#my folder for this set is literally called ‘buck hot’
Text
Partners- Reader x Hybrid!Maknae line
A/N: Don't know if ill write more and make a Lil series or keep this as a drabble
WC: 4k
Warnings:Fluff, possible smut if i continue.
Rated: PG 13 i guess
After another long day at your shitty desk job as a secretary, you were on your way out when you get stopped by the department head.
“Hey Y/N, I'm glad I caught you!”
You inwardly groaned. All you wanted to do was to go home to your beautiful hybrid who you knew would no doubt whine about you coming home late. 1000 bucks says Mark was here to tell you that you would be delaying that peace a little longer.
“Mark please I am tired and I already worked two hours over today”
“Sorry Y/N. I have to stay too. We are expecting some big shot from the main branch and you and I get to personally oversee all things pertaining to him when he gets here. He’s gearing up to take over HQ as the new CEO”
“Oh my- No way.”
“Yup. Jackson Wang”
“Damn. well, he is super hot so I'm doing it for him, not you. When do we need what?”
“He doesn't get in till next week so we will have time to prepare. Just letting yo know you can pass on the DRASS project to Amaya.”
“What no way that project is mine, it's literally all I've worked on for months-”
“And I know you were super excited to fly back to Kenya to help those people and see it through. I promise you will get full credit but We need this, trust me Jackson says he wants to pick his personal team from within the company. If we do well enough this will be the push we need and could select us as candidates.- You have a hybrid right? well, I have a family of five, and having extra money in the bank whether it's just a bonus for this or a whole new position will help us both and you know it.”
“okay” You relented with a sigh taking the folder from his hands.
“You should rest up this weekend so that we can meet up a little early next week to go over what needs to get done and how we can prepare for everything.”
“so i can go home now?”
Mark chuckles and nods. “ Run along, give your boy a hug from me” Mark kisses your forehead as has been the norm and walks away with a small wave towards his own car.
Leaving the office you groan after seeing the traffic. It was going to be a slow crawl in the car for like an hour before you make it back home.
“Y/N!” You didn't even unlock the door before you were bombarded with the full weight of the handsome hybrid you share a home with.
“Where were you? I was waiting for you for so long. I got us dinner but its all cold now” His voice a little muffled as he spoke into your hair.
“oh what did you eat?”
Taehyungs tummy growled.
“I didn't. I wanted us to eat together because i got Lasagne, your favourite.” His tail which was wrapped around you as he had hugged you fell to the floor in sadness.
“I’m so sorry Tae.” You looked up to find his ears flattened on his head as his arms drop from your shorter frame.
Taehyung’s eyes meet yours as he feels how your guilt seems to seep through and he gives you his beautiful signature boxy smile before picking you up and carrying you into your apartment.
“It’s okay Y/N we can reheat it.”
You kiss him on the check and go into your room to change into something comfortable before joining Tae back in the kitchen and sitting on one of the stools.
“Wine M’lady.” Taehyung poured two glasses and reached for your hand leading you to the couch.
“c’mon it will take a while to heat nicely in the oven.”
You nodded and followed him hi sat first then pat his lap. You looked at him questioningly.
“First my favourite meal and then expensive wine? It's not my birthday Tae.By the way this wine is like 1922 grade $400 bucks stuff how in the world did you get some?”
Taehyung chuckled.“I just wanna sit and cuddle with you and have a nice evening together plus you smell like a squirrel.”
You caved and snuggled beside Taehyung instead of on his lap but he just pulled you closer to him nuzzling your hair and drawing little patterns on your arms.
You inwardly facepalmed, of course, Tae’s sensitive nose picks up on all the people from work and apparently most pungently your intern who had sent his Squirrel hybrid to give in some documents to you halfway through a meeting - “I can go take a shower-”
“No don't go please i just missed you a lot today is all.”
“ You sure? Nothing else? Nothing bothering you?”
“Nothing at all.”
It was not nothing.
Taehyung had spent the better part of the morning crying his eyes out after overhearing your conversation to Seokjin. He didn't mean to eavesdrop, in fact, he was going to come and give you a hug good morning but what he heard made him stop dead in his tracks.
“He’s a beautiful Calico cat Y/N, i think that it could be a good match for you. You did say you had always wanted a cat right? well this is your chance and he will dote on you hand and foot- you work too much honestly when do you take time to read and breathe?”
Tae robotically walked away tail tucked in between his legs and retreated to the bathroom He didn't bother with the rest of the conversation he was just numb. He turned on the shower but made no other moves towards actually showering. All he could think of was that maybe you were trying to replace him, that he wasn't enough for you or maybe that he was just too much and you didn't love him anymore. He heard you knock on the door announcing your departure for work but he couldn't bring himself to respond. After crying for what felt like hours Tae looked at his phone. You had sent a message.
“Tae,
Had to leave early,U might not have heard me in the shower.Take care. Y/N”
Taehyung felt morose. No “I love you” or cute emoji. He sighed and went to your room. Laying on your bed he snuggled up to one of your pillows and managed to fall asleep. It ended up only being a nap as Taehyung woke around an hour later. Eyes still puffy and with a sniffle, he sat up determined and decided to do something special for you.
“Hey Hyung”
“What do you wan- Is Y/N Okay? Did you start a fire again?”
Taehyung deadpanned. “Hyung that was one time!”
“Okay, what's wrong little brother?”
Taehyung whined. he felt the beginnings of tears stirring up again.
“come over. Hoseok has a day off today. Or do you just wanna talk to me?”
“I’ll be right there”
Yoongi sighed rubbing his fingers over his temples. Hoseok was currently now consoling his little brother who after regaling his story managed to upset himself and break down into full-blown tears again.
“I knew something was up I *Hic* didn't think she, we would ever be apart”
Yoongi sat on Taehyungs opposite side and pulled him into a hug after wiping some of his tears.
“It’s just a big misunderstanding okay she is just working really hard she’s not trying to abandon you.”
“Hyung you don't know that. Easy for you to say because you have Hoseok- Hyung.”
“And it's only because of her that I got adopted by him remember? She wanted us both but she didn't have the means to look after both of us so she called all her friends willing to take a hybrid on and then she said that she was sorry she couldn't do more but at least we would be able to see each other. She’s the reason we can still talk, see each other despite being separated, and hang out.”
Hoseok nods, “She got an extra bed in your room too for Yoongi to come to stay over whenever he wanted and she gave him the spare key remember? I don't even have a spare and I've known her longer-”
“she likes us better” Taehyung and Yoongi snapped to Hoseok at the same time.
Hoseok laughed. “well glad to know where I stand. I wouldn't hold it against you if you moved now, she earns enough to support you now...so if-”
Yoongi smiled “You would be hopeless without me and you know it.”
Hoseok scratched behind Yoongi’s ears and with a smile, he began “Well if you want my advice on this-”
“We don’t,” The hybrid brothers said again in unison.
Hoseok rolled his eyes and mumbled about getting something to eat and calling Seokjin to figure out what was going on.
Yoongi’s heart was aching for Taehyung. He wanted nothing more than to see his beautiful smile again.
“Y/N likes Lillies why don't you buy her some and like welcome her with those and some chocolates or something when she gets home?”
Taehyung sighed. “I thought about that but it feels too simple and like something anyone could come up with.” His eyes glazed over to the Tv where a couple was horseriding on a ranch. Immediately Taehyung lit up.
” That's it!”
“Tae we can't buy a horse ranch, even with all three of us chipping in”
“Not the ranch Hyung. Y/N likes this special wine that you can only get at a few places. If I get her a bottle and cook her a fancy dinner she can remember why she only needs me.”
Hoseok came back to the living room.
“oh, I have a bottle from the last time we went to the ranch as a group the chateau right? I was gonna wait for her birthday and surprise her but you can have it Tae,”
Taehyung glomped Hoseok in gratitude.
“cant breathe Tae”
“sorry.”
Yoongi stood up scrolling on his phone. “what did Soekjin say?”
Taehyungs smile dropped and his face morphed into nervous worry. Yoongi placed a comforting hand on his brother's shoulder expecting bad news from the way he reacted.
“He is out of town for the weekend. Some big trip so I could only leave a voicemail. It’s probably nothing. Anyway, you should go on and get dinner ready for Y/N before she gets home right?”
Taehyung brightened a little and skilled nodding. Before he left Yoongi said he should probably order food so he doesn't poison you or set the place on fire. He left feeling optimistic and hopeful that he could mend things with you. He wanted to help take better care of you he promised himself.
You woke up to the smell of burnt pancakes and Hot chocolate. Following the scent, you found Tae in the kitchen attentively staring at the pancake until a small ding went off on his phone. Shutting off the timer he placed a layer of batter where the last pancake just lay and set the timer again. You watched him fondly before he plated this one and poured honey over it. Putting the plate on a tray with the precut fruits and hot chocolate his ears went up as he sniffed the air. Turning around he saw you in the doorframe.
“Y/N...i-i made breakfast” He hastily grabbed your hand and led you back to you room tucking you in, before rushing out and bringing the tray with him.
Your heart swelled at this blessing of a man in front of you and he watched with rapt attention as you cut off a piece of the pancake before placing it in your mouth.
“How is it?” His ears sagged over his head expecting rejection.
“I can make you an omelet instead if you-”
“Taehyung it's the best pancake I’ve ever eaten.”
He buried his face in your pillow at your praise, tail wagging happily. You offered him a strawberry and a piece of the pancake and he hummed happily.
After sharing breakfast together you spent the day spring cleaning together before spending the rest of the day on a movie marathon. On Sunday You were both invited to game night at Hoseoks and You and Tae were a dynamite team as usual with Yoongi coming in to troll Hoseok much to his displeasure.
“I look forward to working with you further Mr wang.” you held out your hand. Jackson laughed and gave you a hug instead.
“No way just call me Jackson. I’ve been friends with Mark forever so any friend of his is a friend of mine, also you come at a right recommendation, which is surprising cos he can be a bit of a downer.”
“I’m right here you know!”
“I’m so grateful for you for doing this at such last minute. i know it was a lot to organise in the given time frame Y/N.”
“Not at all, Mr wa- Jackson.”
You all stayed in his office with some comfortable banter before going home.
Taehyung called over to you and began to advance happily towards you before he stopped and sniffed you strangely. You wanted to ask him what the problem was but your phone chimed. it was Soekjin- he was calling you. You declined the call because you remembered you needed to tell Tae what was going on so that you could get his opinion on things.
“It might be urgent, if he keeps calling you like that. Go see what your human friend wants.”
“Do you not like Jin? Since when? Tae what’s-”
“You’ve been talking a lot to whoever lately and you smell like a new scent and a hybrid and I feel tired so I’ll probably just go hang out at Hyung’s.”
“No wait Taehyung I’m not trying to have secrets or hide anything from you but there is something important I need to tell you.”
Taehyung huffed and went to go sit down as you took his hands in yours. He looked like how you found him 2 years ago a wounded puppy with eyes full of love and brimming with sadness.
“Things are a bit crazy at the shelter and Jin needs help in housing some of the Hybrids temporarily. Some can go to other shelters but some need a more... loving environment, calmer without the more violent hybrids sharing with the weaker type ones. I offered to take two of them in while he figures everything out. I know its a lot and if you don't want to, we will just stay just us but if Jin is overcrowded he’s at risk of getting shut down and then they could all end up on the streets I-”
“It's okay.”
You blinked. “Huh?”
“It's just temporary, right? I can understand that we shouldn't let anyone be on the streets if we can help.”
“really? you’re fine with this?”
“It’s...I will be able to deal with it. But I want strawberry cake and I’m not sharing”
“Of course Tae. Guess I should call Jin and tell him the great news!” You chirped and went to grab your phone. You didn't notice the sheer rejection that he tried to hold in.
Jungkook and Jimin stood behind Jin. The latter holding Jin’s shirt as he explained some of the pills he had brought along for their nutrition and bringing along some bags with groceries. You reached to take it and Jungkook took them all in your stead silently trying to minimize eye contact with you.
“Thank you Jungkookie.”
Embarrased, Jungkook stuttered out. “I-Its the least I can do after you are being so kind.” You practically melted and pet the Muscle bunny softly at the base of his ears and he stomped his foot a little and grinned showing his toothy smile.
Jimin, not to be outdone, said he could help you pack everything away and let go of Jin who was trying to remain them of something that they were tuning out in their silent contest to impress you. You tried to place a jar on a shelf too high and fell back into JK who caught you and placed it up for you instead. Jimin began whining that he could have done it for you but he was busy with the things in the fridge.
Taehyungs loud sneeze broke up the rowdy lot of you.
Jungkook gripped your waist in fear and stayed behind you as you faced Taehyung. Jimin in shock had hit his head on the shelf of the fridge and tried to catch some of the items that threatened to spill out.
Tehyung seeing Jungkook’s hand on your waist had yanked you out of his grasp and began scenting you and sending a snarl their way.
You sighed. This was how Taehyungs been acting ever since you started the project with Jackson. Pretty much anything could set him off but you felt bad because you should have been more understanding of how this may look in his eyes.
“ Jin, Rabbit, feline”
“Tae, Longtime! Sorry if we woke you. this is Jungkook he's a black Holland Lop and Jimin is a calico cat.”
“I’m Y/N’s Siberian husky.” Tae said to the other two before looking back to Jin.
“ I was awake- Hyung i was finishing the laundry for the new...guests.”
You spun around in his arms to face him. Petting his ears as he cooed into your touch “Aww Tae I told you I’d manage it”
Jin’s ringtone killed the silence and he dashed out telling you to call if any problems arose.
Thereafter you got the boys settled into Taehyung’s room. With a sigh you went and faceplanted into your sheets only to have Taehyung come and crawl beside you. After half an hour when you tried to get up Taehyung just grumbled and held you tighter.”
“Tae i have to go to”
“work I know” He said with a sigh reluctantly letting you go.
“Today’s a chilled day we will be done early. Besides, you guys can use this time to bond and make friends.” At his whine, you kissed the top of his head. “ please? For me, try?”
Six weeks later all of you have somewhat of a comfortable rythym in the household. On a day off you decided it would be fun to go to the beach. Jimin offered to pack a picnic for everyone and Jungkook and Taehyung were moody on the drive over because they didn't think of it first. You had also told him since he was so helpful he could sit in the passenger seat and Jimin spent the whole ride grinning like the cat who got the cream.
Once there you were happy to let the boys wander off to their heart's content after setting up your belongings under a beach umbrella.
Jungkook had other plans. He worked very hard on his physique and although shy he still remembers the first time he came back shirtless from a run and found you on the couch. You tried to hide it but He knows you checked him out and you were definitely attracted to him the way your eyes hungrily racked over his body. Since that day he would be on the lookout for any golden opportunities to be close to you. Honestly, Taehyung had it made. You were kind, smart, hardworking, and breathtakingly beautiful. So often he dreamt of you as his and he knew the others thought the same. Officially though he was still a foster, Jimin had reminded him that morning and their place here wasn't secured so Jimin said he was gonna up the Ante. At first, Jungkook ignored him and went to shower but when he emerged to the sound of you praising Jimin for coming up with such a cute and thoughtful idea, He knew he needed a plan of his own.
Taehyung excused himself for the bathroom and Jimin was looking around for the cooler box. He decided to go and check in the car leaving Jungkook alone with you. This was his moment. He stripped himself of his shirt and innocently asked if you would come to the water with him. He rationalized his need for an escort being that he was not used to such big crowds of people and thus managed to convince you out of your sundress to reveal your bikini and guide him by the hand towards the water.
Jungkook was Jungshook at the two-piece and how you looked in it enjoying the view until some guy came out trying to talk to you. That snapped him out of his daze and he flung you over his shoulder and bolted into the water trying to shield your body for his admiration alone. You were having a ball of a time and Jungkook got to stay near you and hold you claiming to save you from sharks if you found any.
Jimin had stomped away to the car and after retrieving the cooler box which he was pretty sure Jungkook was supposed to carry happily bounded to the store to get ice for the drinks on the way back. He also spotted a local artist doing caricatures and thought to remember to bring you over later for a couple picture together. He knew you weren't a couple but Jimin was smitten for you. He was slightly confused as to why Tae didn't have a romantic relationship with you, or at least you weren't his mate so he still had a shot. The only thing in his way now was the little maknae and his cute bunny-like stupid smile and ‘helpful groping’. Jungkook certainly wasn't shy in trying to subtle scent you when you were distracted anymore, not like how it was when they first arrived. No, they had gone from not trying to interfere with your and Tae’s relationship to wanting their own with you, a romantic one. The mystery now was why arent you and Taehyung together? Was it because he was a hybrid or was he just not the right guy? did you reject Taehyung before? Did you get rejected by Taehyung and now he regrets it and wants you back? Jimin didn’t care he wanted you and that was final. Even if you never returned his feelings even just being by your side could be enough for him, enough that he could get over sharing your affection with Taehyung after all he was the first even if he hates to admit it.
Taehyung almost dropped the Icecream cones in his hands.
Its been so long since you two had come to the beach, in fact, the last time was when Yoongi had hinted at you two being an adorable couple. Taehyung had gotten you ice cream to share and you had some dribble down from your mouth to your chin. Taehyung did it before his brain was able to process the action, he licked a stripe from your chin to your lips lingering for a second before placing a chaste kiss there. You were embarrassed, to say the least, and Tae hid his own embarrassment by getting up to toss a ball back to a bunch of kids playing volleyball. When he came back he noticed you with some of Yoongi’s cocktail and the two of you managed to finish the jug just between the two of you. Later at home Yoongi and Hoseok took to the twin beds in Tae’s room and you pulled him into your room. Tae had discovered you were really handsy and although he wanted you so badly you were both too drunk to do more than sleep after a sloppy makeout session. The next morning you had woken up first and Left some water and ibuprofen with an apple by his side. His morning wood making him panic in short horror prompting a quick cold shower. While he discarded his clothes he saw your underwear that you had slept in still coated in fragments of your arousal, on top of the laundry hamper and grabbed it as he stepped in the shower. It was the first time he had taken your underwear.
Yoongi had told him then to let you bring it up- the idea of you guys figuring out what you want moving forward as it was clear to him and Hoseok that you two were lusting after one another but was it anything more? Taehyung was in the midst of figuring out his feelings for you and what everything meant and how things were going to be different but you came in the apartment with breakfast goodies in tow. You managed to still look effortlessly beautiful in the morning and Tae was so happy that you got him his favourite things for breakfast from your waffle house.
“Tae, I’m so sorry about yesterday i was super drunk”
“I was drunk too Y/N its fi-”
“No it’s I'm sorry can we just forget this all happened i don't want to loose you Tae I love you. Can we move on please?”
Taehyungs heart shattered across the floor but he nodded and to put insult to injury you kissed his cheek before scolding Hobi for drinking The hot chocolate you meant for Taehyung and yourself.
“I’m sorry lil bro. If you wanna stay with us we can share my room, i have a double bed and Hobi can-”
“Its okay Yoongi- Hyung. I can keep it together for now, ill give it some time and if that doesn't work I’ll confess and we work from there. For now, her loving me is enough, even if its just friends. This love and adoration from her is enough.”
It’s Not Fucking Enough. Not anymore. That was then when he had you all to himself, No new boss keeping you at work always hugging you, No Bunny, no Cat. No it was war now, and Tae has just about reached his limit.
#kim taehyung x reader#hybrid bts x reader#hybrid!jimin#hybrid!taehyung#hybrid!jungkook#maknaelinexreader#btsfic#taehyung x reader
269 notes
·
View notes
Text
A Companion Unobtrusive
You can find Chapter One here.
On move-in day, Mulder showed up at her (their) door at 9:00am sharp, wearing a ratty Oxford University sweatshirt and an anxious expression.
“Hey,” he said, when she opened the door, “I got a buddy downstairs with a truck. Where should he park it?”
“Follow me,” Scully said, and grabbed her keys off the hook by the door. She led him down the stairs and around to the back of the building.
“We’ve got two parking spots,” she said, “though I don’t have a car. You can have him pull in here. The one next to it is yours. You ride a motorcycle, right?”
He nodded and then jogged to the corner and called out to the friend he had waiting, who pulled into the alley and then leaned out of the open window.
“Frohike, Scully, Dana Scully, my buddy Melvin Frohike,” Mulder introduced them.
“Last name basis with everyone, huh?” Scully said to Mulder in a low voice. He smiled.
“She’s hot,” was all Frohike said, and Mulder flipped him off and then directed him into the narrow space.
Scully looked down at her jean cut-offs and baggy, laundry-day tee shirt. She wasn’t exactly dressed for Prime Time.
Frohike cut the engine, jumped out and they all gathered around the back of the truck. There were about a dozen medium sized boxes and no furniture.
“Is this it?” Scully asked.
“I am but a humble nomad,” Mulder said, “taking only what I can carry.”
“What he means is that he sold almost all his shit when he left England,” Frohike said, “I hope you have pots and pans.”
Scully laughed.
“I do, and you’re welcome to use them,” she said, “Five bucks a pop for utensils, though.”
“I like her,” said Frohike, hooking a thumb at Scully as he pulled down the tailgate.
They had everything up and into Mulder’s bedroom in less than ten minutes.
“I’m off,” said Frohike, the second he set the last box down on Mulder’s floor. “It was nice meeting you, Scully.”
“Likewise,” said Scully, who was leaning against the frame of Mulder’s door.
On his way out, Frohike paused by Scully and leaned into her confidentially.
“If he tries to seduce you, let him down easy. The man’s got no game,” he said.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Scully said and then cut a look to Mulder who looked more than a little glad to see the back of Frohike.
“Where’d you pick him up?” Scully said, once the front door had closed behind him.
“I collect strays,” Mulder said simply, peeling the tape off of one of the boxes.
Scully took a step back into the hallway.
“I’ll leave you to it,” she said. Then, “Oh! Here’s your key,” she stepped back into his room, and handed over the single key. “It works on the building doors and the apartment deadbolt. Sometimes you have to wiggle it a bit on the lock by the garage.”
Mulder nodded his thanks and she backed out.
“Let me know if you need help or anything,” she called out over her shoulder.
XxXxXxXxXxX
A few hours later, she knocked on his door.
“I come bearing gifts,” she said, holding up a pizza box and a six pack of Shiner Bock.
“Marry me,” he said, and she smiled, looking around the room. He’d hung clothes in the closet, and had all his other meager possessions in various small stacks around the room. He’d broken down the boxes and had them sitting neatly by the door. He looked exhausted.
“There’s Spartan furnishings, and then there’s this,” she said, and he shrugged, chagrined.
“I’ll need to do some shopping in the immediate future, I’ll grant you,” he said.
“The good news is, I have a real table with real chairs not eight yards from your bedroom door.” She held up the pizza and six pack once again, “Come on,” she said, “your piles aren’t going anywhere.”
He followed her to the kitchen and she gave him a quick rundown of what cabinets held what, pulling down plates and glasses. She pulled out two beers and slid the rest of the six pack back in the fridge.
She opened them both and handed him one. He clinked the bottles together.
“Happy housewarming,” she said.
“Slainte,” he said, and they both took a slug.
A semi-comfortable silence descended on them, and Scully filled it by sliding a couple slices of pizza on her plate. Mulder sat back and pushed the sleeves of his sweatshirt up his forearms. They looked tanned even in the washed out light of the kitchen and were roped with muscle and sprinkled with dark hair.
“Ever wonder why they call it a housewarming?” Mulder asked.
“I never really thought about it,” she said, and then leaned forward. “But now I want to know.”
She looked at him and he smiled back.
“Fire is a classic symbol of strength and purity, which is why many European traditions involve lighting a candle or a fire on your first night in a new home. Doing so is said to ward off evil spirits by casting away darkness. It’s fallen out of practice with modern conveniences like electricity, but the name stuck.”
“Well,” said Scully, “aren’t you a wellspring of random and arcane facts.”
Mulder held up his beer.
“You have no idea,” he said, and she laughed.
She peeled off a piece of pepperoni from one of her slices of pizza, and popped it into her mouth.
“Be right back,” she said, and came back a moment later with a large white pillar candle and a box of matches. She struck a match and lit the candle, then held out her beer. He clinked the neck of his to the neck of hers.
“To warding off evil spirits,” she said.
“And casting out darkness,” he replied.
They smiled at each other, the silence turning easy.
XxXxXxXxXxX
A few days had passed. Enough for them each to get to know the other’s routines and for the excessive politeness of two strangers sharing a space to fade a bit.
Scully was sitting on the couch going over classwork when Mulder emerged from his room in running shorts and a ratty tee shirt with the sleeves cut off. The skin on his upper arms was paler than that of his lower arms, but had a delineated curve where deltoid met bicep. It took a minute to look away.
“Going for a run?” she asked a little too brightly.
“I was hoping to,” he said, sitting down in front of the front door to put on his running shoes. “Are there any good places around here?”
She set down the paper she was holding, thinking.
“There’s a park a few blocks away, over by the… you know what, it’ll be easier if I show you. Mind some company?”
“I’d love some,” he said, smiling.
“Be right back,” she said, and ran upstairs to change.
When she got back to the living room, he was stretching, one leg held up in a quad stretch, standing with the graceful ease of perfect balance.
“Ready?” she asked, pulling an old baseball cap over her messy ponytail.
He lowered his leg to the floor and swept his eyes over her once.
“As I’ll ever be,” he said.
They walked the first few blocks, with Scully taking the opportunity to point out various neighborhood hot spots -- the local gas station, the corner market.
When they got to the park nearby, she ducked under a low hanging tree to find the running path that ran near the outskirts.
“This way,” she said, and they started to jog.
After a few minutes, she threw him a look.
“I’m slowing you down,” she said, guiltily.
He was taking short strides next to her, keeping pace with her.
“Nonsense,” he said, staring straight ahead.
“Muder, your legs are about a foot longer than mine, you could run circles around me,” she said.
“Sounds like a good idea,” he said with a glimmer in his eye, and then pulled the hat off her head and started running in literal circles around her, hooting at her while she grabbed at the hat -- every time she got close, he’d pull it away, holding it behind his back or far above his head where she could never reach it. After a minute of keep away, they were both laughing and she pulled up, out of breath but with a smile on her face.
“I knew I was slowing you down,” she laughed, and bent to put her hands on her knees.
“Aw,” he said, putting the cap back on her head and pulling it low, “you’d have caught up eventually.”
He gave one last tug on the brim of the cap and they stood looking at each other, a moment passing between them. Scully felt something low in her belly, and there was a sharp look in Mulder’s eye.
“Why don’t you go ahead and get your miles in,” Scully said, taking a step back and breaking the moment. “You know how to get back?”
Mulder nodded at her.
“Sure you don’t want to come along?” he asked.
“Pass,” she said, “I’ll see you at home.”
He took a few steps backward, holding her eye and then turned and loped off back down the path, eating up the distance in long, even strides.
XxXxXxXxXxX
The days turned into a week and then two. Their schedules were pretty compatible, and they usually woke up and ate breakfast at about the same time, and then Scully would leave to head onto campus.
She came back on a Thursday afternoon, holding a folder full of medical school applications, her gut churning in nervous anticipation. Her MCAT scores were good. Hopefully good enough to secure at least one full ride scholarship. She closed the door to the apartment with her head in the clouds, and it took her a moment to notice Mulder, who was standing in the middle of the living room, holding the telephone. He was just lowering it from his ear and he had a queer look on his face.
“Mulder?” Scully said, “Everything okay?”
“I just accepted a job,” he said, looking a little surprised.
“What? That’s fantastic!” Scully said, swinging her backpack down to the floor and plopping the folder of applications on top of it.
“Yeah,” he said, and then moved to the wall to hang up the phone.
“You seem surprised,” Scully said, walking toward him.
“I am,” he said, turning toward her from the wall. “It’s the one I was hoping for. I did not expect to get it.”
“What’s the position?” Scully asked, moving to stand in front of him.
“I’ll be starting at one of the best Psychology practices in the Metro area. Low on the totem pole, but they’ve offered to train me until I get licensed.”
The surprise on his face melted slowly into happiness as the news started to sink in.
On a whim, Scully wrapped her arms around him in a hug. He returned it, warmly.
“Congratulations,” she said into his shirt, then looked up into his face. “This calls for a celebration.”
“Yeah?” he said, looking down at her with a smile. She felt color spreading up her cheeks. After a second they let their hands fall away from each other. “What’d you have in mind?” he asked, taking a step back.
“Drinks,” she said, taking a step back, herself. “There’s a great dive bar right down the street.”
“When can we leave?” he asked.
XxXxXxXxXxX
They were at least four drinks in, not counting the two tequila shots she’d insisted on when they first arrived. They’d both agreed their third drink should be water, and Scully had lost count after that. She had ordered a glass of the house Chardonnay (“It’s terrible, but also four dollars,”), and Mulder appeared to be pacing himself through a large gin and tonic, while Scully told a story.
“And then we said ‘follow that car!’” Scully said.
“You didn’t,” Mulder said.
“We did,” said Scully on a laugh, “but to our surprise the cabbie didn’t share in our excitement and instead slammed on the breaks half a block down the street and told us to get out.”
Mulder threw his head back and laughed.
They had started at the bar, but moved to a dark booth in the back when the place started filling up with the after-work crowd. Rush was playing too loud on the jukebox nearby. The drinks were cheap, the tables were sticky and the lighting was bad.
“I love this place,” Mulder said, looking around.
“Me too,” said Scully, watching the way his adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed his drink. “It’s the perfect dive bar.”
Mulder leaned back in the booth and leveled a look at her.
“Tell me about Dana Scully,” he said.
“There’s not much to tell,” she said, humbly.
“Nonsense,” he said, “a smart, beautiful woman like you? I bet you’ve got a lot going on.”
She ducked her head at the compliment. She’d noticed that he peered rather than looked. There was a ribald quality to his gaze, though she found herself more intrigued than intimidated. Mulder looked at her as if she were a question to be answered and she found herself hoping to be worthy of his inquiry.
“Boyfriend?” he prodded, taking a big drink. She rolled her eyes just thinking about Ethan. “Ha!” he went on, “there’s a story there. Tell it.”
He crunched ice from his glass, the dull sound brushing across her skin like a memory. He held the dewy tumbler in long, elegant fingers and for a moment she felt like a real, live grown-up.
She told him about Ethan. She probably shared more than she should have. How they’d started dating in high school when her father retired from the Navy and they moved to Maryland. She told him about her dreams of becoming a doctor and how she’d broken up with Ethan over it. When she finished, he held up his glass.
“Fuck that guy,” Mulder said, and clinked her glass with his.
“I did,” Scully said, and Mulder choked on his drink, laughing. While he recovered, Scully handed him a napkin and leaned back. “I tell you,” she went on, “I’m thrilled to be single right now.”
Mulder cut his eyes to her.
“Tell me about Fox Mulder,” she said, diverting the conversation, “smart, handsome guy like you? I bet you’ve got a lot going on.”
He smirked at her as he brushed the front of his shirt with the napkin.
“You said no girlfriend, right?” she asked, feeling brave.
“I’m thrilled to be single right now,” he said, giving her a look she couldn’t read. The silence stretched for a moment.
“Missy said you moved back for your sister?”
“That, and it was time to come back,” he said, sighing. He started shredding bits of the napkin onto the tabletop. “Sam is doing well in school, but that’s about it. She’s at the age where you leave home and strike out on your own but always have that parental support, that thing to fall back on, that place to go home to. Mom and Dad died just after she left for college, and… I think she feels like she was just expelled into the world before she was ready. She’s sad and angry, and I don’t quite know what to do for her. PhD in Psychology and here I am flapping in the breeze, not even able to help my own sister.”
Scully reached across the table and squeezed his arm.
He smiled self-consciously and stood. He looked brooding and slapdash in the half-light of the bar, stippled with 5 o’clock shadow and flecked with chips of light from a distant, dusty disco ball. She found herself wanting to run her hands through his sable hair and brush her lips over his cheek. She threw back the rest of her wine instead.
“We need another round,” he said.
“We really don’t,” Scully said, reaching up and feeling the end of her nose. When she had too much to drink, it went numb. She couldn’t feel it.
“Are we out celebrating me or not?” he said.
“We are.”
“Then I say we need another round,” and with that he walked to the bar, though when he came back, he was carrying two waters.
“Bartender insisted,” he said.
“He’s a good guy,” Scully said, waving in the direction of the bar. A nod from the bartender.
They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, drinking water and watching the bar fill up. Then Spirit of the Radio came on the jukebox and Mulder leaned back his head as if in ecstasy.
“I love this song,” he said.
“I had you pegged as an INXS guy,” Scully said.
“You wouldn’t be wrong,” he replied. He looked at her steadily. “Let’s dance.”
Scully looked skeptically towards what passed for a dance floor.
“Mulder, no one has danced here in at least a decade,” she said, thinking of a fifty-something barfly swaying by herself to Jolene .
“All the more reason,” he said, sliding out of the booth and holding out his hand. There was a rakish glint in his eye and his renegade jaw clenched once.
“I’m not drunk enough for this,” she said, though she put her hand in his and let him pull her up.
“Yes, you are,” he laughed and led her to the middle of the floor.
She was definitely drunk enough because it took nothing at all for her to start dancing. The bartender, who knew her from more than a few nights out with Ellen, smiled at her and bent down under the bar. A second or two later the volume of the music went up and he stood, giving her a thumbs up. She laughed and let herself go.
When the guitar solo started in the middle of the song, Mulder leaned back and started playing an air guitar, throwing his head into it with enthusiasm.
“You’re such a dork!” Scully yelled to him over the music.
“You love it!” he yelled back.
She had to admit, she kind of did. She liked that he seemed to live his life not caring what other people thought of him. It was a lesson she should probably learn herself.
When the song ended and Tom Sawyer came on, she took a step back, and looked up at him. She was sweaty and suddenly self-conscious, feeling like a goldfish in a bowl.
“We should go home,” she said, feeling a lot drunker than she thought she’d been, “get some food.”
He stood up straight, as if gauging how he felt and swayed just a bit.
“You’re right,” he said, “we should.”
They strolled to the bar to settle their tab, and he wouldn’t hear of letting her pay.
They walked out of the bar and were surprised to find that night had fallen. The sudden silence settled over them like a heavy blanket. The air was so fresh it almost hurt to breathe it.
“You should have let me pay,” Scully said, speaking too loudly, her ears ringing with a brief tinnitus from the music. She lowered her voice, “we’re celebrating your accomplishment.”
“Well, my accomplishment is going to pay a lot better than your post-grad stipend, I guarantee you.”
“Still…” she said, and then tripped over the curb.
Mulder reached out and grabbed her arm, saving her from a face plant.
“All hands on deck!” he said, and she smiled and looked up at him gratefully. He slid his hand down her arm and took her hand. “Two blocks to go,” he said, “we got this.”
His hand was warm in hers, dry. She squeezed it. Inhibitions lowered, she could feel herself falling for him a little, against her will.
When they got to their building, there was a young woman sitting on the steps out front with her arms crossed, looking like she was on the verge of tears. When the woman heard them, she turned to look and her face registered surprise and, when her gaze dropped to their linked hands, unhappy confusion.
Scully suddenly wondered if Mulder actually did have a girlfriend and she felt her stomach reel.
“Sam!” Mulder said, dropping her hand. He lurched forward and grabbed the woman in a bear hug.
“Get off, Fox,” she said, pushing him back, “you smell like a frat party.”
Mulder’s face fell.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“What’s wrong ?” the woman’s voice went up an entire octave, “you told me to come here at 7:30. I’ve been sitting out here for an hour and a half!”
“Shit,” Mulder swore. “I’m so sorry.” His apology did nothing to improve her demeanor.
Mulder then seemed to remember Scully’s presence.
“Oh,” he said, “Sam, this is my new roommate Dana Scully. Scully, this is Samantha, my sister.”
“Scully?” Samantha said, and made no move to shake hands. “You’re still doing that last name thing?” Her eye roll was implied.
“Let’s go inside,” Scully said, for something to do, and pulled out her keys to unlock the building’s door. When she got the key close to the lock, she dropped the whole ring. She could hear Samantha sighing in annoyance behind her.
“So, you went out partying instead of meeting me,” Samantha said, her voice flat. “Awesome.”
Scully recovered, got the door open and they all trooped up the stairs to the apartment in silence.
Once inside, Scully knelt to pick up the backpack and envelope of applications she’d dropped by the door earlier and made her way to the stairs.
“I’ll let you two catch up,” she said, excusing herself.
Mulder threw her an apologetic look. She flopped on the bed when she got to her room, applications forgotten until tomorrow.
137 notes
·
View notes
Text
L’appel Du Vide Chapter 9- Can You Pass The Salt
Eventual Dean X OC
Summary: When Hope’s sister is killed in a less than a normal house fire, and Sam, her sister’s boyfriend, disappears with his brother after her death they’re her number one suspects. When the cops declare the case cold she begins her hunt for the Winchester boys. She follows them in hope for some evidence pointing to the death of her sister, but will she find more than just the cause and the killer? Will she find out more than she wanted to?
Warnings: Short chapter with no meaning.
Word Count: 1352
Turns out finding information about prison releases is harder than originally assumed. The second trial was done almost two months after the courthouse fire. Johnson's son, a boy named Elliot, was tried for aggravated arson and first-degree murder. He was convicted to jail for the rest of his pathetic life and the families of the people he had killed were consoled and the town had mostly forgotten about the whole issue. Although when driving past the empty mansion that sat on the top of the golf course people would whisper about the fire and Elliot and what had happened 25 years ago. it wasn't until recently that things had begun to stir again, the judge who had originally convicted the young kid is now releasing him on account to good behavior. I assume the good behavior also had something to do with the good money his father seemed to continue to hand out to anyone who asked but it seems that after Elliot's father passed away last month and the fortune was passed down to him awaits him the prize seemed not only to wait for Elliot but also for anyone who helped his case as well. After his release, the events following had begun the suspicion that took me to the sunny California town of Auburn, California. It was after reading about how the town was the birthplace of George and Lennie in the novel Of Mice and Men that I finally gave up my search in finding any additional information on the murders. It seemed that no one cared for the deaths of almost sixteen people but more for the stolen youth of an old money asshole.
The need for additional evidence and information was evident. It had gone in the newspaper only two days ago that the same judge had 'combusted' in the middle of a court hearing. Information was limited all that was said was that the man had literally gone up in flames. The event had peaked my suspicion, a man bursting into flames in the middle of something as mediocre as a hearing seemed similar to Jess' case.
The town was clean, I was quickly able to find the records pretty easily, the police station had them their basement. I went under the letter J in the 70's folder. The name Johnson came up more times than I could possibly count, I took the bunch of them and headed back to the hotel that I came from already missing the rose scented soap that they had in their clean bathroom.
My adventure through town was a short one full of mostly window shopping and cups of coffee at the local coffee shop. I was only halfway through all of the Johnson's filed in the boxes and on my third or fourth cup of coffee. It was sweet and sugar-filled, I skimmed through many of the Johnson files until finally, I came across something juicy. The other case files mainly consisted of speeding tickets or an occasional shoplifter, this one was an arson report. It was filed against Elliot Johnson, setting the field outside of town on fire. It was his first offense nothing after this seemed to imply anything jail worthy, apparently the kid got a taste of it and then couldn't stop.
The kid was pretty loaded, private everything, school, and life. He was the son of one of the old money guys someone who struck it rich and got lucky but blamed it on hard work. Elliot was captain of the football team, he got semi-good grades, and seemed to live a privileged life all around. I couldn't even begin to understand why this kid would throw it all away for something so destructive and aggressive. I guess that's why I'm here though to figure out what the hell this guy is doing. If this was some sick power play thing that Sam was into or if he truly just liked fire as Elliot did.
But as I sipped the lukewarm coffee I wondered how the hell this kid who just got out of jail managed to have this judge set himself on fire in such a way that there was no evidence to point to this result. I continued reading through this kid's file, the convictions continued with little evidence, leading to little punishment. Until finally, I came across the big one. The boy during one of his larger convictions paid off one of the jurors to set a fire. It must have been one big buck because the asshole died in the fire that he started, the kid escaped with the judge, and lawyer escaped the fiery terror that Elliot had created.
The coffee shop begins to close as the light of day drains out of Auburn, and I throw the file on top of the others ready to explore more. I fling open the door to Theo and put all of the papers in the passenger seat and plop myself into the familiar leather seat of Theo. I drive for only about ten minutes humming along to Billy Joel and tapping my fingers trying to put together the pieces of the story. Why the hell would Elliot, a man who just got out of jail try and murder the guy that got him out in the first place? The idea is lost to me and I eventually pull into the cleanly motel with a small smile my face happy to be greeted with good room service and fluffy white pillows and a working hot shower.
The room had been serviced and a mint sat on the pillow and everything was made again, the bed and new towels were put up, and new replacements of shampoo and conditioner were sitting on the counter top calling my name. I set the stacks of documents on the table near the window and close the blinds. I undress from my leather jacket and tight turtle neck undressing as I finally reach the shower and finally pulling off my boots and placing them right outside of the bathroom door. I grab the rose scented products and head into the shower.
The shower was warm, I stayed in there until my skin turned a brilliant shade of pink and then I finally got out. I dried my rose-smelling hair with the towel making the already visible waves more pronounced and I grabbed one of the fluffy towels, I wrapped it around myself and almost squealed when I saw that the motel also provided lotion in the same scent. I spent a good ten minutes slowly massaging the nice smelling lotion into my legs, and arms. I felt more relaxed than I had in a while, I felt content.
I looked at the darkening sky through the edge of the window and then to the ominous notes that lay in the files. I decided against the latter option and began my night rituals, I pulled my hair out of the hair twistie thing that I made out of the towel and made it hang from the bathroom door, I pulled my hair up into a messy bun and pulled out my glasses which I placed next to my contact case. I had taken them out before I took a shower and was thankful to have my own eyes again. I brushed my teeth with some cheap toothpaste that I picked up at the convenience store only to find that it was cinnamon flavored. This seemed to be a silver lining though because after putting on my giant sweatshirt and a pair of sleep shorts I rediscovered the mint sitting on my pillow and ate it happily as I crawled into the neat bed.
I began to fall into the overwhelming darkness that I was met with and I began fiddling with my necklace, I felt a whiff of cold air and cuddled further into the sheets and blanket. I let sleep overtake me. I felt safe and I smiled.
It was as if my sister was looking down on me and smiling for the first time in months.
#dean winchester#dean x OC#character death#jessica moore#jessica moore sister#original character#angst#spn fanfiction#SPN#supernatural series#supernatural fanfiction#supernatural series rewrite#supernatural#slow burn#long series#series
3 notes
·
View notes
Text
Beautiful - Chapter 10
This is it! Wow I can’t believe I’ve been writing this story for over 2 years. I finally got enough of an idea together to piece together the final chapter. Thanks a lot to Mislav again for requesting this fic, it’s truly been a treasure to write and to receive help from you when I got stuck and it was great to get your lovely holiday messages. Thanks to everyone else who stuck through with this one even when I take long breaks because I do dumb shit like lose my laptop charger for a month straight. But this is it for Beautiful. Hopefully I’ll get another one cranking out soon enough.
Sherlock rubs the bridge of his nose in frustration. It's been nearly a week since they had taken the case against Liam Miller and thus far they have no sign that the man had ever even existed. Any lead they found turned to dead ends and even Everyone seemed at a loss for this mystery man. He’s had Mason go through every database to see if he could find a facial match for this man, but still to no avail. Either they were all making up this man or he’s effectively disappeared.
The sound of the door opening calls his attention but he does not look up. Watson greets the delivery man kindly and engages in polite pleasantries before closing the door once more. “Thai’s here!” He follows her footsteps until she stops right behind him. “And you haven’t moved since I left.”
“We’re missing something.”
“You’re obsessing.”
“Of course I am. There’s a missing sociopath on the loose and we don’t even know his name.”
“They could be lying. Delays their cases in court until they can get solid attorneys to reduce their sentences as much as possible.” She shrugs unpacking the food from the paper bag.
“What would be the point in confessing? Besides, I refuse to believe an imbecile like Simon Lee could fool my lie detection.”
“Even though he and his wife were literally designing a machine that could track lies better than a polygraph.” She deadpans. “No case while eating, you’ll get food all over the papers.” She plucks the file from his hand tossing it onto the ever growing pile of folders and loose papers. “They only packed one set of chopsticks you’ll have to go get a fork from the kitchen.” She folds herself neatly into the spot next to him crossing her legs beneath her.
“Why do you get the chopsticks?”
“Finders keepers.” She shrugs simply. He ponders her for a minute teetering between giving in and going to fetch a fork or arguing his point. He settles for another tactic in the end delivering a swift jab to the side of her ribs. He’d discovered one night when she flinched away from his touch that Watson’s sides are extremely ticklish. She lets out a cry of betrayal folding in on herself to protect from further attacks. Using her brief moment of distraction he snatches the chopsticks from her fingers with a triumphant grin.
The look on her face displays utter shock and a flash of determination. He’s now tempted the beast inside of her and he knows this is going to be a battle between the two of them. She moves quickly on him using high ground to try and reach for the utensils, which he now held high in the air. Even with her sitting atop him she’s just out of reach of them. However, he realizes far too late that reaching them was never her plan in the first place. Using the diversion of her raised hand, her other attacks his exposed underarm tickling him just as he had her. Yet she doesn’t stop when she retrieves the chopsticks once more. Rather, she continues her assault while he squirms beneath her.
“Watson!” He pleads between laughter. Still she doesn’t stop, he does the only thing he can think of doing and leans forward nipping at her exposed collar bone. Her movements cease immediately and she stares at him in shock.
“Did you just bite me?” She laughs, a melodic tone that chases away all of his playfulness. He loves her laugh almost as much as he loves her frustrated shout of his name. “You’re such a child.”
“Weren’t you just the one who said finders keepers?” He fires back but still he’s enraptured by the sight of her. Her cheeks are flushed from laughter, loose tendrils fallen out of the messy bun that had secured her hair to the top of her head. They’d mainly remained in the Brownstone, aside from him taking a short trip to retrieve new copies of the files, so she’s without makeup allowing her freckles to shine through the dim light of the living room. Her legs are straddling his waist making the moment all the more difficult to contain himself. He waits, though, until her eyes seem to settle into the same mood as he. Her dark gaze flickers from his eyes to his mouth and back again, her breath catches as he takes the small signal as permission to press his lips against the smooth column of her throat.
“Sherlock,” A gasp escapes her as he trails over the spot he just bit. His tongue laps against her skin sending her hips bucking against his. Her fingers pull his shirt free from their tuck into his pants making quick work of the buttons along her way. His own trail up her bare thighs teasing the edge of the pj shorts she’s wearing. Once she’s finished with the buttons he leans forwards so that she can push his shirt off of his shoulders, exposing his chest to her. With his new position he nudges aside her tee planting kisses and bites to her collar bone.
She shucks off her cardigan first and then her tee shirt revealing her breasts to his willing gaze. He takes advantage of the new expanse as his hands roam up her back. As he catches a nipple in between his lips, he pulls her hair free burying his fingers in the dark strands. A sensuous moan vibrates from her chest as her hands hold his neck, clinging him to her. He kicks off his shoes before flipping them on the couch so that she’s pinned beneath him. She pulls her head to his as their lips finally meet, tongues tangling in a secret dance. She whines into his mouth as he presses his hips against hers letting her know just how much he wants this.
Finally they pull apart for air and he sits up to remove his pants. He kicks them away along with his boxers as she does the same. “I need you.” Her voice is laden with lust as she pulls him back to her, wrapping her legs around his back. He braces his hands next to her head as he lines up. What’s remaining of his sense screams a word at him, condom. They’d been exclusive since they kissed the second time, when she wasn’t drunk. Still, every time they’ve had sex they’ve used protection. However, this being their first journey outside of the bedroom he’s beginning to wonder if he should hide them in possible places throughout the Brownstone that are more accessible than his previous ones. Though previously he was hiding them from her. Now he needs them for her. His mind wanders momentarily picturing some lovely hiding spots on the roof where they could get carried away.
“Sherlock.” Her plea brings him back.
“Condom.” He groans in return. He doesn’t want to leave her touch. Not now.
“Desk.” She hums against his skin, perfect teeth marking him as her own. She smiles against his shoulder as if she could see his expression as his mind connects the dots. She’s already hidden some. The thought sends electricity up and down his spine and he kisses her once again telling her exactly how wonderful she is with no words spoken. Excitement burns within him to find all the places with her. He reaches up pulling out the drawer and sure enough a condom sits just within his reach.
He makes quick work of the packaging sliding it on to himself. She watches his face the entire time lips slightly parted breathing heavily. He lines himself up sliding into her easily. The movement pushes her head against the arm of the couch as her nails dig into his back. He starts his rhythm slow and torturous only dragging against her. He mimics the movements with his lips, just barely brushing the skin of her neck allowing her to feel his hot breath fanning against her. He lets the thoughts of the case, of Liam Miller and the mystery surrounding them fade into the background. His focus is too preoccupied by the small noises that he can feel against his mouth. Little whimpers that wouldn’t be heard if he were anyone else. She’s holding them in, he can feel it in the tension in her jaw.
“I want to hear you.” He rasps brushing his stubble against her skin. He’d long ago discovered that she loves the feel of it against her, especially when he’s buried between her legs.
“I want you to go faster.” She challenges tightening her legs around him. He can do little but obey. He wants to know all he can about her. He can’t get enough of it. He can’t get enough of her. His strokes gain grow quicker and harder and as his reward she tosses her head back, her moans and sighs mixing in the air with the sounds of them coming together.
He groans her name against her skin as her ankles dig into the backs of his thighs. Her nails are scraping down his back sure to leave angry red marks in their place but he can’t bring himself to care when she’s thrown all abandon out the window and let him see her a glimpse at her so out of control.
“Fuck!” Her hips buck as he hits a spot deep within her interrupting their rhythm. He curls his in response hitting again the same spot repeatedly. He can feel her thighs trembling against his and her breathing escaping arrhythmically. It only takes three more taps against that spot before her jaw drops open in a silent scream and she shakes apart beneath him. He allows himself to let go as well since he’d been holding himself against the edge since her whimpers began. As he falls into the abyss he’s struck by the thought that there’s no other he’d rather cling to in oblivion than her.
He places one last rapturous kiss against his shoulder as they both come down from their highs. When her legs release their death grip on his hips, he slips out of her tying off the condom and disposing it in the trash can that he’d initially dragged into the room for discarded theories but he much prefers this use.
He flips them over so that she lies against his chest as they cool down in post-coital bliss. He can feel her lips huffing breaths against his shoulder, he can feel it in how her diaphragm expands raising her back. Her fingers find the tattoo on his hip tracing the design in peaceful tranquility.
The doorbell quickly breaks their moment, eyes flashing up to each other in alarm. Relaxing, forgotten they pull on their clothes as quickly as possible. He goes to the door while Watson disappears into the back rooms, likely to make herself look less ravaged. He opens the door finding a tired looking Marcus holding a file.
“Is there a reason you two aren’t answering your phones?” The detective questions upon seeing him.
“Apologies. We were conducting an experiment.”
“Just keep your phones near you okay?” He asks to which Sherlock gives a jerky nod. He casts a glance to the archway when he sees movement from his peripheral. Watson stands listening into the conversation but otherwise doesn’t make her presence known. “We found the kids.”
“Are they unharmed?”
“Their at a hotel in Massachusetts. I got some guys keeping an eye on them but for now we’re just going to let them be as long as they’re not causing any trouble.” He passes him the file and he flips it open to see a capture from a recording that caught the son of Lena Murphy on it. “He checked in under the name Tom Marvolvo, had an ID and everything. How the kid got the money and resources so fast I couldn’t tell you.”
“Do you think one of the parents helped them escape?” Marcus shrugs rubbing between his eyes. “Thank you Marcus.” He says goodbye to the detective offering to greet Watson for him despite her standing just out of sight. Once the door closes he turns to his partner who is laughing quietly.
“Well that was close.”
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Sherlock glances at the clock for the fourth time that morning, waiting for an “appropriate” time to wake Watson. They had long ago agreed on a minimum time he could wake her unless it was absolutely imperative to the case at hand. As the hand on the clock crosses to 5:30 he bounds up the steps two at a time ready to go wake her with a checkers table boxed and tucked beneath his arm. He pushes the door open slowly allowing his eyes to adjust to the darkness in the room. When his sight is clear it is very apparent that Watson is not in her bed.
Unreasonable panic seizes in his chest. He hadn’t heard her get up to go to the bathroom but he checks regardless. Empty. Against logic he checks every room on the top floor with absolutely no sign of her. “Watson!” He calls her name unable to control his fears now. There’s no signs of a break in, the logic screams but it’s quickly snuffed by fear. He runs around the next level shouting her name not caring about being a considerate roommate or neighbor.
In a last ditch effort he faces the cold without a coat, running to the back door where their basement entrance is. He pushes the door open immediately noting light filtering from the other room. He holds his breath not knowing what he will find as he rounds the corner.
He nearly weeps in relief when he spies Watson asleep at her desk on top of a pile of papers. Allowing himself a moment to catch his breath he gently wakes her with a hand on her shoulder.
She startles despite the gentle touch, glasses finally slipping off her face and clanging loudly onto the floor. She blinks blearily up at him murmuring apologies. He feels the panic edge away and he sighs settling into the chair beside her. “You didn’t hear me shouting your name.” Even in her sleep ridden state she can register the lingers of fear. Concern clouds her gaze pulling her into full consciousness quickly.
“I was down here all night. I thought you heard me come down.” He shakes his head. “I must’ve fallen asleep.” She picks her glasses back up pulling one of the files closer to her to show to him. “After Marcus left I couldn’t shake that something was up with this whole thing. Like Liam Miller exists but we can’t find any record of him whatsoever.”
“It’s an alias.”
“Lena Murphy’s son used the name ‘Tom Marvolvo’ to check into the motel, right?” He nods in confirmation of what she surely already knows. “Well it’s from Harry Potter. It’s an anagram by used for exposition by the villian. The anagram is ‘Tom Marvolvo Ridde’ but he reveals it to mean ‘I am Lord Voldemort.’ So I thought, ‘What if Liam Miller is an anagram?’” She stands walking over to a chalkboard with nearly 60 results written neatly. She points to one she underlined glancing back at him.
“Rille al mim?” He echoes, confused.
“I knew it sounded familiar so I did some digging. ‘Rille Al Mim’ is a spell. It’s appeared in one of the books in the first issue of Doctor Strange. I recognized it because Oren had a replica of this book when he was growing up. He and a couple of his friends made it.”
“What does this have to do with Liam Miller?”
“I’m getting there.” She moves quickly back to her desk. “A couple weeks ago Oren called laughing about how one of the original prints for the first issue of Doctor Strange sold for $1.2 million. The buyer was an absolute fanatic and boasted on issues that he had entire collections. But, in the interest of keeping himself private he insisted that no pictures be taken of him and any interview would use a pseudonym.” She turns the computer to him revealing the headline of the article she was pulling up. “Rille al mim. So I contacted Everyone and tracked this guy’s IP Address. It leads back to a business, Dorian Entertainment which nobody has gotten a photograph of the notoriously private CEO. Only drawings.” She switches the tab revealing one of the photographs to be a nearly perfect match for their mystery man.
Even after all of these years he still feels a swell of pride in his chest when Watson makes a successful deduction and this time is not an exception. He can’t help the smile that blooms on his face. “Remarkable.” He places a kiss to her forehead unable to contain his pride in her. “You’re remarkable.”
“We would’ve found it out eventually. We always do.” She blushes but her own smile says it all. He drags out the chair not far from her to begin formulating their plan on how to catch this man.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
In the end it’s a stakeout that requires their expertise. They lack evidence to connect Dorian Lancaster and thus retrieve a warrant. All they need is to get a photo with the man in the background, question one of the parents if this is the man they knew as Liam Miller, and that should be enough.
Sure enough a press event on a yacht provides a perfect cover for the two of them. Posing as his date and aided by his father’s overwhelming influence, he and Watson infiltrate the party. He does his best not to fidget with the bowtie considering the heavy dress Watson needed to succumb to. She flashes him a quick smile before they part. They’d agreed two days prior that splitting up would be the best tactic at getting the picture they need. It would aid them to work as quickly as humanly possible. Should he strike again or should there be more families this man is blackmailing it could be mere moments before another body gets added to the list.
Combing through the crowd turns out, is easier said than done. The boat is flooded with press and celebrities alike. It does not do well for his senses and he finds himself overwhelmed quickly. The flashing of cameras constantly calls for his attention as well as the music that thumps so loudly he can feel the bass shaking his chest. He keeps focused on the tip of the boat to keep himself grounded, so to say. Watson would suffice as an anchor but he hasn’t spotted her since they arrived nearly an hour ago now.
Finally, it’s a blue suit that captures his attention. The man moves too quickly for Sherlock to say with certainty that he’s the man they’re looking for so he follows in pursuit. The man stops occasionally to make small talk but he seems to move with a purpose across the boat. His eyes remain focused on him, now able to drown out the other distractions. He simply needs the man to turn so he can snap a picture.
He considers throwing his voice and calling for the man to get his attention. This thought is interrupted when he spies the midnight blue dress Watson was sporting straight ahead. Surely enough, her back is turned to the steadily approaching two. Yet, it’s her phone held above her head that tells him she’s all too aware of their presence. In the guise of an innocent selfie she’s able to snap a picture of the man moving. He smiles with pride yet again, leave it to Watson to beat him to the punch. Since that’s all they need they can slip right out with none the wiser knowing they were even there.
“Miss Watson!” Sherlock’s heart sinks as a voice that is very much not his, calls out her name. Even staring at the back of his head, he knows the shout had come from their suspect. How did he know who she is and what does he want from her.
She spins around with an all too innocent smile. She raises an eyebrow as if she didn’t know who he was or how many were killed under his power.
He’s too far to stop what happens. Two hands grasp her by the shoulders and push her over the railing. She disappears over the edge with barely a shout of surprise.
“Watson!” Panic seizes through his entire body as he moves into action. He kicks off both shoes and shucks his jacket off his shoulders without a thought to it. In the seconds it takes him to rid of clothes that could pull him down into the black depths, he’s calculated exactly how much air she’d have. Should she be unconscious there’s no telling how he could find her. Only the ripple of the dark waters marks where she was. Still he leaps over the side. He gives not a moment of thought to their fleeing killer. He can’t spare a moment when he can’t see her coming back up.
He breaks the surface after his dive, water flicking off of him as he desperately looks around for any sign of life. “Watson!” He shouts again. He can hear the distant screams of onlookers spotting him in the water getting help. He’s not the one who needs it though, can’t they see.
He dives under the water despite his better judgement. In the dark of the night there’s not a chance he’d be able to see more than five feet in front of him beneath the surface. Her dress will weigh her down. Even if she’s conscious, she won’t be able to fight that for long.
A flash of a light and frantic shouting pulls him from his doubt. Following the flashlights’ beams he sees it just as they do. Pale skin breaks the surface for a moment before disappearing again. He swims to her as fast as he possibly can, heart pounding in his ears. Slim fingers grasp the front of his dress shirt and he almost sobs with relief.
He pulls her by the arms above water where she takes gulping breaths of air. It’s awkward, holding her up and keeping them both above water at the same time but he has her. She’s breathing.
Another boat rescues them in record time thanks to the assistance of those who were on board. On shore they’re separated to check for injuries. Despite his many protests, he relents to the check up. He hadn’t suffered from the fall at all, in fact he dove into the water. The paramedics, however, don’t seem to see it from his side at all. He taps his foot waiting to get the all clear so he can just see her damn it.
Just as they were finishing, however, damp black hair catches his eyes. She walks towards him slowly, still shivering despite the heavy blanket draped over her shoulders. No amount of paramedics could keep him seated as he rushed to her. He grips her neck pressing her forehead against his as if she’d disappear if she strayed any further. Emotions rush to the surface all at once as he imagines all of the horrific ways he could have lost her over the years. But for her to just be gone without him ever knowing if she lived. It was the worst fate.
“Hey,” Watson whispers shaking fingers coming to rest on his cheeks. “I’m okay. I’m here.” He can’t stop the tears that slide down his face as he mentally thanks those who spotted her before him. Had it not been for the obnoxious amount of people, god. “Sherlock.” He opens his eyes meeting her dark ones, a soft smile on her face. “I’m here.” A gentle thumb brushes away the tears and he allows her presence to sweep over him. Her all too calm nature, the smell of her shampoo, the once silky dress pressed against his front.
God, they must be a sight.
With a little bit of time they find that thanks to the police force surrounding the boat, Dorian Lancaster was swiped up as he attempted to make his escape. The press pictures of his arrest would be more than enough to identify him whether Watson’s phone survives the ordeal or not. It’s Marcus who dismisses him that night. Any further investigations could be done in the morning. For now they needed to get home and rest.
But rest is the furthest thing from Sherlock’s mind. Not when he had come so close to losing her. Not when should she have died there’d be so much left unsaid.
Still Watson takes the advice seriously, taking a short shower before retiring to her bed. He tries all he can to do any sort of work but the memories are too fresh. The pain and panic resting in his chest all too real. He’d only felt the tempting of it when he thought she was gone, but to watch her fall. It was horrific.
The flashing of the memory is what leads him here. Standing over her bed with her back turned to him. Any other time he’d recognize the arrhythmic breathing as an indicator that she was still awake. Any other time he’d be able to resist the pull of his emotions. Any other time but right now. He pulls his shirt off before climbing into bed behind her. His arms wrap around her frame, wrapped in her cardigan, pressing his face between her shoulder blades. He feels more than hears her sigh in content as she settles into the embrace.
So many words rush to the forefront of his mind. Words he thought he’d never say to anyone. He wants so badly to tell her how much she means to him, how important she is. He can’t bring himself to. Not when it’d be so easy to lose her. Not when so many people seem more than eager to pull them apart.
Yet it’s the gentle squeeze on his hand that tells him more than enough. She knows. She feels the same. She is okay.
He makes it his mantra as he drifts off to sleep holding her in his arms.
#joanlock#joan watson x sherlock holmes#sherlock x joan#joan watson#Sherlock Holmes#beautiful#one night stand au#elementary#elementary cbs#elementary au
20 notes
·
View notes
Text
Shameless - DKS
Do Kyungsoo x Reader
a/n: I genuinely have no idea um
Wasn't he supposed to like this? Lots of guys asked their girlfriends for nudes and didn't get any, but here you were - sending them to Kyungsoo every opportunity you got.
Sent.
The red arrow pointing to the right indicated that your message was delivered to Kyungsoo successfully. Okay, this was good.
Well, maybe not.
Kyungsoo, your boyfriend, had a habit of opening the racy pictures you'd send him, replaying them and not replying. At all.
On more than one occasion, you'd been getting ready for work and a wicked thought crossed your mind - sending Kyungsoo a photo of yourself in your underwear.
It enticed you - the entire thought of it. Him opening the picture in probably the worst setting ever, but instantly replaying them once he'd watched them once, and you wondered just how he felt in that very moment.
Of course, once he got home, he mentioned nothing of the sort and neither did you - waiting for the day that he'd finally break.
That didn't seem to be anytime soon though, as there was no reply to the photo, so you sighed and continued to get dressed for work.
Once at work, you were given a ridiculously large amount of paperwork to sort through by your boss and it made you sigh. Still you begun, sorting through the great expanse of folders.
After 3 hours of filtering through the documents, your boss demanded you take a break to get something to eat and rejuvenate. Of course you didn't deny, taking the opportunity to head to the break room where lunch was being served. The line seemed a bit long, so you told someone to save your space while you headed to the bathroom.
When you entered, you made sure that no one was in there with you, locking the door quickly once it was clear.
You lifted your skirt, placing your finger onto the crotch of your panties and snapping a picture, adding no caption except for the wet emoji.
Once it was sent - you began to get nervous. You weren't sure why, but it was a good kind of nervous. You hoped he'd be doing something important and then open the message - thinking nothing of it, then faltering once he saw, attracting attention to himself. That would be funny.
Not too long after, he opened the image, replayed it and then that was it. No reply, nothing.
You rolled your eyes but couldn't say you weren't used to it. This was Kyungsoo we were talking about here.
But everyone has a breaking point don't they? You just need to find his.
After work, you left for your apartment, exhausted. Once you got there, you immediately began getting undressed and hopping into the shower to help you relax a little.
The shower washed away your tension and now you just felt like taking a long nap to kill time before Kyungsoo got home.
Then you had an idea.
You got out the shower, getting your phone and standing in front of the mirror, snapping a few pictures of your still-wet body. You made sure to do a few different poses, and then you'd filter them out and separate your favourite from the others.
Once you'd got enough pictures your towel dried your body and got dressed. Nothing too fussy, just a t-shirt and a pair of panties. You looked at the pictures and decided your favourite, opening Kyungsoo's chat and selecting the picture, captioning it 'Soo's', squealing as it sent.
You'd never sent him a fully naked picture, always sending more teasing ones, but obviously you need to step your game up if you wanted a reaction out of him.
You sat and waited for a bit, thinking of getting something to eat as you did so, but there was no reply. He didn't even replay it!
You were upset. Wasn't he supposed to like this? Lots of guys asked their girlfriends for nudes and didn't get any, but here you were - sending them to Kyungsoo every opportunity you got, but
Maybe he was tired of you. The thought made your shoulders sag and all excitement leave your being. Of course he'd love and worship you - but that would only be for so long. What if he was bored with you? What if he was cheating on you?
You shook your head, appetite disappearing completely. Instead of making yourself sad, you decided to just take your nap, but couldn't help the tears that fell as your head hit the pillow.
A few hours later, your body decided that your appetite was very much back and figured it would wake you up for some food. You groaned at the hollow feeling in your stomach, checking your phone quickly before you did something about said feeling.
Once you got the phone open, you realised that you received a snapchat notification. You opened it quickly, being taken to the chat and then selecting 'Tap to view' and waited until it loaded.
It was a purple notification. A video.
Maybe it was him telling you how annoyed he was of you sending those pictures, or a video of him simply staring into the camera as if he could stare down into your soul through the device.
You didn't speculate anymore, as the snap had loaded and was ready to be watched.
You sure as hell weren't expecting this.
It was a video of Kyungsoo - well not really him, because you couldn't see him, but you knew that it was. It was actually a video of his hand, wrapped around his extremely hard cock, jerking quickly as if in a rush. He fisted his shaft tightly, deep groans coming out of his mouth as he leaned back onto the wall. His tip was pink and his thighs began clenching as his orgasm washed over him, spurts of it flying somewhere you couldn't see and the rest of it running down his cock and onto his hand. You were barely able to read the caption before the video was gone.
'Just jerking off for the 3rd time today'
You choked once the video had stopped. Unfortunately, there was no time to react because the front door was being shut as someone made their presence known.
Oh God oh God. He was here.
You threw the phone down, scrambling to fix your hair as best as possible, but why? He was always so nonchalant after you sent nudes, why couldn't you be nonchalant about this?
Except you couldn't stop thinking about how he sounded as he came - not to mention how hard he was. To say you were affected was an understatement.
"Babe?" he called loudly and you took a deep breath, pulling yourself together and walking into the living room where Kyungsoo sat in the plush, leather couch, head thrown back and a look of exhaustion on his face.
"Hi, baby," You knelt beside him as he pulled you into a chaste kiss. "You look tired,"
"I am," he groaned, "We had to record today - then we had dance practice and Jongin kept messing up,"
"Kai?" you asked incredulously and he nodded tiredly, "Doesn't sound like him,"
"Exactly,"
"Everyone has off days, though," You added, "Maybe today was his,"
"I suppose," Kyungsoo shrugged, but barely, "Can we stop talking about him, though?"
You hummed in agreement, "Sure. What would you like to talk about?"
"Let's talk about those pictures you sent," his voice dropped literally 2 octaves, "And continue to send,"
You tensed at that, having figured he didn't want to talk about that, but apparently you were wrong. When you said nothing, he grabbed your hand and pulled you towards him, a gasp leaving your lips once you collided with his chest - him having sat up.
"You're quiet now?" he spoke lowly, hand gripping the hem of the t-shirt you wore, "You seemed so bold - sending all those pictures, knowing that the other members could see them,"
You still said nothing, and it seemed to agitate him, but he continued, "I bet you were hoping I'd open it near them so they could see, huh?"
Of course you didn't want them to see it, and you were sure he didn't want them to see even more, but the implication was hot.
"I was so hard today - you wouldn't believe," Kyungsoo let out a humourless laugh, his right hand moving upwards to pull the t-shirt up, but not removing it, "It was easy to hide while I recorded and eventually it went down, then you sent the one of you in that little skirt. Lifted over your hips and my self control slipped for a second," he paused to lick his lips, his left hand ghosting over your thigh - dangerously close to where you needed him the most, "And then - then during our dance break, I check my phone and there's a fucking naked picture of you!"
He chuckled a bit, "I was rock hard instantly. I was jerking off for about 5 minutes before I decided to make that video - hopefully fuck you up like you did to me,"
His left hand finally made its way to where you were dripping, soaking through your panties, smiling once he'd discovered your arousal.
"Looks like it went both ways," he smiled, and it wasn't really his cute, shy smile that he usually did, but a devious grin followed by another lick of his lips.
"Kyungsoo," you whined, grinding against his palm, "Please, do something,"
"Hmm," His eyebrows pulled together, "Should I? Or should I tease you like you did me?"
You shook your head quickly, and Kyungsoo decided to have mercy on you, sliding your panties out of the way to slide not one, but two fingers into you - filling you immediately.
Kyungsoo bit his lip, watching as his fingers disappeared inside of you, arousal gathering and moistening his palm.
"Look at you - you're so wet," he groaned at the tightness around his fingers, "Taking both of my fingers just like that,"
Once the discomfort had faded, you began to rock your hips against Kyungsoo's hand. You pressed your face to his neck, sucking hickeys - even though you know you knew you shouldn't. He didn't complain though, moaning and occasionally bucking his hips up.
You could feel yourself nearing climax, Kyungsoo ceasing his actions then completely removing his fingers from inside you once he felt your walls begin to clench around them. He laughed when a whine left your lips, your hips chasing after his hand but he held you still, tugging the panties down your thighs and allowing you to step out of them.
"Why'd you stop?" you asked, sort of annoyed/sort of disappointed, "I thought you were tired,"
"I am, actually," Kyungsoo pointed out, unbuttoning his pants, tapping you so he could pull his pants down along with his boxers, "Which is why you're going to ride me,"
He pulled you back to straddle him, but made sure that you didn't touch him when you lifted your shirt over your head, exposing your chest to him. Kyungsoo drew a breath in through his teeth, his length twitching against his stomach.
You took him into your hand, slowly circling his tip with the precum it was oozing. His eyes were hooded as he stared at you, letting out short puffs of breath at the feeling.
Crawling up his thighs, you sat up a bit more and D.O. took himself in hand, circling your clit with his tip - just to watch your knees shake a bit, before pulling you down onto him, your hips flush against his. A quiet gasp left your lips as he sunk to the deepest point inside of you, and his eyes squeezed shut as his head fell backwards at the feeling of you adjusting to him.
With a shift of your hips, Kyungsoo was groaning and then pulling you off him, only to slam you back down. You took control after that, lifting then sitting - slowly riding him to get to both of your orgasms.
"You feel so good," he sighed, gripping your hips and pulling you closer to him, joining your lips once you were near enough. His tongue roamed your mouth, the kiss messy but hot all the same.
You felt Kyungsoo throb inside of you, before his thumb came down to rub hard circles onto your clit and you let out a high pitched moan, your orgasm washing over you unexpectedly.
The feeling of your walls clenching around him was what tipped him off, spurts of his come coating your insides as you fell against his chest.
You both panted for a while, Kyungsoo's hands around your waist and yours cupping his face as you kissed, him pulling out of you once over-sensitivity began to kick in.
He sighs once you're seated beside him, placing his arm around you and pulling you into his chest, the heady smell of his cologne alarming you.
"You didn't even take your shirt off," You noted, frowning at the material.
"I was tired,"
"Nice,"
#do kyungsoo#exo do kyungsoo#do kyungsoo exo#do kyungsoo smut#Kyungsoo#kyungsoo exo#kyungsoo smuT#exo kyungsoo#d.o. smut#d.o kyungsoo#d.o. kyungsoo#d.o.#exo#exo smut#kyungsoo angst#kyungsoo fluff#exo angst#exo fluff#jongin smut#kim jongin smut#kai smut
633 notes
·
View notes
Text
Crossing pt. I (Katlaska) - sebald
A/N: [4574 words] Sex is sex. The rest is just noise.
The fat dick lies limp in Justin’s hands, and a small part of him wants to cry at how utterly pathetic his sex life has become.
It's a sad sight, reminding him vaguely of the first time he’d tried to cook sausages in college. Having been completely unblessed with any culinary skill or instinct, and being deathly afraid of burning their mousehole of an apartment down, he had taken the sausages out after a minute in the pan. His roommate had thrown one at him after a bite, complaining that it was cold as a dead man’s cock inside.
He’d rather cold sausage than a hopelessly limp dick, but Justin tries not to look disappointed. Limp dick is still better than no dick, he convinces himself. And anyway, he’s a fairly polite person. He even pretends to ignore Clark's showboating moan when he finally begins half-heartedly sucking at the tip.
He wishes he’d turned the TV on. He could be watching Keeping Up with the Kardashians right now. The human turd that is Scott Disick would excite him more than this frankly insulting cock.
Justin can’t complain too much. He gets it. If he ever ended up naked in a hotel room with an equally naked Bette White, his dick would probably shrink down to the size of a tic-tac, if not just fall off and scamper away under the bed. It wouldn’t be because she’s a woman, but because she’s Bette Fucking White, and it would be more surreal than the one time he and Brian played Street Fighter II after sharing a tray of edibles. Point being, it would be overwhelming. Of course, Justin would never actually dare invite Bette to bed–not because he’s gay and about six decades younger than her, but because he’s smart and considerate enough to know that he wouldn’t be able to deliver where it counts. Unfortunately, the carousel of men he’s had in his carousel of hotel rooms have not been as smart or considerate. About 70 percent of Justin’s sex life these days consist of an impressive number of men with very unimpressive dicks. He wouldn’t even really mind if they were race chasers, he just wanted an erect fucking dick, goddammit.
Clark keeps groaning and moaning above him, putting on a full show, but his dick is still only barely upright. Justin is both appreciative and annoyed. He pulls off the salty tip and proceeds to lick long stripes right down to the balls, but Clark, apparently determined to cross the line between embarrassing and infuriating, suddenly grabs Justin’s head with his clammy hands and starts grinding his nuts on Justin’s face, slobbering out an unconvincing growl that sounds straight out of a budget porno on the “rough gay” tag on Pornhub.
Christ. Justin pushes away from him. “Easy, cowboy.”
For his part, Clark has the decency to look apologetic, even putting his large hands up like he’d just been served a warrant. “Sorry, Lasky.”
“Justin, please,” he reminds firmly, getting up from the bed and walking to the fridge. He always makes it a point to introduce himself as Justin, hoping it would help separate him from the whole TV persona, but it doesn’t always work. He pulls two bottles of water out and tosses one to Clark.
“Right. Justin. Sorry,” he says. He catches the bottle and thankfully seems to realize the implicit signal that comes along with it. “Guess that’s it for tonight, huh?”
We should be asking your malfunctioning penis that, he wants to say, but he told himself he’d be nice. “It’s getting late anyway. Early flight tomorrow. Sorry.”
“No biggie.“ Clark shrugs magnanimously, as if he’s the slighted party who’s willing to overlook Justin’s sexual incapacity. Completely unacceptable! Justin is a champion cocksucker. Even his drag is inferior to his cocksucking prowess.
Smiling stiffly, Justin bids Clark a firm goodbye. "Should I call front desk to get you a cab?”
Heeding his signal, Clark declines and says he’ll grab himself an Uber. In three minutes flat, he's dressed up and making his way out, wisely choosing not to say anything more than a “Have a good night.”
Justin washes his face and brushes his teeth, resigning himself to another night alone with his own hand. It’s not as if he’s addicted to sex or anything like that. Once or twice every few weeks–months, even–is enough to get him by. The rest of his days he’s quite content doing it all by himself. It’s more the warmth that he misses, and the Mobius strip of receiving pleasure from giving pleasure and so on. He’s not actively looking to land himself a boyfriend either. There are perks to living the prime of his life as a single gay man. Sure, he gets a lot of disappointing race chasers, but he’s also had his fair share of mind-blowing sex. So he’s far from unhappy.
Still, it’s hard not to feel so alone at times.
He blames hotel rooms. They’re not conducive to happiness, not with the way their bareness announces impermanence. He knocks down his shaving cream and deodorant sitting on the counter, seeing if the slight mess would take away from how sparse and clean and impersonal the whole set-up is. It doesn’t.
Collapsing into bed, he picks his phone up, intending to pull up the ever-reliable 50-Load Weekend and get his erection over with. He's welcomed instead with one message from Willam (“Bitch I took more trade dick today than Brent Corrigan ever did in his entire twinkfant life”) and a string of texts from Brian–six consecutive messages only saying “!!!” and a seventh one saying “Joanne!!!!”
He hits Brian back with an “?”, congratulates Willam on his success, and goes back to his search for porn. But just as he makes it to his porn folder, his phone pings with another message. Jesus must not want him to jack off today.
Brian: Forgive me mawma for I have sinned.
Justin: Elaborate?
Brian: I’m sorry I sound like I’m joking but I’m really serious. Please don’t hate me.
Justin: I already hate you. What do you want?
Brian: I want love. Tonight I wanted it in the form of a threesome. Which I might have jokingly suggested to Sharon and Chad. And which they might not have taken so jokingly. Which might have led to an actual threesome.
Justin raises a brow. It’s a thought he’s entertained in the past, being in a threesome with those two. For all their troubles, Aaron had always been good in bed, and Justin has the distinct feeling that Chad might enjoy railing him out of spite. But the waters are too complicated to tread for it to be worth a go.
His phone rings with a call before he can think up a reply. “Hello Miss Minaj,” he greets.
“Hey.” Brian’s voice is subdued. “I’m sorry. Are you mad?”
“Girl, no.”
“You have every right to be.”
“Honestly, Brian, it’s totally fine. Fuck all my exes. Literally. They’re all good lays.” He cackles a little. “So how was it?”
Brian hesitates. “It was okay.”
“I’ve slept with Sharon. There’s no way it was just okay,” he chides. “In fact she’d be offended at that tepid description and might never talk to you again. Spill.”
He can hear Brian relaxing on the other end. “Well, if you insist. Sharon was a mouthful, but Chad basically drilled a hole right through my pharynx and out the back of my head.”
“Bigger than Sharon? No way.”
“Oh, all the way, mawma.”
Justin whistles.
“Catch this though–I thought they might have wanted to get all up in my ass or something, because they give off that creepy domineering Dracula tandem vibe, right? But, twist of twists, we ended up spitroasting Chad.”
“Huh. That fucks up my threesome fantasies with them.”
“You have threesome fantasies with them?”
“Of course. Congratulations on living my dream.”
“Eh, it was just all right. It was hot in theory, but they were both way too into each other for it to be anything remarkable on my end. I felt more like a volunteer called up to stage by a magician. Like I was there participating, but it was a kinda detached, voyeuristic participation, and I wasn’t in on the magician’s secret. And in this case there were two magicians, and them chuckling at things I didn’t understand and sending sticky glances to each other the whole night was kind of a boner killer.”
Justin shrugs off the slight sting he feels to hunger. He hasn’t had a proper dinner, has he? Yes, that’s what it is. “Well, that’s better than flaccid trade, girl.”
Brian lets out a whoosh of air in sympathy. “Sorry. Tonight?”
“Yep. Some budget John Stamos dude I picked up at Flaming Saddles.”
“Chaser? Or just another lonely stranger?”
“Chaser, definitely. Bought me a drink to congratulate me on All Stars, and then kept calling me Alaska after I’d insisted he call me Justin thrice. But he looked kinda hot and the last I got laid was like a month ago, so I took a chance.”
“And?”
“And nothing. Limp dick. Rubbed his nuts on my face like I’m a fucking towel. It was hopeless. I more or less kicked him out.”
“You didn’t come?”
“Nope.” He toys with his dick. It’s dead weight in his hand now, his erection having died down. “Maybe later. I’ll think of your threesome. But maybe with me in Chad’s place.”
“That already sounds hotter than how it really went. Think Sharon will be up for it?”
“Sharon, maybe. But Chad would only consent to it if you and Sharon were fucking my rotting corpse.”
“Now there’s a hot image. My dick’s getting stiff again.”
Justin laughs. “Fuck off.”
“I should fuck off now, actually. I realize that it’s three o'clock,” he concedes. “Brenda just wouldn’t let me go to sleep without telling you.”
“Well, tell Brenda she doesn’t get to impinge on my sleep schedule either.”
Brian cackles. “Like you were sleeping. Fifty bucks says you were rubbing it out to Dawson.”
“Ding ding ding, we have a winner,” he says, while unsuccessfully suppressing a yawn. “Unfortunately it’s not my dead erection.”
“Shall I talk you through? My university guidance counselor told me I could be the most successful phone sex operator in Boston if I put all my time and effort into it.”
“I dunno, you sound like a dying grandfather at your sexiest. Talk me to sleep like my Grandpa Joe used to, though. I’d appreciate it more.”
Brian wheezes, and Justin smiles sleepily.
“You’re a fucking cuntwhore, you know that? But actually, yes, I do have a story to torture you with.”
“Thrilling.”
“Shut up. So yesterday I arrived in Pittsburgh, and Lola was supposed to pick me up, but of course she overslept—”
“Or pretended to have overslept. I have a text from her saying her ex came by yesterday morning with a very moving oral apology.”
“That bitch. Well anyway she left me sitting in the airport feeling like Joan Crawford, except I didn’t even have a Mamacita to keep me company. So I sit next to this old Asian lady knitting some pattern, and what do you know, it’s a fucking ‘Make America Great Again’ scarf. So I’m all confused right, because Trump hates immigrants and all, but I remembered what you said about not cutting ties with Trumpers and republicans, because that’s not gonna get us anywhere, right? So I very politely try to engage her in conversation, but she didn’t speak a lick of English—”
“Or was pretending not to,” he says through a yawn.
“Yes! Exactly my thought, so I persisted, asking her why she was making the scarf and even complimenting her on skill—which, I know shit about knitting, so she could probably tell that it was all bullshit. After a while, I think she got tired of me and she finally said, in very broken English, that she hated Americans like me, because she worked very hard to become a legal American citizen while I got born in this quote unquote great country, and now I’m wanting to open it up to the rest of the world all willy nilly, when I know absolutely nothing about immigrants. And then I kind of just shut up, because she’s right, I don’t know anything beyond broad liberal ideals, so even if she’s politically and morally in the wrong she’s still one up on the ladder of understanding the plight of immigrants more than my white ass ever can. But there’s got to be a middle ground, it can’t just be, I dunno, I’m white and she’s Asian, so I automatically lose the debate—it’s not even about a debate, I just want to understand. I left her alone because she wasn’t having any of my questions anymore, and—”
Justin grunts and hums in the appropriate pauses, still awake enough to make a mental note to tell Brian how he’d sorta patched things up with is republican aunt, but not awake enough to vocalize his thoughts. He picks up on flashes of Brian’s monologue, at one point talking about his sad airplane food, and much, much later, about how pretty Pittsburgh is and how he sees why Justin stayed there for as long as he did. Justin imagines that he was able to give an enthusiastic response to that, but perhaps he was dreaming it.
The next day, when he wakes up, he has three texts. One from his manager, sending him his flight details. One from Sharon, telling him of the threesome. And one from Brian, billing him for the cost of the call and for his professional service as a storytelling grandfather.
Justin: I'd pay you 10k via PayPal but I already donated to charity this year. How about a ten-dollar dinner when we’re both in LA? You can spill the threesome’s sordid details in your full breadth of expression.
Brian: Bump it up to $20 and call it date. I get home Saturday.
Justin: Me too. $18 and tip’s on you.
Brian: Fine. See you, snake lady <3
~~~
The only thing Brian loves more than his mother’s Christmas peppermint cookies is a warm, pert ass to cushion his face against as he dives in to explore new horizons with his searching tongue–as a respectful visitor, of course, and not an oppressive white colonizer staking his loveflag on unmarked territory. He has lost two seasons of Drag Race, but really, he’s still a winner, and his prize is a multitude of very willing bedmates across the globe. (Well, across the northwestern hemisphere anyway, and then confine that to only the major cosmopolitan centers. The neocolonial claws of American gay culture only extend so far.) With a mix of fascination and envy, he listens to Willam's detailed story of a threesome with two closeted Afro-Asian sportswear models in Tokyo, to Milk's vague allusions to a hookup with a local volunteer in Zambia, and to Justin's tragic retelling of how he sadly had to turn down a Filipino stripper offering to blow him in a club because his show was to start in five minutes. But Brian doesn’t allow himself to be too sad about the limits of his sexual map so far–it just means there’s more beautiful men for him to explore in the future.
Tonight’s ass is new to him, but the face and the place isn’t. He almost laughs into Justin’s asshole when Justin predictably whines for him to get in with his dick already. He ignores the pleas and slows down even more, spreading his cheeks further apart and rimming his entrance at a torturous pace.
“Fuck, Brian,” Justin pants, instinctively moving his ass away from oversensitivity, but Brian grips his hips and pulls him back. He can feel him quivering under his tongue. “Go fucking slower, by all means." Brian is impressed by how he manages to say it with enough sarcasm, even through his shaky breathing.
"Patience, you petulant child," he chastises, slapping Justin's ass lightly before moving his head up to trail his tongue along Justin's spine while finally pushing two fingers in. Justin actually mewls and shivers as his back dips in a concave, and Brian has never understood the perverse allure of bestiality, but he almost comes right then.
"I’m so open, fuck. Please," Justin pleads, his arms going out under him, his body now forming a steep slope, ass at the apex. Brian marvels for a moment about what a long and endless stretch of a human being Justin is before finally deciding to take mercy on the poor, shaking boy—and on himself, really, as he feels about ready to come untouched just from the sight and sensation of Justin’s hole crudely clamping around his fingers.
"All right, since you asked so nicely,” Brian says playfully. He gently retracts his hand and drops a kiss on top of Justin's almost concerningly prominent tailbone before tumbling down from the couch. He twists himself over to reach for his discarded jeans under Justin's messy coffee table, burdened by their empty pizza box—fancy veggie pizza from a fancy trend-cashing hipster place down the street actually, and Justin paid the tip before Brian could take out his wallet. Justin threw a water bottle at his head when he started chiding him for the overpriced pizza choice.
“Oh my god.” Justin huffs at the pause in action and collapses down onto the couch, turning sideways to watch impatiently as Brian fishes through his pockets for his wallet. He starts stroking himself, the insatiable whore. While it’s a stunning visual that Brian stores away in his mental porn archive, right under “Video: Chubby Bear Takes Hit From Bong Dildo Lodged Up Hipster Twink’s Ass," he tuts and bats the hand away with a stern look.
"No. You’d come way too early and embarrass us both.”
“At the rate you’re going, neither of us are ever going to come,” Justin grumbles, but he keeps his hands away. "Edging is purgatory. I’d like the sweet release of paradise someday.“
Brian grins and goes back to his wallet, but there is only a Chipotle receipt in the spot where his condoms usually are. He looks up at Justin sheepishly. "Bad news, Dante. I’m out. Where do you keep yours?”
“Oooh. The lady is a traaaamp,” Justin sings teasingly, pulling his plastic lips back in a parody of a sensual smile. “Bedroom. Nightstand drawer. You get it, I’m not standing up.”
“Aye, aye, cap'n,” Brian says with a salute. He gets to his feet and begins walking out of the living room. "Hurry up!“ Justin calls after him, and Brian looks over his shoulder and grins wickedly as he slows down. He gets a pillow thrown at him for his efforts, and he cackles and speeds up to avoid it.
He’s only been inside Justin’s room once, and very briefly at that, when he and Courtney crashed Justin's apartment after a gig together in downtown LA. Courtney was wasted beyond help, and Justin’s place was close by, so Brian rang him at three in the morning and asked if Courtney could rest his pretty little Australian bird wings for the night. Justin waited for them at his steps, and together the two of them hauled Courtney from the Lyft to the bedroom. There was really only room for two people on the bed, so Brian bid them goodnight and faceplanted on the couch for eleven hours straight.
Justin’s room is a drag dump. Brian wades through piles of shimmering fabric and spiky heels before reaching the bedside drawer, which is surprisingly organized. There’s a basket of condoms, a bottle of lube, three black pens, and two notebooks. Nosily, he peeks into the notebook on top, and he’s met with sketch after beautiful sketch of cartoonish women–or woman, perhaps, as they seem to be varied iterations of Alaska, all big-haired and possessing of that unearthly hourglass figure. While the features are constant, their expressions run the gamut of human emotion. Some are, predictably, fierce and modelesque. Others are bright and toothy-smiled. Others are in tearful telenovela hysterics. Others still are grotesquely furious, only heightened by Alaska’s already excessively arched brows.
The one that stands out the most to Brian is the one where she’s expressionless, depthless. It’s the same size, same features, same ink, applied with the same weight as all the other sketches, but it seems smaller, less present somehow. Blank. It’s unsettling.
Brian doesn’t go farther than that, pushing the drawer shut and making his way back to Justin.
"How generous of you to remember that I’m sitting here, ass loose and buck-ass naked,” he quips. He’s got his long legs crossed and hanging off the arm of the couch, his Mae West smile a bawdy intrusion upon the grace of his equine features. All thoughts of the sketches evaporate from Brian's mind at the ridiculous sight.
“Your room is messier than the group-on dressing rooms we had at BOTS.” He massages Justin’s rim and then prompts him to turn over and drape himself over the arm of the couch. He gamely obliges. “Let’s pray your anal cavity isn’t half as bad.”
“Don’t worry, I douched. I thought I might meet someone at The Abbey tonight.”
Brian rubs the tip of his condom-clad dick around Justin’s entrance, and Justin’s back muscles melt at the gesture. “Hm. Too bad you’re stuck with me.”
“Yeah,” he breathes out, only barely. “You’re fucking terrible.” Brian pushes in then, reducing Justin to a surprised moan.
Justin relaxes quickly, opening up to his thrusts and receiving them with abandon, like he has faith in Brian and believes that he would give nothing but the best fucking that he could. Brian moves his hips in small circular motions, experimenting and trying to find that one spot that would send Justin keening. In the process, he has to grip the base of his cock to keep himself from coming before he finds Treasure Island. It’s difficult, with how tight and warm Justin is around him, not to mention the the way he’s running up and down the scale from deep grunts to breathy whimpers. It’s like every inch of Justin’s rectum—hell, his entire body—corresponds to a unique noise. It’s an impressive range Brian has discovered so far. If he fucks Justin long enough, he’s sure Justin can dethrone Mariah Carey.
They’ve spent too long sending each other into near-orgasm for this to really last a respectable amount of time, and soon Justin is a trembling mess beneath his equally trembling hands. He pulls out and stumbles down on the sofa, pulling the panting Justin over his lap and kissing his comedown away. Justin kisses back gamely, like he hadn’t just been fucked over to the next plane of existence.
Justin laughs into his mouth and then pulls away. He rests his head on Brian’s shoulder and talks to his neck. “I feel like a fucking teenager.”
“You come like a fucking teenager,” Brian confirms. He wipes Justin’s hair off his forehead, but Justin shakes his head like a dog and sends sweat flying toward Brian.
“Better that than your slow-ass grandpa thrusts.” He smirks. And then, as if to prove his agile youth, he jumps off Brian in one clean motion. It’s hardly an impressive feat, but Justin, who has all the grace of a fumbling fawn, looks mighty proud of himself. Brian smiles, until Justin offers a hand out. “Time for your bath, gramps.”
Brian kicks him but takes his hand. “Is this how you won All Stars? Gerontophilia?”
Justin taps the side of his head with a finger, like he’s passing on some wise secret. “Gotta know how to play the game.”
Brian nods as he gets up and lets Justin pull him to the bathroom. "I’ll keep it in mind for All Star 3: All-Star All Stars, where I duke it out with Raven for second place.“
"Oh my god.” Justin halts walking and buckles over in laughter, tears collecting in his eyes. Brian has to drag the dysfunctional Laughing Track of a human being to the bathroom and push him in the tub.
“You’re a handful,” Brian sighs as he settles in the tub as well, facing Justin.
“I’ve been told.” Justin reaches up behind him and gets the warm water going.
“Can it, Joanne. Not bigger than Chad.”
Justin shoots him an intrigued look. “Is he really?”
“Bigger? Yeah. Although size is immaterial for bottoms. And you’re a much better bottom.”
Justin preens and shakes his imaginary peacock feathers. "Thank you,“ he inflects in Tatianna’s voice. "Don’t tell Sharon, but I think you’re a better top.”
Brian laughs. “You whore. You’ll say anything to get dick up your ass.”
“Playing the game, I told you.” Justin shrugs. He swirls a finger in the two inches of water collecting around their feet. “Honestly though? I don’t care too much for it. Sometimes it’s more work than it’s worth.”
Brian cocks his head to the side. “You coulda skipped douching. I’ve never tried scat, but I’m open to new possibilities.”
“I’m surprised you haven’t,” Justin observes teasingly. He reaches behind him for a bar of soap and runs it through the water before sliding it across his legs. “I’ll keep it in mind next time.”
“Next time?” Brian asks, smirking. He reaches out to steal the soap for his own use. “I know you like this cock.”
“I’ve never prided myself on having good taste,” Justin retorts, sticking his tongue out. He kicks the bar of soap out of Brian’s grasp and into the water. Brian chuckles and picks it back up as Justin settles down and continues. “I was about ready to whore myself out downtown tonight. I never did get around to coming since that night you called me.”
“I actually was going to let Trixie set me up with a friend of her boyfriend for drinks after our little artisanal pizza dinner—” another kick, dangerously near his balls this time. Brian shields himself and continues, “but your skeletal system allure was too much to resist. I texted the guy and told him I had the runs.”
“You’re not being subtle about your scat fantasy, are you?”
“Well if there’s anyone I trust to make me see the merits of scat, it’s your filthy ass.”
“Okay, I’ve never done scat and have no particular desire to try.” He slides down and submerges himself in the water now that it’s filled up half the tub.
Brian’s surprised at how easy it had been for him and Justin to fall in bed together. Well, couch. One minute they were having a kiki over Sharon’s insane come control, the next Brian was demonstrating some random trade’s sloppy grandpa kisses on Justin’s mouth. And then it was the most sensible thing to start making out heatedly, until they were both naked and sucking each other off.
That’s three Ru girls down. Brian quite enjoys sleeping with them, he decides. No pressure, and no overwhelmed, limp dick. Maybe he’ll ask Trix and her boyfriend if they’re down for some three-way fun times next.
In the meantime, when Justin emerges from the water, Brian’s there to greet him with a soapy kiss.
#alaska thunderfuck#katya zamolodchikova#katlaska#smut#sebald#rpdr fanfiction#submission#canon compliant#crossing
77 notes
·
View notes
Text
First & most importantly –
All my love and thanks to my family, who know how much/little to check in on me and not ask too many/too few questions – DeeDee, Tins, Curtis, Manon, Chants, Casey
Zain – for being my hospital Saviour and just my favourite Pakistani ever!
Chad – for trying your best to lie to the parents when KB ask the 2 questions you weren’t allowed to answer truthfully – that is what cousins are for.
KB – you are my heroin and without knowing it guided me through this – WWKBD!
Elisha + Nico – for being the best big Sister + Brother a girl could need. There are no words to express how much I love you and appreciate you.
Sis! looks like I will live to meet yuh man and you are the best secret keeper.
And, The NHS for existing [you can take all the National Insurance you want from me], King’s College Hospital & my multi-disciplinary team of docs for being absolute stars and sorting me out real quick.
So… it’s been a fucking mad end of this year.
I hate this time of year, it’s never felt happy or joyous and honestly I just see the loneliness in the world in this ‘festive’ season, and now compounded by the loss of my father on Boxing Day 2013 – this time of year I’m always thinking – where is the highest mountain or deepest hidey hole I can find until this is all over. But I think this year has taken the cake!
So I had this cough since end of July, no biggie – it’s a cough.
In October, I was inexplicably breathless speed walking to the boarding gate in Amsterdam with Court.
November 19th, I had the craziest fever – trying to sleep, laying naked in my living room with my windows and sliding doors open in the middle of winter and I still felt I was in Trinidad in midday hot sun.
Chaddy boy came over the next day and seeing I couldn’t say one word without having to catch my breath – emergency doctor’s appointment became mandatory. Now I am the worst patien if I can walk and not screaming in pain – I good, dancer habits die hard. So you know shit was real at this point.
Doc Wedgwood tells me to go directly to A&E 1st thing in the morning,
She means – DO NOT pass go, DO NOT collect £200 [which would have been damn handy seeing I just quit my 2nd job for the year on Halloween – that’s another story though].
Of course, I was like “listen, give me some drugs so I stop this violent coughing business and could breathe cause I have a job interview tomorrow that not only do I really want to go to but shit! I need to be able to pay rent in 2018 and there is nothing that will make me move from the best flat in the world.”
We had a bit of a back and forth and this woman was not playing but no chest infection is going to affect my plan.
Cue – an interview reschedule and I head to King’s College Hospital bright and early the next morning.
Give some blood and x-ray my chest.
Then @ 8:50am the lovely good looking Isiah made everything a little more concerning. He asked me to stick around and started asking me a bunch of questions and after trying to be slick, I got him to eventually admit to me that, “My Chest X-ray is concerning, and I need to go to my GP 1st thing tomorrow to discuss the results”
Fuck me! So not a straightforward chest x-ray, not a simple case of a really bad chest infection. But you know I’m on a mission, cause I can’t tell my mother I quit another job this year without having sorted another, so I have interviews to get my ass too.
Fast Forward to that afternoon, and my Doc Wedgwood left 2 voicemails and emailed me about my early morning results appointment – slight panic set in, so I called in the reinforcements for this appointment – enter Nicholai from Stage Right.
So much changed in a couple sentences that Wednesday morning.
“Your chest x-ray isn’t good. We have to do more tests to fully diagnose, but it’s 1 of 3 things –
Lung cancer [WTF?!?!],
Lymphoma [this woman crazy!?!?] or
Sarcoidosis [I know she crazy cause only people on House or Greys’ Anatomy have that, and those are TV shows].
Your heart rate is 160 – it’s working too hard and your lymph nodes are inflamed around 400%”
If Nico didn’t say respond – I woulda tell you – that was the most vivid dream I ever had.
My Big Brother [as he introduced himself to Doc Wedgwood] asked the sensible questions.
I said – how the hell do I tell my mother & sister?!!?
The Bartels Soldier surfaced [I am the child of KB – the Original Gangster] and I needed to make a plan. I started my “I’m dying” folder in my Notes.
What needs doing…
What are the next steps to diagnosis?
Who needs to or should know?
Do I change my pension beneficiaries from my Godchildren to my mother and sister [the original plan of them being gone by the time I die may not be the same]?
If it’s a cancer – do I do the fucked up chemo thing or just make sure I enjoy the rest of my time?
Sweet! I lost 10lbs in 2 weeks and I didn’t even make an effort – this could definitely be a good thing!!
Who needs access to my business if shit goes downhill from here.
Answers…
Kings’ College Chest Clinic will call me with my next appointments and instructions
Nico [he was there], Elisha [she’s my person], Chaddy [he knows something is up]. KB + the rest will know when I know what is what
Diagnosis 1st then change beneficiaries if need be
Stage 1 – we will try ah ting & KB will have to come and mind her chile in London. Late Stage 2 and beyond – I’mma just ride this out and see what happens
I have 50lbs I need to lose and hate exercising so this is a real good thing & I’m going to ride this train as much as I can [so far -20lbs + counting in the last month]
Elisha – all of it. Nico – my hospital details.
So here is what followed:
My symptoms got worse –
I can’t walk 1 flight of stairs without being winded, I have to plan all my journeys around tube stations that have escalators and leave enough time to catch my breath before I have to speak to someone. And keep those to a bare minimum
Talking too much is difficult – not a problem for me, I’m not the biggest fan of people
Eating is tiring and takes my breath away – so most things become blended, good thing I had a bunch of already made frozen soup
I have violent coughing episodes that make anyone in my vicinity think I’m dying from the plague – They just gonna have to deal with that
My ribs are sore from all the coughing, so inhaling is painful
No matter how much water I drink (we are talking 3-4 litres a day) I still wake up at least 4 times every night coughing because my throat is so dry
I started sleeping on top of towels so my bed doesn’t get soaked from my night sweats
I decided on a hospital uniform – my fav GAP grey sweatpants & large quilted super cosy GAP jumper & NikexLiberty Air Max 90’s
Another 3 blood tests – 1 of which I had to tell a very fass phlebotomist about herself and that I do not need a husband nor define myself by the presence of a man & I still don’t know my blood type
A CT Scan – Yes you really do feel like you’ve pee’d yourself in your swimsuit and that cosy warmth stays with you for a couple seconds
A result appointments that only said more tests to come – Doc Turner didn’t seem too impressed to hear about my “I’m Dying” folder and whatever other snarky comments I made
A bronchoscopy – My body was not happy about the invasion and started bucking like I was possessed and thus a punctured lung (more Grey’s Anatomyy drama), I woke up, or more specifically, regained memory whilst in mid sentence to the nurse.
A week later – I found a bunch of druggie selfies and pics of bloody liquids [I assume came from me], and videos of my canula removal – no memory performing these actions and I doubt the nurse used my phone.
A PET Scan – preceded by a semi breakdown in the waiting room, it kicked off because they go my appointment times wrong, I was real tired and it was my 2nd day of fasting for a procedure. So a very unhappy Zara came to visit shouting for my doctor and threatening to start breaking things led to a coughing episode and was completed by my pee-ing myself while I’m trying to cuss them about their time fuck up. Eventually – they made me radioactive and I went home to my bed.
Ended that day with my cancelling an interview, receiving confirmation of 2 different job offers coming to my inbox within the next couple day and a late evening voicemail from Doc Turner “It’s good news – all things considered. I’ll see you on Monday and we’ll discuss treatment and long-term”
Well thank fuck for that! At least I don’t have to inject my self with poison. I can deal with that – and I can tell KB.
Monday 18th December – Final results appointment + diagnosis =
CONGRATULATIONS!! You’re a winner!!!
You only have a rare autoimmune disease that we don’t know much about but we can give you mood altering weight gaining steroids for symptoms but not much else. We don’t know what causes it, your symptoms can disappear as quickly as they appeared and never reappear, or you could get lung damage. You’ll have to come to the hospital once a month for a full workup.
BTW – how are your eyes feeling? Tired? Warm? Cause this could affect your eyes and your brain too.
Sarcoidosis is now your long time companion.
Gee! Thanks Doc Turner – you’re my hero.
Everything was made right literally in one afternoon, an afternoon where I felt so shitty, couldn’t catch my breath, breathing was painful and my constant coughing made me want to die.
I get to call my mother and tell her – it kinda went like this
[Me -ZB] Hey KB, so I have something to tell you. I quit my job on Halloween…
[KB] Oh Shit man Zara! That was 2 months ago
[ZB] yeah but I just had 2 offer conversations with 2 companies & I’ll decide on one of them later today, so the job situ is in hand.
[KB] mmm hmmm
[ZB] Annnnddd, I was being tested for Lung Cancer, Lymphoma & Sarcoidosis, but I only have Sarcoidosis. The best of the 3.
[KB] What you saying?
[ZB] {Long version as above}
[KB] OK, well good thing you there and not here. You are my special child. First it’s your special mouth disease [that is another story – missing some jaw bone]
Ma asked some really good questions and we lime for a lil while on the Skype.
Hardest part done – So now, we sort shit out.
The job is decided on, I’m now the Head of People for a Games Company.
New Meds –
Getting my steroids via inhaler – straight to the lungs, minimise the side effects of steroids in the blood. I know the steroids would have given me a real reason to be fat but the mood swing business, I wasn’t really in the mood for nah!
More Codeine = more constipation – so increase on the prunes and keep on with the greens.
True Story – I’ve been on some form of codeine for the last month – A couple weeks ago, I’m sitting on my toilet for 20 minutes, my legs are numb and I’m crying with frustration cause really I’m a 36 yr old constipated woman, and all I want is for this shit to no longer be a turtle and become a drowned log. I have a coughing episode and all that shit comes barrelling out! The biggest most literal F-ough (fart+cough) that ever existed!!
So now it’s the road to getting right, I have to be a bridesmaid in Court’s wedding and I’ve got 3 months to be able to breathe while I walk down her aisle.
I’m thrilled that I don’t have to tell my mother + sister that I have cancer at the same time of year we found out and lost my father to cancer.
I get to be on a special list for people with Special Diseases. I call it “exotic”.
I’ll lose the next 30lbs probably without much annoying exercise simply because I have to cut out all inflammatory foods and my body seems to be on that trajectory, once the vaporise steroids don’t get in the way.
And I get to learn more about this odd disease and I won’t be receiving a ridiculous hospital bill.
Everyone is now caught up and I wish you all a brilliant year and all the good things.
2018 is setting up to be a smash hit! I’m pretty excited.
Walk good
xoxo.
I am a patient on House + Greys’ Anatomy First & most importantly - All my love and thanks to my family, who know how much/little to check in on me and not ask too many/too few questions - DeeDee, Tins, Curtis, Manon, Chants, Casey…
0 notes
Text
OLIVER STARK as EVAN BUCKLEY
⤷ 911 SEASON 5
#my folder for this set is literally called ‘buck hot’#that’s all this is#evan buckley#911 spoilers#my gifs#that’s my wife#5.01#5.02#5.04#5.06#5.07#5.09
1K notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
fuck-elias-bouchard
i just really hate elias bouchard
noahsturner-blog
Abandon all hope
haley2004
Haley
overcynical-blog
c'est la vie
readsingwrite-blog
Read Sing Write