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httpiastri · 16 days

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PERFECTLY FINE – CHAPTER ONE (BAHRAIN)

genre: fluff, angst, etc.

warnings: hmmm nothing i think

word count: 5.3k

author's note: aaaa first chapter !! i don't rlly like it but still !!!! a very much opener/get-to-know-the-characters/intro chapter, so maybe boring at times idk. still so excited, thanks to everyone who's contributed. love u all <333

author's note pt2: when i write about the different drivers and their living situations, i know it's not all accurate to how they actually live irl. ik i wrote modena instead of maranello here for ollie although idk exactly when he moved, but there are mentions of milton keynes for the rbj drivers bcs it made it easier for me. anyways, just go with whatever i say about how they live lol. also !!!! i changed yn's team from mp to campos hehe. okay now let's start :)

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the winter break coming to an end is always a bittersweet feeling.

having a lot of free time to catch up with friends and family is always greatly appreciated, but at the same time, it doesn't take many days before you miss racing after the last race of the season. especially when the season is as short as the f3 season is, and especially when you don't partake in any of the winter-season races.

this year, though, coming back to the paddock doesn't feel as complicated as it most often does. your heart is light and your smile is big as you enter through the gates after the long taxi ride from your hotel, and you already can't wait to get started.

as you make your way toward the campos truck, you greet a few people you meet here and there, but it's the sight of a head full of dark, curly hair that makes you stop in your tracks. "jak!"

the american turns around when he hears your voice, grin taking over his face already. you strut all the way over to him, practically throwing yourself into his arms. "hey there," he chuckles, giving you a big hug.

"oh, i've missed you so much!" you exclaim, giving him one last squeeze before pulling away. "it feels like i haven't seen you in ages."

"right? the break was way too long."

juan pokes his head through the door to the truck when he hears your voices, making some kind of comment about all of these loud teenagers always causing a commotion, before coming down to greet you with a hug as well. "how was your break?" he asks.

"wonderful, really. i spent most of it at home, catching up with family and friends. then me and ollie-" your eyes widen at your own words. you clear your throat, looking away from both of the boys for a second. "well, i went to italy."

your relationship with ollie isn't exactly a secret around the paddock, but it's a bit of an unspoken rule not to mention it too much. both because you all want to separate your personal lives from your racing ones – you don't wish to crash into a close friend like jak any more than you'd like to crash into ollie, after all – and because a certain other driver might be around to hear.

someone who's quite the conflict of interest in this specific topic.

your break truly was wonderful. it felt like the only things on your schedule were skiing in the italian mountains, gym-and sim-training, and just relaxing at home in england to recharge for the next season. you had spent a lot of it with ollie, getting to know both him and his family better. it hadn't taken you long before you were best friends with his little sister, sharing little inside jokes and spending time cheering her on at the stable. and you'd even grown surprisingly close with ollie's younger brother, and you loved seeing the three siblings interact.

they all made you feel truly at home with them, like an extended family. you couldn't have asked for anything more.

ollie was well-known in your family even before the break, especially considering how he was one of the first drivers your father picked out for the academy. and during the break, he only further impressed them; he always helped out with household tasks, he did his best to create connections to every relative of yours that he met, and he even bought the sweetest little christmas presents for your parents and grandparents. however, just the mention of italy in your current conversation is enough to make the dams drivers understand. no other detail is necessary.

when you're done talking about your break, it's juan's turn, and then jak's. during the catchup, more and more people drop by to say hello, and it doesn't take long before there's a full-on gathering outside the dams truck. dennis, another one of your former academy members, and pepe, your new teammate and newly found platonic soulmate, both listen in as jak tells you all about how jetlagged he is after coming back from the states just two days ago. "have you gotten properly settled in with aston?" you ask with a smile.

"totally. it's been great, honestly. even the apartment they found for me is top-notch."

"oh? better than milton keynes?"

jak raises his eyebrows at you, and then he bursts out laughing. "duh." throughout the many years of living next-door from each other, there wasn't a single day when the two of you didn't complain about something the apartment complex. the smell, the noise, the trails of blood in the staircase; not exactly things you'll miss when you move out one day.

"i still can't really believe we're not neighbors anymore," you complain, jutting out your bottom lip as you speak. "i've been so close to knocking on your old door so many times, but now some other freak lives there-"

"hey!" pepe shoves your shoulder, and the whole group laughs. "you're much worse than i am!"

"i'm so glad i finally moved out of there," dennis chimes in. "if i had been neighbors with y/n and pepe at the same time… i don't think i would've gotten any sleep at all, man."

"i didn't get any sleep for four years when i lived there..." jak groans.

"is this your first time in a series together?" juan jumps in, looking between you and jak, but seems surprised when you both nod. "best friends but you've never raced each other? maybe this season is what forces you apart."

"yeah, what will you do if i crash into you when you're in the lead?" jak teases, pressing an elbow into your side.

"then i think a few compromising pictures of you might make their way to the aston martin headquarters..."

when it's like this, being on the same grid with all of these people is so easy. you're all friends, not opponents. all in the same boat with the same excitement and expectations for the season. unfortunately, you know it won't stay this uncomplicated for long. when you're actually out on track in a few weeks, forcing each other into the walls and swearing at each other over the team radios, there won't be any more happy faces.

but for now, you enjoy smiling with the people who are just as much your friends as they are your enemies. that is, until you spot someone else joining your little group.

paul.

suddenly, the smile feels much more forced; the air is thicker and harder to breathe in. and when he makes his way over to you, a lump forms in your throat.

a lump you understand probably won't disappear all season.

the second you're back in your hotel room, you reach for the little dark blue book you've hidden in your bedside drawer. the pen in your hand is one you've had for years, one you always bring with you to every race weekend. the ink has been refilled possibly hundreds of times, but the plastic body has remained the same ever since you bought it.

the journal itself is torn; it's been used and loved for many years, too. it's like an extra best friend, a second home. when you're writing in it, it's one of the few times you feel like you can actually be your true, authentic self – it's one of the few times when you're not afraid that someone will judge your emotions or thoughts.

today, you know what you want to write about instantly.

i saw paul for the first time since abu dhabi.

i haven't been able to stop thinking about him. no matter how hard, i couldn't get him out of my mind. i've been wondering what he looks like now, how his voice has changed, if his smile is still as bright. and suddenly, he was there and i saw him.

the answer? he's just as he always was. and i can't tell if that makes me feel alright or awful.

you're pulled out of your head by the sound of a knock on your door, and you instantly scramble to hide your journal in the drawer again. the second you pull the door open and ollie's gaze meets yours, it's like all of your previous thoughts disappear. it's just you and him again; no one else even exists.

especially not paul.

"are you ready to go?" ollie asks, hands finding your sides as he leans in to press a quick kiss to your cheek. "i found the address of some good pasta place, it's just a few blocks from here."

you nod, your hands landing on top of his and giving them a quick squeeze before pulling away. "i just need to put on some earrings," you start, backing into the room. "will you help me choose?"

"of course."

"carlos set a stunning lap today. did you see it?"

the question makes you roll your eyes, letting out a sigh as you bring out three plates from the cupboard above the stove. your dad has always been quick to comment on anything good regarding ferrari; to anyone living in the max verstappen era, even a sliver of a good result is enough to spark some hope, so you aren't exactly surprised. "yes, dad. of course i saw it."

"i reckon this will be our year," your dad continues as you walk past him cooking by the stove, carrying the plates to the dinner table. "carlos will make them regret getting lewis instead of him."

you can't help the chuckle that leaves your mouth. your mom gives you a knowing glare over her newspaper – don't start anything. you choose to ignore it. "you really think this is how it's going to look next week during the actual race?" you ask. "you don't think max is sandbagging the slightest?"

"i'm just telling you," your dad starts, giving his stew a good stir. the snarky tone in his voice is unmistakable. "don't come home crying to me when you realize red bull isn't going to cut it anymore. if you regret your choices, go somewhere else."

even like this, when you're back home for a few days to catch up with your family, neither of you can stay away from this bickering. your dad is always pestering you about sticking with the red bull junior team, and you never can back down from a fight. you're way too stubborn.

"are you saying that i wouldn't have a place in ferrari if i wanted to?" you set the plates down with a thud, the sound making your mother flinch in her seat by the table. "you would say no to your only daughter, huh?"

"i'm just saying that you'd need to prove yourself to get into the academy."

despite your harsh tones, most people around you think you're just joking around when you act like this; some family-mockery can never hurt, right? however, there's always a hint of seriousness behind it. it's been like this between the two of you forever, and especially ever since your dad became the head of the ferrari driver academy – the rivalry between you two is stronger than ever.

you've always been sure of your choice; you've always felt like the red bull family is perfect for you. but recently, you've started to wonder if staying with the team actually was the right thing for you. what really is your future in the team? it's not like you haven't got great drivers ahead of you, drivers who will be called in for a possible f1 seat before you.

and it's not like red bull has a stellar record of keeping all of their drivers. they only have four seats in formula one, after all.

your dad wants you in ferrari, that much is clear. you may have joined the red bull junior team because of his past with the team; he did win their first ever championship, after all. accepting was the only option when you got the offer to join. however... your dad really wants you in ferrari. there's just something about the brand, the colors and the history that obviously is intriguing for everyone. even lewis hamilton couldn't stay away, for god's sake.

you can't admit it, though. not here, not right now.

so instead, you choose to fight fire with fire. "bullshit," you mumble under your breath before speaking clearly again. "second in the championship last year wasn't proof enough?"

"stop this," your mom says, folding up her newspaper and placing it on the table. you roll your eyes yet again but look back at her when she speaks again. "new subject: how is our dear ollie doing?"

you visibly relax at the question, your heart softening in your chest. "he's good. he's back in modena now, so..."

if it had been your dad asking about ollie, you know it would've been because he's interested in how the academy is doing. but since your mom is the one asking, you know it's real concern and curiosity. "how did he find the new car? did he enjoy testing?"

"not really," you say, slipping into the seat opposite your mum as your dad places the pot of stew in front of you on the table. "though, you know, the prema cars are never that good in bahrain. but he assumes they'll bounce back."

there's something in your dad's tone when he speaks again that makes you stop in the middle of your reach for the ladle. "yeah, so i've heard..." it's almost sarcastic, maybe a bit... irritated?

you turn towards him, a frown on your face. "what?"

"william," your mom says with a shake of her head. she knows something. "let's not go there." but just as you're about to call them out on how strange they're acting, she speaks again: "what do your upcoming weeks look like? for how long will you be back in england?"

anyone with eyes – or even without, to be fair – can tell that they're hiding something. and while your curiosity is killing you, you're not in the mood for a full-fledged fight at this time. you take the high road, which isn't your most familiar way of handling things like this, and try your best to push away any wishes to question your parents. you answer, engage in polite conversations and chat about your upcoming season. then, you thank them for dinner and leave the house after giving them their respective kisses on their cheeks.

but all evening, your mind is on something else. and when you get back home to your apartment, your fingers itch to send ollie a text asking if he knows anything. but instead, you go to bed with a knot in your stomach. maybe it's a topic for another day.

being back in the car for testing was great, but it was nothing compared to being back on the track for an actual race weekend. the first round of the championship was something you'd looked forward to for what felt like years, and now it was finally time. you've never been more excited, or nervous, for any race weekend.

you weren't off to the best of starts, though. qualifying has always been one of your stronger suits, so coming 13th was not a result you had anticipated. thankfully, it meant you had time to practice overtaking and had a good chance of improving your place. having to start right behind pepe and paul in both races was an interesting coincidence, but you were obviously not going to let any of it affect your racing.

though p8 is not the best place to finish, you are actually quite pleased with having gained several positions in the sprint race and taking your first point of the year. the car was, as you knew it would be, very different from the f3 car, although you were surprisingly confident and managed it well despite the circumstances.

paul, too, handled it all very well – p12 to p5 is a great record. and when he sees the timing board and realizes that you also did well considering the circumstances, he's overjoyed. he's practically bouncing down the paddock when he finally gets out of his car, accepting the fans' cheers and the handshakes from his engineers with a big grin. and when he sees you further down the paddock, his mind is filled with memories of the two of you celebrating your good placements in all other categories.

just because you aren't a couple now doesn't mean you can't honor these results together, right?

but just a second later, he realizes that you're surrounded by the familiar red-clad staff members instead of your own campos staff, and you're standing right by that red prema car he knows so well. and, sure enough, soon the person he'd forgotten about steps up to you.

paul watches as you wrap your arms around ollie's shoulders, and his heart sinks in his chest. your boyfriend hides his face in your shoulder and your hand comes up to stroke the skin on the back of his neck. paul can tell how your lips are moving, and the pout you're showing off tells him enough about what's going on even though he can't actually hear what you're saying. you aren't prioritizing being happy about your own race – it's more important to comfort ollie.

to paul, there's something so unsettling about the sight. he's seen the two of you together many times before – besides, he gets tagged in pretty much every picture a fan takes of you with your boyfriend – but it isn't your proximity that he has issues with.

the thing that upsets him is the fact that there's a frown stretched across your features; one that doesn't leave even when you part from ollie, or when you're cheered on by your mechanics, or when you leave for your post-race interviews. a frown that any other time would be replaced with a big, proud smile because of your accomplishments.

the music blasting into your ears from your airpods cuts out the rest of the world, the usually so busy and loud paddock all gone the second you pressed the play button on your phone. it's been your favorite way of getting in the race mood for years; you're not superstitious in many other ways, but your playlist has stayed the same since your first season in f4. walking around the garage, doing your warmups, or even just sitting around and waiting to get in the car like you are right now, you listen to the exact same songs on repeat. it's one of the few things that makes you truly focus on the race ahead of you.

so when you feel two hands on your shoulders from behind, you jump in your seat. turning your head, you're relieved to see the big smile of pepe shining down at you. "did i scare you?" he asks loudly enough to cut through the music, and you barely have time to nod and take one airpod out before he speaks again. "good, that was my intention."

you slide your airpods into their case as pepe plops into the seat next to you, eyes zoning in on the f3 feature race on the screen in front of you. "i'm so upset," you huff, shaking your head. "did you see the start?"

"i heard," he answers just as dino's red car appears on the screen, and he crosses his arms over his chest. "but he's made up ten places already, right?"

"yeah..." you lean your head onto his shoulder with a sigh. "we should focus on the positives. like chris!"

"and like our upcoming race." you can practically hear his grin when he speaks. "i have a good feeling about it."

when you found out that jak was leaving the red bull junior academy last fall, you were heartbroken. he's been one of your closest friends ever since you first met; the two of you have always been joined by the hip, despite how you've never raced in the same series before, and you spent most of your free time either training together or just hanging out. how would you ever get over him leaving you all alone in the academy?

thankfully, pepe joined in the late summer. at first, you were just acquaintances, but something about his personality was too good not to fall for. it didn't take long for him to become one of your closest friends, too. another boy your age, another boy with crazy energy and amazing potential – he filled the void in your heart quite well.

as well as jak's old apartment.

you'd raced each other in f3 last season, though barely ever crossed paths or talked. but living next to each other, doing all of your sim work together, and now even being on the same team meant that your relationship went from zero to one hundred in just days.

this season is your first with campos, while he's been with the team for several years already, and so far he's been very good at helping you get used to everything off track. they took a big chance choosing two rookies for their lineup, and the two of you promised each other to do your best to make them satisfied with their choice. so far, you've gotten one third and eight place in your first-ever f2 race – and you're just getting started.

"i do, too," you hum. "let's go out there and show them today."

paul is beaming when you see him stroll back to the paddock after his media duties. his cap is perched on top of his head – the right cap, finally – and his fingers are still tightly wrapped around the neck of his champagne bottle. when he notices you leaning against the doorframe leading into the f2 hospitality, his smile grows even bigger.

you meet him halfway, arms wrapping around his shoulders easily, just like they have so many times before. one of his arms drapes around your waist and he holds you close, a hum vibrating from his chest. finally, he thinks to himself; this definitely makes up for all of the things he felt yesterday.

"congrats, paul," you tell him. "that was amazing. you were amazing."

"thank you," he says before pausing. then, he lets out a chuckle. "to be honest, i wasn't sure if you would care."

you frown at him when you pull slightly away from him, just enough to look into his eyes. is that what he really thought? that you wouldn't care about his driving? "oh, please. you still mean a lot to me, okay?" your hand moves down to his upper arm, giving it a soft squeeze. "i still consider you to be one of my closest friends."

friends. the word stings like a knife in his heart. it's been months since you broke up, and yet, it still feels like a raw wound.

paul forces a smile. he understands that despite how painful it is, there's something good in it. there's still a place for him in your heart, even if he's forced to share it with someone else.

he pulls you in again, and the hug is even tighter now than before. it's a comforting feeling; you're both at peace, with a good weekend behind you, in the arms of someone so close to you. after everything you've gone through together, but especially everything he has gone through these last few months with the mercedes academy and prema, you're finally through to the other side. "it all worked out in the end, huh?" you ask after a few moments of silence.

"i guess it did." you part from each other to leave that oh-so-familiar gap between you yet again. "will you be celebrating with us tonight? i think pepe had something planned. you know how he is."

you snort. "yeah, i do know. maybe i will." you shift uncomfortably, crossing your arms over your chest as your eyes dart to the ground. "but, um... i'll have to check with..."

you don't even say his name – you don't have to. ollie's entire weekend has been so far from everyone's expectations, and if you know him correctly, he will not be in the mood for celebrations tonight.

paul nods slowly, pressing his lips into a thin line. "right."

the silence that follows is so awkward you can't help but chew on your bottom lip, a tiny sigh escaping through your mouth. he must be hating this, you think – today is supposed to be only a good day for him, he shouldn't have his ex's new relationship pushed up in his face.

"well, i have a debrief to get to," you make up, flashing him a quick smile. "congrats again, paul."

"thank you." he gives you another nod, before turning away and making his way towards the paddock. "pepe will text you!"

and just like that, he's off, and your mind wanders to the thought of actually going out to celebrate. ollie will definitely not join you, though you're not sure why you don't want to go without him. is it because you'd rather stay and comfort him?

or is it because you're scared of what you'll do, or feel, when you're alone with paul for the first time since you broke up?

"p5 is still good, my dear." your mom's voice booms out from the speakers of your phone as you drop it onto the desk, and you can't help but let out a sigh, taking a step back.

"of course, but... i feel like i could've done more." it was both true and not; with paul's five-second penalty, you definitely could've gained at least one more position if only you had stayed within that gap. but then again, a fifth position and ten more points was a great result for a rookie.

"but you'll still be going out to celebrate with your friends, right?"

you ended up telling pepe you weren't in the mood to party, despite his persistent complaints, and decided to instead use the evening for relaxation and recovery. your entire body, especially your neck, has really suffered this weekend – you were already sore after the shakedown, but this is on another level – so a bubble bath and a good night's sleep in your hotel room seemed like a much better choice.

"no, i'm just going to rest a little..." you hum, flopping down on the chair by the desk. "maybe grab something to eat with ollie."

weirdly enough, you haven't been able to get in contact with him all evening. you were told that he hurried back to his hotel room right after the race, not in the mood to talk to anyone on the team at all, so you chose to give him some time alone to cool down before you'll eventually go over there. still, you thought he would've answered at least one of your many texts by now.

thinking about your boyfriend, you suddenly remember something. "hey, mum?" she lets out an affirmative sound. "you remember when i was home last time, and dad said something about ollie and the car? and he acted all weird?" you pause for a moment, but when she doesn't say anything, you keep going. "what was that all about?"

"well darling, we..." you take the sudden silence as a sign that she might not be sure how honest she wants to be right now, and it makes you frown instinctively. she sighs. "we're just a little worried about him, that's all."

your confusion only grows. "what's that supposed to mean?"

"we're worried he's feeling too pressured to impress us." you hear her take a deep breath. "of course, your father is his boss, so it is natural in that way. but we wish he would just see us as any regular parents. he's always talking about racing like there's nothing else in the world, and..."

"that's not fair." you shake your head despite the fact that she can't see it. "that isn't him. he isn't all racing and no fun."

"oh love, i'm sure he is loads of fun, but-"

"i really have to go," you cut her off, standing from your seat. "talk to you later."

you hang up before she can even answer, the guilt in your head from treating your mother like that already pushed away by the anger growing inside of you.

you always assumed your parents loved ollie. sure, you knew they adored having paul over when you were still a couple, too, but ollie is every mother-in-law's dream son. he's from your country, he's a pure sweetheart, he's even in the fda for god's sake. how could they not love him?

and so what if he tries to impress them? who wouldn't do the same?

when ollie opens his door for you, he looks like he's just woken up from a bad night's sleep. bed head, bags under his eyes, and just a general aura of tiredness. if you didn't know better, you'd think he was an insomniac. but thinking back to how badly his race went, the sight of him just makes your stomach churn.

your arms wrap around his neck in an instant, pulling him into your warm embrace. you feel the tension in his upper back release right away, and ollie's hands find your sides, giving you a light squeeze. you refrain the urge to pull away when he nuzzles his nose into your neck, standing strong against your usual ticklishness, and your heart softens slightly when he lets out a deep sigh into your skin.

"you okay?" you finally manage to get out, and his answer comes in the form of a nod against your shoulder. "is there anything i can do for you?"

he pulls away but stays so close that you feel his breath against your face; so close that you're both slightly cross-eyed when your gazes meet. "stay with me?"

your answer is expressed through the fleeting kiss you press to his lips, your way of saying of course. ollie doesn't waste any time pulling you into his hotel room, and you flop down onto the bed with him. he sits up and watches you lie down against the covers, your head nestling into the pillow. "tell me about your race," he says as he reaches down to take your hand, his fingers slipping in between yours. "eight positions gained, huh?"

of course he doesn't want to talk about his own race. but the fact that he's willing to think about racing at all, just to let you have a chance to talk about how well you did and boast a little; it all makes your heart flutter.

and you're sure, you're so sure that he is so much more than just a racing driver. he's not what your parents think he is. he's an incredible racer, sure, but he's also the sweetest man you've ever met. the perfect boyfriend.

even when he's feeling like this, he takes his time to still pay attention to you and ask questions. and then he listens, he really listens, because he wants to understand every inch of your mind just as well as he geeks out about every detail of apexes and tyre degradation. and then he says just the right things, the things to sweep you off your feet yet again.

he's so perfect that he's incredibly easy to love.

so why is there a knot in your stomach at the thought of the race – and more specifically, the person on the last step of the podium?

why does your mind keep running back to how he's celebrating, and what it would be like if you'd been there with him?

yourusername just posted!

yourusername double pookie podiums & good points in the bag! thanks camposracing for a great car ❤️ we go again in a week!

show all 81 comments

user top job this weekend!!

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

user i will stop hating on red bull if either of these get into f1

→ user red bull juniors >>> anyone else

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

user what happened to ollie though 😭

→ user it's just the first round, calm your horses

→ user why always bring up ollie on her posts... is that all she is, ollie's gf? 😐

→ user forreeaaalll

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

redbulljuniorteam y/n and pepe making us proud 🥺

→ user pls admin you're making me cry

→ yourusername me too 😭

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senorabond · 23 days

Text

Rumor Has It: Chapter 9 Peña x f!reader x Pike

Pairings: Marcus Pike x f!reader; Javier Peña x f!reader; future Peña x f!reader x Pike

Chapter 9 Summary: Flashback: All rules go out the window the first time you and Marcus are truly alone.

Rating: 18+ (Minors DNI), Explicit sexual content, additional warnings may be added for future chapters

Chapter Warnings: no use of y/n, flashback, workplace romance, oral sex (m receiving), Marcus being the softest saddest boy, bearded!Marcus, ‘good girl’ origin story

Reader/Character notes: Reader is fem!afab; No mention of Reader’s body size, shape, composition, or skin color.

Words: 4.4k

Author’s Note: I wrote most of this at the same time I was writing chapter 8; I just couldn’t get this image out of my head of sad-boi!Marcus, watching his classic films, eating his pint of Ben & Jerry’s… I decided to break up this flashback as well because there is so much I want to do with bearded Marcus and the word count was getting untenable.

Thank you to my darling, my lovely beta, Kilamonster! I’m forever grateful for your unceasing encouragement and feedback. Besitos para ti 💋💜

Dividers by @saradika!

Masterlist || Previous Chapter

One Year EarlierWashington, D.C.

Pike had been acting weird ever since he went on that work trip to give a deposition. At first you thought he was just grumpy from being jet lagged, or perhaps the deposition hadn’t gone well. His office door was closed most of the time, which was very unusual for him.

The poor man looked like somebody had run over his dog. You’d never seen him look so haggard in all the months you’d been detailed to his unit. His shoulders drooped, his shirts were wrinkled, and his usually well-groomed appearance turned a bit unkempt. You had to admit the beard he’d been growing for awhile had a rakish charm about it. He’d let his hair grow out, and the forelock that fell over his forehead was simply dreamy and emphasized his large, coffee colored eyes. Apparently the sad boy look did it for you.

You saw a few members of his team try various things to engage with him, inviting him to happy hours and trivia nights, bringing him coffee and pastries each morning. He was always grateful, insisted on paying for the food and drinks, but declined all invitations. Whispers were starting to circulate about various reasons for the change in Pike’s demeanor.

You hate rumors. Which is how you find yourself sitting in your car on a Friday night, fully intending to go to the gym, but thinking about Pike instead. This had gone on long enough. Either he needed to be snapped out of it, or needed a friend to talk to about whatever he’s going through.

Instead of driving to the gym, you stop by the store to pick up a six-pack of beer you’ve seen Pike drink at happy hours, and go to his place. He’s hosted team hangouts there, always making sure to include you. The case you’re on now occasionally results in late nights with a few of the team ordering massive amounts of takeout and working late into the night, camped out in various locations around his living room. You’re always the first to nab the cozy throw blanket off the back of the couch and hunker down into the plush cushions.

Tonight is different. You’ve only been alone with Pike a few times, never for long, and never at his place. Those few times you have been alone were always work related or out at a social function for as long as it took for someone to get back with the next round. By the time you begin to second guess your decision to go over, you’re already in his neighborhood and turning down his street.

You think to yourself that it’s still not too late to turn back. Then Pike’s face from that afternoon comes to mind – those big, brown eyes of his that are usually so full of passion and intelligence had dulled the last few weeks. With your mind made up, you park in front of his townhouse and grab the six-pack from your passenger seat.

A few steps from the front door, you pause when it occurs to you that the windows are darkened. His car is there, but the only light you can see is coming from the fan-shaped window at the top of his door. He might be out, or sleeping – you check your watch – at seven o’clock on a Friday night. Or, he might have somebody over, and having a young-ish female agent from work showing up would just be an awkward mood killer.

You hesitate, then take a step forward, thinking you’ll leave the beer for him and send a text. Shaking your head, you realize that’d just be creepy, and turn around to go back to your car. Just then, you hear his front door open and whirl around to see Pike standing there in a white undershirt and joggers.

“Hey –”

“Hey!” You cut him off, a little too loudly and flinch. “Hey, sorry, um…” You’re not quite sure what to say at this point, it all sounds too dumb. He doesn’t look angry, just a bit bemused by your presence. Thankfully, Marcus ends the awkward silence first.

“Do you want to come in?” Stepping back, Marcus opens the door a bit wider and you can see that he’s barefoot. You’re not sure why you find that endearing.

“Yeah, thanks.” You step inside, noticing that most of the interior lights are off except for a couple at the back of the house. There’s faint noise coming from the TV in the living room. Not sure what else to do, you stand there and awkwardly hold up the six-pack.

“I brought beer.”

“Oh, okay. Thank you.” Marcus politely takes the beer and shuts the door. As he walks back to the kitchen, he asks over his shoulder, “Did I miss a group text about a hangout?”

“No, I just…” Sighing, you hover at the threshold of his kitchen, where he’s opening two of the beer bottles. You decide to lean into the awkwardness and just go for it. “Are you okay?”

“What? Yeah, of course I’m okay. Why do you ask?” Marcus answers far too quickly and casually, so you push.

“You’ve seemed…off lately.” Accepting a beer, you take a swig to steady your nerves. The words all come out in a rush. “Ever since you went to give that deposition. You just haven’t seemed yourself.”

Marcus watches you silently. You shrug, and admit, “I guess I was kind of worried.”

You pause, your stomach in knots, sure now that you’ve just been imagining things, and that you’ve overstepped the limits of your professional relationship. Marcus takes a deep breath and places both hands on the island counter, leaning with his arms straight. He fixes you with an unreadable expression.

“Did the others put you up to this?”

“No!” You assure him, stepping forward and putting your beer bottle on the counter. “Nobody put me up to this. Nobody even knows I’m here.”

Wanting him to believe you, you place a hand on his upper arm, feeling the well developed muscles flex under your touch.

“Really, Marcus. You can talk to me. What’s going on?”

Marcus sniffs, then takes a long pull from his beer.

“Have you ever seen Casablanca?”

~*~*~*~

An hour later, Casablanca plays quietly in the background, and the two of you are settled back on the couch, washing down pizza with more beer.

Turns out Marcus hadn’t expected to see you standing there when he opened his front door. He’d gotten an alert from his doorbell camera and figured it was the pizza delivery guy. You laugh together when he shows you the video captured of your exchange.

“So, wait – you were just sitting here in the dark, watching a classic romance, in your pajamas? Where’s the pint of Ben and Jerry’s?” You’re both laughing at your lighthearted ribbing. You swear Marcus blushes a bit, but the beard and dim lighting makes it hard to tell.

“In the freezer…” You laugh even harder at this revelation. “What? I was saving it for after the pizza!”

“You’ve been holding out on me, Pike?” You give him a playful push with your foot. “Go get it!”

Marcus’ smile looks almost back to normal as he gets up and pads off to the kitchen, returning with a pint of Chunky Monkey and two spoons.

“So,” you start, swallowing your first bite. “Who is she? Or he – I don’t want to assume, of course.”

“Who says there’s anyone at all?” Marcus demures, taking a large spoonful for himself. You sit facing each other on the couch, hunched over the shared ice cream.

“Seriously? The movie, the comfort food, the sweats – it’s Breakup Recovery 101, and you could teach the course.” He chuckles as you knock his spoon away with your own to go after a large piece of walnut.

“I know it’s cliche, but...”

“But it helps,” you finish for him, and he nods. Selflessly, you let him take the chunk of chocolate you were gunning for. The ice cream is starting to make you feel cold and you look around the room.

“What?” Marcus asks, turning his spoon over to lick it clean.

“Where’s the blanket that’s normally here?” You pat its usual spot on the back of the couch.

“Oh, hang on, I’ll get it.” While you dig around for another piece of chocolate, he disappears upstairs. A minute later he’s back with the cozy throw. “Sorry, I usually put it out if I know you’re coming over.”

Marcus spreads the blanket over both your laps while you hold the ice cream out of the way.

“You don’t normally keep it out here?” Marcus shakes his head.

“Nah, I don’t usually need a blanket. But you got cold the first time you came over – for the Superbowl party, I think? I went out and got one so you’d be more comfortable the next time.”

You stare at Marcus, blinking, as he picks through for the good bits. This man, who barely knew you the first time you came over, went out and bought a blanket to keep at his house on the off chance you got cold here again. You don’t even remember saying you were cold at the party, you’d just put on your jacket until the house warmed up a bit. You’re not sure what to make of the feelings stirring inside your chest.

“Thanks, Marcus. That was really thoughtful.” He shrugs in reply.

“I like my friends to be comfortable.” And that’s when you remember Marcus sees you as a friend, and you see him as one too. You swallow around a lump and clear your throat.

“I didn’t even know you’d been seeing anyone. Will you tell me what happened?”

After a deep breath, Marcus tells you everything – about his last assignment, the woman he’d briefly been engaged to when he came to D.C., and the man she stayed behind for. He tells you about seeing both of them when he went to give the deposition. And in return, you tell him what a badass he was for laying it all out for that asshole.

“Well, I don’t know about ‘badass.’ This is so embarrassing, but I actually said I’d grown the beard out for,” he raises his fingers in air quotes, “‘an undercover thing.’”

You try not to laugh, but fail miserably. “Aw, that’s not so bad.” Marcus rolls his eyes.

“No, really! Once after a bad breakup I dyed my hair blue and sent my ex a glitter bomb.” Marcus laughs and tugs playfully at a lock of your hair.

“I bet you looked cute as hell with blue hair.”

“Trust me, I didn’t look nearly as cute with blue hair as you do with a beard.” You reach up and stroke the side of his scruff. The shared laughter fades, and you’re left just looking at each other, taking one another in.

The words bubble up in your chest and flow out, “She was so stupid, Marcus. I bet she doesn’t know what she’s missing.”

Marcus smiles ruefully and ducks his head, and you leave your spoon in the carton so you can take his face in both of your hands. His cheeks are soft and warm under your touch.

“I’m serious. You’re an amazing agent, an incredible friend, and an even better human being. I mean it when I say it’s her loss.”

Marcus’ eyes go soft and he swallows. You realize you’re still holding his face and begin to retreat, but he holds one of your hands in place, his fingers cold from the forgotten ice cream in his lap. Closing his eyes, he takes a breath and turns his face to kiss your palm.

“Thank you,” he whispers.

Your chest is tight from holding back the urge to do – what, you’re not exactly sure. Anything, whatever it takes to bring that smile back to his face and erase the sadness from his eyes. Leaning in, you brush a gentle kiss across his cheek, then another.

And then his lips are on yours, warm and soft, slightly sticky from the ice cream. Marcus is moving, setting the half-melted ice cream on the coffee table and letting your spoons clatter, his lips never leaving yours.

Your arms wrap around his neck to pull him closer and you can smell the sweetness of the dessert on his beard. When he deepens the kiss, you sigh into his mouth, enjoying how his tongue tastes and feels against yours.

The scratch of the stubble doesn’t hurt, but the hairs on his upper lip tickle at your nose when you suck gently on his bottom lip. He moans, which seems to surprise him, and he pulls away, breathless.

You try to follow but he holds your upper arms while saying, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry – I shouldn’t have – so many reasons…”

You can see he’s overthinking everything, so you put it plainly.

“I want this, and I want you. Is that how you feel too?”

Marcus says emphatically, “God, yes. But–”

“Let me make you feel good, Marcus.” You press your forehead to his and stroke his cheek. Placing light kisses to the corner of his mouth, then the apple of his cheek, the scruff on his jaw, you add a soft, “Please.”

Marcus inhales sharply through his nose, and his hands flex, tightening their grip on your arms for a second. You lay a kiss at the corner of his eye, the place that crinkles so sweetly when he smiles. Turning his face into yours, he nudges your cheek with the gentle slope of his nose. His arms encircle you, one hand coming up to cup the back of your neck.

“Let me help you forget.”

Smoothing your hands over his chest, you try to slow your breathing. Being in Marcus’ arms, practically in his lap, is making you feel desperate. You’d do anything to make him feel better, anything to make him feel cherished.

“Just for tonight?” A hint of pleading enters your voice. Slowly, you pull your feet under you, kneeling on the couch. Marcus swallows thickly, and when he finally speaks, his words come out hoarse.

“Say it again.”

Not quite sure what he means, you pause for a moment, pulling back to bring him into focus. His pupils are blown, his soft lips parted. Marcus looks as wrecked as you feel.

“Say ‘please’ again.” The words send tingles straight between your legs.

“Please, Marcus.”

It comes out in a whisper, immediately followed by his mouth on yours. His broad chest feels hot under your hands where you grasp the soft cotton of his t-shirt.

He slips his large hands under the hem of your sweatshirt, then molds them to your ass. Putting your arms around the back of his neck, he lifts and helps you clamber over until you're straddling his lap.

“I want to make you feel good too,” he pants between your lips.

Marcus leaves a scorching trail of kisses and licks down your neck until you gasp and grab a fistful of his soft hair to hold him to the spot that makes you dizzy. Feeling the evidence of his growing arousal, you roll your hips to press against him, sighing from the relief the friction gives you. Marcus lets out a soft grunt and pulls you into him again, this time lifting his hips up to meet yours.

Unzipping the loose hoodie you’d intended for the gym, Marcus helps you free your arms from the fitted cuffs and tosses it somewhere on the floor behind you. You’re only wearing a lightweight tank top over your sports bra, and, in the back of your mind, you’re happy you happen to be wearing the nice one that actually makes your tits look good.

Deciding to show them off, you strip the tank top over your head and toss it to the side of the couch you’d been sitting on. Marcus lets out a breath and pauses to admire your body, running his hands up and down your exposed midriff. As his hands caress your breasts, your nipples harden against the soft fabric of your bra, and he swipes a thumb over one causing you to shiver.

Reaching down, you tug the hem of Marcus’ white undershirt up and he leans forward, allowing you to pull it all the way off. You knew his arms were nice, but his chest and shoulders would have made your knees weak if you were standing. His golden skin is dappled with a light sprinkling of freckles down the column of his neck. You lean over to kiss at the base of his throat, feeling it vibrate when he hums, then lick and suck your way across his neck and shoulder.

“Your mouth feels good,” Marcus intones huskily.

Smiling, you nip gently at his earlobe before whispering, “It’ll feel even better on your cock.”

“Fuck,” he groans. “You want to suck my cock?”

In answer, you reach between your bodies and palm his dick through his soft jogging pants, then give it a small stroke. He grunts, then turns his head, capturing your lips in another heated kiss.

When you moan, he deepens the kiss and drags his hot tongue against yours. He tastes so good, you’re reluctant to stop, but the size and heft of him through his pants is too tempting to resist. Sliding a finger into his waistband, you give it a playful tug and feel him smile against your mouth. You slip your hand inside and wrap your fingers around his sizable cock.

“Oh my god,” you murmur, and he huffs a small laugh that gets drawn out into a moan when you grasp him firmly in your fist.

“I'm flattered,” he says lightly, but as you give him a tentative stroke his brow creases and he lets out a soft gasp.

“Trust me, it's not just flattery.” His breath hitches when you stroke him again and he kisses your bare shoulder. You reach down with your other hand and pull his cock free of his pants to give you more freedom of movement.

Glancing down between your bodies, you're disappointed that you can't make out much in the darkness of the living room. Setting a slow, easy pace, Marcus groans and rests his forehead on your shoulder, grabbing a fistful of each ass cheek in his hands.

“Does that feel good?” Your voice comes out low and intimate, almost a whisper.

Nodding, he makes small movements with his hips to thrust up into your hand.

“Do you want more? Do you want my mouth?”

He lets out a guttural moan and nods more empathically, pulling back to kiss you again. Breaking the kiss gently, you slide down between his splayed thighs and kneel before him, the plush rug comfortable under your knees. In this new position, you're more acutely aware of how wet you've been getting.

You can see the top half of his cock trapped between his stomach and waistband, and eagerly reach for him.

“Take this off first,” he instructs softly, toying with the strap of your sports bra with a quirk to his lips.

Smiling, you obey and pull off the tight garment, watching his face to see his reaction. In the dimness of the living room, the light cast from the TV flickers silently across his face, highlighting the cut of his jaw and cheekbones.

“Beautiful,” he whispers to himself, and cups your face in his hand. He drags the pad of his thumb across your bottom lip, unconsciously flicking his tongue out to wet his own. You decide you like seeing him from this angle, awaiting his next word or move, basking in his praise.

You grasp at the elastic waistband and Marcus lifts his hips. As his cock is freed, he watches you intensely under heavy lids. Pulling his jogging pants all the way down to his ankles, you let him adjust and get comfortable while you stroke his thighs.

Your mouth waters, impatient to feel the swollen head of his cock slipping past your lips. Grasping the solid weight of him in your fist, you pull up from the base, delighted to see a drop of precum pearl at the tip. Before it can spill over, you lean in and lick the salty substance away.

“Fuck,” Marcus’ hips spasm involuntarily, the head of his cock bumping into your mouth. “Shit, sorry.”

Ignoring his apology, you engulf him in your mouth and swirl your tongue around the ridge, then flick it at the sensitive spot just underneath. Keeping one hand at the base, you gather spit in your mouth and let it drip over the cut head, stroking him a few times to make it nice and slick.

“Jesus,” he whispers, watching you create a seal between your mouth and hand, stroking the length that won’t fit in your mouth. His moans and sighs fill your ears, hands roaming your shoulders and neck, cradling your head, pulling back your hair. He’s holding back, though. Thighs and abs rigid, arms tense, he isn’t giving himself over to the pleasure.

“I want you to use my mouth,” you tell him, then take him back in your mouth. You take one of his hands and place it at the back of your head, giving yourself a push to indicate that he can pull you down if he wants. Marcus groans and gives an experimental push, but stays tense.

Pulling off him again, you stroke the head to keep him stimulated. “Please, Marcus – fuck my mouth.”

“Oh, fuck…” Marcus slowly begins to relax, allowing his hips to buck up and meet your mouth as he gently pulls your face down. “Your mouth, it feels so good, you’re so good.”

He drops his head to rest on the back of the couch. His large hands palm each side of your face and you take him in, all the way to the back of your throat, letting him feel the vibrations of your moans.

“Ah, hnh, fuck…” Every bob of your head and thrust of his hips elicits a grunt or noise in the back of his throat. You’re sure you must be soaking wet now, and you’re tempted to touch yourself while you suck him off.

“Just like that…fuck – so fucking good, baby. Take my cock – ah, yeah…”

The sounds he's making have you moaning and whimpering around his cock, eyes closed, drool coating your mouth and chin.

“I’m not gonna last if you keep that up– ugh, god.”

Clenching your thighs, your hips move involuntarily, trying to get some stimulation to your throbbing clit. You need some relief, and press the heel of your palm to your mound, grinding into it in time with every thrust of Marcus’ cock into your mouth.

“Fuck, are you touching yourself while you suck me off? Does it turn you on that much, taking me deep, feeling me fuck your mouth?”

You answer an mhmm around his cock and look up at him. From the pale light of the TV screen you can see the sheen of perspiration on his chest and forehead, his mouth open, that plump bottom lip quivering slightly.

He meets your eye as he fucks into your mouth. “Shit, that’s so good, baby, don’t stop – your fucking mouth – ah, god, yeah, keep playing with yourself, good girl.”

Good girl.

Your clit throbs and you let out an involuntary moan, your eyes fluttering shut. Nobody has ever called you a ‘good girl’ before, but Marcus’ ceaseless praise activates a part of your brain you didn't know existed.

You need to make Marcus feel good, and you feel driven to perform well enough to earn that ‘good girl’ from him again. You want to taste and swallow his cum as your reward.

Eyes closed again, you press down and relax your jaw, suppressing your gag reflex around the softer glans as you grip the rock hard base of his cock.

“Fuck, I can feel your throat, baby. You still touching yourself?”

You manage to whimper another mhm and nod slightly before he's hitting the back of your throat again. Your pussy is on fire, already clenching around nothing, desperate to take Marcus’ cock.

“Unh, yeah, don’t stop, I love how turned on you are by this. I can’t wait to taste you too – do you want that? You want my mouth too?”

Moaning your assent, you caress a hand over whatever planes of his body you can reach without breaking rhythm, feeling the muscles in his abs and thighs quiver as he thrusts steadily.

“Oohh fuck, yeah – you're taking me so deep, that’s it, that’s … that’s a good girl.”

There it is again, those two words: good girl. A keening sound comes from your throat in response. Head swimming, you'd swear you're drunk off his cock and his words.

Marcus’ voice is getting more strained, wavering from guttural to breathy. His cock swells in your mouth and your eyes water slightly.

“Fuck, baby, you’re getting me so close. Do you want my cum?”

Whimpering, you use both hands to grasp onto his hips, keeping up the pace with your mouth as his hips stutter.

"I’m so close, where do you want it?” His words are rushed and tense, but you never break your stride, moaning around his cock and making your answer obvious.

“Shit. Here it comes – I’m cu–” Marcus doesn’t get a chance to finish his warning before his cock is pulsing and shooting his cum onto the back of your tongue. Letting out a hoarse cry, he grips reflexively to your face and hair as his orgasm rips through him.

“Ah, ahh, yes, take my cum – so good, so fucking good for me…”

As the last shudders ripple through his muscles, he sighs and strokes your face tenderly while you happily milk the last drops of his cum into your mouth. You can’t help feeling a sense of accomplishment and pride in making Marcus feel so good.

Before either of you can catch your breath, Marcus leans over and captures your mouth in a deep kiss. You both moan as his tongue explores your mouth, tasting himself in every corner.

“That was incredible,” he sighs between kisses. “You’re incredible.”

Marcus kisses up your jaw to your ear and whispers, “I want to make you feel just as good…” He drags the tip of his tongue from earlobe to pulsepoint, then makes you lose nearly all your senses as he sucks and nibbles on the sensitive spot.

Still on your knees, Marcus’ assault on your neck has you arched back until you feel the press of the coffee table behind you. It’s not exactly uncomfortable, but you are positioned awkwardly enough that you cling to Marcus for stability, the muscles in his back broad and firm under your hands.

“Bedroom.” It’s the only word you manage to gasp out.

“Upstairs.” His reply would sound casual if not for the heat in his voice.

“Show me.”

Marcus stands, helping you regain your balance on your feet. He kisses your lips again, then pulls back with a sly grin on his face.

“Say, ‘please.’”

Chapter 10 - Coming Soon!

Additional Author’s Note: Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU for all the lovely comments and reblogs! I can’t tell you how much they mean to me. As always, I would love-love-love to know what you think. I really want to become a better writer, so any and all feedback is welcome! Thank you for reading! 💜

No-Pressure Taglist - I just like making friends!: @kilamonster @half-moon16 @for-a-longlongtime @pedroswife69 @pedroshotwifey @angiewatson @morallyinept @peepawispunk @i-wanna-be-your-muse @marysucks-blog @guelyury @connectioneverywhere @sunshinehaze1 @drewharrisonwriter @venturawriter @survivingandenduring @thetriumphantpanda @umniamusic @itsbrandy @eyeswidecovered @myntyuu @cajuncayenne @kirsteng42 @tupelomiss @jensensational71 @mellymbee @urmomsgnocchi @your-slutty-gf @sinpathyforthedevilish @searchedhighandlo @lizzie-cakes @tkingbacksydney @littlemisspascal @din-jarhead @read-and-wip @thegirlwiththecircus @jessthebaker @rav3n-pascal22 @hotgirlbedtimescenarios @penvisions @lotusbxtch @devineconjuring @ezrasbirdie @perotovar @ilovejavierpena @ozarkthedog @swiftispunk @agentjackdaniels-blog @janaispunk

#rumor has it fic #senorabond writes #rumor has it marcus #saddest boi marcus #lets make him feel better #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal #javi x reader x pike #marcus pike the mentalist #marcus pike fanfiction #marcus pike #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x you

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lalal-99 · 2 months

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of new friendship {h.j.} | track 3

©June 2023, March 2024 by lalal-99

Han Jisung x afab!reader | trope: slice of life, coming of age | word count: 3.8k

Synopsis: The one where you go to a Jackson Wang party.

Check Chapter Overview for complete list of warnings

Note: As promised, this chapter is much shorter than the last. The next will, again, have 6k, but after that, chapters will be shorter (I think). Also, I wrote the most angsty and heartbreaking chapter yesterday and I can't wait to post it when it's due. Hope you enjoy this :)

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Please don't flag as mature or repost this story - Thank You

You couldn’t remember the last party you had been to.

A real party, with crates of alcohol, loud music, and drunk people, that was.

Throughout your early teen years it had been a regular part of your week. Getting drunk, befriending strangers and making mistakes. You left no party within reach unattended, no matter the people or their willingness to provide alcohol to minors. You had figured out ways to always get what you wanted in the end. And what you wanted at that time was to drink away any and every one of your brain cells.

With a little luck it would be the very one that made you remember the grief of losing a parent.

Whenever you told people about those days, it was as an explanation to why you rarely drank now. Most people also thought Jisung had helped you overcome that part of your life. It would have fit right into their version of a romantic love story—girl sad, girl meets boy, boy fixes girl. Happy end.

Most people couldn’t have been more wrong.

Jisung, like yourself, was plagued by his very own share of suffocating pain. And he too wanted to forget, desperately. In meeting you, he found someone who was right as troubled, maybe even more so. Thus, a toxic relationship formed, the two of you soon becoming the life of every party you attended.

Any party you went to, you became the centre of. Be it a friend’s party, a friend’s sibling’s party, or a stranger’s party one of your mutual friends had heard about god-knows-where. Surrounded by a crowd of people, both your age and older, you became the main source of entertainment. Making people laugh and providing them with memories they wouldn’t forget. Because which other two 14-year-olds could keg-stand and funnel like grown-ups?

You weren’t proud of it, but at the same time, it was as much part of your story as everything before and after. The darkest part, filled with pain, rage, and the simple desire to forget, yes. But a part never less.

Those times were long gone; life had caught up to you at some point.

Despite your party-animal-past, a shiver ran down your back when the frat house appeared on the horizon.

People gathered on the porch, on the stairs leading up to it, and on the lawn, smoking, drinking, and making out. Whatever stereotypical frat-party scenario you could have come up with played out right in front of your eyes.

You lingered for a moment, watching the scene unfold. Unsure how to approach the evening or if you even still wanted to. Hadn’t it been for Yuqi taking matters into her own two hands and dragging you inside... Well, you would have turned around and chosen the safety of your room instead.

Your partying days sure had passed.

When you entered the house, a thick veil of warmth and sweat hit you, a breath of nausea taking over your being. A sea of people was stumbling from room to room, up the stairs or towards you, in a desperate search for fresh air. If you planned on staying here for the next few hours, you’d need a drink. Or five.

Yuqi turned towards you, excitement evident on her face, “Wanna look for Jisung?”

“Drinks first!” you yelled back, her nod telling you she had understood. Surprising, seeing someone had cranked the bass right up to 11.

With your hand in hers, Yuqi pulled you through the crowd until you reached the kitchen. It was less crowded than the rest of the house, meaning you had a safe haven you could come to if things got too much. Judging from the tension in your back not even five minutes in, you’d need it at some point.

You didn’t pay too much attention to the people around you. The couple making out on the counter or the group chatting on the other side of the room. Instead, your gaze focused on the beers in the ice-filled sink. A sigh of relief escaped you as the cold, bitter liquid ran down your throat. The first half of the bottle, you emptied in that initial gulp.

You must have needed this more than you noticed.

“Impressive,” Yuqi praised you, her lips wrapping around her own bottle for a less eager sip. “Remind me never to face you in a drink-off.”

“Trust me, my drink-off days are far behind me.”

Your voice startled one of the people standing by the side, a familiar face snapping towards you. “Y/N?”

You found Hwasa leaning against the counter, a surprised expression taking over her features.

“What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” Your roomie had told you she’d be going out tonight too. Although you hadn’t expected her to be at the same party you had been dragged into. Pulling you into a hug, a few of her locks tickled your nose. “Jisung got invited by an old friend.”

“And you brought my new favourite person! Hi!” Hwasa greeted Yuqi with another bone-crushing hug. To an outsider, it must have looked like you hadn’t seen each other for years rather than yesterday.

“Don’t call me your favourite person, or I will cry.”

The smile on Yuqi’s face spread from one ear to the other as she let go of your roommate. After a few shorts hours spent with her, she had opened up to you about how difficult it usually was for her to make friends. Similar to Jisung, her quirky persona more times than not scared people off. Befriending not one but two people within the first week on campus, her happiness was understandable.

“So, who’s the mystery friend that invited you here? Wait, don’t tell me! I’m gonna guess. Is it Chris? He knows, like, everyone.” You shook your head, never having heard that name in your life. Scratching her chin with two perfectly manicured fingernails, Hwasa pondered. “Matthew? He’s been around for a while.” Again, you didn’t know who she was talking about.

This game could have taken forever. There were about 300 people who could have invited you, judging from the crowd inside this house. Though the fun was cut short when the door to the kitchen opened, and a familiar face entered the scene. Just like you remembered, he was followed by a crowd of eager people. Ever the centre of everything.

“No way! Am I dreaming? Y/N! I can’t believe you came.”

You startled when he pulled you into a hug, wrapping your arms around him with reluctance. You hadn’t seen him in over two years, and this was how he decided to greet you? A hug? Thinking about it, you had probably hugged him only a handful of times in your lifetime. Your birthday, maybe. Or Christmas.

“Hi, Jackson.”

He let go of you, momentarily staying in your proximity before stepping back.

He looked good, face clean-shaven and hair pulled back by a baseball cap. His clothes told the same story they always did. Rich guy with swagger, Gucci earrings somehow accentuating his baggy clothing. Jackson, for all you remembered, had always dressed like this. Drenching his aura in handsome.

“How is everyone? How’s the fam?”

“Everyone is perfect. Healthy, happy.”

Despite your best efforts to sound nonchalant, you couldn’t help the undertone of spite. Jackson seemed to understand the secret message, nodding as his lips pressed into a thin line.

You wanted to be nice to him as you were aware he was a good person at heart. But after everything, you couldn’t help being a little bitter still.

Hwasa—oblivious to a fault—interrupted the awkward shift this conversation had taken and you silently thanked the heavens. “You know each other?”

“What? You do, too?” Jackson replied, pointing between the two of you, ever the Spiderman-meme. “How?”

“We’re roommates.”

Emptying your first bottle, you pulled a second one out of the sink, opening it on the marble of the kitchen island. A party trick from back in your heyday you never quite unlearned.

“What? That’s crazy!” Jackson seemed genuinely surprised. He pulled his baseball cap off his head and repositioned it over a few loose strands. “Small world.”

“How about you?” you threw the question back to them.

“We’re—” Jackson cut himself off, eyes meeting Hwasa’s as they toasted their bottles. A quick wink, and he finished his contextually unbelievable description of their relationship. “Friends.”

Hwasa choked on her drink, laughing at his words as if it was the funniest thing she had heard all year. “That’s the understatement of the year.”

You remembered Yuqi, who was leaning against the counter beside you, perfectly quiet as she listened. Probably the quietest you had seen her since you met her. And that included the courses you visited together.

“Fine. We used to hook up. Happy?” Jackson corrected his previous statement. The wink he had sent Hwasa made way more sense now.

“Almost. You seem to have forgotten the part in which you fell hopelessly in love with me.”

Your eyes focused on the two of them. Could Hwasa be the girl? No way! That would have been too big of a coincidence.

“Okay, you are blowing that way out of proportion.” Chuckling at her words, Jackson positioned himself so that he was now facing her. “I had a little crush on you.”

“Exactly. What I said.”

Huffing, Jackson shook his head, pulling Hwasa into a side hug of sorts. Good thing Wheein wasn’t around to witness this flirtatious moment. Her absence explained why Hwasa even let someone come close to her like this. Her girlfriend’s presence seemed to put her a little on edge. Like Hwasa was in constant hope she wouldn’t do something to offend Wheein. Or, God forbid, make her think she was anything but faithful.

“We broke things off, and now—”

“We’re besties,” Hwasa ended his statement, patting his chest as they smiled at each other.

It couldn’t have been silent for more than five seconds before Jackson unwrapped his arm from his bestie. He fetched himself a fresh bottle out of the sink.

“Anyways,” throwing you and Yuqi a kind smile, Jackson turned to his friends. They were still gathered behind him, talking over each other with loud laughter. “It was nice seeing you again. I hope you and Sungie have a great night. Let me know if you need anything.”

Making his way out of the room, he left you to yourselves, sipping on your bottle like you hadn’t just emptied the last one. “Good luck finding him if you need anything. Jackson won’t be in the same room for longer than a minute.”

There was no need to tell you that.

At every party he had ever thrown, Jackson had always been nowhere and everywhere, all at once. You distinctly remembered searching for an hour once before eventually finding him where you had started. How he did it, no idea, but he sure was a pro at it.

“Let me get back to my friends. I’ll see you later?”

Nodding, you turned towards Yuqi, who had about 100 questions dancing on the tip of her tongue. The second you were on your own, she erupted like a waterfall.

“What was that?”

“What was what?” As if she would buy that. There was no way you didn’t know what she was talking about. Your body language had been very see-through throughout that whole interaction. Arms crossed, lips tight, brows cocked.

“Don’t play me, bitch!” A term of endearment, you had learned. “There was so much tension, I thought I was in Riverdale for a sec.”

You laughed at her words, shaking your head. “I don’t really want to talk about it right now.”

“Alright.” Yuqi accepted, but not before getting at least one last statement out in the open. “He’s smoking hot, but whatever he did to you, I would not want to be him.”

The two of you left the kitchen on a seemingly impossible quest to find your boyfriend. You forced your way through the crowd until you reached a less dense section of the room. Only then you noticed a group of people a little further back, right by a window.

You motioned for Yuqi to follow you as you approached the couches. Your boyfriend’s mop of brown hair remained the centre of your vision.

Jisung was deep in conversation with a boy beside him while Felix listened to them. Apart from them, a handful of other boys spread over the couches. The ones that didn’t fit, sat comfortable on chairs. Seeing Jisung in a sea of people he didn’t know, talking like it’s all he was born to do, you almost didn’t want to intrude.

“Bro! Babe Alert!”

The boy next to Jisung was the first to notice you approaching. It took a lot in you to push your amusement at his obliviousness down.

As Jisung’s head followed his friend’s gaze, he gasped out a loud “Yah!” before giving the boy next to him a slap against the bulky arm.

“Dude, that’s my girlfriend.”

“Oops.”

All eyes were on you as you waved at the group. You introduced yourself while sitting on the armrest beside your boyfriend. Yuqi joined your other side, and introduced herself before leaning against you.

“I��m happy you’re here,” Jisung confessed, hand coming to your thigh, squeezing it in adoration.

“You are?”

When you looked at Jisung, you noticed the guy beside him, eyes threatening to bulk out of their sockets. Staring at Yuqi, no less. After a few seconds, he realised he’d been caught and blushed. By pulling Felix into a conversation, he hoped to cover up his interest in your friend.

The girl in question was too deep in her interaction with one of the boys on the chairs to notice. He soon offered her half of his seat, which she accepted while discussing his choice of—footwear? She really seemed to know her way around the closet.

“Yes. Because someone didn’t believe you were real.” Jisung’s eyes darted towards a boy on the other couch whose blonde tresses were pulled into a loose ponytail. “What do you say now, Hyunjin? My hot girlfriend is real.”

“That’s how you describe me to people? Hot?” You didn’t know whether to be mad or flattered.

“Just so we’re clear,” the boy, Hyunjin, chimed in, “it wasn’t the hot part I didn’t believe. It was the whole concept of a girlfriend I was questioning. But you are real, apparently. So I owe Felix ten bucks.”

Laughing at Hyunjin’s cluelessness, your boyfriend couldn’t hide his amusement. “Felix already met her, stupid! You got pranked good, dude.”

Hyunjin’s jaw was on the floor at the new discovery, gaze dramatically cutting to the boy in question.

As the two of them exchanged money and ridicule, you caressed Jisung’s thigh in adoration. A sense of pride filled you at how he had somehow already found a way out of his shell. University seemed to have a positive impact on him, the first week progressing smoother than you had anticipated. Regardless of how he made so many friends this early on, you were glad he did.

“So, who are your friends?”

Gaze wandering through the circle, Jisung introduced the boys one after another. Starting from the one sitting next to Yuqi.

“That’s Seungmin. He’s an English major.”

The boy conversed with Yuqi as though they had known each other for years. He had puppy-brown hair, parted in the middle and cut even on all sides in a fashionable bowl-cut. Two strands of light-blonde framed his face, rounding off an otherwise innocent appearance. His clothes were simple, t-shirt and cargo pants hanging loose on his lean shape.

“Next to him is Jeongin. He’s studying to become—something biology. Honestly, I didn’t understand what he does. It’s all about mitochondria and other boring stuff.”

A little more on the shy side, Jeongin followed Seungmin and Yuqi’s dialogue instead of creating his own. Like Seungmin, he clothed casual. Standing out was his thick pink hair, which contrasted his initial timid demeanour. A something-biology student with pink hair? Very eye-catching.

“On the couch, that’s Hyunjin, Minho and Chris. Hyunjin is studying art history, and Minho majors in dancing. Chris is a Music major.”

Hyunjin, the one who got pranked out of ten bucks—by Felix, out of all people—was clad in a more fashionable outfit. His grey jeans he had paired with a white button-up, a multitude of jewellery decorating his fingers and neck. Minho wore his hair in a lavender tone, a tight-fitting shirt and black leather pants. Showing off his very toned legs—a dancer, indeed. And Chris. Well, he liked his arms the size of logs, apparently. They were an unexpected contrast to his cutesy laugh, nose scrunching up as he joked with Minho.

“And the boy who can’t keep his eyes off Yuqi, that’s Changbin. Sports major. If you tell him your weight, he will send you a video of him benching it.”

“Yah, I don’t do that for just anyone. Consider yourself lucky,” Changbin interjected. Thankfully, he had only overheard the second part of Jisung’s description.

Ignoring his friend’s words, Jisung concluded his introductory round. “And you already know Felix. He’s studying to become the best teacher in the whole wide world.”

Felix ignored the mocking tone in his friend’s voice, only one of the reasons rendering him perfect for a teaching position. He stood calm whenever needed, not a word taken out of proportion. That much you had already learned from hanging out with him a handful of times. It wasn’t hard to believe, he handled children the same way he did his drunk friends.

“I’m glad you have so many friends with majors now. Maybe, they can help you decide on yours.”

Rolling his eyes at the subject you somehow couldn’t let go, Jisung pulled you from the armrest onto his lap. A tiny yelp escaped your throat, his action surprising. The two of you usually didn’t exchange PDA like that. His advances, therefore, you understood as a sign of the amount of alcohol he had already consumed.

“You will never let this go, will you?”

“Not until I know you’re not just going to university because I’m going.”

You had been gifted with so much drive to go to uni, study, become a manager. Sometimes, you forgot that some people weren’t as lucky to know what they wanted to do with their lives. Your boyfriend was one of those people.

Sure Jisung had hobbies like singing, sports and the occasional guitar session. But other than that, he was pretty clueless about his future. The two of you used to joke about it. Kidding how all the ambition and focus had gone to his sister and once he was born, there was nothing left of it. An innocent joke for as long as it hadn’t been reality.

Now that you were here and for the months leading up to your move, the joke was underlined with more seriousness.

For the longest time, Jisung hadn’t been sure he even wanted to go to university. He had debated going to work right away. Learn something handy, like electric work or nursing. That he didn’t even know a direction to go in didn’t make the decision any easier. In the end, he figured that while you were studying to go into management, he might as well join you. If anything, it could potentially give him an overview of possible fields of work.

After many discussions about your joined future and his role in it, he seemed to be over it. He wanted to explore his options—that’s what he had told you when you two enrolled. And yes, you were proud of him for getting his grades up in the last year of High School. Even if only to share this adventure with you. Though you still needed him to be a little more serious about it. Otherwise, university was four years of him exploring, ending in no degree. Four years wasted, in your eyes.

“I just want to make sure you’re thinking about it.”

“Right now, the only thing I’m thinking about, is taking you to one of the empty bedrooms upstairs.”

His breath fanned over your neck as he whispered into your ear. Goosebumps rose all over your skin, his fingers gracing over your exposed hip. You hadn’t even noticed how your shirt had ridden up before his careful touch. Repositioning yourself to sit sideways on his lap, you bit your lip at his suggestion. Your hand came around his neck, fingers running through the hair at the back of it.

“We just got here,” you chuckled as his arms wrapped around your thighs.

“So?”

“Let’s enjoy the party for a bit, yeah?” Jisung knew a final decision when he heard one, a pout overtaking his face. Good thing you had already taken measures to soften the blow. Years of being with each other gave you the confidence to play your plan as you intended. “I might know a way to make the wait worth our while.”

You smirked as you retrieved a round object from your pocket and pushed it into Jisung’s hand on your thigh. A kiss to his cheek concealed your action, his eyes widening once he realised what you had handed him. A remote control. And not just any old remote control. Connecting the dots, Jisung soon understood that it controlled the matching vibrator inside you. The very same one you had bought for his most recent birthday.

Happy Birthday, indeed, and to both of you.

Judging from his expression, you figured your plan to make his patience worthwhile erected the awaited reaction. Then again, that could have also been him pocking you from below.

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theglamorousferal · 4 months

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Update: (kinda)

So I've hit a bit of a roadblock when it comes to The Cryptid fo Smallville, I have the third chapter like 75% done before I hit a block and I have the fourth chapter planned out a bit.

In the meantime, I wrote up a short little thing for a plot bunny that has been rolling around in my head for months now. I had the idea a while ago that what if instead of Danny being Damian's twin, what if it was Sam?

So without further ado, I present the wip of (working title) The Demon's Head Jewels.

Slash, punch, block!

I can feel his eyes on me like a brand.

Slash, slash, punch, kick, block, block!

A slimy feeling following my every move.

Kick, kick, slash, punch, block!

A small boy and girl sparred in an opulent room under the watchful gaze of their grandfather as their mother and instructor stood to the side. Both with hair black as coal, their movements a dangerous dance. Both tanned by the desert sun, though the boy was slightly darker. A trait he inherited from his mother while the girl leaned further toward their father. The girl had cold amethyst eyes. The boy had eyes of gleaming emeralds. Both had sharp, beautiful features.

Dodge, block, slash, punch, kick!

That’s it, I’ve got you now Dami-

Block, block, dodge, dodge, block, slam!

Dammit! Again?!

She was offered a hand, small as her own and similarly wrapped for sparring. She bit back a sigh and took the hand. Once standing, she and her opponent bowed to each other and then to their audience, then, kneeling with heads bowed, waited for their next command. The grandfather huffed like he had expected this outcome. It was several moments before anyone spoke.

“Your training seems to be going satisfactorily I see. I believe it may just be time to add poisons to your repertoire. Now, go wash up, in celebration of today’s achievement, you may rest for the remainder of the day.” The grandfather dismissed the children and rose to leave. The remainder of the party stayed still until he left.

The mother spoke to all still present. “Beginning tomorrow your schedules will be mostly the same except that where before you spent mornings learning and perfecting your martial arts, you will be studying poisons, the afternoons will remain as sparring time so that you do not dull. You are dismissed until the evening meal.” She turned to the instructor to tell him which poisons he should start out with. The children stood and made their way to their personal baths, nothing less is expected of the quarters of the heirs to the Demon Head.

#danny phantom #dpxdc #dp x dc #batman #long post #sam manson #fanfic #damian wayne #ras al ghul #talia al ghul #gods I should be asleep #I wrote most of this high at 2 am

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scullysexual · 3 months

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A Jewel Beneath The Moonlight [Rewrite]

I originally wrote this fic in September and finished it late October 2019. It was one of the first fics I'd ever written for this fandom and it has remained the only multi-chapter fic I ever finished. For years I've been wanting to rewrite this fic, to fix the typos, change the clunky sentences, and include characters I'd introduced but didn't do anything more with. Mostly I want to re-share this fic. It sits at the bottom of my fic list on ao3 and I don't want this fic to be forgotten because it still means a lot to me 5 years on so over the next couple of days I'm gonna go through each chapter and rewrite certain parts. You can read the original on ao3 or you can just read this version. Anyway, this is getting long so Imma shut up now.

@today-in-fic | ao3

Summary: For Mulder, a wealthy English-bred socialite who's had everything given to him since birth, the Titanic is shipping him off to a prison, a life he no longer wishes for or wants. For Scully, an Irish stranger from the lower class, it offers a new life, a future she can truly envision in America. What if the universe put them on the same path to achieve those dreams at the cost of life?

Chapter One.

A cloud of heavy smoke rises from the four vapers, covering the clear sky above and littering it with stuffy grey puffs. People scramble up and down the dock, trying to keep family members together as they rush to get through the gates. Others stand there gawking at the ship. For those not boarding it’s simply a day out; The greatest ship ever built, the paper’s call it and those who live nearby wasn’t about to miss out on such a historic day as this.

Mulder stares at it, surprised at just how wonderstruck he is with it. He never put much stock in the rumours when it was being built, believing that she was just going to turn out as all those before her had. That the rumours were just that- rumours.

But he was wrong. Never in his life had he seen a ship as large as the one that towers over him.

He turns to Phoebe, reaching out for her hand as she climbs out of the cab.

“What do you think?” Mulder asks as he helps his fiancé down. “Do you think she’s impressive?”

To no one’s surprise, Phoebe only scoffs at the ship, its presence not changing her mood in the slightest.

“It’s not as grand as the Mauretania.”

Bill Mulder chuckles behind them, handing their luggage to his man-servant, Krycek as the boy passes them onto a baggage handler.

“It’s much bigger than the Mauretania,” he says, ready to quote every fact he had memorised from the London Herald about the ship. “And much more luxurious,” he adds.

Phoebe only huffs, clearly becoming uninterested in their current conversation.

“Careful Fox,” his father warns him. “Hard one to please, that one.” Mulder only manages an uncomfortable laugh already well aware at the difficulties that come attached to Phoebe Green.

With departure time approaching, they begin to make their way towards the ship, weaving their way through the crowds, Phoebe turning her nose up at every person not dressed to the nines, going as far as to dramatically balk and cover her nose as a lower-class foreigner runs across their path.

“Filthy immigrant,” Phoebe scorns at the innocent man. Mulder tries not to let his disgust show at Phoebe’s words; they are excused after all and Mulder rolls his eyes at the clear disrespect his people show towards those less fortunate.

“He’s just trying to get to the ship, Phoebe.”

“Yes, well, maybe he should hurry to a bath instead.”

Mulder ignores her words, instead guiding her through the swarming crowds.

“Honestly Bill,” Mulder’s mother pipes up. “We couldn’t have arrived here earlier rather than scurrying around the docks like rats?”

“I was all packed and ready to go,” Bill says and indicates to the pair in front of him. “It was those two who weren’t.”

Mulder sighs. If anything, it was Phoebe who they had been waiting for.

“We did try to hurry, Mother. Phoebe couldn’t decide what to wear.”

Phoebe scoffs once more. “It’s not my fault that you told me to change.”

“I just thought you would get too warm wearing black all day.”

“I’m in mourning Fox,” Phoebe cries. “The weather doesn’t change that.”

Mulder resists sighing again. Phoebe had been mourning for weeks now. The loss of their baby had brought on this spontaneous trip. Phoebe, having had enough London and “wanting to get away from all the bad memories” all but demanded that they leave for America as soon as possible. A chance for a new start, she told him afterwards. They could get married here and start again. Next thing Mulder knew, he was packing his bag and going back to a country he hadn’t seen since he was a child.

He felt trapped somehow, and it had nothing to do with the swarms of crowds. This was inside him. A cage or a hole he had put himself in. One he didn’t think he was going to get out of any time soon.

She’s been sitting on this bench for what feels like hours now. The stuffy bar overcrowded with sight-seers only now they’ve done the sight-seeing and only drinking is on their mind.

She was told ten minutes. Ten minutes and they would be looking for a ferry to take them back to Ireland. Dana was done with the place. Southampton was the same as everywhere else in England that they’d been- the same people, the same scorning looks they’d get no matter where they go, the same rejections. It’s only a number of times a person can hear ‘no’ before they never want to hear the word again.

Her brother, however, had other ideas. They only came into the bar to ask if there were any ferries available to take them home and somehow Charlie had managed to be roped into a game of poker by a bunch of Norwegians who spoke very little English between them.

The game had currently been going on for a lot longer than the ‘ten minutes’ she was promised.

Dana sighs, shifting in her seat to get comfortable. She’d order a drink if Charlie wasn’t currently gambling away their last penny.

“You lonely, love?” Dana turns towards the speaker. His cockney accent thickened by the slurring of his words. “Ye want sum comp’ny?”

He stumbles towards her, catching himself on the rickety table and smiles at his clumsiness. Dana attempts to shuffle further back into the bench, failing.

“I’m fine,” she says turning away and hoping the man would take the hint.

But he presses on.

“Are ye sure?”

“Aye. I’m sure.” She gets up before the man can say or do anything else, and heads over to Charlie’s table.

Her brother is in full concentration mode. Lip caught between his teeth, eyes scanning his cards and the card laying down on the table. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. Countless of times Dana has watched him play, never learning from the mistakes he’s made in previous games. This gambling addiction he’s seemed to have developed has cost them a lot in the finance department, a cost that Dana is not too happy about.

She taps him on the shoulder.

“Charlie, I want to go.”

“Hold on a second…”

His tongue replacing his lip, Charlie gives one nervous glance around at his fellow players.

“Charlie, we need to go.” She tries not to sound like she’s whining, he’s her younger brother for God’s sake, a child, she shouldn’t have to whine.

Charlie ignores her, a smile breaking out across his face.

“I’m sorry, lads.” He places his cards on the table, his smile turning cocky as he reaches over to take his earnings. Dana spies two pieces of paper laying on top of the money.

A large hand grasps Charlie’s. His grin falls as he stares in fear at the man.

“He cheat!” The man yells. With his hand still firmly wrapped around Charlie’s arm, he yanks him forward across the table, his other hand a fist that falls down and smashes straight into his face.

“Charlie!” Dana yells as his body falls slump against the oak. The man backs off as the bar grows quiet, ignoring the winnings that fall onto the floor.

With all concern for her brother, Dana rushes to his side, her hand falling on his face, wiping away the blood that drips down from his wound. You fucking idiot…she thinks.

Charlie’s eyes open slowly, despite the pain he is grinning from ear to ear.

“I won, Dana,” he tells her gleefully. “We’re going to America.”

Dana frowns, bewildered for the moment at what Charlie could possibly be talking about until her eyes fall on those two pieces of paper that lay on the ground. Realisation sets in and she reaches down to pick them up, turning them over to read.

The words White Star Line stare back at her. She looks from the paper in her hand to the ship outside and back to Charlie.

“You’re…you’re not serious?” she asks in awe.

“Yep. Fucker put his ticket down as payment,” Charlie all but shouts still grinning.

Dana stares back at the ticket. She was really about to go to America, the Titanic being the ship to take her there.

“You’re gonna wanna be quick,” a man beside them tells them. He points to his clock on the wall. “Boat leaves in ten minutes.”

At that, Charlie hauls himself off the table as the two siblings begin pushing what money remains on the table into their only bag, not caring for the coins that had fallen onto the floor.

“Hurry up!” Charlie urges her as Dana ties up the bag. “Come on, come on.” He takes the bag throwing it over his shoulder and grabs his sister’s hand, dragging her out of the bar.

They weave their way through the people, Charlie up front and Dana falling slightly behind. She fists her skirt in her palms, pulling it up so as not to trip over it, keeping her eye on Charlie ahead of her and praying she doesn’t lose him.

They collide with everything; people, a cart selling vegetables, a horse and carriage until finally they make it, out of breath, and clutching at their tickets.

“Tickets?,” the crewman orders, his fingers making a grabby motion. They hand them over and snatches it out of their hands. His nose turns up when he reads the names.

“Leif and Ingrid Brevik?” he asks, sceptically.

Dana looks nervously at Charlie, worried that they had just got excited for their new futures only to be turned away at the doors once more.

“Aye, we’re Americans.” Charlie tells him doing nothing to mask his thick Irish accent.

The crewman gives once last glance at the ticket and them. Sighing and probably done dealing with steerage who’s English is minimal he accepts the tickets.

“Get in before I change my mind.”

Relieved, the pair rush in just as the crewman shuts the door.

They make their way down the crowded corridor. People stand looking at the various signs that point in directions of rooms, bathrooms, and general communal areas. They argue, an overload of different words muddled together to make one distorted language.

Dana isn’t paying attention, however. Her eyes switch from the number written down on the ticket to the numbers written on the doors either side of them. Charlie had gotten distracted, eyeing up every woman that they walked past and Dana had finally ripped the paper out of his hands. If he wasn’t going to find their room, she will.

She finds it eventually. 23, near the end of the corridor. Charlie eyes up Room 24.

“Reckon a lass lives in there?” he asks.

Dana focuses on unlocking the door, a sly grin appearing on her face.

“I hope it’s a fat old man with a foot infection.” She looks up only to see the look of disgust appear across her brother’s face and she laughs, gaining the reaction she was looking for.

The door opens to their room. A single bunkbed, a desk and chair with a lamp set upon it, and a chest of drawers are the only furniture that occupy the room.

Charlie shares her sentiments exactly: it’s perfect.

“Beats the cargo hold on a ferry.” He throws the bag onto the chair and proceeds to climb to the top bunk.

She stops him before he can claim it.

“Piss off, I get top bunk.” She grips the back of his shirt, yanking him off the ladder.

“Careful!” Charlie cries. “I’m already injured.”

“So move out the way before I injured you even more.”

He does as he’s told, not without pulling a face beforehand, and throws himself on the bottom bunk.

Dana lies down, thankful to be in a bed that actually feels like a bed and not a brick.

“Hey, Dana?” Charlie calls after a moment of silence.

“Yeah?”

“Are you worried?”

Dana thinks for a second, curious as to what Charlie thinks she should be worried about.

“About what?” she asks.

Silence passes and she waits for an answer.

“Nothing,” Charlie says. “It’s nothing. We got nothing to be worried about.”

Despite being profoundly confused, Dana decides not to push it.

Another bout of silence passes and perhaps Charlie’s fallen asleep. At least that’s what she assumes until she hears his voice again.

“Hey, Dana?”

“What?”

“Do you still have that first-aid kit in the bag? My face is throbbing.”

A pack flops onto the floor beside his bed.

“Cheers.”

#the x-files #the x files #txf fic #xfiles fanfiction #titanic au #a jewel beneath the moonlight rewrite #scullysexualwrites

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cerealandchoccymilk · 11 months

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Trigun Bookclub: Trigun Vol.1, Chapter #02

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Continuation of my Trigun annotation for the book club. I'm doing a deep-read of the Japanese original print (reread) and Overhaul 1.0 (first read) side-by-side, and writing down everything I notice from small details, version differences, translation differences, etc. (and being gay about the characters <3 always important)

Here are the beloved non-analysis sillies...

And the rest is under the cut. read my notes boy!!

[link for if the images aren't in horizontal rows]

The second page has an error - 悪夢 was probably misread as 悪魔 ("happen" and "awaken" are also the same kanji). It should be "Then, the nightmare occurred." It's really cool that this still works really well considering...y'know (not saying for the first-time readers ;) )

I just love how that drawing of Vash is so cool and serious...

...and then you turn the page and he's in the most pathetic cunty pussy-out pose you've ever seen. Easily one of my favorite panels. Also made a math question for funsies. sorry to anyone who got high school flashbacks, but I absolutely loved trigonometry lmao. I could do this forever.

A little pun(?) that may or may not be intentional - In Japanese, someone with a bounty on their head is called 賞金首, lit. "bounty neck" ("neck" sometimes signifies the entire head). The locals call out for the bounty-neck right as Vash hurt his neck lol

I love how creepy Vash moves sometimes. absolute cryptid

This is entirely a Japanese-only detail, but I really loved how Vash said バヤイ (bayai) in the sobbing in French line, because my mom also says that instead of 場合 (baai) when she's being silly lmao. Also, it's notable that in Japanese, Vash says フランセ語 ("Francé-go," where "go" is the suffix for languages) which may be either another miles->iles/double-dollar situation, or just him speaking silly like バヤイ.

Also, the line after that would more accurately be "How am I supposed to deal with all these locals?"

Here, the "Really?" is actually Meryl saying something like "I'll give you a hint."

Meryl tends to be the one responsible for the braincell in fanworks but it's important to remember that she absolutely is dumb too (affectionate).

I'm so glad I wrote that reminder about Meryl's speech, but I don't think I'll be able to do it justice here when I have so much more to talk about. I'll have to write another post later, so I'll link it when it's done. The gist is that she talks like a stereotypical high-class anime girl, and the trope is from how a similar demographic in Meiji-era Japan actually spoke.

The boy's pussy faces the world yet again. I love all the faces he makes!! look at him!!!!!!!!!!! he's so cute

The text on the board here was very messy and squished, but it says something like "Vash the Stampede Absolute Capture Task Force Headquarters." Honestly don't know how to fit all that into the board though so uh good luck on that for 2.0... Also dear god Vash has so much energy... He's just been running for 3 hours straight...!!

Fun fact: the equivalent idiom to "fight fire with fire" in Japanese is "use poison on poison."

Love how Nebraska is just like "no we didn't jailbreak, we just let ourselves out :/"

Translation error for Milly and the chairman - Milly is saying "Why do things keep getting worse and worse!?" and the chairman is mumbling "What's the deal with you two..."

Showing some love for his pretty pretty eyes..........(gives him so many smooches in my head)("i can imagine anything" image)(can't add it because i reached the 30 image limit)

The "Freeze!" is actually untranslated, just re-typed to match the surrounding font. Also, that panel is the first time Vash's antennae is shown bent!! It goes back up immediately after that though.

Fun fact #2. Vash says ara ara. if you even care.

This line never fails to hit me hard. They're all desperate mothers and sisters, and they're taking on the bad role because nothing's more important than their dear children. (reminds me of a certain someone...)

I've seen someone mention this before, but Trimax definitely adjusted the number of plants. Fifty!?!? Also, in Japanese, "plants" and "died" were in quotations.

I love the gun pull in the right panel. Vash obviously definitely doesn't intend on shooting, but is rather showing off his skill and resolve as an intimidation tactic to throw the girls off-guard.

God this entire spread is just so RAW.... (here's the post that's mentioned in blue. it just reminded me)

Some more hypes and sillies. The impact that "KISS MY ASS!!" had on my first read was phenomenal!! It's so silly!! and cool!!!

And then there's this!! Another favorite part of mine. Vash's antennae are bent again! They kind of alternate between straight and bent from here.

The green writing about the onomatopoea are more of just a translation note rather than a suggestion. I can't think of any good beckoning noises in English :V

And finally, Milly calls "Mr. Bomb" "Bomb-kun" in Japanese which I think yall would enjoy lol. And happy strangling her saturday tuesday.

The Japanese version of the annotations are in the reblogs, if anyone wants them.

I have Chapter #03 mostly ready, so I'll probably post it tomorrow morning and try to speedrun the rest of the chapters because this is taking longer than I expected!! God there's just so much to say!! (Also gotta remember to write about Meryl's speech!!)

And thank yall so much for the feedback on the Chapters #00-01 post!! I didn't know so many people were interested in such small details!! Love (and peace) yall 🫶🤞

#bing bing bauuuu bam bam bada bam baba bom bom bauuuuuuuuu (wh- wh- wh- wh- what's going on? on?) du du dududu dudu du du dududu d #trigunbookclub #trigun annotation #trigun #trigun manga

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whatgaviiformes · 8 months

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i'm absolutely windswept

I started Thunderteers in May of 2019. I remember very distinctly being out to dinner with Hubs, coordinating the AU concept almost entirely for a long, epic first story. We were at a Chili's and I had my usual indecisive platter of appetizers as my meal. As of today there's only been 3 chapters of what mapped out that day. Some of it made it to paper. I've never been great at those long epics - I love reading them, but my writing brain is most solid with the 1K-6K word length.

So I started building the world with fic. I wrote about Virgil playing the violin, and how he made music. I explored Gordon's accident, and what it could've happened in place of a hydrofoil. I reached for Military!Bros instead of my usual FishTank, and explored the truth behind legends. I forced myself to make and break OCs, spent way too much time researching when songs were created, recipes of the time, if certain animals were classified the same way, and what name a city may have had in 1774.

Other things I decided not to research at all.

Above all that, before I posted a new story or fic, I asked myself if the imagery was there, and was it something I was proud of? Because I knew - the only way I could get others to set sail with me, was to make sure I was taking you on the journey. Not if it was historically accurate, but does this feel like our boys, and are they interacting with the environment in a way that feels like it would still be them? Is it possible to still see Gordon? Still see Scott?

That was my first AU.

Naturally, in asking myself this, I've had different images in my head all this time, and I was lucky enough this month to have the chance to ask the amazing @chenria to bring one of them to life for me. You can find the post below:

Sailor Gordon by Chenria.

Go like it, reblog it, send her support, consider joining her patreon if you can. She knocked it out of the park, and in so doing - inspired me along the way.

If you decide to read Thunderteers, just know - it's not always beautiful.

But this one - it's all love and heart. I've written the snippet for Windswept as a thank you to chenria's amazing work, to everyone who puts up with my reblogging posts for the age of sail (#ships ships ships) or who tag me in things to see, or have Wellerman living rent free in their heads and let me play along. Thanks to those that have read the story, maybe cried along, or sent me words of encouragement.

Thank you for letting me experiment with language and story, and sometimes - when I get really lucky- for the words I've written to matter to you.

*****

Windswept (~500 words)

As far as clouds go, Gordon is among the strangest. The wind tugs at his clothing, hanging loose and informally on his silhouette, and at his hair where he stands aloft amidst the sails. The seabirds close to shore weave their dance between the ropes above, circling him curiously. Even though his form is strange to them, he’s not unwelcome in their home in the air. If anything, he’s just a part of the flying clouds that make up the rigging of their ship.

The gulls’ calls sound like laughter, and he smiles with them. The birds will accompany the ship for a time, darting towards the quick meal at the bow where the front of the ship often disturbs the sea life below. If the voyage is to be a lucky one, they’ll grace the wood of the ship with a gift or two that’ll be left to wash away only with the next rain.

Gordon can feel the sway of the ship stronger from above; though with the Thunderbird still anchored close to shore, the waves are gentle as they lap against her firm hull. The movement is a tease for the voyage ahead, as Gordon has always found himself more comfortable in their journeys out to sea than he’s ever felt in his tentative steps on land. The ship has watched him grow and come of age, from awkward limbs racing up the rigging, to strong shoulders heaving her lines and helming her wheel. She’s given him the freedom to roam, to explore lands and seas unknown, and even with the thrill of adventure, Gordon feels most safe in the comfort of her embrace. If that isn’t a home, he doesn’t know what else is.

He knows her in the early morn - the way the sunrise paints cotton and how the mist tingles at the fuzz on his arms at the start of his shift. He knows the echo of their shanties within her oak beams, and the squeak of her joy when the creatures of the sea ride along with her bow waves upon them really catching the wind and when the tang of citrus remains on his tongue from breaking fast.

He knows her in the rain, the smell of wood and cotton when burdened with wet from above as well as below, the crackle of lightning in its brief and staggered illumination of her flags. He knows her in the cold, when the puff of his breath is visible and the wind cuts into his skin. Among whales, massive and elegant as they groan their song into her hull.

He knows her in the evening – Virgil and John’s cooking and their different nuances for flavor and spice, the vibrato of Virgil’s violin paired with the warm timbre of the Scott’s cello pulsing along her foundations. The way she creaks below Alan’s eager footsteps. He knows the soft glow around flame-lit lanterns in the darkest of night and the hush of melodies uttered in multiple languages up towards twinkling stars. The way his hammock rocks him to sleep with her movement.

He knows her in both fair winds and motionless skies, in the brightest of sunlit days and the most cloud-covered of nights. Through doldrums, archipelagos, and the far reaches of the seas, and along coastlines, he knows her.

And his soul trembles just as she does, her unfurled sails shuddering in anticipation of catching the wind.

TBC..?

#gavii scribit #privateers!AU #thunderteers #there might be more to this moment eventually but for now a small snippet of a scene

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mushroom-snake-coding · 4 days

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The Human Friend: Mr. Teal Eyes

Part 4

Does anyone ever wonder if Sophie had a friend in the human world? It never mentions anyone in the books… but I wrote something where she would meet a human friend.

(Hey guys, this is going to be an epic chapter. This is less human, being honest. But that’s what makes it so exciting. Read parts 1, 2, and 3 if you haven’t. I’ll try posting those on some way they are more easily accessible.)

“MISS FOSTER!” Mr. Sweeney’s annoying voice rang out throughout the room as he pulled out Sophie’s earbuds. “Have you decided that you’re too smart to pay attention to this information?”

Yikes, he didn’t need to embarrass Sophie for just some earbuds. Pri would wear her headphones, too, if they weren’t so visible. It was so loud here, and the stupid lights weren’t helping. But, Sophie was needing a bit more help, right now. Pri and stood closer to Sophie. Mr. Sweeney didn’t notice as he was too distracted in berating Sophie.

Pri had noticed teachers were meaner to Sophie. Most people seemed to hate her, probably because they were jealous. Pri partially understood why they would be. The way Sophie talked about the Lambeosaurus, like she was a scientist at like Harvard or something, Pri was a bit jealous too.

But she got past those feelings after a year of friendship with Sophie. From being partners in AP Environmental to being friends throughout the rest of high school, they were inseparable.

However, that wouldn’t last long. Sophie was going to college next year. Pri was still surprised that Sophie was offered a full Scholarship from freaking Yale. Although, Sophie rejected because neither her nor her parents needed the attention.

But anyway, Pri was a Junior while her friend was a Senior, so this would be their last year together. The two were going to make the most of it, so they applied for the same class. (Sophie needed the science credit, while Pri needed an Elective credit.) The only bad part about their plan is that it included Mr. Sweeney, and some annoying classmates.

“Nice job, superfreak,” Garwin Chang—a boy with no sense of insults—sneered as he shoved past them. “Maybe they’ll write another article about you. ‘Child Prodigy Teaches Class about the Lame-o-saurus.’”Seriously, this guy needs to figure out some better insults, not that Pri wanted him to insult Sophie, but dang is he bad at that.

Sophie looked slightly amused, as if she could read Pri’s thoughts. Pri loved that Sophie was so good at reading her like that. Talking wasn’t necessary to get her point across, when she was with Sophie.

“Hey Soph, do you wanna go look at the cool crystals, instead of worrying about him?” Pri asked, having a very avid interest in minerals. Sophie looked like she was about to say yes, but then she was staring at someone behind Pri.

A tall, dark-haired boy who was reading the article about Sophie. It was from when Sophie rejecting Yale. She and her parents werd upset about it, and Pri would be too, with the invasion of privacy. Suddenly, the boy looked up at Sophie. And before they knew it, he was right next to them.

“Is this you?” he asked Sophie. He looked around fifteen, maybe sixteen, or Pri was just incredibly short so that could be why she thought so. His voice was kind of weird though, like British, maybe? It had to be somewhere in Europe. He also looked… weirdly perfect. Like, not that Pri liked this guy, but he looked a bit too good for a teenager. Also what was the weirdest part were his teal eyes. Like these were full on teal, must be some cool contact lenses.

Pri zoned out a bit so she didn’t hear most of the conversation. Both of them seemed fine ignoring her existence. Rude, okay. They were talking about dinosaurs, now. This dude was talking about how the dinosaur nearby was an “absurd” depiction. Well not that Pri knew for sure what dinosaurs looked like, but how could this guy think it’s weird, when it’s the literal thing they always depicted as dinosaurs. And also, she hasn’t heard many people say the word “absurd”. He was strange.

A bunch of kindergarteners walked in, and they were LOUD. Pri covered her ears, and quickly put the headphones that rested on her neck onto her head. She looked at Sophie and the boy who were both rubbing their temples. Yeah, kindergarteners were loud. Pri understood that. But Sophie and the boy were staring at each other, weirdly. Their voices were now whispers, but Pri still heard them. Her headphones weren’t the best quality not going to lie.

“Did you…hear that?” the boy asked. Sophie paused.

“Who are you?” she finally asked.

“You did—didn’t you?” the boy leaned a bit closer to Sophie, looking like he only wanted her to hear. And he was almost successful, except Pri heard the last part. “….Telepath?”

Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait WHAT? Was he asking if Sophie was a telepath??? No, that’s crazy. He’s crazy. Those were only things for superheroes or something. Though, Sophie looked very wobbly. Pri put a hand on her shoulder, to steady her. Sophie did not look good.

“It’s okay Sophie. I’m here to help you. We’ve been looking for you for twelve—”

“SHUT UP!” Pri yelled as Sophie looked like she was about to vomit.

Suddenly, Sophie jerked away and ran outside. Pri ran after her. The boy also chased them, but Pri wasn’t focused on him. She was more worried about her friend, who ran through the courtyard, past the fountain, right in the middle of the street.

Pri stopped on the sidewalk, watching in horror. What Sophie hadn’t noticed was a car headed straight for her.

Quickly, the car swerved, hitting a streetlights . The sound was so loud. Pri’s relief didn’t last long when the streetlight was about to fall on Sophie. Then there was dust.

The dust cleared, and Sophie was frozen, holding the light up with… TELEKINESIS???? Pri just stood there in shock. The light suddenly dropped and the boy yanked Sophie out of the way. They said some words Pri was too shocked to process, and they both glanced at her and the driver of the car, then ran.

Pri snapped out of her shocked state and followed them. They didn’t notice. She wanted to see what was going on with her friend and this…mystery boy.

They were in the San Diego Zoo parking lot. Pri hid behind some cars and went into her listening-focus mode. This guy was trying to convince Sophie that she was an elf, and that it is apparently weird to have brown eyes. Also, Pri could have sworn this dude disappeared for a second, but it was probably just her.

But then, something shocking happened. The boy held out a thing, a familiar thing. Last fall break, Pri went to Mr. Forkle’s, Sophie’s nosy neighbor’s, house. She never told Sophie but she stole a pen, or at least what she thought was a pen, at the time. After going home that day, Pri tried to write with it, but there was no tip. Pri assumed it was broken, but kept it in a drawer because it was pretty, plus she really liked crystals, which it had on the end.

The boy had the exact same thing. Where did he buy it? Pri stared at them. The boy was saying something about concentrating and how it’s important. Then he held up the… pen-thing to the light. A beam glowed out of it. That was kinda neat. He took Sophie’s hand and stepped into the light.

THEY WERE GONE!!!! THEY TURNED INTO FREAKING PARTICLES AND WERE GONE. Pri froze. Where the hell did they go? Pri tried to stand where they stood, but it didn’t work… they left.

The smoke from the recent fires must have been getting to Pri. No way, they could have done that… and she realized she was going to be in a lot of trouble if Mr. Sweeney realized she was not in the museum. Still, in shock, she walked back to the museum, where they were already loading onto the bus. Sophie wasn’t there.

The rest of the day was a blur. Her mind was filled with questions. How did they disappear like that? How did Sophie hold the streetlight? Could Sophie… read minds? It was crazy… but it would explain a lot: how Pri could barely lie, how Sophie always got along, and her constant headaches.

If that were true, could Sophie hear all the thoughts her mind came up with, all the initial jealousy or weird thoughts? Did she hate her? No… Pri was supposed to be getting better at this. Sophie stayed friends with her for a year. But, Sophie always had headaches. And thoughts weren’t anything you could block with headphones, they were constant. Was Pri the cause of Sophie’s constant headaches? What if she was? What if Sophie didn’t like being around her? What if being around her was painful?

These thoughts continued on the way home. As she went through the door. She saw her dad in his office. He worked from home, on his computer. He greeted her.

“Hey baby, how was school?” Pri was still in a bit of a dazed state.

“Good, it was fine.” Pri simply replied.

“Okay, I’m going to pick Arjun up from tutoring. Are you coming?”

“No.” Pri responded, “I have homework.” Arjun was Pri’s brother. He had tutoring for ELA after school each day. Pri understood why, ELA was hard. But she definitely had other things to think about.

She heard her mom’s car come in. And the door from the garage opened, making that distinct squeaky sound. Her mom was in her company’s shirt, with a lanyard around her neck, and the perfume she miraculously kept fresh all day.

“Hey babes.” her mom kissed her cheek. “How was school?”

“Good,” Pri again responded, “we had a field trip.”

“Oh yeah, was the museum good? I know you love crystals.”

“Yeah, the minerals were cool.”

Her mom then went to kiss her dad. Pri went upstairs. She searched her drawers hastily. The pen-thing had to be around here somewhere. Surprisingly, it was right where she left it. That was a first. She never thought she could keep something in place for more than a year.

She held it up, the same way the boy did, and sure enough there was a beam of light. Pri stumbled back. That was weird but kinda cool. She had now made a plan to try to step into the light. But she would have to do this carefully because she didn’t know what was on the other side.

She remembered what the boy said about blue eyes. She had some contact lenses somewhere. It was for a Halloween costume a while back. She found them in one of her drawers. She washed her hands and put a drop of the contact lenses solution on each. Then, she inserted them.

She then held out the pen-thing. She remembered his repeated warnings for Sophie to concentrate. Pri didn’t know exactly what to concentrate on, so she tried to concentrate on herself. The pen-thing did its beam, and she stepped into the light.

———————————————————————

Now i hope you all liked that. This one took me a bit more time to make since I kind of got ahead of myself. I kept picturing all the writing that would come after this, instead of this moment itself. There was definitely a lot of back and forth. But it is written and I am very excited to write the next part. I don’t have much of a plan after this, but I will continue, until I find a satisfying conclusion.

And no, I don’t have a sibling named Arjun, if you are wondering.. Arjun was the first Indian-boy-name I thought of. (Though I may know an Arjun irl. I don’t remember). No, Pri did not pay attention to Fitz’s name. Or what the pathfinder was called. And yes, minerals are cool. (Yes there is a difference between minerals and crystals. Pri likes studying minerals, but she refers to them as crystals because that’s what other people think are cool. And it’s not technically wrong, a crystal is a part of a mineral.)

So far here’s my next title. (Also these will all probably be in Pri’s pov)

The New Cities

Sophie’s secret buddy

Hope you all have a fabulous day. ❤️

#kotlc sophie #kotlc #fanfic #sophie foster #the-human-friend

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abiiors · 8 months

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Uhm the boy next door Matty fic???!! Give it to me now

i can give you the rough first draft of the first chapter babe, that's all i wrote and then never looked back haha. idek why!!

“Your package is out for delivery.” That’s what the latest email on her phone says.

It’s not like she has no other work to do and yet she can’t help but refresh and refresh her email some more for any other updates because that email is four hours old and her package is not here yet! She huffs a bit and loudly curses the delivery company.

This is an important package, goddamnit! Plus there are the nerves…

Because she doesn’t know how much she can trust the promises of a “discrete packaging.”

She already has a whole tongue-lashing ready for her best friend.

‘Get a tiny pink bullet for yourself,’ Beth had said and then closed her eyes in delight, ‘especially the two-in-ones.’

She had to slap Beth’s thigh before the conversation became any lewder but the thought was stuck. And no matter how hard she tried, she could not get it to go away…

Especially with the thoughts of her neighbour—

No!

She will not think of that obnoxious boy, she will not think about his wild, messy curls and certainly not about his cheeky smile. She will not think about his sweaty tank top sticking to his body and how his stupid tattoos stand out against his stupid, toned arms. She will not think of Matt–whatever his name is!

She huffs and refreshes the email again. And jumps when she sees a new email has come through; literally one second ago.

“Your package has been delivered. Thank you for choosing Lovehoney.”

Wait, what?

She stills in place, waiting to hear the shuffle of footsteps outside her front door. Did she just miss someone ringing her doorbell? Did this person just knock and leave the package outside? Feeling like a lunatic for hyper-focusing on this one thing, she chucks her phone aside on the bed. Maybe the email was a mistake, maybe she should just wait for another hour or two and then launch into calling customer service.

A tiny part of her brain tells her that this is exactly why Beth asked her to buy a toy for herself…so she can chill. And now look at her…stressing about the one thing that’s supposed to relax her.

“You suck!” she types on her phone petulantly. A text to her best friend. But she knows Beth will call her and laugh at her for five minutes straight if she found out.

Rather maturely, she sticks her tongue out at her phone and flops on her bed again.

Why couldn’t she have had a busy day today of all days? Unconsciously, her hand drifts lower, toying with the strings of her shorts now. She’s not even particularly needy or turned on; just bored. And her mind is clearly occupied with one thing…

The thin cotton tank top she’s wearing does nothing to hide her hardening nipples. As her fingers touch and tease; the insides of her thighs, around her belly button, right under the waistband, she finds her thoughts drifting to the boy again.

He’s hardly a boy; he looks like he’s the same age as her, and yet she can’t help but think of him as the boy with his boyish grins and open flirting. She’s sure she has heard him trying to flirt with their 60 year old mailman before.

She remembers his voice; smooth and sweet like honey, full of laughter. She remembers the damp, sweaty curls that fell in his eyes. His eyes…

Her fingers dip lower, almost touching the bundle of nerves, one hand touching her nipples as her toes curl into the mattress.

Why is she even thinking about him? She should be thinking about one of her other crushes. She should be thinking about Pedro Pascal or Oscar Isaac or one of the several other men she has watched thirsty edits of. Instead, her thoughts linger on messy curls and sparkling brown eyes.

Her face flushes deep and hot at the first brush of her fingers. So what if stupid Lovehoney doesn’t deliver? She’s perfectly capable of getting herself off, she’s not that desp—

She almost jumps out of her skin when the bell rings.

Her heart thuds in her chest so hard that it almost crawls out of her throat. Fuck! She has to clutch her chest to steady herself a bit, fuck, fuck, fuck!

Deep breaths…

One, two, three…

Another deep breath…

There we go…

The bell rings again and she glares in the general direction. First, they’re late and now they can’t even be bothered to be patient? Muttering to herself like an old witch, she stomps towards the door.

‘Couldn’t even give me two minutes?’ she opens the door hard enough to make the hinges creak. And then stops in her tracks.

It’s not a delivery person. It’s the boy. Looking at her with all the interest in the world.

He’s simply dressed in a plain black t-shirt and grey sweatpants. The slut uniform, she thinks darkly. But she can’t help the way her eyes linger on how snugly the t-shirt fits. In return he does the same; shamelessly lets his eyes run all over her body. And suddenly she’s hyperaware of how she looks.

Hardened nipples poking out from under the tank top, face flushed and hair messy, the strings to her shorts are no doubt undone. She defensively crosses her arms over her chest and juts her chin up at him. Nothing but haughtiness and challenge.

‘What do you want?’

Fuck, why is her voice so breathless now of all times?! And that’s when she sees it, the plain brown box in his hands.

‘This was delivered to me,’ he smirks and then proceeds to read out her full name off of the box. ‘Yours, I’m guessing?’

She tries her hardest not to snatch the box out of his hands because the longer it’s in his hands, the longer her brain tries to remind her of what—who—she was thinking about two minutes ago, the longer she has to actively refrain from dwelling on him saying her name. So she makes a show of tapping her foot impatiently and holds out her hand.

It’s painful to just stand there and not thank him but she will not feed into his arrogance! She simply refuses.

The boy shrugs his shoulders and gives her another once over. Then places the box in her waiting hands. ‘Looks like you don’t need it to get the party started though.’

Her jaw drops to the floor as incredulity floods her body. The sheer AUDACITY!

The boy simply presents her with a mocking little bow and turns on his heels. Then he strolls away like he owns the place.

And she remains standing at her front door, speechless and fuming, trying not to stare at his arguably cute butt.

#✉️#♤: matty blurbs #matty healy #mathilda #this was written so long ago. i am cringing a little bit ugh #anyway yeah #matty healy x reader #matty healy x you #boy next door

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inthewindandinthewater · 6 months

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Day Glow

A/n: Oops, I wrote this instead of another chapter of A Plain of Stars, I'm sorry but I'm having a bit of a block right now. Anyway, in the mean time have this Drabble with old boy James. I thought it was cute, definitely a good piece to hopefully rebuild some confidence in myself and get back to writing the real stuff. Hope you enjoy.

(I listened to 'Oh My Love' by John Lennon and 'Here Comes Your Man' by The Pixies while writing this)

⋆⋆⋆☆✦☆☆✭☆☆✦☆☆✭☆☆✦☆⋆⋆⋆

Day Glow

The stunning glow that bathes a room in the early morning.

That’s what it felt like, if anyone asked you that’s what you’d say. First light.

First light after a hot sticky night, one where your covers don’t lay right and you don’t find a comfortable place to set your arms. That soft morning glow accompanied by singing burns and long, languid stretches. The feeling of that first sip of water hitting your throat after not allowing yourself respite from the cottony feeling at the back of your pallet. Fresh clothes, a hot shower, a hairbrush.

That’s what it felt like to fall in love with James, a breath of fresh air and the feeling of sun on your skin. He was bright and bursting with it, and all too happy to bathe you in the same incandescence.

He never second guessed it, the pull he felt to you. He saw you that day; head hung low over a book, hair falling into your eyes as you fell deeper into the word on those ink soaked pages. Maybe it was the look in your eyes or the way the pale blue shirt you were wearing seemed to bring out all the right colors in you. It didn’t matter, he was taken with you and James was never one to let something go so easily.

He was capable of learning, and as such took a gentle approach to coaxing you out of your shell and into his awaiting arms. First a request for help on his homework, then sitting next to you in class, for academic reasons of course. He’d ask little questions about your books and your family, nodding in rapt interest, eyes glued to the captivating way your lips formed the words.

He could only be so subtle, it was never his specialty but he’s giving it his all. That’s what made give him the time of day, anyone could see how hard he was trying to be someone you might spend your time on.

During a particularly chilling trip to Hogsmeade you found yourself toe to toe with your biggest fan. Stumbling none too elegantly into one another with the grace of a baby elephant confronted with a large mouse. You stared up at him, making up for all his forced subtlety with a brasen gape. His nose and cheeks were tipped pink and his wild hair stuck up in that frustratingly sleep tousled way that had you longing to card your fingers through it. One corner of his rosie pink lips quirked up in boyish smirk, you knew you were a goner, but you hadn’t guessed it’d be this bad.

That was the beginning of a short road to a long honeymoon phase, one that faded into a comfortable relationship which continues to feel like the first peaks of the sun through your apartment windows. The very windows that made you and James choose this apartment over the one closer to London, they were french panes and you loved them almost as much as the boy sleeping next to.

You roll over, taring your gaze away from the windows to face James’ sleeping face. Your hand moves of its own accord to make the very movement you longed to all those years ago in front of Honeydukes. His black curls only fluffed into a larger mess as you ran your finger through them, scratching lightly at his scalp as he leaned into your hand. He may be a stag at heart, but he always reminded you of a saint bernard. Pretty boy that he is.

You think you could lay here forever, basking in the morning dew of the life the two of you created for yourself. All the Love you poured into one another and all the twists and turns you’d put your hearts through now wrapped in a thick layer of soft amour, which consist of nothing but the thought of coming home to one another at the end of it all. The constant knowledge that no matter what, first light will break and day glow will cover your world once again.

#the maruaders #harry potter #james potter #james potter x reader #james potter x you #self insert #love him love Aaron Taylor Johnson #no beta we die like half the characters in this gd fandom

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sopebubbles · 2 years

Text

Chapter Fourteen

Summary: How many men will it take to save you? To be honest, you’ve gotten pretty used to saving yourself. Even though you’re far from a delicate thing, Los Angeles is a dangerous place you can’t seem to escape no matter how hard you try. The top 7 members of Bangtan should never have crossed your path, but they soon find they’d do just about anything to help you escape your past and make it safe for you to stay. But will you?

Genre: mafia au, poly ot7, angst, some smut, honestly a lot more fluff than i expected, POC reader/oc

Warnings: lots of angst here folks. internal slutshaming and body dysmorphia, references to past forced drug use...on a lighter note, Namjoon shows his nasty side at the very beginning here...there's comfort in this too!

A/n from beastie🐾: Please be nice to Val here! She's working very hard on trying to accept herself but her doubts keep bubbling up. I will say that this is the climax of her self doubt, so from here on out we'll see her start to accept herself more and have more positive relationships with the men. 💕💕💕💕💕 Also sopebubbles 🧼 wrote all the Yoongi parts so if you want to melt and cry and scream all at the same time, that was all her doing and I did the exact same thing UGH ITS SO GOOOOD.

Word count: 9.2K

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It was still early when Namjoon heard Jungkook finally go to his bedroom next door. That was curious. Normally if Jungkook fell asleep by the pool, he’d stay there all night. Then came a second set of footsteps and hushed whispers. He’d recognize your voice anywhere. So that’s what had happened. Namjoon ignored the paperwork on the ornate, oak desk in front of him and let his mind wonder. Would you guys shower together afterwards? Jungkook had his own bathroom after all. Or maybe Jungkook would opt for the bathtub instead so you could lean against his chest as his tattooed hand found your clit under the water? Would you let him kiss away the gasps escaping your mouth as he toyed with you?

Namjoon wanted to go in and check on you, but he knew it was better to let you both sleep. No matter what kind of work out the two of you had gotten up to this morning, you probably needed it.

Namjoon hissed at his own thoughts, realizing how hard he was under his satin pajama pants. Reaching into his pants, he wished he could watch Jungkook toy with you. He wondered absently which parts of your body were the most sensitive. Maybe there was a special part of your neck that made you wet and begged to be fucked. Namjoon wondered if Jungkook was able to find those places as he began to rub the precum over the tip of his penis with his thumb. He knew how thick Jungkook’s cock was, what it was like to be held down by him. However strong Jungkook looked, in reality he was stronger. He wondered if you got to experience what it was like to be caged in Jungkook’s arms and whining for more. Maybe one day you’d tell Namjoon all about how good Jungkook feels in your pussy between soft licks to the head of his cock. Maybe he’d get to feel you moan around his cock in your throat as Jungkook took you from behind.

Namjoon was moaning now as he stroked himself slowly. Or maybe you had been bossy? Jungkook has always been so eager to please. You could have instructed him to hold still as you used his cock for your own pleasure. Not letting him touch you as you took what you wanted and left scratch marks on his chest. Would Jungkook be the one helpless to how good your pussy feels? Would he cry trying not to come before you did? Would he tell you over and over how good you feel clenching around him? Maybe Namjoon could hold Jungkook while you fucked him. Namjoon knew how sensitive Jungkook’s nipples were. Did you find that out too? Maybe Namjoon could pinch and twist his nipples, nibbling Jungkook’s ears from behind as you had your way with him? Both you and Namjoon could tell Jungkook that he was a good boy. Namjoon knew that being called a good boy made Jungkook reach orgasm impossibly fast. What if he came too early? Getting you wet with his seed before you had even come? Would you let Namjoon finish the job? Would you call Namjoon Daddy as he pushed Jungkook’s seed back inside you with his fingers to keep you messy for him? Would you let Namjoon come inside too? Spasming around his cock and calling out for him as remnants of both him and Jungkook were kept inside you? Would you let Namjoon’s cock go soft inside you, letting you fall asleep on Daddy’s chest?

“Fuuuck,” Namjoon cursed as his orgasm hit him without warning. He slumped in his chair, feeling exhausted before realizing that he got cum all over his pajamas. “Shit.”

He changed his clothes quickly, feeling gross about his fantasies as he did so. Jungkook accepted Namjoon the way he was, but he wasn’t sure if you ever would. Somehow it seemed wrong to even think of you in such a way without your permission. And in hindsight, Namjoon didn’t even know if you and Jungkook had even slept together. Maybe you were training and needed something from his room. Namjoon couldn’t remember ever wanting someone so physically before. At least since he and Jungkook had gotten together.

He knew he wasn’t the only one in Bangtan that was falling for you. He had seen the way his most trusted men desired you. Especially Yoongi, who looked at you with a special kind of softness he had never seen from his hyung before.

He pulled away from his depraved thoughts and started to focus on the events of last night, worrying instead for his friend who had been shot. It was unusual for Hoseok to make mistakes during a mission like this. There had to have been something that made him act reckless. Or maybe the cops had been aware he was there? No. That was near impossible. Nobody Namjoon had ever met matched Hoseok’s level of stealth. There was no way they should have seen him coming.

“I want to hold him, Joon,” Seokjin blinked up at his leader, eyes glistening. “I want to hold him so bad, but he looks so small and fragile and…”

When Namjoon entered Yoongi’s clinic, Seokjin was already there, holding Hoseok’s hand softly and trying to keep from falling asleep. The steady beeping of monitors made the clinic seem like a real hospital room. Hoseok looked to be a shadow of himself as he lay on the bed, pale and unmoving. Seokjin startled when he heard Namjoon approach.

“How long have you been awake?” Namjoon asked, placing a comforting hand on his hyung’s shoulder.

“I don’t know,” Seokjin sighed. “Yoongi tried to get me to sleep in a guest room, but I kept imagining…” Seokjin didn’t finish the sentence. Namjoon didn’t have to see the older man’s face to know he was barely keeping himself together. Namjoon squeezed his shoulder in understanding.

“You better lay down and rest,” Seokjin admonished, pulling himself off of Namjoon and wiping his eyes.

Namjoon got to his knees, allowing Seokjin to drape over his shoulders as he pulled the older into a hug. Moments like this were rare with Seokjin, who despite his carefree demeanor was always calculated in how he presented himself. There were many times when Seokjin had been the only person that Namjoon had felt like he could open up to, so he was glad to return the favor as he held his hyung.

“You guys are acting like we’re called Bangtan for nothing,” Hoseok grumbled, hoarse and wincing as he tried to sit himself up in the bed. The monitors started beeping a little faster.

“The pain meds are wearing off,” Yoongi advised, going into his cabinet for more morphine. “You broke two ribs, you know.”

“I rest easier when you’re holding my hand,” Hoseok admitted, reaching out for Seokjin who happily obliged. Hoseok settled back down on the bed with a content hum, Seokjin placing a kiss on the top of his head.

“Is everything okay?” There was no hiding the grogginess of Yoongi’s voice as he stepped in. He also had trouble sleeping last night, thoughts a confusing swirl of desire and fear. He had just exhausted himself to the point of falling asleep when he heard the monitoring system in his room spike and he rushed to his clinic.

“I’m okay, hyung,” Hoseok’s voice was still hoarse, but he smiled nonetheless. “Breathing hurts more than I remember though.”

“Is that all?” Hoseok joked, making Seokjin laugh next to him.

“Actually,” Namjoon started. “Before you give that to him, Yoongi, I was wondering if Hoseok could tell us what happened yesterday.”

Hoseok squeezed Seokjin’s hand and closed his eyes, thinking back to the night before.

“I just lost my footing on the catwalk, hyung, that’s all. I was waiting for them to finish the job and then…” Hoseok made a whistling noise to indicate his falling.

“Is there something wrong with the catwalk? Do we need to have it fixed? I don’t want other people getting hurt.”

“I’m sure it’s fine, I was just clumsy.”

Yoongi cleared his throat behind them, “I do think it’s best that my patient isn’t in any discomfort right now.”

“It’s just that you’re normally not that clumsy and everyone has direct orders not to rush an attack unless one of us is threatened, so I just want to make sure…”

“Namjoon,” it was Seokjin who spoke, a harshness in his eyes that he leveled at his leader. “Let it go.”

Something wasn’t sitting right with Namjoon, but he took Seokjin’s advice. His priority was his men’s wellbeing and he definitely didn’t want Hoseok to be in any pain, “I’m sorry,” Namjoon sighed, shaking his head. “You’re right, it’s not important and I’m out of line. I hope you feel better, Hobi.”

Hoseok hummed a quiet appreciation, eyes still closed, his energy fading again as his body worked hard to heal him.

By midmorning, Namjoon decided he should go to Jungkook’s room. There was no sign of either of you in the house, and Namjoon knew that if he let the man sleep too late, he'd be grumpy. He wasn't entirely surprised to see that Jungkook was already awake. It was a little more shocking to see you dozing on Jungkook's chest. He had heard about your new-found cuddliness, but seeing it with his own eyes was something else. Jungkook raised a finger to his lips after he locked eyes with his lover, while his other hand rested gently against his shoulder.

As softly as possible, Namjoon padded to the end of Jungkook's bed and sat carefully. His hand rested only inches from where he could see the lump of your foot. You were so close but so far away and he ached to be able to lay a gentle and reassuring hand on your body, even over the covers. Even such a small amount of intimacy seemed impossible, though you'd shared more with so many of his men. Jin might be the only other man to not have touched you since he met you. But he could wait until you were ready and gave him your permission.

"How is she?" Namjoon asked, hardly more than mouthing the words. Jungkook merely gave him a soft, satisfied smile back. One Namjoon was very familiar with.

"Did you…?" Namjoon wondered, trying to tone down the lasciviousness of his question out of respect for you, but Jungkook knew it was there, under the surface, speaking from the desirous light in his eyes. Jungkook would know just how much his lover wanted you even if he hadn't ever said anything, and he had. Before he could make any kind of answer, you began to stir, nudging your nose against his chest as you muttered his name.

"Good morning again, beautiful," Jungkook grins at you, and you return a hazy smile.

"Did I drool on you?" You asked, remembering the last time you woke up on someone's chest, but still too sleepy to feel embarrassed, yet.

"I don't know, but Joon has a spit kink, so you should let him check."

None of Jungkook's words made sense to you. Why would he bring up Namjoon? You rubbed your eyes and yawned, and as you turned slightly away from Jungkook, stretching your legs out, your foot met a solid object. Your eyes flew open as you sat up in the huge bed. Your breath got caught in your throat when you saw the leader perched at the foot of the bed, watching you in perfect calm. You clutched the sheets to your chest, but you were anything but naked. You and Jungkook had both changed into clean shirts and sweatpants before you'd snuggled up together.

"What are you doing here?" You sputtered.

Namjoon instantly regretted startling you. He should have waited for you to be ready, or not been so close, or looked more disinterested. But it was too late.

"It's okay, Val. I'm sorry I surprised you. I just came to check on Jungkook and see how you two were doing."

You relaxed slightly, but your confusion grew. "Jungkook's okay, isn't he?" You looked him over. You hadn't noticed if he'd gotten any wounds yesterday that went unaddressed. You had seen his whole naked body just hours ago, and he was the very picture of health. "Is there something to be worried about?"

Jungkook smirked and brushed a bit of hair over your shoulder, allowing his fingers to give just a little bit of pressure, so you could feel him touch you and know he wanted to. "I'm perfectly fine, Val. Joonie just knows I don't usually sleep so late, so he came to make sure everything is alright. Didn't you?"

"Right." The man nodded.

"You guys sure do know a lot about each other's habits." You chuckled awkwardly.

The men shared a look. The elder opened and closed his mouth several times before he could decide what to say.

"Val, do you know Kookie and I are lovers?"

Your thoughts came to a screeching halt before picking up again in a rush. Were all the men in Bangtan in these types of relationships? With each other? What did it mean that first Taehyung and now Jungkook had slept with you. To be honest, your grasp of human sexuality was limited and your experience of relationships even moreso. But none of that really mattered to you at the moment except—Was Namjoon mad at you now?

You were moving off the bed before you could complete that thought, much less reason your way through it. If you had slept with Namjoon's lover and Namjoon was mad at you now, you could imagine what would come next, and it wasn't going to be cruel. You dashed toward the door of Jungkook’s room, swung it open and crossed into your own room, slamming the door behind you in a flash.

The boys looked at each other with concern, but reacted slowly, each thinking through their own ways of how to reach and reassure you.

Namjoon reached your door first, Jungkook a step or two behind him, but he hesitated. Going into Jungkook's room, where he had an open invitation was one thing. Knowing now how much the news of their relationship had scared you, he felt an overwhelming sense of guilt at seeing you so vulnerable and at peace, intimately holding his lover in the way he craved being held by both of you. Feeling like he had already crossed a boundary, he couldn’t justify going into your room without your permission. It conflicted with every principle he stood for.

Jungkook, however, couldn't bear watching Namjoon torture himself. He knew Namjoon cared a lot about privacy and personal space and boundaries. But Jungkook had an uncommon sense of which boundaries needed to be pushed and when. And right now he knew you were under some kind of misapprehension that could only be corrected if he could see you and talk to you. He knocked on the door and called out to you.

"Val, everything is okay. I'm going to come in so I can show you that everything is fine," he warned before he gripped the handle and found it was unlocked.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" You wept as you crouched into a corner between the bed frame and the night stand. "I didn't know!"

Jungkook gave a worried look to Namjoon, who looked completely gutted by your reaction. Seeing you making yourself small and covering your face as if to protect yourself broke his heart and crushed his hopes. Had he not done enough to show you he would never, ever hurt you?

Jungkook got low as he came toward you, his hands open and visible, but relaxed. He crouched in front of your trembling figure before he spoke. "Val, no one is going to hurt you. No one is upset." A beat passed, but you didn't relax. "Can we talk? We'll explain, and you'll see that everything is okay."

You looked anxiously at Jungkook and then up at Namjoon, but not to his face. You couldn't. You looked back at your knees and remained tense. The man closest to you frowned and turned back to the one still in the door. Jungkook motioned for him to get down. It was impossible for Namjoon not to look big, but looming over you wasn't going to help matters. He squatted and moved a few feet into the room before sitting on the ground, still quite a distance away from you and Jungkook.

"I didn't know he was yours," you muttered with a glance in his general direction.

Jungkook chuckles lightly. "That's not your fault. We're good at being discreet, even at home. And just because I'm his and he's mine, doesn't mean anyone is mad. You did nothing wrong. No one is going to punish you or hurt you."

"I won't allow it, even for myself. I'll never hurt you, Val. I swear it." Namjoon's voice was steady and earnest.

You released a small amount of your tension, so that you weren't holding yourself quite so tightly, and leaned back against the side of your bed. You studied your knees for a moment as you tried to breathe. It was clear they wanted to talk, which was not something you had ever been good at, so you tried to sort through your thoughts. Luckily, neither of the men rushed you through the uncomfortable silence, allowing your initial fear to subside. Finally, your gaze slid up to Jungkook's face.

"Why did you fuck me? I didn't force you!" You winced at your accusatory tone. You couldn't blame him, not when this was your mess. "Did I?" You questioned more doubtfully, quietly.

Jungkook's face fell and he had to restrain himself from reaching out to touch you, any part of you. "No, Val, you didn't. I did it because you wanted me to and I wanted to. And I'd do it again, any time you wanted to. It was fun and amazing and it felt like a privilege."

Tears blurred your vision and slipped down your cheeks when you turned your eyes to look at Namjoon. "I don't understand." It was nothing more than a whimper.

"Val, why don't you sit on the bed and get comfortable so we can answer your questions?" Namjoon's voice was gentle, which only served to confuse you further.

But your knees were beginning to ache, so you crawled up to sit in the very middle of the king size mattress that had always felt much too big and empty for you alone. You took one of the pillows and hugged it to your chest. You made sure to sit away from the headboard so you would have room to run if you needed it, but they were still between you and the door anyway. Once you were settled, curled around your pillow, the men shared a strained look and both rose to their feet. Namjoon could tell just by looking at you and the distant gaze in your eyes getting further away that he was going to have to strike a very fine balance between letting you sort through your thoughts and letting you get lost in them.

"Can we sit, Val?"

Your head jerked up at his question and you met Namjoon's eyes for the first time. "It's your house. Your bed. You can sit wherever you want."

"This room is yours. And wherever you are, your personal space is yours. I will always need your permission to enter it, even if we someday know each other well enough that I don't need to ask, you can always take that permission away and ask me to leave. Do you understand?"

You closed your eyes tight, forcing residual tears from the waterline, so you buried your face in the pillow, muttering to yourself, "tonta, idiota que no entienda nada." But you never felt the weight on the bed shift, so you grunted out loudly, "sit!"

Jungkook sat cross-legged like you, close enough for his knee to touch you, needing a tiny bit of contact that could seem accidental, even if Namjoon might chastise him for his carelessness. But you didn't react and neither did the leader. Namjoon placed himself closer to the edge of the bed, but far enough inside that his feet hung off it, floating in mid air. When he reclined himself, laying on his side and his head propped on his hand, he was below you. This way he was able to see your face even if you wouldn't raise your head.

"Can you tell us what's confusing you, so we can help?" Namjoon asked gently. For a moment you didn't move or speak, too overwhelmed by the sheer number of things you didn't understand. "It doesn't matter what it is. Ask us anything and we will give you an answer if we can. Whatever it is, you don't need to be ashamed."

Your stomach twisted at the word. You felt you had more than enough to be ashamed about, and verbalizing it to them seemed like too much. But you tried to sort through the hundreds of questions buzzing like bees inside your head.

"You never act like how you should," you finally uttered. That was the root of the problem with him, or at least one of them. You expected worse of him that he gave you, and it confused you every time.

"How should I act?"

You sighed. "Everything here is yours. Everything in this house belongs to you. Everyone here is under your control. But you ask permission. You never get mad. You don't…" there was a list of actions you knew he could take at any given moment, but they were so foreign from him that you couldn't even speak them. "You speak and act gently and I get confused."

Namjoon felt another painful twinge upon the fault line you had been tearing in his heart for weeks. "No one belongs to me, Val. Not Jungkook and certainly not you. I love Jungkook but he is free to do anything he likes, even you, or anyone else. If he wants to leave, it would break my heart, but he can and there isn't a person on earth who I would let stop him. You expect me to control everything here, just because I can, but that isn't the man I am or ever want to be. I know," Namjoon paused to take a deeper breath, choosing his words carefully. "I know what kind of men you're used to. That's the kind of man my father was. He needed to control the people around him. He wanted to be feared and obeyed. He thought it made him powerful. But I think real power only comes from controlling yourself, not others. So you can always be in control of yourself here."

Your head shook. He was confusing you again. "But you asked first. Can't you just do what you want?"

"Those aren't the same thing. My control ends where yours begins. I can hold myself back from doing anything I want for your sake. Because if I did whatever I wanted, we would be having this conversation with you in my lap."

At that you let out a strangled squeak. Jungkook laughed, a broad smile stretching his lips as he looked between you and Namjoon. "I think maybe she likes the sound of that, hyung."

Namjoon smiled back at him. "Me, too, but that's probably a bit much for today. You can hold onto Jungkook though, if you'd like."

You looked cautiously at Jungkook. He turned his palm up on his knee in case you would like to take his hand. But you didn't. You tugged the pillow tighter to your chest and looked at the bed spread in front of you. Jungkook tried not to feel hurt by the rejection.

"There's something else I'm confused about." Neither man said anything but waited patiently for you to continue. "You two have sex together, and Jimin and Tae have sex, but you and Tae both had sex with me. Is it…is it because I'm kind of…"

"Manly?" Jungkook's voice was thick with amusement and you whined. He barked a laugh and knocked his body into yours, his arm going around your waist. "No, Val! It's 'cause you're hot!"

"But you like men!"

"And women! And sex in general. I'm bisexual, if you wanna put a label on it, and so are Namjoon and Taehyung."

"So you don't like me because I look like a man?" You still couldn't look at him.

"You look very much like a woman to me. Where would you get an idea like that?"

Painful memories and words from Joaquin repeated in your head from your boxing days. Years of steroids made your shoulders square and your muscles defined. Your hair grew in unsightly places more easily than you imagined most women did. Your voice had never quite lost the roughness it gained while you were forced to take injections. Your breasts were small, your clit was large…there was so much about you that seemed out of place with being a woman. Now that you were more in control of your image, you worked hard at trying to maintain a soft, feminine figure but some days it felt like nothing you ever did was enough to hide what was once your reality. And these men who liked other men…did they only like you because they thought you looked like a man too?

Namjoon could see the distraction in your eyes even if he didn't know the direction of your thoughts. He wouldn't push you to tell him where you got that idea. Not today. But he wanted to bring you back and not let you get lost. He nudged Jungkook with his large foot and when the boy looked up at him with his soft doe eyes, he nodded in your direction.

Jungkook cleared his throat. "Well, whatever you think, I'm attracted to you. I have been since I first saw you, and Namjoon has always known it. He doesn't mind at all."

"Why not?" You interjected, looking at Namjoon.

"Because the way I love Kookie is by respecting his choices and his right to do as he pleases."

"But don't you feel jealous or possessive? Aren't you mad at all that we had sex?"

Namjoon shook his head. "Love doesn't mean that I own him. And it doesn't mean that he can only desire me or that I can satisfy his needs. And I –" he paused a moment to choose his words, to decide if it was right to say them. "If I'm jealous of anything, it's that he got to sleep with you. But I'm not upset."

"Why would you be jealous of that?"

Your ignorance was endearing, even if it bordered on the unbelievable. "Because he wants to fuck you, too, beautiful," Jungkook whispered to you while his eyes watched Namjoon close enough to see the shiver that ran through the man at the mention of you and him together.

Your head snapped to face him. "You do?"

Namjoon swallowed, recalling his fantasy from earlier. He couldn't seem to stop thinking of ways he wanted to fuck you. "I'd be lying if I said I haven't thought about it." His voice remained casual, as if it wasn't shocking news to you, as if he wasn't beginning to feel hot. "I'd like to have sex with both of you, together."

"Now?" You asked, louder than you meant.

Namjoon couldn't help an amused and endeared smile.

"No, honey, not now. But some time, if you feel like you want that, I would be very into that. I think I could make you feel good. I want to watch you and Jungkook make each other feel good. But only if you want it too."

Your head felt a little hazy at the thought of being with the two men already on your bed, wrapped up in sweaty, mindless passion. But they weren't the only ones in your thoughts. There was still Tae, and Yoongi, who you hadn't done more than kiss with but still your body ached for him. "But what about the…"

"The what, baby?" The pet name slipped thoughtlessly from his lips, Namjoon’s mind too filled with affection for you and determined for you to know it, so he wouldn't correct himself.

"The others," you finished quietly, and lowered your face in shame.

Formly speaking, Namjoon knew you had a point. It wasn’t an explicit discussion his men had gone over yet. They would certainly need to, just in case anyone was harboring possessive feelings. But truth be told, even if one of them felt entitled to you over the others, he wouldn’t allow it. He would only allow what you wanted, and if you wanted them all, then that’s what you should have. He thought of Taehyung and his reckless bravado when he first started dating you. Maybe he would feel jealous, but somewhere in Namjoon’s heart he could tell his adopted brother was changing.The way he no longer demanded to be part of your space was a sign of his changing attitude and if any residual entitlement lingered, Namjoon would make it clear to Taehyung that any relationship that happened with you had to be your choice. He certainly didn’t mind the idea of you being with Jungkook or Yoongi or Hoseok or any of the other men as long as you were happy. As long as they respected you and you felt safe. Namjoon felt sure that the men he trusted most in the world would also feel this way.

“We’ll talk to them,” the leader assured you. “But please understand that our feelings are authentic. It’s not my place to confess for other people, but when you hear how special you are to us, please don’t second guess our feelings. That hurts way more than thinking about you and Jungkook together ever could.” Namjoon wanted to scoot closer to you and lay his head on your lap. If only you could see how desperately he was at your mercy.

“I’ll…try,” you stammered, lifting your head off your pillow so you could face Namjoon. His eyes were kind and pleading and despite yourself you wanted to believe that everything he was telling you was true. It was just… “It’s hard,” you choked back a sob. “I don’t have anything to offer you.”

Namjoon sat up at this, scooting closer but still not touching you. “Caring for someone is not grounded in what you can offer them,” he explained.

Jungkook laughed tenderly, “Yeah, it’s not like we’re hoping to get your family’s plumpest pig in exchange for your hand in marriage.”

You knocked your shoulder into Jungkook’s, groaning at his comment, “You know what I mean.”

“Not really,” Jungkook mused. “We’re happy to have you here and that’s enough. What could you possibly offer us that’s better than that?”

“I’m happy here too,” you admitted. You were scared to death to say these words out loud, but there it was. A truth you couldn’t escape. You were happy living at the Bangtan house and it made everything you wanted after that feel greedy and vile. Their kindness alone bordered on too much, but you didn’t know how to explain this to the two men on your bed.

“Val,” Namjoon said, refocusing your attention. “There is no match you have to fight, or mission you have to complete or role you must take on to prove you’re worthy of being here. You are enough.”

Namjoon was so close and you desperately wanted to be held by him, no longer wanting to lose yourself in your thoughts or needing space. If his words were true, why wasn’t he holding you tight so you felt safe in his arms?

With a giggle you let yourself melt into the men who, even for just a moment, let you believe you could maybe be enough.

Jungkook sensed your thoughts, leaning over to whisper in your ear, “You have to ask.”

“Namjoon,” You pleaded. “Can you hold me please?”

“Of course, baby.” And just like that you were in his lap, his arms wrapped around you and chin resting gently on the top of your head. It thrilled the large man to feel how tiny you were in his arms, like he could protect you from anything. You sighed happily, feeling warmth spread through your body as Namjoon nuzzled into your hair. Jungkook smiled fondly at the sight, scooting closer to rest his head on Namjoon’s shoulder.

Your doubts began to fade away as you felt your breath sync up with Namjoon’s. A part of you knew they’d be back, but if your happiness was fleeting then you would have to soak up every moment for everything it offered. You heard Jungkook hum happily above you, and you glanced up to see Namjoon kissing him softly. You couldn’t help the whine that escaped you, making the men break apart and turn their attention to you. Their beauty was overwhelming, making your cheeks heat as you took them in upclose. Jungkook, already so good at reading what you wanted, leaned down to place a gentle kiss on your lips, so much more chaste than the ones you had shared earlier but it left you wanting more.

“Your turn, hyung,” Jungkook instructed, pulling away to leave room for Namjoon. Your heart was beating heavily in your chest as Namjoon lifted your chin to face him, reminding you again of how his size compared to yours. He did all but close the distance, breath ghosting over your lips for an extra moment before you could no longer take it and pressed your lips to his. You twisted in his lap, wanting to feel more of him, but he pulled away.

“Baby, I’m thrilled you want this, too,” Namjoon confessed. “But I want to take my time with you and right now, feeling you lay against me is enough.” As if they sensed you pouting, they snuggled into each side of your neck making you squeal and squirm. “Let us savor this,” Namjoon mouthed against your neck.

Even though Namjoon and Jungkook had been reassuring about your place in the household, you had asked to spend some time alone today to try to piece some of your thoughts together. It was easy to feel comforted when they were pressed against you and quieting your insecurities, but you also needed to figure out what all this meant for you too. For that reason, you told the men not to count you in for dinner that evening.

Jungkook took his seat at the dinner table uneasily as Jimin and Taehyung finished setting the table. Tae picked up one of the dining chairs and moved it against the wall, leaving a space at the table just as Jin brought Hobi to the table in a wheelchair.

"Did you tell Val that dinner is ready?" Yoongi asked as everyone else settled into their chairs, yet the seat between him and Hoseok remained vacant.

Jungkook cleared his throat nervously and glanced at Namjoon, who gave him a soft smile and an almost imperceptible nod of encouragement.

"Val isn't joining us tonight. I told her dinner was ready," he added as Yoongi looked like he was going to jump in. "But she asked for some time alone, and as you know, what Val wants, Val gets."

Jungkook glanced at the leader, whose authority backed him up. "As long as she doesn't hurt herself," Namjoon added with an understanding look at Yoongi.

The doctor's hands clenched into fists under the table, but he could only be angry and frustrated with himself. He should have gone to you already and tried to fix things from last night. To tell you that everything was okay, and he was sorry, and he wouldn't kiss you again if that's what you wanted. But he should also tell you that he would like to do it again, that he loves you. He should go and tell you everything that was in his heart. But you wanted to be alone and it was all his—

"I want to be upfront with you guys." Jungkook's voice was very close to trembling as he broke through Yoongi's spinning thoughts. The youngest man's eyes looked from Yoongi across the table and then to Taehyung at his side, then down to his plate. "Val and I had sex. This morning. It was spontaneous, but it was what she asked for and obviously what I wanted. Joon and I talked to her about how our relationship works, and how we feel about her. We think—we hope—she understood. She just needs a little time to…take it all in."

Namjoon squeezed his lover's hand under the table and gave Jungkook the courage to look up at his hyungs. Around the table, Jimin and Hoseok sat opposite each other with twin looks of exhilarated shock, their mouths hanging wide open as they looked at their maknae. Jin wore an amused smile, trying to keep in a chuckle.

When he looked to his right, Jungkook expected to see anger, or a look of betrayal, but Taehyung was calm. Not like an angry, calm before the storm, ready to explode calm, but a resigned one. Taehyung had understood weeks ago that all of them would care for you. Maybe he'd even feared that months ago and had kept you away. The way things stood now, he didn't feel any claim to you, at least not one he deserved. And if it was really what you wanted, like Jungkook said, what else could there be to the matter?

At once everyone's eyes shifted over to Yoongi. The silence was fraught and seemed to have lasted for minutes, even though it had only been seconds. Yoongi's expression was opaque. Although Yoongi was never considered an expressive man by any of them, there wasn't a single man at the table who doubted that he was entirely in love with you. They expected to see jealousy, but Yoongi only appeared thoughtful.

Hundreds of questions yelled inside Yoongi's brain at once, he could hear only a few of them. Had you truly wanted Jungkook? Did he treat you well? Did you enjoy yourself? Are you okay? Did you need anything? He even had a few questions for Jungkook. Did you take care of her? Is she as incredible as I imagine? What's it like to have her in your arms?

A question asked itself but he pushed it away. What does this mean for us?

He settled for, "did you use protection?"

Jungkook smiled in spite of himself and turned a light shade of pink as he looked at his plate. "Of course, Yoongi hyung."

"And she's okay?"

"Yeah, a little in her head, but she seemed good."

"Good. Food's getting cold." Yoongi stood to ladle soup into Namjoon's bowl. The others quickly began to remark on the dishes in front of them and handed their bowls to the man, anxious to make noise before the tension could return.

As night fell, your thoughts took a turn for the worst and there was no hope of sleeping. Again. How could you sleep at night when you'd behaved so badly in the previous 24 hours? Even after Namjoon's explanation of poly relationships, even though the boss himself had been pleased that you'd slept with his boyfriend, even if Jungkook treated you more affectionately than any other human ever had done, you were certain you must still be an intolerable slut. The kind of love and trust and openness that Namjoon had described to you sounded, frankly, lovely. And even putting your transgression the previous night with Yoongi aside—you knew, or at least you were pretty sure, that Yoongi would be forgiving about your behavior, because he was much too good a person to hold it against you. Even without that, you weren't a lovely enough person to participate in that kind of love. You were something different from these men. You had been incredibly wary of them initially—you would never admit to being frightened—assuming that they were the kind of men you had known in this life before. But each day you spent with Bangtan only proved they weren't your sort at all. They were something different entirely. And accepting as they might be, you did not belong. You sullied them with your presence. Every moment you remained brought more and more disgrace upon them. No matter what Namjoon or Jungkook would try to make you believe, the reality was you were not enough.

You were sliding out from between the expensive sheets of your borrowed bed before you even completed the thought. Your duffle bag sat at the bottom of the mostly empty closet between the bedroom and bathroom, and you quickly stuffed it full of everything you owned. The same way it had been when you entered this house. It only took you a few minutes to remove your clothes from the drawers and hangers. You shoved in the dirty clothes from the hamper, too. Jungkook, you noticed, did laundry frequently and had taken your items without asking on a few occasions—not that you minded. He hadn't had time to get to it today.

You had heard Jungkook's door close half an hour ago while you tossed and turned. You had wanted, briefly, to go back into his room and ask to sleep with him again, but you couldn't. Was that where your thoughts had begun to spiral down? The desire crept over your again as you stood with your bag hanging over your shoulder. You stared at the door knob. It seemed to be waiting for you to reach out and turn it. But you couldn't.

The house was quiet and you could hear Jin's snores at the other end of the hallway. Something within you ached for the fact that you wouldn't get to know that man any better. He was still a mystery to you and so he would remain. Perhaps he would simply be relieved that you were out of their way and out of their lives when you were gone. Perhaps Jimin would feel the same way, in spite of the friendship that has recently begun to blossom between you two. You'd even miss him, you thought as you stood between the door to the basement and the one to Yoongi's clinic.

You just wanted to check on Hoseok, you told yourself. You hadn't been to visit him all day because you were avoiding Yoongi, but you wanted to assure yourself he was alive and on the mend before you left the mansion. Hoseok laid in the hospital bed in the corner of the room just as still and peaceful looking as he had last night, when you kissed Yoongi. Something tempted you to touch him, and you couldn't resist the way your finger extended to trace the edge of his hand.

Yoongi's eyes opened the moment your foot stepped down the first stair. Since you'd moved into the house, he had become keenly attuned to your steps. They were so different from the others, lighter even when you weren't trying. Maybe that's why they were so easy to pick up, why he always knew when you were moving about the house and where you were going.

Perhaps it was just that he'd been wondering when you would make a run for it since the day you'd come and told them who you really were. Running was part of who you were, wasn't it? He didn't need to be attuned to you to anticipate such an action. The possibility had been on his mind since the moment you'd rushed out after he kissed you. Whatever Jungkook and Namjoon said, he'd been wondering since he heard the news if this would overwhelm you. He hated himself for pushing you so close to the edge before you were ready. The others would probably forgive him, but would he forgive himself?

No.

He was already getting out of bed when he heard the door to his clinic open. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe you were coming to see him. Maybe you needed him.

Maybe you were just coming to say goodbye.

"I'm sorry, Hoseok. You wouldn't have been hurt if not for me. I hope you won't be hurt again," Yoongi heard you whisper faintly as you ran your finger gently over the back of Hoseok's hand. "I'll miss you."

Yoongi hung back in the shadow of his open bedroom door—left ajar in case his patient needed him in the night—and watched you for a moment. He felt as though maybe he wasn't quite awake, as if a new dream came to him. He could see himself getting in a car with you and stealing away into the night. The tired trope of running off to Mexico wouldn't do. Your enemy had too many connections there, so Yoongi would drive you north to Canada. From there, the two of you could go anywhere. He would take you everywhere you had ever wanted to go and places you hadn't dreamed of, too. And he would keep you safe and healthy. He would kiss you like he had last night and not feel an ounce of guilt because both of you would be happy.

But before him, in his clinic, you were turning away, so Yoongi couldn't stay in the shadows.

"Will you miss me, too?" he found himself asking as he stepped into the room. Your hand was already on the doorknob but you turned back slowly to look at him.

"I might miss you most," you answered softly, and his heart clenched.

"You don't have to go." He walked forward to close the distance between you. "If you're leaving because of me, because I kissed you last night, you don't have to. I'll behave. I'm sorry for making you uncomfortable."

You let out a small pained sound. "Oppa, you didn't make me uncomfortable. I'm the one who was wrong. I have to leave because I'm wrong."

"You aren't. You couldn't be." There was almost a whine to his voice, but he couldn't be bothered to feel embarrassed.

"Yoongi." Your head bowed and your eyes fell to the floor as you said his name. Were they tears you were trying to hide from him? "You should be mad at me."

"Why should I be?" He asked, unthinkingly lifting your chin with his hand so he could see your watery eyes.

"I did something," you whispered, and you were barely holding back your tears.

Yoongi looked at you evenly, determined to be steady for both of you. "Do you mean having sex with Jungkook?"

Your eyes flickered to his as your breath hitched in your throat. "You know."

"We all know. You couldn't think Jungkook was going to keep that to himself." He forced his voice to stay light.

"I'm so sorry, Yoongi."

"For what? Did you want to have sex with Jungkook?" He wondered, tone free on any kind of inflection that might indicate judgement.

A small whine came from your throat before you could speak. "I did," you admitted, heart heavy with shame. "I really did. But I really wanted to kiss you, too. I want to do it again. And that's just wrong, isn't it? You at least must want me to go, right?"

Were you thinking of Taehyung as your eyes drifted away along with your thoughts of the others? He'd taken it surprisingly well, Yoongi thought. No anger or jealousy from the younger man, merely resignation, as if he expected everyone else to want you. Yoongi brought your thoughts back to him with a hand to your cheek.

"Is that what you think? Is that what Namjoon told you?"

You shook your head. Not in negation, but as if to clear it, recalling that Namjoon was yet another man you wanted in this house, further proof of how disgusting you were and how you couldn’t accept this. Then your eyes set hard, a look of determination Yoongi had come to recognize settling in your irises. "Namjoon says a lot of things. Maybe they're true for him. But that doesn't mean they are for me."

Yoongi nodded. "Namjoon's ways aren't right for everyone, it's true. But do you think it's because you can't love like that? Or because you don't deserve love like that?"

You scoffed, pulling yourself away from him. He almost had you, almost pulled you in. But when would you ever make it that easy? "Don't ask me about love! Do you think I know anything about love? What it is or how to deserve it? Because I don't! Could you love me like that?"

The question caught him off guard, but only because of the earnestness with which you asked it. Even if you didn't realize you were looking for an answer, you needed it. "Yes, I could," he replied honestly.

"How?"

"Because I would be honored if you let me show you any kind of love. Because I want to show you the best, most tender kind of love, the kind I've never wanted to give to anyone before. I could love you and let everyone else love you too because you do deserve it. I wouldn't ever need to be jealous because there would be no room for anything but happiness if I could see you let yourself be loved by anyone."

A moment passed while his words hung in the air between your heavy breaths.

"Don't go, Val. I know I have no right to ask. Your freedom is yours to take, and if you want I'll drive you out of LA and as far as you want to go tonight. But don't go because you feel guilty or ashamed or because you think you don't deserve every kind of love."

"What else can I do?" You asked in a watery whisper, and Yoongi reached out to take your hand, giving it a tight squeeze.

"Stay."

Your eyes searched his in the darkness of the room, and you thought maybe he looked a little scared and a little hopeful. "Stay?"

Yoongi nodded.

"Can I stay with you?"

A small smile curled at the corners of his lips, and he nodded again. A heavy weight lifted off his chest as you removed the strap of your bag from your shoulder and let it drop to the ground. He led you gently by the hand back to his room. He didn't need to ask if you wanted to wear one of his shirts to sleep in. He had noticed how much you liked wearing the one he'd lent you before and hadn't given back—which you had stuffed into your bag with everything else, consciously or unconsciously taking a piece of him with you. You weren’t sure why wearing Yoongi’s clothes made you feel safe, like you had a future to look forward to, while the idea of wearing the other men’s clothes felt like a bitter reminder of a controlling past. Maybe that was okay too. Maybe you didn’t have to feel the same way about all the men in the house to know how deeply you cared for all of them. They each took up a different space in your heart and Yoongi was at the center of it.

Yoongi let go of your hand to pull out a t-shirt and shorts from his drawers, handing them to you before making an excuse to go back into the clinic so you could change. You shook yourself out of the jeans and shirt you'd quickly dressed in. Where were you really going in the middle of the night and how were you going to get there? What were you thinking? It didn't matter. Thoughts left your head as the familiar scent of Yoongi filled in with his shirt, leaving room for nothing but a familiar sense of comfort. You opted to forgo the shorts, hoping he wouldn't mind or read anything into it that you didn't mean. As you slipped into his bed, you couldn't think of anything but sleep all the sudden.

Yoongi took a moment to check on Hoseok's vitals, trying to keep his mind busy yet quiet. For a second he thought he saw the flash of the patient's eyes, but it was too dark for Yoongi to be sure he hadn't imagined it. Turning away, he bent to scoop up your bag and pushed it under the bed so no one would trip if they came in to visit their friend. Or maybe so they wouldn't realize what had almost happened tonight. Or maybe so it would be harder for you to find. He was too tired to parse out all the reasons.

He came back as soon as he heard you settle in the bed, and he had to focus on calm, steady breaths as he got in beside you. He wouldn't initiate anything you didn't want this time, he told himself, even if having you in his bed like this electrified him in a way he had never known. He would simply lay there and let you come to him if you wanted, or to sleep on the other side of the bed if that was it. At least you were staying. At least for tonight. You stayed a foot away from him for a long moment and he hoped you couldn't hear the thundering of his heart. Then your hand reached out for his, and his breath stopped all together.

"Can I-" you started but quickly stopped.

Yoongi turned his head to face you through the darkness. "Whatever you want is what I want. You don't need to be afraid of anything with me," he assured you.

He almost laughed hearing you swallow in the quiet room, wondering if your nervousness was the same kind as his. You shifted closer to him across the bed and lifted his arm. He got the message and raised it so he could wrap it securely around you, but not too tight, and you settled into his side.

The feeling of relaxation that eased through your body was unexpected. You realized that for the first time in your life, you didn't actually want to run. You had felt like it was the right thing to do, still not sure you actually deserved to be there, but you desperately wanted to stay. You had finally found a place you wanted to be, and you could only hope it would last.

"Thank you for asking me to stay," you whispered, your breath fanning over his cheek as you angled your face up to him. He turned toward you again, so your lips were a hair's breadth apart.

"Thank you for not leaving," he replied, holding himself back those last millimeters with every ounce of will in his being. He didn't need it though. When you pressed your lips to his, you couldn't imagine wanting to be anywhere else.

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ladysmutwriter · 14 days

Text

Take me one more time

Continuation of Watching her Fade Away! Summary of that fic// after a nasty fight with your boyfriend Simon Henrikkson, you cheat on him with his best friend David, breaking up with him afterwards.

After breaking up with Simon you move from Stockholm to pursue your studies, however, after a year of no contact with him, Sophie calls you to tell you Simon was badly injured in a hit and run, leaving him paralyzed from his waist down, and that perhaps your company could help him in the deep depression he now has.

This was an unfinished fic, i might not finish it, but here are the two chapters i wrote into one.

art credit @/ throat2834 on TikTok

You were walking out of school, hands in your hoodie as the snow fell from the sky, all the other kids chatting with their friends as they got out of their classes.

You were never one to have many friends, usually more kept to yourself, your only friend being David, a guy who was a few years older than you, about to graduate- you two met on detention, after you got sent there for "vandalizing" the bathroom's walls; the teacher there just told you to stay quiet, and then got out of the classroom to go smoke, there, the only other kid was this messy brunnette, his hair falling on his face and a scar under his eye as he mindlessly drawed on his history book.

Getting closer to see his drawings, you began talking, and then he walked you to your home, exchanged numbers and began talking.

You had a bit of a crush in him, after all he had this "bad boy" look plastered all over him, teaching you how to smoke cigarettes behind school, introducing you to Simon and Sophie, which had the same age as you; you four began hanging out daily, until your crush for David faded away and was filled with Simon.

Thankfully, your attraction was mutual, as Sophie once told you Simon had told her he liked you.

It was the beggining of the sour relationship you'd endure for years.

You were driving back to Stockholm, the map on the copilot seat and Deftones sounding in low volume as you entered the colorless town, all of your memories coming back and the guilt rotting deep in your brain once again eating your head.

After your little affair with David you two cut off all relationship you used to had, the years of being there for each other burned into regret from both parts, the only contact you still had being only Sophie; her constantly talking to you and keeping you up with her life. After you confessed what had happened with David, she promised you that Simon would never know about it in your absence.

Stoping the car in front of Sophie's house, you got out and knocked on the door, after a few seconds a happy Sophie oppened the door and hugged you tightly, telling you how much she missed you, her arms giving you that warmth you missed oh-so-much. Breaking the hug she invited you to her house, you sitting on her couch as she went to get you some coffee, after all you drived some good hours to get back, feeling your eyes close by themselves as you took in the warmth of her house and fell asleep on the couch.

Once you woke up, you saw Sophie watching the TV as she sat next to you, the still warm cup of coffe in front of you in the little table; reaching out to drink it, you began some small talk with her, mostly about how she had been, until the topic landed on Simon.

"I really regret what i did" You admitted, suddenly your throat becoming dry, the memories of seeing Simon cry as you broke up with him coming back to your head.

"I know Y/N" she answered after taking some time to think, her eyes scanning your face as she gave you a soft look, never judging you, instead, understanding you.

She knew how Simon was with you, after all she heard always she sides from both of you whenever you had an argument, her support mostly landing on your side as for all she loved Simon and held him as a dear friend, she knew how toxic he could be.

You ended up crashing at Sophie's, spending the night cuddling with her as you watched movies and ordered some chinese food; preparing yourself to go visit Simon the next day.

The sun rised, Sophie waking you up so you'd go shower and get ready- the warm water hitting your skin making you relax, after all, you were supossed to fix things now.

Second Chapter:

Simon was... Empty.

He still remembers your breakup, you asked to meet him in his house, a day after the big fight; you looked... Bad, to say it somehow, your eyes didn't look at him how you used to look at him, with love; no, it was almost disgust now, empty, voidless eyes staring into him as you said the words he feared so much.

"I don't think we have a future together"

Those lips he used to kiss so much, now giving him the worst words he ever heard. You were his first love, his first everything. And you were leaving him like everyone else, he felt his body go cold, his hands trembling, the urge to scream and beg for you to not leave burning his throat, instead, he went silent, his eyes staring at the floor.

You two were sitting on the edge of his bed, your hand over his as silent tears ran down your tired eyes; his face seemed of pure rage, you were just like everyone else-

"Din jävla tikt"

You frowned your face at the insult, letting out a short squeak of fear as Simon pushed you to your back, him straddling your hips as his mouth forced onto yours.

Was this what you wanted? For him to be like your shitty exes? He could be that and way worse- inflict on you the pain you were giving him right now. Teeth against each other as his hands pressed down on your body keeping you still as you tried to squirm, fingers digging painfully into your soft flesh as more tears ran down your face, screams of desesperation muffled against Simon's mouth.

You'd never forget the taste of that last kiss, cigarettes and coffee, a taste you used to love so much turned into one of the worst memories of your life.

It was when one of his hands left your torso to move onto your neck, choking you as you finally got the strength to push him away, him landing on the floor as you got up, face red, hair messy and tears streaming down your cheeks like rivers, your legs shaking as Simon's mother opened the door after she heard the struggle, asking what had happened in a panicked voice, after all, her son was on the floor looking at you as if he was one step from murdering you, and you completely terrified on the other side.

You ran, away from that house, away from the memories.

...

Simon's thoughts were interrupted as his phone buzzed.

It was already 3 PM, him still on his bed, his curtains closed as he took a look at his phone- his chest hurting as he recognized the number.

"Can i visit you? I'll stay at Stockholm for a few days in case you want to talk"

He stared for some seconds at the message, his hands becoming sweaty as he answered with a simple "yes". Shit, he hadn't bathed in days, less brushed his teeth, and his room probably smelled like shit too- but he didn't bother changing any of that, after all, a part of him wanted you to feel pity for him, to feel guilty, to beg to be back with him, somehow those thoughts making sense in his delusional brain.

Probably half an hour passed before he heard the door ring, hearing his mother squeal in happiness at seeing you, now all that was left was for you to cross the door to his room.

On your perspective, going back to that house made you uncomfortable, the feeling of being choked returning to your head as you hugged his mother, she was a nice lady- always worried about Simon, cleaning his mess and working her back off to afford him treatment. As much as she used to be a motherly figure to you, her hugs felt like Simon's; after having a small chat with her, you told her you were here to see her son, she said goodbye as she had to go meet Simon's dad somewhere and left you alone in the house.

Everything was silent there, only your footsteps ringing in your ears as you finally stood in Simon's door.

Knocking, you got in, the harsh smell of bad higiene hitting your nose as you saw his room, a complete mess, magazines on the floor, rotting food in plates and his wheelchair with clothes stacked up on it, the lump on the bed being Simon, who didn't even bother looking away from his phone to greet you.

He was vulnerable now- you had to remind yourself, he was weaker than never before; a small sense of pity forming in your gut as you walked towards his bed, sitting next to him as you placed your hand gently over his, him letting his phone drop to the covers as his eyes went to yours.

Deep eyebags, unkept facial hair and reddened eyes from sleeping all day- he looked like shit.

No words needed to be spoken, and neither of you wanted to anyways, anxiety filling up both your chests as your eyes met.

Your hand went to his face, caressing it softly, fingers then tangling on his greasy hair, sighing as you realized he was living as bad as he looked, his breath stank too- you trying your best to not make any face of disgust.

"Let's go wash you" You said to his surprise, but he didn't say anything, he was locking his feelings, afraid that if he showed any emotion he'd break into a million pieces, letting out his feelings for you in the proccess.

Getting up, you cleaned up his wheelchair, grabbing him up by his armpits as you dragged him to sit down on it, moving the chair towards his bathroom- thankfully his bathroom was big enough for you two, you going to turn the faucet on as you prepared him the tub, as soon as warm water filled it, you turned to Simon, giving him an awkard smile.

First step was to help him brush his teeth, as soon as he finished you helped him clean any toothpaste left overs from his facial hair.

He didn't even stare at you, his eyes lost on the tub as he thought how long had it been since he properly bathed, layers of sweat stuck to his skin- probably the water would end up black afterwards. Realizing he was a lost case, you kneeled in front of him to take off his black t-shirt, him offering no help nor protest, anxiety bubbling up your skin as you saw he spread his cuts to his torso, some fresh, some older, some already healed; you'd need to disinfect some later. Moving down, you began pulling down his pants, his hands instantly going to grab yours- his face crimson red as he looked away from you.

"It´s nothing i haven´t seen before Simon" You said- his hands leaving yours as he breathed a little more heavily.

Pulling the pants down with his boxers in one fast movement, you avoided looking at his groin- you weren't a perv. Lifting him up and getting him into the bathtub was another whole task, he had gained some weight, making it harder for you to move him in your arms. Once you had him in the tub, you got to work, applying shampoo on his head as you used a cup that was lying around to wet his hair.

You spent a good 15 minutes on his hair, untangling it and massaging his scalp, making him ease into it, letting out little sighs as he relaxed. After his hair looked shiny, you moved some of it from his face, smiling at the tenderness of the situation- the hatred you once had for each other forgotten into the peaceful situation, the only sound being of your fingers softingly cleaning Simon.

Things changed when you went with the sponge, your hand underwated rubbing on Simon's thighs, trying to clean his skin when his hand went to grab your arm, his wet hair pressing down on your shoulder as his fingers digged into your skin. Realizing what was going on, you had a mental debate- where you really gonna go down this path? What if he assumed you were going to go back with him if you "did" this?

However, something lit up inside of you... Seeing him so, vulnerable, desesperate- you were probably the first person to care for him this way in such a long time, wouldn't you extend your kindness just a bit more?

Letting go of the sponge, your hand went up his thigh, feeling his body hair thicken as your hand reached upper and upper, feeling the intense warmth emanating from his crotch, even in the hot water.

He let out a low groan as your hand grasped his hard dick, fingers going to rub his tip before masturbating him, hand moving up and down as he bit your shoulder, his whole body tensing. He finally looked at you- god, were you gorgeous, your brows furrowed as you bit your lip, focused on getting him to cum, now letting out groans and moans for you to hear, your face moving to his direction, finally your lips meeting as he felt his orgasm come closer, since he hadn't done anything in some time, being a bit too sensitive, not really lasting long before feeling the knot on his lower abdomen grow.

Your tongues danced with each other, your hand jerking him off rapidly as his grip on you tightened, letting out little mewls of your name as he broke the kiss, hiding his face on the crook of your neck as he came, his fluids mixing with the water as he came down from his high, breathing heavily.

"Well, we better change the water now"

#cry of fear #cry of fear x reader #cry of fear smut #david leatherhoff x reader #simon henriksson x reader

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