes later, Felix enters the living room, balancing a giant plate of fresh pancakes in front of him while all the other boys follow him like stray dogs. “What would you guys even do without Felix cooking for you all the time?”, you ask, mouth watering when you inhale the delicious smell. “Starve and die.”, Seungmin deadpans, while Jeongin answers: “We’d have to look at Hyunjin’s ugly bloated face every day because we’d solely live off ramen.” Hyunjin hits the back of his head for that, but the younger boy just shoots him his cheshire cat grin. “I mean, I could cook too, I guess.”, Chan says, frowning, and everyone bursts into loud laughter. “Wow okay, I’ll try not to take this personally…”, your boyfriend grumbles, and sits down at the dining table. You slide onto the chair next to him, and pat his thigh affectionately. “I love you, babe, but you literally didn’t know how to whisk eggs when we wanted to bake cookies last week.”, you say, and Chan sighs. “That’s... sadly fair. But I could learn!”

“No offense, but we actually like our kitchen intact - thanks for your humble offering though. If Felix should die unexpectedly, we might get back to you.”, Minho answers, and before the situation can escalate into a playful bickering battle, Felix yells “SO, WHO WANTS PANCAKES?!”, successfully managing to distract everyone.

One and a half hours later, everyone is packed and ready to go - you’ve planned this little getaway for almost two months now, everyone having finished their first round of exams at this time of year and being able to just relax for a bit. For some reason, the boys had wanted to go camping, and as you, Jisung’s girlfriend Lina and Hyunjin’s girlfriend Marie were clearly outnumbered by the boys, you hadn’t really had the chance to disagree with them. But you honestly don’t even mind, having gone camping lots of times already and just being happy to enjoy some time with your closest friends. Only Changbin won’t be able to join you guys, as he’s currently doing an internship and wasn’t able to request some time off.

Chan is just about to lock the front door to the frat house, when Jeongin zooms past you, yelling for his older roommate to wait. “I forgot something extremely important!”, he explains, almost breathless, and disappears into the house again. “What’s he getting now?”, your boyfriend wonders, and shoots you a questioning gaze. You just shrug, and let your bag fall to the ground, too lazy to hold onto it while waiting for the youngest of your group. A few minutes later, Jeongin comes back, a huge grin on his face and a giant stuffed animal in his arms. Chan blinks a few times, and opens his mouth to say something, but he gets cut off by the younger boy: “You guys can cuddle with each other, but I’d rather throw myself off a cliff than cuddle with Minho, Felix or Seungmin, whoever I’ll end up sharing a tent with. But I do wanna cuddle with someone, so Mr. Sunshine it is.”, he explains stoically, and you just nod in support. “I totally get that, plus I wouldn’t be too sure that Minho doesn’t just turn into a bat or something like that during the night. He’s at least part demon, we all know that.”, you say, and Jeongin giggles.

You’re truly prepared to give him anything whenever he smiles at you like this, his eyes almost disappearing, teeth almost blindingly bright. While you detain from squishing his cheeks, you do poke the dimple on his left one, being too endeared by him. He swats your hand away, of course he does, but you still bask in the victory of having poked his cheek. One thing to cross off your to-do-list for today.

“Okay, let’s go to the others.”, Chan finally says after locking the house, and without you having to say anything, he takes his and your bag and walks over to where the others are waiting beside the cars. Chivalry is not dead and you’re ready to swoon over your amazing boyfriend. “Okay, we still have to pick up Jisung, Lina and Marie.”, Chan says after he’s put your bags into the trunk of his car, “So, who’s gonna ride in which car?” “Well I obviously want to ride with Marie.”, Hyunjin says, a goofy smile on his face - they have been together for almost a year now, but he’s still very much extremely whipped for her, but luckily, she seems to feel the exact same way -, and Minho murmurs a sarcastic “Shocking, really.” under his breath. “I want Jisung and Lina in our car.”, you quickly say, and Chan gives you a short nod. Of course you’d say that - Jisung is your best friend after all, and you’ve grown quite close to Lina as well. You’re also good friends with Marie, but Jisung just wins this round - not that you’d ever tell that to his face, he’s too cocky as it is, no need to push his ego even more. “Then Minho, you take Hyunjin, Marie, Felix and Seungmin, and I take Y/N, Jisung, Lina and Jeongin, okay?”, Chan suggests, and everyone agrees. Five minutes later, all the bags are safely stored away and everyone has taken their seats. Being Chan’s girlfriend means you get to ride shotgun, something you’re more than thankful for, knowing how crowded the backseat is going to be once you’ve picked up Jisung and Lina. “See you in a bit!”, Felix yells through his open window, and flashes you his extremely cute gummy smile. You wave at him, immediately returning his smile, and successfully ignore Minho’s mock salute and cocky grin while he backs out of his parking spot, almost cutting Chan off.

Twenty minutes later, Jisung and Lina are squished into the backseat with Jeongin, all three having bright smiles on their faces. “Road trip, whoop!”, Jisung yells and gives you a high five, “Happy to have a few days with y’all before we have to face the sad reality of probably having failed most of our exams!” Lina beside him rolls her eyes. “Stop being so dramatic, I’m sure most of us will have aced everything.”, she says, and Jisung wraps his arm around her and kisses her temple. “Sorry, but I have literally only one functioning brain cell and I use it to overthink.”, he explains, yelping when she playfully tickles his side. You chuckle at their bickering, and hit play on your road trip playlist - a second later, Queen’s Bohemian Rhapsody fills the car, all of you immediately beginning to sing along. “LET’S GO!”, Chan yells over the sad attempts of everyone trying to imitate Freddy Mercury, and backs out of the parking lot. You smile and interlace your fingers with his. He cheekily returns your smile, and raises your intertwined hands to his lips to press a soft kiss against your knuckles. Over a year of being with him, but you still swoon over this simple yet sweet gesture. Yes, you’re just that whipped for your boyfriend, and what about it.

It doesn’t take long for you guys to arrive on the interstate, you and Jisung trying to trump each other's impressions of Beyoncé singing Single Ladies (and failing miserably, sorry Queen B). Your belly almost hurts from laughing with your friends, and you can’t wait for the rest of the weekend to begin.

Minho’s car arrives before Chan’s, and of course he’s gloating about it the second you guys join forces again. But you can let him have this small victory, and decide to just ignore him for now, helping Chan get the bags out of his car and to the campsite. It’s quite cold, the air crisp now that the sun is slowly beginning to set again, but you brought lots of blankets and sleeping bags, so you should be fine. And at least the weather means there aren’t any other campers here right now, so you have the whole area, including the washing rooms, to yourselves, which is nice.

Setting up camp takes longer than anticipated, mostly because Jisung somehow manages to crash into his and Lina’s almost finished tent twice, which means they have to start from the very beginning again. She truly has the patience of a saint, simply smacking him over the head rather playfully before picking up the sad remains of their tent to begin the whole building process again. Chan and you, having gone camping lots of times already, are quickest with finishing your tent, so afterwards you offer to help Jisung and Lina with theirs, while Chan does the same for Minho and Jeongin. Marie, an experienced scout, has set up hers and Hyunjin’s tent in record time as well, and takes pity on Felix and Seungmin, quickly building the tent for them. After an hour, your camp has successfully been built, and everyone begins to search for firewood.

Felix decides to make a giant pot of spicy chili sin carne for tonight’s dinner, and as soon as all the plates are filled, your conversations slowly dwindle down, everyone too busy with eating. “Lix, you’re a cooking genius, Gordon Ramsey found jobless.”, Marie says around a mouthful of chili, giving the blonde boy a bright smile and the thumbs up. He waves her compliment aside, blushing profoundly. “Thanks, but it’s honestly not that difficult - you just have to follow the recipe, if you’re too scared to improvise.”, he murmurs, and she throws a small piece of kindling at him. “You should really learn how to take compliments.”, she teases playfully, and he shrugs. “Okay, okay, I’m the best cook ever.”, he says sarcastically, and Minho raises one eyebrow. “Whoa, now don’t get ahead of yourself.”, he replies, and Felix smacks him over the head. “You can’t cook at all, so for once, you should just stay quiet.”, you say, and Minho sighs dramatically. “What can I say… We all have our weaknesses. I, for example, am extremely good-looking and tragically funny.”

You almost choke on your chili because of his audacity, and lift your fork in front of your face, staring through it and at Minho, who just frowns at you. “What are you doing? Why are you looking at me through your fork?”, he asks, obviously confused by your behavior, and you give him a lopsided smile. “I’m pretending you’re in jail, it’s spiritually healing.”, you explain, and Chan beside you bursts into laughter, the others following him quickly. Minho begins to pout and sticks out his tongue at you, always the mature one. “It’s okay if you don’t enjoy my dashing looks and hilarious humor, not everyone has good taste. That’s why you picked Chan over me after all.”, he claims, and you answer by throwing a piece of wood his way, making him squeal and dive for cover. Just then, the flames of your fire flicker and slowly begin to die down. Seungmin, Jeongin and Hyunjin stand up to go get some more firewood, but somehow, the latter one’s shoe gets caught between two logs and with a loud yelp, he tumbles to the ground. “What the Hell is he doing?!”, Chan groans, and Jeongin deadpans “Sadly his best.”, before he begins walking over towards his friend to help him, but Marie is faster, already dragging her boyfriend up from the ground with tears of laughter in her eyes. Hyunjin’s cheeks are red from embarrassment and he murmurs something about nature being out to get him, before he, Marie and the other two boys disappear into the forest to get more firewood.

The rest of the evening is filled with playful banter, soft guitar music from Jisung, and funny childhood stories. Lina soon begins to nod off, her head resting on her boyfriend’s shoulder while he continues to strum a soft tune on his guitar, humming along. When he notices his girlfriend is about to wander into Morpheus’ realm though, he’s quick to place the guitar back into its bag, and wraps both arms around her. “I think it’s time for us to retire, huh?”, he says, leaving a gentle kiss on Lina’s forehead. She blinks sleepily, and smiles up at him. “It’s pretty safe to assume that at any given moment, I want to go back to sleep - so yes, I agree, time to retire.”, she answers, and Jisung chuckles, before standing up to declare: “Well, we’re off to bed now!” Minho and Seungmin boo immediately, while Jeongin murmurs something like “Old people” under his breath - even though he’s literally only one year younger than most of you guys.

“So, as I’m legally required to kiss my homies goodnight, y’all getting some smooches!”, Jisung says, already walking towards where Hyunjin and Marie are sitting, bodies entangled and breaths mingling. Hyunjin looks up and shoots his friend a murderous look. “I swear, if you kiss me, I’m going to dump you into the river.”, he threatens, but Jisung just grins. “How about you dump your girlfriend instead and run away with me? We’d make such a pretty couple.”, he says, making Hyunjin roll his eyes. “Bro, no offense, but I’d be the pretty one in this relationship, and while everyone can clearly see you already have quite the experience being the ugly one in a relationship” with that, Hyunjin first points at Jisung and then at Lina, who bursts out laughing, “I don’t think I’m ready to hear your constant whining about my face being prettier than yours. So thanks, but no thanks, I’ll stay with Marie.” “Wow, I feel so honored and loved right now, babe.”, Marie says sarcastically, “But does this mean you think you’re the pretty one in this relationship as well?” Hyunjin goes into instant panic mode, quickly reassuring his girlfriend that she’s far prettier than him, while she tries to keep a stern expression on her face, but everyone can clearly see the way her lips twitch. She just loves teasing Hyunjin, and you honestly can’t blame her for that, especially not when it’s just so easy.

“Okay, goodnight, then!”, Lina interrupts their playful bickering, and gives everyone a soft smile, before dragging Jisung towards their tent. Everyone wishes them a good night and sweet dreams as well, and then Seungmin clears his throat. “Time for some ghost stories, don’t you think?”, he says, voice low and grin almost evil when his eyes find Hyunjin, who immediately falls silent. Everyone knows he’s a huge scaredy cat, which is quite funny seeing as his own girlfriend is a big fan of horror movies and stories. Truly a match made in Heaven. Seungmin just raises one eyebrow, expression challenging - but when no one contradicts him, he begins to tell his first ghost story.

It doesn’t take long until Hyunjin is pretty much sitting on Marie’s lap, shooting daggers at his friend while his girlfriend is trying very hard not to laugh at him. You yourself cuddle closer to your own boyfriend, smiling when he presses a soft kiss against your temple. Your eyes rest on the big bonfire, following some sparks drifting into the dark night sky from time to time, and you sigh contently. This, right here, is your happy place - in the midst of your friends, just laughing and joking with them, not a care in the world. Midterms lie behind you, and you’re currently not even thinking about your grades for once, your anxiety at rest. This trip was truly a great idea, maybe even Jisung’s best one so far.

“Okay, wanna hear a really creepy one-”, Seungmin begins, and Hyunjin has finally had enough, standing up and taking Marie’s hand into his. “Well, goodnight!”, he says, a determined expression on his face, and pulls his girlfriend towards their tent. Marie suppresses an amused smile at her boyfriend’s dramatics, and waves at everyone, before following him inside the tent. Seungmin just grins evilly and shrugs. “He’s so soft hearted.”, he then says, and leans back, obviously content with his work. “Okay, maybe it’s three demons, not only two.”, you murmur into Chan’s ear, and he chuckles. You’re always joking about Minho and Hyunjin being demons, as they’re constantly testing your nerves by just being themselves, plus they were definitely the main plotters behind the plan to get you and Chan together - not that you’re complaining about it as their plan had worked pretty perfectly and in your favor. “In the end you’ll probably find that I live with six demons.”, your boyfriend murmurs, and begins to play with your fingers. You shake your head. “Oh no, Felix is definitely an angel, not a demon.”, you disagree, and Chan nods. “Okay, that’s true. The others though… Well, time will tell, I guess.” “Or holy water.” He just laughs and gives you a quick peck on the lips. When you want to deepen the kiss, he draws back. “Later.”, he murmurs against your lips, his deep voice rumbling in his chest, and you shiver involuntarily. He grins at your reaction, before turning his attention to Seungmin’s new ghost story again.

You on the other hand feel hot and bothered all of the sudden, and decide to tease your boyfriend a bit. So you place your hand on his thigh, not moving it for some time, until you slowly slide it higher, bit by bit. At first, Chan doesn’t seem to notice or care, until you’re getting dangerously close to his crotch. Then, he quickly leans forward so the others can’t see what you’re doing, and glares at you. “What are you doing?”, he asks, voice low, and you smile innocently. “Nothing.”, you answer, and have finally reached your desired destination, slowly beginning to palm his semi over his jeans. “How about you be a good girl and stop?”, he breathes out, but you know he doesn’t actually want you to stop - you know him well enough for that by now. Still, you decide to play along. “Oh, I’ll gladly be your good girl.”, you whisper, and quickly withdraw your hand. He groans at your words and the sudden lack of contact, and locks eyes with you. “Tent. Now.”, he grits out, and stands up, pulling you with him and hugging you from behind so your body hides his erection from the others. “We’re tired too, so goodnight!”, he says in a fake cheerful voice, and you have to hide your shit-eating grin while innocently waving at the others. “Oh you’re in so much trouble now, babe.”, Chan murmurs into your ear while you walk towards your tent, and bites down on your lobe. You feel arousal gather between your legs, stomach jolting at his words. You and Chan have a very playful relationship, full of bantering and loving jokes, and your dynamic in the bedroom isn’t that different - there’s a lot of bickering too, you being a total brat at times, while he’s more on the dominant side, enjoying making you obedient.

As soon as he closes the tent behind you and turns around to watch you with an almost predatory gaze, you know you might have been a bit too forward at the bonfire. But it’s too late to back down now, so you simply raise both eyebrows, a challenging expression on your face. “So you think touching me like that in front of our friends is okay?”, Chan asks, his voice low and dark. You tilt your head to one side. “I mean, you didn’t seem opposed to it, to be honest.”, you answer, and now he’s the one to lift both eyebrows. “I want you out of your clothes, now.”, your boyfriend orders, and for once, you follow his command immediately, knowing this is for your own good this time. So you quickly wiggle out of your jeans and take off your jumper, shivering in the cold night air. Only left in your panties and bra, Chan smirks to himself, before crawling over your body and beginning to kiss you slowly. You gasp into his mouth when one of his warm hands finds your waist, drawing lazy circles against it, before traveling higher to cup your breast over your bra. His thumb rubs over your clothed nipple before pinching it, hard, and you arch your back, breath hitching.

“So, let’s see how quiet you can stay while I eat you out, hm? Remember, the walls of the tent are too thin to mask any noises.”, Chan whispers against your lips, before he suddenly descends down your body. Oh no, you know you’re screwed. He’ll try to make you scream his name, but while you’re quite open about sex and have no problem talking about it with your friends, you definitely don’t need them to hear you during the actual act. Maybe you shouldn’t have teased your boyfriend after all - but it’s too late now, he’s determined. He spreads your legs, and begins to leave soft love bites on the inside of your thighs. You’re trembling already, and it’s not because of the cold alone. Chan always has this effect on you, no matter how often he touches you - you’ll never get used to it. He plays with the hem of your panties, until he finally drags them down your legs, his warm breath hitting your wet core. You begin to squirm, impatient to have him finally touch you where you need him most. He smacks your thigh, the crack resounding through the tent, and you yelp. “Chan.”, you hiss, and he grins cheekily, before suddenly pressing his thumb to your clit, beginning to draw lazy circles against it. Your eyes roll into the back of your head and you clamp one hand over your mouth to mask any noises.

Chan soon replaces his thumb with his mouth, sucking on your clit like his life depends on it while simultaneously sliding two fingers inside your heat. A loud moan tears from your lips and you bite the inside of your cheek, trying to stifle your noises but already failing miserably. You feel Chan smirk against you, and then, he slips a third finger inside you, curling them upwards and picking up the pace. You buck your hips against his gentle ministrations, skin feeling too hot and too tight already, goosebumps rising all over your body. It doesn’t take long until you begin to tremble, your high approaching rather quickly, and you’re this close to finally snapping, when Chan draws back from your core, face glistening with your juices, his smirk almost devilish. “I can’t hear you, babe, are you even enjoying this?”, he murmurs, back to drawing lazy patterns on your clit with his thumb. You feel frustration wash over you, and shoot him a dark glare. His grin gets even wider, before he completely withdraws his hand from your heat to suck on his glistening fingers. You close your eyes for a few seconds, trying to gather your wits, until Chan slaps your thigh again. “Look at me, baby.”, he says, voice dark, and your eyes snap open again. You begin to pout. “Please.”, you mumble, trying your best to appeal to his softer side, “I’m sorry I was a brat earlier. You know I can’t be loud or the others might hear us.” Your boyfriend just hums, hands ghosting over your thighs and leaving goosebumps in their wake. “Too bad, I guess you can’t cum tonight then.” And before you’re able to reply anything, he dives back in-between your folds.

You throw one arm over your mouth, and bite your own soft flesh to suppress any noises. It takes little to no time until you’re close to your orgasm again, but for the second time tonight, Chan draws back in the last possible second. You’re almost ready to cry with frustration now, eyes glistening with unshed tears. When your boyfriend sees this, he softens a bit and leans towards you to press a gentle kiss to your lips. “This is what you get for being a brat.”, he murmurs, and you bite down on his lower lip, making him groan into your mouth. “Please.”, you whisper and try your best puppy eyes on him. He just smirks again, finally ridding himself off his shirt, jeans and underwear. When he’s fully naked in front of you, you sigh, eyes raking his beautiful, defined body. Unlike you, Chan actually enjoys going to the gym - and his effort pays off. “Stop drooling.”, he says, sounding way too pleased and cocky in your opinion. So you quickly sit up, and wrap one hand around his hard cock, already leaking with pre-cum. Good to see you’re not the only one being affected by this, you think and grin. You begin to slowly jerk him off, spreading the pre-cum over the rest of his cock as lube. He groans, lower lip pulled back between his teeth and eyes almost black with desire. Finally, he’s had enough, and pushes you on your back again, hovering over you. “There’s condoms in the bag behind you.”, he murmurs, leaving gentle kisses on your neck until he finds your sweet spot, beginning to suck on it. You moan almost inaudible, fingers fumbling for said bag to retrieve a condom.

Just seconds later, Chan rolls it over his cock, and then, he aligns himself in front of your wet core, teasingly rubbing your clit before you shoot him a pleading look. He finally sheathes himself into you with one swift motion, and you both moan out loud at the feeling. You quickly cough to cover the noise, making Chan chuckle and press a kiss against your forehead. “You’re okay?”, he asks, and you nod, biting down on his neck and leaving a hickey. He groans and finally begins to move, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back into you, immediately hitting that spot. Your fingers wrap around his biceps, needing something to hold onto while he drills into you. Suddenly, he pulls out of you to sit back on his knees, wrapping your legs around his hips, and thrusts back into you at an even deeper angle, simultaneously picking up the pace. One of his hands snakes towards your neck and he wraps his fingers around the base of your throat, using just enough pressure to make breathing harder for you. When his thumb begins to circle your clit again, you close your eyes, clamping one hand over your mouth to mask your almost obscene noises.

“C-Chan, I’m so c-close.”, you say in between two moans, and he grins, murmuring a “That’s my girl” under his breath before deepening the angle even more. He suddenly pinches your clit once, and that’s all it takes for you to finally tumble over the edge, his name leaving your lips maybe a bit too loud this time. He quickly leans forward to seal your mouth with his, chasing his own high while guiding you through yours. Not long after, he groans and presses his forehead against yours, shuddering a bit while releasing into the condom. He stills inside you, both your breaths mingling, hearts beating fast while you try to come down from your high. Chan smiles, brushing some of your hair out of your face, and gives you a soft, sweet kiss. “I love you.”, he murmurs, and you return his smile. “Love you more.”, you whisper back, and he chuckles. “Impossible.”

Before you can begin to playfully argue, Minho’s voice cuts through the night “Next time we’ll build the tents far away from each other, y’all are nasty for doing it with us sitting almost right next you.” Both you and Chan freeze, before you burst out laughing. “WE HAVE ZERO REGRETS.”, you yell back, hearing the others groan. “WELL, YOU REALLY SHOULD THOUGH!”, Jisung complains from somewhere to your left, and you hear Lina starting to giggle. You groan and bury your face into Chan’s neck. “They’ll never let us hear the end of this, will they.”, you murmur against his soft skin, and he shakes his head. “Nope.” You sigh and lean back. “Well, it was still worth it.”, you say, and grin up at him. Your boyfriend just smirks and leans down to kiss you again. “Oh, definitely.”

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malfoymuch · 4 years

Text

“Rivals Don’t Look At Rivals That Way” [draco x reader]

Pairing; Draco x Reader

Genre; ANGST with some fluff?

Prompt/Inspiration: (Song) “THAT WAY” by Tate McRae

Word Count: 2,650+

A/n: Hey, hope everyone’s doing okay so far? I also hope everyone stays safe and does well!!! I’m currently back for the time being, so we’ll see what happens. I might make a part 2 but I’m not really sure? Anyway, thank you so much and I hope you enjoy it!!!

Please note that I did skip a chunk of the song, other than that hope you like it!!

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Run me in circles

Like you always do

Mess with me on purpose

So I'll hang onto you

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You didn’t know when it initially began, but something was brewing between you and Malfoy, you could feel it, and it wasn’t the excessive squabbling and resentment the both of you had since first-year.

Being in your fifth year now, you managed to hold a title for yourself, of being a refined, young individual; a wizard with a bright future amongst themselves. The impression of you given to the younger years had made you smirk from time-to-time, being someone to never double-cross. It came in handy often.

That, and your long-lasting quarrel with acclaimed Slytherin Prince, Draco Malfoy. Everyone knew about your needless banters, leading to a decent amount of detention in Professor Snape’s classroom. Honestly, you were quite surprised you had such an incredible influence given the number of times being punished for your careless actions in class with the Slytherin classmate.

Weirdly, the two of you couldn’t exactly pinpoint when things began to form into something else… something new.

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I know what you mean when you act like that

You don't know it's breaking my heart

Said that it was just never gonna happen

Then almost kissed me in the dark

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It was a blur.

It was an accident.

It was something that wouldn’t lead to anything good…

You tried to convince yourself for days, weeks…

You didn’t know what it was, maybe something that happened in the heat of the moment… but you distinctly remember being up at the astronomy tower and gazing at the stars, while the rest of your house was getting into serious trouble with the others.

But out of nowhere, you saw Draco sitting next to you, nonchalantly. Not one sarcastic comment or insult, just the two of you admiring the starry night sky. Carefully exchanging short little glances at one another, not saying a word, but noticing the reflection of the luminescent specks on the two of you.

Then, it happened.

You both happened to look into each other’s eyes, and the world seemed to stop. Neither of you had turned away, just continuing to heavily stare into the other’s alluring irises, and began to lean closer to one another. Slowly, centimeter by centimeter, the two of you continued the action until you were merely an inch away from each other’s lips, noses brushing the others.

The barely noticeable spots across Draco’s face made your face tint, the tiniest imperfections were magnified being so close to him-- but to you, they weren’t blemishes, it made him normal. And sometimes normal was exceptional; time seemed to stand still for who knows how long, but it was something you weren’t sure whether to push.

It was like a sudden spark was about to be lit, a flame awaiting to kindle.

And then just like that, it diminished.

A sudden creak of the door broke Draco out of the trance and move backward, pale and wide-eyed as he stared at your figure. He bit his lip and opened his move in an attempt to say something, but closed it shut moments after. His captivating eyes had a subtle glare, making a feeling growing inside of you that perhaps, it was more than a rivalry. But just as you were going to question him, he ran.

Let’s say you were both heartbroken and confused that night.

And maybe he was too.

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Every time we talk it just hurts so bad

'Cause I don't even know what we are

I don't even know where to start

But I can play the part

-----------------------------------------------------

Since then, it was hard to stand seeing him at all. Walking through the corridor, teasing the other houses with his colleagues, working in class, and especially when he was chatting with Pansy; watching as she clung to him. Through all your years of seeing them, you would’ve thought that Draco felt suffocated or trapped with the action, but now, it looked like he lived for it. Openly accepted her gestures of affection, ones he used to immediately refuse…

He even returned her actions sometimes, casually wrapping his arm over her shoulders, or greeting her politely in the evening as they walked to the dining hall.

You came to the conclusion that you liked him, a lot. Maybe even loved him. You didn’t know what was the difference between the two, but you didn’t think having a simple crush would’ve affected you this badly. To notice his little quirks that made you grin-- the way he ruffled his hair when he was frustrated-- when he had a hard time in class he’d sometimes puff out one side of his cheek or bite his lip-- or the way his eyes glint with strong emotions constantly.

His insults didn’t always happen anymore, instead, it was more of a war of silent expression (facial/body posture). When they did come, you still returned with a curt, wise response… but it wasn’t the same. ‘Cause it seemed that the little things he began to insult you with started to affect you.

Not vastly, but the occasional twist and tug of your heart did hurt.

Especially when you knew that maybe it was true.

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We say we're friends

But I'm catching you across the room

It makes no sense

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Next thing you knew, another incident happened. You would feel his stares from across the classroom. Now, most people would say he was just sending a glare and not paying attention, given he might snap at them next.

But you knew differently.

Not all stares were vicious, menacing glares. In fact, a lot of them seemed to just be of him staring at you, lost in thought. Hopeful. Doubtful. Guilty.

They all ranged and altered so quickly that it was impossible to identify the logic in his mind. After some time of you staring back, he seemed to always recover seconds later, flushed and staring back at the professor. Or muttering something under his breath before sneakily harassing another student.

You would’ve confronted him for it, had it not been that fleeting thought of what it could’ve meant. And confronting him in the matter might’ve shattered both the thought and you (again).

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'Cause we're fighting over what we do

And there's no way

That I'll end up being with you

But friends don't look at friends that way

Friends don't look at friends that way

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It was announced suddenly. Draco and Pansy had gotten into a nasty fight with one another, leading up to Pansy striking Draco across the face and screaming utter nonsense for the next few days. To be fair, you didn’t know she had the will to actually hit him, but surprise surprise.

Weirdly, Pansy didn’t seem eager to proclaim to the world why they broke up suddenly, letting students just create their own impractical outline of their relationship. The biggest being swarmed around was him cheating or having another sidekick, though Draco dismissed them.

Hope entangled your mind. The possibility was now an option, it could be a reality. Constantly fighting with your anxiety, a never-ending struggle with your mentality. In the end, anxiety won. It seemed to always win these days.

Draco may no longer with someone now, but that didn’t mean he’d go for you, now did it?

Didn’t mean you had a chance… didn’t mean he would suddenly take interest in you either.

You’d brokenly laugh at yourself afterward, thinking about how hypocritical it was to be picturing yourself when him and then being disgusted with other students for doing it as well.

Just what was becoming of you?

-----------------------------------------------------

You stared at him longingly, causing your house to interrogate your sudden fascination with someone (they didn’t exactly know, but had a clue). One thing led up to another, rumors among you and Draco began to stir like no tomorrow.

You became the talk-of-the-town even more, as well as Draco. Students would randomly question you about your relationship status as you passed by them-- asked if you fancied Draco or were going out with him-- hell, even the professors questioned your day and life. It was much too hectic for you, especially in a time of complete and utter stress.

It was too much. The attention didn’t make you happier, because, in the end, you know, the person who they talked about wouldn’t care, or be with you.

But you still denied all allegations, wondering what dreadful response Draco would’ve made towards you in comparison. Probably a crude, rude response that would’ve left any person cry right then and there. So for the time being, you managed to deflect people’s questions and Draco’s responses to them.

-----------------------------------------------------

Can't even tell if

I love or hate you more

You've got me addicted

And I can't tell who's keeping score

-----------------------------------------------------

Soon it seemed things returned back to normal in a month’s time. The rumors died down and Draco’s bantering increased per usual, the two of you were at it all over again as if your agony never occurred in the first place. Displaying a mask upon your face seemed to be a normal occurrence nowadays.

Students soon neglected the idea that Draco could possibly be infatuated with you, considering how much the two of you bickered in all of your shared classes. To the world, it seemed that everyone and everything had returned back to normal…

Though on the inside, you were slowly crumbling away. It seemed really stupid to you, an over-exaggeration of feelings infusing together-- and you just didn’t know how to calm your paranoid nerves.

-----------------------------------------------------

We say we're friends

But I'm catching you across the room

It makes no sense

'Cause we're fighting over what we do

-----------------------------------------------------

You had a little randevú with Dean Thomas, and to be completely honest-- it made you felt absolutely wrong. Dean Thomas was an extremely good-looking student, with an awestruck personality (believe it or not), but it just didn’t feel right. And you were almost positive he felt the same, considering while talking to you, he’d occasionally bring up another girl he’s been crushing on for ages.

So one thing led to another, you two ended up like best friends, secretly discussing and plotting scenarios of how to get the other one (though most of the time, you were helping Dean). In a way, Dean became a noteworthy therapist, expressing your hindrance was beneficial.

But someone else thought a lot differently about the two of you.

-----------------------------------------------------

And there's no way

That I'll end up being with you

But friends don't look at friends that way

Friends don't look at friends that way

-----------------------------------------------------

Things seemed to become weird again. Honestly, at this point in time, you were wondering if this cycle was going to become a normal routine. This time, Draco stopped with mocking and just stared; a mixture between ogling and a glower… you couldn’t stand it anymore.

As your last class finished you darted across the room and jerked Draco out of his seat, hauling him around to who knows where; anger seemed to only raise more as the students around began to stir trouble, whether teasing or whispering to themselves. With a deadpan stare, most students’ voices died down only instantly.

“(Y/N), where the hell are you taking me?”

You couldn’t answer, because you didn’t know. Scanning through your options, you realized most options wouldn’t be best, considering the amount of blabbing students were roaming. Frustration only seemed to grow before the conclusion came to mind that the library would suit best.

It wasn’t specifically a place of solitude, but it wouldn’t be swarmed with different houses, just a series of Ravenclaws you were too engrossed in novels to realize what was happening-- or a Hufflepuff studying. To be fair, you’d much rather let a Hufflepuff overhear anything among the two of you than another chatterbox (especially Slytherin and Gryffindor.)

Giving a final yank, you gazed at the Slytherin Prince stumble forward and back to his feet, before scowling.

“Bloody hell, (Y/N). If you wanted my attention you could’ve just asked. Didn’t need to make a scene,” he fumed, staring at his surroundings. You would’ve made a remark about him for the look he gave being in a library but held back. That wasn’t important, what’s about to happen definitely is.

“Shut up, Malfoy. You deserved it anyway, after all of the nonsense I’ve had to go because of you.” You retorted, shocked that the words just slithered from your mouth. Bad habits seem to die hard. Draco didn’t seem happy at all with your statement.

“Because of me? Me? Darling, you don’t even know the amount of trouble you’ve given me…” he spat back, “And then you throw this little stunt that’s sure to bring me more trouble than ever--”

“What are we?” You blurted out accidentally, the question that’s been racking your mind finally spilling out of the blue. Draco seemed to freeze at your question, stunning him from forming any coherent sentences to come through.

“I mean it, Draco… what are we at this point?” Staring at the ground, you flinched when Draco gained consciousness of the situation, erupting in laughter.

“What are you talking about? Have you lost your mind, (Y/N)? Must’ve hit your head, ‘cause there is nothing between us. We’re nothing more than rivals--”

“Rivals that caught each other’s stares from across the classroom? From across the foyer? The garden?” You queried, examing for a definitive emotion stirring up within him.

“Right, before we throw insults at each other--”

“Do rivals stare into each other’s eyes?”

“Of course, it’s called a glare--”

“Do rivals almost kiss?” Draco’s breath hitched at the question, turning away and running his fingers across the spines of the books. His bangs seemed to cover his eyes as he looked down at your figure, a sinister smirk on his face.

“It wasn’t a kiss.” He said brazenly, crossing his arms over his chest, leaning against the bookcase for support. You huffed annoyedly, “Oh yeah? Look me in the eyes and tell me that you don’t think anything of me. That that night, wasn’t going to lead to a kiss, and we really are just rivals…”

“I don’t think anything of you, we weren’t going to kiss and we are just rivals--”

“Look me in the eye and say it Draco!” You demanded viciously, taking a step closer to him. “Look me in the eye, and tell me truly if I mean nothing to you.”

“Why are you so keen so knowing what I think of you? Shouldn’t you be asking Thomas this? Perhaps asking him these types of questions?” You did a double-take at that statement, blinking a few times.

“This has nothing to do with Dean, Draco. We aren’t together. I just want you to tell me the truth--”

“The truth is we’re rivals! Maybe even considered friends! Always have been! What led you to become so determined to discover what you mean to me--”

“Because rivals (friends) don’t look at rivals (friends) the way we do!” You barked at him, water threatening to spill from the corner of your eyes as you rammed a hand to his chest.

“Rivals don’t look at rivals that way… rivals aren’t supposed to feel jealous when the others dating someone else…” you droned on, ignoring the look of astonishment Draco had. “I don’t think we’re rivals, because if we were, then I’ve read everything wrong. And so are my feelings…”

So you looked back up to him teary-eyed, clutching his robes and pulling him closer to you.

“Tell me the truth, I want to know whether or not there was a possibility we have something… tell me if you feel absolutely nothing so I can stop-- there’s no point of me continuing on if nothing’s going to happen so tell me, Draco. Do rivals look at rivals that way?”

----

part two?

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buckyodinson · 4 years

Text

Care for a Dance? (Agent Whiskey x fem!Reader)

Summary: You and Whiskey have feelings for each other, but neither of you have done anything about it. Perhaps a Statesman party can help the pair of you admit what you’re feeling.

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: I have no idea if the Kingsman fandom is still active at all but I keep seeing pictures of Whiskey pop up everywhere (not that I’m complaining), and I got an idea for a fic and it just kinda happened? This takes place after Kingsman: The Golden Circle, and we’re just gonna ignore the fact that he was kinda a bad guy and got shoved into a meat grinder :)

The Statesmen were having a party at the distillery to celebrate a successful year in the alcohol market - and obviously the success of the agency, but as far as anyone outside the agency was concerned, this was just a distillery. The party was happening in the warehouse with all the barrels of the Statesmen’s famed drink lined against the walls. The warehouse was adorned with warm string lights, which gave it a rustic feel. It reminded you of a barn dance that kids sometimes have in middle school.

A night filled with dancing, fun and alcohol (naturally) was promised, and you were all encouraged to dress to the nines, knowing the following Monday you’d all be back to your denim or suits. Champ told you all the make the most of the fun, because it’d probably be a long while before you all had the chance to let loose again.

Lots of shareholders in the company were going to be there, as well as you and the rest of the Statesman agents. Even the Kingsmen were invited, and you were thrilled to see Eggsy and Harry again. Though you were more excited about having Tequila back for a short while. The distillery was a lot more quiet without the banter he always provided. You especially loved the way him and Whiskey would bicker (little did you know, their bickering was often over you). But most importantly, you’d see Whiskey himself. You tried not to fall for him, you really did, but it was to no avail. He was known to be a bit of a womanizer, but he was nothing but sweet around you. You hadn’t noticed, but since he took a liking to you, his days of bringing a new girl home every week were gone. You were looking forward to letting your hair down and having a few drinks with Whiskey and the others.

Whiskey wasn’t as excited about the night as you were. He would be happy to see Eggsy and Harry, sure, but he could do without having Tequila back. Truth be told, Whiskey had developed feelings for you during the years you’d worked together, and he’d never acted on them. You were a fair bit younger than him, and he was sure you didn’t feel the same. He bickered with Tequila a lot about you, because Tequila always seemed like he wanted to make a move on you.

While Whiskey didn’t think he was good enough for you, he certainly didn’t think Tequila was either. He wouldn’t admit to himself that he was jealous, but he just didn’t like the way Tequila looked at you… and spoke to you… and made little passing touches… okay, maybe he was a little jealous. But who could blame him? You were one of the highest ranking agents with the Statesmen, you were highly skilled and ridiculously attractive and a valuable asset to the agency. He wanted so desperately to be the one laying next you at night, whispering sweet nothings into you ear.

Once Tequila had left to join the Kingsmen, Whiskey felt a little better about testing the waters around you. He would ramp up the flirting, laying pet names on you all day long. You blushed profusely whenever he called you doll, or angel, or sugar, or practically anything that wasn’t your real name or code name. You would give as good as you got, flirting back, complimenting him on his new hat or boots or just his general appearance. Once, when you and the others were at a bar, you were leaned against the bar next to him and you idly ran your finger down the bridge of his nose sweetly, and told him it was cute. You were a tad tipsy and immediately excused yourself to the bathroom, completely embarrassed about this action, but while you spent a minute composing yourself in the bathroom, Whiskey was at the bar blushing to himself and smiling softly at the compliment. He steeled himself when you returned though, and you carried on with your evening, both refusing to acknowledge what had happened.

He was one of the first of the agents to arrive at the warehouse for the party. Music hummed throughout the place and he took up a spot at the bar, waiting for you to arrive. Tonight was the night he’d finally man up and ask you out on a date. He twirled his glass nervously, running through hundreds of scenarios in his head. He was lost in his thoughts, and didn’t notice Tequila approaching him, until the man thumped him on the back.

“Whiskey! Looking good! How’ve you been?” He exclaimed loudly, with a smile on his face, pulling Whiskey in for a hug.

Whiskey gave him a few thumps on the back in return and pulled away, “Not too bad, Tequila. Nothing much has changed over here. How’s London treating you?”

“It’s going alright over there. The ladies are suckers for the accent, which is always nice. Plus, got myself a bit of a makeover.” He stepped back and Whiskey took in his appearance, noting that Tequila was wearing a full suit, which was an exceptional rarity. He also had a flat cap on, in replacement of his trademark Stetson. Whiskey gave him a curt nod in approval and Tequila finally propped himself up on a stool next to Whiskey.

He flagged the bartender and was given a drink immediately, and he took a sip before turning back to Whiskey, “Speaking of ladies, how’s my favourite little firecracker?”

He didn’t even have to say your name, but Whiskey’s jaw clenched, and that was all the answer that Tequila needed, “Still haven’t made a move then? She too upset about me leaving?” He pressed and could see he was winding Whiskey up.

“Haven’t found the right moment. Yet.” He spoke curtly and downed his drink, waving at the bartender for another. Tequila raised his hands in mock surrender, “Well, you’ve got no competition from me anymore, partner. Like I said, the girls back in London love me.”

The pair were joined by Harry and Eggsy, who they chatted with for a while. Whiskey couldn’t really concentrate on the conversation though, he was just waiting for you to turn up. His wish was granted only a few minutes later, when he saw you walk through the warehouse doors. You looked up at the string lights and smiled softly at them, before looking around and your gaze landing on Whiskey. Your smile widened and you made your way over to him, and he was floored by how stunning you looked. You were in an almost floor-length black dress, with a slit down one leg that came halfway up your thigh. The dress had a plunging neckline and long sleeves. You had very natural looking make-up on, and your hair looked as it did most days at work, kept back but with a few stray bits of hair framing your face. To Whiskey, though, you looked ethereal. He thought you always looked beautiful regardless of what you wore, but tonight you looked outstanding.

As you approached him, you noticed the way he drank in your appearance, and jokingly gave him a twirl, giggling as you did so - which made his heart flip in his chest. The way he looked at you made you blush (as it did most days, let’s be honest), and you couldn’t help but feel a little shy when you finally reached him.

“Darlin’, you look exquisite.” He marveled and pulled you into a tight embrace. You blushed even further at the compliment and buried your face into the crook of his neck before pulling away and taking in his appearance too.

“You don’t look so bad yourself, cowboy.” He still had his trademark Stetson on, but was wearing black trousers and a velvety black blazer. A little bow tie at the top of his white shirt set the outfit off perfectly. You straightened the bow tie absentmindedly, noticing it had gotten a little crooked from your hug.

“If you took that hat off, you’d look just like James Bond.” You smirked at him as your hand idly ran down the lapel of his blazer before dropping it to your side once more.

“Is that so?” He smirked right back at you, before flagging the bartender down for drinks for the both of you. You chatted idly for a minute or so before Tequila bounded over and enveloped you in a hug. You laughed as he span you around in the air, and you hit him on the back, making him put you back down on the ground.

“Look at you in your fancy little flat cap,” you tease, and Whiskey smirks into his glass. “London has changed you, Tequila.”

“I’m still little ol’ me, just a bit more dapper. Can’t get away with denim jackets as a Kingsman.” He still has a hand wrapped around you waist as he speaks to you, and Whiskey can’t help but notice. “You look great, Rum.”

“You look good too,” you wink up at him and elbow him in the side softly. “I trust you haven’t been missing us too much? I’m sure the ladies have been throwing themselves at your feet with that accent of yours.”

“Naturally,” He smirks and you roll your eyes. “I have missed you guys though. You oughta come to London sometime.”

“Sure thing.” You pat him on the arm and he goes away to catch up with some other agents and eventually starts dancing in the middle of the warehouse, making an impromptu dance floor, which other people begin to join.

You and Whiskey lean back against the bar and watch the scene unfold, laughing at Eggsy and Tequila making fools of themselves on the dance floor. Everyone is at least a little tipsy by now. You lean slightly into Whiskey’s side, and rest your head atop his shoulder. He can feel his heart hammering in his chest, and prays to god you can’t feel it (you can, but you don’t think much of it, not wanting to get your hopes up). The pair of you stay like this for a while in comfortable silence, just enjoying being in one another’s company.

A familiar song hums through the speakers and you abruptly drain your glass, put it down and stand away from the bar, grabbing his free hand, “Care for a dance?”

“I’m not much of a dancer, sugar.” He raises an eyebrow. You tug on his hand a little, but he doesn’t budge.

You pout a little but let go nonetheless, “Suit yourself!” You sway over to the dance floor where you’re welcomed with cheers from Eggsy and Tequila.

Whiskey curses himself mentally, missing your hand in his. He watches as Tequila spins you around the dance floor and the pair of you giggle, Eggsy laughing alongside you. He should’ve just gone with you, maybe that could’ve been his chance to make a move.

Oh I, I got a funny feelin’ when she walked in the room

And I, as I recall, it ended much too soon.

The lyrics of the song hit him in the face, and like you’d done only a minute earlier, he downed his drink and followed your path to the dance floor. Tequila and Eggsy saw him coming and both gave him a wink before moving away from you.

“Care for a dance, doll?” He spoke softly, and you whipped round to face him.

“Thought you weren’t much of a dancer, Jack.” You smiled softly as his hands found their way to your waist.

“I’m not, but I’d be an idiot to miss out on this. I’ve wanted you for so long, and tonight finally made me realise maybe you wanted me too. ” He leaned down to rest his forehead against yours.

You couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across your face, and you placed your hands on either side of his neck. You swayed together for a moment before you leaned up and closed the gap between the pair of you, pressing your lips together. Whiskey immediately kissed you back, with passion, and you both pulled away when you heard your fellow agents cheering and hollering.

You both turned to look at the group gathered by the bar. Tequila was giving you a thumbs up, Eggsy was making an obscene gesture with his hands, and the rest of the agents raised their glasses at you and cheered again. You turned to face Jack again, and placed your hand on his cheek to bring his attention back to you before giggling. You repeated your action from months ago, running your finger down his nose. This time you saw the reaction it gained from the usually suave man in front of you. A blush crept up his neck and a shy smile adorned his features. You leaned up to peck the end of his nose and he laughed. Then you swept his Stetson off of his head and placed it on your own.

Then you moved back and ran your hands down his arms until your hands were entwined, and then you let him twirl you about the dance floor for a few more songs before you went back to the bar for more drinks. He kept a tight grip on your waist as you stood at the bar, and you could tell that being slotted into his side was going to become your new favourite place to be.

“I’m glad you finally admitted how you felt, Jack. It was getting a tad boring waiting for you to make a move.” You smirked up at him, with a hand at the nape of his neck, idly playing with his hair.

“You could’ve made a move yourself, princess.”

“Yeah, I could’ve. But you’re the one constantly laying on the pet names and suggestive comments. Only felt right to let you carry on charming me until you were ready to admit how you felt.” You leaned up to kiss him again.

“Sugar, you’re the one who called me cute all those months ago. Practically throwing yourself at me.” He joked against your lips as he pulled away.

You gasped and mocked offence, before giggling into his chest. “You are cute, I’ll give you that.”

“You’re much cuter, doll. Especially in my hat. Ravishing, even.” He could feel you smile against his chest.

“Is that so?” You echoed his earlier statement.

“Yes, ma’am. I’m wondering what you’d look like in only that, if I’m being honest with myself.” He smirked, but when you didn’t reply instantly, he wondered if he’d crossed a line.

Then you leaned back and looked up at him with a sultry look on your face, “Funny, I was just thinking the same about you and your bow tie. Wanna get out of here?”

“I’ve never wanted anything more, angel.” You kiss him once more and he lets you drag him out of the warehouse, only having enough time to catch Eggsy making the same sexual gesture as earlier, to which he replied with a middle finger.

#agent whiskey x reader #jack daniels x reader #kingsman #kingsman: the golden circle #agent whiskey fic #agent whiskey imagine #agent whiskey x fem!reader #pedro pascal x reader

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atinybitofau · 4 years

Text

[PART 3] S A N ⇲ royal series AU

RECAP: san is king of eden, you’re queen of elos under one nation with 7 other lone kings. still on a forced bonding retreat with king san, you arrive to the kingdom of aurora under mingi and seonghwa’s advisement. Though that advisement becomes a little moreso...

• series masterlist •

⇩ PART THREE ⇩ click me to read part two.

“Welcome to Aurora!”

You’ve been here countless times and sometimes you forget how far away each Kingdom is from one another. Though Mingi and you are close, you only ever see each other on days that allow.

You’re escorted out of the carriage and greet Aurora’s people kindly. King San was known for his nobility and close riches to Mingi’s kingdom so people do diligence to pay their respects. It wasn’t show stopping either that they seemed happy to both your visits.

The three of you enter the castle grounds of which Mingi stayed, his hand maid handing him a scroll of tasks.

“First things first.” The taller man clapped his hands. “Let’s get changed for cropping. Rice— a team building exercise Seonghwa has recommended for the both of you.”

“I own no land in my kingdom to mill rice, Mingi.” You rubbed at your temples. “This is unnecessary.”

“Au contraire mademoiselle,” he speaks to you in French for no apparent reason. “It’s important to keep humble and learn trades of other kingdoms. And see? King San has no objections and you should follow in his footsteps.”

“He’s walking to the bathroom.”

“Not literally!”

You chuckle. “Fine. But if I break a nail milling rice today in your territory, Song Mingi, so help me god I will rip you up.”

“You have my word, your highness.”

Upon changing for the task at hand, you tie up your perm in a messy bun and hold a basket to your hip with the milling tools required. Milling rice couldn’t be that hard. And corsets and silk may be a little constricting working with dirt and plants. You liked to keep modesty in your standards though you hold high social class. And your soldiers saw nothing of it, used to you in particular choice of silk. The other kingdoms men seemed wary by your choice of scrap clothes and whisper empty gossips to each other while Mingi gawks.

“People may get the wrong idea, Queen y/n.” He hurries to your side as you prance around his garden unscathed. “Your highness, maybe you should—“

“Let them whisper about, Mingi.” You wave him off picking tomatoes and eggplants off their stems for supper later. “It’s meaningless words anyway. They mean no harm. It’s important to keep.. humble.”

The red blushes at your mimicry. “Y-yes but don’t you think—“

“I think nothing of it.” You shrug him off looking to a young woman behind him. “Take these to the kitchen and cook up a marvelous soup for us tonight. Make enough for plenty, please.”

The maiden that follows Mingi smiles in a curt bow before taking what you requested not even waiting for the dismissal of her King. Mingi groans in response attempting at it again.

“People may assume you are too humble, your highness.”

“Well husking rice would ruin satin.” You breeze him off as a just-as-humble looking San joined you in a matching brown weaved outfit. “And it seems that I’m not the only one to think so.”

San, in the middle of tying his pants, bows hastily at the both of us. “I hope I didn’t keep you both waiting too long.”

Mingi face palms at that. “Let’s just begin. Before anyone else starts thinking I’m the one not humble enough.”

The lot of you started husking, it coming fairly easily to you though San seemed to be having trouble keeping the rice separate from the husks, lots of bits and pieces falling out. Mingi left to do his bidding being at his own Kingdom, leaving two foreign nobles in the watchful eye of his subordinate. San picked up good things and had enough individuality to adapt well. Although keeping gentle hands was not something he was good at being a King who also lead his soldiers in battle.

You sigh dusting off your dress, rushing over behind San. “With those hands, you’ll lose all your kernels of rice.”

You lace your fingers in his, his body tensing underneath you. “Never been embraced by a woman before?”

“Not from behind.”

Cheeks flaming at his sexual taunt, you help him ease his fingers nonetheless, tossing the basket lightly in your intertwined hands.

“It takes a delicate touch to separate the bad and the good.” You mumble behind him.

While slowly loosening your fingers around his, you find that he was doing it on his own. More attent on your help than anything else.

“Do you always help men like this or is this just going to be an us thing?”

Finally standing from your spot to cock a hand to your hip. A position you found natural around his attitude. “No, I don’t do this with other men. And no, this is not going to be an us thing.”

“Am I interrupting?”

A throat cleared from behind you and a guilty feeling boils as if you were just caught doing something bad. While Mingi’s glaring holes at San, you definitely can’t help the guilty feeling at all.

“I was only helping him.” You defend walking towards Mingi’s strong stance.

“Yeah by caressing my—“

“Is there something you should be telling me, Queen y/n?” Mingi whispers leaning down to you with fury blatant in his eyes. “First you wander off to search for San in an empty field. You two clearly past wanting to be well acquainted, now I’m finding you arms around him like a Shakespearean play with no script.”

You sigh. “Nothing is going on between San and I.”

“Well it sure looks like it!”

Mingi looks back at the King behind you who still seemed out of touch, talking mindlessly with the mentor before you’re being dragged out by none other than Song Mingi himself. You find yourself trudging in hesitation shocked by his sudden abrasiveness.

You look at him in horror before he holds you steady behind a tall pillar. “I don’t like seeing you holding him in such high regard, y/n, I’m worried.”

Y/n?

“Mingi, what is going on with you? Are you mad? How can I possibly hold him in a strong regard after what happened to my father?”

He seemed to have thought through his sudden apprehending anger and simmered down. Still unsatisfied, he trembles with a clenched jaw avoiding your eyes.

“Oh god, don’t tell me you’re jealous Mingi.”

He snaps his eyes at you porcelain skin going pink. You can’t help the endless butterflies from his surprising reaction to your joke, your hands going up to cup his face. You run your thumbs against his bloated pout and mimicked it in empathy.

“You have no reason to envy San’s relationship with me. It’s pure discouragement. Believe me.” You insist, the King of Aurora going weak under your touch.

“I don’t like watching you embrace another man.” He shudders holding at your hands. “Needless to say, and maybe the other kings have the same thought as I, it bothers me to see our princess in someone’s arms other than ours.”

“Well when I’m wed, you may not have the choice.”

“Though I hope it’s soon,” He sighs reluctantly sending you a kind smile. “I’d want it to be with someone I’d prefer.”

“Please don’t observe us like something we’re not.” You mutter about San as you two walk in return to your post. “He’s a King I’m reading for our benefit. You said so yourself to befriend the enemy. I’m just doing what’s considered right.”

“Following your heart was never hard for you, Queen y/n.”

You stop at that smiling broadly at his change of honorific. “Speaking of Queen, you called me y/n for the first time without honorifics.”

He stutters his next words. “I-I was startled by my own emotions. I—“

“Don’t brush it off.” You link your arms with his, feeling somewhat fit by his side. “You know I’ve always hated being addressed formally. Especially with you.”

“It’s my honor and duty to due respect.”

“Though I hold you in the highest regard I don’t find that necessary.”

“Regardless.”

You hum leaning against his arm only to be met with his Baron and San present with no emotion.

“Well don’t you two look quaint.” A look of loathe appeared and smeared the smile of King San when he glanced at the space between you and Mingi. “I’m sure you both caught up with your disagreements and settled them so.”

@atinybitofau

p.s rough edit lol.

a/n: I’m gonna take a quick hiatus from my oneshots cause I gotta recuperate ideas lmao. but I’ll make this pretty priority so ya’ll will see this series pop out a lot. just a quick fyi. love ya guys!

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893thecurrent · 3 years

Photo

“Hey man,” Steve Brantseg remembers saying to Curtiss A in the mid-1980s. “I know all those Beatles songs. If you’ve got space for another guitar player, I’d love to do it.”

Three and a half decades later, and 40 years since Curtiss A’s spontaneous original tribute concert on the day John Lennon died, Brantseg (also known as a member of bands including the Phones and the Suburbs) is still one of the friends the Minnesota music legend gets by “with a little help from” on First Avenue’s stage each year.

“Every year,” Brantseg explained over the phone last week, “Curt and I get together, usually on Halloween, and we discuss exactly what songs we want to do. I sort of became his musical director.”

The tribute’s tightened up over the decades, said Brantseg, “especially since about 1991 or ’92, when we put together our core band called the Jerks of Fate — which, we have a brand new album out, by the way!”

Brantseg said he was pleased when “Yoko really, really gave her approval” for the tribute after journalist Jim Walsh arranged a conversation between Curtiss A and Lennon’s widow. “She’d heard about the show.”

The guitarist said he never tires of revisiting Lennon classics like “And Your Bird Can Sing,” which has “one of the greatest guitar parts ever written, I think.” Each year, Brantseg and Curtiss A work out a sequence and transitions that draw the crowd into the former Beatle’s art. “Sometimes,” said Brantseg, “It’s like the room just elevates.”

Lennon is of course one of the most widely beloved artists in rock history, but Brantseg thinks his songs also have a special resonance in Minnesota. “Here in the Twin Cities music scene, so many people were heavily influenced by the Beatles and by his solo work. All of us have the same story: we’re standing in front of the TV in 1964, pretending we’re the Beatles.”

While Brantseg won’t sell the “genius” Paul McCartney short, he said, “it’s definitely a Lennon town. Playing at First Avenue, also, has its own vibe. The combination of the Lennon music and the venue is just a swirl of this magical energy.”

With music venues still closed as the COVID-19 pandemic exacts a deadly toll in the Upper Midwest, this year’s show will be livestreamed from the Mainroom — not the first performance to be streamed from First Ave, but the first to be presented by the iconic venue.

“It obviously is going to have an entirely different dynamic without the live crowd there,” said Brantseg, “but really, when it comes down to it, the thing that moves us all so much is the music.” Under this year’s circumstances the show, traditionally a several-hour marathon, will be a relatively concise two-and-a-half hours, explained Brantseg.

“The fact that we’re still doing it,” he continued, “and that First Avenue made a point of making sure that this show happened…we’re just so honored to be their first livestreamed show. Obviously we will miss the live crowd and the interaction and all that energy, but the energy of the music just pours through us all.”

Brantseg said he expects at least one silver lining: fans from far beyond Minnesota, who otherwise couldn’t make it to Minneapolis for the show, will be able to join in online.

Some of Lennon’s timeless songs are particularly resonant this year, said the guitarist. “Isolation,” of course, but also “‘Power to the People’ comes to mind. ‘Imagine’ comes to mind…and I suppose ‘Revolution’ as well.”

- Jay Gabler

The 41st Annual John Lennon Tribute featuring Curtiss A and friends will be streamed live from First Avenue at 7:30 p.m. CST on Tuesday, Dec. 8. For tickets and more information, see The Current’s Virtual Gig List.

#Curtiss A #Steve Brantseg #John Lennon #Minneapolis #Minnesota

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ninzied · 4 years

Photo

things you said with too many miles between us

happy belated birthday to my dear cherished friend @redbelles. i am eternally grateful for your wit, wisdom, and way with words. please accept this humble fic offering as a token of ALL MY LOVE for you :)

[ao3]

The moment Frank crosses the bridge back into the city, he wonders if he’s made a mistake.

Everything suddenly feels too close – the buildings, the view, the vague smell of garbage polluting the truck cabin. He rolls up the windows and cranks the AC instead. He reaches for the volume next, to drown out as much of the street sounds as he can.

He misses the fresh, clean air of the mountains, all that wide open space on the road with nothing else between him and the horizon.

There’s not enough room here, for him and his thoughts. Not enough time for them, either; when he’d been driving with no destination in mind, his thoughts had been prone to wandering, too, and it was fine if they returned with no answer, because there was always more time to work them through.

He could feel the longing more acutely then, but at least he could also feel free to hope.

Here, the city feels too impatient for that: the stop-start of it all, the pressure to keep shifting gears that seems to close in on him from every side. As he maneuvers his way through the rest of the city, he thinks about all that sky still behind him, endless, and blue, and beckoning him to turn around.

And then he thinks about what brought him back, and drives on.

…

Frank does a double take when he sees Amy waiting for him on the steps of Curtis’s trailer. She vaults up with an ear-to-ear grin as the truck rolls to a stop out front.

He closes the door and says, “How did you know?”

“I could just tell.” She skips up to the truck, and flashes a couple of postcards from the inner part of her jacket at him. There’s Mt. Rushmore on one of them, the St. Louis arch on the other. “You were starting to sound a little homesick.”

Frank shakes his head. “Curt told you, didn’t he.”

“Yeah, maybe.” She shifts her weight from one foot to the other. And then she bursts out, sounding smug, “But also, the dates on these, look – you weren’t heading west, you were going the opposite. Clearly you were making your way back to something.”

Frank grabs up his bag from the cargo bed of the truck, slinging it over his shoulder. “Okay, detective. C’mere.”

She jumps up at him with a crushing bear hug, and he can’t help but smile before pulling away. “Yeah, I missed you too.”

“You get some good thinking done out there?”

He pulls a noncommittal face. “Sure.”

“Great. Can’t wait to hear all about it.” She’s beaming at him, and that’s not really something he knows how to say no to. “I was gonna meet up with some friends for dinner, but I was thinking I could help you unpack until then?”

“You have friends?” He grunts as she jams her fist in his shoulder.

“Got at least one right here,” she says. “Sorry to be the one to break it to you.”

…

“It’s spring break, anyway, so it was a good excuse to make some of them drive up here with me.” Amy’s cross-legged on one of the chairs, munching on snacks she’d found in the cupboard that Curt must have left there for Frank.

“Spring break, huh? Shouldn’t you be on a beach somewhere instead?”

Amy gives him a look. “Dive school, remember? That’s all we do all day. Be on the beach.” She holds out a bag of chips to him, and he sets his duffel aside.

“Let me guess – guns, guns, more guns. And a steady rotation of the same three black hoodies.” She gives one of the side pockets a playful little nudge, and a corner of cardstock pokes out of the zipper.

“What’s this?” Amy asks, reaching in and pulling out a frayed stack of postcards. Before Frank has a chance to say anything, she’s already plucking the rubber band off. It’s cracked in the middle, and falls to the floor in one long broken strand. “Jeez. That thing is almost as ancient as you are.”

“Hey. Quit that.” He makes a move for the cards, but she’s shooting onto her feet with a speed that would probably make him proud under any other circumstances. “Hand ’em over, all right?”

“Just a sec.”

She starts thumbing through the cards like a kid who’s just been trick-or-treating, taking stock of all her spoils.

“I’m serious. Hey.”

But the amusement has already faded from her expression, and then she’s clearing her throat and carefully realigning the cards, like they’re something sacred that she knows she had no right to see.

She doesn’t resist him when he takes the cards back, tucking them carefully into his bag.

“Frank…” She shakes her head, baffled, and when he glances back over she looks genuinely upset with him. “Why didn’t you send those?”

“Wasn’t the point of writing them.”

“I’m sorry,” she says. “But just to clarify. You wrote those freaking beautiful, heartfelt little notes, specifically to just…keep them all to yourself?” She throws her hands up in the air with abject confusion. Words seem to fail her momentarily, which suits Frank just fine.

He turns away, unpacking the rest of his things. He’s checking the status of the fridge next when she starts in again.

“Wait, hang on.”

Frank cracks open a cold beer, and sends a silent thank you to Curt for looking out. He sinks into one of the chairs by the table as Amy rounds on him accusingly.

“Are you telling me that that day in the hospital – was that seriously the last time you spoke to her?”

“Wasn’t telling you anything.”

“Nice,” says Amy. “Okay. Sure. Do that thing where you push people away. That’s obviously been working so well for you.”

“Maybe I was just keeping a diary.” He shrugs, ignoring the dig. “Pretty sure people are allowed to do shit like that when they travel.”

Amy is unimpressed. “Is your diary also named Karen? Because that would really be some coincidence.”

“Look, I didn’t write them to be read – by her, or by anyone.” His tone is harder than he meant for it to be, and he catches Amy wince a little in his periphery.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I shouldn’t have pried.”

“’S’okay,” he tells her. “It’s done.”

She comes over to sit next to him. He chugs down some more of his beer, and they’re both silent for a while.

“You kept them, though,” Amy finally insists quietly to him. “That means something.”

“Yeah,” says Frank. No point in denying it.

“And for what it’s worth,” Amy tells him, “she looks at you the same way.”

“That was a long time ago,” says Frank, getting up to go scrounge for anything resembling real food. “Tell me about these ‘friends’ of yours. The one who drove you all the way up here – he been treating you right?”

“How did you even—” Amy protests, and Frank swats away the bag of cookies she lobs at his head.

…

After Amy’s gone to meet up with her friends, Frank finds his phone and, for the tenth time that week, hovers over Karen’s number before setting it back down.

Everything he’s come here to tell her – she deserves to hear it from him in person. But calling her, if she even picks up, feels like cornering her into something she has every right to say no to, and at the very least think about before she says yes.

He picks up his phone again.

Hey, he types into the screen. It’s me. I’m back in town. Would like to see you, if you would be okay with that.

He texts her the address, and reaches for another beer.

Karen’s response comes a few hours later:

Didn’t realize you had left again.

And then, after ten long and excruciating seconds:

I can come by around 3 tomorrow.

Okay, he texts back, and leaves it at that. …

He hears her car pull up just before 3 the next afternoon.

He meets her outside, waiting for her to step out. She’s shielding her eyes from the sun, so he doesn’t get a good look at her face right away. She’s dressed in dark denim, and a sweater made out of some soft-looking material.

The image stirs up a strange, almost painful sensation in his chest. He realizes he’s never seen her not dressed up for work before. He’s never seen her as this. Just Karen.

“Hey,” he says, approaching as she does. They end up meeting somewhere in the middle, standing awkwardly together in that gravel lot. “Thanks for coming.”

“Sure.” Karen gives him a small smile. “You look good, Frank.”

“Yeah?” he says. “You too.”

He’s about to invite her inside when she slips her hand into her bag, and then she’s holding something out to him. “Here. I wanted to return these.”

He looks down.

“Christ,” he says, feeling like the wind’s been knocked out of him.

She has a small handful of his postcards – whatever Amy must have thought she could get away with stealing out of his bag when he wasn’t looking.

He recognizes the one on top. It was the last card he’d written to her – with a picture of some woods up in Oregon, where he’d been hiking when he realized he had it all wrong.

“Not sure you meant for them to get sent.”

“No,” says Frank, swallowing. They’re dated, but he’d never bothered to stamp or address any of them, only starting them each with a single, scrawled Dear Karen. “No, but they’re yours.”

She turns the cards over in her hand. “Heard your song on the radio as I drove here,” she reads aloud. She flips to another one. “This coffee could give that other place a run for its money.”

He grimaces to hear his words out in the open like this. But she’s gentle with them, and with each postcard too, grasping them delicately at the edges as if they might crumple with too much pressure.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said,” she reads on the back of a card he’d grabbed from the souvenir shop at some grungy Seattle motel. “About how we’re all just trying not to be lonely. To be honest, I think about it all the time.”

There’s a slight hitch in her voice at the end, and he finds himself swaying forward a little, remembering where he had been the night that he wrote it. How he’d almost picked up the phone and called her. How his throat had closed up at the thought, and everything he would’ve said ended up on a stack of cards at the bottom of his bag instead.

“Are there more of these?” Karen asks.

Frank nods. “They’re not – I mean, some of them are just – like the one about the coffee. Pretty meaningless.”

She’s looking at him like they’re anything but. “Could I see them?”

“You can have them.” He doesn’t know how to take his eyes off of her. “You can have all of them.”

Karen traces a finger over the Oregon woods before turning the postcard around. “Wish you were here.” She seems to keep her gaze trained purposely down as she asks him, “Did you mean that, Frank?”

Something breaks inside him at the question. He ducks his head to catch her eye, lifting a knuckle to ghost over her chin. “I did,” he says, hoarse but resolved. “Still do.”

Karen’s quiet for a moment as she regards him, like she’s coming to a decision of her own. “Okay,” she says finally. “So let’s go.”

He thinks he couldn’t have heard her right.

But as he’s standing there, feeling overcome, she’s already halfway to her car. Frank watches, dumbfounded, as she pulls a bag out from behind one of the seats and closes the door behind her.

“You’re serious,” he says. “You don’t have work?”

It’s everything he hadn’t even thought he could hope for, but he doesn’t want this disrupting her life either, taking her away from all the things that matter to her.

“I think Matt and Foggy can agree that I’m long overdue for a vacation.” She walks back up to him, but his expression seems to make her pause. “If that’s all right with you.”

“God, yes.” Frank moves closer before stopping himself. Steady, he thinks. There’s no need to rush anything. They have time. They have time. “That’s what I came here to tell you I wanted.”

She’s the first to reach out and touch him, just a brush of her palm to his chest. It’s brief, but gentle to go with her tone as she teases him ever so lightly, “Looks like you already did.”

“Looks like,” says Frank, and he could just stand here all day, with the soft way she’s gazing at him right now. “So we’re doing this.”

“Looks like,” says Karen, and he looks away, smiling.

“I’ll get my things.” But he’s loath to move away from her, and after a split second’s hesitation he leans in and lets his forehead rest against hers. Karen’s hands come up to his shoulders, and everything else stands still for a moment. “Remind me to send Amy a postcard when we get there.”

She makes a small humming sound. “And where is this ‘there’ going to be?”

“Anywhere,” he says. “So long as you’re there, doesn’t matter.”

“Mm. I like that.” Karen pulls back and looks a little slyly at him. “Think that could go on a card somewhere too.”

Frank shakes his head as she laughs and goes to toss her bag into his truck.

#kastle #kastle ff #kastlenetwork #kastledaily

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livingmybestfictionallife · 4 years

Text

Live Wire --The Dirt--11

Summary: Wren Ledden, Tommy’s best friend from high school, has had a rough life, and she intends to keep the nitty gritty details of her suffrage to herself until the day she dies. Only Tommy has gotten her to open up about a small portion of her troubles, and it’s only Tommy who she trusts with her life. That is until her life gets turned around sneaking into a concert one night…the same night Motley Crue is born.

A/N: back with some more!!! Sorry it’s taken so long. I’ve gone from working, to getting furloughed and prepping for potential interviews to getting laid off and applying for everything I can think of in my field, but I needed a break from all that, so we have some more Motley. Another part will be coming soon (less than 2 weeks). Please leave me some feedback or reblog! I live for that shit. Also, Motley requests are open. I also have MGK and Chris Evans stuff in the works as well.

Previous Chapters: Masterlist

Watching her friends struggle to come down from the high of their first show should have been an indication for countless events that would shape Wren’s future, but being young blinded her from those potential dangers. Instead, she focused solely on helping her friends through the band’s first three performances at the Whisky. She began with an attempted apology to Tommy, which he refused to let her finish before immediately forgiving her for almost missing the show; he’d known Wren long enough to truly know her and her heart. If she was going to miss the show, it was more than likely due to something important, and besides that, he owed her an apology.

Tommy and Wren were family long before she moved in with him and his family, and long before the Crüe became a family of their own. For about half of her life, Wren had Tommy, and somewhere around their first major heart-to-heart, the pair made a promise that Tommy ended up breaking that night. He knew the emotional manipulation Wren’s parents put her through—the constant shaming her for her passions and bringing about an immense amount of guilt in order for her to abide by their wishes—just as much as she knew how silence to Tommy was a punishment. As young teenagers, the pair promised to never, deliberately make the other feel weak and unempowered in the way their parents had—whether it be intentional, like Wren’s, or unintentional, like Tommy’s.

The next three days and nights went without mention of the incident that happened when Lovey was over the night before their debut, and it went without saying that she wouldn’t be allowed back in the apartment if she couldn’t keep her trap shut, however Nikki still felt the need to make that clear with Vince. The day of their final performance at the Whisky, Tommy, Wren, and Nikki had woken up earlier than usual. At eight in the morning, Wren sat outside the front door, sipping coffee from a mug Tommy had gotten her for her birthday the previous year, and reading aimlessly through the paper. She didn’t expect to see any of her roommates until around noon or even later considering how frequently the boys slept in, however she was surprised to hear a grumbling Nikki speaking on the phone in a frustrated and exasperated tone.

In an attempt to mind her own business, Wren adjusted her position in the folding lawn chair she sat in outside their apartment, rested the paper against her now bent legs, and drank from her mug. Her eyes skimmed an article about yet another celebrity who has passed away that year and Wren could hear the huff and puff of a tired and grumpy Nikki Sixx as he stepped onto, what she referred to as a patio for lack of a better word, and dropped himself into the folding chair beside Wren.

“I take it you’re in a bad mood because you woke up too early,” she commented without pulling her eyes away from the paper.

“That was Vince on the phone,” Nikki dully stated as he lit a cigarette in frustration. “He wants to practice some specific voice stuff with us before the show tonight.”

“Okay, what’s the problem then, pissy pants?” Wren continued to skim the article with little interest in the world around her other than the coffee she continually and leisurely sipped on. Nikki pulled the cigarette from between his lips and let out a steady stream of smoke. His eyes had slowly drifted from the jagged horizon of rooftops to the soft, brown waves of Wren’s hair as it fell gently around her face. He watched as her bottom lip curled beneath her top teeth as she read couldn’t help the urge he had to smile at her. She looked peaceful sitting there in what he assumed used to be one of Tommy’s old t-shirts, her usually pale skin glowing in the golden rays of the sun, and her light eyes dancing across the pages of the paper with an intense focus that required her to chew on her lip. Nikki hated himself for wanting to reach across the empty space between them and snake his fingers between hers. It seemed stupid, cheesy, and cliché, and he hated all of those things. He’d never known love, so love didn’t exist; it was a fabrication concocted in movies to force everyday people into believing that some sort of superior feeling can exist within you, so he rejected the desire to take Wren’s hand in his and dismissed it as him falling victim to Hollywood’s attempt to play god.

“The problem is that he wants to bring that bitch over again.” Nikki noticed the soft curve of Wren’s jaw harden and the curious gaze with which she read the paper fade and be replaced with a cold, calculated grimace.

“If she’s—” Wren’s threat was quickly cut short by a reassuringly curt Nikki.

“She’s not.” Those two words coming from his mouth was enough to cause her posture to relax and her eyes to soften. Wren hadn’t even realized how tense she’d been at the mention of Vince’s girlfriend until Nikki put her mind at ease. “I told him that after last time she’s not welcome here, and if she treats you like shit at a show, Tommy and I aren’t going to step in to hold you back.” Unsure of what to say, Wren allowed her lips to curl into a small smile of gratitude before she shifted her attention back to the paper. She was thankful she had it with her; it gave her something to look at other than those damned eyes of his. Wren tried not to let her mind retreat back the night she pummeled Lovey, but she was young and weak. She could still remember how Nikki held her, how safe she felt with him, and the thought that ran through her mind when wrapped in his arms.

“Why do you do this?” The words fell from her mouth without caution and her eyes flashed up at the man beside her.

“Excuse me?” Nikki cocked an eyebrow at Wren and offered a small, forced chuckle in her direction. He knew damned well that she could see through him, yet he was still stupid enough to try and change the conversation’s course.

“Why do you do this?” she repeated, this time assuring her eyes never left Nikki’s.

“Are you mad right now?” he asked after looking over his shoulder back toward the apartment’s window to see if Tommy was awake or approaching. Both Wren and Nikki had tempers and the tendency to quickly lash out at those around them as a result of their tempers. After an incident involving a misplaced remote and Nikki and Wren yelling at one another for an hour before either of them realized they were saying the same thing, the pair decided it would be best to flat out ask one another if they were angry rather than try and gauge the other’s temper. Wren smiled to herself when Nikki asked her this, mostly because they were each a bit drunk when they devised that plan and she knew that, normally, Nikki never remembered anything that happens when he’s drunk.

“No, I’m just curious,” Wren sighed before she continued. “Why do you always defend me?”

“Tommy defends you,” he retorted.

“Tommy knows me and has known me for a very long time. He knows my birthday, my favorite food, favorite songs, he knows what I’m allergic to, knows the bullshit I’ve gone through…my regrets, fears, weaknesses. You don’t know me that way, at least not enough to constantly be jumping to my defense.”

“Just because I don’t know you like Tommy does doesn’t mean I don’t know you at all,” Nikki scoffed, “and it doesn’t mean I don’t want to know you.” Upon noticing the quick furrow of Wren’s eyebrows, Nikki inhaled sharply on his cigarette and spoke again to clear up her confusion. “I know you hate cigarette smoke, that’s why I’m sitting down wind from you. I know you can’t stand it when Tommy makes coffee, which is why you always get up earlier than us. I know you eat chocolate and peanut butter in the living room after Tommy and I go to bed, or when you wake up in the middle of the night from nightmares—yeah, I know about those too. I know you discredit yourself way too much, but for the life of me, I don’t know why, because you’re probably the smartest and most talented person I’ve ever met. So maybe I don’t know you like Tommy does, but I know you enough to know what makes you mad and what upsets you, and if I can do something to keep that from happening, then I will.” As the words fell from Nikki’s mouth, Wren was as still as the morning air around them as the golden rays of the sun slowly disappeared and daylight took over the world.

“Nikki, do you how hard it is to trust another person so completely?” The man beside her shook his head and his dark hair flicked slightly against his neck. “Neither do I. Tommy’s my best friend, but he’s also more than that; he’s my family. I don’t just say that shit because that’s how it’s like between us; I say it because I’ve never felt a familial bond with any human being—one so complete and unconditional that you know, through anything and everything, they will be there—other than Tommy. We’re family in the sense that we have to love each other no matter what; that’s what and who Tommy is to me.” Silence fell over the pair as Wren lifted her coffee mug to her lips and leisurely sipped from it as she thought of her next words. Nikki’s eyes fell from where he had held his gaze on her to the ground. Did she trust Nikki in one sense or another? Yes. Did she feel safe around him? Yes. Did those feelings of trust and safety terrify her to wits end? Hell yes! Wren didn’t know why she felt so comfortable around Nikki, but she was certain of one thing: he could turn his back on her, and she’d made the decision long ago that if she could avoid getting hurt, she’d do so at all costs.

“You’re not the only one here with a fucked-up past,” Nikki said softly when he noticed Wren shift in her seat, as if she were about to retreat from the awkward, raw, naked vulnerability of their conversation. “I know it’s hard to get close to people—why else do you think things didn’t work out with London? And I’m serious about what I said; just because I don’t know you like Tommy does doesn’t mean I don’t want to know you.” Wren rose from her seated position and stretched her spine out before responding to Nikki’s comment.

“What do you want to know, Sixx?” With a playful smirk across her face, Nikki half suspected her walls were back up, but the way she rested her back against the railing, her elbows propped up behind her rather than crossed over her body in defense, made him realize she was opening herself up to vulnerability.

“How about tomorrow, we work on some new music and hang out, just the two of us?” The smirk on Wren’s face fell into a soft smile as she nodded in agreement.

“That sounds nice,” she admitted. Nikki’s eyes fell over Wren’s face in the overly inquisitive way they had when he had walked outside, and as she noticed his gaze change, Wren reached for her newspaper and then pointed at the coffee mug.

“You can have the rest of that if you want; it’s my second cup and I have to piss.” Nikki chuckled once the door became a barrier between the pair then picked up her mug to taste a bold, black coffee with hints of mint, and once again he was faintly reminded of what her lips would taste like.

Inside the apartment, Tommy had hung up the phone with Mick, who was calling to let him know he was on his way over. “Is Vince coming too?” Tommy asked once Nikki filed back into the apartment. “Wait, what were you guys doing outside?”

“Reading the paper and drinking coffee, like I do every morning,” Wren returned and lightly thwacked a portion of the paper against Tommy’s chest and placed another part of the paper in Nikki’s hands.

“Oo! Cartoons!” Tommy cooed as he dropped onto the couch and began to flick through the pages.

“I highlighted the equipment I found for-sale. I thought we could show Vince and Mick and see if there’s anything we want, or anything we can trade,” Wren’s intonation turned upwards and her eyes widened into those of a doe as she tried, yet again, to convince Nikki to trade the extra guitar amplifier that Rick had used for a second bass drum for the drum set.

“Again, with this?” He huffed with a smirk before dropping the folded papers on his amp and grabbing his bass. He tried to be genuinely mad at her suggestion when she first brought it up, but failed miserably in doing so. Since then it’s become a bit: Wren would bring it up, Nikki would feign frustration, they’d discuss it for a moment, but both parties knew that, in the end, neither would budge. At the end of today’s rendition of the bit, Wren rolled her eyes, picked up the papers, and dropped onto the bass amp as Nikki turned his attention to the fret and began to tune his instrument to precision—a feat Wren was incredibly impressed with since he had done the same thing merely a few hours ago, just before he went to sleep.

“It’s collecting dust,” Wren retorted as she pointed the papers in the direction of the extra amp and then dropped her arms as she returned her attention to Nikki.

“Maybe you can use it as a seat,” Nikki sneered as he eyed Wren up and down where she sat; her back was upright in an impeccable posture, and Nikki rolled his eyes at the sheer knowledge that Wren’s posture was due to her practicing yoga in her room early in the morning or late at night to calm whatever nerves overcome her enough to have frequent nightmares.

“Wren sits between us so she can make sure we’re on tempo,” Tommy commented without looking up from Calvin and Hobbes. “She also likes sitting near you so you two can make your judging comments about each run through.”

“Tommy only has two feet! One for the bass drum and one for the hi-hat, what is he going to do with a second bass drum?” Nikki stated as he moved his tuning to the next string and continued to flick his eyes between his fret and Wren.

“See, judging comments,” Tommy muttered dryly as his interest in the conversation between his friends faded and was replaced by that of a blonde boy and tiger.

“What about getting Vince a better mic? He always gets tangled in the wire. We could get a cordless one,” Wren suggested as Nikki tried to strum his bass strings harder to overpower her voice. His attempt was fruitless when Wren leaned over and turned off the volume on his amplifier.

“Why does everyone else get something from this except me?” Nikki complained as he moved on to the next string on his guitar.

“Fine, what do you want, Sixx?” Wren huffed as she let her legs down from their crisscrossed position and leaned herself backwards, supporting her weight with the heels of her hands and bringing her shoulders back. Nikki swore she was pushing her chest higher to get her way, that her posture had changed as a means to manipulate him, that she had set this whole thing up, that her kindness and slight vulnerability outside being just a ruse to get him to agree to trade in something he had no physical or emotional attachment to other than it being a constant conversation piece between him and her. Before he spoke, Nikki narrowed his eyes at Wren and smirked.

“I want my extra amplifier.” His cocky tone only enhanced the smug look over his face as his eyes refused to move from Wren’s narrowed brows and sharp jaw that jutted his way. Tommy laughed at the pair’s interaction and only dropped the antics of Calvin and Hobbes when he heard the familiar chug of Mick’s car pull up to the curb, with Vince’s true love—his girlfriend’s cherry red whatever-the-fuck car—visible not far down the street.

Taking this as her last chance to mess with Nikki before witnesses appeared, Wren gave him the same up and down examination he routinely gave her. He noticed this and the smug, arrogant smirk on his face fell to an almost equally arrogant smile. Cautiously, he walked towards where she had positioned herself on his amp—when she first started doing this, it drove him insane because he assumed she didn’t have any respect for his things, then he realized she only did this because she felt safe near him, and then it drove him insane because he really liked seeing her there every time he turned around. Honestly, during the past two performances at the Whisky, if he turned his head toward his amp, a strong disappointment would overcome him when he realized she wasn’t there. Seeing her now, in a way he’d imagined in the wildest of fantasies—legs draped, arms leaning back, chest high—he bit his lip as he bent over, his face becoming microscopically close to hers, as he turned his amp’s volume back on. He had rested his hand against the side of the amp, forcing his arm to cross behind her back, and when he rose again, he could see her sharp eyes cutting into him as her teeth cut into her bottom lip.

“Your D string is a half-step sharp. You should probably fix that before the guys come back in,” Wren stated with a smirk as she slid from his amp and paced out of the apartment to welcome Mick. Nikki grabbed his instrument and strummed the second thinnest string without hearing the discrepancy Wren had mentioned. It wasn’t until he thought about her eyes trailing over him and the smirk on her face as she spoke that he caught her innuendo.

Continued Reading: TBA

Tags: @prettyyoungandbored, @hot-young-runningfree , @crue-sixx, @oskea93, @dancergirl5527, @thatonemoviefan, @casualcomputerarbiter-blog, @motleymachinegun, @motleycrueee, @motley-queen, @american-satanxx

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need-a-new-hobby · 4 years

Text

Lucky

note: i hate what i’m about to write but it’s important for the plot. i hate this. pure angst and love for garcia // it is important to know i will not be focusing on the episode, just on the absolute ball of eccentric sunshine that is penelope freaking garcia 😍😍also a certain cute detective makes spencer subtly jealous.

Another sunny day. After receiving multiple good morning texts from Piper (who is an absolute goofball that should not be allowed near her phone at 5:30am) Penelope got up from her lavender scented sheets (a gift by Emily that kept on giving) and trudged her way to the shower. She grabbed her mug of the day and left for her favourite coffee shop down the street. She greeted Allison (who definitely works too much) and waited patiently for her bean juice until she heard mild swearing from behind her. A VERY handsome man slammed his fingers into his keyboard, cursing at his laptop. Allison’s outstretched hands shook her from the very dirty scene her imagination would have created. As she walked past, she halted behind the man hitting his keyboard. “I got a polo mallet in my trunk. Maybe you should give it a shot?” She joked before seeing the very grim face on the young man. “Sorry, none of my business.” As she made to leave, he started,

“3 hours.” Penelope stopped, turned and tilted her head. “Just froze up on me.”

“You didn’t save...Who has time to save these days with the kids and the rap music?” She approached the man and peered at his laptop, her cheek inches away from his.

“You have a polo mallet in your trunk?” He asked the blonde examining his laptop.

“Small one.” She admitted. “May I?” The young man got up, allowing her the seat. “Oh, figures. Windows. Temperamental.” He watched her fingers flutter over his keyboard and chuckled as she exclaimed, “Et voila!” Penelope got up from the seat, grabbing her bags and wished him luck but as she left, he introduced himself.

“James, James Baylor. My friends call my Colby.”

“Penelope. Garcia. My friends call me wonderful. And Garcia.” He chuckled again. My God, he was beautiful. And then he did something that very rarely happened in her itty bitty life. He pulled out his card and offered her lunch. Penelope felt her face light up and she scribbled her own number on his paper napkin.

She felt giddy as she walked into the BAU with her untouched cup of coffee. Derek glided behind her, as he did so irritatingly, saying, “Good morning, princess,” receiving only a curt good morning in return. “Pump. Your. Brakes,” said he in that smooth voice he had and beckoned her closer. “Every morning I say good morning. Every day you say I’ll show you a good morning hot stuff. Every day. Not today?”

“I hate profilers. You know that?”

“Spit it out.”

“Fine. I met a guy.”

“You did what?” Derek’s eyebrows reached outer space. “Where?”

“Coffee shop. Smoking hot. I fixed his computer and then he asked for my number.”

“And you just--”

“Gave it to him. Did I mention he was smoking hot?” Derek smiled at her.

“Yeah. Ok. It happens.” Derek made to leave, until Garcia continued.

“No it doesn’t. Not to me. Not like this.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not the girl men see across a smoky bar and write songs about. No-- I do just fine, it just takes a minute, you know.”

“Ok, so what's the problem? You think it's all happening a little too fast or something?”

“Yes. I--I don't know. Maybe. What do you think?”

“I think you should always trust your gut, So sure, if he seems a little too smooth Or maybe even a little too smokin' hot, Then maybe you should walk the other way.” Before Garcia could reply, JJ marched past.

“Hey, we got a bad one.”

“How bad?”

“Florida.” Derek sighed heavily. Piper slowly sunk into her chair, Spencer watching her carefully. Rossi and Hotch glanced through the file as Derek and JJ filed in.

“Bridgewater, Florida. Local girl, Abbey Kelton, 19, Left her parents' home to go to the local junior college. She never came home. 3 days later, joggers found her-- Part of her-- In a nearby park.” Piper didn’t flinch as a mangled body flashed on the screen.

“Jesus, the unsub did that?” Piper whispered.

“She was found in what the locals call Alligator Alley.”

“Forensic countermeasure? Leaving her to the alligators, letting them destroy the evidence for him?”

“Now I don’t feel so bad about my alligator wallet.” Emily murmured.

“Alligators didn't cut off her fingers, slit her throat, or carve this into her chest. An inverted pentagram,” Hotch remarked.

“Pentagrams were used symbolically in ancient Greece and Babylonia, and are used today as a symbol of faith by many Wiccans, but they’re notoriously linked to Satanism. Éliphas Lévi called it evil whenever the symbol appeared the other way up. Much like the swastika used by both Hindus and Nazis.”

“Was this a part of your history course?” Derek joked.

“Actually it was the only way my senior classes would pay attention to me. Parents didn’t like it.” She did that smile where she looked like a very polite cat.

“Some things never change.” Rossy grimaced.

“Killer satanic cults don't exist,” Emily informed him. “They were debunked as a suburban myth.” She just blinked as Rossi stared at her. “What?”

“Rossi’s the one that debunked them,” Spencer pointed out and Piper stifled a laugh behind her hand.

“Oh. Right. Well. Thanks.” He nodded at her before quickly continuing,

“Well, cult or not, the killing was highly ritualised.”

“That’s not the only bit to be worried about. These cuts are precise. This guy’s professional.”

“Okay, so satanic cults don’t exist, but satanic serial killers do.”

Rossi simply made his exit, dramatically quoting, “Lasciate ogni speranza ch'entrate.”

“Thanks for clearing that up.” Piper laughed.

“He’s quoting Dante’s Inferno.” She got up from her chair, careful not to lean on her right hand, Spencer about to push off from his seat to help her. Matching Rossi’s intonations, she translated, “Abandon hope, all ye who enter here.”

“So that’s a yes.”

JJ, Rossi and Morgan went to see the family. Prentiss, Hotch and Reid went to see the body. Piper was alone, again, pinning up pictures of more victims. “Can’t believe somethin’ like this could happen in Bridgewater.” Piper whipped her head around to see the young detective looking at her.

“Trust me detective, the chances of this happening again are very low. And we have a very high success rate.”

“I hope so. How many victims you usually get before...” He trailed off, hanging his head. Piper flitted over, pressing a hand to his shoulder gently.

“With cases that are called in this early, best case scenario is two.”

“And worst case?”

“Three. Detective, trust us. We’re good at our job.”

“If you’re so good, why are you in here pinning pictures?” The detective closed his eyes. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-”

“I got shot. In the line of duty. Bullet lodged in my shoulder. No exit wound so...” She cleared her throat. “I’m too stubborn to leave behind at HQ, but my boss is too stubborn to let me in the field. So I feel just about as useless as you do. But we’ll get him. We always do.”

“Listen, you need any help with this board?” Piper smiled at the detective and finally, she didn’t feel so alone.

She watched them discuss the most recent development. 10 fingers-- ugh. It was too gross to think about. Every time you think you’ve reached the peak, it just gets worse. "So we need to ID the new finger prints. I'll get Garcia on it." Her shoulder throbbed as she talked to Garcia, pain and guilt and self-hatred swirling up her throat. She flipped her cell shut and felt like vomiting.

"Here." The detective offered a bottle of painkillers. "My dad had a GSW to his leg, the painkillers helped."

"Thanks," she took the bottle. "I never caught your name."

"Andrew. Andrew Lisbon. My friends call me Drew."

"Piper." She extended a hand, smiling. "Piper Bishop. My team calls me Pipes."

Spencer watched the interaction between you and a fairly handsome detective intently, until Rossi pulled him out into consciousness.

^-^

Garcia tapped the answer button with the top of her pen."Hear ye, hear ye, the Honourable Penelope Garcia presiding. Speak and be heard."

"Uh, it's Colby. We met this morning. You fixed my laptop."

"Yeah. Uh, hi. H-How's it going?"

"Great. Thanks to you."

"Heh. Just happy to be of service."

"You know, I was wonderin' if you'd let me make that thank-you lunch a dinner."

"You really don't have to do that."

"I know, but I'd like to. I'm askin' you out, Garcia. Tomorrow night."

"Tomorrow night? Tomorrow night. Tomorrow night. You know, I would love to, But I am coming down with something."

"Are you ok?"

"Y-Yeah."

"Maybe some other time when you're feelin' up to it."

"Yeah. That-- I have your number."

"Feel better. "

"Thanks." Garcia's attention fixated on her screen as she tossed the number into her bin, watching the fingerprint recognition software working its magic, then with a practiced flourish, dialled Derek.

"Hey, what you got for me, girl?"

"I just sent you 10 separate IDs belonging to the 10 fingers found in Abbey Kelton's stomach. No 2 fingers belong to the same woman."

"10. And you ID'd them already?"

"Mm. 40-Plus prostitution arrests made it easy. They worked truck stops and rest areas In the counties surrounding Bridgewater."

"Well, the unsub knows the area well."

"Clearly. Gotta go. Bye."

"Hey, whoa, whoa, whoa. What, no snappy rhetoric? What's goin' on?"

"Not in the mood."

"Penelope?"

"Uh, that guy from the coffee shop asked me out, and I took your advice, and I blew him off."

"Oh. Um... Well, good. Smart move. Something was definitely wrong with him."

"Wow. You are some profiler. You could tell how wrong he was from what little I told you."

"Garcia, I didn't mean to--"

"I wonder was it that he was too handsome Or too interested in me that tipped you off on how wrong he was?"

"Garcia, I--"

"Just 'cause you wouldn't cross a crowded room to hit on me does not mean that a more perceptive, less superficial guy wouldn't. Hey, Derek, you want snappy? You suck." She cut the line and Derek stared at his cell for a few minutes before he put it away. Penelope sniffled before turning to her pink dustbin, pulling out the card Colby gave her, starting to dial.

^-^

"I am getting sick of these walls. Garcia just sent these through." Piper slapped the files on the desk before furrowing her brows. "Hotch just checked them. We're calling families, you're briefing the locals with Rossi and Reid. You okay?"

"Hmm? Yeah, fine. I'll get started on the briefing."

^-^

Piper drummed her fingers on the dashboard next to Detective Lisbon. "Impatient, huh?"

"I've been cooped up in your police station for 3 days." He snorted.

"They're good people."

"Oh, no!" Piper panicked. "No- no, I didn't mean-- all I meant was--" He just chuckled.

"No, I get it. Inaction makes the brain go crazy."

"Yeah."

"You get nightmares?"

"In law enforcement, doesn't everyone?" She stared out the window. "I try to deal with it. Can't say therapy doesn't work, I used to encourage it."

"You know, I did a little research on you."

"Should I be nervous?"

"No, it's all good stuff. I just figured out why you do this gig."

"Enlighten me."

"I think you do what helps the most people. So, are you?"

"I think so." The car came to a halt and the two got out to join the others. "So we doing this search party or what?"

As Piper handed out bottles, Emily poked you with her pen. "So Detective Lisbon huh?"

"Don't be ridiculous."

"What? I didn't say anything." She smiled, winningly.

"We're not high school girls anymore. I understand subtext now. And nothing's happened."

"Yet." She whispered in a sing-song voice.

"Don't make me hurt you Emily."

"What, I'm not the only one. Spencer was basically boring holes into Lisbon's head yesterday."

"I was?" Reid popped up behind them.

"Yeah. Reid, c'mon convince her to ask him out."

"He lives in Florida Em, you know long-distance doesn't work out."

"Really, what about JJ?"

"JJ's different."

"What do you mean?"

"I-I don't even know the guy."

"That's the point of dating. C'mon Reid, what do you think?"

"If you ask me…"

"Just give Emily a statistic on the probabilities of it working out."

"I can't."

"Di--Did you say you can't give us a statistic, Reid are you okay?" Piper snorted.

"Check if he has a fever."

"I can't say because you're an outlier, Piper."

"How am I an outlier, Spence?" Emily rolled her eyes, leaving them alone.

"Because you defy the odds. Every time. You were a history teacher. You became an FBI agent. You survived a gunshot wound. You defy the odds. And-" Piper's heart kept pounding. Just say no. Say no Spence, and I'll forget him. "And anyone would be lucky to go out with you." Piper stared at him as he asked for more signatures.

^-^

Piper pinned up the latest victim on the board. Kept for 9 months and somehow, Hotch figured out that the unsub was eating them. Her cell rang and she put Garcia on speaker, who informed them that the Hazelwood Mental Institute for the Criminally Insane had a fire months ago. Bishop and Reid headed out a few minutes later, the latter driving in silence. "So you like him?"

"He's nice, cute, offered me painkillers for my wound."

"So you're gonna go out with him?" She shifted in her seat and his voice was filled with concern. "Are you okay?"

"Fine. I don't know. I'm indifferent. If he gives me his number by the end, I'll give him a chance." Reid nodded, not making eye contact. "I'm sorry." She murmured, laying a hand on his thigh. Spencer's blood rushed. "I should've told you, but you were all so busy, and I was alone-"

"You shouldn't feel alone. Ever." Spencer looked at her with those warm honeyed eyes.

"Eyes on the road Spence."

"Right."

"Why shouldn't I feel alone? Spence, I wanna be a part of the team again, but everyone's always doing something and I'm constantly left behind."

"You'll recover, quicker than you know."

"Yeah, Spence, but I won't be the same. I haven't slept right since, I feel different and my shoulder hurts at the worst times." Reid was silent.

“You haven’t slept?” He asked quietly. “Wh- Why wouldn’t you tell me that?”

“Spence-”

“No, no, you probably just didn’t want me to know, I shouldn’t prod.” Piper sighed ad he closed off. Again.

“That’s not it.”

“Then what is?”

“I didn’t want to worry anyone. The last thing I need right now is someone breaking down my symptoms. Look, I’m going to therapy, I’m eating healthier, I’m taking my meds, and I’m going to be fine.” Spencer just sat there solemnly, trying to ignore the soft hand still on his thigh.

They pulled up besides an old institution and Spencer raced to the other side to help Piper out. “Why do we always have to go to these places when it’s dark? I feel like I’m in a horror movie.” She heard Spencer chuckle besides her. “Don’t laugh,” she pushed him with her good arm, continuing,” I hate horror movies.”

“Okay, fine, fine. So what do you watch? Rom-coms?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Oh, now you have to.”

“Look, it’s the doctor.” Piper sped forwards into the dark, Spencer following her.

The three of them made their way through the institution as the doctor explained their records had all suffered in the fire, with another doctor dying in it as he came back into the office when the fire alarm rang.

“Was there something his office that he felt was worth risking his life for?” She asked him

“Now that I think about it,” the doctor muttered. He pulled out a drawer and a partially burned notebook. “The grounds people found it in a tree just below his office. Jim, uh, must have thrown it out of his window Just before he...”

“Thank you, Dr Nash.” Piper clutched the book as the doctor continued.

“I started reading. I had to s-stop. ‘The--" Uh, "the patient's symptoms go far beyond normal psychosexual, oral biting fixation of a typical 7-year-old boy.’”

“Thank you very much sir.” As Bishop and Reid left, the latter clutched a phone to his ear in the darkness.

“Rossi, we've got something.”

“I need a name, Reid.”

"Admitted after biting a large piece of flesh out of his 9-month-old sist-"

:A name.”

“Believes he is possessed by a flesh-eating demon."

“Reid.“ Piper snatched the phone off of Reid before spitting out the name.

“Floyd Feylin Ferrell.” She snapped the cell shut.

“I was about to-”

“Sure, Spence.” Piper smiled softly at him in the darkness, clutching her shoulder gently, but the gesture wasn’t lost on him and his forehead crinkled.

^-^

She’d lasted a year before she had to throw up. Her hair was tied up, a bottle of water left on the floor next to the seat. She’d seen some creepy things, but this was the peak. As she hurled into the toilet seat, she flashed through the signs. She hadn’t even eaten the dishes at the volunteer search party and yet here she was. Hurling as though she’d eaten Tracey’s body like the rest of the search party. Having emptied her stomach, Piper gulped down the bottle of water and flushed. She heard a rap on the bathroom door. “Agent Bishop!” Gulping down more water, she opened the door.

“Detective Lisbon. I’m sorry, it just-”

“No, it’s, it’s fine. Here.” He offered her a mint. “I can’t believe that sick bastard would do something like this.” Piper popped the mint in her mouth before replying.

“I could have lived not knowing.”

“Well, at least you didn’t eat it.”

“That’s true,” she said solemnly.

“Piper,” the detective started, staring at his shoes.”How, uh... how long are you in Florida?”

“The jet leaves tonight. I’m sorry.”

“No, no. Don’t be- I just uh...” He stammered. Piper approached him, telling him to breathe and try again.

“Can I...I mean would you...like my number?” She chuckled, oblivious to Spencer and Derek watching them.

“Yes, I’d like that very much.” Piper picked up the card he offered with two fingers and popped it in her pocket.

“I’ll see you around?”

“Maybe.” She smiled at him before turning around to see Derek snickering alone. She slapped his arm with the back of his hand. As she turned over the card in the jet, Garcia was being dropped off by her date.

“I had fun tonight.” She said, turning to the handsome man dropping her off.

“Me too.” Colby said, shoving his hand into his right pocket. He stepped closer to Garcia, their faces inches apart as just as Garcia tilted her head forward, he hugged her, whispering a good night in her ear.

“Good night.” She walked away towards her door, turning back as he called her name.

“I’ve been wanting to do this all night.” He smiled before raising his gun and shooting her just above her breast. Garcia collapsed in the darkness, key in hand as the gunshot sounded out around the apartment complex.

To be continued.

13 notes · View notes

hoovii · 4 years

Text

If You Only Knew, You'd Hate Me Chapter Three

Pairing: Bucky Buchanan x OMC (Zebediah Kaskitt)

Summary: Bucky and Zebediah had a fleeting interaction years ago and Zeb has been hung up on the boy ever since. Even with his arrogant and dismissive exterior, Zeb still tries to make a connection.

Warnings: swearing, shitty parents, as per usual, bucky gets pumbled, it's bad, I guess I just hate my main characters, but wait, theres fluff, yep, hurt comfort baby

Tags: @lykenbcrn @btrmuffins @diagnosed-crazy

As always ask if you'd like to be tagged

Part One Part Two

When Bucky stepped into the kitchen his mother was in her usual place at the island. What worried him was that his father was behind her chair. Bucky knew well enough to take his seat across from his mother. His father eyed him the entire time, a look of disdain on his face that was reserved specifically for Bucky. Bucky's father was better than him in every way. Taller, stronger, more handsome, smarter, and infinitely more talented. A silence hung in between the three, the kind that pulled tighter the longer you held it until you reached a point where it would be painful no matter how it was broken.

"I can't believe you. Right now, I honestly could care less if you were found dead in a ditch. In fact, that might be an improvement to our current situation."

A glob of spit landed on Bucky's face. He didn't dare wipe it off. He felt the telltale sting of his father's slap across his face, then again on the other side of his face. His father's rings digging into his cheek and brow bone. He knew there would be blood. There was always blood when his father punished him. Especially now. Last night's fresh wounds would easily be reopened.

"Stand."

Bucky did as he was told, moving far enough away from the chair to give his father room enough to be able to circle him comfortably if he wished to. Bucky would be cleaning the floors later. They were lucky the tile was brown. A white tile would be much more difficult to clean.

"You were with that fucking zombie again."

His father accentuated each word with a blow to Bucky's face.

"They are disgusting."

A fist.

"You are disgusting."

A knee.

His father's rings stamped images onto his body. They would resurface later in the form of bruises. He grabbed Bucky's wrists, nails piercing the skin.

"I thought you learned your lesson after yesterday boy."

He threw Bucky on the ground collecting the skin of his wrists under his fingernails. He slammed his foot into Bucky's back as a preventative to stop him from getting up.

"Don't lie to me boy. If you tell me you learned your lesson I don't want to see it again."

A series of kicks fell onto his back and sides. The beating couldn't have lasted more than a couple minutes, but it felt like hours. It felt like it would never end. His mother didn't participate. She merely watched, sipping her martini and occasionally checking her watch, as if this was just a slight inconvenience to her. In all likeliness it probably was.

"Stand."

Bucky again did as he was told. Any other time he would've submitted. But he didn't want to not see this zombie anymore. He wanted that kindness. He needed that kindness.

"May I speak, sir?"

His mother and father exchanged glances before he gave a curt nod.

"I wish to explain the reason I am associating with the monster."

His mother's eyebrows raised, eyes widening.

"You mean you did not wish to create a friendship with it?"

"No ma'am. Of course not. I just have him do tasks for me. He's like a servant. That's all I'm using him for. He is a filthy zombie. I would never want to be around him otherwise. I promise."

His mother looked to her husband. Being the reasonable one out of the two he had hoped that she took to what he said. She could convince his father of anything.

"You know, dear. That isn't a terrible idea. That's very resourceful of you son."

His father laughed. A rare sound coming from him. It was deep and loud. It wasn't happy. It induced no joy, hearing it. Quite the opposite. The rumble instilled a deeper fear into Bucky.

"Why didn't you say that before we taught you your lesson, boy? Now clean up and do whatever it is you do. God knows you're never home. Just be quiet; we're going to bed."

"Yes sir."

His mother and father left the room. Bucky was able to let out his breath. The first thing he did was clean the blood away from his eyes as best as he could. He made quick work with the mop, disposing of the end and replacing it once he had cleaned the pools on the floor.

The sounds of the night filled the air. Homemade windchimes hung outside. They didn't sound good or look particularly impressive, but they were an important part of zombie culture. Art deco in general was a huge aspect of zombie culture. They turned trash into something creative and beautiful. It decorated their houses and their lawns. It was a thing of pride. The windchimes currently jingled unceremoniously. Crickets sang their songs, exchanging melodies with the frogs and the cicadas. Although there technically wasn't a curfew the Z Patrol would still chastise zombies for being out at night so Zombietown was always quiet after sundown.

Of course, on such a beautiful night it would have to be disrupted. The sound of something hitting the chair that served as a window cover rang out. Zeb turned over, covering his head with his pillow. The metal tang continued.

"What the hell." He mumbled.

He threw his blankets off and shuffled to the window, pulling the chair off its nail. In the dirt, down by his stoop stood Zebina. She beckoned him to come down. Zebina never went out after dark. She didn't even go to mashes. Zeb didn't even think she stayed up past ten o'clock. He swung his legs over the railing and hopped into the ground.

"Bina, what are you doing here?"

"The wolves, they're having a campfire. They invited us."

Zeb wrinkled his eyebrows. Zebina, most likely sensing his confusion continued.

"We hung out while you were at your cheer stuff. So are you coming or not?"

"I- yeah."

They hurried to the outside of town where they were met by a wolf named Wynter. The two seemed close, sharing inside jokes as they made their way to and through the forbidden forest. As they approached you could hear howls and laughter. A large fire raged in the center of several wolves. Zebediah didn't love fire. He wasn't scared like some zombies, but he tended to stay away from it. Zebina, on the other hand, was fascinated; she loved fire. She went immediately toward it, greeting other wolves. She was uncharacteristically social. Zebina didn't have a lot of friends; she and Zebediah had been friends since elementary and had just stayed close. She didn't have time to make friends; she had to study. Yet, she already seemed close to them.

Now alone, Zebediah looked around, spotting a semi-secluded spot away from the fire to sit. He decided he'd wake up a little bit before joining the group. Before he got the chance, a wolf came over to him. He remembered her name was Willa. She was kind of scary, but Zeb smiled at her anyway.

"Diah right?"

"Zebediah, yeah."

Zeb moved over to allow her to sit.

"Bina talks about you a lot."

"Oh God, what does she say?"

"Bucky? That asshole?"

Zeb sighed. "Zebina doesn't understand why I like Bucky so much."

"Neither do I."

Willa raised an eyebrow. She looked bewildered. People usually were. He got side eyes whenever he called to Bucky. Zeb shifted into a more comfortable position. This would be a long conversation; he could tell.

"She doesn't pay attention. Nobody does really. I don't blame them. We're all so caught up in our own lives; we don't take the time to look at what's happening with people. Nobody looks behind the brash exterior. He's either a monster or he's a cheer god."

Willa's face wrinkled into something between anger and confusion.

"He is a monster though."

"No. He's not. He's not a cheer god either. He's just a person. A person with thoughts and feelings. A person who makes choices based on things that have happened to him."

"Don't you ever just feel like all your kindness is wasted?"

"Sometimes, yeah, but everyone deserves kindness."

Willa didn't seem happy with his answer at all.

"But he treats everyone, including you, like crap."

She stood, throwing her arms in the air and pacing.

"Kind of, but also kind of not. It's an act. Next time your around, pay closer attention to his facial expressions, to how he words his sentences. Just look closer, I implore you."

Willa stopped to look at him and chuckled.

"You're so nice. Forgiving. You're just like Wyatt." She shook her head, then looked back up at him. "I don't like Bucky, but your decisions are your own. I think whatever this is will go down in flames. I do wish you the best though, you seem like a good kid."

"I'm older than you." Zeb jested.

"I'm wiser."

"Are you though?"

Two shared a grin before Zeb thanked her.

"I am quite tired and I certainly wasn't expecting this conversation tonight, so I think I'm gonna head out."

"Do you need walked back?"

Zeb shook his head before walking over to Bina, informing her of his departure. She managed a 'later loser' before resuming her conversation. The wind was comfortable compared to the humid heat the season brought. Instead of going home, he decided to head into Seabrook.

Willa wasn't wrong. Before this week, Zeb had only his speculations to go on that Bucky wasn't as bad as he seemed. It was childish of him to hope for something more with him. But he stood by his decision that everyone deserved kindness. Especially the people who didn't get it.

He wandered for a couple minutes before he saw a familiar form. It was Bucky. He looked awful. Something was wrong.

He supposed adrenaline was the only thing keeping him from passing out. He staggered through the streets. The streetlights blurring together into streaks of light. The houses and trees blurring into paint strokes. He didn't know why he didn't dress his wounds before he left. He needed to get out of the house.

Bucky ran into a solid object. Zebediah.

"We have to stop meeting like this."

Bucky needed to tell him about him helping him.

"I need to talk to you."

Zebediah looked him up and down. There was worry in his eyes, the same kind that Addison gives him.

"You need to get fixed up. Come on, we have stuff at my house."

He started to walk away.

"No, I'm fine I-"

"Bup bup bup. We are going to fix you up and then you can say whatever you needed to say."

Zebediah softly grabbed his fingers, urging him to follow him. He complied.

He didn't know why he was surprised when they walked through the gate. This was where all zombies lived. Zebediah would be no different. He had been here several times before, never really looking at the scenery, just thinking about how to impress his father. It was all trash. All of it. The house they walked in was barely put together. It was such a contrast to what he was used to. Even inside of Zebediah's room it wasn't much better. Everything in it looked as if it had been taken out of the trash. His nose wrinkled when he realized most of it probably was.

He didn't complain that the bed was uncomfortable, although it definitely was. Zebediah stood in between his legs. He had rags, tape, cotton sheets, a bowl, and a bottle of alcohol.

"It's the best I can do. We don't have any antiseptic, so I'm so sorry. This is going to hurt a lot. Tell me if you need me to stop."

Zebediah cradled the back of his head, wiping the blood from his face. He was soft. The rag dusting over his skin. His eyes fluttered closed and he was calm. Nothing could happen to him.

"Grab my arm if you need to."

Bucky didn't need to grab his arm. He wasn't a baby. Then the sting came and Bucky's eyes snapped open. He squeezed Zebediah's forearm. Hard. Zebediah looked into his eyes to make sure he was okay to continue, then covered the cuts that were still bleeding.

"I need you to take your shirt off."

Bucky started to, but he struggled. He couldn't get his arms over his head. Zebediah reached to help him, grabbing the hem of the collar.

"I can do it myself."

He didn't mean to snap. He just- He didn't need anybody's help. Zebediah removed his hands. Bucky messed with it for a couple of minutes before getting it off. Zebediah began to wipe the blood off of his abdomen. He kneeled in front of him, one hand on Bucky's lap. As he assumed, there were bruises everywhere. Little stamps imitating his father's rings. It stung again. Bucky grabbed his arm. He was certain he was hurting him. Still, he didn't complain. He simply circled to his back.

"There's nothing on your legs, is there?"

Bucky shook his head. The air was freezing when Zebediah took his hand away. He handed Bucky his shirt and left to put everything away. He did feel better, not great, obviously, but better. He wasn't covered in blood. That was good.

Bucky's eyes looked to the doorway as Zebediah entered. He sat on his bed and Bucky turned so they were facing the same way.

"Who did this to you?"

Bucky didn't answer. He knew the question would come up. He wanted to answer, but he knew what would happen if his parents ever got wind of it. To be fair he'd be dead meat if his parents knew where he was right now. Before he could decide Zebediah spoke up again.

"Were you in a fight?"

Bucky shook his head.

"Was it- Was it your parents?"

Bucky didn't say anything. He didn't nod or shake his head. He just stared at his toes, hands fiddling in his lap. It was a while before Bucky built up the courage to say anything at all.

"Please, don't tell anyone."

"But we need to help you. I can't just sit and do nothing."

"Just, please."

Zebediah's face worked, but he nodded. Neither of them spoke for some time. Bucky thought about what he said earlier, and the building curiosity forced him to ask.

"Earlier, you said we have to stop meeting like this. What did you mean? How do I know you?"

Zebediah chuckled, although Bucky couldn't think of what could be funny in this situation. Was it obvious? Was he forgetting some huge event?

"A couple years ago I was out past curfew. I heard somebody knock over a trashcan."

Bucky remembered the night he was talking about, not necessarily what he had done wrong, but certainly the punishment. Thinking back on it, Bucky should have known that the boy was a zombie. He hadn't gotten a good look at his face but he had been staring at his hands. Which were gray. And his clothes, no Seabrook citizen would go out dressed like that, even at night. Even then, he still thought about that encounter every now and then. He remembered his voice. It had lowered since then but it still had that same quality. This beautiful melodic tone that sucked you in, made you listen. How in the hell had he not recognized it?

"It's getting kind of late."

Bucky stilled at the thought of going home.

"You could stay if you like."

He let himself sink back into the bed, nodding his head gratefully.

"I don't have extra blankets or anything, but you can take the bed."

Zebediah went to leave the room and Bucky panicked. He couldn't be in here alone.

"Wait," Zebediah turned to look at him. "Could you sit by me?"

His eyes widened. Bucky shied away from his gaze, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck. It was his turn to be surprised when he felt the bed dip. Zebediah sat at the head of the bed, leaning against the wall. Bucky hesitantly moved to sit next to him. They sat silently for a while before Zebediah started talking.

"You know, you're gonna be great someday. Not that you're not great now. You're gonna get out of Seabrook. Find a big house, probably like four bedrooms with a pool in the backyard. You'll get a membership to the gym down the street."

It was soothing. So soothing that Bucky couldn't help but let his eyes close and his mind shut off.

Zebediah was in the middle of his story when Bucky fell on his lap. He pet his hair. This is why he did it, why he was so ceaselessly nice. Because you never knew what someone was hiding. Aware that his position was not the best for his back he tried to shift Bucky as best as he could into a lying position. He was going to sleep on the couch, but Bucky grabbed his arm. Zeb could've pulled away if he wanted, but he didn't want to hurt Bucky in any way. He laid on the bed, careful not to bump him. He was hyper-aware of every single move he made. He didn't want to do anything that could further injure him or make him uncomfortable.

Zeb had settled into a half-sleep when he felt an arm wrap around him. He startled awake before remembering Bucky was here. This was a dream come true. Zeb managed to settle back into a comfortable dream state.

Part Four

#disney zombies #z o m b i e s #disney channel original movie #disneys zombies #disney #z-o-m-b-i-e-s #bucky buchanan #bucky zombies #if you only knew you'd hate me #buckediah #chapter three #tw: swearing #tw: abuse #tw: violence

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nicole-lynne · 4 years

Text

All The Love Songs - Chapter One

Pairings: Jake Kiszka (eventually) x OFC Thea, OFC Thea x OMC Mason (past) Warnings: Cuss words, implications and mild descriptions of sex

Thea sat up from the bed, pulling the duvet cover with her to cover her naked body. Her black hair was matted to her neck with sweat and she peeled it off in a minor attempt to cool herself down. The feeling of his eyes on her back was sending tingles across her skin but she ignored it. She didn’t want him to know how much he affected her, not yet.

Bending down to grab her discarded ZZ Top shirt off the ground, she peeked up at him lounging sideways in her bed amongst the many pillows, his eyes closed peacefully. The milky glow of his skin blended in so well with her ivory sheets that he could almost be a fixture of her bedroom.

“Hey, Jake,” He hummed to acknowledge her, “do you want to maybe stay for a bit? I was about to order some chinese before you came over.” She asked, casually reorganizing a pile on her desk so she didn’t seem too interested.

He was quiet for a long time before there was a deep sigh. She knew what that meant, she began to internally prepare herself for the letdown.

“T, I think we need to talk...”

Jake swung his legs off the side of the bed and placed his elbows on his knees, rubbing his eyes a few times, something he usually did when there was a headache coming. His long hair draped around his face like a curtain, shielding him from her eyes.

Thea tossed his boxers in his direction, watching him reach out and catch them before they hit the floor. Her eyes lingered for a fraction of a second on his profile before she started to search the floor for the rest of her clothes.

“It’s not a big deal, Kiszka. I was just trying not to make you feel like I’m using you for your body.” She was trying to sound sassy but there was a sharp edge to the teasing.

He tilted his head to watch her as she paced around the room, standing the chair up that they had knocked over, straightening a picture frame on the wall, picking up the books that had tumbled to the floor. Methodically, she cleaned up any evidence that he had ever been there.

The vinyl record was crackling quietly, waiting for one of them to turn the record to the other side. Neither of them made the move to do it.

Jake cradled his head in his hand. “I know we haven’t really talked about this before, T. I’m just not looking for anything more serious right now.”

“No, I get that, I do. You’re just wanting a hook-up,” She plastered a fake smile on, “and I am totally fine with that.”

“Thea...”

“Jake, it’s fine, really. I was offering you chinese food, not my dowry.” Jake frowned, he hated when she tried to make light of a serious conversation. But Thea ignored the frown and began to dig around her drawer for a new pair of underwear.

He stood up and crossed the room in a few strides. His hand fell on her shoulder and he turned her around to face him. Tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering on her cheek. Heat radiated from his body and she dropped her gaze to the small space in between them. Jake’s other hand landed on her waist and her body shivered involuntarily.

The minimal light was hitting the angle of his face and all she could think of was good and bad. The tiniest hint that he could protect her always, but the underlying pain that was just around the corner.

“I’m not trying to be a dick here, T. I’m just trying to be honest with you. I like you and I like what we’ve got going on, we’ve been friends for a while now. I just don’t have anything more to give right now.” Lightly, Jake tilted her chin up, compelling her gaze to meet his. There was little furrow in his brow as if he were begging her to understand. “Besides, you and I both know there are other factors in this...”

Thea knew exactly what he meant. Her best friend and roommate, Sam, who just happened to also be Jake’s younger brother. They’d met on the first day she’d arrived in the city and had been inseparable ever since. If Sam had any inkling that she had hooked up with Jake, on numerous occasions, he would be devastated.

But inside this room, within these four walls, the rest of the world faded away and it was just her and Jake. But at the end of the day, if it ever left the bedroom, she would lose one of her best friends, and Jake...well, he didn’t want it to leave the bedroom.

Stifling a sigh, Thea mustered up a tiny smile. “It’s all good, Jake. We’re friends...and the bedroom stuff will stay exactly that, bedroom stuff.”

Jake inched forward and pecked a simple kiss on her cheek, his hair tickling her skin. “Thanks for understanding, you’re the best. And hey, you and Gina are still coming to our show tomorrow night, right?” In an instant, he was distracted, plucking his shirt off the lamp where it had landed. “We’ve been working on some really great stuff and I think an agent is supposed to be coming.”

“You know we never miss any of your shows. We’re, like, you’re biggest fans.” Thea said with a fake valley girl accent. Jake snorted and chucked her jeans straight at her head which she caught at the last second.

“Show starts at nine, groupies usually get there early to smoke up and show us their tits. I’ll be waiting for ya.”

“Shut up, you dick.” She shoved his shoulder in jest while he tugged his boot on and giggled at the mutter of obscenities coming from him when he tipped into the dresser.

Jake turned to dig around for his flannel and Thea took the chance to admire the muscles in his back. He yanked it out from behind the beanbag chair and whipped around, and she cleared her throat, pretending like she hadn’t just been staring at him.

Slapping her hands against her thighs, she awkwardly inched toward the door. “Well, we better get you out of here before anyone gets home...”

“Right, that’s probably a good idea. I think Sam’s shift gets done in like ten minutes.” Jake ran his fingers through his hair a few times for good measure and moved to the door. He looked gorgeous for someone who’d just had crazy sex. “I was serious, T. I like you and I like this thing we have going.”

Pausing for a moment, he looked down at Thea and gave her a weak smile. She wanted to be angry or hurt, but deep down, she knew that anything he was willing to give, she’d take happily..

No reassuring thoughts came to her so instead, Thea smiled and gave him a curt nod. She twisted the doorknob and let him slip out, following close behind him.

Her heart jumped to a stop as she rounded the corner and spotted Gina, her other roommate, standing in the kitchen. She must have gotten home from her dance class earlier than expected because her usual springy curls were still pulled up into a bun and she was wearing her sweats and a crop top. From across the room, Thea could feel her annihlating glare.

“Sup, Gi. See you at the gig tomorrow.” Jake said nonchalantly and bee-lined for the front door.

“Bye Jake, see ya later.” Gina replied tersely, her harsh stare never leaving your face.

The door slammed shut and it was deadly silent between the two friends. Thea fiddled with her thumbs, just waiting for the storm. She knew Gina better than anyone else in the world and she wasn’t going to be too happy that she hadn’t been the first one privy to the knowledge that Thea was sleeping with their friend.

“So?”

“So...”

“When the hell did this happen?” Gina tossed her water bottle in the trash and jumped onto the counter, crossing her arms. Her tawny skin was lit with the simmering fire of her anger.

Thea leaned against the counter next to her and buried her face into her arms, her voice muffled into the shirt sleeve. “Just a little while ago. You remember that day we were all supposed to meet at Mo’s but all of you guys ditched?” Gina nodded once. “Well, Jake ended up showing up and we just got to talking. For like a few hours. And one thing led to another and we were back here, tearing each other’s clothes off.”

“So are you two dating now or something?”

“No, we’re not dating.” The words tasted like bile.

Gina fell back onto the heels of her hands. “Shit. So you’re just fuck buddies then?”

“You really don’t have to say it like that. We’re just friends...who have sex occasionally.”

“So fuck buddies?”

Thea’s face pinched up. “Do you have to be so crass about it? It’s not a big deal so stop making it out to be one.”

Gina’s eyes narrowed at her, “T, you haven’t really been interested in sex with many people since-” Thea threw her hand up to stop her from uttering the next word. “Since you-know-who. This is a big deal and we both know it.” Thea just groaned and resumed her position of hiding in her arms. “Are you, like, into Jake? As more than a friend?”

“I don’t want to answer that.” Thea paused. “I guess I don’t know the answer to that. I mean, yes? When he’s around, we just connect in a way I haven’t felt in a long time. And when he’s not around...well, I wish he was.”

“It sounds like you like him.”

“Yeah, but he doesn’t want anything serious. So it’s kind of a moot point at the moment.”

Those words quieted Gina instantly which made Thea uneasy. It had never been said that Gina knew how to keep her opinion to herself. Once in middle school, she had told a teacher that she had the face of a man and the nose of a dog. It had landed her a week in detention. Nowadays, she had a little more tact but was more or less the same girl.

“Are you gonna say anything?” Thea stomped her foot inpatiently.

Gina threw up one finger. “Give me one second to process the fact that my best friend and one of my good friends are bumping uglies.” Thea grimaced. “So...how was the sex?”

“Gina! Seriously?”

“It’s for research purposes!” Gina declared. “Besides, I’ve always wondered how Jake was in bed. I bet he’s an animal, am I right?”

Thea pinched her lips together bitterly but Gina gave her a knowing smirk. “It’s mind-blowing, okay? Geez. He does this thing with his tongue and he’ll move me around in ways I never knew I could move and...oh god, he’s amazing.

“I knew it. Jake’s a tough guy to pinpoint but, I’m telling you, the man is dripping with pure sex appeal.”

Thea couldn’t even disagree because everything about Jake screamed sexy. Girls were always hitting on him, no matter where they went. At first she’d found it annoying because, geez, couldn’t they go anywhere without girls giggling hysterically when he looked at them. Now she was used to it, and a little part of her knew that she was the one he was hooking up with. She hoped she was the only one.

“G, I need coffee, now.”

“You mean a distraction?”

“Look, I can’t be talking about this when Sam gets home and I’m starting to get a headache. Can you please just lay off for five minutes and get coffee with me?”

Gina cringed. “Oh shit, Sam, I forgot all about him. You know he’s going to be crushed when he finds out about this.”

“I know, I know. That’s why he can’t know.” Gina frowned. “Please, G? I can’t lose Sammy because of this.”

“Okay, now I need coffee.” Gina grabbed her violet mesh jacket off the back of the chair and slipped it on. Thea bobbed her head in agreeance and shoved her converse on her feet. Remembering at the last second, she ran over and scrawled a messy note on the dry erase board telling Sam they’d be home in a little while.

~~~

“So tell me more about this tongue thing that Jake does.”

“Gina-” Thea glanced around at the packed coffee shop. No one was paying any attention to the two girls but she still felt like Gina’s voice was amplified.

“Don’t Gina me, this is important information. I am now living vicariously through you and must know all the dirty little details of you and Jake doing the four-legged foxtrot.”

Thea balked and turned back to the menu board. “You are seriously disturbed, you know that?”

“I do, and that’s why you love me.” She replied proudly, noticing that Thea was studying the menu diligently. “Why are you even looking at the menu, you get the same thing every day.” Gina asked, Thea just rolled her eyes. Maybe she would branch out this time. “At least tell me if he’s as big as I’m imagining, because I’ve seen him in those skinny jeans and...damn.”

Her eyes darted to Gina for a fraction of a second, the tiniest of smiles on her lips.

“I freakin knew it.” Gina gripped her arm and squealed loudly, actively disregarding Thea’s attempts to shush her. A few of the customers looked up at the commotion and Thea waved at them. “If you hadn’t opened up the biggest can of worms in our friend group, I would thoroughly applaud you for snatching that beast of a man.”

Thea laughed ridiculously and started to say something when a voice interrupted her.

“Sunshine?”

No, it couldn’t be. Only one person ever called her that.

Thea’s eyes widened comically and she shifted on her feet slightly, turning around coming face-to-face with her ex-boyfriend, Mason. He gave her a crooked grin - the one that used to always make her heart skip a beat.

“Mason? What the heck!” Gina pronounced from behind her.

“Hey, Gina! Oh man, it’s great to see you guys.” He leaned forward and embraced Gina in a tight hug, his dark brown eyes never leaving Thea’s face over Gina’s head. “How are you, sunshine?”

“Uh, I-I’m good.” She stuttered. “Wait, what are you doing here?”

Mason angled his head slightly, a teasing sparkle in his eye. “Um, getting coffee?”

Thea looked at him unamused. “I figured that one out, captain obvious. I mean here, in New York.”

“I knew that, babe.” He winked and her stomach flipped nervously. “I’m here with Declan-”

“Declan’s here?” Gina piped up. “That punk didn’t tell me he was gonna be in town.”

“He was with me here a minute ago...”

Declan had been Mason’s best friend since diapers and it wasn’t very often that you found Mason without Declan a few steps behind. Mason glanced around just as a guy popped up at his side.

When Thea had first met Declan in middle school, he had been a short, scrawny kid with bright red hair that was usually sticking up in all different directions. He could barely walk three steps without tripping or knocking something down. Mason had been the complete opposite. He was tall and his reflexes were always quick. He was comfortable in his skin and could make anyone else feel comfortable with themselves too.

Thea and Gina had been partnered with Mason and Declan on a research project for english and after that, the group went everywhere together. Many nights and weekends spent at someone’s house or hanging out at the mall.

“Hey, Thea! Ah, Gina, how are you?” Declan jumped forward and gave both girls hugs. He had gone through a total growth spurt in sophmore year and now he towered over them both.

“Dec, I’ve missed you. I meant to call you last week but I took a couple extra dance classes.” Thea’s eyes wrinkled, confused. “You didn’t mention that you were coming to New York. And you didn’t mention that you were bringing this troublemaker.” Gina patted Mason’s arm lightly and a dorky grin spread on his face.

“I didn’t realize that you guys all still kept in touch so much.” Thea’s voice cracked slightly.

“Well, it’s mostly just Gina and I lately. I know you’ve been so busy with your job lately.” Declan looked down bashfully. “Anyways, I meant to get in touch to let you know we were coming.”

“Excuse me?” A voice snapped loudly.

All four heads snapped up to see a disgruntled cashier and a few customers behind them were shooting them nasty looks. They’d completely forgotten that they were standing in line.

Mason stepped forward and ordered his and Declan’s drinks, “and she’ll have an iced mocha latte, two extra pumps of mocha.” He still remembered her order. “Gina, you want your usual?” Gina nodded happily and went back to chatting animatedly with Declan.

“Mas, you don’t have to get our drinks.” Thea tugged on his jacket sleeve.

“Hush, it’s been so long since I’ve seen you, just let me get your coffee.” He waved her away and handed his card to the lady with a genuine smile.

Thea’s mind was reeling. She hadn’t seen Mason in years and now he was standing right in front of her, remembering her coffee order and demanding that he be allowed to pay for it. He’d always been the kind of guy to put others before himself and remember the small details. In a flash, she was back in high school, completely head over heels for the kid.

Mason moved to the end of the counter next to where Thea was standing and shoved his hands in his pockets. She took the chance to study him. He was still wearing his classic jean jacket and hoodie combo, only to be complimented with his wide array of colorful vans. Today’s color was orange. His curly brown hair was still a mop on his head but, somehow, it looked as cute as ever, just a little longer. Overall, he was still her Mason.

“So you guys in town for very long?”

“Um,” He shifted, “we’re actually here looking for apartments...”

Thea’s jaw dropped. “Wait, you two are moving here? Like permanently?”

“Yes, permanently. It’s always been the plan, and it’s just kind of working out for me now. Declan landed this great job and I figured, I might as well tag along. Best friends take on New York and all that jazz. It’s not like I had much going on back at home.” He let out a breathy chuckle, “Besides, I knew you and G were here so I figured we could get the band back together, so to speak.”

“That’s so amazing!” She cringed internally. That was way too peppy of a reaction. This entire situation was anything but normal and she certainly wasn’t able to act normal around Mason. Not now that she knew he was going to be in the same city as her. Distantly, she could tell she kept playing with her hair too much but it was her nervous habit, and if there was a time for it, this was it.

The barista interrupted her string of panicked thoughts by calling out their name and set the cups on the counter. Gina and Declan scooped them up quickly and moved to where they were standing to pass them out. Gina shot her a reassuring look and Thea gave her a half smile in response.

“Well, I hate to break up the reunion, but we have a walkthrough scheduled in like twenty minutes. It probably won’t look very good if we show up late.” Declan said, pointing to his watch anxiously the way she’d seen him do a million times over the years.

“Some things never change, huh?” Mason whispered to her and she hid a laugh behind her hand.

Gina and Declan walked towards the door, Mason and Thea trailing after them. Occasionally they would make eye contact and she’d instantly look away, a stupid smile on her face.

They stopped outside and all huddled together. It was as if no time had passed them and they would be meeting up after Mr. Taylor’s history class to go to lunch.

“Okay, so you’re going to text me and we’re going to get lunch or dinner soon, right? All of us.” Gina demanded, giving Mason and Thea a pointed look. “And don’t even try to give me a crap excuse because I know every one of your tells so I’ll know if you lie, Mason James Bowen.”

Mason looked bewildered. “Okay, geez, I’m fine for dinner. I think Dec has a few more showings scheduled today but what about tomorrow night? ”

“U-uh, umm.” Thea stuttered

“We actually have plans tomorrow with some friends-” Gina recovered smoothly.

“But you guys can come if you want!” Thea manically interjected. “Their band is playing at this bar around the corner, Owl Music Parlor. It’s gonna be a lot of fun.”

Shocked, Gina’s jaw dropped. The last thing she’d expected was for Thea to so willingly invite her old group of friends to mingle with her new group of friends.

“Uh yeah, you guys should come out. Cover is usually really cheap and the band will blow your minds. It starts at 10 but we usually get there a little early.”

Mason and Declan shared a look and shrugged, “Sure, that sounds great. We’ll meet you guys there. Hopefully, we’ll be celebrating our acquisition of a new apartment.” Thea and Mason locked eyes across the huddle and smiled at each other.

Declan cleared his throat, “So, Mas, the showing? I don’t want to miss out on the place, it’s supposed to have two bathrooms.”

Mason switched his attention back to Declan, “yeah, let’s hit it dude. Alright, ladies, we will see your beautiful faces tomorrow.” He gave them a small wave and ran to catch up with Declan, who was already speed walking halfway down the street.

Linking arms, the girls walked down the sidewalk. Silence fell over them as both of them considered the possibilities of tomorrow night.

“Hey G?” Gina glanced at Thea. “Please tell me that I didn’t just invite Mason to hang out with the guys?”

“Oh, baby, you sure did.”

Thea slapped her forehead with an ugly growl. “Why didn’t you stop me?”

“Girl, you got sucked into the Mason vortex and there was no getting you out.” She laughed. “It was like a car wreck, I couldn’t look away.”

It was quiet again, the only sound being their footsteps on the concrete. Then Gina spoke up again, “ya know, it’s kind of strange that we were just talking about you getting over Mason. Now he’s back and you tripped right back into being mayor of Mason town.”

Thea grimaced at the implication that she suddenly might not be over the man who had crushed her heart. Talk about comedic timing.

Tomorrow night her two worlds were going to collide. Two worlds that she never, in a million years, believed would be coming together. And she should be freaked out. But instead, her mind was stuck on how cute Mason looked in his orange hoodie and how hard her heart was pounding when his gorgeous smile was directed at her.

#jake kiszka #jake kiszka gvf #greta van fleet #gvf #jake kiszka x oc #jake kiszka fanfic #jake kiszka fanfiction #greta van fleet story #fanfiction #original female character #nicole-lynnefics

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hiddendreamer67 · 5 years

Note

“sing me a song please?” Could you please write a platonic Analogical with this?

VIRGIL AND THE BEANSTALK PART 3

Check out more of my writing at @hiddendreamerwriting! Also you can find links to the previous parts in my reblog.

———————————————————————————————————–

The way Logan was looking at Virgil was…unnerving, especially because Virgil couldn’t figure out what the Giant was thinking.

“Uh, what was that all about?” Virgil figured it wouldn’t hurt to ask. He was surprised when Logan actually answered.

“Patton is quick to form emotional attachments.” Logan explained. “Because of this, he was blind to the last human’s behavior and continues to believe that he is capable of redemption. It seems as though he expects the human to return any day with our belongings and an apology.”

“Oh.” Virgil supposed it was possible, but he was more of a pessimist. He believed the worst in people. Not to mention, this ‘Dee’ guy- if that was even his real name- had already massively screwed Virgil over in sending him here, so Virgil wasn’t exactly his biggest fan.

Virgil tensed, watching Logan get up, and he expected those fingers to wrap around his form at any moment. Yet surprisingly, that wasn’t the case. Logan seemed to pay him no mind as he walked down to the other end of the very long dining table. The giant disappeared through a doorway, and Virgil marveled at the fact he was left alone. This freedom was short-lived, however, when Logan returned. A book in hand, the giant sat down at the far end of the table, setting the large volume down and beginning to read.

Virgil kept a cautious eye on Logan, slowly getting up. Hoping the giant would be preoccupied, Virgil began to creep towards the edge of the table.

“I would advise against that.” Logan’s voice made Virgil jump. Despite the fact Logan didn’t look up from the book, it was clear he was addressing the human. “The fall would likely be fatal.”

One glance over the table proved this assumption was correct. Virgil gulped, quickly taking long strides to get back to the middle of the table. Guess he was stuck up here. Likely for some time, as Virgil was too proud to ask for help and everyone else seemed preoccupied. Of course, none of the giants would likely help him even if Virgil did request a lift to the ground. After all, they all still viewed him as a common thief.

“Sing me a song please.” Logan spoke up a few moments later, the pages rustling as he leafed through his book.

Virgil blanched at the request. “Excuse me?”

“Not you.” Logan rolled his eyes, and quietly Virgil’s ears began to pick up a soft tune coming from the other end of the room. Virgil scanned the area, noticing the source of the noise was a golden harp, sat atop a shelf behind Logan.

“What is that?” Virgil was in awe, traveling closer to Logan’s end of the table. The siren’s call was the most beautiful tune Virgil had ever heard. The harp was decorated with a golden figure, who was enchanted to sing the music that Logan had requested.

“It’s a golden harp.” Logan glanced up from his book, giving Virgil a wary glance as he came closer. “Don’t get any ideas; there’s a reason we put it at such an elevation.”

“Relax, I’m not going to steal your music box.” Virgil put up his hands to show he meant no harm.

Logan looked unconvinced, and even brought his book closer to his person as though concerned that the human would try to take this as well. Virgil sighed, sitting down a ways away from Logan to give the Giant space. He looked up, continuing to watch the harp.

“…it’s magic, isn’t it?” Virgil asked.

“Yes.” Logan’s curt answer confirmed his guess.

“I’ve never seen magic before.” Virgil admitted. “How’s it work?”

“Why do you feel entitled to answers?” Logan raised an eyebrow. “I thought you held no interest in possessing our belongings.”

“Jeez, I was just trying to make conversation.” Virgil frowned, slumping. “I was just curious.”

Virgil didn’t think simple curiosity should be punished. These giants seemed to disagree, but Logan at least looked at him with less contempt than before at this answer. The Giant tilted his head, studying Virgil and seeming to decide he was more intriguing than his novel as he pushed the text to the side.

Logan put his hands together, leaning forwards. The song began to fade out, leaving Virgil with a strange sense of loneliness.

“…what?” Virgil assumed the giant wanted something, shifting uneasily under his gaze.

“Why are you here?” Logan asked suddenly.

“Uh, magic beans?” Virgil thought back to the events of the day before. “What does it matter?”

“That much was to be assumed.” Logan waved off his explanation. “What I meant was, few humans would dare to climb such a plant. You’re either brave or foolish, but either way there must be a motive.”

“I’m neither.” Virgil corrected. “I didn’t climb it at all; my house got thrown into the sky. The beans accidentally got planted beneath my home, I don’t notice, and next day I wake up hundreds of feet in the air.”

“I see.” Logan frowned slightly. “But given the opportunity, would you have climbed the great stalk?”

“Nope.” Virgil shook his head, both because he was honest and because he assumed this was the answer Logan would want. He certainly wasn’t fond of the idea of risking his life climbing a hundred-foot plant.

“Not even at the implication of immeasurable wealth?” Logan gave the human a knowing look as though he had caught Virgil in the act.

“I don’t want your wealth.” Virgil insisted for the hundredth time.

“Everyone wants something.” Logan countered.

“Well, all I want is to go home.” Virgil glared back at the giant. Logan looked unfazed, turning his gaze out towards a large window across the table.

“It appears at the given moment your home is rather in shambles.” Logan observed. Virgil tried to follow his gaze, but he was too short to see the same view outside. Virgil could only assume that’s where the beanstalk had grown and broken his home into several pieces.

“Yeah, well, at least it’s mine.” Virgil muttered, having not really thought of that.

“Were you perhaps referring to a different definition of the word ‘home’?” Logan asked, turning back to Virgil. “Are there individuals waiting for you upon the earth below? Should we be concerned about multiple intruders?”

Virgil’s glare deepened. “…I live alone.” His tone was dark, not particularly fond of the way Logan seemed to imply that if Virgil did have any family they’d only be a nuisance. Then of course there was the fact that Virgil was never fond of discussing his home life.

“I see.” Logan let out an unimpressed hum, quite different from the usual pitying looks Virgil received when he talked about his lack of a family. It would have been refreshing actually if it weren’t so secretly degrading. “In that case, if you have no physical or social home below, why are you intent on returning?”

“At least on Earth everything isn’t freakishly huge.” Virgil spat.

“There is no need to get defensive.” Logan said, and that only made Virgil more furious.

“Yes, there is!” Virgil argued. “I can tell what you’re doing, and I’m not going to play your little mind games. I’m not staying here, and that’s final.”

“Who said anything about staying here?” Logan’s expression was almost confused, but Virgil was still on edge.

“You’re implying it.” Virgil hissed. “Asking about my ties to Earth, as though trying to figure out what I’d be leaving behind. Testing the waters, trying to see if I’ll actually be missed or if you’ll be safe in your kidnapping. ‘Oh, look at the little orphan, the poor little thing. Guess we’ll just keep him here for his own good.’” Virgil knew the type. Even back on the earth below, people were always trying to decide what was best for him, forgetting that Virgil had a voice of his own.

Oh, you poor thing. They would coo. Losing your parents, you must be so devastated.

Yeah, of course he was. But that certainly didn’t mean Virgil wanted strangers coming up to him reminding the boy of the nightmares that haunted him at night. And yet, if Virgil turned them away, he was accused of being an unfeeling monster who didn’t care about the loss of his parents. Of course he had cared. He cared so much that it destroyed him, leaving just the apathetic shell as others now perceived him.

“Well, I refuse.” Virgil continued, focusing on the much larger problems of the present. “Even if I have nowhere else to go, I won’t stay here and be your complicit little lapdog, alright?”

To his surprise, Logan looked almost appalled at the idea. “You have me mistaken for my brothers.” Logan explained. “I have no desire to keep you here. Indeed, I want nothing more than for you to leave.”

“Oh yeah?” Virgil raised an eyebrow. “We’re alone. There’s no one stopping you from taking me back. Why am I still here then?”

“You stated you didn’t intend to climb the stalk.” Logan reminded him. “That is the only known exit.”

“Well I’d climb DOWN!” Virgil yelled, exasperated at the way this giant seemed to always twist his words. “That’s different. Climbing down is much different.”

“I’m not sure that’s how it works; regardless, my brothers would be quite devastated if I released you.” Logan let out a small sigh of annoyance, as though he were discussing taking the last sweet from the bin and not the fate of Virgil’s life. “I would never hear the end of it.”

“What, so I’m just doomed to be a little captive here for the rest of my life because you don’t feel like communicating with your siblings about how it’s wrong to capture people?” Virgil glared at Logan, feeling brave in his anger.

“Well, as you said,” Logan shrugged, opening up his book once more and looking bored of this conversation, “you have nowhere else to go.”

Virgil stopped, not believing this was truly happening. Logan was the only one with any common sense in this hell, and yet even he didn’t seem bothered by this horrible fate that Virgil was trapped in. The human tried to steady his breathing, the full reality of his situation beginning to sink in when he thought about truly spending the rest of his life here.

“Please.” Virgil begged, his voice cracking slightly as emotions threatened to overwhelm him. He had only been here a day and was already breaking under the pressure. “Please, help me. I don’t have anyone else here to trust.”

“A pity.” Logan murmured. Virgil was pouring his heart out and the giant wasn’t even listening.

“What about all that talk about not wanting me to stay, huh?” Virgil insisted. “I know you hate me. Just get rid of me now. Don’t let your brothers push you around like this.”

“Contrary to popular belief, I don’t hate you as an individual.” Logan corrected. “I just am distrustful of your kind and prefer to keep our worlds separated.”

“Yes! Exactly, so do that!” Virgil exasperated, tears collecting in his eyes. “Take me to the garden, hell, say that I got away. I’ll chop down the beanstalk, I won’t take anything, I’ll destroy the beans. No one will ever bother you again I swear on my life just let me go home!”

Logan finally, finally looked up from his book, processing the expression on Virgil’s face. “…are you crying?”

“What do you think?” Virgil sniffled, not even bothering to hold them back anymore as his breath became ragged. Maybe it would earn him some pity points. Although, looking at Logan’s expression, that wasn’t likely.

“Oh. Feelings.” The giant pulled back his book, cringing as though he expected the tears to ruin his precious pages. He turned to the doorway, calling louder and stabbing a stake directly into Virgil’s heart. “Patton! It’s crying!”

“NO!” Virgil screeched, pulling at his hair as he heard heavy footsteps rushing towards them. “NO, you stuck up, horrible, unfeeling, terrible, monstrous- gack!” The rest of Virgil’s insults were cut off, the little breath he had knocked out of his lungs as he was grabbed up harshly in a new set of hands.

“Aww, it’s okay!” Patton cooed, and Virgil found himself harshly pressed into flesh in what he assumed was the giant’s asinine attempt at a hug. “It’s okay, shhh, I’m right here. Sorry, Logan. I’ll take him away.”

“Yes, please do.” Logan’s tone sounded uncomfortable, gazing at Virgil with a sort of pained expression. Through his blurry vision Virgil glared back at him, cold-blooded.

#virgil and the beanstalk #jack and the beanstalk au #g/t #sanders sides #human!virgil #giant!patton #giant!logan #beanstalk #giant

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chwetuan · 5 years

Text

Uncertainty - Im Jaebeom x Reader (a, f)

1. Requested: i was wondering if i could request a jaebum high school au + prompt 10 please! could be angsty or fluffy I don't mind! and i just also wanted to say that i love all your works 💕💕 ( @trinityysl )

2: Summary: Graduation is only a few months away, but here you sit, in your boyfriend’s bedroom with a pregnancy test in the bathroom and uncertainty clouding the future ahead of you (1.3k).

3. Warnings/Ratings: language, pregnancy scare

4. A/N + Disclaimer: First - My love, I am so so so sorry for taking incredibly long with this request. This was not my original plan for the storyline, but this is what I came up with after one rewriting session. Secondly - This is a fic that I am very nervous about posting. In no way am I attempting to say that teenage/unplanned pregnancies are wrong. As a teenager myself, and a result of teenage pregnancy, I support the use of protection and educating teens on safe, consensual sex. This piece is fictional, and the situation depicted is not the reality for many teens. Use this as a reminder to stay protected and prevent a situation that will change your life forever from happening.

Your mother refused to call your boyfriend anything other than teenage heartthrob. Granted, she wasn’t completely incorrect.

Even if his shoulders were a little broader, hair a little softer, smile a little brighter, and voice a little deeper, Jaebeom was still a normal teenager.

He stayed up too late playing video games, forgot to iron his uniforms, and on more than one occasion, found himself in the principal’s office for minor infractions.

But Jaebeom, regardless of how intimidating he could seem, was soft at heart. This you knew.

He was an utter goof, with a love for cats and a laugh that ran the rain away.

You mother isn’t wrong when she says he’s a teenage heartthrob, the only part she’s neglecting to mention is that he’s yours.

~~~

You had spent the entire morning peeling off the pretty purple nail polish your sister worked so hard to manicure. It was cheap — a $4 dollar polish you bought at the grocery store the beginning of your freshman year.

It was cheaper than the pregnancy tests you’d managed to buy at the pharmacy only months before graduation.

Three months, to be exact. Three months until you were scheduled to walk across the stage and accept the diploma, with honors, you’d been busting your ass for since you were 14.

But here’s the thing about high school — it doesn’t teach you about anything real. It prepares you for nothing that comes after the cap and gown. It doesn’t prepare you for pregnancy tests, or job hunting, anxiety, or moving out.

Nothing real.

Regardless, that's where you were. Three months away from graduating, sitting on the bus in your school uniform, blazer laid across your thighs as you bounced your knee to the sound of whatever obnoxious, overplayed song was buzzing in the background.

The binders not the only thing weighing down your bag, and assignments due the following week not the only thing weighing down your mind.

~~~

You manage to make it through your first two classes before JB tugs you aside by the strap of your backpack, an unamused expression on his face.

He leans against the row of lockers, hands shoved in his pockets and tie hanging loose around his neck.

“Avoiding me today, are we?”

“I’m not.”

He watches as you tug at the sleeves of your blazer, a nervous habit. “Okay.”

You know he doesn’t believe you, but you also know that you weren’t avoiding him. At least, not consciously.

A still silence settles between the two of you as his eyes scan your features.

“What?”

He shrugs, checking his watch and fiddling with the strap of his backpack, slung over one shoulder. “Nothing.”

~~~

In true teenage fashion, your boyfriend proceeds to ghost you for the next three days.

“You aren’t fighting, are you?” Your mother asks one of those mornings.

You don’t think it’s meant to be a fight, but Jaebeom is stubborn and you’re even worse. You don’t know why you’re not talking, and you guess you’d know if you talked to him, but for some reason, you refuse to be the one to break the silence.

But on the fourth day, a convenient Friday afternoon, Jaebeom is standing in front of your locker.

“Are you in the mood to tell me what’s wrong, today?” He asks, a hand coming up to palm your waist as you cross your arms. The way he emphasizes his words make your stomach churn.

“Oh, you’re in the mood for talking?”

“I’m worried about you.”

A bitter laugh leaves your lips. “You really don’t seem it.”

He sighs, his hand dropping from your side and finding purchase in his pocket. “You didn’t want to talk to me.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You fucking dodged me until I came and found you.” He points out, the thinly veiled concern in his voice becoming masked in irritation.

Running a hand through your hair, you reply dismissively.

“I was not ignoring you.”

“Okay. If that’s how you want to look at it.”

“It’s not how I wan-“

He cuts you off. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on or not?” The words are curt. He closes his eyes and inhaled deeply before continuing. “Baby, I-“

“My period is late, Jaebeom.”

~~~

On Saturday morning, you find yourself sitting cross-legged on Jaebeom’s bed. It’s only a little after 11, sun filtering through the curtains in streams of gold. JB is leaning against his desk, fiddling with the ring on his finger. He’s dressed comfortably, but his entire body is tense.

His parents are gone for the weekend, leaving the house unusually quiet, save for the sounds of guitar strumming coming from his sister’s bedroom and the bell of his cat’s collar jingling in the background.

“My parents are going to kill me.”

With a roll of his stiff shoulders, he responds. “Correction, your parents are going to kill us. A baby isn’t made by one person.”

You sigh, head dropping into your hands. “We don’t know if there’s a baby, yet.”

“We will in a few minutes.”

Jaebeom’s voice doesn’t waver, but you can tell that he’s scared. He’s scared, but he’s trying his best for you, and it makes your heart clench more than it brings you relief.

A nervous tear falls from your eye, and you think about the future.

You’re too young to have a baby. You’ve barely grown out of your own home, with college and moving out planned for the next couple of months.

You don’t have the money for a baby. Your part-time job at the pizzeria doesn’t provide funding for cribs and diapers.

What will happen to you and Jaebeom? Will you lose your scholarships? Will your parents kick you out? Will you stay together?

His voice pulls you from the downward spiral of your thoughts.

“Come here.”

You can’t help but practically melt into his touch as he wipes the tears from your eyes. “It’s okay, it’ll be okay.” He whispers into the crown of your head, arms holding you firmly against his chest.

“It isn’t.”

“It will be. We’re gonna make it work, okay? Regardless of what that pee-stick says.”

His choice of terminology throws you off, some semblance of a laugh leaving your lips as you taste the salt of your tears.

“It’s not a pee-stick.”

The timer set on JB’s phone goes off, bringing you back to reality.

He releases you, turning the timer off and lifting his head to meet your eyes.

Your heart is in your throat. You’re scared beyond belief, feeling as if you’re freezing and burning simultaneously.

“Do you want me to look at it?”

“No, I’ll do it.”

You walk across the hall to the bathroom, and with a clenched fist at your side, you peer nervously at the test resting on the sink.

One line, negative.

~~~

You get your period three days later. You’ve never been happier to get your period in your life.

You immediately call JB, who laughs at your excitement, but is equally relieved.

Graduation comes and goes. Your parents never know about the scare, not until years down the line, when over Italian food and strong wine, and a ring on your finger, you tell them the story.

Jaebeom holds your hand under the table. He’s not your teenage heartthrob anymore, but rather, your husband, with the same deep voice, broad shoulders, and love for cats.

He’s still yours, in a more complete sense. You feel it when you walk down the aisle, when you move into your first house together, and when you hear the words “I love you” every night before bed. You feel it when his smile is the first thing you see, and the last thing in your mind as you dream of the future, and what it will bring.

So different than the uncertainty of 18.

#got7 reactions #got7 scenarios #jaebeom x reader #jb x reader #got7 x reader #got7 imagines #got7 fanfiction #kpop reactions #kpop scenario #kpop fluff #got7 fluff

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smygarding · 5 years

Text

devil | Katakuri Charlotte x Male!Reader

General information:

Katakuri Charlotte (Dogtooth) x Male!Reader

warning(s): hurt&comfort - anxiety&depression reader info: the reader will go by he/him/his pronouns. word count: 2243 song inspiration: Devil by Shinedown other info: this work does not follow any plot in the anime, but it exists in the same universe. please note that this is also posted on my quotev and deviantart. this is not beta read, so please excuse me if you see any mistakes.

When Katakuri Charlotte opened his eyes after having woken up by the sun tickling him in his stitch littered face, he felt the way too familiar feeling fill up and bubble in his stomach. Glaring towards the heavy curtains who had let a tiny ray of light shine through, Katakuri bit down on his dry lip until he could taste the metallic flavour a bit too well. Yet he couldn’t make himself to leave the bed to close them completely.

Ah, so it was one of those days.

All he wanted to do was to pull the heavy covers over his entire body and pretend as if he didn’t exist. Even if it was just for a couple of hours, minutes or seconds.

It hurt to think about his duties as the minister of flour, as a sweet general, as the second son and as the perfect son.

Katakuri rumbled with annoyance and wished nothing more than to sink into his huge bed and disappear. However, if he didn’t get out of bed someone was bound to knock on his door sooner or later.

Still, a few more minutes wouldn’t hurt, right?

Nobody could deny him a few more minutes where he didn’t have to feel the lump in his stomach form into something more grotesque and gruesome.

Nobody could deny him a few more minutes without any heavy burdens weighing down his shoulders.

Nobody could deny him a few more minutes without having to put on a persona, where he didn’t have to hide himself and his own face from his family.

With a sigh and a huff, he grabbed the numbing duvet with his huge and calloused hand to pull it over himself in an attempt to disappear for a little while longer.

It didn’t feel right.

No matter what Katakuri did, he couldn’t get his hammering heart to slow down.

Ba-dump-ba-dump-ba-dump-ba-,

No use in counting his breath either. The rasping sound of his laboured breath from his parted lips as he inhaled and exhaled only made his heart wince in pain as if someone tightened barbed wire around it.

Anxiety weighed his chest down followed by a stinging pain in his skull.

Of course… Katakuri thought. Just what I needed, a migraine.

Another groan escaped his sharp-toothed mouth and as he closed his eyes in pure nausea the throbbing pain ebbed slowly but surely away.

“…kuri.”

“Katakuri.”

Huffing in annoyance, Katakuri opened his eyes only to be met with your tall frame leaning over him and your face inches away from his own. If it hadn’t been for his eyes getting used to the light who now reached even the darkest and most dusty corners in his room, he could have taken in your flawless smooth (s/c) features and your amazing (e/c) eyes without you covering back in fear due to his intense stare.

“What?” His mouth felt dry and his tone fell flat.

Katakuri was not a man of many words and this day was no exception.

He liked to keep it simple and the less he had to open his mouth, the less he was reminded of why he wore his scarf. And the happier Mama gets… He thought bitterly.

“I tried to call your den den mushi for several times now,” your eyes bore into his own, and he felt unable to look away. For what reason exactly Katakuri didn’t know yet, but he felt himself being captured by your (e/c) eyes and frozen in time as you sought after answers to why he wasn’t doing his duties.

“And?” Another curt answer rumbled from his chest and up his throat which caused your own eyes to glance down at his naked torso- barely covered by the heavy duvet he knew you had tugged at. It was a brief look, but Katakuri still caught it and felt weirdly smug about it.

As your fiancé by contract, Katakuri knew he was allowed to feel cautious and wary around you, not to mention conflicted and curious.

Cautious and wary because he didn’t know you as a person, he didn’t know your intentions for agreeing to the political marriage (not that you could refuse it in reality) nor how you would act around his family. Neither knew he why you seemed to accept him despite his huge flaws. It was no huge secret that he frightened you. That he knew. The look of fear and shock painted etched onto your face when you saw the real himfor the first time wasn’t easy to forget. Though you never showed disgust. If you did, it must have been completely concealed.

Then came the conflicted and curious feelings. Because despite every reason he listed in his mind, despite every self-loathing feelings surfacing and despite most of his siblings being against his engagement, Katakuri still felt drawn towards you. You made him curious about the smallest things concerning yourself, such as the fact that you were only 150cm shorter than him. How was that possible? Then there was the fact that he felt happy whenever you looked at him or paid attention to him.

What are you doing to me?

“And…” You repeated, ready give him a list of good reasons only for them to die at the tip of your tongue. “And you know what, just fuck it.”

Katakuri was startled by your sudden outburst. He had never seen you like this, relaxed, tired and just completely done at the same time. You didn’t even give him a chance to think again before you suddenly ripped the duvet completely off his body, exposing more of his tattoo and ripped figure. The embarrassment couldn’t even creep up his neck in form of a flush as you proceeded to climb into his huge and soft bed, laying down beside him as your eyes continued to search after something on his face.

It made him uneasy.

How easily you had joined him in bed, how you didn’t even flinch once as you took in every detail of his features with your studying and curious eyes, and how the warmth from your body made his own tingle with anticipation.

“What are you doing?” The sudden question seemed to startle both himself and you.

“I’m joining you, what else does it look like?” You surprised the magenta-haired male by answering so straightforwardly and casually as if resting beside your arranged 509cm fiancé was the simplest thing in the world.

Katakuri narrowed his eyes in a suspicious glare. What were you trying to achieve by doing this?

“Why are you bothering?”

The clear shock both your expressions mirrored each other and Katakuri wished he hadn’t let his doubt taken over.

More than anything, it was how venomous and accusing his voice sounded that made Katakuri wince and deepen the bite on his chapped lips. Instant regret filled up within when he saw you falter in your movements and avert your intense yet oddly gentle eyes away from his.

Uncertainness, confusion and pure anxiety were the scapegoats in the picture, and Katakuri wished fervently that he wasn’t stuck in the sticky grip of theirs, so he could apologise without having to fear total rejection.

No apology came, and the tension grew bigger by each second that passed in silence.

Why can’t I apologise? Katakuri thought, frowning at himself at how pathetic he had become. Why was it that you, a foreign prince, managed to make even the smallest words halter and disappear at the tip of his tongue?

The mistake was made, and it was Katakuri’s own creation. By letting his anxiety, anger and insecurities seep out, only to let them loose on you was something he had feared and predicted yet tried to avoid at any cost.

The damage was done, and the words said, and yet, you managed to surprise the sharp-toothed man again.

A warm and soft hand- almost as big as his own yet lacking callouses and roughness from violence- reached out and touched his scarred face with the gentlest care he ever felt.

“Why are you so scared?”

Your words squeezed every last ounce of air out his lungs, leaving him breathless and terrified.

Another hand joined the first and cupped his flawed cheeks, drawing his head closer towards your own. This warmth was completely new to Katakuri, foreign and frightening, but he didn’t reject it. Instead, he welcomed it and let your gentle hands take control in their caress.

Katakuri felt his lashed dip and eyes flutter in sync with his beating heart. As he let himself relax into your touch, everything slowed down and the former doubts forming the tight wire around his entire being disappeared as his heartbeat evened out.

He let out a shaky breath and inhaled your cologne that smelled softly of (fave scent).

What exactly am I afraid of?

You?

No words were spoken, and he opened his eyes again.

You were still beside him, closer than ever, cupping his face with your untainted hands and gazing into his eyes with your own clear ones- free from any form of prejudice and judgement.

“You can’t exceed the heavy expectations they lay upon you, you know?”

Katakuri chuckled dryly, tired. “What do you know about that? You’re just…” The last words stopped and Katakuri was glad he didn’t have the courage to finish the sentence.

“I’m just what?”

He had expected a sharp tone, but you succeeded to perplex him another time with your curious and calm question.

“I’m just me?” You asked again, guessing the correct word he didn’t answer to.

“So, what if I’m just myself. You’re just you and we’re both humans. Titles and blood don’t matter, nor do they count when it comes to our humanity.”

Another set of chuckles rumbled through Katakuri’s chest as if your words simply humoured him.

“Human isn’t something I’ve had the pleasure of being described as.” He explained bitterly, not expecting you to understand. You didn’t understand the weight of his existence and you didn’t know how his family worked.

A frown etched itself into your usual soft features, but your hands refused to leave their place. “The expectations and duties laid upon our beings shouldn’t define us as a person, Katakuri.”

How you addressed him caught his interest and as the sweet general found you (e/c) orbs, he knew he was unable to look away again.

Just what are you doing to me?

“We can’t exceed impossible ultimatums we don’t have the capability to fulfil and that’s completely okay, you know?”

“Why?”

How one word could sound so broken and shattered surprised you and hadn’t it been for the anxiety making itself known again, Katakuri would have relished the fact that the tables were turned.

“Because we’re humans. Because sometimes we’re not meant to do the impossible and instead of using innumerable measures and strength reaching for the unobtainable, we should focus on the importance in the present.” You took a breath and removed one hand from Katakuri’s scarred skin to pull the duvet over your bodies. In that instant, Katakuri felt himself missing your touch and warmth. However, your hand found its place again – stroking his sharp features and rubbing your thumbs in circles on his cheeks – which made the sharp-toothed man almost purr in delight and relief.

“Do you have anything important to you, Katakuri? Anything close to your heart?”

“My family.” His reply was quick and confident, showing no hesitation.

“Then focus on your family, do what you know is the best for them and focus in taking a part of your own joy without letting them make their own dreams into yours.”

Warmth spread through his body like rapid fire, but not from the duvet placed over his body, not from your comforting hands nor from your slim body pressing up against his – no, the comfort unfurling even in the darkest corners inside of him was purely due to your words.

Never in his lifetime had Katakuri been told that it was okay to not excel, okay to step back and okay to be flawed – to be human. Your words refreshed him in ways he never would have been able to imagine without you in the picture.

As he felt one of your hands move upwards to tousle and draw through his short hair in a slow motion, realisation dawned upon him and his ragged breath evened out.

“Thank you.”

If it hadn’t been for your heads being centimetres apart and your long limbs tangling, you wouldn’t have caught the small thankful murmur making its way between sharp canines and smooth inhales and exhales.

A smile tugged at your lips, but you chose to remain silent. You continued your ministrations and small affections until you his posture lost its tension and fell limp beside you. Though you didn’t stop, nor did you leave him. You had taken a certain choice – a choice that was made when you opened up your heart in front of a scared and scarred man.

From now and onwards you had decided to stick with the troubled man that was your husband to be, and even if it would start with the smallest things, you were determined to break down his shell in order to gain his affection. Great mountains caved to time and so would Katakuri.

Simple decisions such as wanting to wake up in your fiancé’s grip could eventually escalate and turn into a full-blown and fiery love.

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