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#and i had 14 inches of box
spockandawe · 1 year
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Who wants to make a peller box?
Guess what! I finally gathered my pages of scribbled notes, my camera of haphazard in-progress pictures, and finally compiled a set of instructions for making one of these bad boys!
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And not only that, but I've got two versions of this baby. I like mixing and matching my unit families because sometimes 1/32 inch sparks joy and sometimes 14 mm is just so convenient, but especially since all of my chipboard comes in english thicknesses, here's a version of the process for my fellow imperial units weirdos:
And here's one for the sensible folks of the world, raised on a base-ten system rather than dividing everything in half and then in half and then in half-- I won't subject you to inches, when there's a workaround, but I was tempted! Have your localized version of the story and have fun with it:
Mad credit of course goes to Hugo Peller, who developed these things in the first place, but also to Jack Fetterer, who preserved a set of notes from a 1990 class, which, as far as I can tell, are the most complete set of instructions available online. But I'm an engineer, I couldn't be satisfied there, I had bludgeon it into a system of equations, sorted by usage and material. And I also go into some of the hiccups I ran into trying to follow those class instructions, like being a green amateur at leatherwork, or not having the equipment to saw plywood boards in my apartment. These instructions still do make some unfair assumptions about the base knowledge level of anyone who wants to give this a try, like using bookcloth rather than plain cloth, but I may try to loop back and adjust that soon.
I can't claim any kind of expertise in this type of work, but I beat my head against an interesting problem, and it's time to share what I got out of it! And, secret goal, I want to help more people make more cool things, and maybe improve on my process in ways I can absorb and chew on in the future. Save my work, change it, I dare anyone who sees this to improve it!! I want it to be better. Credit would be cool, and of course the actual experts I leveraged for this deserve all the credit in the world, but that's not my priority. I want the world to have more exciting things in it, and I want more people to have exciting skills. Go forth and go nuts!!
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r0ttenhearts · 5 months
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goodbye, old friend
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scaramouche x childhood friend! reader
sypnosis: the memories of your childhood spent with scaramouche
warnings; angst, no comfort, mean scara, arguments, abandonment
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WINTER
“what are you doing, (y/n)? stop acting like such a child!” scaramouche’s cold, pink cheeks puffed out as he smacked your hands, the cold snow falling from your gloved hands. the bottom of your lip jut out as small tears started to well up in your eyes.
“stop crying! grow up (y/n)! you’re not a baby.” scaramouche’s harsh words set off your wailing. sucking in his teeth, scaramouche set his cold hands into the snow. a small ball was formed before he set it in your hands, your crying ceasing momentarily. “y-you’re so mean to me, scara.” you sniffled out.
“i just don’t want you to be childish.” he muttered, his hand resting on the top of your head. scaramouche was only a year older than you, 13. but he acted as if he knew it all. his clear influence on you was being shown as you began trading juice boxes for flavored water, stuffed animals being hidden away in your closet when you knew he’d be over for a visit.
a small smile graced your face before cold ice hit scaramouche’s face. a startled yelp left scaramouche’s lips, your giggles following suit before he chased you in the snow. small footsteps following each other, imprinted in the cold white powder.
SPRING
“this feels so weird, scara.” you whispered to him as you both sat on your bedroom floor. the purpled haired boy sat across from you, his cheeks a slight red as he leaned in slowly. “this was your idea, (y/n). or do you want to back out?” the mocking tone in his voice was evident, a smirk across his lips with a shake of your head. “no! i don’t want.. anyone else to have this first with you, scara.”
“oh? so, you want all of my firsts?”
“shut up! that’s not what i meant!”
with your flustered, babbling self you hadn’t noticed scaramouche slowly inching towards you until his lips met yours. it was a quick, gentle kiss. enough to send scaramouche reeling backwards immediately with a choked out “are you happy now?”
a quiet yes left your lips, a small smile on your face. you had taken something he would always remember. his first kiss. his first kiss was with a girl he claimed to not be fond of, but you knew how much you meant to him. he wouldn’t spend every afternoon in your room with you if you never meant much to him. you knew that as well as he did.
that quiet afternoon was spent with you both side by side, a happy revelation that you had gotten what you had always wished for. losing your first kiss to scara at 14.
SUMMER
“you don’t mean it, scara.”
“oh but i do, (y/n). i don’t want anything to do with you anymore.”
hot tears burned your eyes, it couldn’t be true. he wasn’t doing this to you, not again. the disinterested look across his features wasn’t something you were unfamiliar with. it seemed that all he had for you lately was distaste. the past year and a half had been a whirlwind of drama and heartbreak between you two. you had ended up claiming more of his firsts, just like he teased you about.
but it seemed that you had paid a price for every little moment you would forever remember. his cruelty seemed to grow month by month. scaramouche was no longer interested in spending afternoons with you, but with other girls he would deem as interesting for a month. in return, he’d ignore you.
that was until he came back after a nasty breakup. he seemed to care more for this girl than he had for the others, as he usually was in your arms within a month. retelling the stories of how much lacking those girls had been in comparison to you.
but this time was different. his scowl wasn’t only showing his arrogance, but his anger.
“you promised me, scara!” a shared promised on a hot summer night in your backyard. a promise to not go back to the ignoring and neglect, a promise to stay. for good.
“i was lying! are you really still that dumb, (y/n)? i never wanted or needed you. you were just a placeholder until i found other girls. but you knew that, didn’t you? you just didn’t want to believe it.”
you shook your head, more hot tears rolling down your cheeks. “please, don’t do this scara. what about us? what about our friendship? i don’t want to know a life without you.”
“i do. don’t call me anymore.”
you would never forget the tears that would escape your eyes. your heart was aching for the remaining hope for things to go back to what once was. but the rest was seething, angry that you believed him time and time again. angry for his false promises.
“if you go through with this, i’ll never forgive you.”
“so be it.”
AUTUMN
a familiar scarf was wrapped around scaramouche’s neck. a dark purple, almost black thick scarf was hiding his mouth. the same scarf you had gifted him years ago on his birthday. even with the presence of the scarf, it didn’t damped the feelings that welled up in your chest. the hurt, the anger.
“well, did you need something?” you spoke flatly, shopping bags in your grip. christmas was coming up and you had started your shopping a month early. what you hadn’t accounted for was running into scaramouche. his new blonde girlfriend in a candle store nearby, unaware of the tension between you both.
“i..” his mouth opened and closed, almost like a fish gasping for air. you huffed impatiently, the gnawing anxious feeling swallowing your chest. “if there’s nothing then i’ll be on my way.” you mumbled curtly, taking a step to the side of scaramouche. his pale hand shot out, grabbing your wrist, keeping you in place.
“i’m sorry, (y/n).” he whispered, loud enough only for you to hear. the great egoistical scaramouche was apologizing to you?
“i’m sorry for, everything.” he added in a hushed whisper.
“it’s a little too late for that, don’t you think?”
you two weren’t kids anymore. this wasn’t a small thing to smile widely and take his hand again, like you once did. it was a betrayal. one that cut you deeply like a knife that was never wedged out from your heart. that pain stayed with you, that resentment. the resentment for a boy you once loved in your younger years.
“i don’t expect you to forgive me, but i want you to know that i’m sorry.” there was a slight desperation in his voice, his eyes scanning yours for a hint of what he felt so deeply when he looked at you. but you wouldn’t meet his eyes, you hadn’t since you noticed him looking at you.
you shook your head, your wrist gently being let go from his grip. you left him standing there, wondering if things could have played out differently if he hadn’t left you that summer night. watching your back slowly disappear from view felt like a familiar memory. but this time he wouldn’t expect to see you again. you were older, after all. he still remembered the promise he had broken earlier in the year. a promise to apply to the same college and share a dorm together.
your hesitance at the time bothered him, but now that he was looking back, you were right to hesitate in agreeing to it. it was a promise made to him, after all. and he had never kept a good record of keeping his promises to you. but you always forgave him anyway.
now it was college application season, you both turned in different applications to colleges in complete opposite regions. scaramouche wanted to go to sumeru, and you fontaine. he still had the list of furniture you both had planned to buy for your shared dorm. it still laid jotted down in his notepad that he kept in his bag.
it felt bittersweet to flip past it whenever he had to scribble down something, but he couldn’t bring himself to tear it out. your messy handwriting on that piece of paper was the only thing he had left of what once was a close friendship.
WINTER
the freezing cold temperatures outdoors helped for a lighter mood that christmas morning. the warmth from your parents home was inviting as you opened gifts from your family and friends.
but after all the wrapping paper was torn off boxes and cardboard, there still lay one gift for you. it resided in your parents mailbox, an early morning drop off from scaramouche himself. a letter wishing you happy holidays and tickets to an aquarium you had planned to go with him, only for him to ditch you on the day of, were nestled safely inside the card.
a six year friendship coming to a close, for good this time.
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taglist: @samarill @whorerificstuff @sakiimeo @astrolomona @dearsumire @saeism @shoheartluv @0kauy @lelemnh @ayameei @aqualesha @msdevilis @linkookie197 @beriiov @xiaonscaraswife @foxlover1144 @gh0sts0up @darliingyu @magica-ren n @scara6 @Maxineslair
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cleolinda · 2 months
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I am so fucking pissed. We’re hearing forecasts that we might get FIVE FUCKING INCHES OF SNOW overnight from Monday to Tuesday. In ALABAMA, where we have no snow removal equipment. Like I think we got one bag of sand for the whole town. No snow tires, I don’t even know what those are. This isn’t cute “Haha it’s just barely below freezing! Snowball fight!!!” snow. This is 14° Fuck (-11° Come the Fuck On) snow. FIVE INCHES? We get flurries and the city descends into madness.
What if we lose POWER. Everything runs off USB cord stuck in the outlet charging nowadays. This is why everyone used to run out and buy Milk Bread Batteries. Listen. I have this memory of the power going out during this wild snowstorm when I was a kid--I want to say it was Winter Storm '93. Ask anyone who lived in Alabama at the time. Like we had Desert Storm '92 the military operation one year and Winter Storm '93 the next. It was that serious in our minds, and I'm not sure you can blame us:
The storm dumped several inches of snow each hour on Birmingham, which ended up with officially 13 inches of snow.
Due to the high winds some parts of Birmingham reported drifts 5 to 6 feet deep. One state trooper reported that the roads were in the worst shape he had ever seen. "People can't tell what's road and what's not."
Low temperatures during the storm were in the 5-to-10 degree range on that Sunday.
IN A TOWN WHERE WE DON'T KNOW WHAT A SNOW PLOW IS. I think we had one for the entire county. Like I'm only kind of joking here.
And our power went out.
The snow was so heavy that it pulled down power lines either by its own weight, or by the tree branches its weight broke off. Meanwhile, the power at my house already went off every time a squirrel sneezed. I don't how many days this lasted; it was probably like, 2-3 days, but in my head, I was 14 years old boxed up with my family with no heat and it lasted two weeks. Maybe three years. The four of us slept in sleeping bags layered with quilts, huddled on the floor around a wood burning fire. (In the haunted house, no less.) The carpet was really nice, at least. We had a--do people still call them boomboxes? A big portable cassette player--battery-powered--with AM/FM radio. We listened to whatever TV shows were broadcast from the ABC station at night. We did have hot water; I took a lot of hot baths. We cooked food over the outdoor grill (which we moved to the comfortably large area under the deck, to hold off the falling snow), sometimes using aluminum foil as a kind of thin impromptu frying pan, and kept perishables like milk and meat in a cooler. Oh, did we have a bag of ice for the cooler? No, we used snow. God knows there was enough of it. Of course, I'm sure the refrigerator was perfectly serviceable even without power, because it was TEN DEGREES FUCK ALL.
I remember going outside a good bit and playing, as much as a teenager plays, in the snow with my seven-year-old sister. I remember that all the neighborhood kids got big rubber trashcan lids and used them as toboggans, going up to the top of the hill on our street and pretty successfully sledding down. Maybe it was "lmao snowball fight!!" snow when I was 14. I'm 45 now, and the cold makes me hurt. It makes me hurt all over. Maybe Winter Storm '24 will be a fun core memory for my nephew. I am pissed. And also charging all my electronics.
(ETA: It’s ‘24 now, isn’t it. My brain hasn’t clicked the date over yet. What is time.)
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The Improvised Chronivac: FRAT-ifier
@dumbmusclehypnojockboy​ Happy Holidays! Hope you enjoy your story!
Sometimes moments from the past last long after they’ve passed. For Fredrick Cleston that certainly was the case. It’s been almost a decade since he’d been laughed out of that blasted college for his outrageous scientific genius. They could not even humor his vast intellect with a degree. No. Instead he was found unsuitable for any place of higher education whether it be to conduct his dangerous experiments OR to push the boundaries of physicality and ethics! But no longer would that sorry spot on the collegiate map be considered a place of intellect. Once his machine was completed no one will know this small town for anything other than the idiocy that it has always held. Once his machine was completed, reality itself would be at his disposal! Sure, there had been other geniuses who found ways to bend reality and bend minds, but none like this!
-
No one at Telegre University realized that today was their last day of higher education. The world-renowned university was prided on its academic achievement, claiming responsibility for countless graduates and their subsequent success. Few could argue that this temple of education produced geniuses as fast as application rates! If you weren’t joining the medical track to become a doctor, you were in engineering to pursue grand designs! Perhaps you were a philosopher with the next greatest life methodology. Or maybe a civic genius ready to bring their ideas to law! No corner of this school lacked genius…. Until the day there was a large explosion a few blocks away from campus.
The nearly invisible pulse that surrounded the square footage of the school went unnoticed by nearly everyone! That is until that strange scientist started walking about. Many on social media called out a creeper making his way through campus!
He started with the bio medical section of school. Many of these young minds were eager to cure the ailments of the day. However, as these students studied in class many looked out the window… as if drawn to this strange man holding an odd metal box with strange screens appearing on it.
“Excuse me sir. You’re entering one of our classrooms. Are you lost? Do we need to call security?” One of the students questioned, crossing his thin arms, as he looked condescendingly at the wild looking man of science.
“Young man I’m right where I need to be. Though perhaps you’re lost? You don’t look like you belong in this stogy classroom. Perhaps you belong on the beach!” Dr. Cleston fiddled with his device, adjusting knobs! Moving levers and inputting a simple phrase. “Himbo Surfer” Soon more phrases came up! “Oblivious” “Air headed” “cocky” “high libido” “extremely breedable” and many more filled the screen as Dr. Cleston laughed madly.
Meanwhile the young man who commented stood wide eyed. His normal modes 5-foot frame had begun to contort and grow. Each pulse from this box seemingly affecting his physiology! It started with his feet. The nice leather shoes he’d worn to class began to strain and break. His normally pale feet were no more as tanned skin surrounding sizeable size 14 feet burst forth from those shoes. Then his legs extended! Higher and higher, while thickening perfectly, shredding his boring beige pants revealing a tight hugging pair of board shorts that surrounded and ever-growing ass and bulge! His torso shredded with a single flex as his pudge stomach reversed into perfectly cut abs! His pectoral muscles now revealed to the world with a just the right amount of chest hair as well! Then his arms extended growing powerful with each inch leading to hands that could grab a surfboard with ease! His moans through this process now deepened as it gained a laidback tone and his face rearranged losing his classes and sallow skin. Now tightened into a beautiful smile and longer wavy hair.
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“Haha surfs up bros!” The new surfer said much to everyone’s shock! Though even that was short lived. Did they always have a surfer bro in their class? No that doesn’t seem right… was he always this overt showing off his body?
“My head bros… what was I doing here again?” the surfer asks.
Dr. Cleston smiled. “You were here to have people join your new frat I believe. For surfers and beach hunks.” The man’s words stroked a chord within the empty headed vessel he let out a dumb giggle and nodded.
“Fuck yeah bros. You gotta join my frat! We just chill and hit the waves everyday. Then we flex and show off to all the bros and babes watching for a good time!” He says luring more and more people forward. His voice naturally drew the med students in as one by one the doctor changed them in new ways! Some growing taller, shorter, stronger, tanner. Races and ethnicities were altered permanently as well as age when certain professors left their offices to see what was wrong. Before long the entire area was no longer a large building, but a run-down frat house filled with too many members! Each command entering the chronivac not changing just one! But like a wave it changed larger and larger groups till the enter med student population of the school were nothing but free loving surfers!
The mad doctor Cleston did not stop there. He moved on to the engineering quadrant of the school. There was currently a competition ongoing of who would make the sturdiest mechanical marvel. Some created miniature vehicles, others small clock towers, and even more created actual robots. Though none of that would before long. Like a piper guiding lesser beings to their true calling, Cleston’s device radiated a compulsion for the engineers to approach.  
“You all are so crafty and studious! Though perhaps we should have you allocate that ingenuity elsewhere! Perhaps work with less iron and more… gridiron!” Dr. Cleston typed furiously on his device turning to the smallest runtiest engineer! “You my friend will be the captain the one to lead this team and ensure you are the strongest dumbest unit this school has ever seen!” Phrases appeared like butterflies over this young man’s head. “Captain.” “Ruthless” “Powerful!” “Dominant!” “Tank!” “POWER!” and soon they rang true.
Before this mousy haired youth stumbled back his large legs stomped the ground beneath him. What once was a normal tennis shoe turned into a huge cleat with and even huge leg attached to it as this engineer grew into the largest football player anyone had seen. A jersey replace his normal shirt while a helmet replaced his hat. His nerdy moans grew deeper as he started shouting out for his men to line up. With each step he marched… grassy Astro turf emerged beneath him. Not only was he compelled to make his own team, he was compelled to bring a new field to this college!
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“That’s right captain. Spread you influence. In fact why don’t you start brining me the me for your team. Those lucky enough to be picked by you will be your brothers on the field. Any left over… well I guess we could use some  handsome cheerleaders to motivate you on and off the field!”
One by one this massive American football player grabbed a new stunned engineer and threw him at the feet of Cleston who grew him into another athlete before their eyes. Some join their captain in gathering men. Some simply served the doctor fetching him water and doing his bidding. By the time he was done he was in an entire quadrant of a school that looked like a football field! Young men in full uniform were running exercises and making dumb jokes, while scantily clad cheerleaders danced for them.
The final stop for the doctor was the humanities segment of the school. At this point he had an entourage of surfers and football players. They crowd around the doctor happily serving as guides and guards till the last bastion of this school stands before them.
“Come out all your philosophers and lawyers! I believe it’s time you begin anew in a different court!” This time Cleston did not even wait for the student to come out! He let his device run wild as pulses of electricity now crackled from the machine. Campus architecture began to warp and reshape. Buildings became gymnasiums! Leisurely quad portions became outdoor basketball courts! Even the nearby cafeteria became a variety of concession stands. And the young men that emerged from the area fled, transforming before his very eyes!
One red haired student ran outside, skin as pale as if he’d never seen the sun. But that changed as the professor aimed his device at him amplifying his changes. “Big black basketballer” “Proud” “Self assured” “Giant!” “Godly!” “Champions!” The look of confusion on this face began to shift. His mouth found itself shaping into a confident smirk, as his body grew higher and higher. He felt knowledge leaving his brain as his body inflated with size and power! His entire burst out of his clothes revealing his darkening skin and powerful arms and legs. Large feet to support such a frame with a sizeable package that would draw attention from anyone who could see it! He even drank his water bottle in a way that almost invited a challenge!
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He wasn’t the only one. Countless classmates and the professors teaching them were all changing with these command till a roaring game was going on inside the gymnasium and around the out door courts. Anyone not playing was on the bench cheering on their teammates to glory! Basketball would be pretty big at this university now. As would its players. All of them growing to be bigger and more intimidating than the next!
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At this point Cleston was satisfied and walked slowly to the center of the school, the Dean’s office. His travel companions of surfers, football players, and basketball athletes following him like mindless drones… or a small army.
The bookish Dean exited the doors to his office shaking. “Kleston!  This is absolute chaos you’ve brought to this school. Using such an unstable device could tear a fabric within reality itself if you continue this madness! Shut it off and maybe we can repair the damage before you unleash unspeakable harm to the world!”
“You beg for mercy as I’m about to achieve my ultimate goal! Never! That is why you are the final to change at this school! I’m going to make you the most absent minded sports driven fool of them all!” Kleston blasted his machine right at the Dean who screamed out in surprise as surges of all sorts of changes began to strike him. However this wasn’t just any change! Just like the others it spread… but with no one else around the bolts of changing electricity began to creep up Kleston’s weedy arms… his own device consuming itself and its user as these changes progressed! “No… no! This is not my design. Change him you damn machine! Not me!” He screamed louder and louder! Until a large explosion at the center of campus unleashed every imaginable change!
-
One month later. No one outside of Master Chronivac users remember the illustrious Telegre University. Though ask any sports loving party guy and he’ll tell you he’d love to go to Titan University. Home to the biggest bros, the dumbest academics, and the most intense sports programs. Professionals could never predict how a school with such dumb strategies won their games, let alone certain championships! Many attributed it to the titanic student body this university attracted. Regardless, it serves as a lesson to all people meddling in technology out of their control. Specifically the iconic Twins of Titan U. 
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They are some of the most handsomest men around social media these days… shame they’re too dumb to play any sports. Obviously this was the former Dean of the university and the made scientist Kleston… However, even the most creative Chronivac users could tell them apart. They’ve both been so substantially changed both physically and intellectually that they could not be distinguished.
So, remember not to lose yourself proving people wrong. You may end up just like them in the end.
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shitty-goose-quack · 1 year
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psa: you don't have to look a certain way to be enby
you don't have to wear oversized button downs and bagy jeans to "pass"
you don't have to wear intricate and colorful makeup so people know you're queer
you don't have to shave your head to look more androgynous
you don't have to bind everyday to prove that you're really trans, and not just faking
you don't have to use they/them or he/him or fae/faer pronouns to not be a girl
jesus christ i just want to go and shake 14 year old me and tell her she can wear dresses and miniskirts and bras if that makes her feel good
tell her that if wearing mascara threatens her carefully crafted gender identity, then its not a great gender identity
just because you came out as "genderfluid/enby/gender queer/agender/transman/demiboy/unlabelled", masculinity doesn't mean shit (neither does femininity for that matter) and if coming out makes you feel like you're in more of a box, coming out did not serve it's purpose
screw that teacher who asked "why are you wearing girl clothes?" because you came to school in something pink
screw the imposter syndrome you felt wearing a bra instead of a binder
screw the people that say you're misgendering yourself when you call yourself a girl
I can be just as trans in a miniskirt as i am in mens jeans
i can have a gender crisis with or without lipstick on
i can be a lesbian with french braids or a buzz cut
i can flip off gender with long, unkempt cuticles, or 2 inch acrylics
my gender expression is for me, and me alone. if someone with shaved legs, eyelash extensions, waist length hair, and a pushup bra asks you to use he/him pronouns for him, you had better damn well respect that
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lilacmingi · 3 months
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ELF IN TRAINING
My works are 14+ ONLY. If you are under 14 DO NOT interact with me or any of my works
Pairing: Elf!Mingi x elf!fem reader
Word count: 3,430
Note: THIS IS ONE OF MY FAVES! Yunho, Yeosang, Mingi, and Wooyoung’s are my absolute favorites. They’re the ones I really got immersed in while writing them and I just love the plots. I’m very proud of them 🥹
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The North Pole was covered in snow, the usual weather for Santa's Headquarters. Large, fluffy snowflakes came down in a flurry, adding to the inches of white snow that blanketed the ground.
You were hard at work in the workshop, painting and assembling toys. Christmas was only a month away and it was crunch-time at Santa's workshop. Every elf was hard at work preparing for the upcoming holiday. The sound of hammers tapping and the low hum of the assembly line machines were the only thing that could be heard in the building as every elf stayed laser focused on their job.
Mingi, a new elf in training, walked across the workshop with a box of completed toys in his hands. He was heading to the room next door where the toys were being collected. As he proceeded towards his destination, his head collidided with the top of the doorframe, a thud sound following after. You instinctively winced at the sight. Mingi was always bumping his head on the doorway. Unlike other elves, he was rather tall and towered over everyone. The average height of elves was around five feet, Mingi was six feet tall.
You hated seeing him always hurting himself on the doorframe and wondered why no one had done anything about it. At this rate he would give himself a concussion if nothing was done about the low doorframe.
A chorus of chuckles from nearby elves could be heard after Mingi's little incident. You abruptly abandoned your work station and hurried after Mingi, calling for him. He turned around, looking down at you with bright eyes and an expectant expression.
"Are you okay?" You asked.
A soft smile spread across his face.
"I'm fine. Thanks, Y/n."
"You don't need an ice pack or something?"
He shook his head. "I'm kinda used to it."
You gave him a sympathetic look.
"You should get back to work. Christmas is coming soon." He told you.
“What about you?”
“I’ll be just fine.”
As much as you didn't want to, you turned around and hesitantly made your way back to your station, picking up where you left off.
It was difficult to focus. All you could think about was Mingi and the way everyone always laughed at him. It made you angry. There was no reason for it. He's an elf just like the rest of you.
Lunch was called and you were able to step away from your work and take a break. You congregated in the cafeteria with the other elves where you got a slice of extra sweet cake and a mug of hot chocolate. As you made your way to your seat, you overheard a few comments from some of your fellow workers.
"Did you see Mingi?" Chuckled one elf. "He bumped his head on the doorframe again. That klutz."
"He's such a giant, no wonder he's always hitting his head."
"He's a weirdo."
"He's a misfit."
"He doesn't belong here."
"He's not an elf, he's a giant."
The comments angered you immensely. Everything in you screamed to speak up and say something, but you fought it, pushing that urge down deep. You didn't want to start something and cause a scene. However, your temper got the best of you and pushed aside all reason. Your grip tightened on your mug of hot chocolate as you harshly spun around to face the chattering elves.
"That's not very jolly of you to be saying such hateful things about a fellow elf." You punctuated the last word. "Surely, you know Santa is fully aware of what you're saying now."
None of them said a word.
"That's what I thought." You huffed, turning away.
Santa knows everything and they still had the nerve to say such rude things about Mingi. It was shameful, really.
You then spotted Mingi sitting alone at the end of a table, rubbing his forehead. You immediately set your sights on him, making your way over without hesitation.
"Hi." You greeted, taking a seat across from him.
"Hi."
"How's your head?"
"It's okay." He reached up to lightly rub it again. “Hurts a little."
"I'm sure it does. Are you sure you don't want an ice pack?"
"I'm sure. Thank you, though. I appreciate you always checking up on me."
You smiled. "I just want to make sure you're alright."
"Thank you for that. It's nice to know someone cares."
"So, it's been a few weeks since you joined the team. How are things?"
"Good." He nodded with a smile. "Work is easier and more enjoyable than I though. Turns out I'm pretty good at assembling toys. I'm the fastest elf in my group." He beamed proudly.
"That's great to hear. It seems you're fitting in just fine."
"Well, almost."
"Almost?"
"In case you haven't noticed, I'm a whole foot taller than everyone here." He stated.
"I have noticed, but it doesn't bother me."
"It seems to bother everyone else. They all stare at me and whisper things."
"You just need to ignore them. They're not worth your time. Santa should give them more work since they seem to have time to make hateful comments about you for no reason." You huffed, feeling your temper rising again.
"What if I'm not a real elf?" Mingi asked unexpectedly, his tone weaker than before.
"What? That's nonsense. Of course you're a real elf."
"But what if I'm not? I clearly don't fit in."
You abruptly reached over and grabbed hold of his ear, giving it a good tug.
"Ow!" He yelped.
"Is that proof enough?" You inquired, quirking a brow.
"I guess so." He muttered, rubbing his ear with a pout.
"Mingi, you need to stop doubting yourself. You're an elf just like the rest of us."
"But I'm different."
"Unique." You corrected. "I think your height is your charming point."
"My charming point?" He asked, looking at you with round, glittering eyes.
"Yes. It's what makes you, you."
His face seemed to soften a bit after you told him that. He appreciated your words greatly, more than you would know. You and Santa seemed to be the only ones who treated him as an equal and not as some freak.
You stayed and kept Mingi company throughout lunch, sharing funny stories about past mishaps at the workshop. His heart fluttered in his chest whenever you laughed at your own story. The giggles spilling from your lips made Mingi feel light as air, and the way your eyes crinkled up when you smiled made him grin himself. Your happiness was contagious.
He was a bit of a slow eater and yet you stayed with him the whole time, which only made his growing attraction towards you bloom even more.
That night, you laid in bed staring at the ceiling. You really needed to get some rest, as you knew you'd need the energy for work the next day. Christmas was quickly approaching and everyone needed to be at peak performance, but you couldn't seem to stop thinking about Mingi. Yes, he could just duck to get through the doorway, but that's an inconvenience, plus he seems to forget how short the doorways are.
Unable to sleep, you threw the covers off and changed into your uniform, hurrying out of your room. With a mission on your mind, you trekked through the snow and to the workshop, making your way up the large staircase that led to Santa's office. You gave a soft knock on the oak wood doors and waited for an answer.
"Come in." A voice bellowed from the other side.
You slowly twisted the doorknob and stepped into the room.
"Y/n, what on earth are you doing here? It's nearly 1 AM.”
"I could ask you same thing." You chuckled.
"Oh, you know, checking it once, checking it twice." He responded with a smile as he glanced down at the long list that stretched across his desk and spilled onto floor. "But seriously, what are you doing awake at this hour?”
"I couldn't sleep, sir." You answered honestly.
"Why is that?" He inquired, concern lacing his warm voice.
"It's Mingi. He's always bumping his head on the doorframe in the workshop that leads to the stock room." You informed him.
"Oh no." He frowned.
"It pains me to keep seeing him hit his head, so I was wondering if I could make some adjustments to the doorframe."
"I'm sure I could make time to do it. You don't have to take that on all by yourself."
"Sir, with all due respect, I want to do it on my own. Plus, you're already very busy."
"Are you sure?" Santa asked.
"Yes. I can handle this."
"Very well."
"Thank you, sir."
"Of course. This is very nice of you, Y/n."
You gave him a soft smile before exiting his office, bounding down the stairs, and hurrying over to your work station, grabbing an armful of tools. There was no time to waste.
Mingi got out of his bed that was thankfully the right size for him. Santa was kind enough to make some accommodations for him like getting a larger bed and furniture so he could. The elf stretched his stiff muscles before shuffling over to his closet to grab his uniform.
He made his short commute across the small North Pole village, trudging through the large amount of snow that was constantly covering the ground. He stepped into the workshop, ready to start his day. To his surprise, the shop was completely empty. Mingi simply brushed it off, going to his work station where he found a box of toys that he forgot to put into the stock room the day before. He lifted the box and carried it across the shop. As he passed the entryway to the stock room, he instinctively flinched, his head being thrust backwards by a phantom force.
The pain he had anticipated never arrived, causing him to stop for a moment and turn around to look at the doorway he just walked through. To his surprise, it appeared to be reconstructed and there was now a circular head shape at the top of the doorway.
Mingi was quick to set the box of toys down, hurrying back into the workshop where elves were starting to come in to begin their work day. His eyes searched desperately, wanting to find out who had done this. His first thought was Santa. He was about to head up to the big man's office when he spotted you asleep at your work station, tools strewn across the desk. As he moved closer, he noticed sawdust all over your work space, your clothes, and even stuck in your hair.
A fond smile painted Mingi's features as he gazed down at you, a warm and fuzzy feeling blossoming in his chest.
You did that for him?
You began to stir, which caused Mingi to scurry off, not wanting you to see him. Once he got to his work station, he watched you lift your head, your eyes going wide at the mess in front of you. He tried to hold back a chuckle as you scrambled to clean the sawdust off the tabletop, clearing your workspace of any tools and powdery wood particles.
He found it amusing how you went about your business after you tidied up, pretending that you weren't just snoozing at your work table amongst tools and sawdust.
His gaze drifted to the doorway that seemed to be attracting attention from some of the elves. Mingi could feel his cheeks warm as he looked at the newly-shaped doorway that was exactly the same size as him.
He would make sure to thank you later.
You yawned as you tinkered away on a toy. Running on little to no sleep had you working a little slower than usual, but knowing Mingi would no longer hurt himself put you at ease and, in a way, kept you going.
You worked until you felt someone's presence near you. Glancing up, you saw Mingi who stood by your station.
"Oh. Hi Mingi." You greeted with a smile.
"Do you have a minute?" He asked.
"Sure. Is something wrong?"
"I just wanna talk to you for a moment. Is that okay?"
"Of course."
Mingi led you outside to a nearby bench where the two of you could talk alone.
"I saw what you did for me." He said.
"Hm?" You furrowed your brows. "What do you mean?"
"The doorway. I know it was you."
"Me? No. I didn't do that."
"Y/n." Chuckled Mingi. "I saw you asleep at your workstation with sawdust all over you and tools everywhere."
You started to make up another excuse, but snapped your mouth shut after processing what Mingi said. You meant to clean up your workstation, but you were so tired you accidentally fell asleep.
"You don't have to pretend it wasn't you." He spoke softly.
"I wanted to stay anonymous."
"I would have figured out it was you, anyway. No one else would do that for me except you and Santa."
"Did you like it?" You asked.
He nodded with a smile. "It was really nice to be able to walk through a doorway normally."
"I'm glad. I hated seeing you hit your head all the time and it seemed like no one was going to do anything about it."
"I hated hitting my head too, and I always seem to forget to crouch down."
"Crouching down seems like an inconvenience."
"It is. I don't feel like I'm getting work done fast enough."
You nodded in understanding.
As the two of you sat, snow began to fall from the overcast sky above. You looked up, watching as the flakes got bigger.
"I still can't believe you worked all night to alter one doorframe for me." Mingi spoke up suddenly.
"You deserve it, Mingi." You told him.
"You have such a kind soul."
You couldn't stop the warmth that ticked your cheeks at his words. “I would change all the other doorframes for you in a heartbeat."
The elf beside you seemed to get flustered as he avoided eye contact with you for a moment. When he looked back at you, a heartwarming grin spread across his face.
"You're getting covered in snow." Mingi giggled.
"You are too."
"Why don't we go somewhere else? How about that gazebo over there?" He pointed to a nearby wooden pavilion with lights wrapped around the roof and railing.
"Good idea."
The two of you hurried through the flurries and under the gazebo, but as you stepped underneath the shelter, you heard a loud thud. Turning around, you saw Mingi wincing with his hand pressed to his forehead.
"Oh no." You frowned, watching as he ducked to get underneath the gazebo.
Thankfully, the roof was a hollow cone shape, so he was able to stand up properly when he got inside.
"I forgot." He muttered.
"Come here." You held your palms up towards Mingi's face, gesturing for him to move closer.
He bent down a little, allowing you to get on your tiptoes and grab his cheeks, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead.
His eyes widened, as his cheeks tinted pink, even the tips of his pointed ears held a blush-colored hue.
"Ah." You turned your head away. "Sorry. I don't know why—"
"It's okay." Mingi cut you off. "I... liked it."
"You did?"
He nodded, shyly.
You couldn't deny the fact that Mingi was a good-looking guy. In fact, he's the only elf that ever caught your eye, and it wasn't because of his height. He was stunning. You loved his eyes. They could be sharp at times, almost intimidating, but also innocent, big, and bright. You loved his lips too. They were full, pink, and when he concentrated really hard, very pouty. You'd be lying if you said you didn't think about how it would feel to kiss them.
Did he feel the same as you?
"So..." You trailed off, unsure of what to say next.
"I like you." Mingi blurted.
Your brows raised, not expecting him to come out with it so quickly.
"You're the only elf that's shown me kindness. Ever since I first showed up here, you made sure I was getting the hang of things and constantly asked if I needed help. Despite me being different, you still spoke to me and treated me like everyone else."
"That's because you are like everyone else. To me, you're not different. You're you."
Mingi's glossy eyes twinkled a bit when you said that. His large hands found yours, clasping onto them; you could feel them shaking—or maybe it was your own. You glanced down, seeing the way his hands swallowed yours whole. It made your heart leap in your chest.
"Can I kiss you?" Mingi asked tentatively.
"I thought you'd never ask." You chuckled.
Mingi bent down to get closer to your height as you stood straighter to get closer to his. Your hands rested on the sides of his face as the two of you leaned in, closing the space between you.
Mingi's lips felt exactly the way you thought they would, only 10 times better. They were pliant, soft, and oh-so gentle. He was kissing you so delicately, it made your heart swell. You could tell he was a little nervous about what he was doing, but so were you.
One of Mingi's large hands moved to cup the back of your neck, holding you in place as he  began to deepen the kiss.
You could feel your whole body heat up like fresh hot cocoa. The warmth sent a rush through you from head to toe as your hands moved to clutch onto the collar of Mingi's uniform, pulling him even closer. You couldn't get enough, you were desperate for more.
Mingi seemed to get the hint as he straightened his posture, not once disconnecting the kiss. You stood up on your tiptoes to keep the contact as his free hand slid around your waist, his arm wrapping around your torso, holding you flush against him. He paused for a moment, relocating the hand that cupped the back of your neck to your waist. He held onto you tightly as he stood up fully. You gasped against his lips as the tips of your shoes lost contact with the wooden flooring of the gazebo.
He only pulled away long enough to mutter,
"I got you."
You trusted him, closing your eyes once again as you allowed his full lips to fully encase yours, sending another rush of heat throughout your body.
Unfortunately, breathing was something you needed to do to survive, so you had to pull away, ultimately ending the blissful moment. Mingi slowly lowered you to where your feet touched the ground again. The two of you huffed, your breaths coming out in puffs thanks to the wintry weather.
"As much as I'd like to stay out here and kiss you, we've got work to do." You reminded him.
"I know." His shoulders drooped a bit.
"We can always hang out later."
He smiled after hearing that.
The two of you stepped back out into the open and headed back towards the workshop hand-in-hand.
"I have a question." Mingi spoke up.
"Yes?"
"What now?"
"What now?" You parroted.
"Yeah. What are we?"
You didn't wanna get ahead of yourself, so you turned the question on him. "What do you want us to be?"
"Honestly... I'd love to be able to call you my girlfriend."
You smiled at his answer. "Good. Because I'd like to call you my boyfriend."
"Really?"
The fact that he was still surprised after the two of you had just kissed was adorable.
"You won't be ashamed to be seen with me?"
"When have I ever been ashamed to be seen with you?" You questioned.
"Touché." He chuckled.
You came to a stop at the large workshop doors, turning to Mingi.
"I'll see you after work." You told him, pressing a soft kiss to the back of his hand.
He grinned bashfully in response as he opened the doors. You both kept your hands clasped together, parting ways to go to your respective stations. As you separated, you gave Mingi a small smile and a wave.
Your entrance attracted quite a bit of attention, but you didn't care. The only thing you cared about was getting toys finished so you could spend more time with Mingi... and kiss him some more, of course.
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Masterlist ᝰ — enjoyed this imagine? reblogs & comments are very much appreciated!
DO NOT steal, plagiarize, copy, repost, alter, or translate my works in any way
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🏷 @h3arteyes4mingi
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seat-safety-switch · 8 months
Text
My neighbour down the block has a little black dog named Pickles. We don't know what breed Pickles is, and it's a little weird that your mind immediately went to questions of racism. What Pickles is, is sizeist. Pickles will bark at anything smaller than himself. Toddlers. Cats. Other dogs. The opening box office of a reactionary revenge thriller. You name it.
For years, I've been listening to this small dog threaten to open a can of whoop ass on anything that is even a few microns tinier. It would be hypocritical of me to consider "excessive noise" to be a sign of bad neighbourdom, considering I'd been driving cars with holes in the muffler big enough to park another car inside. Unfortunately, things had come to a head recently, when I saw Pickles bark at and traumatize a pre-schooler. It was time to teach that dog a lesson.
One of my friends, who will not be named in writing, owns an import/export business. She specializes in importing cars, specifically, from Japan. One of the things Japan specializes in is extremely tiny cars. I figured that if I drove by Pickles slowly enough, he would decide to bully my diminutive motor vehicle. With Japanese reliability, I knew in my heart that I could simply circle the block for a few hours until he learned the folly of overbarking and decided to just go for a nap instead. Call it exposure therapy. Call it an excuse to play with a Suzuki Cappuccino for an afternoon. You're probably right, either way.
After a few hours of drifting corners with my tiny turbocharged shitbox (and only occasionally driving over lawns,) Pickles did indeed cease his sensory assault and go to nap on his shitty dog pillow. The neighbourhood fell silent. Revenge had been served, for a child too young to even worship said revenge. And I got to spend an afternoon blowing 14-inch Princess Auto trailer tires into nothingness. I'd say we both won.
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mack-anthology-mp3 · 4 months
Text
dashboard simulator
mutual 1 : *picture of neil young with like seven pixels in it* oughh i can't even say she should have been at the club cos so much of her personality was not wanting to be at the club. she should have been at the farm
mutual 2 : *heartbreaking good omens meta* lol love these guys *ms paint gore meme* my baby angel <3 *gif set of The Kiss* they're so cute
mutual 3 : hey does anyone listen to throbbing grobbing nine inch ninch skinny pinny.
mutual 4 : *picture of gerard way's legs taken from very far away* WIFE she's co cute i need her
mutual 5 : *ask box flirting with mutual 4*
mutual 6 : lol here's some art i did in class today *stunningly realistic portrait drawn on the corner of a math test* *17 notes*
mutual 7 : *picture of bloody ribcage* she's like an angel. to me
mutual 2 : *twenty reblogs of good omens fanart in like four minutes*
mutual 8 : AHHHHH i can't beLEIVE i have to go talk to my professor AGAIN i just want to do my thesis on how this one french canadian folksong is actually highly representative of early 20th century morality struggles 😭😭😭 but NOOO apparently i need EVIDNECE TO BACK THAT UP
mutual 9 : haha guys is it normal to have like. random pain in all your joints. everyone has that right haha. *mutual 5 & like three other people shouting at them to see a doctor in the reblogs*
mutual 6 : oh yeah i wrote this poem ^-^ *most heartbreaking beautiful thing you've ever read.* *9 notes*
mutual 10 : rpf is moral & everyone should do it. anyways *picture of bob dylan* estrogen would have saved her
mutual 11 : david tennant tboy swag *12k notes*
mutual 4 : GERARDDDDDDDD
mutual 12 : * bunch of reblog of depeche mode pictures* oh yeah i remember seeing that concert in '87. love dave gahan <33
mutual 13 : *screenshot of david tennant* i thikn i hauve. covid
mutual 14 : *highly specific post* oh yeah reminds me of when i was an extra in an indie horror film my friend was making that was fun
mutual 4 : i miss my wifr gerard
mutual 7 : *saw bathroom scene gifset* *carrie covered in blood gifset* i nEED THISSSSS. want to be SOaKed in bLOOD. someone stab me i mean kiss me
mutual 1 : do you think csny ever had synced periods
mutual 4 : where are you gerard :(
mutual 15 : hey has anyone ever heard this song?? it's so good one of my favourites atm *link to a live bootleg of an unrelased song by a goth band no one else has heard of*
mutual 4 : gerar.d way
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pietrotheavenger · 2 months
Text
learn to love
chapter 14 - how to breathe
summary: steve and y/n don’t get along. now, they have to.
pairings: au!steve rogers x fem!reader
warnings: alcohol
a/n: two years later LMFAO dedicated to anon. proofread once and did not edit. there will be another chapter!
series masterlist
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steve did not text y/n when he got home. she stayed up an hour, waiting for her phone to light up with his text, but it never did. she didn’t know when she fell asleep that night, but when it came it was restless and absent of any dreams.
the following day was a rinse and repeat of her daily life; wake up, get ready for work, take the subway, and pretend to be busy for eight hours. when she got home and kicked her shoes off, all she wanted was a glass of wine. she paused at the fridge and she checked her phone for what felt like the millionth time that day. no new texts. she sighed, poured herself a glass, and sat down at the dining table. she looked around the empty apartment, her thoughts naturally drifting to steve as they usually did.
what was he doing? was he thinking about her? why hadn’t he texted her?
she pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed again. then, she stood up with a start. since when did she sit around feeling sorry for herself? since when? she felt a bit of anger bubble up inside of her. all of this melancholy over a man? god, if she was one of her friends, she would’ve told herself to get a grip. well, she thought, nothing a good shower can’t fix. she pushed her thoughts of steve and his pink lips to the side, and took her glass of wine with her to the bathroom.
an hour later, while y/n was moisturizing her freshly shaved legs, her phone chirped. she looked over, absentmindedly singing along to the music she had put on for her shower. a text. she looked closer. from natasha. she finished applying the cream, then picked her phone up.
nat: will be home from work late tonight. don’t watch love island without me!
she smiled briefly, and shot back a reply.
y/n: wouldn’t dream of it! i don’t feel like cooking so i’ll order a pizza
she set her phone back on the counter, her gaze falling on natasha’s organizer filled with hair accessories. she looked up at the mirror, at her wet hair. she picked up her phone and sent another text to natasha.
y/n: can i borrow your hair pins?
a moment later:
nat: go for it
she quickly set to work blow drying her hair. natasha’s hair was always perfectly curled, and y/n had watched her on multiple occasions use pins to keep the curls in their shape and she had always wanted to try it herself, and see if her hair could be just as bouncy, or if the red head was just using sorcery. before she began curling her hair, she ordered the pizza so that it would arrive around the same time she was done. she also needed to refill her glass.
30 minutes later, she heard a knock at the door. “just a second!” she called out, as she carefully rolled up the last curl and clipped it into place. she paused to admire her handiwork. there was a couple stray pieces of hair sticking out, but overall not bad for her first time trying. she ran out of the bathroom and stopped in the hallway to rummage through her purse for cash. “one second, sorry!” she called out again, hoping the delivery person wouldn’t be annoyed with her. she barely missed stumbling over her shoes before she finally reached the door and opened it.
standing in front of her was six feet and two inches of man. of a man that was quite familiar to her. steve, to be specific. in his hand, in place of the box of pizza that she was expecting, was a bouquet of daffodils wrapped together with light blue cellophane and a bow.
“y/n,” he exhaled, seeming as if he had forgotten what he was going to say.
“steve,” she said, surprise equally evident in her voice and her face.
“i want you,” he rushed out so fast that it seemed that it was all one word. “i want you,” he repeated, slower. the second his eyes had fallen on her, all of the things he had planned to say to her flew out of his head. in their place, all that remained was one thing. one person, to be specific. her.
“steve,” she whispered.
he took a step closer. “i want you,” he said again, his voice low. she wordlessly stepped aside and allowed him to enter the apartment. she closed the door and turned around to face him and pressed her hands together to keep them from shaking. she didn’t meet his eyes, instead looking down at the shoes she had almost tripped over just a minute earlier. he sighed her name and reached for her hand, placing it on his chest, over his heart. she finally looked up at him, eyes searching his expression. “these past months without you,” he began, “have been the most agonizing of my life. i never realized that i need you the way i need air. when i saw you last night, it was like i remembered how to breathe again.
“i can’t lose you. i don’t care about all your stupid worries, i don’t care what my family would think about all of this. all i care is that i have you. i need you, i need to be able to breathe,” he said. “i can’t spend another moment of my life without you, y/n. i’ll do whatever i can to make this work, i’ll do whatever i can to make you happy, i promise. i just need you.”
her lips parted but she did not reply. they stared at each other for a full minute. he waited for an answer from her, anything. even a, “no steve.” but she said nothing. his heart was beating fast and he knew she could feel it. his hand fell from hers, and he broke eye contact.
her heart dropped, and she instantly knew that she shared the same madness as him. “steve,” she murmured, her hand trailing up to his face. her fingers carefully traced over his jawline, his stubble tickling her fingers. his blue eyes lifted to meet hers again. there was a small brown mole on his cheek. she had never noticed it. she wrapped both of her arms around his neck and pulled him in for an embrace. he wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her tight. the flowers became slightly crushed in the process, but he didn’t noticed. he buried his face in her neck, savoring her sweet, clean scent. one of the metal pins in her hair poked the side of his head, and she gasped, “oh my god,” and pulled back, her hand flying up to touch her hair.
“what?” he snapped, feeling a flash of agitation at the interruption of their hug. though she hadn’t escaped from his arms quite yet.
“my hair,” she gawked, as if it should have been obvious to him. he let himself take a good look at her. she was dressed in pajama pants and a college t-shirt, and her hair was pinned up like a woman out of a 1950’s fashion magazine. he smiled to himself. she looked ethereal. the annoyed look on her face quickly brought him back down to reality.
he fought the urge to roll his eyes and said instead, “it doesn’t matter.” how could it matter, when she was here with him? he swore his heart skipped a beat. she hadn’t said much, but she didn’t need to. this had to happen. he needed her and he would do whatever he possibly could for her to be his.
“it matters to me! i look ridiculous!” she cried, turning her head to look in the mirror on the wall next to the front door. she reached up and pulled a pin out, the curl falling down in a perfect spiral, mesmerizing steve.
he touched the piece of hair, making her hand stop mid air as she went to unfasten another curl. he wrapped the strand around his finger and released it, watching it bounce. “you’re so beautiful,” he whispered, repeating the motion, “every single part of you. i want it all.” his hand moved up to cup her face and tilt it up towards his. he closed the distance between them until they were barely separated by an inch. his eyes fell to her lips. “please, be mine,” he exhaled, his eyes fluttering closed.
she leaned in, her lips meeting his in a kiss.
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infinity tags:
@ssweet-empowerment ; @stardustandbucky ; @abuckyrogersworld ; @freightcarcap ; @c-a-v-a-l-r-y ; @coffeebooksandfandom ; @somethingmoreclever ; @illegalportkey ; @fuckthatfeeling ; @buckybarneshairpullingkink ; @tuliptx ; @wwhitewwolff ; @thisismysecrethappyplace ; @appreciating-chase-brody ; @maladaptive-ninja-returns ; @sophiealiice ; @galacticstxrdust ; @fitzsimmons-is-forever ; @dumblani ; @i-padfootblack-things ; @pinknerdpanda ; @marvelssluts ; @brknwaves ;
learn to love tags:
@youunravelme ; @clockworkherondale ; @clean-and-claire ; @denzmallows ; @ibxxmc-blog ; @itsallyscorner ; @brujademente ; @complete-trash-101 ; @radical-gecko ; @myoneandongly ; @chelricki96 ; @vicmc624 ; @bitchy-bi-trash ;
if you would like to be tagged please send an ASK.
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bitchlessdino · 1 year
Note
I know it's not his birthday anymore but it's still pretty close and i don't really need it to be his birthday for me to dump this idea on you but excitedly running up to chan when he comes home on his birthday and telling him to close his eyes and hold out his hands bc you're about to hand him his present. And instead of a present you just walk into his arms and then he goes "i thought you had an actual present" and then you go "why don't you unwrap me then" and then he just starts slowly unbuttoning your shirt (which he slowly realizes it to be his) and then underneath is this lace lingerie that you just KNOW he's been eying the other day you were both out shopping and then he goes absolutely feral
And now i just want to take this time to say how much i absolutely adore your work. I actually request quite a lot from you but im shy so i had in anon haha i just have so many ideas and you execute them so well, im sorry if I've been dumping a lot of ideas on you 🥺
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Pairing: bf!chan x afab!reader
Genre: smut, fluff
Word count: 1.4k+
tags: reader with boobs, face sitting, lingerie, dumbification
author note: Happy chan day and happy valentines day! since i finished this basically on 2/14 i made it a joint celebration wanted to show something a little different from my recent chan bday fic. Hope you don't mind me fixing a little details. and thank you for enjoying my work, seeing so many of you guys request stuff is so exciting and i love to see what can come up with.
You sped up getting ready when you heard Chan would be home soon. He was working abroad on his birthday and wouldn’t be back until two days after and by then you’d be closer to Valentine's day. Were you disappointed about it? Yes. Were you going to let it get it down? No. That just meant you had to get creative this joint celebration.
“I’m here! I’m here! Where is my gif–I mean love? Where is the love of my life?”
He haphazardly drops his things by the door to rush into the living room, a big smile on his face, and sees that you’re nowhere in sight.
“Close your eyes! And put your hands out!” You shout from another room.
You dust yourself off and ensure your shirt covers every inch of skin on your body, besides your legs that was. You peek out of your bedroom after hearing he’s done as you asked, and you run into his arms excitedly, grinning from cheek to cheek. You push the wind out of his lungs, almost crushing his ribcage (as he jokes), and he opens his eyes to see you embracing him.
“Happy birthday and Happy Valentine’s day,” You press a kiss to his cheeks and he gladly accepts.
“Thank you, baby, um–so…?” He scans his surroundings; no gift box, no bag, nothing tied in a pretty ribbon, and a puzzled look appears on his face. “Where…?” 
“Chan, I’m your gift,” you state adamantly.
His eyes shot up in realization, before hugging you tighter. He places a kiss on top of your forehead, stroking your back side endearingly, “Oh. I love it. I love you…It’s just—”
“Just what?” You egg on.
He nervously bites his lip, smoothing a hand over your hair. “I thought there’d be an actual gift—not that I don’t love and appreciate you.”
You roll your eyes in response, “Well, why don’t you unwrap me then?”
He raises a brow, not thinking much of your lack of anger initially, and starts to peel away the clothes on your body. Button by button, he begins to reveal what’s underneath your blouse, and his gaze shifts tone. Not even halfway, he notices the fabric. The texture, the thickness, the scent; it was all so familiar, “Wait, is this mine?”
You hum a confirmation and watches as he comes to gradual realization. He peaks at the sapphire blue lacy piece you wore, immediately recognizing it from the shopping day he had with you before his big work trip. It was the exact hue of blue he loved and he imagined how exquisite is look again your skin, cradling your breasts, and digs into your hips. It was mouth watering just thinking about. 
He insisted on getting it for you, noticing you had your eye on it too, but you couldn’t let him. Price tag not far from sight, you expressed how expensive it would be and could not allow him to pay so much money for so little material like that. Although it was pretty, you admitted, you much rather using the money for something more useful. 
Chan was initially disappointed but did push the topic, but now seeing the image in person, he can’t help but be awestruck. It was was made for your body. The collar of the shirt slips past your shoulders and falls to the ground, giving him a clear view. It took him too long to notice your lack of pants and he simply let out a low groan, palming the bulge in his pants, “Shit…You’re breathtaking…”
“Is it how you imagined?” You whisper, fingering at his shirt.
His hands settle on your bare hips, grazing his digits over your skin and sending shivers up your spine. “This is way better than I imagined. You–I’m so–I could’ve bought this.”
“But then you would’ve ruined the surprise.”
“Couldn’t have that, could we?” he chuckles.
His finger traces over your jaw, picking you up by your chin and pressing a tender kiss to your lips. “You’re incredible, you know that?”
“You’re just saying that because you wanna get in my pants,” you lightheartedly nudge.
“Maybe, or,” He lifts you up from the back of your knees, carrying you bridal style, but not without a yelp from your end, “I’m just that madly in love with you.”
“You didn’t like my gift thinking it was just me.” you point out playfully.
He shakes his head, “not true but now I can’t imagine an even better gift and let me prove it to you.”
He answers it no better by throwing your lace-adorn body against the fresh sheet, hands and lips worshiping every limb with utter passion and grit. You moan sweet pleasantries, undressing him down to his birthday suit, and feel the form of his cock fill the occupancy of your hands. A throaty moan makes past your lips and you lean into his touch. “God, I missed you.”
“Are you talking to me or my penis?”
“You are one and the same, baby.”
He can’t help but chuckle, reuniting with your lips. “Good because I’m all yours, forever and always.”
“You’re so sappy,” you nudge.
“Okay then, sit on my face.”
Your legs twitch, your heart thudding against your chest, and you nod in a trance-like state before watching him shift on the bed and lay flat on his back. He anticipates your presence, learning something new about his presence as you hover your cunt over his mouth, realizing he had the best view in the house. “Can’t be more grateful these are crotchless.”
“S-shush,” you retort, hands palm down at your vulnerables.
“You’re so cute, and I can already tell you’re so wet for me.” He tugs you by your thighs and latches to your core, collecting your folds.
His mouth engorges on your heat, tongue licking stripes at its center as your teeth grazes your clit. Your hands dig at the bed sheets, earning Chan a groan as you run your fingers through his hair. His pretty eyes pierce back at you, dark and determined, and you feel that tongue thrust into you, flicking its length to coat the pick muscle in your viscous liquid enticingly.
“Shit, shit, shit…Your mouth feels so good on my pussy…”
You twitch on top of him, only encouraging him to grip you tighter. His head nods back into you, a mixture of his drool and your moisture collectively pooling over his chin and neck. You feel him chuckling inside you, enjoying his meal wholeheartedly, and your voice aching in euphoria, making it become the show to his dinner.
“Cha—baby—Mmh, fuck, I’m drooling,” you wipe away the mess from your mouth before kneading your lace-cladded breasts, nipples erect and tender from the texture and sensation of the fabric on your chest and the tongue between your legs.
You find a smooth rhythm, moaning sweet pleasantries as you lose all sense of your surroundings, only staring back at Chan’s eyes that said all they needed to without words. His open-mouth kiss to the center of your core, followed by his focused suckle of your angry bud sent you butterflies in your tongue, your squeal letting him know just the type of effect he had on you.
He pulls away a moment for air, taking heavy pants, still admiring how the lingerie still looked delectable on you and thinking how it makes his head spin. “This is the best view ever.”
“Y-you—oh…shit…”
“Can’t think when I’m eating you out, can you?”
“I—Mmh, haa, ha…pussy g-good.”
Chan takes his time with you, interrupting every one of your rebuttals with effective distraction and you end up forgetting whatever it is you’re poking him about, lost in the climax that is close to taking place the longer Chan indulges in the magic between your legs.
“C-cumming, Chan, I’m—“ You moan sounds that imitate nothing like a human, desperation in your throat at you suffocate the man beneath, but feeling your harsh control raise no effect on the urgency in your boyfriend’s tongue, lapping you away like a starved man.
You set free of the tension inside, shaking uncontrollably, feeling only more stimulation as Chan enjoys the last bit of your pearly sweet cum. It dances on his tongue like cream, and he takes advantage of your weak state with slow languid thrusts, savoring your presence. You collapse on your side, exhaustion taking over almost immediately as you shut your eyes from the room light.
“I’m, wow. I…really missed that.” You can’t help but weakly laugh.
“Good to hear because I’m certainly not done with my present just yet.”
220 notes · View notes
cheesybadgers · 3 months
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Narcos Fic: Old Habits Die Hard (Chap. 21)
Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20, Chapter 22, Chapter 23, Chapter 24
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Pairing: Javier Peña x Horacio Carrillo
Words: 7,356
Summary: After arriving in Manizales, Horacio introduces Javier to his family, leading to a long overdue heart-to-heart and a drinking game with a twist.
Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Discussions of coming out, grief, parental loss, canon-typical violence, allusions to period-typical prejudices, drinking game, smoking, swearing.
Notes: Firstly, I will soften the blow of leaving it so long since my last update with the news that chapter 22 will be posted within the next week or so! I decided to split it in half to give more space to the conversations between the characters. So, hopefully that will make up for my elongated silence lol.
Secondly, I finished drafting the rest of the fic at the end of last year 👀 So, I just need to complete editing on chapter 23 and the epilogue. Then, and I can't believe I'm actually saying this, it will be time to leave these two messy idiots to it.
I think it will take me some time to get my head around it coming to an end, not least of all because it's been almost 3 years since I started working on this behemoth. And I can't believe how much has happened/changed since then, yet my love for this ship and this story has stayed strong and close to my heart. So, a bit of a premature thank you to anyone who has supported it at any point since March 2021, it's been quite the emotional rollercoaster ❤️ As always, I love hearing from my readers, so feel free to drop me a comment/message!
I’ve also added to my OHDH trivia post to cover this chapter if anyone is interested.
Chapter 21: For Old Times' Sake
A haze of mist hung low on the horizon, clinging to the rolling waves of verdant peaks that bled seamlessly together with worn asphalt until it was impossible to tell where the sky began and the earth ended.
Luckily, the tyres of the hire car were built for rougher terrain, and it wasn’t the first time Horacio had driven this route. Admittedly, it would have been easier to fly. But this had the added benefit of giving Javier a taste of undiscovered territory.
If truth be told, it gifted them more time to mentally prepare for what was getting closer with every hour that passed, each stop off to admire the view and refresh a stubborn way to prolong the status quo.
Progress had been slow for the last hour as the congested traffic crawled along the sharp angles of the road with its treacherous drops only a few inches away. They had come to a standstill behind a bus that allowed passengers off to take photos, and with little room to manoeuvre around the vehicle, a trail of cars had no choice but to wait.
Javier lounged back in the passenger seat, one foot resting on the opposite knee, his elbow leaning on the door, and the window half open.
He watched Horacio’s hands on the steering wheel alternate between clenching and tapping, a particular kind of rigidity returning to his jaw for the first time in months – if not years.
Javier made an executive decision by reaching into the glove box. He pulled out an emergency pack of cigarettes and a lighter they had stashed away before setting off from Medellín.
He lifted one out of the pack and sparked up. “So, did you say it’s a farm we’re heading to?” There was no point asking the obvious, so distraction it was.
“A coffee farm on the outskirts of the city, yeah. It belongs to Fabián’s family. He and his brother, Santiago, do the bulk of the work now their father’s winding down.”
“Sounds nice. And kinda familiar.”
Horacio’s eyes finally left the windshield and met Javier’s with a shadow of a smile. “Yeah, it does. A lot hillier than Texas, though.”
“Well, that wouldn’t be hard.” Javier held out his smoke across the car, their first one that wasn’t post-coital in a long time. But needs must.
Horacio apparently agreed as he accepted it with a huff of resignation. “Fine, one for the road.”
“I think it’s allowed on roads like this one.”
“I did warn you.”
“Hey, no, I like it. Keeps you on your toes.”
“It reminds me of when Papá drove us to visit Tia Salomé and Tio Jairo in Bogotá. He and Mamá let us have sweets for the long journey but warned us the Mareco would take them away if we didn’t behave.”
“The Mareco?”
“La Leyenda del Mareco. It was a story we were told as kids. The Mareco’s a red devil that looks like a lizard on two legs. He steals children’s candy and conjures up a whirlwind to blow them away if they don’t obey their parents.”
Javier nodded in recognition as Horacio passed their cigarette back. “La Llorona was the story used to scare me and my cousins.”
“Oh yeah, we got that one as well.”
“I gotta say, the Mareco explains a lot.”
“About what?”
“About how you developed a problem with authority.”
“What’s your excuse then?”
“What can I say? I was led astray.”
It was a blatant lie, but Javier didn’t care when it caused laughter lines to materialise in the corner of Horacio’s eyes.
“We both know you were drawn to it as much as you resented it.”
“Only where you were concerned. Anyway, you were just as bad even though you'd never admit it.”
“Maybe you were my exception too.”
A moment of silence fell as memory after memory collided, snapshots of how the push and pull between them had evolved with their relationship.
"Listen, I was thinking,” Javier started before taking a drag, “would it make things easier if you wore this? Just while we’re here, I mean.”
Horacio’s gaze drifted to Javier’s exposed skin, the taillights of the car in front catching on the crucifix at his chest. “No,” he said matter-of-factly. “It’s yours now.”
By the time their cigarette was finished, the traffic edged forward, and the road ahead and Javier’s hand on Horacio’s leg soon replaced conversation.
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Two and a half hours and several bursts of heavy rain later, the muddied hire car pulled up by a complex of buildings nestled amongst a sea of lush green and vibrant flowers. The buildings sat atop steep slopes of vegetation that led to the coffee plantations below, the foggy skyline above etched with rugged ridges and the ominous outline of Nevado del Ruiz in the distance.
Any sounds from life on a working coffee farm were drowned out by birdsong and their feet crunching beneath them as Horacio and Javier walked up the gravel path towards the main finca. It was typical in its style with a rustic tiled roof, whitewashed bricks and wooden pillars around its perimeter painted in the same shade of terracotta red as the doors and window frames. At the back of the property was a large garden with a patio area, pool and a spectacular view for miles on a clear day.
As they lugged their suitcases onto the porch, Alejandra waited to greet them at the front door. Her dark hair was styled in a bob with waves bordering on curls, the kind Javier imagined Horacio could grow if he wasn’t so insistent on keeping his hair short. At least since leaving the CNP, he had been less strict about cutting it.
The family resemblance between the two siblings was evident in their facial features, particularly in the shape of their noses, charcoal eyes and Cupid’s bows. But Alejandra was a few inches shorter, and her frame was slimmer on account of not carrying the same muscle as Horacio.
“The wanderer finally returns,” Alejandra announced as she pulled Horacio in for a long hug, neither of them keen to be the first to let go. “At least you remembered how to use the phone before turning up on my doorstep.”
“Of course. It's good to see you. But I am sorry I left it so long. There’s, erm…a lot to catch up on.”
“I’ll say.” She peered curiously behind Horacio. “But first, let me say hello to this handsome new face.”
She all but pushed Horacio to one side, forgoing any formal introductions he might have had planned. All Horacio could do was stand and watch two parts of his life converge that, for a long time, he believed would never – and could never – meet.
Javier had hung back by several feet, his hands self-consciously stuffed into the pockets of his jeans as he kept his eyes on the ground until he was spoken to.
“Hi there, I’m Alejandra. You must be Javier?”
“Oh, er, yeah, hi.” For reasons unbeknownst to Javier, he raised his hand in a stiff wave rather than the relaxed handshake he had planned and felt the heat instantly rise in his cheeks. “Pleasure to finally meet you. Beautiful place you’ve got up here.”
“Likewise. And thanks.” Much to Javier's relief, she took the lead and held out a hand for him to shake with a reassuring smile. “Although you’ve got Fabián to thank for that. He’s down there giving a tour to one of our new buyers.” Alejandra turned back to face Horacio. “Mamá’s shopping for school supplies and tonight’s dessert with Juan José, Sofía and Mateo. Ana María’s out with friends. But they should all be back in the next few hours.”
Horacio nodded but remained taciturn, keeping to himself his strong suspicions that Alejandra had made sure she was the only one to greet them upon arrival.
“Come on, you can show Javier around whilst I make us something to eat and drink.”
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It had been a long time since Horacio’s last visit, but he could just about remember the layout of the place. He took Javier through the downstairs rooms, moving from the hall to the living areas and then the kitchen, which appeared tidier now than in his dreams.
The décor was all tiled or wooden floors and earthy tones, contrasting against large airy windows that made the landscape outside seem like a part of the finca. Evidence of three generations and two cats was scattered everywhere in the form of toys, games, videos, tapes, books, various coffee products and photographs from over the years. In one corner stood a home altar containing a large crucifix, prayer cards, rosary beads, candles, and a statue of Virgen de Chiquinquirá. In the opposite corner was a shelf full of old vinyl with Lucho Bermúdez taking pride of place, naturally.
Upstairs housed six bedrooms and three bathrooms, on account of the brood of four children, three adults and a spare room. The spare room was their last stop, where they dumped their luggage, sharing an amused glance at the double bed with a smaller fold-out one laid out in the corner with a pile of fresh sheets.
“As your guest, I take it I get the bigger one?” Javier asked with a spark of mischief in his eye.
“Well, technically, I’m also a guest here. And I did do all the driving.”
“Maybe I’ll, er, flip you for it later.”
Horacio merely raised a brow at the suggestion in Javier’s tone before they headed back downstairs.
They sat under cover of the terrace in the wildly growing garden, just in case the rain returned, which was always a distinct possibility in Manizales. An impressive platter of fruits was laid out on the table alongside freshly made coffee.
“So, how was the wedding?” Alejandra asked as she poured from a pot into three cups, the dark, rich aroma diffusing into the same crisp air the beans were grown and harvested.
Horacio accepted a cup with a thanks and passed the other to Javier. “It was nice. Good to see everyone again.”
“How’s Trujillo doing? It’s been strange seeing his face all over the news.”
Rather than his, Horacio thought with a strange lurch to the gut he wasn’t expecting. “He’s doing well; he’s a Major now. He deserves some happiness after everything.”
“He’s not the only one.”
Alejandra gave Horacio a pointed look, one he wasn’t ready to entirely meet, so he reached for a slice of guayaba instead.
“And Javier...I take it this is your first visit to Manizales?” she continued, offering him the fruit tray.
“Thanks. And yeah, it is. Never got the time to explore much beyond Bogotá and Medellín.” That wasn't exactly true, but Javier didn’t think talk of Cartagena or Tolú would be welcome right now.
“Well, I hope it won’t be your last.”
Horacio could feel another look directed his way but pretended not to notice it and sipped on his coffee.
Once they had eaten their weight in fruit, Alejandra had some business calls to make, leaving Javier and Horacio to unpack and freshen up before reconvening to make a start on dinner.
Of course, it had to be sudado de pollo. Horacio and Alejandra worked as a team, issuing sporadic instructions to Javier when necessary. But he was happy listening to them catch up and reminisce.
“That smells amazing already,” Javier said as he finely chopped onions across a wooden board, gesturing to the dishful of chicken thighs that Alejandra had just finished marinating.
“Mamá’s secret blend,” she replied as she set the dish aside to move on to dicing several tomatoes.
“Oh yeah? What would I have to do to get the recipe for that?” Javier reflexively caught Horacio’s eye across the kitchen.
“If we told you, we’d have to kill you.” Horacio shot Javier a warning look that indicated he was only half joking before focusing intently on cutting up a large batch of yuca and potatoes.
“Yeah, not even Fabián knows.”
“Papá never knew either. But he was happy for us or Mamá to make it for him.”
“My Mamá was the same with her Abuela’s morisqueta. Although, not long before she passed, she left me and my Pops the recipe.”
Alejandra paused her knife to look up at Javier, the surprise on her face soon transforming into recognition and sympathy. “I bet it’s delicious. You should make it for us some time.”
Now it was Horacio’s turn to stop, his eyes travelling from Alejandra to Javier and back again as the implication of his sister’s words hung as heavy in the kitchen as the aromatic spices of her marinade.
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Once the chicken and vegetables were all prepped and placed in a pot on the stove, the front door opened and closed, a loud chatter of voices soon filling the hallway.
Before Javier knew what was happening, he was being introduced to the children, shaking hands with Fabián, then kissing Elena’s cheek.
“Welcome, Javier. It’s good to put a face to a name at last,” Elena said, thoroughly taking in his appearance, apparently satisfied with what she saw.
At last. Javier wasn’t sure whether those words put him at ease or made him more nervous, but he managed to push such thoughts behind a smile. “Nice to meet you, and likewise.”
Javier had briefly seen pictures of Horacio’s family in the past. But he, too, spent time studying Elena now that he was close enough to smell the floral notes of her perfume. Neat oval glasses and a mix of dark and light grey hair cut short and choppy framed her sharp features, the shape of her nose and Cupid’s Bow matching those of her children.
“No thanks to this one here, mind you.” Despite her chastisement, Elena embraced her son tightly, reluctant to let go. “I think he’s been hiding from us.”
“You know it wasn’t like that, Mamá.” Although, over his Mamá’s head, Horacio gave Javier a sheepish look that said otherwise. “It is good to see you. And I’m sorry I left it so long.”
Upon greeting his nieces and nephews, Horacio was struck by how much they had all grown up since his last visit. Ana María was the spitting image of her mother. Juan José was several inches taller than Horacio and resembled his father more than ever. And Mateo and Sofía had presumably become resentful of all the matching outfits in their younger years of being twins, going out of their way to dress as differently from each other as possible. Once they had said their obligatory hellos, they scattered around the house and no doubt wouldn’t re-appear until dinner was ready.
Right on cue, when Alejandra brought out steaming and brimming plates full of sudado de pollo, everyone rapidly took their places around the table.
Silence fell as they tucked in, the warmth and comfort of childhood cocooning Horacio from what he knew was inevitable. A welcomed interruption from his thoughts came with a soft brush against his leg, his instincts telling him it was one of the cats issuing their own greeting. But he should have known better.
As they ate and endured the usual family small talk, Javier's foot became Horacio's anchor, subtle and soothing rubs against his ankle unseen under the table. Steady, grounding, home. 
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Horacio carried the last few empty plates to the kitchen, where piles of dishes were already stacked high. He had left Javier with Juan José and Mateo, who were showing off the latest video games they had got for Christmas – and were comfortably beating Javier at them, too.
“I’ll wash; you dry. For old times’ sake,” Alejandra said without looking up from the sink where she was filling the basin with water and suds.
“Okay. On the condition we both tidy everything away afterwards.”
“Deal. You’ll just put it in the wrong place unsupervised anyway.”
Horacio swatted the tea towel he’d picked up in her direction, only for her to retaliate by flicking bubbles in his hair.
“We did okay with dinner, didn’t we? I haven’t made that in a long time,” Horacio said.
“You had a good teacher.”
“So did you.”
“Oh, I know. I think that’s why Papá always loved it. We were all in there somewhere.”
“Like our Christmas tamales.”
“Oh, yeah, he couldn’t get enough of those. Remember we always had to make an extra batch for him to take to work?”
“He said they were to share with his unit, but I’m not sure many made it that far.”
Now they were laughing as they worked in tandem, Alejandra changing the water as Horacio cleared the draining board, ready for the next load.
“Did you ever feel like you let him down?” Horacio asked after a long silence, both siblings seemingly waiting for the other to fill it.
“Of course. You know Papá didn’t approve of Fabián at first, right?”
“What?”
“You must’ve heard the arguments?”
“To be fair, there were plenty of arguments between you and Papá.”
“Yeah, and they were mostly about me daring to marry someone other than a cop.”
“That’s what it was about?”
“Mostly. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Fabián; I just think he had suitors picked out for me. People he knew he could trust.”
“But they got along in the end, didn’t they?”
“Once Papá had got over himself, yeah.” Alejandra let out a nostalgic laugh, which Horacio quickly joined in with. “He could be tough when he wanted to be, but…he meant well,” she settled on. “Once he saw how happy I was and how Fabián had taken after his father with the farm, he came around. It was never personal with Papá. It’s just the way he was.”
“So, you don’t think he’d be disappointed in me…” Horacio paused to swallow, his throat drier than a Texan summer. “For quitting?” he got out eventually.
Alejandra gave Horacio a look he’d seen countless times over the years. One only a big sister could give her little brother when she had to feign ignorance of something she had already discovered for herself. The perks of being the eldest.
“How did you know?”
“Horacio, are you really asking that of someone who has been surrounded by cops all her life?”
Horacio rolled his eyes but let Alejandra have that one unchallenged.
“I thought you might have been discharged on medical grounds, to be honest. I hoped you’d seen sense. Or maybe met someone.”
“I wasn’t discharged, but I negotiated a payout after my injury.”
Alejandra released a self-satisfied hum, a whisp of a smile threatening to break free from the corners of her mouth. “Two out of three’s not bad, I suppose.”
Horacio gulped hard enough for Alejandra to hear; he had no doubt about that. But no words followed, not even when he caught her eye.
“You love him, don’t you?” It wasn’t an accusation or an interrogation. In fact, it was barely even a question.
“Yes.” It caught Horacio off guard how fast he answered. How direct and concise he’d been.
“And he loves you.” There was no pretence of a question mark now, but rather a clarification of a well-established fact. A rite of passage both parties needed to hear.
“He does.”
“Enough to walk away from it all, too.”
Horacio nodded, scared the lump in his throat would give way to something else as his glassy gaze met Alejandra’s.
“His father – Chucho – owns a ranch in Laredo, Texas. That’s where I went after…” he trailed off, not wishing to dwell on the finer details of the ambush. “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you. I hated lying after everything we’ve been through. But I figured the less you and Mamá knew, the safer it was.”
“I had a feeling you’d left Colombia. But Texas?” Alejandra blew out a low whistle. “That’s the part we’ll need to prepare Mamá for.”
“They’re Mexican-American. And the ranch is right on the border by the river.”
“I’d lead with that part if I were you. Not sure you can avoid a lecture about fraternising with Spanish colonisers, though. Twice.”
“I got that the first time I moved over there. But she went quiet when I reminded her Madrid was good enough for Simón Bolívar.”
Alejandra’s shoulders shook in unison with Horacio’s until a comfortable silence fell between them.
“So, you were there a whole year?”
“Just over. I couldn’t do much to help for the first few months – whilst this healed.” Horacio flexed his right arm to prove to Alejandra that everything was back in working order. “But it was good to have a routine eventually.”
“Wait a minute…you worked on the ranch?”
“No need to sound so surprised when you live here. I was actually pretty good at it. And I liked it.” Although Horacio understood and returned his sister’s bemusement because even he had shocked himself.
“No, I’m not. It’s just…oh, Horacio...” Alejandra broke off to bring her hand to his cheek, her brow creased, but her eyes caught between being on the brink of a smile and tears. “Look at you.”
Horacio made a show of wiping away the suds from his cheekbone, hoping he wouldn’t still have an audience afterwards. But no such luck. “It’s not what I expected to happen – any of it. But it just....felt right. I know that probably doesn’t make sense.”
“Actually, it makes perfect sense.”
“Does it?”
“Well, for starters, I can see the appeal. Obviously. Can’t blame you for going for a younger man, either. And taller.”
Horacio rolled his eyes and hoped his face didn’t look as hot as it felt. “Not by that much. On either count.”
“Hey, no judgment from me. But seriously, of course, it makes sense. I know we all used to joke about you being married to your job, but…after Juliana, I did wonder if there was more to it than that.”
“I think burying myself in work killed two birds with one stone.”
“It was killing you.”
“I know.”
“And Papá would have told you the same.”
A hollow laugh escaped Horacio’s throat, Martínez’s words from the wedding still ringing intrusively in his ears. “I’d have been kicked out of the force. He’d have made sure of that. And I wouldn’t have blamed him.”
“Right, because you were the first officer on Colombian soil to commit violence or be used as a political weapon.”
“He was against it, Alejandra. La Violencia was enough for anyone to see in a lifetime.”
But that was just another in a long line of civil wars. Even if his father's life hadn’t been cut short, he would have seen yet another bloody outbreak in which the state did more to perpetuate the death toll than bring peace to the country. And Horacio had plenty of blood on his hands. At least his Papá was spared witnessing that.
“And you don’t think he was ever put in a compromising position back then? You don’t think La Violencia was why he didn’t want the same for you? You won’t remember much, and Mamá and Papá never spoke about it around us, but I got pretty good at listening through doors.”
“He never did talk about it. Even when I was older.”
Not that he really needed to, Horacio conceded. Even though they were kept relatively safe and away from the violence in Medellín compared to other regions of Antioquia – particularly the rural parts – he had heard enough over the years to fill in the blanks.
He remembered his Mamá’s stories of helping the displaced, those who sought refuge in the city. Thousands who had been forced to flee the violence and start over again, often in makeshift housing on the outskirts, the irony never lost on Horacio that one of those neighbourhoods became Comuna 13. But for all his Mamá’s tales and the work she continued to do until she left for Manizales, his Papá never spoke about those years.
“He was protecting you. Like Mamá was with us after he died. Sometimes silence is easier.”
“I know. I get it. Before he died, the cocaine trade hadn’t got going in Colombia yet. It was mostly marijuana. But with FARC around and the gringos spreading their anti-communist propaganda, he knew it was a question of when, not if, another war was coming. I think he hoped things would be different this time.”
“You did what you had to do, Horacio. Just like he did. Just like every generation of our family did to survive. What’s done is done.”
“I’m not sure you’d say that if you knew everything.”
“You think I never heard any of the rumours out here? Or picked up a newspaper once in a while?”
“You never said anything.”
Alejandra shot Horacio a cutting glare, the kind he was an expert at delivering, but only a select few could get away with throwing back at him. “I knew you wouldn’t talk about it even if I asked.”
Horacio scoffed. Touché. “Not all of it was true.”
It was Alejandra’s turn to laugh. “Well, I kinda figured you weren’t dead after you called.”
“I don’t just mean the ambush.”
“I know,” she said briskly.
But Horacio couldn’t ignore the relief in her body language. Even though he understood it, a wave of shame hit him for even planting a seed of doubt in her – his older sister, the mother of his nieces and nephews – mind in the first place.
“But that’s all in the past now,” he concluded, shutting down his own train of destructive thought. “And you’re right; Papá’s not here. But Javier is.”
“So your future’s in Laredo, then.”
“Are you mad?”
“Am I mad that my little brother is finally getting his shit together and is head over heels in love? Oh, yeah, I’m livid.”
An inferno had spread across Horacio’s cheeks, and he struggled to think of a response. But luckily for him, Alejandra wasn’t done yet.
“It’s…safe, though, right? For you both to live together?”
“As safe as anywhere else. Every country has its problems. I’m sure there’ll always be people with something to say. But we’ve been careful.”
“Just promise me you’ll keep being careful.”
“We will, I promise.”
“I can’t guarantee I’ll convince Mamá to visit in the summer, though.”
“That’s fair. But you do think she’ll want to visit?”
“She might be strong, but we know what she lost – what we all lost. So, if there’s a chance for you to share your life with someone as she did with Papá, to be safe – to be happy after everything – yeah, I think she'll want to visit.”
“Do you think Papá would if he could?” Horacio knew it was a loaded grenade of a question and unfair to ask. But he couldn’t help himself.
Alejandra hesitated, seemingly aware she was between a rock and a hard place. “Maybe in his old age. Or if he knew Javier saved your life.”
“How did –?”
She expelled a comedically dramatic sigh. “Keep up, manito. When you called, you told me the DEA came after you that night. I don’t need to hold a badge to guess who that was.”
Horacio was banged to rights once more as he tried to recall the exact information he had relayed to Alejandra in the hours after the ambush; evidently, it was more than he thought.
“He – and his partner, Steve – went against orders and got suspended for helping me and my men.”
“So, they took a leaf out of your book then?”
“Something like that.”
Before Horacio could overthink it, he took a deep breath and told Alejandra everything. From the blackmail to his and Javier’s resignations to their year in Madrid, it all came tumbling out whilst she kept washing and he kept drying. Just like old times. Just like their Papá was in the next room along with their Mamá. And in so many ways, he always would be, not as a ghost of their past, but forever a part of their present and future.
------------------------------------------------------
Arriving during the week had its advantages, as it wasn’t necessary for Horacio to make excuses to get an early night. Work and school beckoned in the morning for most of the household, so the evening had ended in a low-key fashion.
That was more than fine by Horacio after a long drive and an overdue heart-to-heart. He lay on his side, his back nestled into Javier’s chest in the centre of the spare room’s double bed. They made up the fold-out bed for pretences, but it was purely extra space to store their luggage.
A bedside lamp and hints of moonlight peaking around the edges of the curtains cast the room in soft shadows, the low murmur of a telenovela in one of the nearby bedrooms the only sound to be heard at this hour.
“How old were you there?” Javier asked, his voice muffled against Horacio’s shoulder where he’d temporarily paused his trail of kisses after picking out one of several framed photos on the wall.
“The one from Alejandra’s wedding? I’d have been 24.”
“Cute curls.” Javier’s nose nuzzled against the back of Horacio’s head, which was sadly lacking the same unruliness as in the photo.
“Fuck you.”
Javier sniggered. “Hey, I was being serious! They suit you. Plus…more to grab hold of.” He slid a hand into Horacio’s hair as his mouth resumed its work along bare skin.
Horacio’s back arched with a sigh as he leaned into Javier’s touch. “You know we can’t get carried away. Not here.”
“I know.” Of course, Javier understood. It was one thing for him to have sneaked in and out of the guesthouse back in Laredo; it was quite another to be under the same roof as Horacio’s whole family. But that didn’t stop the almost petulant tone in Javier’s voice. He was still human, after all.
“I promise we’ll make up for it once we leave.”
“I’ll hold you to that.”
Despite their flirtation, exhaustion was thick in their throats and pressed heavily on their limbs, pushing them closer towards sleep as the butterflies in their stomachs finally settled.
“The wedding wasn’t that long after Papá died. Alejandra asked me to give her away instead. At first, I didn’t think I deserved to take Papá’s place. But I think she needed me there with her, so, I said yes.”
“Of course you did, and I bet she never forgot that.”
“No, and I’ll never forget tonight."
------------------------------------------------------
It was still dark in the spare room when Javier stirred and untangled himself from Horacio as slowly as possible. He had woken up thirsty and threw on a precautionary pair of jeans before tiptoeing down the wooden staircase towards the kitchen.
The clock on the oven read 01:30am, so he wasn't expecting to find the spotlights above it switched on. He searched through the cupboards until he found a tumbler and filled it with water from the tap, taking large gulps until the glass was drained.
“So, you’re a night owl too, then?”
“Shit!” Javier hissed, spinning around with a sharp intake of breath, almost dropping the glass on the tiled floor.
“Sorry,” Alejandra whispered. “I was just reading before heading off to bed.”
“Oh, no, it’s fine. I just needed some water. Didn’t think anyone else would be up.” Javier was suddenly very aware of the fact he was standing half naked in the middle of the kitchen, Horacio’s necklace like a flashing beacon at his chest. “Obviously,” he added with an awkward huff, looking down at his state of semi-undress.
“Right,” Alejandra replied with a stifled laugh. “How about you avoid catching a chill whilst I find something a bit more…authentic than tap water?”
Once Javier came back downstairs with his chest now covered, Alejandra was sat at the kitchen table with two shot glasses and a bottle of aguardiente.
“Not sure my stomach can handle any more of that after the wedding.”
“Lightweight. And just think of it as an initiation.”
Javier sighed in defeat, accepting the challenge as he took a seat opposite Alejandra.
She unscrewed the bottle and tipped measures into each glass. “Wanna make this more interesting?”
“What do you have in mind?”
“Three shots, three questions each. But you can only ask a question after you’ve emptied your glass.”
Javier laughed for a second, unsure what he imagined Alejandra to be like, yet somehow, she surprised him anyway. “Okay. Already sounds better than every other icebreaker inflicted on me. Who goes first?”
“Guest’s choice.”
He stared down at his glass as though it was the barrel of a gun, remembering why he had eventually insisted whiskey was his and Horacio’s go-to drink. When he first arrived in Colombia, Horacio would offer him a shot, pouring liberally from the stash of aguardiente in his office drawer, and Javier accepted on multiple occasions. But it was over and done with like a spoonful of caustic medicine. At least whiskey could be drunk slower and delayed saying goodnight.
That wasn't the order of things now, though. So, Javier grabbed the bull by the horns and threw back his glass, wincing at the aniseed burn as it slid down his throat.
“New rule: you’ve got 30 seconds to come up with a question. Otherwise, you take another shot.”
“Alright, alright, I’m thinking.”
Alejandra’s gaze fell on the oven clock, ramping up the pressure. “10 seconds left…”
“Okay. I’ve got one. What was it like growing up with a younger brother?”
“Annoying, obviously. Especially after he got the highest grade in his English class. I don’t know where he picked them up, but he knew all the swear words. Of course. He drove me crazy testing them out.”
“He did that to my old partner, Steve – his Spanish isn’t great, and Horacio sure liked to remind him whenever he got the chance.”
“Sounds about right. No wonder he liked you – best of both worlds.”
“Maybe.” Javier knew what Alejandra meant, but it didn’t stop heat from spreading through his cheeks regardless.
“He was generally pretty quiet at school,” Alejandra continued, "but not afraid to take the lead…or break a few rules.”
“Again, I’m not surprised.”
“Nope.” They both laughed at that. “He always liked to be moving, though. Doing something with his hands. Or playing sports – he was a good runner. We used to race each other around Jardín Botánico, and he would always beat me. I think he already knew he was in training for the Academy. So, obviously, he was accepted. No doubt some thought he got a free pass, but he was determined to prove himself. Then he had to grow up.”
The joviality faded abruptly from Alejandra’s face, transforming into a wistful smile.
“We both did. But at least I’d had more time with Papá. Good job I did have those few years to myself ‘cos Horacio followed him around like a shadow. Until he couldn’t. Then he thought he had to be the man of the house. Even when there were two much more qualified women for the job.”
“He thought it was his duty."
“Yeah. He did.” There was something akin to awe in how Alejandra looked at Javier, as though she was simultaneously taken aback and impressed that someone summed up and understood her brother so accurately and succinctly.
“Isn’t it your turn, now?” Javier asked after a moment of silence.
Without further hesitation, Alejandra downed her shot. “Why Colombia?”
“Why not Colombia?” He tried a feeble laugh but knew that wouldn't cut it. “I studied Gabriel García Márquez in high school. Although, can’t say I really got him at the time. Took me another try when I was older.”
Now he thought about it, Javier wasn’t convinced he exactly got him the second time around either, considering García Márquez’s views on extradition aligned fiercely with Horacio’s. But that was the luxury of hindsight.
“By then, my Mamá had long since passed, my fiancée had just become my ex, and I had no fucking clue what I was doing with my life. Guess I needed to get lost in someone else’s problems for a while.”
“Tell me about it.” Alejandra held a book up in the air that had been abandoned on the table since Javier joined her.
“Smart move. My teacher loved telling us how García Márquez moved to Mexico and wrote One Hundred Years of Solitude over there. And with how things went down in Laredo, I could see the appeal of starting over in another country. Mexico was…too close to home. The drug war was getting out of hand. More and more agents were being transferred. And what’s the line?” Javier broke off, eyes cast towards the ceiling as he licked his lips in concentration. “‘We came’, they said, ‘because everyone is coming’.”
Alejandra let a pause of bewilderment pass between them as she studied Javier with intrigue. “You’re not at all like the other gringos he’s worked with in the past.”
“Did he bring any of them home to his family?”
“No. You’re the first. As I’m sure you're aware.”
“Maybe.”
“Drink up.”
Javier did as he was told, repressing a cough as the potent liquid worked its magic. “Why did you choose farm life over being a cop?”
Alejandra laughed a little too loudly, considering the time. “There are other career choices, you know.”
Javier gasped. “There are?”
“Hard to believe, isn’t it? But that’s not quite how it went for me. The farm came with Fabián. They’re sort of a package deal. I’m sure you can understand that.” She threw Javier a knowing smile. “But I ruled out being a cop years before I moved here or met Fabián. I knew from Papá that women in the force were few and far between back then. They’re still pretty scarce now. I wasn’t up for putting myself in the firing line being a General’s daughter. They never would have respected me or believed I got there on my own merit. I didn’t want to spend my life trying to gain anyone's approval.”
“Makes sense. It’s not easy in the force if you’re…different from the rest."
“Exactly. I’m not sure it’s what Papá even wanted for me anyway. Because he knew what it’d be like. Then there was Mamá with her social work. She was in her element. Always fighting someone’s corner, especially during the suffrage movement. I think I was the odd one out in the family, ‘cos everyone else seemed to have…a calling except for me. So, I studied, got a business degree, became a buyer for various companies and ended up in the coffee industry. And the rest is history.”
“Good for you. And I guess that explains Horacio’s, er, distaste for a badly made cup of coffee.”
“Yep. He’s got no excuse. And neither do you anymore.”
“I’ll bear that in mind. Your turn.” Javier took the bottle this time and filled Alejandra’s glass.
She downed it in one go. “¿Por qué no un llanero ahora que has descartado ser policía?” (Why not a llanero now you’ve ruled out being a police officer?)
“¿Por qué no un vaquero?” (Why not a vaquero?) Javier corrected with a glint in his eye that Alejandra returned with an eye roll. “Like you said…there are other jobs. That one was just never for me. I need more variety day-to-day. Like I’m making a bigger difference somehow. But preferably without the pretty fucking significant risk of death or blackmail.”
“A fair demand.”
“Right? It’s not like I’m asking for a raise.”
“When I moved here, I didn’t know where life was taking me, especially when the kids came along. I couldn’t keep my old job because of all the travelling…and being a mother was the priority until they started school. It took me a while to find my place on the buying and selling side of the business. So, all I’m saying is, things might get clearer once you’re settled back in Laredo.”
“I’ll drink to that.” Javier raised his glass and nodded his thanks to Alejandra, touched by her unprompted advice.
His third and final question had arrived, and the pressure to make it a good one pressed uncomfortably on his increasingly fuzzy head. “If your father was here now, what would you say to him?”
For a brief second, Javier feared he had overstepped some forbidden and invisible line and been overfamiliar with someone he only really knew by proxy at this stage.
But whilst Alejandra’s smile was permanently stained with traces of grief, warmth flickered then grew in her charcoal eyes. “I’d tell him we’re fine. That we miss him and wish he’d come back for good but that he needn’t worry. Because even though Mamá didn’t always get things right, she steered us through it as best she could. And we didn’t turn our backs on the world. That we found love in the dark.”
Alejandra sniffed and wiped the back of her hand across her nose. “Sorry. I think it’s the alcohol.”
“No, don’t be sorry.” Javier paused to clear his throat, blinking his vision back into focus. “It was beautifully said.” His hand reached for hers across the table, hoping again that he hadn’t gone too far.
But she let his hand rest there until she shook her head like a wet dog and poured her final shot. “Same question to you about your mother, obviously,” she said before downing the aguardiente in one.
Javier scoffed. “Well, I guess I deserved that.” He took his time, collecting his thoughts as though he was preparing an important speech. As though he’d been trying to find the right words for most of his life – and how rarely he’d succeeded.
“I’d tell her I miss her morisqueta. I’d tell her Pops visits her every week. But then I think she already knows that. Same way I think she made sure he never re-married.”
Javier couldn’t help but laugh, seeing with perfect clarity where his own loyal streak came from when his Pops was still as devoted to Mariana as the day they married. Siempre tuyo was no exaggeration.
“I’d make sure she knew he wasn’t alone, though. That he was known as Don Chucho to most in Laredo. That she’d be proud of him for growing the community she helped start. I’d brag about all the tamales we’ve made and quote her favourite poems. I’d introduce her to Horacio.”
He envisaged showing her Horacio’s poetry book, knowing that all it would take was for her to read Javier’s message in the opening pages to understand everything about who they were to each other. He’d even dreamed of it, waking with a ridiculous hope that she had somehow intercepted it.
“She sounds as incredible as your father. I hope one day I can thank him for taking my little brother under his wing when he needed it the most.”
“I’m sure that could be arranged.”
“I can’t – and don’t want to – imagine where he would have ended up without either of you, to be honest. He told me about the ambush…and everything else. And even though it doesn’t feel nearly enough, I just want to say...thank you.”
At first, Javier could only nod and swallow the lump bobbing at the base of his throat. “He did the same for me. It wasn’t easy walking away from my job, don’t get me wrong, but it was different for him. He felt like he’d betrayed Colombia and his Papá. Yet he did it anyway.”
“When it’s the right person, the sacrifices are worth it. And I can’t think of anyone more worthy of wearing that.” Alejandra’s sightline had fallen to Javier’s neck. His chest may have now been covered, but the silver chain still poked out from beneath the seam of his shirt.
She poured them a bonus shot each and raised her glass. “Welcome to the family.”
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jedijesi · 4 months
Text
Caught in the Cat's Web Chapter 14
Miguel O'Hara x Felicia Hardy!Reader
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Previous Chapter 🕸️ Series Masterlist
Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Implied Smut, Heartbreak, Little bit of Violence.
Word Count: 4K
Summary: Felicia relives her heartbreaking past with her ex, Peter Parker AKA Spider-Man. 
Co-Author: @stclairesplace
A/N: Sorry for the late update, holidays and finals have taken us hostage. Enjoy this chapter, I loved writing it! I also recommend listening to the other woman by lana del rey during flashbacks!
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New York, Earth-192
Felicia and Miguel sat comfortably on the couch, pretending to be engrossed in the captivating show playing on the television as their minds wandered to the thoughts of each other's lips. She found solace in leaning against Miguel's chest, feeling the rhythmic rise and fall as he breathed, a comforting and familiar rhythm that reassured her.
The playful touch of his fingers touching the silver strands. As the scenes continued on the screen, Miguel would occasionally plant tender kisses on the crown of Felicia's head, causing her heart to beat faster. Then, with a delicate touch, he would kiss her neck, leaving a trail of affectionate pecks that ignited a spark within her. Each kiss left a tingling sensation in its wake, and Felicia couldn't help but sigh contentedly.
In this intimate moment, the outside world seemed to fade away as they found comfort and love in each other's presence, even if they were doing nothing but simply watching the television. The shared silence spoke volumes about their connection.
Miguel continued his sweet assault on Felicia's neck, listening to her soft gasps and moans, until LYLA's sudden appearance jolted Miguel out of his moment with Felicia. He sighed, reluctantly pulling away from her neck, his attention shifting to the unexpected intrusion.
"What?" Miguel asked, a trace of irritation in his voice.
"I thought you wanted updates," LYLA said, crossing her arms with a no-nonsense expression.
Miguel pressed one last tender kiss to Felicia's lips. "Enjoy your show, Hermosa. I'm going to go in the other room if that's alright."
Felicia nodded and stole one last kiss. "You can go to the gallery. Its the third door down the hall." She gestures with her hand. 
With a smile, Miguel briskly made his way to Felicia's gallery. He opened the French doors, stepping into the room that held breathtaking displays of art. The walls were adorned with some of the most stunning paintings, and practically every inch of the room was covered with canvases. Miguel can’t help but shake his head and smile, imagining all of the Black Cat’s escapades. 
“Miguel.” LYLA interrupts his daydreaming to remind him of her presence. 
“Yeah, sorry, what’s going on at HQ?” Miguel asks as he walks to the desk by the window where a box of newspapers had fallen. 
“One thing has been confirmed, It’s all an inside job.” Miguel sighs, bending over to help clean the mess on the floor. “Miss Drew and I interviewed everyone that works in the Gismo production so see if anyone has been smuggling them. So far, we’ve got nothing there. A little over two months ago there were a few outages in the security cams.”
“That must have been when they retrieved enough to give to the Maggia.” Miguel ponders as he places all of the newspapers back into the box. 
LYLA continues to theorize, but Miguel becomes enchanted by the headings of the newspapers. 
FAMOUS PAINTING: THE SWING, MISSING! NEW YORK’S NEW VILLAN, BLACK CAT?
Several security guards reported a woman in a 
black suit and claws stealing the precious art.  
Miguel chuckles to himself as he looks over his shoulder to where the girl in a pink gown on a swing, hung proudly in the center of the wall. Miguel flips through several more newspapers spanning over the years. As he flips through the various years and headlines staring his Felicia, he stops on one in particular that catches his eye. 
SPIDER-MAN AND BLACK CAT FIGHT SCORPION
Has the Black Cat changed her ways? 
“LYLA,” Miguel interrupts the AI’s train of thought. “Does Earth-192 have a Spider-Man?”
Taken back by Miguel’s random question, LYLA stops to go through the data in her codes. “Yes. Night-Spider and Spider-Man AKA Felicia Hardy and Peter Parker.” She informs. “Why do you ask?”
“She never mentioned having a Spider-Man.” His brows furrow. 
“According to my records, Peter Parker of Earth-192 sponsored Felicia throughout her training and interview process.” Wanting to know more, Miguel dives back into the box of newspapers. “Whatcha doing there, boss?” LYLA peaks over Miguel’s shoulder with suspicion.
“Just… looking.” He shrugs. 
“You sure you're allowed to do this? Might be a violation of her trust.” LYLA warns. 
“Holy shit.” He muttered as he finds exactly what he is looking for. 
SPIDER-MAN AND BLACK CAT KISS!
New York’s favorite crime-fighting duo was spotted kissing on the Empire State Building!
SPIDER-MAN AND BLACK CAT: NEW YORK’S FAVORITE COUPLE SAVES THE DAY AGAIN!
Spider-Man and Black Cat take down the sinister six! 
SPIDER-MAN AND BLACK CAT PREGNANCY?
Is she bloated or pregnant? 
SPIDER-MAN AND BLACK CAT ENGAGED?
Black Cat seen with diamond ring! Is it from cat burglar days or a special spider? 
SPIDER-MAN AND BLACK CAT BREAK UP!
Black Cat makes it very clear that it is over!
LYLA and Miguel read each headline in shock. Slowly, Miguel places the stack back into the box, trying to take in the new information. As he takes a step back, Miguel notices a newspaper crumpled on the ground. Hesitantly, he picks it up to read the headline. 
SPIDER-MAN AND NIGHT-SPIDER: NEW YORK’S COUPLE REUNITES WITH A KISS?
After a tragic car crash, the former Black Cat was seen working with Spider-Man and sharing a passionate kiss! 
Refusing to let his scattered mind confuse the situation, Miguel grabs the box, rushing back to Felicia. 
“Felicia,” Miguel calls out, striding down the hall into the living room. 
“Yes, my spide-” Felicia’s smile fades as she recognizes the box he holds. “What are you doing with that?” Her posture straightens to attention. 
Miguel timidly sits on the couch next to Felicia, setting it down between them. “I found this.” 
She sighs, staring at the two Newspapers on the top. “SPIDER-MAN AND BLACK CAT: NEW YORK’S FAVORITE COUPLE SAVES THE DAY AGAIN!” and “SPIDER-MAN AND NIGHT-SPIDER: NEW YORK’S COUPLE REUNITES WITH A KISS?” 
“Mí Vida.” Miguel brights Felicia out of her dark thoughts as his hand touches hers. “You can tell me.” 
“He was the guy that… kissed me that night- the first night I stayed with you.” Felicia could feel her heartache as memories began to flow filling her mind’s eye. 
“He was the asshole that kissed you!” Miguel shouted, his eyes glowing red with fury. 
Felicia nods. “Peter Parker, the man obsessed with the front page of the Daily Bugle.”
“I just don’t get it,” Miguel becomes baffled by the information. “Peter Parkers aren’t exactly known for being egotistical assholes.”
“He wasn’t always… he was my first love.” 
Freshman Year of College…
Black Cat offered a playful smile from her elevated vantage point, perched on the rooftop as she surveyed the treasures of Tiffany & Co. she planned to rob after nightfall.
"Tiffany's? Again?" Spider-Man couldn't help but express his disapproval. "Can't we fight somewhere else tonight?"
Her melodramatic gasp followed, and she placed a hand over her heart as though she'd been wounded. "I thought we were close enough not to judge each other."
Spider-Man moved closer, nimbly walking along the thin rooftop wall. "When are you going to join me on a real mission and help people?"
Black Cat met his gaze, her sultry tone curling into a teasing purr. "Whenever you decide to take me on a date."
Spider-Man chuckled at her response. "That's not fair. You never say yes."
Black Cat shrugged with a devious grin. "You haven't earned it yet, Spider."
Their flirtatious exchange took a more serious turn as Spider-Man whispered into her ear, "I thought I earned it two nights ago, but I guess I was just a booty call."
Before Black Cat could come up with a witty response, Spider-Man suddenly leaped off the building, swinging down to the street below. Concerned and curious, she hastily followed him, only to discover that he had stopped traffic to allow a family of ducks to cross safely.
It was a simple, lighthearted gesture, but it struck a chord with Felicia. She couldn't help but reconsider her goals and her plans for the night, including her intended heist at Tiffany's. Perhaps she did want to explore the Italian restaurant Spider-Man often raved about.
Junior Year of College…
Felicia's heart raced with excitement as she raced up the steps of the campus lecture hall, leaping into his arms. "Pete!”
"My precious girl," Peter replied with a tenderness in his voice. He showered his girlfriend's face with affectionate kisses as his arms wrapped tightly around her.
"I missed you," Felicia pouted, looking up through her lashes at her dashing boyfriend.
Peter couldn't help but chuckle at her infectious energy. "It's been 8 hours!" he teased, his eyes sparkling with affection as he held her close.
"8 hours is a long time to show you this!" Felicia exclaimed, pulling a newspaper out from behind her back. She bit her lip, eyes gleaming with anticipation.
Daily Bugle
SPIDER-MAN AND BLACK CAT: NEW YORK’S FAVORITE COUPLE SAVES THE DAY AGAIN!
"We're New York's favorite couple!" Felicia excitedly whispered, her eyes dancing with enthusiasm as she carefully ensured they wouldn't alert other students. "We were all over international news, babe!"
Peter took the newspaper and inspected the featured photo, which captured the thrilling action of Black Cat and Spider-Man's recent battle against Vulture, Shocker, The Lizard, Sand-Man, and Green Goblin.
"Look how much you've grown, baby," he said, his voice filled with pride and love. "I'm so proud of you. I couldn't have done it without the love of my life."
With those heartfelt words, Peter passionately kissed Felicia on the steps wanting everyone to see how much he loved his Felicia.
Later that night…
"Wanna order takeout to celebrate?" Felicia asked as she playfully traced invisible doodles onto Peter's chest.
"Chinese downstairs?" Peter responded with excitement, his eyes lighting up at the idea.
"Mmhmm!" She confirmed as her fingers continued to dance along his skin.
Peter couldn't help but smile, and he gently pulled Felicia in for a sweet, lingering kiss. "I love you so much," he whispered, his words laden with warmth and devotion.
Felicia giggled her laughter like a cascade of soft chimes, and gracefully slipped out of the bed to put on some clothes. "It shouldn't take long. Why don't you set up a movie and get some drinks ready?" she suggested a playful glint in her eyes.
"Sure, baby," Peter agreed, giving Felicia a playful smack on the ass before she left their cozy studio apartment.
As he reached for his sweatpants, his phone chimed with a message, a notification that displayed a name he hadn't seen in a long time. His heart raced as he read the name, his mind racing with questions and emotions. The air in the room seemed to thicken with anticipation, casting a shadow over what had been a tranquil and affectionate moment between him and Felicia.
MJ: Hey, Tiger. It's been quite a while. I caught a glimpse of you and your girlfriend on the news, and you two were nothing short of amazing. I'd love to catch up sometime. Feel free to text me whenever you can. I've missed you <3
Peter: Hey, thanks. I'm just relieved no one got hurt. Missing you too, by the way. How's everything going?
MJ: San Francisco has been chaotic. I can't help but wish I was back home with you. ;)
Peter hesitated, his gaze fixed on his phone, before typing his next message.
Peter: How's your boyfriend?
MJ: I called it quits with him yesterday.
Peter: Oh. I’m sorry to hear that. 
MJ: Don't worry. I'm genuinely happy.
MJ: I just realized that he's nowhere near as spectacular as you, Spider-Man ;)
Peter: Haha... Thanks. You're remarkable yourself too.
MJ: I'll be moving back after college next year. Perhaps we can reconnect?
Peter: Yeah, I'd really like that.
MJ: Can't wait to catch you on the news, Tiger. ;)
Peter's fingers danced over the phone screen as he exchanged messages with MJ. The nostalgia of their conversation filled him with a mix of emotions – a bittersweet blend of longing and fond memories. He couldn't help but smile to himself, lost in the exchange of words that felt like a breath of fresh air from his past.
"Dinner!" Felicia's cheerful voice broke through his daydreams as she walked into their cozy apartment, holding two plastic bags filled with takeout. Her vibrant enthusiasm clashed with the introspective mood that had overtaken Peter. "You didn't set anything up," she remarked, her smile slightly faded, but still optimistic.
Peter quickly wiped the smile from his face, placing his phone down as he returned to the present moment. "Oh, sorry," he mumbled, the weight of his previous conversation still lingering in his mind.
"It's okay, Spider. Everything alright?" Felicia inquired, her concern evident as she placed the bags of food on the small table by the window.
Peter managed to put on a smile, though the warmth that usually danced in his eyes was absent. "Never better." 
Today…
Felicia's gaze was distant as she stared at the black and white print of the newspaper. "After that," she continued, "he became utterly fixated on the limelight. It was like he couldn't get enough of it." Her fingers absently traced patterns on the paper, betraying the weight of those memories. "He'd pose for every picture, he became obsessed with his physique, and took on the most outrageous stunts," she sighed, the words laden with both disgust and disappointment.
The room fell into a contemplative silence for a moment, the distant sounds of the city filtering in through the window. Miguel scooted closer to Felicia, letting her fall into his arms so that he could hold her. Then, she added, her voice lower, "He hooked up with MJ the very day she returned to New York." The words hung in the air, heavy with the knowledge of a romance that had played out in the public eye, and the impact it had on Felicia's relationship with the man in question. “Took me a bit to find out though.” 
2 Weeks after Graduation…
The apartment was immaculate, as Felicia desired to surprise Peter on their special date night. Freshly cut flowers from the rooftop garden adorned the living space, their fragrant aroma mingling with the alluring scent of Felicia's new French perfume, filling the apartment with an ambiance of romance and elegance. She dressed in Peter’s favorite black dress with elegant make-up and sat on the fire escape of their cozy apartment, a hint of anticipation in her demeanor. She occupied herself by meticulously manicuring her nails, her signature black nail polish to match her attire. As the minutes ticked by, Peter's absence stretched to over an hour and a half, causing Felicia to be more engrossed in her nail care routine while the anticipation gradually turned into concern. 
As the clock marked the two-hour milestone and Felicia's attempts at contacting Peter remained fruitless, her growing concern turned into determination. She decided to take matters into her own hands, donning her iconic Black Cat suit. With her agile and graceful movements, she swung out into the vibrant New York night, visiting the locations Peter frequently frequented in the hopes of finding him.
While gliding through the cityscape, the distinct sound of Peter's hearty laughter reached her ears, piercing through the bustling nightlife. Guided by this familiar echo, Felicia zeroed in on an apartment. With her newfound spider-powers, she stealthily crawled along the brick wall. Her cat-like finesse allowed her to peer inside the cluttered room, where she spotted Peter seated on a couch. Tears glistened in his eyes as he burst into laughter, the intensity of his amusement visible through the window. The sight both relieved her and piqued her curiosity, as she wondered what had brought such joy to her often absentminded boyfriend. Adjusting her angle, she finds the source in her blind spot. 
Felicia's heart plummeted and an overwhelming feeling of nausea washed over her as she beheld the scene before her. Watching MJ in her underwear, return to the couch with two glasses of wine, a million thoughts raced through her mind. She knew she couldn't let Peter see how he had just shattered her world.
With a heavy heart and a sense of devastation, Felicia glided back to the apartment, her swift, graceful movements belying the turmoil within. She hastily packed her belongings, leaving no trace of her presence behind. The only place she could run to was the secret penthouse at the Plaza that her father left her. It was dusty as she had mainly used to store her stolen valuable jewelry and artwork. Previously, she was content with the idea of living a humble life with Peter, but life had different plans for her.
After moving everything out of her, now, old apartment, Felicia found herself on her rooftop of the Plaza, finally alone with her thoughts. It was the first time she allowed herself to fully absorb the reality of the situation, the pain of heartbreak weighing heavily on her shoulders.
Painted tears streamed through Felicia’s Black Cat mask, leaving streaks of make-up along her face. In an instant, the Spider-Woman-in-training decided to revert to her previous life, purging herself of any trace of Spider-Man. Her tears blurred her vision as she gazed down the street at the Dolce and Gabbana store. A shift in her demeanor occurred as an idea suddenly sparked in her mind. Before she could put her plan into action, she goes back inside for her old bag of tricks, hidden away in the dusty confines of her home.
Across town, Peter wiped away his tears of laughter before reaching for his phone, which was charging on the table. "Oh, shit!"
"What's wrong, Tiger?" MJ inquired.
"I have a ton of Spider-Man alerts; I gotta run!" Peter replied, quickly grabbing his Spider-Man suit from his bag.
"Hurry back, lover," MJ said with a gleam in her eye as she pressed a kiss to Peter's lips before he pulled the mask down and swung out of the window.
Felicia deftly twirled her vibranium baton in her hand as her eyes locked onto her next target. With a powerful swing, she shattered the glass protecting the precious jewelry. A triumphant scream escaped her lips as the gems and trinkets lay exposed. This was her fifth shop of the night, and in each one, she left his clothes and a deliberate and enigmatic message for New York's beloved Spider-Man. 
Dolce and Gabbana: “CHEATER” 
Tiffany and Co: “TRAITOR”
Gucci: “FUCK YOU”
Chanel: “LIAR”
Versace: “ROT IN HELL, SPIDER-MAN”
Each message bore the distinctive signature of clawmarks and a cat sketch, a calling card only too familiar to the city's web-slinger. As Spider-Man arrived at the first scene, a heavy sense of dread engulfed him. 
"Did Black Cat make this for you, Spider-Man?" a cop inquired, eyeing the bold, black spray-painted words.
Spider-Man hesitated for a moment, his thoughts racing. "Are there more?"
The police officer nodded. "Yeah, several places around the upper east side have been broken into and tagged."
"Fuck!" Spider-Man cursed before swinging away in search of the next location. The night was a relentless cycle of pursuit, revealing message after message until he reached the last one. His frustration and anxiety grew with each discovery.
"FUCK!" he exclaimed once more, his voice filled with exasperation. He finally returned home to find his apartment nearly empty, all his belongings in a messy pile in the middle of the room.
Felicia stood before her floor-to-ceiling window, arms crossed, and gazed at the flashing police lights converging on the designer shops she had systematically destroyed. The ever-growing chaos in the city below, brought her a strange sense of peace. 
After Felicia had run out of tears, she stepped away from the window and set about the task of cleaning the dusty apartment. She hung up her stolen art, unpacked her belongings, and gradually transformed the space into her new home. It was a solemn process of letting go and starting anew, but it needed to happen, even if she’d spend half the night doing so. Once the daunting task was complete, Felicia crawled under the covers of her king-sized bed, tears streamed down her face, and she cried herself to sleep. 
Today…
As Felicia’s head rested on Miguel’s heart, she continued. “For the rest of the summer Peter and I were in an on-and-off relationship.” She cringed to herself. “He would keep trying to convince me that there was nothing between him and MJ. It was a painful cycle where I’d cried every night as I realized that I would never truly have his heart.”
“It’s not your fault, mí vida,” Miguel whispers, caressing her hair soothingly. 
“Looking back, I realize I shouldn't have ignored the glaring red flags. I was a fucking dumbass and kept going back to him. I genuinely believed that the same Peter that would have stopped the world for some ducklings was still buried in there. But now, he's still obsessed with MJ's approval while she's obsessed with the chase. I hope they're happy in their psychotic relationship." She spat out, frustration causing her to throw the newspaper across the room. 
Miguel presses dozens of kisses to Felica’s forehead to soothe her. 
“Thanks, Miggy.” She looks up and smiles at Miguel. She moves around so her legs straddle his lap, a knowing smirk drawing itself on her face. She leans into his lips, whispering, “I consider myself very lucky to have you,” and presses her lips against his, both of them smiling into it. 
“Is that so?” 
“Hmm” 
“And what is it about me that makes you feel lucky?”
Felicia takes a deep breath in before saying, “I love it when you throw me around.” 
Miguel bursts out laughing at the bold statement. “You- you do huh?”
“Don’t you dare make fun of me O’Hara we’re supposed to be having a nice moment!” She slaps his chest to scold him. 
Miguel catches his breath still laughing. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry what- what else, please please continue baby.”
Felicia huffs before continuing. “I like how you’re a good leader. You think about everyone else before you do yourself.” Miguel nods for her to continue.
“And I don’t care what anybody else says, but I like how you have a scary, menacing walk. Where people look at you and are scared to approach you but I for one find it incredibly sexy.” Miguel’s smile fades into a stern expression, his tone changing.
“Who says what now?” 
Oops. “No one! Just rumors, anyways!” Felicia quickly diverts the subject, waving her hand in the air as if to wipe it away from memory.
“I like the way you look at me.” 
“And how do I look at you?”
Felicia smiles to herself about the answer, the heat rushing up to her cheeks. 
“C’mon tell me.” Miguel sits up more on the couch, hands now rubbing at her sides. 
“I like how you look at me like I’m your equal. Like I’m worthy in every way possible. Not someone who needs fixing, or needs to be changed. You look at me like a partner, not an enemy.” 
Miguel slowly nods his head, absorbing all the things that Felicia expressed to him. 
“I’m lucky to have you too sweetheart. You have no idea, how lucky.” Without giving her a chance for her to reply he immediately pulls her head in to kiss her deeply.  She melts into his arms, her heart racing as their kiss deepens. His words echo in her head, I’m lucky to have you. She feels so lucky to be in his arms, feeling safe and loved. She’d never felt such adoration before, not like this, especially with Peter. She wraps her arms around him, wishing for the moment to never end.
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Chapter 15
Taglist: @leahnicole1219 @oscarissac2099 @www-interludeshadow-com
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14
inspo by @whumppromptoftheday
[tw past trauma, scars, implied past torture]
"I know what I'm doing," Whumpee said firmly, leaving no room for argument. Caretaker sighed and nodded.
"Alright. Well... Take your shirt off, I guess. I'll grab the tech stuff in a moment."
Caretaker had no idea why Whumpee was so insistent on this. They could've found other volunteers, people who had documented experience with this sort of thing. There was no reason for Whumpee to want to step in and do it themself. No sane person would've, in their place.
When they turned back around with the wire in hand, their jaw dropped in the most disrespectful way possible. Whumpee's entire upper body was covered in scars. Whip marks, burns, cuts... There wasn't a square inch left unmarred.
Whumpee gave them an annoyed look, but they couldn't stop gawking. They'd never seen anything like this.
"We really don't have all day," they snapped eventually, and Caretaker dragged their gaze up to meet Whumpee's eyes.
"What– what happened–"
"Whumper happened."
The pieces finally fell into place in Caretaker's head. Of course Whumpee had been insistent. Of course Whumpee 'knew what they were doing'.
"Oh, for fuck's sake." Whumpee marched over and grabbed the box from Caretaker's hand, attempting to secure it to their body by themself. It helped snap Caretaker out of it; and now that they were paying a little more attention, it was clear that Whumpee was incredibly flustered, no matter how much they tried to act like the scars meant nothing to them.
"I'll do it," they said hastily, and Whumpee let go of the little device as they stepped closer. They stared past Caretaker at the wall, trying their best to hide their shame. Caretaker felt like the least they could do was play along, after having made a scene like that.
As soon as the wire was in place, Whumpee pulled their shirt back on. Caretaker didn't think they'd ever forget the sight.
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xoxomoonlightxoxo · 4 months
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P&C | Ch. 14: Mental Picture
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➪ Playlist (Spotify) l Series Masterlist
Feeling the sun rays on my skin I shift my body under the weight of Jungkook’s embrace. One hand on my waist, the other nestled under the silk pillows. With the duvet hanging off the bed, the heat from our bodies kept us warm as I tried to retrieve my leg which was intertwined with his. With each shift, his grip on my body tightened, displeased at the idea of having space between us. Inches away from his chest I rest my forehead on the soft skin before looking up at his puffy eyes. 
“Morning gorgeous,” Jungkook murmurs, pulling me up onto his thighs as his back presses on the headboard. 
“Morning Jungkook,” I say softly, placing my hands on his lower abdomen. Leaning in closer, he intertwines his fingers with mine, giving each a soft kiss. 
“You know, I had a dream about you,” he whispers into the kiss. 
“Oh? What was I doing?” I ask, noticing a grin forming on his face. Shaking his head slightly, he tucks some strands of hair behind my ear before caressing my face with the back of his hand. 
“I wish I could say, but you would kill me so I’ll just keep replaying it in my head,” he says softly, leaning his head back, eyes closed, focused on the dirty reminiscence.   
“Keep dreaming, big guy,” I scoff, slapping his forearm before laughing at his teasing grin. “I won’t let you have me so easily,” I whisper into his ear, as his hands reach up my tank top, caressing the soft skin under my bra. Pulling my body closer, his head nestles into my chest, breathing in the sweet scent of my skin. 
“I’ll wait for you,” he whispers, looking up at my face, gaze focused on my lips.  
--
Arriving back at the dorm after Jungkook helped bring in the last of my bags, I plop on the couch, checking the plethora of emails from my professors regarding upcoming assignments. My mind was on autopilot mode this whole break, so the reality of going back to school has yet to hit me. My thoughts, however, are interrupted by the sudden buzzing of my phone, as I look at the message notification at the top. 
Jungkook: Check your mailbox after you get some rest ;) 
Mira: Should I be scared? 
Jungkook: You'll see. I think you'll like it, I liked it. 
A soft smile forms on my face as I succumb to the curiosity, grabbing my keys and ID before locking the door behind me. 
“1289 …” I whisper softly, scanning the room for my mailbox number, until finally spotting it at the top left corner. Standing on my tippy-toes, my arms extend to reach the brown box at the back. Looking for any hints of what's inside, I can't wait to get back to the dorm before opening the package, which was a mistake as a quiet gasp escapes my mouth. 
Oh, my God. 
Scanning my surroundings, I pull the matching set of a red lacey bra and panties out of the box filled with pink feathers. Eyes wide, I hurry to stuff everything back before a group of girls passes by. 
Mira: Are you insane? 
Jungkook: Do you like it?
Mira: Jungkook, why am I looking at a pair of undergarments? 
Jungkook: I couldn't resist it. After seeing you in that black bra, that's all I thought about. You can thank me later ;) 
Mira: There will be no later because I'll just die from embarrassment. 
Jungkook: Can I see you in them before you die though? If I can't have you, I at least, deserve one last mental picture. 
Mira: I hope you trip down the stairs, xoxo
--
“Flip-flops!” Tae shouts across the lecture hall, waving his hands towards the saved seat next to him. Today, our cohort groups and placements will be revealed so the room is fuller than usual. There's a commotion of feelings as the ambience intensifies, some people are excited while others are biting their nails. I've been mentally preparing myself for this day since receiving my acceptance letter, so all the nervous jitters have already passed. Nonetheless, I hesitate to open the envelope in front of me as Tae gives me a quick nod of reassurance. 
“I got 3, what does that mean?” I exclaim, waiting for Tae's reaction. 
“Fuck yeah, I also got 3! Nursing buddies for real,” he chuckles, his boxy smile on full display. Leaning in for a hug, we congratulate each other, sending a quick victory selfie to the group chat. Looking up at the big screen, the professor explains the placement process which was based on a numbering system. Each value corresponded to a specific hospital department, with 3 being the labour and delivery unit.  
“At least we didn't get ICU first, I heard that one is an absolute killer,” a boy behind us exclaims, reaching for a handshake as Tae follows through.
“I'm Hanbin, nice to meet you,” he says softly before turning his gaze toward me. 
“Nice to meet you too, I'm Mira and this is Tae. Are you also in cohort 3?” I ask, retrieving my hand. He nods a quick yes, as the professor finishes up his speech and dismisses the class. 
Waving Hanbin goodbye, Tae and I walk towards our usual coffee shop before indulging in the daily debrief. 
--
Grabbing an Americano and a blueberry muffin to go, I decided to visit the Kinesiology building as Tae had to leave for another club meeting. Checking Jungkook's schedule, he should have a study block right now so I go straight to the main floor library. Saying hi to the front desk lady, I scan the room for a familiar face. Recognizing his broad shoulders I sneak behind Jungkook, placing the treats in front of him as he lets out a soft gasp. 
“Peaches, what are you doing here?” he says softly, pulling my figure closer to his lap. Thankfully, we were sitting in a partially closed-off booth so the chances of people seeing us were slim. 
“Wanted to bring you some brain fuel,” I reply, wrapping my hands around his neck as his gaze lowers to my lips. 
“You didn't have to, but thank you,” he whispers into my ear before giving it a quick peck. Tightening his grip on my waist as I take off my jacket his gaze is focused on my exposed shoulders. 
“What are you studying?” I quickly ask, interrupting the thoughts in his head. 
“Anatomy, I have to memorize the whole skeletal system by tomorrow,” he says with a sigh, taking a sip of the Americano. 
“Do you need help? Tae and I are taking physiology right now,” I exclaim, as Jungkook analyzes the excitement on my face. 
“Yes, please,” he says softly, his bunny teeth peeking through the smile. With a nod, I begin going through his slides, emphasizing the most important structures. That is until Jungkook pulls my face towards him, gaze focused on the panic in my eyes. 
“Peaches, I'm more of a visual learner, do you mind?” he whispers, nibbling on his lip rings as I furrow my brows at the request. Scanning the room I scavenge for possible props, before thinking of the best idea that would satisfy his needs. 
“Challenge accepted,” I reply with a teasing grin, before getting comfortable on his thighs as his grip on my form tightens. Tracing his collarbone, I lean closer, leaving a row of soft kisses on his skin. 
“This is your clavicle,” I whisper into the kiss, looking up at his closed eyes, before gliding my hands up to his neck. 
“This is your sternocleidomastoid muscle,” a soft whimper escapes his parted lips as I leave purple hues on his warm skin. I can tell he's enjoying this, as much as he can tell that I’m enjoying it too. Moving my face up with his thumb and index finger, our eyes meet again, lips inches away from each other. The tension building up, I can feel my stomach turn into a not as the dent under his jeans begins to poke. Straddling his thighs, Jungkook lets out a soft hiss from the sensitivity. 
“Baby, you have to stop moving,” he whispers, gaze fazed and heavy. 
“What do you mean?” I tease with a soft smile. The innocent act was quickly scratched by the sudden feel of Jungkook’s breath on my neck as he inches closer. 
“Keep it up and the whole library will hear your pretty moans,” he whispers into my ear, before diving into a needy kiss. 
“You wouldn’t dare,” I whisper back, flinching at the feel of his hands under my shirt. Caressing my back, he stops at the familiar feel of the fabric that reminds him of his gift. 
“So you did like it,” he grins, gaze lowered on the red lace peeking through my shirt. 
“I would never pass on free clothes,” I grin back, letting out a teasing chuckle, as his head dives under my shirt to examine the beauty up close. 
“Jungkook!” I exclaim, slapping his forearm before hiding his form under my coat as a group of students pass by our booth. Eyes sealed shut I pray that they were too busy talking to notice the shameless act. 
“What? I was getting my mental picture,” he chuckles, raising his head under the coat before pulling our bodies closer into a warm embrace. 
Jungkook although needy, is very respectful of my boundaries. We haven’t done anything big that could change the trajectory of our ‘relationship’ despite feeling the obvious tension between us whenever an opportunity arises. I guess the blame is on my fear of commitment as I can’t bear the idea of losing him if something does go wrong. So, instead, I choose to keep everything at a safe distance, before it all blows up. 
“I can keep it in my pants, Mira,” Jungkook says nonchalantly as we walk towards my dormitory. It's as if he could hear the thoughts in my head and feel the way they haunt me. Eyes focused on the way my head hangs, he reaches for my arm before pulling me into his chest. 
“I said I’ll wait for you, didn’t I?” he whispers with a soft smile, cupping my face. 
“I want you, not your body. No, no wait let me rephrase.” he chuckles at the bold statement, before attempting another try, caressing my face with the back of his hand. 
“I want your body but not as much as I need you,” he finally lets out. I can’t help but bury my face into his coat as the flush rises up my cheeks. It’s clear that his intentions are genuine and pure, and yet, I can’t help but feel the not in my stomach intensify. Looking up at his eyes I lean in on my tippy toes, placing a soft kiss on his lips, before wishing him goodnight.
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soft-bellied-tannies · 5 months
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Full, Fuller, Fullest
It's the last day of Chubtober! I can't believe it went by already.
For the last day, I am posting a fic I have been working on for a while and love quite a bit. It fits with fatguarddog's prompt "surprise stuffing" and there are multiple surprises here for both partners. Plus, I promise I will eventually finish the 20 days of Chub: Jikook Edition - this is post #14 so I am getting closer!
I had a great time posting this month and I hope you all enjoyed it! :) Thank you for all the supportive comments and encouraging words, reposts and likes, all the engagement really helped me stay consistent and have a great time with it!
---
Read here or on AO3!
Jimin paused mid-bite as he realized Jungkook was staring at him from the entryway of their living room. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, don’t mind me,” Jungkook said as he shook his head with an endearing expression. He walked over to the couch and sat next to his boyfriend.
With a skeptical look, Jimin continued eating - working through the last slice of his pizza as he knew that was his boyfriend’s focus. He chased it with what was left in his can of Coke before leaning back into the couch with a sigh.
Jungkook’s hand snuck over to his bloated stomach, giving it a little curious press. Jimin was slowly creeping toward potbelly territory and Jungkook couldn’t keep his eyes or hands off of it.
Jimin felt a wave of satisfaction knowing he could get his partner so worked up. They had only been trying this out over the past year, but lately, he had really been pushing himself to get this reaction.
“I’ve never seen you eat this much, baby,” Jungkook said softly, leaning in to place kisses along his boyfriend’s jaw.
Jimin smirked and pushed his belly farther into Jungkook’s hand. “You want to see me eat a little more?”
Jungkook’s head snapped up and he looked at Jimin with an interested smile. “Of course.”
“There’s still ice cream cake in the freezer from your birthday,” Jimin said suggestively, moving his hands to button his pants with the impending addition to his midsection.
Jungkook hopped up and quickly made his way to the kitchen. He was back in less than a minute with the cake box and a spoon, sitting beside Jimin as he already was carving out the first bite.
Holding the spoon up to Jimin’s lips, Jungkook watched excitedly as his boyfriend accepted the bite.
As he fed Jimin bite after bite, Jungkook could barely contain himself. Every time he thought Jimin was going to tap out, his boyfriend opened his mouth for the next bite.
After what would have been two full slices of ice cream cake, Jimin finally asked him to stop.
“Ah, I think I might have overdone it…” Jimin mumbled as he reclined back, panting a bit as his hands rested on his stuffed belly.
Jungkook was in awe, ready to worship every inch of Jimin’s body. His hands worked under Jimin’s tight shirt as he gave him a gentle belly rub.
“You are incredible,” he whispered, followed by a kiss.
Jimin smiled and kissed him again. “Feels incredible, Gguk.”
Jungkook spread his hands over Jimin’s belly again, squeezing slightly and bringing a moan from his boyfriend’s lips. “Yes, it does, baby. Absolutely incredible.”
Jimin rolled onto his side and tucked his face into the pillow, trying to hide from the morning light. They had not gone to bed until late into the morning after their little session the night before and Jimin was exhausted. He hadn’t even remembered going to sleep. 
Not only was Jungkook motivated after seeing him eat so much, but the state of his stomach was really a sight. Since exploring their shared kink, they had not yet entered the realm of actual stuffings and his gain was only forty pounds or so. It had all been very casual with Jimin eating more calorie-dense foods or snacking throughout the day along with his meals.  
With no intention of eating as much as he did last night, Jimin decided in the heat of the moment that he wanted to go for it. He had genuinely been hungry before dinner, starved really since he had to skip a full lunch for a work meeting. It truly was a surprise to himself just as much as Jungkook to stuff himself beyond full. 
His goal had been to finish a whole pizza for himself and thought that would put him near his capacity. Unexpectedly, he ate it easily with a few sodas to help wash it down. He could’ve stopped there and been perfectly happy about it, but something about the way Jungkook reacted made Jimin want more.
Again, without Jungkook feeding him, more would have never been nearly a third of the ice cream cake from their freezer. More would have probably been a few cookies from the pack in the pantry, but Jimin was not complaining about how their night went in the slightest. 
Eating that much had honestly felt great and the absolute body worship from his partner that followed was even better. Jimin was starting to question why they hadn’t tried it sooner. 
Jimin opened his eyes and found that he was alone in bed which was surprising since Jungkook was always the one who slept in longer after their long nights. He heard distant sounds in the kitchen and his confusion only grew when he realized that Jungkook was likely cooking breakfast. 
He wasn’t even sure if he was actually hungry yet and that was only further emphasized when Jimin finally pulled the covers back and sat up. Even after a few rounds with Jungkook last night, he was still feeling full when he drifted off to sleep and he was still looking full this morning. 
Jimin had never been this bloated in his entire life. His stomach was just as rounded below his cotton shirt as it was last night after Jungkook cleaned him up and dressed him for bed, maybe even more now as it was settled lower from digesting it all. 
When he first started gaining, it felt like every pound went directly to his lower half. His ass and thighs still filled out more than anything else. While Jimin certainly didn’t have the flat plane of his stomach anymore, it was really just an added layer of softness. 
But this morning, Jimin was sporting a genuine potbelly on full display and he was loving it. He knew that after getting up and moving around, the bloating would work its way out, but he was going to enjoy the feeling for now. 
Little did Jimin know, Jungkook had a surprise of his own after their eventful night. He had always thought the part of the kink that did it for him was just Jimin’s body. The effects of his eating making him softer over time was what Jungkook fixated on, but last night changed some things for him. 
Seeing the immediate effects of Jimin pushing his stomach capacity, feeding him bite after bite himself, hearing the sounds from his partner not only while he ate but also while they made love - Jungkook realized he had been limiting their potential and enjoyment.
That is the exact reason why Jungkook was cooking all of Jimin’s favorite breakfast foods. He could see how much Jimin loved every part of their night and they were officially on a week-long staycation for Jungkook’s birthday so he made a plan. 
Feed Jimin as much as he was willing to eat for the next few days. 
It was around their birthdays last year when they finally discussed trying it out so it only felt right to take another new step. They had always agreed that the minute either one of them felt uncomfortable, they would back out, but they were never going to find out how far they wanted to go if they didn’t try.
The minute Jimin stepped into the kitchen, Jungkook knew he made the right decision. 
Rather than high-waisted leggings or bike shorts that he liked to wear around the house, Jimin had chosen a pair of Jungkook’s sweatpants that hugged his soft hips and thighs, tucking the waistband below his stomach - only emphasizing the roundness of his bloated middle. 
Jimin had kept Jungkook’s black oversized t-shirt on, but with each step, the shirt bunched up on his hips. The shirt slowly tucked itself into his low waistband as he walked, making his belly even more evident. 
Jungkook crossed the kitchen and couldn’t resist getting his hands on Jimin. He slowly ran his hands along Jimin’s sides from mid-thigh up to his chest and back down. “Good morning, baby.” 
“Good morning,” Jimin whispered in response before leaning in for a kiss. “What’s got you up so early? I thought you would have been sleeping for at least a few more hours.” 
“Well…that is something I want to talk to you about,” Jungkook said, taking Jimin’s hand and leading him to their dining room table which held a nice spread - a bowl of fruit, a few different street toasts stacked with egg, ham, and vegetables, some rice and kimchi, and the most surprising for Jimin, a stack of American-style pancakes.
Jimin’s eyes grew a little wider as he switched his focus between the table and Jungkook. “What’s the special occasion, love? I think I barely have more room from last night as it is,” Jimin joked as he ran his hand over his stomach. 
Something about Jimin acknowledging his body pushed Jungkook to lay out all of his feelings. He explained how amazing last night had been for him and that he hoped the same went for Jimin, told Jimin how incredible he looked and how he wanted to see that belly on him all the time, admitted that he really loved feeding Jimin last night and wanted to do it more. 
Jungkook felt at ease the more he talked as he watched the recognition and excitement build in Jimin’s eyes. He hadn’t expected Jimin to disagree, knowing that his partner would have stopped them last night if he grew uncomfortable. 
“So, you are going to start making my breakfast? Is that what this is all about?” Jimin asked lightly, giggling as he motioned to the food across their table. 
“Oh, not quite. I have, uh…a proposition, maybe, is the right word for this,” Jungkook answered, trying to think of the best way to present his request. 
Jimin nodded with a small smile, seeing some of Jungkook’s nerves return. “I’m all ears, Ggukie.” 
Jungkook took a deep breath and figured the worst thing Jimin could say was no. “I was thinking…hoping, really, that we could keep going.” 
“Keep going?”
“Sorry, I’m not explaining this well. Last night was amazing.” 
Jimin nodded again, his smile growing a little more. “Yeah, it was. I felt great, still feeling great this morning actually.” 
Jungkook felt motivated by that answer. “So, we are officially on our little staycation for our birthdays. We have all week off and we don’t really have to go anywhere or do anything, right?” 
“Right, that’s what you wanted for your birthday and I have no intention of changing that. I want you to have exactly what you want, love,” Jimin responded confidently, still unsure of what Jungkook was proposing. 
“Well, by keep going, I was thinking that we treat each meal like dinner and dessert last night. Maybe for the next day or two, I just keep feeding you. Keep you nice and full,” Jungkook explained, his voice dropping lower as he talked and his hands massaging Jimin’s sides. “See if we can make this cute little belly a bit bigger, hmm?” 
Jimin inhaled sharply as arousal shot through him like a hot knife. Between Jungkook’s wandering hands and enticing idea, he couldn’t stop himself from pulling his partner in for an intense kiss that devolved into a brief yet vigorous make-out session in the middle of the kitchen. 
“Yes, fuck, please, baby…feed me for as long as you want,” Jimin replied, his voice dropping low and raspy as he panted in between kisses. 
Jungkook didn’t have a chance of holding himself back now. He managed to break the kiss long enough to lead Jimin to his usual seat at their table and immediately started filling his plate. 
Even though he was certain that he wasn’t going to eat much after his hefty dinner last night, the wave of hunger that ran through Jimin after Jungkook’s enticing offer could only be defined as ravenous. 
Jimin accepted one of the breakfast sandwiches and started eating it while Jungkook prepared his pancakes with more butter and syrup than Jimin would ever normally consider appropriate. 
The rest of his breakfast went by in a blur. 
Jimin knew that Jungkook had eaten some of the food he prepared, but he had no idea how much either of them truly ate. He felt as though the excitement for the next few days made him block everything else out and he simply ate anything Jungkook put in front of him.
It wasn’t until the last pancake that Jimin felt his body push back. That familiar feeling came creeping back from last night as he tested the limits of his stomach capacity. His belly was firm as he packed every available space with Jungkook’s delicious breakfast. 
“Ggukie?” Jimin finally asked the first word he had spoken since they sat down to eat. 
Jungkook had to shake himself from his stupor, having spent the past twenty minutes just watching his partner eat more than he ever expected Jimin to eat given the fact that he was still quite bloated. 
“Yeah, baby? You okay?” 
Jimin let out a long breath and leaned back into his chair to give his stomach some more room to expand. He rested his hands on the crest of his belly, lightly massaging the tautness of his skin. “Mhmm, just…can you feed me the rest? Please?” 
The added pout was truly unnecessary considering the fact that Jungkook was barely holding himself together as it was. He would’ve given Jimin just about anything he asked for at that moment. “Of course, Min. I’d love to, actually.” 
Although he felt stuffed full, Jimin’s stomach always somehow found more room when Jungkook was feeding him. He polished off the last pancake quickly and felt thoroughly well-fed. His body wasn’t putting up quite the fight it was the night before, but Jimin suspected that his stomach had gained a little more capacity over his past two meals. 
Before he even had time to process the fact that he ate a majority of their large breakfast spread, Jimin was on his feet and being led to the living room. Their soft couch seemed much more inviting than the dining room chair he was trying to get comfortable on. 
Jungkook sat him down, gave him the remote and a throw blanket, kissed his forehead, and said he would be back. Even though it was Jungkook’s birthday week, Jimin was feeling pretty spoiled, but he also was well aware of how much satisfaction his partner was already getting from his little surprise. 
Jimin pulled up the latest drama they were watching and let the episode load while he pulled up the Notes app on his phone. Jungkook’s reaction had given Jimin an idea of his own which was tracking everything he ate throughout the next few days. 
He was thankful to his past self for randomly deciding to jump on the scale after his shower yesterday morning, typing in his most recent weight before starting to list the contents of both his meals so far. 
Seeing it all laid out on the screen and knowing that was technically two meals so far, Jimin was impressed with himself and felt pretty turned on by how much Jungkook had gotten him to eat. He wasn’t interested in knowing the exact calorie count as he really did not want to start fixating on numbers rather than enjoying himself, but even just estimating in his head was enough to get Jimin worked up. 
Hearing footsteps headed his way, Jimin locked his phone and situated the blanket on his lap, trying his best to keep his hands off himself. His eyes widened when he saw that Jungkook had not returned empty-handed. 
While he was a bit thankful for his water cup, Jimin felt his stomach tense up as his partner handed him a huge glass of milk filled nearly to the top. He simply stared at it in his hand as Jungkook took a seat next to him. 
“Figured you would need something to wash down all the sugar from those pancakes, baby,” Jungkook said, completely nonchalant as he grabbed the remote and pressed play on their episode. 
As if muscle memory took over, Jimin brought the glass to his lips and took a large sip. He had to admit, it was cold and refreshing compared to the heavy meal he had barely started digesting yet. 
Jungkook’s arm slid around his shoulders as he genuinely watched the show, not even acknowledging Jimin’s reaction. He knew that it wouldn’t take much to persuade his partner to eat or drink more right now so he just let Jimin take his time with it. 
However, Jungkook hadn’t expected Jimin to have another surprise of his own. He saw him lift the glass back to his lips out of the corner of his eye, but after a moment, Jungkook didn’t see him lower it. 
Jimin felt his stomach protest almost immediately as he began to chug the rest of the milk. He felt a cramping sensation as soon as his full belly was hit with the wave of cold dairy. 
Either seeing or hearing his discomfort, Jungkook’s hand found the crest of Jimin’s bloated middle and worked in slow circles to help alleviate the pressure. And to his credit, Jimin did not stop until he finished every last drop. 
Taking the glass from him, Jungkook returned a little firmer with his massage as Jimin collapsed back into the couch cushions. He groaned a few times when Jungkook hit a sensitive spot, but he otherwise enjoyed the help settling his now overly full stomach. 
“You know, as impressive as that was, I was thinking you were going to sip on that for a while,” Jungkook said lightly, almost teasing as Jimin’s face scrunched in discomfort after his fingers dug a little deeper into his side. 
Jimin let out a laugh and turned his head, pouting his lips for a kiss. “I guess your enthusiasm about all of this has me extra motivated.” 
Jungkook knew that Jimin was teasing him in return, but he couldn’t help the feeling of attraction for his partner and the excitement for this new stage of their dynamic. It was like they had discovered their enjoyment for this all over again. 
“That’s great, baby, but we do have a few more days of this so maybe pace yourself, hmm?” 
Jimin felt equally aroused and challenged by Jungkook’s words. They were only two meals into their days-long stuffing session and Jimin was already a horny mess. Bloated and a little uncomfortable at the moment, but horny as hell. 
Jungkook slipped his hands under his shirt which had considerably less room following his hefty first meal of the day and started to tap his fingers along his taut skin, enjoying the thud that resonated through Jimin’s swollen belly. 
An appreciative hum came from Jimin, enjoying his partner’s warm hands alleviating some of his discomfort. He asked for his water cup in hopes that sipping on it would help encourage his meal to begin digesting. 
What Jimin hadn’t expected was Jungkook filling his tumbler with Coke. 
Jimin took a sip and felt his stomach immediately reject the bubbly sensation. Sugar and carbonation on top of cold dairy on top of his heavy breakfast brought some gurgling and groaning sounds from his belly. 
It felt like nothing would move down at that point, a painful pocket of air developing at the crest of his tight stomach. 
“You tricked me,” Jimin said with a pout, knowing that he didn’t even need the pout to convince Jungkook for a massage. 
After stealing a quick kiss, Jungkook started to push slowly but more firmly to help Jimin get some relief. The pressure from his fingers finally dislodged the air resulting in a deep, unexpected belch bubbling up and out of Jimin’s chest. 
Jimin thought that the heat of embarrassment on his cheeks was going to be permanent soon with how much he had been blushing that morning. He mumbled ‘excuse me’ into his chest as he looked down and around, finding anywhere else to look except his partner. 
Jungkook laughed quietly, partially at Jimin’s reaction but also to hide his own embarrassment from the fact that he was feeling way more turned on than expected at his partner burping from a full stomach. 
This was yet another entirely new side of their dynamic and Jungkook was loving every minute of it. 
“Feel better?” 
Finally looking up and hoping the color on his cheeks had simmered down, Jimin nodded with a little laugh of his own. “Yeah, feels a lot better with the air out, like I actually have a bit of space back in there.” 
Jungkook’s hands stilled from their spot on Jimin’s distended belly. “More room you say?” 
“Take it easy, you menace. Let me breathe,” Jimin joked as he laid his head back on the couch, hoping it would encourage Jungkook to continue his movement. 
Jungkook brought his hands out from under Jimin’s shirt, much to his partner’s disappointment. He brought the straw back to Jimin’s lips with a smirk. “At least finish your Coke, baby.” 
Jimin didn’t put up a fight, taking the straw flirtatiously between his teeth and actually sipping this time, knowing his stomach couldn’t take it all at once. The relief was short-lived as that pocket of air started to refill rather than move down to digest. 
Before he could even complain about it again, Jungkook got more enthusiastic with his massage as if he could see the discomfort on Jimin’s face. The more intentional belly rub dislodged the air again, bringing more short but rumbling burps from his throat. 
The embarrassment seemed to wear off quickly as Jimin could see how it only encouraged Jungkook to continue, even dropping a few kisses to Jimin’s swollen middle. He simply excused himself or tried to hide the sound in his fist. 
Ten minutes later, Jungkook’s dedicated massage finally relieved the intense bloat at the top of Jimin’s stomach, physically feeling the shift as he relaxed further into the couch. Letting out a resounding moan, the relief mixed with the arousal made Jimin feel as though his body was moving through molasses. 
Jimin didn’t even flinch when Jungkook lifted his shirt and began laying open-mouthed kisses and loving nips along his taut skin. The moans only continued as Jimin’s hands found a home in Jungkook’s hair, encouraging him to continue his thorough treatment. 
One of Jungkook’s strong hands moved up his stomach and around his back, turning him and coaxing him onto his side. The second Jimin began leaning, a pinch along his side and a loud gurgling sound started low in his belly. 
“Ah, hang on, Gguk,” Jimin gasped, straightening back up and reclining back into his original position against the cushions. “Hurts.” 
Jungkook immediately stopped and went back to his tender motions. “What do you need, Min?” 
Jimin closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths as the cramping stopped. “Just this, just your hands, please.” 
“You always can have that, baby.” 
Jungkook brought his touch back to a gentle caress, still placing soft kisses occasionally along Jimin’s skin while his partner continued to breathe through his discomfort. 
The room was silent aside from Jimin’s breathing and the sound of Jungkook’s movements for nearly ten minutes. Just as Jungkook was about to sit back and check on Jimin, he heard a quiet snore as Jimin’s head fell to the side. 
Between his full stomach and Jungkook’s calming hands, Jimin dozed off within minutes. Jungkook decided to let him sleep in hopes that he would wake up ready to eat once again, planning to keep him snacking in between their meals as much as possible. 
The next day and a half passed by in a blur. Jimin wasn’t even certain that he processed the past two days and six or seven…possibly eight meals worth of food. Everything had become a cycle of sleeping and eating in bed or on the couch and neither of them were complaining. 
Jimin had just woken up on the third day of their arrangement, slowly becoming a week-long stuffing instead of a day or two, when Jungkook brought the tray of food to their bedroom. He needed to stop being surprised by the elaborate spreads his partner was preparing for him.
“We are doing breakfast in bed this morning, baby. Didn’t think you’d be ready to get up and moving this morning after our past few days,” Jungkook said in a teasing tone. 
Even though his cheeks were blushing from Jungkook’s words, Jimin couldn’t help but smile at the gesture, thanking his partner as he looked over the delicious food. Jungkook helped him get adjusted against the pillows into a comfortable position and set the tray over his lap, encouraging him to dig in. 
Jungkook couldn’t help but stare for a moment as the tray pushed into Jimin’s stomach each time he leaned forward for a bite. Near the end of the night before, it seemed that every bite was simply making Jimin’s belly more firm to the touch as he maxed out his capacity. 
This morning, however, it felt like every bite and sip Jimin had taken was more and more visible. The pattern of filling his stomach, letting it settle, and filling it right back up certainly was giving the desired effect. Jungkook couldn’t wait to get his hands back on Jimin, ready to give him belly rubs until his hands cramped up. 
For the next twenty minutes, the pair ate with one of their shows on in the background. Jimin praised Jungkook’s cooking a few times as he downed his bowl. 
Neither chose to acknowledge that Jimin had double the portion of stew and rice that Jungkook did or the fact that Jimin was likely going to finish first with his enthusiastic eating this morning. 
“Hungry, Min?” Jungkook asked, truly out of curiosity. 
Jimin grew warm at the implication as he sat back and rested his hand on the crest of his belly. “Um, yeah, I actually am pretty hungry this morning. Guess I’m getting used to eating a little more.” 
Jungkook smirked, feeling a little proud of his accomplishment seeing as he was the one keeping Jimin so well-fed. “Do you want seconds?” 
After rubbing his hand across his stomach and taking account of how full he was feeling, Jimin nodded. “Yes, please.” 
Jungkook couldn’t stop himself from leaning over and stealing a kiss at seeing how cute his partner was being, but he also decided to test the waters hearing the signature sweet tone Jimin takes on when he’s feeling a little submissive. “Good boy.” 
Jimin made a little sound of surprise, knowing that he was yet again growing red from embarrassment. He was quiet as he watched Jungkook take the tray back to the kitchen, preparing himself for another long day of feeling full and spoiled based on his partner’s eager attitude. 
The second portion Jungkook set in front of him looked bigger than the first which had been bigger than Jimin’s typical serving size to begin with. Even though he knew it would go down slower than the first round, Jimin actually felt like he had quite a bit of room left. 
He had clearly started to train his stomach to take more and more because Jimin always enjoyed his food, but he had never been able to eat so much before. 
Jimin savored each bite, enjoying the flavors and textures of the food. The warmth in his belly grew with every mouthful, and he marveled at the fact that he could accommodate so much more than usual. Jungkook watched him with a mix of delight and desire, noting the subtle changes in Jimin's expressions as he indulged in the generous servings.
As he finished his second helping, Jungkook couldn't help but notice the satisfied look on his partner's face. Jimin seemed completely happy and content, a mood Jungkok wanted to keep on his face forever. 
Jungkook should have learned to stop underestimating Jimin’s appetite this week as his brows raised as he watched his partner scrape the last few bites from the bottom of the bowl. He truly thought Jimin would have tapped out with the second, larger bowl yet his partner ate it with ease. 
The other thing Jungkook couldn’t stop staring at was the fact that Jimin’s belly was now folding against the edge of the tray consistently instead of just when he leaned forward. His two substantial servings of breakfast had thoroughly restored his full belly. 
Seeing Jimin already melting back into the pillows with a hand attempting to relieve some pressure helped Jungkook decide to keep his partner stuffed in bed all day long, not even venturing to the couch.
With a gentle massage and loving whispers, Jungkook had Jimin dozing for the rest of the morning. The only movement was a single bathroom trip for Jimin and Jungkook’s run to the kitchen about an hour after breakfast for the second cheeseball container of the week. 
The afterthought to grab an extra container at the store paid off for Jungkook considering that on top of Jimin’s three meals that day, he managed to feed his partner the entire second container throughout the day. 
Between the already hefty meals, the cheesy and salty snack mixed with quite a bit of Coke and Sprite gave Jimin the most satisfying bloated belly so far.
Day three really seemed to unlock Jimin’s inner glutton; his appetite remained voracious for the rest of the week defying the odds of his consistently filled stomach.
By the following Friday night, officially one week of near-constant eating for Jimin, the couple was working through their last meal so Jimin had the weekend to recover. 
However, just because it was the last meal of their incredible week, Jungkook was not going easy by any means. 
“One more bite, baby. You can do it,” Jungkook encouraged, one hand holding another bite to his partner’s lips with the other massaging his bloated middle. 
Jimin sighed and rolled his eyes, resting his hand on top of his boyfriend’s on his stomach. “Ggukie, you’ve been saying ‘one more bite’ for the last four bites.” 
Jungkook leaned in and kissed the pout on Jimin’s lips. “And you’ve finished every bite so clearly I was right,” he replied with a smirk. 
“You’re ridiculous,” Jimin mumbled as his cheeks turned red, not actually upset in the slightest but actually getting very full...yet again.  
“And you are adorable,” Jungkook said, planting another kiss on his partner’s lips before following it with the next bite. He wasn’t going to stop until Jimin said so. 
Jimin ducked his head as the blush spread to his ears, but he still opened his mouth to what Jungkook was offering him. He had very much slowed down throughout the massive dinner and was honestly surprised that he was able to keep eating. 
That one, however, may have genuinely been the last bite.
After a heavy swallow, Jimin attempted to take a deep breath and felt that familiar pinch in his side. He grimaced and brought a hand up to apply some counterpressure against his diaphragm.  
“I don’t know if I can eat anymore, love. I can barely breathe at this point.” 
Jungkook had to contain himself once again, hearing those words many times that week but never losing their effect. 
If Jimin wasn’t stuffed to the brim and nearing the point of cramping, Jungkook would have absolutely had his way with him. 
The only thing he would have changed about the week was more opportunities to fully show Jimin his appreciation for his body, but his partner deserved all the tender massages and sweet kisses he received and Jungkook would gladly worship Jimin’s body in any way he could for his partner to be comfortable. 
They had more than enjoyed themselves and they had never been more attracted to each other so no matter what, the week was beyond successful.
Jungkook admired Jimin’s beauty as his partner relaxed into the cushions of their couch in pure contentment. His breathing was a little labored and he was directing Jungkook’s hands to certain places to relieve pressure, but overall, Jimin had never looked happier. 
However, Jungkook did have one particular question in mind that he just couldn’t help himself from pondering aloud. 
“I wonder how much you gained this week. We went a little crazy.” 
Jimin looked over at him with a bit of a mischievous smile. “I mean, I did weigh myself Friday morning after my shower.”
Jungkook snapped his head toward Jimin, probably with a bit too much excitement, but he couldn’t contain himself. Considering Jimin’s big dinner on Friday night had started it all, that was as close as they were going to get to measuring how productive their week had been. 
“Would you be interested in a trip to the bathroom? You know…just out of curiosity…” 
Jimin threw his head back with a laugh and held his hand out for Jungkook to help him off the couch. After spending an entire week bloated, Jimin wasn’t even sure what his empty stomach would look like anymore. 
It was going to take a few days before everything settled because right now, his distended and swollen belly looked and felt like he was hiding a leaden bowling ball under his shirt. 
Following behind him down the hallway, Jungkook smirked as Jimin still walked with an awkward waddle going on which he thought was adorable. He was also anticipating the number even though they tried to limit their fixation on that from the beginning since they were both pretty competitive, goal-driven people. 
That is truly why it had started so casually because they had both been afraid that setting goals and tracking things closely would have taken all the fun out of it, but now, they were enjoying themselves more than ever. Jungkook had felt like their past week had been a dream, spending so much uninterrupted quality and intimate time together was a gift for both of them. 
As Jimin pulled out the scale with his foot from under his vanity, he said, “So, I was 186 on Friday morning.” 
Jungkook made an appreciative sound and smacked Jimin’s ass, enjoying the slight jiggle it sent throughout his body. “Getting close to the fifty mark, baby.” 
Jimin rolled his eyes but nodded in agreement. Even though he always acted annoyed when Jungkook was open about his excitement for Jimin to gain fifty pounds, Jimin was looking forward to it just as much. He also was holding onto a little hope that all his weight gained from the last week would stick to his middle because he was getting a bit attached to his new belly. 
After waiting for the light to stop blinking and make the quiet ready sound, Jimin stepped on and anxiously stared at the rotating numbers as the scale thought about its reading. It finally beeped a second time and the numbers flashed up at them. 
“193…damn, baby,” Jungkook said softly, sounding surprised by the reading which Jimin had to admit, he was just as surprised. “So, that’s-”
“Seven pounds in a week,” Jimin finished his sentence, feeling equally shocked and proud of his own body. “That also means-”
“You hit fifty,” Jungkook now took his turn to finish Jimin’s thought. He brought his arms around Jimin’s waist, pulling him back off the scale and starting a gentle massage of Jimin’s midsection. “You are incredible, you know that? Look at you, my pretty baby.” 
Jimin felt his cheeks grow warm at the complete adoration in Jungkook’s voice. “It's because of you, Ggukie. I couldn’t do this or feel confident about this without you.” 
“Well, lucky for you, I don’t plan on going anywhere so I think you are stuck with me.”
Turning in his hold, Jimin wrapped his arms around Jungkook’s neck and leaned in for a long, slow kiss to show him exactly how he was feeling, unsure if words could do it justice. “If you are interested, I would like to say thank you.” 
Jungkook pulled away just enough to make eye contact with Jimin, seeing that his partner was already stepping back and guiding him toward their bed. After spending the last week in control, Jungkook was ready to let Jimin have the reigns - hoping that he would get the joy of his partner’s heavy weight on top of him for a while. 
As Jimin pushed him back onto their bed and crawled over the top of him, he saw the sparkle in Jungkook’s eye and knew some sort of comment was coming. “What’s that look for?” 
Jungkook brought his hands up and caressed Jimin’s thighs until they landed on his belly which was struggling to stay contained in his shirt. He softly sunk his fingers into his middle as far as Jimin’s still bloated and firm stomach would allow. 
“I was just thinking that maybe we could set one tiny goal. I know we don’t do that, but I think you may be on board.” 
Jimin raised his brow, trying to stop himself from swatting Jungkook’s hands away when his touch grew soft and ticklish. “I’ll consider it…”
Jungkook smiled and patted Jimin’s full belly a few times. “Well, it’s just that your birthday is about a month away now.” 
“Mhmm,” Jimin replied, knowing exactly where this was headed. 
“And I just thought, you know, if you could hit seven pounds in a week, surely you can hit seven in a month.” 
“Right…” 
Jungkook’s touch grew more assertive, pushing and prodigy into Jimin’s soft thighs enough to leave evidence of his fingertips. “So, really it’s a small goal, baby.” 
“Just say it, Ggukie. You know I’m going to say yes,” Jimin said as he leaned down, resting more of his weight on Jungkook’s body beneath him. 
“Two hundred by your birthday.” 
Jimin, even though he knew exactly what Jungkook was going to say, still lost his breath for a moment. Something about knowing that he was so close to that made him want it so badly. He simply nodded. 
Keeping himself lifted enough not to completely squash his still digesting belly in between them, Jimin got close to Jungkook’s ear and whispered, “What if I have a little goal of my own?” 
Jungkook gasped softly, feeling that they were entering an entirely new part of their relationship after their week of diving all in. “You can make whatever goals you want to make, baby,” he replied, just as quietly. 
Jimin couldn’t resist kissing him in appreciation before pulling away and feeling his own arousal building before even saying what he was thinking. 
“Well, we started last year and we’ve learned a lot. Since I gained fifty this year, I was wondering if, over the next year, you’ll help me double it.”
Jungkook stilled and felt like every inch of his body was on fire. He had never been so attracted to Jimin in his life. “Fuck…of course, I will, baby.”
As Jungkook started to bury himself underneath his partner’s shirt which had much less room than it did a week ago, Jimin seemed to remember his little project in his Notes app. 
“Oh wait, Ggukie, hang on,” Jimin said breathily, already overstimulated from a packed full stomach covered by his partner’s enthusiastic kisses and firm hands. 
Jungkook didn’t seem to hear him considering how focused he was on finally having his way with his partner’s incredible body. 
Jimin tapped the back of his head that was still tucked fully below the fabric of his shirt. “Come up for air, babe,” Jimin joked, “I need to show you something.” 
With one lingering kiss that would surely leave evidence of itself behind, Jungkook hovered over Jimin with a bit of fire in his eyes - ready to duck back under any second.
Holding up his phone with a bit of a taunting grin, Jimin encouraged Jungkook to lay beside him and whispered, “I forgot I had one more surprise for you, love.” 
“What?” Jungkook breathed out, uncertain of what more his partner could possibly provide him after their perfect week. 
Opening up his lengthy note, Jimin turned the screen toward Jungkook and replied, “Want to see everything I ate this week?” 
Jungkook’s eyes widened watching his partner scroll and scroll and scroll through a running list of each and every bite he fed Jimin. He pulled Jimin into his arms tighter and started covering his face in kisses before taking his partner’s phone to set it on the nightstand. 
“Let’s save that for later. We might need some reading material for your midnight snack,” Jungkook said into Jimin’s ear, leaving a trail of kisses that led him to the hem of his partner’s shirt to continue his original plan. 
Jimin let out a bright giggle that devolved into a gasping moan, fully on board with Jungkook’s plan to work off some of his big dinner so he had room for more later. 
As they devolved into celebrating Jimin’s recent gain, both of their heads were filled with ideas for the next year. It was certainly going to be fun. 
They also both decided that they needed to surprise each other more often. 
33 notes · View notes
cariantha · 1 year
Text
Accidental Valentine
Book: Open Heart, Book 1
Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Sawyer Brooks)
Rating: Teen
Warning: A little bit of sexual innuendo
Category: Fluff
Word count: 4K
Summary: It’s Valentine’s Day and Ethan and Sawyer get “stuck” spending the evening together.
A/N: This takes place after Miami but before the opera. Inspiration drawn from an episode of Grey's Anatomy, 🎶I Wanna Remember, 🎶My Body, and 🎶If Our Love is Wrong.
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February 14, 2023
4:30 p.m.
Ethan guided Sawyer through the dimly lit maze of construction materials in the new wing. Instinctively, his hand hovered just inches from her lower back. In the eerily quiet section of the hospital their pagers buzzed simultaneously. The unexpected noise startled Sawyer causing her to stumble as she stepped over a bundle of cables.
“Whoops!” 
“Are you–”
She felt the warmth of his palm as she found her footing and awkwardly laughed off the mishap. “I’m good.” 
Checking his pager, Ethan read the new notification and groaned. “And so it begins.”  
For the past two days, the National Weather Service warned of severe blizzard conditions. Local news stations ran stories showing empty grocery store shelves as Boston residents took precautions to shelter in place. Chief Emery reviewed emergency protocols and prepared hospital staff for the influx in the emergency department.
Offering his hand to help her step over the next hazard, Ethan cautioned, “Careful… watch your step. The page was for more doctors in the E.R., not patients.”
Sawyer took his hand but not before giving him a gentle side-punch for his jab about her clumsiness.  
Minutes later they waited for the elevator to arrive, and ever the gentleman, Ethan gestured for Sawyer to enter first as the steel doors slowly slid open. “After you.”
Once Ethan was safely across the threshold, Sawyer pushed the button for the first floor. Rolling back and forth on her heels, she waited for the digital number above the door to change. 
Ethan stood against the side wall, a small smile forming at the corner of his mouth as he admired her profile. 
“What?” she asked, feeling the burn of his gaze as she watched the floor number change from five to four.
“Nothing,” he answered, shifting his eyes to where her attention was still focused. 
Before the number changed to three, the elevator jerked violently coming to a sudden stop. The jolt caused them both to stumble backward a step or two. 
“Whoa!” Sawyer yelped, trying to keep her balance.
Ethan tried to reach for her but lost sight in the now pitch black box. “Are you alright?” he called out.
“Yeah. You?”
“Fine.”
Sawyer pulled out her phone to illuminate the small space helping Ethan locate the emergency call button.  
“It’s not working. The storm must have knocked out the power. The generators should kick on shortly. Do you have any service?” he asked, pulling out his own phone to check.
“No, I don’t have any bars.”
The emergency light above them finally buzzed to life, the soft glow just enough for them to make out each other’s faces. 
Ethan backed up to the wall and supported himself on the handrail. “I guess there’s not much else to do but wait it out.” 
5:30 p.m.
They had talked easily, not realizing how much time passed until Sawyer checked her phone.
“Ethan, it’s been an hour. Shouldn’t the generators have kicked on by now?”
“Yeah, they should have.”
Concern etched across his face as he thought about the patients who might be in danger, particularly Naveen. But before he could share those concerns, they were interrupted by some banging and a distant muffled voice.
“Hello? Can anyone hear me? Anyone there?”
“We can hear you!” Ethan responded with his deep booming voice. 
“This is Richard from Maintenance. Are you okay?”
“Yes, we’re fine.”
“Ethan? Ethan, is that you? It’s Harper. Who else is with you?”
“Yes. Dr. Brooks is here also. Why haven’t the generators kicked on yet?” he shouted back.
“They have. But the computer system controlling the elevators crashed. We haven’t been able to reboot it. We’ve called for a technician but the storm is making travel impossible right now,” Harper explained. 
Ethan shared a look with Sawyer.
“Make yourselves comfortable. It’s gonna be a while,” Richard hollered down. 
Sawyer sighed as she moved to sit on the floor, “Well, you heard him.”   
6:00 p.m.
Ethan had finally joined her on the floor, propped up against the opposite wall. 
“Okay, lightning round.”
Scrunching his face in confusion, “Pardon?” 
“I’m going to ask you five random questions and you can’t think. Just answer with the first thing that comes to mind. Are you ready?”
“Uh…”
“I said no thinking!” she pointed and laughed.
“Fine, go ahead,” he reluctantly consented. “Hopefully these will be better than the ones you asked when we tested the fMRI.”
“Let’s find out. First celebrity crush?”
Without missing a beat, “Jennifer Love Hewitt.”
Sawyer nodded in quiet approval. “And if you had the chance to hook up with her tonight, would you?”
Ethan squinted looking into her eyes. “No,” he stated confidently.
“Okay, hmm… What’s your favorite carb: bread, pasta, rice, or potatoes?”
“Pasta.” 
“When people stand up for a standing ovation, are you usually one of the earlier people to stand up or one of the later?”
“I rarely stand at all.”
“Yeah, that’s on brand,” she laughed thinking of what to ask next. “Say something cool.”
“That’s not a question.”
Sawyer rolled her eyes then her hand to encourage him to answer anyway.
“Pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis.”
Shaking her head with a giggle, “You’re such a nerd.”
Ethan shrugged. “Is it my turn now?”
“That was only four questions. I get one more.” 
“It was five… celebrity crush… if I’d hook up–”
“The hook-up question was merely a follow-up. It wasn’t an official question,” she argued with a smile. “Last one. Favorite type of muffin?”
He tilted his head slightly and raised his eyebrow with a questioning glare.
“What’s that look for?” she genuinely wondered until it suddenly dawned on her. “Oh my god! Stop! I wasn’t trying to bait you. It was an innocent question. When I stopped at Derry’s the other day, I thought it would be a nice treat for you and Naveen, but I didn’t know what flavors you liked.”
“Riiiiight.”
“It’s true!” she insisted, kicking his foot. “And given how quick your mind went there, I guess I have my answer.”
As their laughter died down, Ethan jutted out his chin to start his line of questioning. “If you had to choose another specialty, what would it be?” 
“Borrrrring,” she faked a yawn. “Is that really the best you’ve got?”
“What? It will tell me a lot about you. Especially if you say something absurd like ‘surgery.’”
“Emergency medicine.”
He pursed his lips together and nodded. “I can see that. Okay, um…what book are you reading at the moment?”
“Yours.” 
Ethan rolled his eyes.
“I’m serious. After the Platt case I wanted to read the Rethinking Symptoms chapter again. Remember that case? The horrible PITA you assigned me a while back.”
“I remember,” he quietly acknowledged, a twinge of guilt knotting his stomach. His only intention was to challenge her. Had he known just how abusive Platt had been to her and the nursing staff, he would have intervened much earlier. 
Sensing he got lost in thought, Sawyer urged him on. “Next question?”
“Hrm… What’s the most reckless thing you’ve ever done?” 
She looked down for a moment and bit her lower lip before hesitantly reconnecting with his curious eyes. “I made out with my boss on a work trip.” 
It was a half-truth. She couldn’t speak the whole truth. Because the truth was, allowing herself to fall for him was the most reckless thing she’d ever done.
And if Ethan was asked the same question, it wouldn’t be a prank from medical school, or a drunken one night stand, or even Patient X. It would be that he fell for his intern.
As the air thickened in the confined space, Ethan decided it was best to put an end to the game.
“Alright, I think that’s enough speed dating fun,” he concluded trying to keep his tone light.
“Wait, if that was speed dating, then I have to know… would you have wanted to see me again?”
“Probably not.”
Offended Sawyer threw her hands into the air, “WHAT?! Why not?” 
“Because my first impression of you would have been an ass-kissing, E.R. adrenaline junkie, with questionable morals. Need I say more?” he teased with a rare full smile. 
“Well, for what it’s worth, I would have wanted to see you again.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. You would have had me at ‘pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis.’ That was hot,” she winked.
7:00 p.m.
GRRRRRRRRRR.
“Hungry?” he asked.
Embarrassed, Sawyer clutched her stomach with her hands, “You have no idea what I’d give for a cheeseburger and fries right now.” 
“When was the last time you ate today?”
“I shared a late breakfast with Naveen.”
Ethan shook his head silently admonishing her as he shoved his hand into his coat pocket. He could hardly lecture her though. He was about to hand her the silver-wrapped candy bar that he purchased from the vending machine in lieu of taking his own lunch break earlier. “Here,” he politely offered.
Taking advantage of the opportunity, she moved to sit at his side, thanking him for the sugary sustenance. As she started to peel back the wrapper there was another rumbling sound. But this time it didn’t come from Sawyer’s stomach. Snapping the candy bar down the middle, she offered Ethan the other half. “Here, we'll share.”
With a shake of his head, “It’s fine, Rookie. You go ahead.”
“I insist,” holding it in front of him until he finally took it from her. 
Sawyer took a big bite from the corner of her mouth. She moaned softly, leaning her head back against the wall as she savored the chocolate-coated pillowy goodness. “Mmm.”
It was a sweet, familiar and arousing sound that transported Ethan to a night not that long ago. A night when conversation flowed as easily as the gentle sea breeze. When mouths not only tasted the salt in the air, but the salt on each other’s skin. And when her hips rolled against his, like waves lapping the shore.
Noticing he was lost in a daze, Sawyer gently steered him back to the present. “Hey, everything okay?” she asked softly. 
“Hmm?” Registering her voice, he shook the fog from his head, “Uh, yeah. Just remembering something.”
8:00 p.m.
Ethan checked the time on his watch and sighed.
Curiosity got the best of her, wondering if he was late for something. “Did you have any plans tonight?”
“As a matter of fact, I did,” he confessed. “A quiet night in with takeout, a movie, and the promise of interesting conversation.” It was subtle but he caught how she lowered her head to pick lint from her pants, masking what seemed like disappointment. 
“I feel sorry for your date…” she muttered.
The insult caught him off guard. “Excuse me?”
She slapped her hand over her mouth and then clarified, “Oh god, sorry. I didn’t mean it like that! I just meant that they are getting stood up on Valentine’s Day. That sucks. I think the only thing worse than that is getting left at the altar.”
“I’m not worried about it. When Naveen finds out I spent the evening with you instead, I think he’ll be quick to forgive me,” he winked. It wasn’t a secret that Naveen picked up on their chemistry and attempted to play matchmaker often, much to Ethan’s chagrin. 
This time as punishment for his teasing Sawyer shoulder-bumped him while mentally breathing a sigh of relief.  
“What about you? Surely you had plans tonight.” Ethan was well aware of the fact that Sawyer had many admirers at work. There was a high probability that one of them would have extended an invitation to her for the evening, especially the cocksure Dr. Lahela. Ethan noticed how the Malibu Ken doll hung to her every word, and even worse, held on with his self-proclaimed “magic” hands. It appeared to Ethan that the scalpel jockey was incapable of having a conversation without having an arm around her waist, fingers massaging her neck, or hands rubbing her shoulders. And in the last couple weeks, it irked him more and more.  
“Nothing concrete. I was keeping my options open.” With a slight blush pinking up her cheeks, “I know it’s silly but I was really hoping this cute boy from work was going to ask me to be his valentine today.”
Ethan met her eyes in a challenge. “Is that so?” 
Not backing down she looked him dead in the eye. “Yeah, but I don’t think he will. Even though he likes me too.”
“Maybe it’s just bad timing,” Ethan regretfully looked down at his hands. 
“That’s a possibility. But one of the nurses did tell me that Justin also likes Miley, the peds transfer from MK. Apparently he can’t make up his mind which of us he likes more and doesn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings.” Sawyer laughed and tapped his foot with hers to lighten the mood, as a small smile formed on his lips. “I mean, Miley’s really cute, but c’mon,” she lifted her hand up and down gesturing to herself, “I’m the full package.” 
“No argument there,” he agreed, tapping his foot to hers this time.  
8:30 p.m.
Bored, Sawyer stood and stretched in front of the bulletin board. She scanned the flyers advertising rooms for rent and used cars for sale, as well as outdated posters promoting health and wellness. She snorted when she lifted a couple layers to find the “What to do in case of emergency” instructions buried underneath it all. Removing a few of the flyers, she returned to her spot on the floor.
“What are you doing?” he inquired.
“Arts and crafts. Want to join me?” she chuckled expecting him to pass.   
“Sure. Hand me a couple of those flyers.”
“Really?”
“I’ll have you know I’m pretty good at origami.”
“Of course you are,” she rolled her eyes. 
As Ethan got to work folding and twisting a piece of paper, Sawyer carefully creased a couple lines into hers. Having torn off one of the edges to make a perfect square, she continued folding and creasing, then folded each corner toward the center of the page, repeating the process until she had achieved the right shape and size. 
She leaned across Ethan snagging the pen from his chest pocket, “Can I steal this?”
In that split second, Ethan’s senses were overwhelmed. Her hand on his thigh as she reached across with the other. The hints of coconut and tropical flowers that tickled his nose. The closeness of her body against his. He cleared his throat, “It appears that you already have.” 
Already back to work on her project, Sawyer wrote numbers on one side and colors on the other. After carefully pinching the paper to change its shape, she pulled four flaps up and wrote a random phrase on each one. Finished, she excitedly showcased her final product, “Ta-da!” 
“What is it?” he glanced up momentarily from his own craft.  
“A paper fortune teller.” She positioned her fingers to push and pull the points of her device and asked the first question. “Will we ever get out of this elevator?”
Her fingers moved the paper contraption back and forth as she spelled and counted out loud. “B-L-U-E. One… two… three… four.” Peeling back the tab over the number four, she read the fortune. “‘Outlook not good.’ Grrrrrreat.” 
“Geez, I didn’t realize being in my company was so horrible,” he inserted, still concentrating hard on his art project.  
“It’s the worst,” she said, dramatically rolling her eyes and feigning annoyance. “Ask a question. You can keep it to yourself if you want.” 
“Uhhh…” he thought for a moment, working on the final touches of his origami. “Did I make the right decision in Miami?” he asked himself. “Okay, I’ve got one.”
“Pick a color,” she instructed, showing him the options. 
“Green.” For the color of her eyes he decided.
“G-R-E-E-N. Now pick a number between one and eight.”
“One.” Because she was the number one intern, his number one pick for the program, and the first person he thought of when he woke up these last few weeks. 
Sawyer peeled back the tab. “Reply hazy. Try again later.” She heard Ethan’s unsatisfied snort. “Not the answer you were hoping for?” 
“Not quite.”
Sawyer assumed his question was about finding a cure for Naveen and offered him a sympathetic smile. Noticing that his hands were now still in his lap, she pointed to them. “Let’s see your masterpiece.”
Ethan presented a nearly perfect paper rose complete with stem and leaves. “For you.”
Surprised and flattered, Sawyer accepted the sweet gesture. “Wow,” admiring the level of detail as she twirled the delicate flower in her hand. Then looking into his waiting eyes, she held the paper blossom to her chin, “Thank you.” 
9:30 p.m. 
Ethan circled his ankle and bent his knee up and down a few times trying to improve the circulation in his leg.  
“Leg falling asleep?”
“Yes.”
An idea forming in her head, Sawyer unlocked her phone and opened her music app. Scrolling through her favorite playlist, she found a befitting tune and pressed play. Rising to her feet, she extended her hand to Ethan. “May I have this dance?”
Ethan stared at her hand considering, then met her eyes. 
“C’mon,” she reached down to take both his hands and helped pull him to his feet. “We need to stretch our legs. And honestly if I don’t move around I might pee my pants.”
“Well, we don’t want that.” Still holding her hands, he raised his left hand and folded his fingers around hers. He guided her other hand to his shoulder and placed his right hand on her waist.
They began to sway back and forth making circles in the small space of the elevator car. At first they avoided eye contact. But as the words of the song sunk in, their eyes met more frequently until they were finally locked on one another.  
I wanna memorize you, wanna stay here forever 'Cause I-I-I, I-I-I I take a picture in my mind so we're always together 'Cause I-I-I, I-I-I wanna remember
When the song ended, Sawyer was the one who broke the trance. She was just about to pull away when Ethan spoke. 
“One more?”
The corners of her lips lifted into a radiant smile. “Okay. Let me find another song.”
“I rather liked the last one.”
After hitting the replay button and returning the phone to her pocket, Ethan took her hand again. As the intro music played, he slid his other hand around to her back pulling her body close until there was no space between them. Her arm wrapped around his waist. The side of her face rested in the crook of his neck.
This feels like One of those moments moving by so fast You wanna do something just to make it last You wanna do something to remember Breathe it in The feel of your body on my fingertips The moonlight on fire and the clothes we're in We gotta do something to remember We don't wanna forget it
As they rocked side to side in each other’s arms, Sawyer could see their reflection in the stainless steel walls. His chin rested on the top of her head literally breathing her in as the lyrics suggested. 
The song ended and Ethan placed a quick peck on the top of Sawyer’s head. Ever-so-soft, she wouldn’t have even noticed had she not still been looking at their reflection. When they finally pulled away, Ethan brought her hand to his lips. “Thank you for the dance.”
11:00 p.m.
Tired and cold, Sawyer sat by Ethan’s side using his shoulder as a pillow. He encouraged her to try and get some sleep, but the cold steel against her back and dropping temperature in the elevator made it difficult. 
When she hugged herself to help control the shivers, Ethan nudged her to sit up and removed his lab coat. “Come here,” he patted the floor in front of him. 
She did as she was told, nestling herself in between his legs as Ethan draped his coat over her like a blanket. Pulling it up just barely over her mouth, Sawyer breathed in the familiar and intoxicating scent.
With a hand on her shoulder, Ethan guided her back against his chest. Framing her sides with his bent knees, he transferred his warmth and Sawyer melted into him.
Ethan leaned his head against the wall and took long slow breaths. His mind and body were engaged in conflict. He summoned all his strength to resist temptation and tamp down the twitch in his pants. As his head said “no,” his body urged him to lean down and nibble her earlobe. Massage her pulse point with his tongue. Slip his hand down her shirt to know whether her heart still beats as it did in Miami.  
As they laid there quietly for a few minutes, an occasional shiver still coursed through Sawyer even though the cold no longer affected her. She felt Ethan take a deep breath, her own body moving with the rise and fall of his chest. “What are you thinking about?” she asked softly.
He wanted to tell her. He wanted to give her the honesty she asked for that day in the lab. He took a moment to think of how he wanted to phrase it, and when he was ready, he leaned down and half-whispered next to her ear. 
“Stavo pensando che mi fai sentire qualcosa che non ho mai provato prima. So di aver detto che questa cosa tra noi è sbagliata e non dovremmo. E per la prima volta nella mia vita... non voglio avere ragione. Perché voglio che tu sia mio.” 
Sawyer didn’t understand anything he said, but she felt the meaning deep in her bones. Turning her head and shifting her body, she looked him in the eyes. There was longing and desire, and she watched how they slowly drifted down to her lips. She leaned in ever so slightly and Ethan pushed forward the rest of the way capturing her mouth. His hands held the sides of her head as he kissed her over and over. As her lips parted, he lightly introduced the tip of his tongue, moving deeper as she opened to him further. They continued to take each other’s breath away until at last the need for air had him closing the kiss with a soft peck. 
Needing to slow the pace before things went too far, Ethan rested his forehead against hers and begged, “Tell me something. Anything.” 
Sawyer caressed his face as a beautiful smile spread across hers. “This has been the best Valentine’s date ever.”
He leaned back a bit, raising his eyebrow in disbelief. 
“I mean it. Great conversation and lots of fun. You gave me chocolate and flowers. We danced. You spoke sweet nothings in Italian. At least that’s what I heard… you could have said I had amateur scalpel technique for all I know… but it was still romantic. And that kiss,” she sighed softly. “I’ve never been one for traditional Valentine’s Day gestures, but you may have convinced me otherwise, because tonight was perfect.”
Ethan was just about to say something when the elevator jerked back to life. 
They both stood dusting off their backsides and straightening their clothes when Ethan tried to speak again. “Sawyer?”
She already knew how this was going to end. “You don’t have to say it, Ethan. I know where things stand when these doors open.”
He nodded sadly. “Right. But I was also going to say, ‘Happy Valentine’s Day.’”
“Oh,” she said, surprised. 
The chime indicated the elevator finally reached the first floor. “Ethan?” Sawyer stepped out into the hall and turned around to face him. Smiling affectionately, she held the paper rose close to her heart, “Thank you for a lovely time tonight.”
A/N: Here’s what Ethan said in Italian: “I was thinking that you make me feel something I never have before. I know I’ve said this thing between us is wrong and we shouldn’t. And for the first time in my life… I don’t want to be right. Because I want you to be mine.”
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