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princessmisery666 · 2 years

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Words Unspoken - Part 4 - My Girl Mini Series (end)

Summary: The Dagger mission is a success, and the consequences of Bradley’s voicemail catch up to him sooner than he expects.

Warnings: fluff, angst, smut (finally!), unprotected sex, best friends to lovers.

W/C: 5.3k

Characters: Bradley Bradshaw, OFC (Bailey) Small Parts/Mentioned: Nick and Carole Bradshaw, Pete “Maverick” Mitchell, Natasha “Phoenix” Trace, Jake "Hangman" Seresin.

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x OFC

Notes: set after the events of Top Gun: Maverick.

A/N: thank you for sticking with me 😘😍

Betas: @cockslutpadalecki - checked the smut but its changed a lot, yet thanks and credit are still due as they are to @writercole too, I never would have finished this series without her input // @deanwinchesterswitch - as ever a thank you is never enough and one day I hope to thank you in you in person 😍 or with cold hard cash 🤣

Graphics: made by me on canva. Dividers: @writercole

Master Lists: My Girl - Series // Top Gun: Maverick // Main

Words Unspoken

Arriving back at base, the phone in my pocket vibrates again. After the successful dagger mission, I went for a drink with Maverick to talk through our issues. It’s been sixteen hours since I left Bailey the voicemail. I don’t need to check my phone to know who’s calling. I had eighty missed calls by the time we made it back to Fightertown. I’ve ignored every one.

She hasn’t left me any messages or texts, which is part of the reason I haven't called. I don't know what to expect, and I'm not emotionally ready for that conversation. It's been taxing enough dealing with Mav. I can't deal with drama from Bailey too.

The text notification beeps, and this time, I pull the phone from my pocket to read; If you’re not dead, answer your damn phone!

I reply, simply saying; I’m okay. Will call you tomorrow.

A call immediately comes through from her number, and I decline it, shutting the phone off before shoving it back in my pocket.

I know I should call her. Reassure her that I am, in fact, okay and explain myself, but honestly, I’m afraid. I need time to let the adrenaline of the mission pass and my nerves settle. I’ll call her tomorrow. Right now, I just want to sleep.

I’m so exhausted, and my body aches more than I knew it possibly could. I open my bedroom door and freeze. Bailey is standing in the middle of the room, her back to me, phone pressed to her ear, a hand tangled in her hair. “...need to hear your voice, just to know you’re really okay. Call me, please.”

I assume she’s leaving me a message after I ditched her call. She hasn’t noticed me yet, so I could turn and run. It’s a fleeting thought that barely forms before I sigh, “shit!”

She spins to face me, and the relief is short-lived before it shifts to anger.

“We had a fight, and you ignored me for two weeks!” She drops her phone on the nightstand, picks up a pillow from my bed, and throws it at me. It misses by a foot. “You thought you might die and said goodbye in a voicemail!”

“How’d you even get in here?”

“Trace let me in when I told her you said goodbye in a damned voicemail!” Another pillow follows as her voice gets louder. It hits my hip as I dodge around it, doing my best to hide a wince as the sharp movement jolts my injured ribs. She doesn’t seem to notice, continuing her rant. “A VOICEMAIL BRADLEY!? And not only that, you tell me to leave Sean AND THAT YOU’RE IN LOVE WITH ME! WHAT CROSSED YOUR DAMN MIND?!”

I step inside the room and shut the door. Probably not a smart move; there are no pillows left, only heavy objects. “You gotta give me something here, sweetheart. Are you mad at me for leaving you a voicemail, not telling you I might die, or telling you what you already know is true? Pick a fight.”

“Pick a fight. Pick a fight, he says.” She throws her arms up in the air, but it does nothing to dispel the frustration she clearly feels. “How about we start with the message? Why did you think that was a good idea?”

Good question. Why did I think that was a good idea? I gather up the pillows, moving as slow as I can as not to jolt my ribs. As I walk toward my bed, Bailey jerks out of my way like she’s afraid I might touch her. The unfamiliar reaction sends a chill through me, dread dropping like lead in the pit of my stomach, like the sudden loss of altitude. I toss the pillows back in their place, unnecessarily plumping them to take a second to calm myself while my back is to her.

“Well, I thought about sending you a letter,” I say, turning to look at her again. “But you’d probably have received my death in service notification before it arrived. Postal service,” I shrug, “so unreliable.”

She shakes her head, disbelief blasting out in a humorless laugh. “So this is just all a joke to you?”

“It’s kinda funny.” It’s not; it's terrifying. Still, I shrug, feigning nonchalance. “It’s either laugh or freak out about it like you are.”

She cocks her hip, eyes squinting slightly, and purposely relaxes her body in an attempt to look indifferent. “I am not freaking out.”

“Kinda are.”

“I’m angry.”

“Borderline freaking out,” I counter. “Tell me, how many times did you talk yourself down and leave the airport before actually getting on a plane and flying here?”

“None.” She answers too quickly and avoids looking at me, so I know it's a lie.

“Oh yeah? So that’s at least three times.” Her mouth twitches, but she fights the smile and wins before it fully forms. “Tell me, what did Sean have to say about that?”

“Now you give a shit about what Sean thinks?”

“Stop avoiding the question.”

“I didn’t tell him. You did.” What is she talking about? I must look as confused as I feel because she elaborates without me having to ask. “I listened to your message on speakerphone, didn’t know he was still there, and he heard the whole thing. We um…we fought, and I kicked him out.”

“So, really, you’re freaking out because I was right?”

“Bradshaw,” she shakes her head, pointing a warning finger at me. “I swear if you say I told you so, I will not be held responsible for your medical bills.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, darlin’,” but I smirk, unable to stop the arrogance from showing in some form.

I hesitantly close the distance between us, and her familiar, sweet scent assaults my senses. I want to hug her so desperately that my chest aches, but she’s too pissed to allow me that comfort at the moment, so I take her hand in mine instead. “I deserve it; you have every right to be pissed at me. But can we not fight? It’s been a long couple of weeks, and I don’t have it in me to fight with you.” She doesn’t answer, nor does she pull away when I lean in to place a kiss on her forehead. “I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for?” asks Bailey, glancing up at me.

I pause because I’m not sure I’m sorry for any of it. I told her how I feel, and I’m not sorry for that. My confession made Sean leave, which wasn’t my intention, but I have absolutely no remorse for that. “Which part should I be sorry for?”

She takes a half step back and drops my hand, “Stop answering questions with questions,” she growls, frustrated.

We stare each other down for a second, and I don’t know what she wants. Do I give in to it all and kiss her like I should have years ago? Does she even want that anymore? She hasn’t told me how she feels. So what do I do?

“Bailey, I…”

The knock on my door cuts me off. “Yeah,” I call out, unable to mask the annoyance.

It opens, and Phoenix stands in the entryway, “I was just checking on Bailey,” she smiles, “but I see your back.”

“Thanks, Phoenix,” I say, trying to let go of some of the frustration for the interruption.

“Thanks again,” Bailey calls as Phoenix winks at her, backing out.

When I shift my gaze back to Bailey, she barely makes eye contact before dropping her head. The door clicks closed, and the silence is too much to bear.

Apparently, unable to look at me, Bailey speaks to her feet. “You were saying.”

What was I saying? I don’t know. All I know is she’s here, in front of me, simply asking me to man up and say what I’ve already said to her voicemail. But my mouth seems to have other ideas, and I end up impersonating a fish out of water.

She takes a deep calming breath and sits on my bed, folding her leg under her. She stares down at her legs, rubbing her thumb over our names on the locket. An image of her thumb being red and sore springs to mind at how many times she’s sought comfort brushing it over the inscription.

I rush to sit next to her, close enough that her knee nudges against my hip to at least get some of the contact I desperately crave.

“What happened with Sean?” I ask, genuinely curious to know how that conversation went after he heard my confession. Plus, that’s probably the easiest subject to cover right now.

“He got mad, said he always knew you were in love with me,” she shrugs, staring at her restless hand, picking phantom lint off her jeans. “That was usually the topic of our fights,” she admits, huffing a breath. “Whenever we’d talk, he’d get jealous, said he could see that you were in love with me and I was blind if I didn’t see it. But I didn’t, I don’t,” she implores. “I let the notion of us go. Moved on and got with Sean. Stayed because I thought I actually loved him…”

That stings. It means I was right. I was partly responsible for the pain he caused her. My fear and indecision practically pushed her into his arms.

“...On the road trip before you left, I thought maybe something had changed, and that night on the Bronco…” Her hand finds the locket again, thumb caressing the metal. “I didn’t want to put any extra pressure on you. But then, the next morning, I knew we both wanted it. You practically said it, but then I gave you an out, and you took it. You didn’t fight me on it, and I was relieved I hadn’t messed up our friendship. Over time I guess I convinced myself,” she pauses and corrects herself, “I realized it was all in my head. I was seeing stuff that wasn’t there.”

“That’s not true-”

“Do you want to hear this or not?” she sasses, her eyebrow raising as she finally meets my gaze with a determined one of her own.

She needs to know how wrong she is about us, about me. And I really don’t want to hear any more about her relationship with that asshole. But I can’t say I’m not curious about what made her finally end it, aside from their fight. I should let her finish. It’s probably better that I understand how completely wrong she is about everything before I correct her.

She takes my silence as a sign to continue. “I got off track, sorry,” she sighs, and it's loaded with weariness. “Sean wasn’t buying it, said I was delusional and that he wouldn’t play second best to someone…”

I’ve stopped listening. All I can focus on is the movement of her lips, the uncertainty in her expression. She doesn’t believe what Sean believes. She doesn’t believe the words I spewed into her voicemail. For one of the smartest people I know, she’s pretty clueless. How does she not know that it’s all true, that I’m the idiot for not kissing her that night or following through the next morning? Because I’m the one who should have admitted that she’s been it for me since the day we met. I’m the one who fucked us up more times than I can count because I thought… You know what? Enough thinking, Bradshaw.

She’s rambling now, but I cut her off with a quick kiss. A peck that makes her squeak in surprise. I draw back and cup her cheek. Uncertainty lingers in her eyes, the question of whether we are crazy for doing this. I imagine my expression is a reflection of hers, and our eyes flick between a shy, yearning gaze to each other's lips. She hasn’t pulled away yet; that’s a good sign. Right? She remains entirely still, so before I can change my mind, I creep closer again.

“I love you,” I whisper over her mouth, and she inhales sharply. I don’t have to wait long before she leans into it and kisses me back. God, it’s better than I dreamed.

I kiss her twice, three times, and then our tongues meet. Her hands lock around my neck, and my stomach flips. This is our first true kiss. The sensations are overwhelming - blood rushing in my ears, heart hammering in my chest, hair rising on my skin like I touched a live wire. It all feels so extraordinary yet so familiar. Maybe I’ve dreamt about it for so long that it feels like we’ve done it a hundred times before.

Rising on her knee, she maneuvers over me to sit on my lap. It’s still not close enough, and I run my hands down her sides, grasping her hips to bring her with me when I stand. Her arms tighten around my neck, squealing into the kiss she plants on my neck.

I still for a second, holding her against me, fighting through the pain lifting her causes my ribs. I try to lose myself in the sensations of her lips feathering over my skin, the grip of her hand fisting my shirt, fingers of her other hand stroking at my nape, and just stand there holding her against me. When she nips my earlobe whispering my name, I finally turn and lay her on the bed, head resting amongst the replaced pillows.

She wraps her legs around my waist, eagerly kissing me as I move over her trying to keep most of my weight off her, but she keeps me pulled close. I don’t want to stop kissing her, but my lungs start to burn, and my ribs sting when her legs tighten. I can’t help but grimace, hissing into her mouth.

Loosening her hold, she pushes her head back into the pillow, eyeing me with concern. “Are you hurt?”

The pain must still show on my face because she unlocks and drops her legs. I shake my head, tugging her leg at the knee, trying to encourage her back. “I’m fine.” The concern morphs to disbelief, and before I can lie again, she not so lightly jabs me in the ribs, making me recoil, folding in on myself and flopping down beside her on the bed, hand cradling my left side. Before the bed stops bouncing, she’s propped up on her elbow, looking down at me.

“What happened?”

I close my eyes and take a deep, shuddering breath, waiting for the pain to ebb. Once it’s back to a dull ache, I open my eyes, and my breath immediately catches in my throat. She looks so beautiful with her kiss-swollen lips and brow creased in concern. It takes every ounce of willpower not to reach out and yank her toward me. I settle for running my thumb over her lips, and she kisses the pad before I cradle her cheek.

“Mav took a hit for me, he went down, and I went after him. I had to eject,” fear flashes across her features, and her eyes drop. “I landed in the snow after I hit a tree. I’m okay. Nothing’s broken, just bruised.”

Quietly she asks, “Can I see?”

Hoping she doesn’t freak out again when she sees the bruising, I slowly slip off my shirt. My undershirt proves to be a little more difficult, and Bailey helps, gingerly pushing it up and off over my head. Her fingers hover over the injury as I lay back against the mattress.

“You really could have died,” she says, and it only seems to sink in at this moment.

There’s no adequate response for me to give. I put my life in danger every time I climb into a cockpit, and I can’t promise I won’t do it again because we both know that's not possible.

“Bailey,” I implore, and she brings her tearful eyes to meet mine. “I’m sorry I didn’t call after our fight. I’m sorry I said goodbye in a voicemail. I’m sorry I’m an idiot and didn’t do this sooner.” I lean in and press our lips together, lingering while I fight the urge to take it further, but I need to say this. “I’m not sorry that I’m in love with you.” My fingers run through her hair, eyes searching hers for any sign that she forgives me for all of it. I’ll beg forever if she asks me to. “But if I’m too late… if you’ve moved on and you don’t want me-“

“That’s not-“

“Do you wanna hear this?” I snark, and she mimes locking her lips and throwing the key over her shoulder. “If you don’t want me or if this,” I point to my bruise, “is too much, we can go back to how things were. I’m not saying it’ll be easy now that I know how it feels to kiss you, but I need you in my life. You're a part of me, and I can’t be without you. So if you don’t want us, I’m fine with that, or at least I will be. It will take time, but I’ll…”

Warm, soft lips cut me off, and it takes a second for me to process. My brain catches up as she starts to pull away, and I quickly slip my fingers around the back of her neck, holding her against me. For a brief moment, hope surges through my veins, only to be stalled when she pushes back against my hold.

“I’m in love with you, too,” she whispers, so ardently her whole body seemingly sighs, releasing years of tension from words unspoken.

“You are?” I press, hoping she’ll repeat the words I’ve been dreaming of since I was a teenager.

“I love you, Bradley,” she repeats, caressing my face as a shy but content smile forms.

“I love you, Bailey.”

“Prove it,” she challenges with a smirk.

My hand cups her cheek, our lips meeting again, this time in a slow tantalizing kiss, mouths moving in tandem.

I push up onto my elbow and moving in sync, like a dance we’ve been practicing for years, she lets me lead in laying her flat again, climbing over and pinning her beneath me. The time for talking is done. I don’t have any words left, and with the way her body molds to mine, I’m not sure I remember how to form words anyway. I’ve said all I can say. Now it’s time to show her.

We take our time, lazy and tender, exploring each other. It’s not the desperate, heated passion I thought our first time would be. My hands roam under her shirt and over the soft flesh of her stomach, the muscles flexing beneath my touch. Tugging the cup of her bra down, Bailey moans when my fingers brush over her pebbled skin. Her body arches toward me, and then she’s pushing against my shoulder.

“We’re both overly dressed for this occasion,” she jests, and the smirk she flashes me is new.

Like a stealth strike, it hits me out of nowhere. This is the woman, the love of my life, the one person I've shared all my experiences with, and I'm about to experience her in ways I've only ever imagined in my dreams. Fuck. I could come from that thought alone.

I free her long enough for us both to completely undress, and then she’s back in my arms, limbs tangled together. The pain radiates outward from my chest, searing through the nerves and tissue, no longer allowing me to ignore it, as the slightest movement wreaks havoc on my ribs. I grimace, eyes squeezing tight as I try to fight through it. “Fuck. Ow. Oh shit,” I grumble against her mouth, and she draws back, worry etched all over her face.

“We should stop,” she says, concern and an air of disappointment in her tone.

“Absolutely not. Just let me get comfortable.”

She waits for me to lay on my good side. The grimace on her face, a gesture of shared pain, is adorable, and I grunt a string of curses when the rising chuckle turns to a sharp stab.

I still want, need, as much contact as possible, but it’s proving to be complicated. So I have to settle for holding her hips and kissing her. She whimpers into my mouth, and her hand smoothes down my chest, careful to avoid my injury, and grips my cock.

She groans, “Shit. I knew you were big.”

So she has thought about it too.

I don’t want to stop kissing her, but the need to taste her is overpowering. I need it more than I need to take a breath. I break the connection, kissing her neck, and cautiously slip lower - damn fucking ribs - to her breasts. I nudge her knee with a slight tap of my hand, and she widens her legs just as my hand reaches her sex. I swirl my tongue around her nipple, sliding a finger through her folds. She’s so wet and warm. My cock twitches in anticipation of being buried in her.

“Get back up here,” she demands when I move low enough that my cock is out of her reach.

“Need to taste you,” I mope.

She’s shaking her head when she cups my jaw. “There’s no way you can do that without hurting yourself more, and I’m seriously going to die if you're not inside me in the next two seconds.”

I groan needily, the sound near a growl rumbling low in my chest. Holy fuck. I never knew she had a mouth on her. But I like it. I’m gonna be the one to die if she keeps surprising me by fulfilling all the nasty fantasies I’ve had about her.

I guide my middle and index finger through her slick, teasing around her clit. She’s so wet already that there’s little resistance when I slip them inside her. Curling my fingers makes her squirm, and a sweet moan falls from her lips as she licks them.

“Well, at least let me make you come first,” I say, thumb gently circling her clit. The moment I apply a little pressure, her back arches, and she cries out.

Fuck. It’s going to take a lot of willpower not to embarrass myself.

While I work her over, she continues to pump me, adding a little twist of her wrist and thumbs over the head of my dick. I wanna close my eyes and revel in the feel of her touching me in all the ways I’ve been craving but watching her face contort in pleasure is like a winter sunrise, blinding but beautiful. I can’t look away. Pushing in deeper, I twist and scissor my fingers, hitting that sweet spot, and her grip tightens around me.

“Right there, huh?” I ask redundantly. Bailey whines in response, so I add a little more pressure.

Eyes fluttering closed, she mutters, “Fuck, Bradley,” as her pussy clamps around my fingers, her climax soaking my palm.

Once she’s recovered, she releases my dick and props herself up on her elbow. There’s a hint of desperation in her now. Her other hand clamps around the back of my neck and pulls me to her mouth, teeth nipping at my bottom lip, sucking on it as she pulls back.

“I need you,” she begs, looking up at me with hooded eyes. “Please.”

Does she know what she’s doing to me? Those big innocent eyes and reddened pouty lips. I don’t know how much more I can take. I yank her closer, and instinctively she throws her leg over my hip.

“Fuck!” I shout up to the ceiling.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” she mutters.

“It’s okay,” I pant through gritted teeth, closing my eyes. Gasping and crying out due to an injury and not because I’m buried deep inside her wet heat is so not how I imagined our first time. I hate that I can’t claim her in all the ways I want.

“Maybe we shouldn’t,” Bailey suggests, and my eyes pop open.

“We most certainly should,” I say, “I’m just gonna need to take it easy.”

“I have an idea,” she says, teeth cutting into her bottom lip as she rises onto her elbow. “Lay down.”

“We’re still doing this, right?” I ask before moving even a millimeter. “Otherwise, I’m not moving.”

“We’re still doing this,” she assures me, “but with as little effort from you as possible.”

I frown, brow pulled tight, “that doesn’t sound like us doing it to me.”

“Would you shut up and do as you're told?”

I huff as I follow her earlier instruction, moving slowly to lay beside her. Once I’m settled, she moves to straddle me, careful to ensure her knees don’t touch my injury.

Fingers wrapping around my cock again, she slides the length of me through her folds, coating me in her slick. When she lines me up with her entrance, I nudge at her clit, making her hiss, and I can’t help but gently rock up to do it a few more times.

“Bradley, stop,” she scolds, rising back up. “You’re supposed to be taking it easy.”

“But,” I whine, rocking up again, seeking it out, and her eyes flutter when I hit it, “I wanna see those faces.”

With a stern glare, she pins me down, hands on my shoulders. “I will just stop.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll behave,” I smirk, “well maybe.”

She ignores me and eases back down. “This okay?” she asks, leaning down to kiss me softly.

“Uh-huh.” It’s all I can manage because the feel of her silky walls around me is taking all my coherent thought to remind myself I’m hurt and not to fuck up into her.

Steadily lowering herself, she moves her hand, lightly trailing her fingers over my stomach. The hitch in her breath matches mine when her ass meets my hips.

Eyes closed, she hums delightfully and drops her head into the crook of my neck. “Are you okay?”

“I’mma need a second,” I admit. “I don’t want this to be over quicker than it should be.”

“So let's go slow,” she suggests, and I can feel the smug smile against my throat. Turning, I kiss the side of her head and lift my hips to encourage her to move.

She sets a steady leisurely rhythm, kissing along my jaw to capture my lips. I swallow her whimpers, and she steals my groans as she rises and falls. It's painful, my ribs burn, and it will hurt like hell tomorrow, but I can deal with it because Bailey is riding me. It feels better than anything I ever imagined, and nothing will stop me from enjoying this.

Her fingernails sting, leaving behind small indents in the curve of my shoulders as my palms mold to the mounds of her breasts, kneading the smooth flesh - velvet and fire, passion and sin. Our bodies work in tandem like they were purposefully made for each other. Her pace is sweet and sensual; she’s controlling our movements, dictating our trajectory.

Her walls tighten around me, pulling me in deeper, making my cock twitch feeling how close she is to release. Locking eyes with her, I push my thumb into her mouth, and she sucks on it with fevered enthusiasm.

“Fuck, I’m gonna need to feel you do that on my cock, real soon!”

She smirks proudly, releasing my thumb. “Oh, you will, I promise.”

The now wet digit trails down her neck and over her left nipple, pinching and tweaking the flesh until she hisses, arching her back so forcefully she shucks me up the bed. “Oh shit, Bails, take it easy. I’m injured.”

She laughs at my partly jesting tone but doesn’t slow or stall her rolling hips. “Don’t do that again then!”

I slip my hand between our bodies, and she tips forward so I can reach to thumb her clit, swirling a circular pattern that causes her to come undone almost immediately.

“Holy fuck, Bradley, oh–oh, god, yes!”

I can’t hold back any longer, spilling into her with stuttered jerking thrusts until I’m done. She falls forward, hands slapping into the bedding to prevent her from falling on top of me. She buries her face in my shoulder as she whimpers and pants for breath.

“Fuck, I wish we’d done that sooner,” she wheezes.

“Me, too,” I say, kissing her shoulder.

We lay together, and I tell her about the dagger mission. She was never a fan of Hangman. She’s met him a couple of times but decides that now she hates him when I detail how he made the connection between Mav and my Dad and brought it up in front of everyone. I make a mental note to pre-warn Hangman before he sees her again. She’ll likely slap him on sight.

“I stopped thinking, and I just reacted,” detailing what happened. “I went after Mav, we stole a jacked-up F14, fought our way back to the carrier, and there was a moment... I really thought it was the end. The ejection handle didn’t work, the guy had us dead to rights, but Seresin saved our asses.”

“Huh,” she scoffs, “he’s still an ass.”

I don’t want to talk about what could have been anymore. I’ve got everything I wanted right here with me. So I reach over and smack her ass. “Enough talking,” I say. “I’m exhausted. Let’s get some sleep and I’ll tell you all the ‘Hangman’s-an-ass stories’ tomorrow.”

“Deal,” she chuckles, kissing me quickly before jumping up and heading for the bathroom.

As she exits, I hand her a bottle of water, slipping in behind her to take my turn. It only occurs to me now, as I enter the main room again, that I didn’t lock the door. Task accomplished, I pivot to find Bailey pulling my shirt up her arms.

“Oh hell no,” I say, sauntering over and pushing it off her shoulders. “You’re never to be dressed when we’re alone ever again.”

“Sorry,” she laughs and drops her arms, letting it slip to the floor.

“You’re forgiven, now back to bed,” I demand, patting her ass and pointing over her shoulder.

She goes without protest, and I follow. We lie there exchanging lazy, sloppy kisses, needing sleep but wanting to live in the afterglow a while longer. Eventually, we settle, her leg over mine and her head on my shoulder as she cuddles into my side.

This is how it should have been from the moment she woke me to go on our road trip. I should have taken her then and there, not wasted so much time. I start laughing as the thought reminds me of her insulting my manhood.

“So,” I say, sleepily but unable to keep the cocky grin from my tone, “did I get big enough for the future Mrs. Bradshaw?”

She sucks in a breath, nearly choking, but coughs it away and hums an affirmative.

“If that is a shock to you,” I chuckle, “you definitely haven’t been paying attention.”

“Bailey Bradshaw does have a nice ring to it,” she says, a broad smile in the kiss she presses over my heart. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

I don’t want to fall asleep. I want to live in the aftermath for a minute longer, but exhaustion sets in, and I can’t fight it. I start drifting off, the warmth of Bailey next to me grounding me to the present, keeping me from falling asleep, the day repeating on a loop. I saved Maverick today, and I got the girl. My girl. Maybe it’s the adrenaline beginning to fade or the lifted weight of a revealed secret, but I can hear my dad, clear as day, “I’m proud of you, son.” and I can see my mom smiling up at him. “We’re both so proud of you, Bradley.”

Thank you for reading 📖

Master Lists: My Girl - Series // Top Gun: Maverick // Main

#bradley bradshaw #top gun maverick #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster #rooster bradshaw #smut #fluff #angst #bradley rooster bradshaw x ofc #rooster x ofc #ofc

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theangstmeister · 1 year

Text

Hold Me Tight (Before I Let You Go) - Chapter Two

Please see masterlist for warnings

Present Day

“Oppa-nim, have you finished drawing my princess yet?” Soyeon asked, skipping across the room from in front of the television which was tuned into some kind of children’s show.

“Soyeon-ah, don’t be rude,” her sister, Jiwon, scolded.

Jungkook smiled at Soyeon, the little girl was pouting with her chin on the table-top.

“Nearly. But you did make me do your hair halfway through,” he reminded her, flicking the tuft of hair.

“I wanted to be like oppa-nim.”

The landlord had turned up late that afternoon, Jungkook assumed when the girls had finished school, and begged Jungkook to watch them for half an hour- two hours ago. He didn’t particularly mind though, it wasn’t the first time he’d done so and they were easy enough to keep an eye on. Jiwon was quietly doing her homework while Soyeon, with her youthful confidence, had Jungkook sketching her pictures to colour in.

He finished off the crown before sliding the picture across to Soyeon.

“Thank you, oppa-nim!” she said, giving Jungkook a quick hug around his waist before running back across the room to lie on the floor, a collection of Jungkook’s lesser used coloured pencils scattered around her.

Jungkook wondered if he’d ever been that carefree- he didn’t think so.

He pulled his sketchbook towards him to continue working on his sketch for class. More like start it. The prompt was simply “love” but the seemingly endless possibilities were crippling Jungkook. He knew he should probably do something based on Yoongi but he couldn’t get Taehyung out of his head.

However, before he had chance to fall down that hole, he was interrupted by Jiwon. She hadn’t said anything but her pen has stopped scratching its way across her exercise book. He knew she was looking at him, he’d developed a great sense for when attention was on him from a young age.

“Oppa-nim?” Jungkook looked up, acting surprised that she had called him. “Can I ask you something without you telling my dad?”

“Of course, Jiwon-ah. What is it?”

“Promise?”

Jungkook held his hand out to her across the table, his little finger raised, “I pinky promise.”

Jiwon hooked her little finger through his and shook their hands together vigorously.

Releasing Jungkook’s hand, she glanced furtively over to her sister, checking that she was either engrossed in her colouring or the television.

“Did your parents ever get divorced?”

It hadn’t been the question Jungkook had been expecting and if her parents were having marital problems, it certainly wasn’t something Jungkook felt comfortable talking about- not with the complicated relationship he had with her dad, his landlord.

But he also remembered what it had been like to feel like you couldn’t talk to anyone.

“No...but they argued a lot.”

That was the child-friendly way of putting it, and while Jiwon was sixteen, Jungkook had learnt that sixteen year olds really were still children in the ways that mattered.

“How did you deal with it?”

“You have to find a way to block it out and look out for your sister, but I can’t tell you how to do that because I only had to look out for myself.”

And Jungkook had never stopped doing that.

“You told me once that you’ve got a brother.”

Jungkook hummed, nodding, “I do but he’s older so he looked after me, like you look after Soyeon.”

That was of course a lie. Junghyun had been one of Jungkook’s tormentors, one of many, but always the one capable of hurting him the most.

When they’d been younger, they’d gotten along well and Jungkook had trailed after his brother, learning from him in the way that younger siblings tended to do. He’d even been reasonably close to Yoongi, who had been his brother’s best friend since their first day at school together.

But then those three years between them had carried more and more weight as Junghyun became a teenager and didn’t want his little brother around anymore.

When the two older boys had found their way into Busan’s dark underbelly, Jungkook had been left behind to flounder on his own, ignored by everyone until Taehyung had appeared one day like a light in the darkness.

Jungkook would have been happy if things had stayed that way, being ignored didn’t bother him that much but the drugs had brought out the worst in Junghyun, turning him into a miniature version of their father at the exact same time as it was becoming increasingly obvious that Jungkook wasn’t straight.

It had been an unlucky combination of circumstances which had sent Jungkook’s life spiralling out of his control- bullied at school and beaten at home- with only Kim Taehyung to keep him afloat.

But he didn’t even have that anymore. Just Yoongi with his own crippling self-hatred that made him so dependent on drugs.

Except that Taehyung had slipped back into that role with such ease, and Jungkook’s heart ached to accept the lifeline that was being extended to him in the form of Taehyung’s phone number.

He shook himself- such thoughts wouldn’t lead anywhere good.

Because even if Taehyung’s boyfriend made the alarm bells in the back of his head clamour for his attention, he had no right to get involved. He’d forfeited that right years ago.

Looking at the girl before him, Jungkook wished he could offer her something more concrete but what could he possibly give her when his own life was such a mess? If he could, he’d offer her a safe place to come to whenever she needed to get away- he was home most of the time during the day due to the nature of his degree and work, and his landlord lived in the building- but he didn’t think he should risk exposing them to Yoongi too much. Usually, he arranged for Yoongi to be out whenever he watched the two girls, only agreeing two hours earlier at such short notice because Yoongi had gone to deliver a track he’d produced to someone (Jungkook knew these things could be done digitally but he and Yoongi both knew it was an excuse for Yoongi to get hold of cash and then happen across his dealer on the way home).

When the door knocked loudly, Soyeon leapt up, “Oppa-nim, it’s Appa!”

Jungkook rose from his chair, waylaying Soyeon, “Let oppa open it, just in case.”

It probably was her dad but it could easily be Yoongi, in god knew what state.

With Soyeon’s small hand in his, Jungkook opened the door to what was indeed his landlord.

“Appa, you have to come see my colouring,” Soyeon beamed, dragging him into the flat and towards the living room.

“Soyeon-ah, I don’t think Jeon-ssi wants us invading his home any longer than we have to.”

“It’s fine, they’ve both been good as gold anyway.”

He knew that the other man didn’t really know how to treat Jungkook. After all, what were the chances that he asked any of the building’s other residents to babysit for him? And Jungkook would have bet good money that he was the only one sucking his dick to get out of paying his rent.

“That’s really good colouring, Soyeon-ah,” he praised his daughter. “Did Jeon-ssi draw the pictures for you?”

Soyeon nodded emphatically, “And he tied my hair up like his so I can be a proper artist.”

Meanwhile, Jiwon silently packed her school work into her bag.

“Well, make sure you thank Jeon-ssi properly and then you and Jiwon can go back upstairs.”

Jungkook frowned slightly- he was clearly wanted for something.

“Thank you, oppa-nim,” Soyeon said, hugging Jungkook.

He hugged her back, “You’re welcome, Soyeon-ah, make sure you behave yourself.”

“I will oppa-nim.”

“Thank you, oppa-nim,” Jiwon muttered, taking her sister’s hand and leading her from the flat.

Jungkook tugged on his earrings as he heard the two girls leave the flat- he honestly wished he could be more to help Jiwon but he also didn’t think he should get involved. He couldn’t risk getting kicked out of his flat.

“Do you want to sit down, Park-ssi?” Jungkook asked, indicating towards the sofa.

The other man sat down with a long sigh- he looked like he’d had an exceptionally long day- and Jungkook seated himself sideways on his lap, wrapping his arm along the back of the sofa.

It was like being at work and Jungkook slipped into his role with ease. The other man had taken to talking to Jungkook about his issues but Jungkook would always be the pretty boy downstairs who sucked him off to pay his rent so he had to play the role of the seducer.

Not that it would be the first time the two had done nothing but talk- the older man didn’t have anyone but Jungkook to talk to about his struggles with his sexuality.

Yoongi didn’t know that, though. Jungkook had told him that the landlord liked to watch him finger himself to cover up for the lack of noise. He wasn’t sure why he lied but something had told him that it wouldn’t be good for Yoongi to think their relationship was anything but a sequence of sexual favours over the last year.

Not that Jungkook was at all interested in their landlord- he just wanted somewhere to live- but that didn’t stop him feeling sorry for him.

He was like most of the men that came into the club. A good number of them were married to wives they didn’t love and they used the club as a safe place to express their true desires. For many of them, coming out would mean losing access to their own children so Jungkook liked to think he was doing some good.

And perhaps that was why he attracted so many customers to him- he understood what his job really was. It was more than stripping (or even sex if you knew who to ask). It was about allowing those repressed men a moment of respite.

In a way, Jungkook thought he’d been lucky. He may have been labeled as something he didn’t think he was, and he may have suffered for it, but at least he hadn’t had to pretend to be straight anymore. He’d been given a kind of freedom.

And he’d had Taehyung to guide him, to help him see that there was nothing wrong with him but with his family and society at large.

Jungkook brushed Mr Park’s hair away from his face, his fingers then trailing down the side of his face to hold his chin, “You can touch me.”

Jungkook had learned that once you took down the barrier between people and what they desired, everything else came spilling out. Sexual desire was so repressed in so many people that it was often like breaking down a dam.

The older man’s hand settled on Jungkook’s thigh, still timid even after a year of their arrangement.

“I don’t think I can stay with my wife anymore, Jungkook-ah.”

“What’s changed?”

They’d been together for, Jungkook thought, nearly twenty years- something had to have changed.

“I worry about what I’m teaching my girls by hiding who I am. I don’t want them to grow up thinking that they should be ashamed of themselves but shouldn’t I teach that by example?”

“I think your daughters would be very upset if you divorced your wife and they couldn’t see you anymore.”

“Maybe they’d be better off without a man like me. Look at me, I’m accepting sexual favours from my resident like a pervert.”

“One: I started it. Two: there’s nothing wrong with what you are. And there’s a difference between knowing and accepting that, and being out. Maybe that’s the balance you need to find.”

Taehyung had needed to find a similar balance when it came to Jungkook; a balance between his love for and attraction to Jungkook, and the fact that the narrow worldview of other people meant that they would never have been able to look past their ages.

But Taehyung had never managed it and, in the end, it had strained them both to breaking point.

“When people are ashamed, they hurt the people around them even though they might not mean to,” Jungkook said gently. “If our arrangement means that you’re not ashamed and that you can be a better father, then isn’t that worth something?”

The older man nodded, Thank you, Jungkook- for talking to me.”

He thought about trying to get the man to come to the club but he decided against it. Part of the reason their arrangement worked was that there was a kind of exclusivity to it, Mr Park got to feel like Jungkook was his and his alone for ten minutes each month, and that gave him the emotional gratification he needed.

It would be far too risky to mess with that if Jungkook wanted to continue to have a roof over his head.

“You should go back upstairs before your wife gets any more suspicious of me,” Jungkook chuckled, pecking him on the cheek before rising from his seat.

The woman would have to be an idiot not to suspect there was something going on when Jungkook hadn’t paid his full rent in a year and her husband spent longer collecting Jungkook’s rent than he did with anyone else.

Also, Yoongi would probably be home soon and Jungkook made sure to keep him far away from their landlord. Jungkook was exactly what he wanted- his wide eyes giving a look of innocence while his physique provided a touch of sin- while Yoongi was all sin with his bleached hair and arms covered in tattoos.

Mr Park let himself out, leaving Jungkook to tidy up before going back to his classwork.

Half an hour later, completely engrossed in his work, Jungkook was startled by Yoongi coming up behind him.

“What’re you drawing?” Yoongi asked, pizza box in his hand.

Jungkook’s mouth watered at the smell of the warm dough but it wasn’t strong enough to cover up the distinct herbal scent clinging to Yoongi’s hoodie.

“It’s just for class,” Jungkook said.

“Yeah, I know that but what actually is it?”

Jungkook had only got as far as an outline of a broad back with two wounds on the shoulder blades but he knew exactly what he was drawing now.

“A fallen angel.”

“I thought your theme was love and sexuality?”

And to Jungkook, love was a fallen angel in ripped jeans and loose T-shirts, and he had been the one to make him fall from grace.

“Let me get to a good stopping point and I’ll come eat,” Jungkook avoided the question.

Once he’d finished, he sat beside Yoongi, who had the pizza box balanced on his lap, on the sofa, tucking his legs up underneath him.

With one hand, he held a slice of pizza and with the other, he pulled Yoongi’s arm into his lap, turning it over to admire the brightly coloured ink that covered his arms.

“What are you doing?” Yoongi mumbled around a mouthful of food.

“Admiring my handiwork.”

Jungkook had drawn each and every tattoo, just as he’d drawn his own, for the tattoo artist to follow. He was most proud of the traditional style drawing depicting the mountains and the sea- for Busan. To Jungkook, that city would always be where he had been the most miserable but also the happiest he had ever been, so he’d had it inked it onto Yoongi’s skin.

His own was reserved for his dragon, for Taehyung.

Not that Yoongi realised that. Jungkook had cried when he’d gotten it done and Yoongi had assumed he was a baby who couldn’t handle the pain of the needle.

As if Jungkook was a stranger to pain.

“Do you remember when you drew that first one? When you were… how old were you?”

“Fourteen, it was just before my fifteenth birthday.”

August 2015

Jungkook sighed contentedly as he felt Taehyung’s fingers carding through his hair, easing them through where the strands had stuck together from the sticky heat of the afternoon.

He relished these quiet, secretive moments with Taehyung. Nobody else knew Taehyung was there so they didn’t have to pretend that they were nothing to each other.

In Jungkook’s bedroom, lying together on top of the duvet, they could simply be them.

However, their peace was interrupted far too soon by Taehyung’s phone beeping, signalling that Taehyung needed to leave and come back in an hour (via the front door rather than Jungkook’s bedroom window this time).

“I don’t want you to go,” Jungkook said softly, wrapping his arms tightly around Taehyung.

“I have to go, sweetheart or you won’t have anything to eat. But I’ll be back straight away.”

“No, you won’t be, not really. You’re different when you’re with them.”

Taehyung may have been spending most of his time with Jungkook, holed up together in his bedroom, but he was still friends with Junghyun and Yoongi, which meant that he had to hang out with them, too.

“You think I like the way things are? I can’t stand your brother, or the way he treats you, but it’s far less suspicious for me to bring you food if I pretend I’m still his friend.”

Jungkook knew that, he did, but it didn’t stop it from hurting. He wanted people to know that Taehyung was his and that it didn’t matter how much they mocked him at school, or how many bruises he got at home, because he had something they didn’t.

He was free in a way they never would be by constantly conforming to society’s expectations.

“You can go if I get a goodbye kiss.”

“Are you eighteen yet?”

“No,” Jungkook pouted.

“Then no.”

“But you’re not eighteen yet so it’s fine.”

“And you’re fourteen so it’s not fine.”

Jungkook sat up, fiddling with the rings on his fingers, “It’s only kissing, it’s not sex. That’s what I have to be sixteen for.”

Taehyung rubbed his face with his hands, “Why do you always do this?”

“Do what?”

“Put all the responsibility on me to say no to you,” Taehyung snapped.

“Maybe because I’d like it to actually be clear what this even is between us!” Jungkook’s voice rose sharply as his temper flared defensively. “Instead I’m left to feel like a- a-” Jungkook stumbled over his words, thoughts flying through his mind faster than he could catch hold of them. “-like a placeholder until something better comes along.”

Would they even be able to say they’d broken up when that inevitably happened? And without being able to use that phrase to describe what had happened, would he ever be able to get any closure on what they were to each other right now?

Not that Jungkook fully understood whatever it was between them. Taehyung always skirted around it, only going as far as to describe them as “exclusive”, but Jungkook’s life was filled with too many uncertainties already.

He never knew when his dad would come home drunk, or what tiny action might set him off when he did, and he never knew when his brother’s own pain would spill over into using Jungkook as his punching bag, either verbally or physically.

But he did know that Taehyung cared about him and that had been the one constant in his life since he was twelve years old, and now, nearly three years later, he was willing to risk it all because he couldn’t ignore the feelings that swelled inside of him everytime he saw Taehyung.

Perhaps he shouldn’t have been so caught off guard by them- he’d had a crush on Taehyung ever since they’d first met but that had been juvenile. Not like the way he felt now.

Taehyung reached out for his hand, “Jungkookie-”

Jungkook snatched his hand away, “You should go before hyung starts phoning you in a bit and hears your phone going off in here.”

“We’ll talk about this later. I don’t know when but,” Taehyung sighed, “later.”

Jungkook didn’t respond. He knew all that would come out would be a demand that they talk about it now, and he didn’t want to ruin their limited time alone together more than he already had.

Taehyung pulled Jungkook into his side briefly before releasing him and climbing out of the bedroom window.

After a few minutes, Jungkook picked himself off the bed and carefully pushed his door open. He checked there was no sign of his brother before emerging fully.

Whenever he was upset like this, he went for a shower. The running water hid any sound of tears that might be shed while the hot water reminded him of when his mum used to hug him. Not that she’d done so for years- his dad had made her stop, saying that Jungkook was a man now and men didn’t need hugs from anyone.

Jungkook had been ten and he definitely still needed to be held in someone’s arms.

Now, that someone was Taehyung. Those gentle touches had started off with nothing more than the older boy ruffling his hair but then Taehyung’s fingers had started to linger and thread their way through Jungkook’s hair. Then Jungkook, seeking the kind of comfort he hadn’t had in years, had crept closer until folding himself into Taehyung’s arms felt as easy as breathing.

But his feelings for Taehyung were like a double edged sword- impossible to grasp.

Would things be easier when they were older?

Jungkook hoped so because he didn’t want to think about what his life would be like without Taehyung.

Jungkook lay on his bed, his hair still damp from his shower due to the humidity of the summer air. Staring up at the cracked ceiling, he inhaled deeply, smelling the spicy aroma that wafted to his room from the kitchen.

He’d heard Taehyung ask Junghyun where he was numerous times since he’d got back with the food shopping he’d done for Jungkook.

Good, he’d thought to himself, let him be the one who’s left hanging for once.

Barely a week went by without Jungkook having to powerlessly watch what seemed like every girl in Taehyung’s year flirt with him because Taehyung kept him secret.

His secret shame- that he was in love with a fourteen year old (and Jungkook suspected at least slightly attracted to though Taehyung steered clear of the topic at all times).

He knew it had nothing to do with coming out as gay, Taehyung would’ve come out before now if it hadn’t meant being cut off by Junghyun. It was all because he thought there was something wrong with him for loving Jungkook specifically.

Well, if he was going to leave Jungkook to hang all the time, he could do the same

Maybe he’d start flaunting himself around in front of Yoongi, that would certainly get Taehyung’s attention. And it was becoming increasingly obvious to Jungkook that as he filled out, love of dance gifting him with a more toned physique, Min Yoongi’s interest in him had grown.

There was a soft knock on the door followed by Taehyung’s warm voice, “Jungkook-ah? I’ve cooked dinner but if you’re not hungry yet, I can leave it in the oven.”

Jungkook rolled over hugging his pillow to his chest as he lay there, not answering Taehyung.

“Jungkook!” his brother yelled, banging violently on the door, making Jungkook jump slightly.

“Why do you have to do that?” Taehyung’s voice was clear through the door.

“Do what?”

“Try and scare him all the time. You know, I remember when you were scared of your dad and now you’ve gone and turned into him.”

Previously, Jungkook had wondered how Taehyung got away with speaking to Junghyun like that when nobody else would have dared. But he’d realised that Taehyung got away with it simply because he dared, and some part of Junghyun respected him for that.

He also thought that was how Taehyung was never called out for wearing make-up and jewellery, or the way he carefully styled his hair. Instead of ever hiding those more feminine aspects of who he was, Taehyung left them out in plain sight, and that was what prevented him from being called out for it.

In a city where the slightest deviation from traditional masculinity may as well be a death sentence, Taehyung expertly hid himself in plain sight.

Not like Jungkook, who had only been able to truly express himself after he’d already been found out for not being straight (and incorrectly labelled as gay. Jungkook didn’t know what he was but that wasn’t it). But in a way, he was free from that now.

Distantly, Jungkook heard Junghyun’s own bedroom door slam shut.

After a few seconds, Taehyung’s voice came through the door again but lower down this time, like Taehyung was sitting on the floor.

“Jungkookie, please come eat.” There was a pause. “I’m sorry I snapped at you earlier, I know it’s not easy for you either, and that you worry that I don’t feel the same way about you as you do about me.”

Jungkook rolled the other way to face the door.

“Do you really think I’d be so worried about the legality of what we have between us if I didn’t feel the same way? Or if this was about stringing some kid along just because I could? I don’t want you to have any regrets or to ever feel pushed into anything you weren’t ready for because I want us to be able to be happy together in the years to come. And I hope that we can be together for the rest of our lives because I can’t imagine being with anyone else.”

Jungkook could hear the sincerity in Taehyung’s voice, could imagine seeing it in his eyes.

He rose to his feet and padded towards the door, pressing his ear to the wood as tears began to spill silently from his eyes.

“You’re everything to me, Jungkook and that scares me because I’m scared of what I might do in order to keep hold of you. So I have to keep those concrete boundaries in place to keep you safe from me.”

Jungkook opened the door to find Taehyung kneeling on the floor outside. At the sound of the door opening, he looked up, a plea in his eyes for Jungkook to forgive him.

Crouching down, Jungkook cupped Taehyung’s cheeks in his hands, pressing their foreheads together and breathing in the light, vanilla scent of Taehyung, “You’re the only thing in my life that I don’t need protecting from.”

“I’m not so sure, Jungkookie.”

“Then let me be sure enough for the both of us.”

Taehyoung picked himself up off the floor, holding his hand out to help Jungkook up.

“Come on, you should eat before Yoongi gets here.”

Jungkook frowned, “Why?”

“Did you not hear him the other day?” Taehyung asked, leading Jungkook by the hand to the kitchen table. “He found his biological mum, don’t ask me how, and he decided to go see her today.”

“But isn’t that good?”

Yoongi felt like a great disappointment to his adoptive parents, who had been hoping for a more well-behaved child that did better in school. Not one who smoked weed and did nothing but write lyrics and melodies during class.

Taehyung placed a steaming bowl of beef stew in front of Jungkook, along with a set of chopsticks and a spoon, “She gave him up for a reason. I’m just worried he won’t like what he finds and then he’ll be looking for something or someone to take his anger out on.”

“I doubt that’ll be me.”

“If it was just Yoongi I’d agree but he goes along with your brother far too easily for comfort. I’d just feel better if you were safely out of the way.”

Out of the way and away from Taehyung.

Taehyung must have seen the look on Jungkook’s face because his long fingers began threading their way through Jungkook’s hair, soothing him.

“I’ll try and sneak into your room, sweetheart. They’ll probably just get stoned so it won’t exactly be hard.”

Jungkook nodded, appeased, and tucked into his dinner.

Distracted by the film playing on the television, Taehyung’s fingers absentmindedly traced circles into the skin above Jungkook’s knee, his legs slung over Taehyung’s, occasionally drifting under the hem of his shorts. His other arm was wrapped around Jungkook’s waist, holding him close.

Yoongi hadn’t turned up so Taehyung had suggested they watch a film, convincing Junghyun to let Jungkook stay in the living room with them.

Junghyun was beside them on the sofa having fallen asleep- he always said he found horror films boring but Jungkook knew that he purposely fell asleep because he was scared. Taehyung probably knew that too.

Even so, it was still risky but they both needed to be close to each other, especially after their earlier argument.

Taehyung gripped Jungkook’s leg as a black figure appeared in a doorway behind the film’s protagonist

“Scared, Taehyungie?” Jungkook teased.

“Why’d you have to pick one in a foreign language?” Taehyung whined, unable to look away from the screen lest he miss what was being said.

“Because if you didn’t have to read the subtitles, you’d be hiding behind your hands.”

And Jungkook was perfectly happy with Taehyung’s hands where they were.

At the sound of the front door knocking, the two of them leapt apart, and Jungkook quickly glanced over to his brother but he was still fast asleep.

“I’ll get it,” Taehyung said, rising to open the door.

Jungkook leaned forward so that it was in his eyeline, the film forgotten as Taehyung opened the door to Yoongi.

Jungkook’s eyes widened at the sight of him, not because he’d turned up at gone midnight, but because he had clearly been crying- his eyes and nose were bright red. Taehyung was obviously as shocked as he was, stepping silently to the side to let Yoongi in but making no move to comfort him.

“Oi, Junghyun! Wake the fuck up!” Yoongi yelled, kicking his shoes off.

Beside Jungkook, Junghyun stretched, rubbing his eyes blearily, “About time you turned up, Min.”

“Yeah, well, I got us something to have a little fun,” Yoongi smirked, pulling a small plastic bag of white powder.

At the sight of it, Taehyung crept around the back of the sofa, towards Jungkook.

“Is that what I think it is?” Junghyun asked, grinning. “How did you get hold of it?”

“Our usual dealer gave me some other guy’s number.”

Jungkook thought it was safe to say that Yoongi meeting his biological mother had not gone well. His nose wrinkled at the cloying scent of alcohol that clung to the older boy.

“Go to your room,” Taehyung muttered, leaning down to Jungkook’s ear.

Jungkook nodded. He already knew he didn’t want to be around for this. Weed mellowed his brother out to the point where he didn’t remember Jungkook was in the room but cocaine was going to hype him up, and Jungkook didn’t know what that would entail.

Unfortunately, Yoongi had overheard them.

“No, the kid stays in here. I want him to draw something for me.”

Jungkook glanced up at Taehyung, unsure of what to do.

“I’m not going to do anything to you, Kook-ah,” Yoongi rolled his eyes. “I want a tattoo and I want you to draw it.”

“Why would you want him to draw it?” Junghyun drawled.

“Because have you seen the way the kid draws?”

“Whatever, as long as he stays out of the way.”

“I’ll stay until they fall asleep,” Taehyung whispered.

Jungkook nodded and fetched his sketchbook and pencil case from his room, carrying them to the adjoining kitchen so he could sit at the table.

He sat there for hours, drawing sketch after sketch, with Taehyung staying nearby, until Yoongi was satisfied.

“Have you ever kissed anyone, Jungkook-ah?” Yoongi asked conversationally as he ripped the page out of Jungkook’s sketchbook and folded it up to take with him.

“That’s a weird question to ask a fourteen year old,” Taehyung interjected.

“He’s nearly fifteen, Taehyung. He’s not a child anymore.”

The two older boys were like day and night. Taehyung was warm and light, with his tanned skin and voice like honey, while Yoongi was icy-cold, his veins clearly visible under his pale skin, but there was a strange softness to him.

Yoongi was the devil, enticing him towards sin, and Taehyung-

Taehyung was his guardian angel.

“I’m the school faggot, remember? What do you think?” Jungkook muttered, twirling a colouring pencil around his fingers.

“Don’t call yourself that,” Taehyung scolded.

“Why not? It’s true.”

“Because you shouldn’t put yourself down like that. There’s nothing wrong with you.”

“It’s a shame, really,” Yoongi mused. “You can tell you’ve started working out, I bet the girls would be all over you if they didn’t know you were gay.”

Taehyung’s fingers curled into a fist on the table. At first, Jungkook was confused but then he realised. Taehyung was getting jealous.

“It’s really just for dance,” Jungkook shrugged. “Jimin-hyung, he’s on the team, he told me that it’s better for your muscles if you strengthen them, then you’re less likely to pull something dancing.”

“I see, and looking good is just a lucky side effect?” Yoongi smiled.

“I can’t believe I’m having to say this again,” Taehyung hissed, “but he is fourteen whether his birthday’s coming up or not.”

Jungkook knew the comment wasn’t aimed entirely at Yoongi, that Taehyung was also reminding himself of that fact.

“Yoongi, time for another hit?” Junghyun asked, putting on some music.

“Sure, let’s go,” Yoongi said, getting up. “Come on, Tae.”

Taehyung stood reluctantly, glancing back at Jungkook as he went to join his supposed friends.

Jungkook pulled his sketchbook back towards himself, blocking out the drug fuel frenzied energy of his brother.

Jungkook eyelids felt heavy, telling him he’d accidentally fallen asleep at the table again, too absorbed in his drawings to bother going to bed.

“Get off,” he whined as someone lifted his arm.

Taehyung’s voice hushed him, “It’s only me, sweetheart. I’m just putting you to bed.”

He was easily lifted into Taehyung’s arms, his own arm slung across Taehyung’s shoulder and his face nestled into the crook of his neck.

“Wait, I need my sketchbook,” he said, reaching his other arm back towards the kitchen.

“I already put it in your room, Kookie,” Taehung reassured him, knowing that Jungkook wasn’t keen on the idea of his brother looking through it.

“Stay tonight, please,” he pleaded when Taehyung lowered him into the bed, clearly not planning on getting into it with him.

Taehyung tucked the duvet up around him, “I’ve got work later or you know I would. But my break’s at two so you can come visit, if you want to.”

Taehyung worked at one of the many small independent coffee houses in the city so that he could buy Jungkook food whenever his parents were away as well as restock his art supplies. Most of Jungkook’s wardrobe and jewellery were also from Taehyung but in the form of hand-me-downs (not that Taehyung hadn’t tried to take Jungkook clothes shopping after his last growth spurt).

“Of course I want to.”

And with his parents away, there was nobody to stop him.

“How about we have lunch together?”

“Sounds good, Taehyungie,” Jungkook murmured, being dragged back down into sleep.

Distantly, he could feel Taehyung’s fingers stroking his hair while he sang to him, “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine…”

Present Day

“What’s the theme?”

The sound of Jimin’s voice made Jungkook jump, snapping him out of the intense concentration that came over him when he sketched.

He’d made excellent progress (in his opinion) on his project for his class. His piece for “love” was now a double-page spread with the fallen angel on one side, feathers scattered around the hunched figure, and a man laying spread-eagle on a bed of flowers on the other.

Jungkook put his pencil down, deciding that it was as good a time as any to take a break since he’d already been interrupted. He looked around for Yoongi but he was nowhere to be seen- Jungkook assumed he’d gone to get takeaway, spending yet more of Jungkook’s money.

“Love. It’s pretty broad.”

Jimin perched on the end of the table, his pupils blown wide from whatever he’d been taking (Jungkook kept an eye on what Yoongi bought and flushed anything he deemed too far, and generally Yoongi took the hint, but Jimin was a mystery to him as far as that was concerned), “I’ll be honest, Kook… I don’t get it.”

Jungkook sighed, “You have to look at both together, hyung. The fallen angel gives his wings to the man he loves.”

“So it’s about Kim Taehyung. You used to call him your angel.”

“Not like that,” he lied.

Jimin raised an eyebrow at him, “I was in Taehyung’s year, do you really think I didn’t see that photo?”

Who hadn’t seen that photo?

Yet that day had been one of the best days of Jungkook’s life because Taehyung had finally-

No, he wasn’t going to think about it. It was pointless, he couldn’t change the past.

“It wasn’t like Junghyun said.”

“I know, I remember thinking that picture was pretty damning but also that your brother must be blind and an idiot. And everyone else, actually,” Jimin mused.

“What do you mean?” Jungkook frowned.

Jimi thought for a moment, dragging up his memories of what had happened back then, “Well, your brother obviously put it out that Taehyung was taking advantage of you-” Jungkook nodded along, he knew that part “-but I remember when he used to bring you to dance practice. At first, I thought it was a bit creepy the way he used to be so fixated on you but it soon became obvious he was absolutely head over heels in love with you. Guy must have had bad taste,” Jimin teased.

“Very funny, hyung,” Jungkook said flatly.

“Anyway,” Jimin continued with his version of events, “when you left the team and came back a year later with Min Yoongi, of all people, on your arm, I had to wonder what happened with you and Taehyung.”

He could keep on wondering because Jungkook certainly wasn’t about to start talking to him about it. He was very aware of where Jimin’s loyalties lay and wouldn’t trust him with anything he might not want getting back to Yoongi.

Jungkook shrugged, “Well, things didn’t work out and I preferred Yoongi.”

Or he’d been an idiot and thought the ability to stick a clear label on a relationship, and to be given that physical aspect, was worth more than everything Taehyung had ever given him.

Jimin rolled his eyes, “Yeah, and that’s why I haven’t seen you look genuinely happy in three years, because you and Yoongi are so happy together.”

He picked up one of Jungkook’s pencils, holding it up to inspect it.

One of the pencils from the last set that Taehyung had ever bought him, and had been hidden at the bottom of a drawer ever since they moved to Seoul a year ago. He wasn’t sure why he’d gotten them out now except maybe to torture himself.

“Stop acting like you know me,” Jungkook snapped, snatching the pencil from Jimin’s hand. “I’m going to work in the kitchen.”

He didn’t spare Jimin a second glance as he hurriedly gathered his supplies into a messy bundle in his arms and carried them into the other room.

After dumping everything unceremoniously onto the small table, Jungkook moved over to the fridge. It was bare except for a single photograph, taken on a rollercoaster when he, Taehyung, Yoongi and Junghyun had gone to a theme park when he’d been fifteen.

Really, Taehyung had wanted to take Jungkook out for the day but he couldn’t do that without taking the other two, or it would have looked too suspicious. However, Yoongi and Junghyun were both terrified of rides so he and Taehyung had plenty of time just the two of them.

His fingers brushed across Taehyung’s face, his boxy grin impossibly wide as he’d laughed at the way Jungkook had cheered the entire way around the ride.

But those days were over and there was no point crying over spilt milk.

Except that Jimin was right- Jungkook was miserable, staying with Yoongi out of a sense of duty more than anything else.

If he could, he’d walk out of the flat and get on his knees to beg Taehyung to give them a second chance. But Yoongi’s threat echoed through his mind. He’d been high as a kite when he’d said it but that only made his words more sincere.

“Kook, can you get some plates out?” Yoongi called from the hallway, apparently back with food.

Wiping the tears from his eyes, Jungkook moved to do as he was asked, reaching into the top cupboard to pull the plates down.

However, he forgot about the mug he’d also stowed in there, just to the side of the plates, because he’d been too tired to put it in the proper cupboard after drying up. Unnoticed by him, it was pushed slightly by the edge of a plate until it tumbled from the shelf to shatter on the floor.

Jungkook froze, staring wide eyed at the shards of porcelain scattered across the tiles.

Quick, pick it up before dad sees, you idiot!

Heart racing, Jungkook threw himself onto his knees to pick up the broken pieces of the mug.

“It’s alright, Kook, it’s just a mug,” Yoongi said, coming into the kitchen “we’ll just- Jungkook, what are you doing?”

Jungkook stared at his hand clenched in a tight fist around a shard of porcelain, blood oozing between his fingers. He suddenly gasped in pain, like he hadn’t been aware of it until he looked at it, but he didn’t let go.

Instead, he gripped it tighter until he cried out.

You deserve this pain for what you put Taehyung through and what you’re putting Yoongi through. To love you is to be burned.

Yoongi prised his fingers open and the shard fell from his palm, sticky with blood which now dripped onto the floor.

“Fucking hell, Jungkook.” Yoongi held Jungkook’s hand up towards the light, inspecting it. “Come on, we’ll have to take you to get this looked at. What were you thinking?”

Jungkook pulled his hand out of Yoongi’s grip, “I’m fine. I’ll take myself to the minor injuries unit.”

The hospital wasn’t far away, he could walk the distance in less than twenty minutes.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Yoongi scolded, yanking the tea towel from a drawer handle and wrapping it around Jungkook’s hand, “you can’t go on your own.”

“The Chinese takeaway down the road might not care that you’re stoned but the hospital will, Yoongi. I’ll be fine, it’s not like you’ve ever looked after me before.”

Yoongi had no response to that because he knew it was true. Yoongi might have been in pain and needed the drugs to numb himself but what about him? What would they ever have done if Jungkook had seriously injured himself?

Jungkook stood up and, being careful not to get blood inside the sleeve, tugged his jacket on in the hallway.

“At least text me,” Yoongi said, following him.

“Yeah, whatever,” Jungkook mumbled as he opened the front door and slipped out into the foyer.

He had twenty minutes to think of a good excuse for why he had a gash across the palm of his hand. He definitely couldn’t tell them he’d zoned out while he’d done it, or that he deserved it.

For one thing, he couldn’t afford to take the time off work when they no doubt chalked it up to stress and signed him off. The good thing about his job was that he was technically self-employed so could work as and when he chose but the disadvantage of that was the lack of sick or holiday pay.

Luckily, it wasn’t the first time Jungkook had had to lie about how he got an injury.

Taehyung spun around on the swivelly chair that had somehow found its way into the break room. He should probably be making the most of his break but with ten minutes still left, he was bored.

That was the problem with working the night shift- he couldn’t go anywhere on his break.

“Taehyung?”

He spun back around to the door, sitting up straight but relaxed when he saw it was only Soojin. The two of them had been at university doing their nursing course together and after graduating that summer, they’d both gotten jobs in the minor injuries unit at the same hospital. He was glad for it though- Soojin was the closest thing he’d had to a friend in nearly ten years.

“What is it?”

“There’s a young man in the waiting room, he’s just cut his hand, and I know you’re on your break but do you mind seeing him? I’ll tell Choi-nim and you can have the extra ten minutes after.”

“Why don’t you want to do it?” Taehyung asked, suspicious.

“Remember that kid that came in a few weeks ago and we suspected that the broken arm maybe wasn’t an accident? And how you were really good with him?” Taehyung nodded, unsure where she was going with this. “Well, this guy’s crying silently.”

“And? Maybe he’s embarrassed?”

“No,” Soojin said firmly, “people cry because they’re hurt and their instinct is to attract attention so someone will help them. People only cry silently because they’ve been conditioned not to attract attention but they still can’t stop themselves.”

Taehyung considered her words- he knew she was right. Soojin’s hobbies included reading psychological research papers in her free time.

“Also, he’s clearly lying about how he did it,” she added. “He’s dripping blood onto the floor but he says a broken bit of mug was wrapped up in something else and he accidentally grabbed it. He’s obviously used to having to lie about these things. And you’ve got a knack for these types of things. I haven’t got the emotional capacity for it.”

“Fine,” Taehyung strode towards her, holding his hand out, “give me the sheet. What's the name?”

“A Jeon Jungkook,” she said, checking the clipboard as she handed it over.

Taehyung’s blood turned cold.

“Tae, what's wrong?”

“Nothing, I just know a guy with that name.”

And a boy who used to cry silently

“Well it's a pretty common name, so I'm sure it's not the same one.”

“You’re probably right, you always are,” Taehyung said, smiling reassuringly at her before making his way to the waiting room.

He looked down at the board as he stepped through the double doors, acting as if the name meant nothing to him, “Jeon Jungkook?”

When a chair creaked to his left, he looked up straight into the eyes of his Jungkook.

“I’ll go to a different hospital,” Jungkook said, hastily wiping his eyes as he walked away

Taehyung’s eyes moved from the blood-soaked towel wrapped around his hand to the blood on the floor to the trail of blood that dripped from Jungkook’s hand as he walked away.

He took a deep breath, he had to be careful, he couldn’t make it look like he knew Jungkook.

“The closest one is a forty-five minute drive away,” he called, following after him.

He knew Jungkook wasn’t stupid and there was a concerning amount of blood on the floor. Hopefully, the reminder would be enough to make him stay.

Jungkook stopped and turned on his heel.

“I want someone else to see me.”

“There’s nobody else available.”

“I can wait.”

Taehyung stepped closer, keeping his voice low so only Jungkook could hear him, “Jungkook please, just let me-” do my job , that was what he was supposed to say “-look after you.”

Jungkook shook his head, “I can’t-”

Taehyung caught him as he stumbled slightly.

Under the guise of supporting him, Taehyung discreetly moved one hand down to Jungkook’s waist, and whispered into his ear, “Sweetheart, this is silly… I’m still your angel.”

Jungkook’s breath hitched and Taehyung worried he’d pushed too far. But Jungkook silently nodded, allowing Taehyung to lead him out of the waiting area.

Usually, he would have dealt with this kind of injury on the main ward but given the circumstances, he opted to go to one of the private examination rooms, making sure to lock the door behind them.

“So you really did come to do that nursing degree,” Jungkook mused, seating himself on the bed.

“Why would you think I didn’t?” Taehyung asked, putting a couple of pillows behind him and gently pushing Jungkook back against them.

He then went to the sink and washed his hands while Jungkook spoke, “I wondered if maybe you’d lied so you had an excuse to leave.”

“You left me first,” Taehyung said, collecting a wad of gauze, a bottle of disinfectant, bandages and a needle and thread.

“You pushed me away, you asked me to live with you but not as boyfriends, like a parent and child,” Jungkook muttered bitterly.

If the night before he left for Seoul was the second worst night of his life then the night Jungkook was referring to was the worst night of his life. He’d messed up, he knew that, and he’d had four long years to think about that.

Jungkook was right, he’d wanted Jungkook to live with him so he could look after him properly and get him out of that house, but he’d failed to appreciate that Jungkook would see that as a rejection, and Jungkook had reacted badly to that.

The only person who had shown him genuine love and affection had seemingly rejected him, of course he’d lashed out and threatened Taehyung with the prospect of leaving him for Yoongi. It wasn’t as if Jungkook had ever been shown how to handle emotions properly in a home like his.

And Taehyung had reacted even worse than Jungkook.

He surreptitiously wiped his clammy hands on the inside of the pockets of his scrubs before pulling the trolley over to Jungkook. He also dragged the wheeled stool over with him to sit on beside him.

When he unwrapped the sodden towel, Taehyung found that some of the blood had dried, sticking the towel to the wound. He pulled it off as gently as he could, tensing everytime Jungkook hissed in pain.

“Remember step one, Kookie?” Taehyung asked, pressing some of the gauze he’d collected into Jungkook’s palm.

“Stop the bleeding.”

“So why are you still bleeding everywhere?”

“I tried,” Jungkook pouted.

“You should have lifted it above your heart,” Taehyung told him, lifting Jungkook’s arm with his own fingers pressing tightly onto the wound.

“You were always better at this than me.”

“I kind of had to be.”

How many times had Taehyung patched Jungkook up, whether from his dad’s fists or the bullies at school?

Jungkook leaned back against the pillows, “My head feels funny.”

“You’ve lost a fair amount of blood but you should be alright in the morning, you just need to rest and let Yoongi pamper you a bit.” Jungkook snorted derisively. “And no…” Taehyung paused awkwardly. He took a deep breath and reminded himself that he needed to do his job still. “And no getting aroused for the next week or so or you’ll feel dizzy. You need your blood to stay in your head.”

“I’ve only ever been attracted to one man in my life and it certainly isn’t Min Yoongi, so I don’t think that’ll be a problem.”

“Why that one man?”

He didn’t need to ask who it was as he looked into those warm, doe-eyes.

I’m not into boys either...apparently that doesn't apply to you... I want all these things that I’ve never wanted before and it scares me...

“I’ve never really been able to work out my sexuality but I think that for me, attraction is based on the emotional connection.” Taehyung nodded to show he understood. “The only man I’ve ever been attracted to is also the only man I've ever truly loved. But then he left me and came to Seoul.”

“This isn’t the way I wanted things to be either, Jungkook.”

“If you’d let me have what I wanted, you would’ve had what you wanted.”

“You needed stability and a good home, and I had to choose between what you needed and what you- what we both wanted.” Taehyung lowered Jungkook’s hand, gently lifting the gauze to see that the bleeding had stopped for the time being. “Or so I thought but I was wrong, and I’ve regretted it ever since.”

He knew he’d said too much but everything had always come spilling out of him around Jungkook. Just never the right things.

He’d never managed to tell him that he loved him.

“Right, let’s get this clean and stitched up,” he said brusquely, avoiding the tension crackling in the air, not giving Jungkook a chance to shoot him down.

“Does this mean I’m going to end up with a cool scar?”

Taehyung was glad that Jungkook was playing along.

“Maybe but you might not be able to see it very well because your palms aren’t smooth anyway.”

The lines criss-crossing the skin were likely to obscure the kind of faint scar that Jungkook might get.

He wiped the blood from Jungkook’s fingers before dousing a cotton pad in disinfectant and making sure the wound was properly cleaned.

Jungkook flinched when it came into contact with the cut but Taehyung had been expecting that and held his wrist firmly. He’d always been the same.

“What happened, Kookie? This wasn’t just from accidentally picking up a broken bit of china, it’s too deep.”

Taehyung prayed to a God he didn’t believe in that Jungkook would let him in the way he once had.

“I’ll tell you but as Taehyungie, not Nurse Kim.”

“I was asking as Taehyungie,” he reassured him, threading the needle to stitch the wound.

It would give him something to concentrate on while Jungkook talked. He just hoped he could keep his hand steady.

“I accidentally dropped a mug and I was picking it up, but I… I don’t know… it was like I zoned out and when I came back round, I was holding one of the pieces in my hand and then I thought, I deserve this, I deserve to be hurt like this.”

“You don’t deserve it, Jungkook. You never have.”

“Don’t I? I kept pushing you when you were trying your best.”

“And you’d never been given a chance to make mistakes and grow from them. It’s human to make mistakes, Jungkook. I wanted to give you a space to do that but I ended up doing the opposite.”

With the cut stitched, Taehyung held a dressing over it and began wrapping a bandage around it with practiced movements.

“I really am sorry, Jungkookie. I was so focused on your immaturity that I forgot about my own. But really neither of us were equipped to deal with such a delicate situation.”

He’d seen everything in black and white- what Jungkook needed versus what he wanted- but the two things weren’t that easy to separate.

Jungkook hadn’t needed a boyfriend in general, but he had needed for Taehyung to take that final step after two years of walking that fine line.

Most teenagers had the chance to have their little crushes and their “relationships” that nobody expected to go anywhere. But they hadn’t.

They’d collided into each other and neither of them had been able to handle it.

The only difference between them had been that somewhere inside himself, Jungkook had known that so he had bowed to what Taehyung thought best while Taehyung had plowed ahead, sure that he was right.

Maybe he shouldn’t be telling Jungkook that right now, maybe it was too late, far too late… but Taehyung was still desperate for the one thing that only Jungkook could give him.

He wanted to be forgiven.

“Wiggle your fingers for me.”

Jungkook oblingingly curled and uncurled his fingers.

Satisfied that everything was working fine, and that the bandage was secure, Taehyung picked up the bloody gauze and got up to put it in the bin, turning his back on Jungkook.

Suddenly, arms wrapped firmly around his waist.

“I forgive you,” Jungkook breathed, his warm breath tickling the back of Taehyung’s neck.

He stepped forward slightly and Jungkook’s fingers snagged in the fabric of his scrubs.

“It’s alright, I’m just turning around.”

He hadn’t held Jungkook in his arms in three years, and this could be his only chance to ever do it again, he wanted to do it right.

Taehyung held Jungkook tightly, burying his nose in the hair that was as feather-soft as he remembered. Jungkook had always seen Taehyung as his caretaker, his guardian angel, but there was something about having Jungkook’s arms wrapped around him that made Taehyung feel safe.

It made him feel whole.

“I’m sorry for being so aloof at the club,” Jungkook said softly. “I just didn’t know what to do and I didn’t want to get hurt again.”

“What are we going to do, Jungkook?”

He couldn’t bare to lose Jungkook again but he didn’t have the right to ask anything of Jungkook.

“I don’t know but we’ll work it out. We found each other in this huge city, that means we’re meant to be.”

“I wish I had your optimism, Jungkook.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got enough for the both of us.”

“Come on, I’ll give you a lift home,” Taehyung said, his heart heavy.

He wondered if this whole encounter counted as a form of self harm.

“I don’t think you’re just allowed to leave work, Taehyung,” Jungkook smiled, pulling away from him, though his hands still lingered on his waist.

“Soojin can cover for me for a bit, she owes me for interrupting my break to deal with you.”

Jungkook raised an eyebrow, “I thought you said nobody else was available to treat me.”

“I lied.”

“I’m glad you did.”

“I can’t believe you lived so close the entire time,” Taehyung huffed, pulling up outside of Jungkook’s block of flats.

He noted that Jungkook’s directions had taken him the long way round despite Jungkook always taking the most direct route everywhere back in Busan.

“Like I said, we’re obviously meant to be.”

“Except that both of us have boyfriends and I know you, you won’t leave Yoongi because we both know he’d end up on the streets.”

He was trying not to think of how he would ever get away from Hoseok.

“Does that not mean we can be friends?”

Taehyung felt like he’d been punched in the gut even though he shouldn’t have been surprised by the words.

“Yeah, of course,” he said, smiling through the pain of his heart shattering into even more fragmented pieces.

Jungkook unbuckled his seatbelt, “My phone number hasn’t changed, by the way.”

“Who says I kept it?”

“I do because I know you. I bet you still have that memory box, too And I bet your boyfriend really appreciates that.”

“He doesn’t know about it

Jungkook clicked his tongue, “I see. You’re still ashamed of me.”

“It’s not like that, Jungkook. He gets jealous easily and I don’t want him to destroy any of it.”

“Sounds healthy,” Jungkook drawled, in a tone reminiscent of Yoongi.

It made Taehyung want to punch something.

“Yeah because you and Yoongi are the poster children for healthy upbringings and relationships.”

Jungkook shrugged, “At least now we’re only messing each other up, and like you say, neither of us were exactly undamaged to begin with.”

“I should get back to work.”

“Wouldn’t want people to say I was the bad influence this time, would we?” Jungkook chuckled, getting out of the car. “Bye, Taehyung.”

When Jungkook was a few paces away, Taehyung rolled the passenger side window down. “Jungkook!” he called.

Jungkook came back to the car, leaning his forearms against the rolled down window, “Yeah?”

“Make sure you keep that hand clean.”

Jungkook smiled brightly, his slightly oversized front teeth on full display, making him look like that twelve year old boy Taehyung had first met all those years ago, “Of course, angel.”

April 2016

Taehyung grunted as he lifted the shopping bags onto the kitchen side.

“Hey, Taehyung,” Jungkook greeted him cheerfully, unphased by Taehyung letting himself into the house. “Do you want some help?”

At least he’d been able to come in through the front door instead of sneaking in through Jungkook’s bedroom window. He’d been hoping that Jungyun would move away for university to make things easier both for him to see Jungkook and for Jungkook to get some peace at least when his parents went away. But it seemed like the universe wanted to constantly spite him because Junghyun was still living at home and if anything, more likely to be there than he had been before since he needed somewhere to bring girls home to.

“No, you just sit,” Taehyung said, starting to unpack the shopping.

He knew Jungkook only wanted to sneak the bag of dried seaweed out of the bag before Taehyung could stop him and he didn’t want him ruining his dinner.

Jungkook hopped up onto the side, kicking his legs, “Do you know where Junghyun is? He’s been gone for two days.”

Taehyung wondered if Junghyun knew that Jungkook worried about him and always asked after him. Would he even care? Or would he find some way to twist it against that sweet boy?

“I’m sorry, Jungkook. I only saw him today. If I'd known, I would've brought you food sooner.”

Of course Jungkook could have text him but he never did so Taehyung had stopped expecting it. The pride that Taehyung had noticed in him when he was only twelve had only grown in the last three and a half years.

“Is he alright?” Jungkook pressed.

“He’s fine, Jungkook.”

“Is he with Yoongi?”

“I’ll give you three guesses.”

Jungkook hummed thoughtfully, “I tried texting Yoongi to find out but he never replied.”

Taehyung’s jaw clenched, he was having to constantly reign himself in whenever he was around both Yoongi and Jungkook. The way Yoongi was looking at Jungkook made his skin crawl.

“I never used to like Yoongi,” Jungkook continued, “but he’s been different lately. He’s stopped calling me a bratty kid and actually talks to me. He told me he's going to move up to Seoul and make music.”

“You should stay away from Yoongi, Jungkook.”

He was only interested in Jungkook when it was convenient or when he wanted an ego boost, and Jungkook liked to use Yoongi to make Taehyung jealous whenever he was feeling insecure (which was most of the time), or to get back at his brother. Taehyung couldn’t think of a worse combination.

“Worried I’m going to replace you with another one of Junghyun’s friends?” Jungkook smirked.

“No, we both know you could never replace me, Kookie. Who else is going to remember to buy all your favourite snacks?”

And who else would be willing to stand up to Junghyun the way he did?

“I’d like to try charcoals next but they might be a bit too messy…”

Taehyung had been listening attentively while Jungkook rambled about what he’d been drawing recently and what he had planned for the future.

They were sitting on the kitchen side together, their legs brushing against each other comfortably.

“I’ll get you something to put down while you do it, then you can just wash that every now and then.”

Jungkook opened his mouth to say something but froze when the front door banged open.

“Tae? What are you doing here?” Junghyun called from the living room, obviously spotting his shoes on the rack.

“Someone had to feed your brother.”

“He’s capable of cooking, you know,” Junghyun laughed, coming in with his latest girlfriend on his arm.

Taehyung had probably been told her name at some point but they came and went so fast that he never bothered remembering them.

“Not when there's no food in the house he’s not,” Taehyung snapped.

“Just remember whose brother he is, Taehyung.”

“You’re the one who needs to remember that, not me.”

Junghyun laughed, “Maybe you could hook Tae up with one of your friends?” he said to the girl. “I think getting laid would really loosen him up.”

The girl looked him up and down appraisingly, “I’ve got plenty of friends who would be interested in him.”

Taehyung fixed Junghyun with an icy glare, “I told you, I’m already with someone.”

Beside him, Jungkook tensed.

Taehyung discreetly reached behind him until his fingers found Jungkook’s and squeezed them reassuringly.

“And you won't let me, your best friend, meet them so you're clearly not that into her.”

“More like you're a dick and he doesn’t want to subject people to you,” Jungkook shot back, stung by his brother’s words.

Junghyun’s cheeks flushed with rage and Taehyung shifted forward, ready to dive between him and Jungkook if he had to. Fortunately, Junghyun remembered who else was there and merely snorted dismissively before leading the girl to his bedroom.

“You shouldn’t rile him up, Jungkook.”

“He already hits me for being something that I’m not, what else can he do to me?”

Taehyung didn’t know but something told him Junghyun was, despite his hard exterior, even more vulnerable on the inside than Jungkook, and far more volatile if pushed.

“I just think you should be careful.”

Present Day

Taehyung gazed out of the window towards Jungkook’s building, the engine still running.

He knew he shouldn’t be there, that he should be leaving it alone, but he couldn’t ignore the fact that despite getting a scholarship, Jungkook was still having to work at a strip club.

Just how much money was Yoongi wasting on drugs?

He couldn’t stand the thought that despite managing to escape his childhood home, Jungkook might still be going hungry because of the person who was supposed to love and look after him.

Except that had been him and what had Yoongi ever done?

He doubted Jungkook would accept any kind of financial help from him but he wouldn’t be able to look his reflection in the eye if he didn’t try.

Hoseok would kill me if he knew what I was planning on doing , he tried telling himself as if that would do anything.

Jeon Jungkook was quickly filling Taehyung’s world once more, eclipsing anything else, and Taehyung welcomed it with open arms.

December 2017

“I just think you should try it, Kook-ah.”

Partway through his warm-up stretches, Jimin looked over towards the studio entrance, expecting to see a newcomer to the dance club. Instead, he saw a boy he hadn’t seen in over a year and hadn’t expected to see ever again.

And certainly not with the infamous Min yoongi in tow.

But there was no mistaking those wide eyes.

He couldn’t help feeling sorry for the boy- Jungkook- after his brother had cruelly sent that picture around everyone in his own year, Jungkook’s and Taehyung’s. Of course that had been enough to make sure that the whole school saw it.

Jimin went over to the pair hovering by the door, smiling brightly, “Hey, Kook-ah, are you rejoining?”

“No,” Jungkook folded his arms over his chest.

“Yes,” Yoongi said firmly.

Jimin thought he had a good idea of why Jungkook was so reluctant to come back.

“Hyun-Woo left a while ago,” Jimin told him.

Jungkook instantly perked up, “Really?”

“Really. You should go warm-up before we start.”

Jungkook practically skipped on his way to the coat hooks.

“Thanks,” Yoongi muttered, watching him go.

“It’s nothing, I always thought he was kind of adorable. I’m Park Jimin, by the way.”

Yoongi fixed him with an intense gaze, “Min Yoongi.”

Jimin giggled, “Yeah, I know who you are. The only people more well known than you are him-” he stuck his thumb out towards Jungkook “- and Kim Taehyung.”

Yoongi sighed, his eyes moving back to Jungkook, “Why do I get the feeling that name’s going to follow me fucking everywhere?"

Jimin didn’t respond, he didn't think Yoongi would like the answer that came to mind.

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girltclk · 2 years

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👫 for lexi and miju!

send a 👫and i’ll write four however many headcanons I have about our muse’s relationship. / accepting.

lexi kim & kim miju.

the first year they met, miju did everything she can to avoid lexi. she was so tall and looked mad all the time. she didn’t have any friends besides tyler and her brother. but, one day, when she’s being ganged up on by the popular girls behind her school where they rip up her art project she worked so earnestly on for weeks, lexi scared them all off, and helped her piece it back together. they’d slowly gotten closer since then, even though it took almost two years for miju to find the courage to call her by her name.

miju is not tech savvy whatsoever. she rarely uses a phone. ( because it’s not like there are many people to contact. ) and the mechanics she does use is taught to her by lexi, tyler, and / or her brother. however, despite this, ever since lexi started streaming did miju do her best not to miss it. she comments so many heart eyes and supportive messages at first that she had gotten banned at least once by a mod who didn’t know her. she has no idea what’s going on when she watches, just comments to be supportive.

miju’s first kiss was almost with lexi. she had known she liked girls since she was thirteen, she’d liked her former crush, hyera, for twelve. at the age of sixteen, she asks lexi to practice kissing with her. of course, she had no idea that lexi was in love with her and didn’t for many years. but she put saran wrap over her face as a barrier ( making it, according to 16 year old miju, not a real kiss. ) and just before their lips touched, her brother walks in to tell her dinner is ready. cue a very confused older brother walking out the door. this was probably the first time haneul had caught on to his sister’s best friend’s true feelings.

literally everyone and i mean EVERYONE knew lexi was in love with miju. tyler, haneul, lexi’s viewers, friends, acquaintances, co - workers, miju’s neighbors, the cashier at the grocery store, lexi’s dog.... everyone literally except miju. literally just thought they were really good friends for a decade.

USFW. ok maybe not everyone. miju’s parents are still in denial about their kids both being gay, and it’s gotten worse when tyler moved in next door and she’s been pretending she’d been dating him ever since their ‘ date ‘ when they were 13. she brings him to family events, but she also brings lexi. she tries to explain to family memebrs at first that lexi is her partner, not tyler. but, it flies right over everyone’s head and next thing you know tyler and miju are at the center of attention with every auntie taking pictures of them with lexi glaring on the side. she makes it up to her though by dragging her into the bathroom and showing her that even though her family won’t see it, she’s only lexi’s.

they both get each other into their respective interests. in particular, miju developed a love for animal crossing. they even share an island together, but it’s mostly miju playing and spending countless hours decorating and looking for sharks. she’s made lexi watch the godfather so many times, and miju can recite every single line, to the point where even lexi gets it stuck in her head.

tol and smol. miju always depends on lexi to get things for her she can’t reach. not even her brother, even if he’s there. one of the first instances of when miju might have unconsciously fell in love with lexi was about two years into their friendship when she spends ten minutes jumping to get a book from the top shelf at the school library, until something big presses up against her and hovers over her and gives her the book. she just looked so damn cool to her even though it was literally nothing special.

they have different aesthetics AND height differences and its so cute ?! tol gamer gf that wears all black and curses a lot, and the smol ultra feminine artist gf that loves the colors pink and beige and growing flowers. literally kuromi and my melody irl.

they have a very chaotic series in which lexi teaches miju how to play different games. most people expect miju to like the cutesy games like animal crossing and she does but she unexpectedly gets addicted to gta. lexi has to stop her from straying off of the missions to run crowds over. gets to the strip club and starts cheering, spends a little too much time there. lexi has to edit a lot of the strip club scenes out.

the first time miju drinks with lexi, its the first and one of the only times she drinks. it’s a year before their ‘ practice session ‘ and ofc she’d only drank to impress hyera. but, she plays her 50s jazz records on her record player, and clings onto lexi as a sad attempt at slow dancing, but she tells her ‘ i wish i had fallen in love with you instead ‘ and thinks about kissing her, but she gets sick and peels herself off of her to lie down. she has no memory of this, but she does it again years later, except she tells her she’s glad she fell in love with her. thought that was the most original thing she’d done.

miju talks about lexi, if she isn’t talking about movies, art or pokemon. which is still a lot. the girl never shuts her mouth. every person in miju’s life has been victim to the ‘ lexi and i did this, lexi and i did that, did you know lexi does this ‘ pleonasm at least once.

#miju & lexi.#thvndcrous #like i said most of these we talked about #but tbh ill probably update this haha

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ssincielo · 2 years

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@steadyclips asked: 🦋 » what would your character do if they knew they could not fail ?

there’s actually a lot that lourdes laments on, particularly things that have happened in her life that she thinks would have wound up totally different had she done something else, been somewhere else, been someone different. here’s a few.

without a doubt, lourdes would have broken away from the influence of her family’s behaviors and the streets a lot earlier than she did. she would’ve actually listened to the wisdom her brother was trying to instill in her, paid more attention to the way her mother’s family always nitpicked at the things alonzo said or did, the subtle way which her older, more traditional family members would ask lucia during family gatherings: ‘...are you really happy with your life, ‘cia?’ she would go to prom. she would go to cheer competitions. she would graduate high school with a GPA higher than any of the santino children have ever seen. she would go on to do grandiose things in life — go to university. maybe study abroad. fall in love. pick up a craft. earn a degree, begin a career. own a business, even. become the most abnormally normal, mediocre, safe santino.

she would have listened to her intuition on the night ramone was killed. she knew that something was off — daylight peeked past the project buildings against the skyline, and he still wasn’t home from the block. she would’ve stopped her anxious pacing in front of her day bed and went downstairs to the lobby of the apartment instead, she would’ve waited for him at the doors, she would’ve met him on the corner and walked him to a 24 hour diner to pick up breakfast before the sun rose and mass started and the heat hit. lourdes knows that she only did what she could for him as a sixteen year old girl — but she likes to think that if she had just been there, that if they saw him in his element with his civilian baby sister, they probably wouldn’t have shot him under the cover of dawn and left him to bleed out in front of his apartment building.

lastly, she would hug her father. like, really hug him. get a whiff of the cologne that she swears he’s been rocking since ‘06 at the very least, feel the fabric of his clothing against her fingertips, feel the trimmed hairs of his beard poke at the top of her braids because she’s always had to raise herself on her tip toes in order to hold him, make note of the callouses of his hands. they would be gentle with her instead of aggressive, hold her delicately despite its’ history of caressing metal and money and hard drugs and bloody abrasions against the knuckles of his fists. (but she wouldn’t say this out loud to a soul. how depressing would it sound to tell someone that she wishes she could hug her father without fear of failure?)

THOUGHT PROVOKING QUESTIONS. — accepting!

#I’M JUST TRYNA GET MY PAPER STRAIGHT. — 𝖆𝖓𝖘𝖜𝖊𝖗𝖘 #steadyclips

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no-droids · 3 years

Text

Ask Me Again Tomorrow

gif credit @pedros-pascal

Part Sixteen of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 16.3K

Warnings: SMUTTTTT, following/stalking, some fluffy moments but mostly just a lil action and interaction, I don’t think there’s any other warning besides language and the smut (comm sex WITH A TWIST YALLLLL) but if you happen to find something else that warrants a tag, please let me know and I will do so accordingly!

A/N: The response to this story has grown beyond anything I could’ve ever imagined and I genuinely thank you all from the bottom of my heart for the privilege of writing for you. Hope this one ends up being okay and I’ll get to work on the next chapter soon!

***

Headstart—12:17pm:

The sky is so pretty. There isn’t much to look at on the surface—rolling hills and plains, grassy but with dry bare spots breaking up the green stretches, but the sky. It’s an oil painting above you, pastel swishes of yellows and pinks and purples with an enormous ringed planet taking up half the horizon and another sizable moon hanging high.

You should probably be running. Like, for real sprinting, but you can’t push yourself to go faster than a brisk walk. It’s so… free out here, more hills springing up every time you get to the top of the next, warm air filling your lungs. Even though you know realistically that the beginning will likely be the hardest—where you need to focus most on running and putting distance between you instead of hiding—truth be told, you’re not foreseeing making it more than a full day. You’re going to try, obviously, but in the grand scheme, you wouldn’t be surprised in the least if he finds you tomorrow. So, instead of wasting all your energy going as fast as you physically can right out of the gate, you just decide to stroll and think for a little bit.

You know what your goal is. Obviously, to last as long as you can, but more specifically… well, if Din is going to chase after you, then he’s going to try to think like you. Anticipate your movements, if he can’t already see the tracks you leave plain as day. Very soon, he’ll be walking this same exact pathing, following the footprints you’re leaving behind, but if you’re ever able to shake him or throw him off course, he doesn’t have a tracking fob. He doesn’t have any mechanical device that points him in your direction—if you can lose him with the footprints, then he’ll have to rely solely on predicting you. Which means you need to think… exactly the opposite of yourself if you want to outsmart him.

That’s harder than it sounds though, because… is he going to predict you predicting him? At what point does it stop? You somehow have trouble seeing this as an advantage the way he said it would be—you almost wish you had someone else chasing you, someone you didn’t know and someone who didn’t know you if only so this paradox could end before it begins.

You’re walking for about ten minutes before spotting a dirt road in the distance. There’s a person following it in the direction of the sun—you don’t know this planet’s magnetic field but you do know it’s after noon and the sun would set on Arvala-7 in the west, so that’s what you’ll call it for now. You call out to them as soon as you’re in range, and the stranger turns to you.

“Excuse me!” It’s a woman, you see it as you get closer. “I’m so sorry to bother you, but can you tell me where this road leads?”

She removes a sheer yellow shawl covering her dark hair and gives you a friendly smile. “Hello,” the lady greets, before spinning around and pointing back the way she came. “Osiruu is a few hours that way. There’s not much there, but it will take you to G’ila, a transport hub with many opportunities for drifters, or Nariss, the capital. I’m on my way to Shabeth,” she points in the other direction. “It’s far—a day’s walk, but it’s a holy place and offers quite the view. I would be glad for the company, but I understand its lack of practical appeal.”

So this place is safe enough to be inviting strangers along on your travels, noted. You’re going to have to make the decision right now, then. Which path should you take?

Something deep inside you tells you that you want to see this holy place, and just from a few sentences, you already like this woman and feel safe with her. But then all of a sudden, you remember something.

Last known locations tell you a lot about a quarry, Din’s voice drifts back to you, sounding soft and distant from the dark forests of Naboo. Smart ones go to populated planets, planets like Coruscant, planets that make it nearly impossible to find people. Brave ones go to dangerous planets, suicidal ones try their luck in the Unknown Regions, idiots continue to go about their business on their homeworld without caring. But planets like this—like Naboo… those are the pacifists. The ones that don’t ever put up a fight.

You suppose you should decide what kind of quarry you want to be. Friendly company and a view is something you normally crave—it’s something your soul speaks to after going without it for so long during your previous life. You never pictured yourself as the fighting type. When Din first asked you, you told him you wouldn’t run from him if he was chasing you, and choosing to accompany this kind stranger to her destination is essentially just that. Sacrificing a chase for a pretty view.

“Does Shabeth have a sizable population?” You ask her, and she shakes her head.

“It’s the sight of an annual pilgrimage that happens in a few months, but it’s beautiful there and I like to go whenever I can,” she tells you with a soft smile. “But there’s nothing for miles outside it, I’m afraid.”

Your footprints will lead directly there. He’ll find you easily.

“It sounds very nice, but I need to find somewhere with a lot of people,” you give her an apologetic smile. Truly, you think she would’ve made for a nice friend. “Thank you for your help, though, and good luck with your journey! I hope we meet again.”

“Do you need any food or supplies?” She asks you, and you stop short of passing her by. “I don’t have much with me, but know what it’s like to be a newcomer to Sanctuary II. I’d be glad to help.”

Good Maker, is this how everybody is here or did you just hit the jackpot with this lady? She seems like… you, almost. Her voice is gentle, she looks like she’d give nice hugs. You’re about to politely turn her down, but then you realize the brilliant opportunity that’s presented itself in her image.

“Actually, this might sound like a really strange question, but…” you tell her, before looking down at her feet. “Wanna trade shoes with me?”

***

Headstart—6:12pm:

You don’t think it’ll work, but as you walk into a small settlement a few hours later in a unfamiliar and worn pair of sandals, you decide that you’ll need to do this as often as possible. You can’t come up with anything else that’ll throw him off your physical trail besides constantly switching shoes—is that bad? Are you just an idiot with no hope? You’ve had—you check your watch—like, five hours to think of a game plan, and all you’ve come up with is shoes? You’re screwed.

At least there’s food here. Plenty. There’s vendors stationed along the street, multiple people passing by and going about their business. Osiruu, that nice woman said—not much here, but you think she was wrong. There’s children giggling and jumping rope on the corner, a shopkeeper sweeping her storefront, a graying man with an empty cup plucking an unfamiliar melody on an unfamiliar instrument—and while your tummy growls and you know you should quickly buy supplies and be on your way, you still stop for just a few minutes to listen.

It’s a lovely tune. You drop a few credits in his cup after he finishes and find yourself humming it as you look at the plethora of goods being offered by the vendors. Water, food—you buy enough of everything to sustain you for at least a couple days, not wanting to go hungry but also feeling realistic over optimistic. The cuisine is foreign and you just point to things that look appetizing since you’re not sure about the name or pronunciation, but after paying and taking a bite into a rather large piece of purple fruit, your eyes nearly cross at how sweet and tasty it is. Holy Maker, that might just be the best thing you’ve ever tasted. You ask for two more after you finish the first, tucking one in your backpack next to your blaster and munching on the other as you keep browsing.

Suddenly you see shoes—yes. Fucking shoes, your salvation. You take a good look at all your options, of which, there aren’t many. Generic men's, women's, and children's, all in the same color and design. It’s good in a way—you see most people walking around in the same type of clothing here and you pray there’s not a way for him to track your gait or the whole thing is a bust, but truthfully, what you’re most worried about is the fact that you’ll create a brand new set of footprints wherever your old ones disappear. Unless you trade with someone else, you won’t ever have a back pathing, you know that Din will probably be able to easily spot it.

“Three pairs of these, please,” you point to the correct shoes and tell him your size, but then—“Oh wait, actually, can I actually have one of them that’s the next size up? And another that’s the same but in men's?”

The man behind the counter gives you an odd look but acquiesces, measuring the size of your preferred pair to multiple men’s shoes to find one that looks roughly the same—you doubt he’s ever had a request like this, but you’re also a generous tipper. His smile is grateful when you tell him to keep the change and then you’re stuffing the new shoes into your backpack and moving onward.

Would there be some kind of map here, you wonder? One that shows distance so you won’t waste time trying to reach a place you won’t be able to walk to? That lady said a transport hub and the capital are through this settlement, but she didn’t provide much information beyond that. You don’t want to be in the middle of nowhere when he finally catches up to you, you’ll need some place to hide.

When you stop to ask an elderly gentleman as he passes by, he freely provides you a basic gist. There’s a large forest beyond Osiruu—after it will be a road that passes through a few notable places, with a town called Sijua to the west that leads north to G’ila, and Devain to the east that leads northeast to Nariss. Both are within walking distance, though it may take a couple days to reach your destination.

Alright then. Through the forest, you suppose. You probably should’ve asked which way is east, but he’s already leaving and you don’t have the nerve to ask him to stop again. You have a finger point, that’s all you need. Making sure to use one of the small restrooms near the square before heading out, you eventually decide to make your way towards the direction he said this forest would be.

***

Headstart—6:58pm:

A bus.

You’re not going to take it, of course, but it’s the perfect solution to the problem you’ve been mulling over. It’s at the very edge of the small settlement, and you quickly speed up into a half-jog as soon as you hear its engine running.

“Last call for the seven o’clock!” A large man stationed near the doors yells as you approach. “Last bus to G’ila until tomorrow!”

The sun is setting and you have to extend your hand out in front of you to not be blinded by it. “Hello,” you give him a smile, before grabbing one of the handles on the side and stepping up onto the metal platform.

“Ah!” The man quickly stops you, moving to stand in front of the open doors. He’s as wide as he is tall, big enough that he blocks the entire exit. “That’ll be ten credits, miss.”

“Oh,” you say, patting your empty pockets and pulling your eyebrows inwards, trying not to move too much in case the sizable amount of credits you have stashed in your backpack happen to rattle. “Oh, no. I think I lost my wallet.”

He sighs. “Off the bus then please, miss. Come back tomorrow if you find it.”

You nod, leaning your forearm against the paneling and beginning to take your shoes off. “Will it be parked in the same place exactly?”

The driver looks curiously at you, clearly confused at both the strange question and your strange actions. “I’m sorry? Please—off the bus.”

“One second,” you tell him, now barefoot on the platform and digging into your backpack for the slightly larger sized shoes you bought earlier. The sound of credits clink against your blaster, but you hope he takes your lead in purposefully ignoring them. “Does the bus to G’ila park in this spot every single day?”

“Yes,” the man tells you impatiently, eyeing the way you’re stepping into the new pair with a subtle look of distaste. Everyone is polite here, it seems. “It will arrive back at seven am sharp with passengers from G’ila, in the same exact place. Please get off the bus.”

“Thank you, sir,” you tell him with a smile, watching him step to the side to allow you to drop down into the dirt again and continue on your way.

Brilliant, if you do say so your fucking self. Eliminate the need for a back pathing. All footprints facing this direction are going to be the first footprints, and all of them facing the opposite way are going to be the last; if Din manages to figure out you didn’t take the bus, then he won’t be able to tell which new set are yours and which belong to the other passengers. You pray the helmet can’t track gaits, but while you’re still paying enough attention, you make sure to keep your steps just slightly longer and even try placing more weight on the edges of your feet to make it look like you have a slightly higher arch than you actually do. You’d put a pebble inside of them or something, but you know you’re going to be walking through the night and you don’t want to commit to having your feet hurt more than you already know they’re going to.

Eventually the quaint shops and small houses disappear behind you, and the sun setting over the horizon turns the clouds above turn more dusty green and brown than yellow and pink. You hope Din opened up the ramp after you left. You want him to see the sky.

***

Headstart—9:34pm

The forest here is different from Naboo, too.

Maybe it was because you only saw it while you were in crisis-mode, but that forest seemed much scarier and darker than this one. The vegetation there was thick and overgrowing, but these trees look like they’ve never had leaves on them at all. No twigs or small branches that sprout from the trunks—the branches are all thick and gnarly, criss-crossing with each other with how close they’ve grown together. You bet their roots are practically one at this point, stretching for miles and miles but all sharing the same system.

Because there aren’t any leaves, there's nothing to block the moonlight shining clear and crystalline through the twisting maze of branches. Sanctuary II appears to have a sister moon—Sanctuary I, perhaps?—that’s likely a similar size, because it’s the same one you've seen all day and it’s barely moved a few degrees that you can tell. It must orbit incredibly close and be tidal-locked with this one then. Two massive satellites swinging around each other as they circle a ringed gas giant, but it makes a stunning view and reflects more than enough light to see.

The sky is deep blue and maroon and you’ve been walking in a straight line for hours, using the stationary moon overhead as your guide. The only issue with this plan that you’ve been able to come up with is that there’s no widely traveled path through the trees—even you can see your footprints and the clear trail you’re leaving behind. You’ve been trying for a while to figure out another clever evasion tactic, but it’s harder than it sounds. Can’t just change shoes again, that’ll be a dead giveaway. How do you lose him?

You stop for a second, reaching into your bag to grab some water and stay hydrated. Looking up once more at the beauty of the swirling colors peeking through the branches above you, you find yourself pausing after returning the bottle to your pack. There are… an atrocious number of branches up there, and all of them are long and tangled and thick. Sturdy.

You’ve… never climbed a tree before.

Without thinking much beyond that, you decide to bend your knees and jump, grabbing hold of one of the strong wooden tubes over your head and then swinging your legs up. Ouch—the bark scrapes against your palms and you have to hold on tight with your thighs while you shimmy yourself upwards, but at least the wood is solid as fuck. It takes you a minute or two, but you’re eventually able to shuffle yourself around so you’re straddling the thick branch, and then you look out to see the large collection of them criss-crossing in every direction around you.

Oof, this is dangerous. You know it even before you start. The gaps leading to the ground are bigger and more numerous than your potential pathing forward, but the only thing that gives you reassurance is how thick the wood is—you’re almost certain the branches aren’t going to break as long as you’re careful.

Okay. Shoes, these are too big for the kind of dexterity you’re going to need. You take them off slowly, being extra careful not to drop them, and then exchange them with the better-fitting pair you bought earlier, making a mental note that the sandals and the larger shoes are the two you’ve already worn. If your pursuer manages to catch on to the multiple footprint changes, your most recent ones should ideally just… disappear right there, shouldn’t they?

You grin, before struggling into a low crouch and looking around your wooden cage for a safe way forwards.

***

Headstart—11:37pm:

Water.

A blessing, and not because you’re thirsty. You have clean water in your bag and decades of habits formed in the desert to ensure you’re taking breaks and drinking enough—what you need is a way to disguise your footprints once you get back on the ground again. This was good; scuttling your way along thick and twisting branches for as long as you have was time-consuming and exhausting, but it allowed you to avoid touching the ground for at least a mile or so, which means he’ll have to comb that entire radius to look for your drop.

And it was fun.

You even found yourself giggling as you ducked and scooted, ignoring the bark scraping your skin and your panting breaths, the way your face got sweaty and hot. You had to do some brave maneuvers at tricky spots—jumping, balancing, hugging—but it almost just felt like an exciting little obstacle course for you and you’re honestly having a fucking blast right now.

Water, though. Water is an unexpected beauty, even more than you’ve always considered it to be. Water is an eroder. Not only powerful enough to smooth down the rough edges of strong elements over time, but it will hide your footprints as soon as you create them and leave no indication that you were ever there.

Eventually you see it—a babbling stream cutting a considerably wide line through the trees. You creep forward and hang tight to a branch above you to make sure you won’t fall, wiping the sweat on your brow with your other hand as you study the terrain. The water is… a considerable distance below you, maybe about ten or so feet, and there’s quite a few branches on either side that extend and hang out over it. You could probably find your way to the other side somehow, but something tells you to avoid the road beyond the forest if you can. It leads to multiple places, it would be better to follow the stream until you can eventually merge with it later.

That means you’re… fuck. You’re going to have to jump, aren’t you?

It’s the only way—you can’t leave footprints which means you’re going to need to land in the water. The trees clear too far from the shoreline, so you can’t shimmy down the trunk of one for a shorter fall. You’re going to have to climb out on one of those long branches until you’re suspended over the stream, and then you’re going to have to lower yourself as far as you can and then let go. With your height already accounting for at least half the distance plus the length of your arms as you hang, you should only have to drop two or three feet before reaching water, and then maybe another two feet to the floor under it. It looks forgiving enough—the moonlight shines and the stream is clear and you can mainly just see sand at the bottom, no sharp rocks or other potential dangers to be found. This… this is doable.

Okay. If you pull this off, you’re a badass. If you don’t break any bones or seriously injure yourself in any way, you deserve some kind of commendation. This is probably kiddie shit to Din, who keeps literal rockets strapped to his back and jumps out of ships flying thousands of feet above the ground, but this is a challenge for you and you’re feeling just excited enough to be up to it.

You’re eventually able to climb onto the thickest, sturdiest branch you can see that happens to hang over the water, straddling it and beginning to scoot. Your thighs are killing you at this point but you’re holding deathly tight to the wood, your movements becoming more and more cautious the further away from the trunk you get.

You’re directly above the water now, but you need to go out a little further. Aim for right in the middle so you don’t accidentally leave any tracks or prints on the shoreline if you need to catch yourself. The unfamiliar wood in this forest is admittedly sturdy, but the branch begins to subtly sag with your weight as you keep slowly scooting forward, and you’re just about to the correct spot when—

Day 1–12:00am:

“Sweet girl.”

—You nearly fucking fall.

“Maker,” you gasp, suddenly scrambling to catch yourself on the branch before you can plummet. It creaks and groans under your weight but supports you nonetheless, and when you’re one hundred percent certain it isn’t going to break, you jerk your head down to the communicator and see that it’s midnight, on the dot.

Shit.

Your heart slams against your ribs and your arms shake with adrenaline while you study it for just a moment longer, trying to calm the fuck down.

“Hey,” Din’s voice comes sharply from your wrist, crackling and tinny through the comm, nearly scaring you again. “Answer me.”

You don’t want to sacrifice your grip right now, but you have no doubt he’ll fly the Crest out to you if you don’t respond. So you quickly let go to press a button on the front face and then latch onto the branch tight once more, raising your voice because you can’t risk bringing your wrist up to your mouth to speak. You hope he’ll be able to hear without the microphone picking up the sound of the stream below. “Uh. Ahem. Hello. Yes?”

“You’re too quiet,” Din’s disembodied voice immediately informs you. “Or something on your side is too loud. There’s an earpiece built into the side of the communicator, take it out and use it instead.”

You study the wrist brace without moving, until you finally see what he’s talking about. It’s a small, wireless piece of machinery hidden on the left side of the electronic display, and you quickly pop it out and stuff it into your ear just in time to hear the sound of hydraulics clanging through the speaker as you clutch the branch again. You’d know that sound anywhere, it’s the ramp of the hull closing.

“Are you already on the move?” You ask him incredulously, your thighs starting to go numb with how deathly tight you’ve been squeezing this tree.

“Can’t sleep,” Din murmurs, sounding so much closer and deeper than before. Does he have his earpiece on under the helmet or something? Stars, is that why his voice sounds that good? It’s like it’s coming from inside your own head, bassy and rough. “Ready or not.”

You huff, your tummy going warm. Of course he can’t sleep, of course he’s going to look for you as soon as he’s allowed to. If he waited until morning, you’d probably be slightly offended. You try to slow your heart rate into something acceptable, but being this far above water and hearing his baritone murmur directly in your ear make it difficult. “But I’m… sleepy.”

“You’re always sleepy,” he tells you, and though you can’t actually hear him walking, the sound of his footsteps shake through his voice just slightly as he speaks.

“Hang on,” you huff, ducking your head to drag it against your shoulder, keeping the sweat from your eyes without using your hands, “you’re gonna make me stay up all night just because you do? This isn’t fair—”

“Fair wasn’t part of the rules.”

Well. Fair.

Stars, you can’t stay here. You don’t know how long he wants to check-in for, but you’re also not confident with this branch’s ability to hold you for an extended time when you’re this far out from the trunk. You need to get in that stream one way or another, but now that he’s here, you have an extra problem. Din is going to hear you no matter what.

“Um. Can you give me a second?” You ask him, glancing around to make sure there’s no better way of doing this. Nope, you realize very quickly—this is the best idea you’ve got, and you don’t really know what that says about the quality of all your other ideas.

“What?” Din grunts shortly, but you just clear your throat.

“I need to… mute myself. Give me like… five minutes.”

“What are you talking abou—”

“You of all people cannot be upset about asking for five minutes of quiet,” you return testily, looking down at the distance to the stream once more. That’s a long way. You… you can’t swim obviously, but again, the water doesn’t look too deep. Just a couple feet likely, shouldn’t go past your knees.

It’s fitting that he doesn’t say anything, which you eventually take as disgruntled acceptance, so you quickly press the proper button on your wrist to silence the mic and then take a few deep breaths. You have a time limit now, you have to do this.

With incredible patience and precision, you eventually slide until you’re clutching the branch upside down like an only slightly quicker and less coordinated sloth, before slowly dropping your legs and hanging over the water.

It’s… admittedly a bit further down than you anticipated, or maybe that’s just you making things worse than they actually are, but you’re committed at this point and there’s no going back.

You close your eyes, count to three, and then you let go.

The sandy floor meets your feet with considerable force and you make a hell of a splash doing it, nearly falling but just barely managing to keep yourself balanced and upright at the last second. The water is cool and comes up just over your knees, your backpack miraculously didn’t get wet and all your limbs remain shaky but unbroken.

Okay. Okay, fucking success. It feels… thrilling, accomplishing a dangerous feat, and you quickly let out a loud whoop before clearing your throat, trying to sound normal as you press a button on the communicator’s face once more.

“Mando?” You ask, slightly out of breath. “Sorry about that, I’m back.”

Okay, now which way do you go? Downstream seems like the easier path after getting in so much unexpected exercise, so that’s the one you go with. As soon as you lift your foot from the sand bed, you watch your footprint almost immediately disappear through the moonlit water, and you bite your lip at just how well everything turned out for you.

After a moment though, you realize he hasn’t answered you. You look down at the communicator again to make sure you pressed the right thing. “Hello? Shiny?”

“Did you trade shoes with someone?” Din’s voice suddenly comes through the earpiece, sounding absolutely incredulous.

“Shit,” you tell him, trying not to smile. “Hoped that was gonna buy me more time.”

“It… might’ve, if you kept walking in the same direction as they were,” he informs you after a moment. “Your shoes went south, but this other pair got all the way out here just to turn back around again? Good idea, but the execution needs work.”

Maker, he’s smart. It was the first attempt at a footprint change so you weren’t thinking much beyond tricking the tracking mechanism in his helmet, you ignored his logic completely. Essentially, the exact opposite of what he told you to do. You like to think you’re getting better at it by this point, thinking beyond just the original exchange, and you’re hoping you’ll be able to trick him with at least one of the other fifty times you changed shoes today. You’ll have to see tomorrow night, if you can make it that long.

Also, the road you were on apparently goes north-south, that’s important information you make sure to take note of. The man in Osiruu said Devain and Nariss are to the east, and that Sijua and G’ila are westward, right? Remembering that you thought south was west earlier, you do some quick calculating and immediately come to a stop in the moving water as soon as you figure out your positioning, turning around and walking upstream instead.

You want to go to Nariss. The capital, and the biggest city in walking distance. Smart quarry go to populated places, places that make it nearly impossible to find people.

“Alright. Mando: one, Me: zero,” you finally acknowledge, swinging your backpack around and unzipping it to dig inside for another piece of fruit. You’ve been hungry for hours but had to use both hands to stay safe and far above the ground, it’s the perfect time to eat. “How’s the baby? Behaving himself?”

“He kept trying to follow you after you left,” comes Din’s response, and you stop with just your teeth piercing the flesh, wondering if you heard him right. You actually open your jaw and pull the fruit away with just a bite mark in it.

“You’re joking.” No fucking way, not that little demon.

“Wish I was,” he tells you solemnly. “Made a fuss, tried to open the ramp a few times. Didn’t cause any trouble after, just… pouted.”

That’s… that’s exactly how he responded the very first time Din left the kid on the ship with you instead of bringing him along. He threw a fit, tried to ditch you for his dad multiple times, and then ultimately just looked cute and mopey with his limp ears until Din came back. Do you think it’s just him rebelling against change? That has to be it, right?

“He better not be giving you any hints about where I am,” you warn his father. “I’d tell you to put him on but I don’t want the earpiece getting lost forever.”

You hear it. The softest laugh—barely a breath, coming after years of learning to make it just quiet enough not to be registered by the helmet. It gets picked up by the communicator in all its understated beauty when normally it’d be silent, and it’s just jarring enough to make you careless.

On your next step, you accidentally lift your foot too high and make a splash, and you already know you fucked up before he can say a single word.

“What’s that sound?”

You immediately stop moving, allowing the cool water to move as silently as possible past your stationary knees. Shit. “Uh. What sound?”

You think he purposefully doesn’t say anything. Probably because it feels a little like cheating, doesn’t it? It’s to your disadvantage, having him be able to catch hints from your environment when he’s the one who made check-ins mandatory, but then again… how smart do you think he is? Something tells you that he might not need to track you at all—what are the chances he stumbles upon this little stream and just naturally assumes you were clever enough to use it to hide your trail? Did you waste time trying to engineer a vanishing act when it’s not going to matter regardless?

Oh well, too late now. You quickly decide to change the subject.

“You should try the big purple fruit that one vendor sells when you get into Osiruu, by the way,” you tell him pleasantly, taking a big chomp out of it and then letting out an extended hum of delight that only really fucking good food or sex causes a person to make. “I’m eating one right now, it’s so good. Be the best thing you’ve ever tasted.”

“Mm. Doubt it,” immediately comes his low response. Fucking immediately.

“Mando,” you gasp, scandalized and giddy enough that juice dribbles down your chin a bit.

“Are you having fun?” Din asks, instead of pushing the conversation any further in that direction. You don’t know if you’re thankful or disappointed with how quickly he decided to abort, but you take a moment to consider his question while swallowing and wiping your mouth. Not the answer, you know the answer—but why he bothered to ask. Did he know you were going to enjoy yourself as much as you have? Your only possible lament is how you’re talking to him through a communicator instead of having him next to you.

“I am,” you say warmly. “Be… be better if you were here, though.”

“Give me your coordinates,” Din proposes, and his voice is just low and rumbly enough to make you pause.

You’re really, really proud of yourself for only considering it for a few seconds before scoffing. “Psh. Nice try.”

“Was worth a shot,” he sighs through the earpiece, and you smile, taking another bite of fruit.

“Ask me again tomorrow,” you offer, grinning at the implication.

“We’ll see,” you hear him return, and though his tone doesn’t really change, you know he’s probably rolling his eyes. He won’t have to ask for your coordinates because he’ll already be there, but it’s nice to pretend for a while longer.

And then you both walk all through the night, sharing casual banter with each other for hours. He never once implies he wants to disconnect, even when you hit him with more nonsensical questions—

“What’s your favorite food?” (“I don’t have one.”)

“Okay, well what about just a food that you like?” (“I don’t like food that much.”)

“What do you mean? Everyone loves food.” (“Not me.”)

“Alright, well um. What’s your favorite color, then?” (“I don’t have one, either.”)

“Come on, you must have some kind of color you like.” (“What’s your favorite color?”)

“…Brown.” (“Then that’s my favorite, too.”)

—until the sun rises and you both say your goodbyes.

***

Day 1–6:15am:

You resolve to waiting until you see another person to allow your feet to touch dry land, figuring the longer you stay untraceable, the better off you’ll be. Your toes are wrinkly and your pantlegs and shoes have been drenched for hours, but then you finally spot a few fishermen standing upstream with their backs to you, speaking to each other in the dawning light. Two look to be full-grown, but there’s a smaller one in the middle, maybe a teenage boy, and you pause for a second, looking at the riverbank next to them. All their valuables—water, food, bait, extra rods, but also… their shoes.

Quietly, you reach into your backpack and remove the pair of men’s shoes you bought earlier. The ones closest to you on the shore seem to be the smallest, so you sneak over as silent as possible and rapidly make an exchange, fitting the new ones on your wet feet before allowing yourself to touch dry land and then speed walking away.

The ones you left him are newer and roughly the same size anyways—yikes, maybe slightly smaller now that you’re thinking about it—but at least you have a back pathing. If that kid decides to take your offering and the shoes fit, Din will follow him, and if he decides to go barefoot instead, he should still follow him, right? You’re not really aiming to trick him outright, mostly you just want him to waste more and more time. This likely wouldn’t work if there wasn’t a time limit attached to this hunt, but you’re going to do everything you can to disappear while he’s still far enough behind you.

***

Day 1–7:06am:

You get to Devain remarkably quickly after finding the correct road. The pit stop is much bigger than Osiruu, big enough to call an actual town instead of just a settlement, but still not large enough to feel concealed. You want a city. This place at least has cars and ships moving about and overhead respectively, but you’re looking for somewhere with lines. Somewhere that feels as cramped and busy as possible.

Still, you find a restroom to use and then decide to grab some more food for your trip, happily spotting your new favorite purple fruit in one of the shop windows. As you’re reaching out to hand the storekeeper the appropriate amount of credits, Din’s gruff voice comes through the earpiece so suddenly that you jump, nearly dropping them all on the counter. “Hey.”

“Holy shit, what?” You gasp, earning a confused look from the lady in front of you. You quickly shake your head at her and mouth an apology while Din grumbles in vexation.

“You were supposed to stay on foot.”

Ah. So he got to the bus, then. Okay.

“Oh,” you answer ambiguously, exchanging the money for your bag of food and giving her a polite smile. Din stays completely mute while you grab your snack, stuffing the rest of the goods in your backpack and then turning to leave—mute for so long that you have to double check you didn’t accidentally do it yourself.

“…Smart girl,” you finally hear him say. Quietly muttered under his breath, half proud of you and half frustrated for making his job more difficult. “Which one of these is yours then?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you announce, before taking a large bite as you leave the establishment and talking with your mouth full. “You really gotta try the purple fruit, it’s great.”

The communicator abruptly clicks to silence on his end without anything else and you laugh so unexpectedly that a few pieces of it fly out of your mouth.

***

Day 1–1:32pm:

Somewhere miles away from you, Din jerks to a halt in the middle of a forest.

He looks around the dirt floor, walks a few paces and hears the kid coo gently from his cradle. Behind the visor, the red footprints he’s circling are the last ones around for hundreds of meters, as far as his display can read.

His helmet slowly tilts upwards, and follows the endless maze of thick branches overhead.

With the beskar hiding his face, no one can see the way he slowly breaks into a beautiful grin.

***

Day 1–9:51pm:

Oh. Oh stars, you’re tired.

You’ve been walking all day without really seeing anything, not having any place to disguise your tracks in the wide open plains. You could’ve stuck to the road, but you started to feel the exhaustion creep in during the early afternoon and you wanted to be far away from other travelers and potential danger if you needed to rest. You knew this would be a long journey when you left Devain earlier—over a day’s walk, a group of children told you—you even tried skipping or jogging a bit to see if that would inspire more energy in you, but it didn’t help much.

The large cup of caf you bought while in town was drained hours ago and it didn’t help much either, probably because your exhaustion is more physical and not necessarily mental. It just felt like a sweet warm drink to sip before you go to sleep, that’s how much the caf helped. Still, you kept walking, kept moving forward even as you squinted in the setting sun, your feet aching from traveling for this long wearing unfamiliar shoes. The last time you changed them was hours ago, pulling another bus maneuver but with an air shuttle instead. Still, you don’t think it’ll be enough. You don’t even know where Din is but you already feel like you’re losing ground just knowing that he’s the one in pursuit.

You feel it—the hair standing up on your neck, the tingles in your hands, the stirring of your tummy—whatever the incessant gogogo that your instincts happen to scream when you’re in first place but you know the person behind you is quickly closing in. It’s day fucking one, it’s day one and you feel him in the wind as it brushes through your hair, you can’t even pause to rest because nobody knows better than you that he’s an absolute fucking machine when he wants to be. The kid may have powers beyond that which can be explained by the laws of nature, but Din is a force all his own. He drives you forward when everything inside you is telling you to stop. He keeps you awake and determined when you just desperately need to rest.

But that only goes so far. You’re bordering on two full days without sleep, and though you’d normally be able to suffer through, the constant movement is just brutal after being confined to a stationary ship for so long.

There’s a lone tree in the distance, you think. It’s hard to see. Not because it’s dark—well it is, just a bit darker tonight compared to last, but mostly because your eyelids have grown heavier and more burdensome than the bag around your shoulders. That looks like a good place to just sit for a second, right? Maybe eat some more food, try and wake yourself up? Yeah, that’s a good idea, you’ll head towards the tree and just… sit…

***

Day 2–12:00am:

Completely dead to the galaxy and sitting on your ass with your back against rough bark, the comm clicks and Din’s voice comes through the earpiece.

“Wake up.”

It startles you enough to make you lurch forward and jerk your head around in a panic, looking for any flash of beskar so you can instantly break opposite to it. You scramble on all fours to look around but you don’t see anything, not even behind the trunk when you crawl, and then you take a deep breath and use the bone of your wrists to rub your eyes vigorously after a moment, knowing your hands are filthy. “Fuck, how’d you—”

“You’re always sleepy,” Din repeats, and you collapse back into the tree with an exhausted groan, not entertained but not even having the energy to get mad about it.

“I… I gotta sleep,” you tell him, already feeling your body let go of its tension and search for the darkness of unconsciousness once more. “Shit. How d’you… mm. Stay awake all the time…”

“Sleep,” Din encourages, you can still hear him walking. “You need rest. I’ll see you soon.”

No—

“No,” you whine like a child, moaning and shoving yourself upright. Maker, you’re trying to focus, but asking that of yourself is almost impossible right now. Everything swims—you were dreaming, you think, but you can’t remember and it’s not important other than to emphasize how woozy you are. Things still feel like a dream, somehow.

You think he can hear your struggling through the comm, because the sound of his footsteps pause. “Go to sleep.”

“You go to sleep,” you tell him bluntly, giving your head a violent shake to try and wake you up. You want to slap your own cheek but you don’t want him to hear it. “I can’t sleep if you don’t.”

“I’ve have at least a couple more days in me before that happens,” Din murmurs, and you bet he knows exactly what the fuck he’s doing to you. You start to slouch, hearing the voice he uses when he’s curled around your body in the darkness of the hull. So warm, so gentle. If you use your imagination, you can feel his fingers drawing slow circles on your back, the vibration of his low voice rumbling against your ear as you lay your head on his chest. “If I hunt you the way I’d hunt a quarry, I’m going to find you before you wake up.”

“Then I’ll jus’ have to… not let tha’ happen,” you slur. Even this close to unconsciousness, you try your best to throw in a misdirect. “Already… paid for the bed an’ everything.”

“Sure you did. You in another tree?”

You immediately frown even as your eyes drop closed, too tired to fight but still managing to sound upset. “You makin’ fun of me?” You ask him with a harumph. Genuinely, you’re not smart enough to figure it out right now.

“Not hardly,” Din sighs, sounding… you don’t know. Is that displeasure or not? It’s not immediately clear. Does it sound that way because you’re just dumb stupid right now? Or because Din can’t actually decide how he feels about it? “Lucky I heard water over the comm last night, I would’ve wasted hours in that forest.”

“Noooo,” you whine in response, trying to push yourself off the tree but tipping sideways in the process, “that’s not fair—”

“Fair wasn’t part of the rules,” he repeats himself again and… nope, you don’t even have the energy to snark something back. You just grumble your best imitation of him while you do everything you can to heave yourself upright. It’s pitiful, you lose your balance not even halfway through and just plop on the grass for a second and groan.

“Stop,” Din eventually orders through the earpiece, tired of it. “What’s sixteen times itself?”

You’re loopy to the point where you don’t even question why he decided to ask you that. You just furrow your brows for a second and try to think about it, before suddenly realizing you… don’t know, you can’t remember. Multiplication tables and squares up to twenty are elementary to you, you know them by heart. Sixteen times sixteen. One forty-four. No… no that doesn’t sound right, is that twelv—

You take way too long answering what would’ve been an immediate response two days ago.

“I’ll stop here for tonight,” Din tells you with a resolved sigh. “I won’t move until you wake up. Go to sleep. You’re putting yourself in danger, you can’t even do the basics.”

Later, this moment will come back to you. That problem isn’t basic, not many adults would be able to tell you very quickly that the answer is two fifty-six. You don’t even think Din would. You would, though. On Naboo, you used rapidly applied trigonometry in your head to find his location, and that was barely two minutes after waking up. You should know this. And he knows you.

But for right now, you don’t pay it a single lick of attention.

“You promise?” You ask quietly, voice incredibly small as your head tilts back towards the sky, already feeling yourself beginning to fall back into the darkness again.

“I promise,” he vows in return, gentle but a promise nonetheless. He doesn’t have to do this. You wouldn’t be able to keep going even if he didn’t offer up this temporary truce, but knowing he isn’t currently gaining ground on you makes the idea of sleep so much more welcoming, something you want to seek out instead of fight.

“Will you, um…” your expression furrows. How do you say this? You sigh, giving up before even trying to figure it out. “I’m… not in a bed. I’m outside.”

Din doesn’t say anything when you pause, and even through the haze wanting to take over, you know it’s going to sound needy. You want him to stay. Even in the midst of an adventure, you want him to stay, you want to hear him breathe as you rest, but there’s not really an integrous way to ask.

You don’t need to ask.

“I’ll keep the comm open and wake you when the sun rises,” comes his lulling baritone before you can elaborate anymore, enveloping you in comfort in this dreadfully uncomfortable bed of grass and dirt. “Sleep, sweet girl. I’m right here.”

***

Day 2–5:34am:

The sun shines over the hills and you lift your head up to squint your eyes at it, confused as fuck. Looking down at your wrist to check the time in the warm rays, hands and clothes dirty from laying on the ground that long—you stay groggy and clueless for just a moment longer, before your heart lurches when you remember Din’s promise to you.

You open your mouth to address him but then catch yourself just in time. Wait. Don’t panic. Listen.

Breathing. Slow and relaxed through the earpiece, a rhythm now branded into your memory from months of nights spent in pitch black. He’s… asleep.

Din is asleep? Seriously?

You can count like… twice that this has happened, and one of those was because he got you to touch him just right after closing up a wound on his back, and his body couldn’t handle the strain and passed out. You’re never awake when he’s asleep—you’re just not, it doesn’t happen. Din… sleeps like it’s just a choice for him, he doesn’t ever really need it. Almost like how he used to eat before he started sharing meals with you, he said he doesn’t even like food that much. You think he just severed all of those things long ago, things that are basic fundamentals of survival and operated like a bounty droid that lost its voice box. It’s… nice, feeling like you’re somehow giving back some of the things he lost. Unintentionally encouraging him to find sleep again. Making sure he eats more, listening to him speak.

You struggle to your feet as quietly as possible, hearing him continue to breathe slow and relaxed through the communicator. This isn’t purposeful, you don’t think he actually allowed it. He promised you, and Din doesn’t take shit back. If he tells you he’ll do something and he doesn’t follow through, it’s either out of his control or a mistake, it’s never been purposeful. He didn’t mean to fall asleep.

And, in other circumstances, you most definitely would not find some way to take advantage of this. You’d let him sleep and do other things in the meantime—make some food for you and the kid, find something on the Crest that isn’t spotless and clean until it is, or just… lay there next to him until he woke up. But… these circumstances are their own. You have to capitalize now, this is your chance. You passed out last night around… ten pm, you think it was, and then he promised to stop at midnight. That means you have to walk at least two hours before he wakes up if you want to prevent any loss of ground—you don’t know where he stopped, he could be a few miles back even.

You have to find Nariss—you have to. It’s your only option, if you keep trying to run, it’s just going to make it so much easier for him. Now is the time to hide. You know it hasn’t been long, it’s barely been two days since you first left the Crest but it feels like you’re already in endgame, already making moves in self-defense instead of actually planning your maneuvers ahead of time.

The capital should be half a day’s walk from here, then. As long as you get there, you think you’ll be okay.

***

Day 2–8:28am:

Din’s groan suddenly comes through your ear.

You immediately stop, seeing a busy road in the distance and glad you haven’t quite made it there yet, before trying to disguise your voice as drowsy. “Mm?”

“Shit,” he breathes, and you hear him get up, the sound of beskar moving as he grunts.

“Mpph,” you groan back, squinting your eyes to see if that’ll help sell the act. “I thought you… Mando, fuck, y’said you’d wake me when the sun came up.”

“I… fell asleep,” he admits, voice rough with it, sounding just as confused as you felt earlier.

“You said you had days in you before that happened,” you murmur, taking a deep breath and stretching your arms up above your head. Stars, your back hurts, how does he possibly manage to carry a fucking jet pack around all the time?

“Yeah, I…” He pauses for a moment and you bite your lip, not liking the quiet as soon as you hear it. “How long have you been up?”

Op. Not good. “Wha?”

He’s not falling for it. “How long?”

How in Maker’s name? This is impossible. How can you hope to hide from him when you can’t even manage to hide the smallest fucking truth from him? Can you salvage this somehow? “…Like ten minutes.”

“Least a few hours, then,” he sighs, and you get ready to hit him with the same line he used when you complained about his leg-up, opening your mouth as soon as you hear him speak. “That was smar—”

“Fair wasn’t part of—”

Oh. Well. Apparently you didn’t have a reason to feel shitty about deciding to haul ass while he was passed out even though you kind of ended up doing so anyways. There was no agreement besides that he wouldn’t move until you woke up. Reason is on your side, but it still feels a bit like you fucked him over. Is that valid or are you just so used to being nice that putting yourself first feels like a wrong you’ve committed?

“Don’t feel bad,” Din tells you, and you hear a soft coo in the background. It makes you smile the smallest bit, your shoulders relaxing even as they ache from carrying your pack around. “You should feel bad about stealing that poor kid’s shoes, though. He walked home barefoot.”

You smack your forehead. “It was just….”

“Yeah,” he scoffs when you don’t finish your sentence, and you can’t keep back a giggle. “Alright, I’m up now. See you when you get here.”

And then the communicator clicks, and you’re…

Uh. What the fuck was that?

No. Nope, you’re not going to get played. That was a brilliant attempt at fucking with you, but you’re not falling for it this time. You’ve grown since that night on Canto Bight, you know him, he can’t just say shit to fuck with your head and then smile at your flailing response from under the helmet anymore. You normally would stew in that last comment until it got to you, made you make a mistake most likely, but the more you think about it, the more certain you are that he has nothing. He was just trying to see if you’ll abandon your entire plan just by implying he already knows it. That’s beginner shit, you’re not falling for it. Din wanted to leave the conversation with the upper-hand since you gained at least an hour of extra ground while he slept. You’re certain of it.

***

Day 2–12:35pm:

Nariss is big. Nowhere near the size of Coruscanti sectors of course, where billions of people are packed from surface to exosphere and require oxygen recirculation towers to breathe at the very top, but just slightly bigger than you expected. It’s bustling and you haven’t even made it through the city gates yet—you’re approaching them and the large number of people waiting in line, seeing buildings stretch out for miles in front of you and grinning. Yes, this will work nicely.

As you peek over shoulders in the sizable crowd, you see only two or three people allowing people to enter one at a time… is that a biometric scanner?

Oh. That looks good and it also doesn’t look good at the same time. If Din’s safety meant nothing to you, you’d have no trouble whatsoever getting in line and waiting to do a retinal scan, but you immediately pause and consider the potential consequences.

Your dumb ass almost weighs the option of clicking the communicator on and asking his opinion. You’d give away your location in a heartbeat (if he doesn’t know it already) just because you’re worried he’d… what, exactly? Stand in line for an hour, take his helmet off in front of a crowd of people, have the system ping his scan, and then hang out and wait for New Republic reinforcements to show? You have to stop worrying about him. He’s not a baby, he can handle himself and you need to stop considering the possibility of taking a loss just so he doesn’t have to, even if the self-destructive sentiment feels ingrained in your nature to do so.

So you wait in line, moving at a slow pace but at least moving. While you’re standing there quietly, a man in front of you decides to strike up a conversation. You don’t come from a place with an excess of people, but the ones in your sector were friendly and did this kind of thing often, so perhaps for that reason, you decide to chat.

“Do you have some place to stay?” He asks at one point. So far the conversation has revolved around him—every time he asks about you, you deflect. He doesn’t need to know. “Nariss isn’t kind to drifters.”

This catches your attention, though. This is relevant. “What does that mean?”

“It’s expensive?” He scratches his blonde hair, giving you a soft smile. “Food, housing, all of it is way out of my price-range. I stay with my uncle and work overnights at the eastern docks. It’s not much, but it’s enough to keep a roof over our heads. We used to live in Gibrath, but then we moved to the city because he’s a good architect and they’re always expanding. It’s nice, of course, but really expensive.”

He’s handsome, you think… in kind of a boyish, charming way. Blonde hair, sparkly blue eyes. He doesn’t look much older than you, and maybe in another lifetime you would’ve found him appealing, but… you like darker features, you think. Someone a little less expressive. This guy… talks a lot.

“I thought this moon was a safe world for people displaced by the Empire,” you offer, taking a step forward as the entire crowd shifts.

“Sanctuary II is,” he comments. “The capital is safe, too—what, with all the orangies walking around,” he tilts his head to two jumpsuited guards trying to organize the glob of people so the line can move faster, rolling his eyes as if they’re some kind of joke. “But not… welcoming, not if you’re looking for a place to settle. You would’ve been better off in G’ila.”

“Is there anywhere you know that would take me for free?” You ask. You have quite a few credits left, but you don’t think it’s a good idea to stay in an inn. It’ll be the first place Din checks.

“Are you a virgin?” He returns, and you immediately pull back at the unexpected question, your heart thudding at the possibility of danger. The man’s sandy eyebrows shoot up at your response and he quickly apologizes—“Heavens, I’m so sorry to ask like that! It’s just… the only place I know is the Holy Keja Orphanage on the northern outskirts. Their signs say they only house children and teenagers, but I’ve heard from other girls your age that they’ll accept any woman as long as they’ve stayed pure in the eyes of the Maker.”

“Oh,” you say after a moment, leaning sideways to see just a few people standing in front of him. Good, this is almost over. “Um. Yep. That’s me.”

He smiles at you once more, giving you a nod. “When you get to the city, just go straight through. It’s about a mile outside of the gates, no more than a day’s walk from this side of town.”

Okay, that’s… interesting. You think about it while you thank him and begin to exchange polite goodbyes, moving up another step until he’s next in line. That might actually be a good move. Din could spend a long time in the city without ever finding you. Smart quarry go to populated places, but… smarter quarry defy the expectations placed upon them, right? He knows you’re smart, and even though you’re confident his “See you when you get here” was purely psychological fuckery, that also implies… at the very least, that he’s assuming there is a here to get to. Meaning, he knows you’re not going into the wilderness to evade him. He’s not going to comb the outskirts when there are so many places to hide within the city gates, with an entire perimeter of New Republic guards stationed around it. Even if he does, the signs will say only children and teenagers—categories you do not fall into.

The unnamed man is soon ushered forward but you stop him quickly. “Oh, by the way. I doubt this will happen, but if a man in a big metal suit with a tiny green baby happen to ask you the same thing, please don’t tell him what you just told me.”

He furrows his eyebrows at you and cocks his head, but smiles and agrees nonetheless.

***

Day 2–5:43pm:

You have an idea.

You’ve been working on it all afternoon, but you were hit with it the second you were looking for another pair of shoes to buy and find a clever way of putting on.

The cheapest ones were ridiculously overpriced, blonde dude was right. You blinked down at the tag and asked the salesman where the cheapest shoes in this part of town were, and then he just wrinkled his nose at you and shooed you out of the store. Granted, you slept in dirt and spent two days walking—you bet you reek, but he didn’t have to be like that.

Though, the man’s displeasure with you had an upside. You were holding a possible pair of pants and a shirt to buy when he threw you out, not yet having checked the atrocious pricetag on them, but it appeared as if he’d rather let you have them for free than rip them from your… admittedly, pretty filthy arms. Oh well, you weren’t complaining. Fancy clothes for free, score.

But now you’re here, and you have the best idea. You don’t need to change shoes, not yet. Why? Because you’ve figured out how to turn your incessant detriment into an advantage.

You’re in the middle of downtown, you think, maybe just some random crowded square, and there’s an inn in front of you. It’s fucking enormous, and you already know it’s gotta be incredibly expensive just looking at the sheer number of stories. It’s an eyesore, it sticks out. But that’s okay, because you’re only planning on staying for a night.

It’s also… right next to New Republic headquarters. Or fuck, at least a station of some sort, because they’re swarming in and out of the constant crowd, passing by the valet doors.

At first you naturally wanted to steer away from the jumpsuits, since you know they’re bad news for Din, but then you remember what he said before you left. I’m only telling you so that you’ll know your advantage and find a way to exploit it. I can’t be seen by any officers, or they might arrest me.

It’s to your advantage, he said so himself. Everything lines up perfectly—the street is bustling, the inn is well protected, it’s nice—it’s everything you’re looking for.

And there’s another upside, see. An omnipresent, omniscient ghost in the form of a communicator clipped to your wrist right now. If Din is always going to be able to predict you, he’s always going to know when you’re lying, always be able to read you… then you’ll just have to let him.

Let him know. Let him know exactly where you are. Right in the middle of the most populated street you’ve seen thus far, a constant barrage of people walking by and New Republic officers patrolling. If you were planning on staying in the city, this would probably be your best option to hide. He could waste days here if you’re smart about it.

The concierge doesn’t appear too pleased with your lack of cleanliness and neither do you, honestly, but at least he allows you to book a suite for the night. It’s… not as bad as you were originally assuming, credits-wise, but it’s worth more than half your stash and you’re going to have to conserve from this point on. It shouldn’t be too bad—your destination is a holy orphanage, you’re sure they’ll have some extra food and a bed for you even if it won’t be ideal. Still, you think you’re going to enjoy some lavish experiences for once in your life before you go.

***

Day 2–11:54pm:

Alright, so this was the best idea ever. This is the shit.

You’re leaning back against a fluffy stack of pillows, squeaky clean from an absolutely glorious bath and watching the flickering drama on the large holonet display in front of you. You don’t have any idea what’s going on, as it’s being broadcast in Rodian, but you haven’t been able to change the frequency because it’s so fucking intense—somebody’s sister is their mother, you think? No, that must be a mistranslation, right?

You’re also in a robe. Yes, there is a motherfucking robe in here. And… and slippers, it’s like a dream. Do people normally wear slippers in bed? You do. Hell, maybe you should stay here, screw the credits and the chase. This mattress is even better than the one on Naboo and you’re basking in the luxury after being outdoors for so long.

The lights are off other than that and you’ve opened the drapes wide, knowing you’re on something like the fifteenth floor and nobody would be able to see you anyways. You just like being able to turn your head and look out at the sky. Violent and periwinkle tonight. You wonder if he’s looking, too.

Luckily, you snap yourself back out of it and glance down at the time on your communicator, quickly pressing a button on the remote to mute the Rodian show and then opening the line the moment the hour changes.

Day 3–12:00am:

“Hiya, Shiny,” you say before anything else, laying back and running a few fingers through your damp hair. Your eyes close against the flickering light, taking a slow, relaxed breath. Maker, this feels nice.

“You sound happy,” Din comments. Astute, you feel happy. Well… you’d obviously feel happier if he was here. Your eyes flick over to the open bathroom door, still steamy from your bubble bath earlier, imagining him walking through it completely naked and then climbing over you on the covers. You can only really picture it from the neck down—no, hang on… you can see his shaggy brown curls, that one spot on his forehead you know, how his facial hair would be dark and frame his mouth. No face, though. Missing just one fraction of him from your imagination, feeling incomplete but also somehow… complete in a way.

“I feel better after sleeping last night,” you tell him, purposefully leaving out the softness of the sheets underneath you, the sheer comfort of all this extravagance. You don’t need it, you’ll never need it, but it feels nice to have for once.

“I do, too,” he replies quietly, and your eyes flutter closed. You… miss him. This mattress would feel softer with him next to you. He’d probably be able to translate this show for you, even though you already know he’d fucking hate it. You can imagine it—you with your eyes closed, him propped up on an elbow next to you and grumbling vague descriptions of the nonsense happening on screen just to hear your chuckles. Adventures are great, but maybe they aren’t as great by yourself, you think.

“You should sleep tonight, too,” you encourage, but he scoffs.

“Not a chance,” Din mutters. “Oh, before I forget, we need to charge the communicators today.”

“How am I supposed to do that?” You ask him, glancing at all the multiple wireless charging outlets stationed around you. “I’m in the middle of nowhere.”

He doesn’t even take a fucking second before responding. “Good one.”

You grin up at the ceiling, warmth flooding you. You love him. Literally every single time, he just knows. Your curiosity is too overwhelming after this happening so often. Your plan to distract him relies on him being able to read you, but that doesn’t prevent you from wondering how he does it so accurately, time and time again. “How do you know?”

“You slept outside last night,” he immediately tells you, like that should mean anything to you.

Does he… does he truly know you well enough to know how much your back and shoulders hurt today? How much you were aching for a shower and clean clothes? A bed to sleep on that isn’t dirt or metal? You give into the accurate prediction with shameless honesty, not caring if he knows it’s the truth.

“This bed is soft,” you murmur gently, dragging your hand across the mattress next to you. “You should be here. I’d make you feel good.”

Admittedly, your comfort is making you a bit drowsy and you said it in the easiest way possible, but you didn’t necessarily mean it sexually. Well… you sort of did—you’d make him feel so good in this bed—but what you meant was more… comforting. He could take a bath, or a shower, and get all the grime off him. He could feel clean and unburdened, take a break instead of constantly moving around. The baby could have a whole bed to himself if he wanted, though you know he’d probably want to be on this one instead. You could all look at the sky together.

Din is quiet for a little bit, before his voice comes back through the earpiece. “Are you in an inn?”

“No,” you say, a little too quickly. Perfect, that sounded just right for a lie. You are lying, you absolutely are in an inn, the only difference is that you want him to catch on that it’s a lie, so… why does he take way too long before responding?

“Hm.”

What the fuck—why… how is it even physically possible? He read you that deeply from one single word? You’re not sure if he’s somehow psychic and figured the whole fucking thing out or if he just knows there’s something off, but it’s still enough to blow you away.

“Are you doing this on purpose?” You blurt without thinking.

“Doing what?” He grunts, sounding like he’s stepping over something, his breath changing intensity as he walks.

“If I look out this window right now, am I gonna see you standing out there just messing with me?” You don’t even know what to believe anymore. How do you beat this? If you don’t want him to know the truth, he’ll figure it out, and if you do want him to know the truth, he’ll still figure it out. His perception is unbelievable.

After a moment of silence, he murmurs gently through the comm. “I thought you said you were in the middle of nowhere.” It sounds like he’s smiling.

“I…” your eyes shift around awkwardly, “am…”

Din lets out a deep sigh. He’s right, that was bad, even for you. “I found your bed a few hours ago,” he admits. You close your eyes as you listen to him make his way closer to you, step by step. “I’m nowhere near the city yet. You have time to sleep.”

Your expression furrows and you frown. “Why are you helping me?”

“Why do you want me to think you’re in an inn?” He tosses back, and you huff.

“Because I’m trying to outsmart you but you make it really fucking difficult,” you grumble, not happy about him catching on so quick.

“You’ve also gained about four hours on me since we started.” His voice is gruff. You don’t know if he thinks it’s a good thing or a bad thing. “You should give yourself more credit. I thought I would’ve found you by now, never expected you to get all the way to Nariss. It’s… not good for me.”

The honesty creeping in makes you go soft. It makes you want to reciprocate, even if it’s dumb and you haven’t thought it all the way through. “Wanna know a secret?”

“Tell me.” His voice is a bed all its own, deep and gentle and safe.

You say it before you lose the nerve. “I might just turn around and walk back.”

His footsteps stop and you hear a small sound in the background, a quiet little baby noise that suddenly makes your heart ache. You’re comfortable but incredibly aware of how alone you are. People pass by on the streets below, cars and hoverbikes honk in the distance and you’re by yourself. For the first time in over a year, like you have been for years, you’re by yourself.

“Sweet girl,” Din sighs, and all of a sudden… you can feel his arms around you with it. You feel so… known, somehow. Every sentiment you could’ve possibly given in your last sentence, he relays his understanding back with his. He makes you feel loved with it. “Never wants to run.”

You don’t say anything, because you suddenly realize you’re totally fucking whipped, up down and sideways for his metal ass and the little floating grimlin that follows him around, and you would throw away the fifth quarry, adventure, the sky—literally everything if you could be with the both of them right now.

But again. You don’t have to say anything, he already knows. “Give me your coordinates.”

Your eyes pop open and you bite your lip. Oh, stars. You hate that you do genuinely consider it. He could be here, and very soon. With the jet pack, both of them could be here in less than an hour, probably. He could take a shower. Watch these stupid shows with you all night without needing to be on the move, help you build a bed of pillows for the kid on top of this one. You could be with both of them again, even if it’s only for a little while.

“Ask me again tomorrow,” you finally whisper, looking down at the soft white fabric of your robe, the way one of your slippers is falling off your foot as the holonet program continues to play on mute.

Din’s footsteps eventually start up again, and you both relax in silence together. You, squinting at the screen because your eyes are getting heavy; him, continuing to travel step by step and gain ground on you. Let him come. You’ll be long gone by the time he even makes it to the gates.

It’s been about ten minutes of shared, quiet existence before you hear him bite into something and chew, and your face suddenly lights up.

“Are you eating the purple fruit?” You ask, your slipper falling off with excitement. You don’t know why, but it’s like… you’re stoked for him. Just as proud of him for doing normal things as he does when you step out of your own comfort zone. You like to think you’re both better that way. Balanced.

“Mm,” Din replies with his mouth full, and you grin down at your bare legs peeking through the robe while he swallows.

“Is it not the best thing you’ve ever tasted?” Your voice goes a little breathless with it, and you hear his footsteps stop once more.

“Close,” Din murmurs lowly, sending a small shudder through you. It suddenly feels a bit warm in here, doesn’t it? This morning was one of the rare times you were awake while he was asleep… it’s almost always the other way around, and just from the implication in his tone, you’re reminded of the thing he likes doing most when you’re resting. Maybe he’ll let you do it to him, next time around. The thought gets you hot enough to warrant the other slipper falling to the floor.

“You’re alone, right?” You whisper, knowing he must’ve pulled the helmet up to take a bite of the fruit. He must still be following your path through the hillside, then, not yet reaching the road.

“The kid is awake,” Din tells you, sounding like he’s trying to stop everything before anything starts. His words are short and clear in their meaning, but…

This has a very small chance of success, you already know. “…Do you want to—”

“No,” he responds quickly, already way ahead of you. “We can’t.”

Something in his voice… you don’t know, there’s just something there that makes you feel just a little reckless. Should you push it? You’re by yourself in this suite, what can go wrong?

“You can’t,” you correct him quietly, shifting around on the bed just a bit and biting your lip. It’s a thrill—being able to tease him without having him in front of you, drive him crazy knowing you’re just out of his reach. “But I can do whatever I want, can’t I?”

There’s a pause, a tense and knowing silence suspended between you before he eventually speaks.

“I’d be real careful,” Din mutters low in warning, but what is he gonna do?

“What are you gonna do?” You whisper to him devilishly. Quiet and breathy, beginning to snake your hand down. Stars, your heart is already pounding. You’d only likely mouth off like this in person just to see how hard he’d fuck you, but this feels extra dangerous for some reason. He’s stuck, he can’t do anything about it right now, and you know it’s playing with fire. “You could hang up if you don’t want to hear me. Or you could find me before I’m finished. Come make me stop.”

Din doesn’t say anything but he very much does not hang up, nor does he come busting into your room like you imagine he’d like to. The sheer fact that your door is still closed and locked tells you for sure that he isn’t just hanging out in the hallway, just letting you have your fun.

You start pressing your fingers against your robe at the apex of your thighs, humming at how nice the pressure feels. You don’t even spread your legs or push the fabric away, you just sigh into it and wiggle your hips a bit, pressing hard against your clit and listening to him breathe.

“Do you want to listen?” You ask quietly after a moment, and Din still doesn’t respond. Likely because there’s not a real answer, both yes and no would imply the wrong thing. “I’ll talk.”

Still, nothing from him. Dead silence through the comm. You’re starting to understand. For two days, you’ve felt like he could read your every thought just by the cadence of your voice. He’s staying quiet so you can’t even attempt to do the same to him—if he doesn’t talk, you can’t find a weakness and pounce on it, you can’t feel any more confident or reassured about your own ability to read him.

You’ll just have to push a little harder, then.

“Hm. If only this fancy communicator could…” you pause to look down at your wrist for a second, studying the menu. You don’t think you’ve ever really looked at it, you never had the time.

Din’s growl is sudden and sharp through the earpiece. “No, don’t even think—”

“Ah,” you smile, tapping the face and immediately finding the correct screen. “Take pictures.”

He’s deadly quiet for a moment, and you bite your lip with excitement. When he does speak, his voice is a pure threat, chilling you to the bone as much as it burns deep in your tummy. “…You wouldn’t.”

Ignoring him, you suddenly locate a menu option that sounds phenomenal right now. “Oh shit, does this holocall? Or is it a video option?”

“Holo,” he says very seriously while you study the lack of complexity of the built-in camera in skepticism, “and the kid is awake, so you can’t—”

“Oh, it’s definitely a video,” you unclip it from your wrist and he curses as you sit up, and then you press a button and wait impatiently for him. “Pick up.”

Din takes forever before responding, and you hear the continuous beeps as it attempts to connect, before his quiet baritone rumbles in your ear. “What if I don’t?”

You feel your mouth pull down at the corners, not so much frowning as you are dubious. He’s going to turn down the opportunity to see you and your surroundings when his whole goal is locating you? Really?

“You sure?” You ask softly, raising an eyebrow. “You’d get to see me, where I am. What I’m…” your eyes dip down to the loose robe riding your curves, your skin glowing against the white fabric, “…wearing.”

The beeps continue on for a few more seconds, until they finally stop. You frown down at the black screen of the communicator, not seeing anything at all. Did he decline the transmission request? No… there’s a little red light next to the small lens that wasn’t there before. Why can’t you see him?

“Why can’t I see you?” You ask. You want to look at him looking at you, you don’t want to always be stuck on the other side of a one-way mirror.

“I… have it linked to my helmet, but it only has a front-facing camera,” Din tells you after a moment, and he sounds… slightly out of breath. “Easier to see, the watch is useless now besides the controls.”

Wait, does that mean you’re… being shown on the inner-display of his helmet instead of his wrist? Right in front of his eyes, as if he were actually here with you?

“Nobody can see me but you?” You clarify, and when he doesn’t respond, you bite your lip and lean back into the pillows. You lift the watch up slightly, extending your arm out until you can get the angle as wide as possible. “Can you see… this?” You ask softly, before hooking your fingers in the collar of your white robe and slowly pulling it open for him.

“Where are you?” Din asks instead, and you hear his footsteps through the earpiece, as if he’s walking away from something very quickly.

You don’t answer him, parting the soft fabric until your breasts are completely exposed and you sigh, closing your eyes and snuggling back into the pillows once more. “I’ll tell you where I am if you keep watching me.”

“Why?” Din grits in frustration, coming back around to the same dangerous question he had earlier. “Why would you do that?”

“I don’t know.” You slowly tilt the camera down until you can spread your legs and the robe falls open with the movement, letting him see your pussy peeking through in the flickering light of the muted screen in front of your bed. “Can you see that?”

“Yeah,” he says shakily on the end of a breath, and you feel yourself get wet. Fuck, he sounds so fucking tempted, the sight making his voice come without any of the self-assuredness as it usually has, but… he could also just be saying that. How do you know he’s telling you the truth?

“What am I doing?” You test him, lifting your knee just the slightest bit so you really give him something to look at.

“Spreading your legs for a camera,” Din responds without hesitation, voice scraping against your ear, making you shiver and your nipples harden. Fuck, the way he says it, like it’s wrong and bad even though he’s the only one who can see or hear you do it… it makes you feel even more naughty and emboldened.

You bite your lip and reach your hand down to spread your lips for him, too, hearing his breath immediately catch on the other end. Already your pussy makes your fingers slick against your soft skin, the sash of your robe still holding the fabric together on your body but also loose enough to allow it to part in the right places and reveal everything you want him to see.

“I am in an inn,” you whisper teasingly, letting your finger drop to brush against your clit and then sighing in soft delight. Oh stars, that feels nice, it feels so good to treat yourself after being completely nomadic for two days, getting to be clean and soft and comfortable while you feel this pleasure, and Din’s voice growls through your communicator like you’re doing something painful to him.

“Fuck,” his breathing picks up while you begin circling your clit. “Where?”

“Nariss,” comes your quiet moan, turning your head on the pillow to blink slowly at the camera. Wanting him to see your eyes as well as your finger slowly dip into where you’re the hottest, caressing the sensitive skin there knowing he’s watching.

“Where in Nariss?” Din’s voice is as pleading as it is sharp, desperately trying to keep either you or himself on track.

“I don’t know,” you say again. Truthfully, you don’t—you don’t know the cross streets, you don’t know the part of town, you don’t know much of anything at all besides physical descriptors. You quickly move the camera to the side as far as you can hold it and let him see you from a different angle with the window as a backdrop. “But the window is open. And there are lots of people outside.”

“Can they see you?” Din immediately challenges. Of course they can’t, you’re fifteen stories up and the room is darker than it is outside with all the city lights and swirling colors of the sky, but you suppose he doesn’t know that. You think he just needs to relax—if this is what he’s always like during hunts, you now know exactly why he comes back to you all riled up and tense.

“I don’t know,” you murmur back, starting to rub your clit a little faster, trying to make it feel like him. It doesn’t—your fingers aren’t large or strong enough to give you those perfect circles; you just feel like you’re meandering yourself towards ecstasy instead of picking you up and hauling your ass there like he does, but it’s okay. Hearing Din’s rough breathing come through the earpiece, knowing his hands are probably clenched tight into fists, wondering if he’s hard yet… all of it culminates into a power trip unlike any you’ve experienced recently. It makes you bold, tells you to open your mouth. “Does it matter? I’d still let you fuck me against it if you were here.”

“Stop it,” comes his growl, but what is he gonna do?

Your leg lifts a little wider so you can slowly slide your fingers down and push two of them inside yourself, and Din swears as you moan, “Come find me.”

“Give me your coordinates—”

“Are you giving up?” You offer breathlessly, lifting your eyebrows and your hips up slightly at the question, but you’re… not expecting the extended silence following. You assumed a growled no would immediately come next, or just another empty threat said with enough force to make you tremble with excitement, but not… nothing.

The response makes you pause just for a second, easing your fingers out and dragging them across your thigh to clean some of the wetness off before extending your arm out towards the communicator. Din stays quiet while you navigate through the menu with trembling fingers, eventually finding your coordinates and hovering over the unchecked share location box.

You wait with your lip bit, confident he knows what you’re doing and you don’t have to narrate or repeat yourself. Fuck, you knew you were considering abandoning this entire adventure just to be next to him again, but you had no idea. No fucking idea that it could ever be a thought in his own mind as well. You… assumed he likes this, hunting is what he does for a living and he’s the one who conceived of the idea in the first place. Is he just that aroused by you? Or is there something more?

“No,” Din eventually murmurs, and you immediately navigate out of the menu so you don’t accidentally press anything catastrophic, before pulling your hand away from the communicator with a resolved hum and settling back into the pillows again. Making sure to look directly into the lens even if your eyelids are heavy with heat and desire, you slowly lick your fingers and then reach down once more.

His deep, shaky breath is so telling. Exhausted after all this, but still not hanging up, still doing his hardest to tough it out when he’s only miles away from you and has jets attached to his back. You don’t want to drag it out but you also do, you want to be kind but something about Din makes you also want to be as formidable as possible. You’ll never be able to threaten like he does, you’ll never have anyone cower just because you walked into the room, you’ll never be as powerful or strong as he is, but you can still put up a fucking fight against him in your own way.

You whimper softly, your breathing beginning to find a quicker pace as surely as your fingers do. It begins to spark and build, a red hot flame being kindled by the knowledge that he’s as close as possible without actually being close, right here with you when he always seems so far away.

“Mando,” you whisper, though your expression pulls inwards just slightly because it… in a scenario as sensual and intimate as this, it almost doesn’t sound righ—

“Din,” he whispers back, so quiet you almost don’t hear it, like he almost doesn’t want to but has to anyways, and then you just start to fucking burn.

“D-Din,” you whisper instead, trying to keep your voice as quiet as possible through the rising swell. He’ll be able to see it, you think. The way your tummy and chest start to heave, how your body begins to brace for it—and yeah, Maker, he sees it, because his voice suddenly changes.

“Stop,” Din growls roughly, knowing exactly how you cum—knowing exactly what it looks like, the way it sounds in your breathing, what it tastes like, how it feels on the inside. It’s been so long since you’ve touched bliss without him, months and months since you brought yourself to completion on the floor of the Crest by yourself, and though he’s rarely ever denied you, your own high on newfound control causes it to slip. He barks your name and tells you to stop once more, but it’s too late.

“I’m gonna cum, Din,” you breathe out—

“Don’t—”

It tears through you, rapid and surging, and he snarls a curse, something loud snapping and thudding and… did he just punch something? You can’t think, it’s delicious and hard as fuck and everything you needed after two days of near constant movement and thought with little rest, and you bite your lip to keep quiet but a pained whimper still shoves its way out of your tense vocal cords regardless. It sounds like it hurts because it does hurt; the orgasm shatters your body into pieces and you’re left trembling by yourself on this soft bed, wishing he was with you on a metal one.

You sink into the mattress in the moments following, sluggish and exhausted and just conscious enough to keep the watch facing you. You bet the camerawork was terrible, shaky at best, but you can’t find it in yourself to care right now. You just lay there and listen to his harsh breathing while you work to slow your heart rate, reveling in the filthy little show you just gave him and wanting to finish it out properly.

“Come find me,” you breathe out once more, lazing soft and naked for him, blinking dazedly at the watch as you pan it over you. Your thighs are still twitching and there’s a thin sheen of sweat clinging to you, but you drag a finger through your swollen lips and carefully wipe the wetness across one of your nipples. “Clean me up.”

“Fuck,” Din suddenly spits through the earpiece, furious. “You think—y-you think—”

“What?” You hum, basking in the afterglow and so, so curious. Truly, you’re dumb as fuck, you have no clue what you’re thinking, but if anybody would be able to tell you, it’s him.

There’s a moment where his breathing stops. It’s completely silent on the line, before you hear another few heavy footsteps on his end pick up and then halt just as quickly.

“You think you can taunt me?” He murmurs, dangerous and deadly quiet. “Show me exactly where you are, disappear and then make me waste forever trying to get there? You think that’s gonna work?”

Your eyebrow lifts, considering. He… may or may not have predicted your strategy perfectly, but his insight has stopped surprising you by now. “Maybe…”

“Maybe you shouldn’t fall asleep tonight.”

Ooh. That one sends goosebumps down your arms, but you’ve gained four hours on top of a twelve hour headstart. He can’t scare you with that tone, not when you’re still woozy with pleasure and he isn’t right in front of you. Instead of wilting beneath the hard threat, you just blink gently at the communicator, finding strength in being the only one to get him this mad when he’s always so composed, this talkative when he barely says a word. “Maybe I’ll just stay here then?”

“Maybe you wanted me to know you’re in an inn because you already found someplace to hide that isn’t one,” Din reasons very, very adeptly. Stars, your heart subtly begins to pick up, your legs continuing to tremble as the small red light next to the lens stares you down. “Can’t be planning to stay with someone you just met because you’d already be there, can’t be going to a hostel because you found the one city on this moon built for commerce and not aid. Not staying in another inn, you can’t afford it—the view looks high up, that robe is expensive, and you already bought food and at least five pairs of shoes in two days. I don’t think the place you found is even in Nariss. You think you can outsmart me, sweet girl?”

The chill down your spine doesn’t reach your eyes, you won’t let it. You just feel yourself smile, tilting your head at him and licking your lips while your finger brushes one of your nipples, but Din doesn’t accept your silence the way you’ve always accepted his. He wants an answer from you, right now, and it’s clear in the dark rumble of his voice, the danger slowly brewing beyond what you originally planned for.

“Tell me,” he orders, unamused and leaving no room to disobey. “How long do you think you can keep running?”

Your eyelashes flutter, suddenly deciding… why not? What have you got to lose? Nothing that you didn’t already go into this situation completely expecting to lose anyways. What’s the worst he can do? Find you?

You close your eyes, pinching one of your nipples and wondering if you might just go for another one since he’s still here. “Ask me again tomorrow.”

But then, instead of immediately responding, you just hear Din’s footsteps suddenly pick up, faster than any pace you’ve been able to keep over the past few days. You don’t think it sounds like a run necessarily, but you know that his legs and strides are far longer than yours and it’s probably pretty much equivalent to a run for you. You hear the rhythm of your demise speeding up, coming closer and closer, and everything in you both fears it and welcomes it.

“We’ll see,” he tells you, and then the red light vanishes and your earpiece clicks to silence.

***

Day 3—2:23am:

Even though it takes you much longer to do so than it normally would on a bed so large and comfortable, after such an exciting interaction and not being used to flickering light when you try to sleep but wanting to experience the rarity anyways, you’re eventually able to pass out.

But, not even a few minutes into a restless dream, you turn over and accidentally knock your communicator off the wireless charging station on the side table. It blinks with four percent battery life.

***

To be continued!!

#the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #mando x reader #mando x you #the mandalorian #smut #reader insert #fanfic #rough day #no-droids #tw: stalking

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misscarolineshelby · 3 years

Text

Roommates – Part Sixteen

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Words:1,876

Warning: Fluff, Smut

Note: This plays in 2020. It’s all fiction and not based on Cillian’s real life and family.

A week had passed since you told Cillian that you loved him and, whilst you were strongly under the influence of pain medication, you remembered it.

You had, in fact, developed strong feelings for him and whilst the words left your lips accidentally when you were drowsy and half asleep, you were somewhat disappointed by the fact that he didn’t say anything.

Of course, he didn’t share the same feelings for you, you knew that much. You’ve been friends for so many years that you could hardly be surprised that he liked you as a friend and for sex, but nothing else. But, what you had expected was that he would say something, anything at all, even if it was simply confirming what you already knew.

***

You did tell your sister about it and, whilst you were surprised by the feelings you had so suddenly developed for your long-time friend, she wasn’t surprised at all.

She saw it coming as soon as she found out that you were sleeping with each other and she believed that you always had some sort of feelings for him.

In the same vein, she was sure that he felt the same about you and was probably reluctant to tell you and, with that in mind, you continued on as usual and acted as if nothing had happened.

You weren’t willing to give up your friendship and the amazing sex you have for maybes and thought that, if your sister was right, he would come around eventually, at least so you hoped.

***

Then, another week had passed and nothing had changed. At least so you thought.

Cillian asked you whether you wanted to travel to Cork with him to see his parents now that Ireland, once again, came out of lockdown and visits to family were permitted provided that you had a permit.

‘I don’t think I can Cillian. Only spouses’ you said, pointing to the pamphlet he had printed out from the Irish Covid Information website.

‘Well, we are living together, you can pretend to be my girlfriend if the police pulls us over’ he chuckled, before pleading with you.

‘You just want me to drive, don’t you’ you then said and he nodded. He hated driving long distances and it didn’t help that he had only gotten his drivers licence five years ago and failed his driving test three times when he moved back to Dublin.

‘I suppose it’s safer if I drive…so yes, I am coming’ you said somewhat amused.

‘Should I ask Ma to prepare two or one room for us?’ Cillian then asked and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

‘Your mother is strictly catholic and I suppose that the answer to your question depends on what you are willing to reveal to her about our little arrangement’ you joked and, of course, Cillian hadn’t even thought that far.

‘Two bedrooms’ he then confirmed before picking up the phone to let his mother know that you would be coming with him.

***

Three days later, you hit the road for the three-and-a-half-hour drive to Cork after you both had received a negative COVID test result which you took as a precaution.

As usual, Cillian’s mother was excited about the visit and you were excited too. You hadn’t seen her for about 18 months and the last time you saw her she had cooked you and your fiancé a lovely a meal.

Things were different then and you talked about your wedding and all the plans you were having in the future.

There was no pandemic to worry about and you weren’t aware of your fiancé’s indiscretions at the time while Cillian was still happily dating your somewhat crazy friend.

Now, your engagement had ended but your friendship with Cillian had evolved into something else entirely.

***

After a smooth three-and-a-half-hour drive, you pulled up in front of Cillian’s parents’ house.

They both greeted you with excitement and told you to come in quickly as it was raining.

Cillian’s father quickly carried your small suitcase to one of the guestrooms while Cillian placed his into the other. There wasn’t much space in the house and, whilst the house had four bedrooms, the corridors were rather narrow and the living area was small.

‘It’s so good to see you Y/N’ Cillian’s mum said before offering you a cup of tea which you gladly accepted.

‘The last time you visited Cork was under better circumstances, but I hope you will enjoy it nonetheless’ she then said and you thanked her for her hospitality.

You had always gotten along well with Cillian’s mother and Cillian was simply happy to see his parents again after such a long time, even if it meant that his siblings couldn’t visit them at the same time as him due to the visitation limits imposed.

As you were sitting on the sofa with Cillian’s mother you soon noticed that Cillian was gone and so did his mother.

‘He better not be stealing food’ she then huffed out sternly and, sure enough, Cillian had found the freshly baked scones in the kitchen and couldn’t resist.

‘But they are so good Ma’ you heard him argue as his mum told him to get out of the kitchen and leave the scones alone, which made you laugh.

‘He will never change’ you chuckled and his mother nodded in agreement.

‘No, he won’t’ she then said before informing you that she had made a roast for dinner.

***

After dinner and a few glasses of wine with Cillian’s parents, they headed to bed at around 8.30pm as usual, leaving you and Cillian to watch TV in the living room.

You were quick to spread your legs out over Cillian’s laps, getting yourself more comfortable but being vary that his parents might walk in on you.

But, Cillian seemed to think that, once they went to bed, they would pretty much go to sleep right away and proceeded to pull you onto his lap.

‘I missed this today’ he said before he caressed your face and kissed you gently.

‘Me too’ you then giggled before returning the kiss rather quickly.

‘Do you want to go to my bedroom or yours?’ he then winked and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

‘Your parents are in the house Cillian’ you then said and, just as you did, you heard some footsteps in the hallway behind you.

You quickly jumped off Cillian’s lap and sat on the lounge like a well-behaved schoolgirl as his mother walked by to get a glass of water while Cillian covered up his erection, poking against the denim of his jeans, with a cushion.

‘Night Ma’ he then said and she couldn’t help but laugh before saying ‘good night’ again.

‘I am not going to have sex at your parents house’ you then huffed out quietly when his mother had left.

‘Alright, let’s go for drive then’ he suggested.

‘A drive? And how will you explain this to your mother tomorrow?’ you laughed and Cillian suggested to tell her that you forgot some toiletries and he drove to the shop to get them.

‘Supermarket closes in 30 minutes, let’s go’ he said and you couldn’t really say no to him.

***

Ten minutes later you arrived at a secluded area near the beach and you could just tell that Cillian had been there before.

‘Is this where you used to take your girlfriends when you were at high school and snatched your parents’ combi even though you didn’t have a driver’s licence?’ you asked, having heard about these stories from his brother before.

‘Yeah, it’s a good spot, nice and quiet’ Cillian winked as he reclined his seat and you quickly stripped down to your bra and panties.

‘Oh my god Cillian I feel like an 18-year-old again, sneaking out of the house to make out’ you laughed and, just before you could protest, Cillian reached inside your panties and slowly stroked your mound.

‘Just that, this time, it will actually be worth your while’ Cillian smirked as he ran his forefinger between the crease of your pussy and noticed the moistness which had already built there.

‘Hmm yes, it will be Cillian’ you moaned as he was rubbing your clit with his left hand and with his right hand was caressing your breasts.

You were quick to release his hard cock from his jeans as well and began jerking him in time with his clitoral stimulation and the heat inside the car was palpable.

‘So naughty…what if we get caught?’ you huffed out, knowing that Cillian had a kink for semi-public sex.

‘It’s worth the risk’ he groaned and, before long, you were gazing up from the seat with that wanton look in your eyes, pulling Cillian closer and uttering cues while he fingered your pussy and mouthed your firm nipples with his welcoming mouth.

‘I need you inside me Cillian’ you moaned as you were welcoming two fingers into your waiting slit and could not be distracted, even by the crackling sounds outside and the sound of the radio.

‘Come on then’ Cillian groaned as you continued to stroke him and, just as he invited you to take what you needed so badly, you let go off his cock and climbed on top of him.

He pressed the head of his cock against your awaiting pussy and you slowly sank down on him.

‘Oh god yes fuck’ you moaned as his cock disappeared into your tight vagina, expanding your love tunnel while he met your lips with his. Your mouths parted and your tongues communicated the instant of union as Cillian’s cock drove slowly into your warm pussy. You were lost in their unity while your reality transformed around them.

‘You feel so fucking good’ Cillian groaned as you were moving in perfect motion with Cillian’s penetration and your thighs were even perforated with the moisture that was coming out of your pussy.

Your rocking continued and you were now joining orally with diatribes as Cillian’s cock bottomed out again and again inside you. ‘Fuck’ you uttered as his big balls pressed against your bottom.

Your warm tunnel was wide for his cock and your eyes were fixed on the mechanistic ramming of Cillian’s body in its hedonistic role.

‘I am cumming…fuck’ you moaned with the ever fastening in and out rhythms that Cillian was delivering to your womanhood. Cillian too was groaning and you put a hand underneath his balls while he pounded you and the car shook.

With your screams and loss of control inside erotic orgasm, Cillian too lost control and filled your cavity with his warm seed.

‘Fuck, Y/N, I love…’ Cillian began to say but, just as he did, there was a nock on the window of the car on the driver’s side next to Cillian, interrupting what he was about to say.

‘Please lower your window…’ a man said from outside and you could see some flashing lights behind where the car was parked.

Tag List:

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#cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x reader

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sirthisisa-wendys · 3 years

Text

Investigations (Part 7): Ran Haitani x Fem!Reader

wc: 1.6k

tw: NSFW is you squint

masterlist

song recommendation:

You try your best to shuffle around the kitchen surreptitiously, clicking the espresso pod into the machine with a soft 'snap'.

The machine begins its duty, whirring to life before the liquid is deposited into the cup below.

Success.

Your fingers wrap around the mug and take it to the counter, where you've already prepared your milk and syrup for a quick and easy cup of coffee.

Lately, you've had to sneak and make coffee (all futile attempts ruined by Kai or Ran), but you consider today full of promise. You'd gotten the formula down so far.

"I thought I said no coffee."

Your hands hover over the cup, the steam caressing your fingers like a warm invitation. Your eyes don't move to look at Ran, but they do watch his fingers snatch the cup away from you - full of warm milk and espresso.

"Y/n, it's not good for the baby."

"Okay, but..." Your feet carry you to the sink, where Ran is pouring the concoction down the drain. "Just a taste?"

"No."

"A sip?"

"No."

"I'll make it and just stick my tongue in it once."

"No."

Ran stands firm on his opinions at all times. Especially now. Arms cross over your chest and you huff, turning away from him.

"So strict." Ran fingers slide down your neck, resting around your full hips.

"It's not just about you," he begins, kissing the space between your neck and shoulder. "I'm looking out for our child, too. You know that."

"I do," you groan.

"Now, we have a baby shower to host. Let's get ready."

_____________________________________________________________

"We thought you were gone forever!" The three women come around you and huddle close, cooing, and crying, spewing lamentations and satisfied praises that you've returned.

Sanzu - out of the kindness of his heart - planned the baby shower, and you're at his house, eating cake with your friends and consuming hors d'oeuvres. But when you find a free moment, you corner Ran in the kitchen.

"Did you tell the others?"

"Tell them what?" Ran tilts his head at you and leans onto the counter, frowning. Your face smoothes out into an expression of disappointment, and you sigh.

Of course, he hadn't.

It's still your job to carry this terrible secret. It's still your job to bury your deepest, darkest knowing, all while the other girls are parading about like their husbands aren't killers and extortionists.

"Hey, y/n! It's time to open the presents!"

_____________________________________________________________

The water surrounding your figure is warm, full of bubbles and Epsom salt, as well as a little bath bomb that Ran bought - well, he bought sixteen, but that's beside the point.

"Feeling okay? Is it too hot?" You look over to the man sitting on the toilet seat, his elbows resting on his knees as he observes you pour water over your belly.

"It's fine," you murmur, blinking slowly. "Feels good."

"Want to turn on the jets or--"

"I want to join Bonten." Ran's face drops, his violet eyes clouding with confusion.

"I'm sorry?"

"You heard me." You stare at him, fully intent on getting your desired response. "I want to be a part of what you do."

"Babe, no." Ran leans his head forward, rubbing the bridge of his nose in frustration.

"You haven't even listened to me," you whisper, looking down at the ten toes poking out of the water. "You always do this. You tell me 'no' because that's the way you want things. I can't even drink coffee without your permission."

"Listen, I'll let you do whatever you want, but Bonten is out of the question. You're pregnant --"

"Then I can wait until I have the baby."

"Even after that, I'm going to say no. This is a dangerous business." He emphasizes his words with a shake of his head, pressing his lips together.

"You act like I wasn't an investigative journalist for ten years."

"This shit could get you killed, y/n."

"Yes," you begin. "But you do it every day. I want to be a part of it."

"Why?" Ran finally asks, and your lips curl into a smile.

"I know things you don't know. The media follows you very closely, and you need a good image if you ever run into a problem with... say, law enforcement. What better way to prove that this is a harmless organization than hiring a woman - your wife?" Ran quirks his lips, looking at the door of the bathroom with consideration.

"Is there any particular skill you'll avail to us other than just public relations? I mean, I could get someone to do that who isn't my wife."

"I have connections that will divert attention away from Bonten, if necessary." You think of the little group you and the other wives have created, and send a mental apology their way. "You can use me to get the word out about any other suspicious groups who might be involved. Aid and abet, like a good wife."

Ran stands from the toilet, sighing deeply. "I'll ask Mikey. But don't expect me to attempt to sway him with my loyalty. If anything, I'll ask him to really think about it before he makes a choice."

"That's all I want," you breathe, taking Ran's hand and pressing your lips against the back of it. "You're too good to me."

"Don't thank me yet, sweetheart."

_____________________________________________________________

Convincing Ran to part with his old-fashioned ways is something you're very skilled at. All you need to do is get on your knees... and be as sweet as you can be.

"Babe," you mutter, sucking Ran's thick cock from the side. "You're such a good husband."

"Buttering me up for Mikey, huh?" Fingers cup the back of your head and push you down slightly. "Why am I not surprised?"

And every single time, Ran sees straight through your little act. But he enjoys it nonetheless. He loves seeing you like this - giving him the attention he missed so much while you were gone.

"Because you know me so well. And that's why you married me."

That's why you married me. Ran's eyes close as he re-imagines himself the first time he decided to visit you, hands full of shit he didn't have to buy, and eyes full of stars at the sight of you answering the door in a tank top and shorts with a cast on your leg. That's when he knew that he wanted to marry you. Not because you're good at anything in particular, but because you were so ordinary... So normal. He needed someone like you then, and he needs you now.

"Stop."

"Am I doing something wrong?" you murmur, but Ran shakes his head, strands of his black and white hair flopping back and forth.

"You're perfect," he whispers. "You're always so perfect." He brings you off your knees and face to face with him, holding you by the arms. "Let me make love to you. I'll do the work," Ran promises. "You just enjoy yourself."

"But--"

"I've already told you what I'm going to do. Just let me give you what you deserve." Ran angles forward, leaning into a gentle kiss that makes your knees weak and your head spin.

Ran spoons you from behind on the bed, holding your leg up and sliding in and out of you with care. The other arm is holding you against him - wrapped around your chest - as he whispers sweet nothings into your ear.

"I love the way you moan my name," he breathes. "You always know how to make me feel like the only man in the world."

"You are," you reply honestly. "You're the only man for me."

_____________________________________________________________

"Why do you want to join Bonten?"

The dead eyes of the man across from you are unyielding, and part of you feels nervous that he's staring at you so intensely.

"I want to help you all out. I want to make sure that not only do my children have something to rely on when they grow up, but that my husband is taken care of in all ways."

"Your children and your husband?" You think of Ran, who is just outside of the door, probably pacing with his hands in his pockets. "Your husband just spent three hours arguing with me."

"About?"

"You." The man stands, and Sanzu looks over at him with blank eyes. He wants to chime in, but he can't say anything right now. Not when Mikey was supposed to handle this himself. "Your presence here will be controversial. Especially since you're... in the state you're in."

"Pregnancy isn't a fatal disease."

"No, but being in Bonten could be fatal. And I don't know if both ran and I would be willing to accept the consequences of two deaths on our hand."

"But--" Sanzu raises a finger to his lips, warning you to be quiet.

"However," the man murmurs, rolling his neck around. "Sanzu, Rindou, and Kakucho have vouched for you and your connections." Your shoulders slacken, and you lean back in the chair, somewhat relieved. "I will put it to an anonymous vote in thirty-six hours. Whatever the outcome is, we'll both accept it."

A blind vote.

Thirty-six hours.

"Thank you, sir." You stand and bow slightly, hands clasped together. When you leave the room, Ran is waiting for you in the hallway, eyes wide.

"Well?"

"It'll be put to an anonymous vote in thirty-six hours. Whatever happens, happens."

Ran's face is anything but pleased as you drive home, but you don't worry about that too much. You have one and a half days to wait for the results, and you'd make the best of it either way.

#ran haitani x reader #ran haitani smut #ran haitani #tokyorev smut #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers smut #Spotify

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mandoalorian · 3 years

Text

sensational

Maxwell Lord x F!Reader

Summary: Maxwell is away on a business trip for work, and you’re missing him more than you anticipated.

Word count: 2,2k

Warnings: 18+ smut; guided masturbation, male masturbation, female masturbation, light degradation, edging, orgasm denial, phone sex, long distance after care 🥺

Authors note: I’ve missed writing. So here’s a little something for Maxie cuz I’ve missed him too :( <3

Maxwell had only been gone sixteen hours. He left at 6am, and it was currently: you rolled over to check the time on your bedside alarm clock. 10pm. You frowned, pulling the crushed velveteen blankets up to your chin. He was probably fast asleep now anyway— after the flight and a long day proposing business scheme after business scheme.

You missed him a lot. He promised to call you every morning and every night, so long as he wasn’t swamped at the office. That was his promise and truthfully, you thought you’d be okay. He was only due to be away for a week. You knew a lot of other long-distance couples had it much worse. But being alone in his big suburban house was more isolating than you had ever even considered. It felt empty without him, and it didn’t feel like home anymore.

At least tomorrow you’d get to see Alistair, so that was a plus. You mentally groaned as you remembered how you were going to have to visit Maxwell’s ex-wife in order to pick up his son. She didn’t seem to like you all that too much, and to be honest, you could probably do without the chore of visiting her every Tuesday evening and putting up with her crap. It would be okay though. Alistair was worth it.

Your mind wandered back to your boyfriend. Your smart, handsome and powerful boyfriend with the honey coloured hair and chocolate brown eyes. He was always soft and warm— and a fantastic lover. Not only he was an excellent businessman, but he was also a brilliant father and a wonderful partner. He really was the perfect man for you.

You smiled wickedly to yourself as you remembered last night, and the antics you had both gotten up to before he had to leave in the morning. It was a long, passionate night. Your fingers ghosted over the love bites and bruises that were peppered across your neck and collarbones, and you gasped at the memory, a familiar heat rushing down your body.

If only he was here now… you two could’ve done it all over again.

Your glazed eyes flicked up to the telephone that was on your bedside table. You must’ve been staring at it for a good few minutes, contemplating things. Maxwell had scrawled the number to his hotel room down on a card before he’d left… just in case of an emergency.

You dipped your hand down to your cunt and felt your breathing hitch as you gathered all your slick on your fingers. You hadn’t realised just how wet you’d become.

Just call him. The devil on your shoulder urged. If he was sleeping, you certainly didn’t want to wake him but… surely there was no harm in an innocent goodnight call. At least then, you could hear his warm voice and his articulate words.

Maxwell Lord had you whipped.

Sighing, you took the phone from the hook and dialled his number. He answered on the first two rings.

“Hey honey,” he had a tired lilt to his voice, but just the depth and richness of his tone was enough to set a blaze in your tummy. “I was just about to go to bed,” he continued. “It’s late. Why are you still up?”

Yes, his voice was giving you everything you had desired, and more.

You swallowed thickly, your finger tracing lazy circles over your clit. “Mm couldn’t sleep. Was thinkin’ bout you.” you revealed, trying to keep your voice as steady as possible. If you could get off to his voice alone, without having him notice what you were doing, that would be perfect. If he did catch on that you were touching yourself without his permission though… that would be a different story. “Miss you.” you exhaled, your eyes snapping shut.

“I miss you too sweetheart,” Max sighed, and you could faintly hear him shuffle around in his bed, the sheets making a fuzzy noise on the other end of the line. “What— what were you thinking about?”

The question was a trap. You knew Max all too well. He was right to have his suspicions.

You didn’t even bother opening your eyes, and you tried to repress a longing whine as your finger involuntary picked up speed, like some kind of reflex reaction to his question. “S-stuff,” you stammered out when you felt your fingers begin to dampen and slip between your folds. But ‘S-stuff’ was hardly going to be good enough for Maxwell. You dipped two fingers inside you, surprised at how well they were stretching you. “Mm— Max, miss— I miss—“

You couldn’t even finish your sentence, already close to pushing your first climax out.

“Princess?” Max asked. “You there?”

Your response was delayed but was followed by a stifled moan that wasn’t lost on Max whatsoever. “Need you.” you gasped out, dropping the phone to your pillow by your head so you could use your other hand to rub yourself.

The friction of your digits rubbing against that sweet spot and the way your index finger and middle finger curled up inside of you was too much. You could feel yourself coming undone.

“Oh,” Max omitted knowingly, unable to contain the small smirk that was crossing his lips. “Oh baby.”

He felt his cock twitch from the faint little whimpers you were making, and he slid his hand under the waistband of his light grey sweats, freeing his already semi-hard erection.

“Tell me princess,” Max hummed. “What ‘stuff’ were you thinking about?”

Fuck. You wanted to curse. He knew. He clearly knew you were touching yourself to the sound of his voice; probably thinking you were needy and desperate. But you were. You really were and you’d give anything just to feel his hands on you right now.

“S-so much,” you answered, trying your hardest to collect your thoughts for him. “Undressing me. Caressing me. Mm, you playing with my tits like you always do. Kissing them— sucking them. Biting…” you reluctantly pulled your finger from your clit and began to palm at your breasts. “Come home.”

The two words were practically begging him. You ached for him. Your entire body was burning with arousal and you needed him more than you’d ever needed anyone before.

You knew it was a stupid request; and that he couldn’t just ‘come home’. But if you could have one wish— it would be for him to be on top of you right now, smothering you with kisses and whispering dirty little words into your ears.

“M-Max?” your voice was broken as you continued curling your fingers inside of you.

His fingers were wrapped around his own length now, pumping it as he imagined you sprawled out, naked on his king-sized bed. The grey sweats and white shirt had been long discarded onto the floor.

“I’m right here baby,” he assured, gathering the beads of milky white precum and rubbing it up and down his cock. “I’m here. Why— why don’t you take my pillow and grind your pretty pussy over it hm? I know you can get off like that, you dirty girl.”

Another uncontrollable whine omitted from your lips at his light degradation. You followed his orders, knowing better than to disobey. Taking his pillow, you got on your knees and positioned it in between your legs, holding the phone to your ear as you began to thrust your hips.

You imagined it be his lap. You’d rubbed yourself over his thighs plenty of times, making a mess of his designer pants and creating stains not even the drycleaner’s could remove. His pillow still vaguely smelt of his apple scented shampoo and it only spurred you on even more.

“I bet you look so pretty right now,” Maxwell grunted. “My pretty girl. What are you?”

You squeezed your eyes shut as the pleasure rifed through your veins. “I’m your pretty girl.” you confirmed, feeling your cheeks heat up when Max chuckled.

It was a sensation overload— and you knew you wouldn’t be able to last. Maxwell knew too, judging by the way your moans picked up and became jagged. “God— Ma-Mmm—Max,” your thoughts were fuzzy and jumbled as you increased your pace. You wanted to feel something inside of you again. Your fingers or a dildo or— something, anything. But you weren’t even sure if you’d get the chance. “I’m so close,” you warned. “Gonna— gonna cum—“

“No,” Max said darkly, his voice having lowered an octave. “Roll on your back princess, and pull the pillow off you.”

You wanted to cry. You knew he always liked to play these games.

“B—but,” you choked out, wanting to finish and reach your orgasm.

“Don’t make me ask again.”

He was using that scary business voice. The one you often overheard when he was on the phone with partners or associates. Reluctantly you pulled the pillow away from your weeping cunt put it back in its place.

“O-okay,” you mused, wiping the tears that had pricked at the corner of your eyes as you changed position and got comfortable on your back, just like he’d instructed.

“I wish I was with you sweetheart, wish I could fuck your little pussy. How wet are you?”

“Very.” you replied exasperated, desperately waiting for him to let you touch yourself again.

“Show me,” Maxwell smiled wickedly. “Move the phone in between your legs and finger yourself. I want to hear you.”

You frantically followed his instruction and inserted your two fingers inside of you, pushing them deep and curling them upwards so they hit that hot, spongey sweet spot. Your legs were shaking and your back was arched over top of the satin sheets as you panted your boyfriend’s name.

Max was more than thrilled to hear the squelching wet noise that echoed throughout the comfort of yours and his shared bedroom, with every thrust and curl of your fingers. It felt good but… it just wasn’t him.

Now his own broken gasps were audible. You loved to hear him. He always got loud when he was close. That’s how you knew he was about to finish. “So— so good. Sweetest cunt in the whole fuck—fucking world. When I come home I— gonna fuck you so hard.” he promised in between shaky breaths.

Your lips curled into a grin and you arched your back as your slick dipped down the softness of your inner thighs. After all the edging and over stimulation, there was no way you were going to last. This was exactly what you wanted; Max may not have been physically there but his voice alone had always worked wonders.

“Can we— can we cum togeth—“ your request was fuzzled by the way you buried your head into your pillow, feeling a warm flush of heat race to your core.

“Yes,” Max cut you off impatiently. “Are you close?”

“Y-yeah, I don’t think I can hold it—“

“You can baby, you can. I’m going to count down from three and we’ll cum together. Okay?”

You were a screaming sweating mess at this point, and his countdown couldn’t have felt any slower. Three seconds felt like three years as you mustered all your will to obey him.

“Three, two, one—“

He didn’t even say zero. The countdown was followed by a long groan falling from his lips as his milky white seed spilt all over his fist and his tummy. His cry pushed you over the edge and you released your own climax, spasming and shaking on his side of the bed.

You curled up under his sheets, still shaky, and pulled the phone back to your ear. “Hi,” you whispered sheepishly. “That was good.” you bit down on your lip, smiling to yourself. Your own voice was a little hoarse from all the moaning and whimpering.

“Yeah,” Max agreed, smiling himself. “Are you okay?”

“I’m tired,” you admitted with a huff, relishing in his cologne scented blankets.

“Wish I was there to clean you up,” Max sighed, and for a split second, he pondered the consequences of catching the next flight home.

He always took care of you after sex, paying a meticulous amount of detail to how you acted after your moments of shared intimacy. He’d fetch you water and wipe away any mess with a warm wash cloth. Sometimes he’d even help you into some cozy pyjamas or one of his shirts.

“I can go clean myself up, don’t worry about me,” you hummed in contentment. “Are you okay?”

“I’m perfect baby,” he grinned “I love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

“I can let you go—“

“No,” you cut him off, clutching onto the phone not wanting him to leave. Yeah you’d missed the amazing sex but truthfully, you’d missed him the most. “Can we uhm, can we just stay here on the phone together? Fall asleep together? I— I want you to be there when you wake up.”

Max hesitated for a moment, but he didn’t see a problem with your request. In fact, he thought it was a wonderful idea.

“Yeah, of course honey,” he replied softly. “I’m gonna go wipe myself down. You should do the same.”

“O-okay,” you sniffed. “I love you. I won’t be long.”

When you returned, Max was already waiting for you. “Princess?” he called, when he heard you shuffle back into bed.

“Hiya,” you giggled, rubbing your eyes. “I’m sleepy.” you admitted, your statement followed by a yawn.

Max chuckled. “Has my girl worn herself out?”

You laughed and nodded your head. “Yeah.”

“Okay sweetheart, let’s go sleep.” Max hummed, resting the phone by his pillow and closing his eyes.

“Okay, good night Maxie.” you mused softly.

“Good night honey.” He returned, before you both fell asleep.

——————

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#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #maxwell lord #max lord #maxwell lord x reader #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #pedro pascal smut

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atinyidea · 3 years

Text

Heartworm | Choi San

n. a relationship or friendship that you can’t get out of your head, which you thought had faded long ago but is still somehow alive and unfinished, like an abandoned campsite whose smouldering embers still have the power to start a forest fire.

⟶ college!au, best friend!san, brother!seonghwa, friends to lovers!au, kinda very spicy but there’s no actual smut, there’s mentions of underage drinking and sexual encounters, everything is consentual!

⟶ appellation series masterlist

⟶ 5.7k words

600 special prompt for my lovely soul partner @san–shine, its like 50 years late and I know she no longer is active on this blog but I wanted to keep this.

42: “Exactly how drunk was I?”

49: “Good morning, sunshine.”

☞ When you were younger, you knew you were one-hundred per cent in love with your best friend, Choi San. However, because he was also, in fact, your brother’s best friend and you were a sixteen-year-old rebel adamant to never admit your feelings, you had to watch as he got his first girlfriend during a party Seonghwa had thrown for you. Now, years later and in the middle of college, you find yourself in a familiar setting: a party thrown for you by your brother and Choi San looking as breathtaking as he always does.

☞ moodboard

Just to be clear, when you woke up, you hadn’t expected your brother to announce that there was going to be a party held at your house for your twenty-second birthday. Your brother, being the kind and loving brother he was, had yet again used your birthday as an excuse to throw a house party, even though it wasn’t even your birthday until tomorrow. Seonghwa liked to use your birthday, the date falling in the last week of the summer holidays, as a way to gather all your combined friends as some sort of final summer get-together before the school year began again. You weren’t particularly against them, the end of summer parties becoming a little tradition after the fourth year running, and the fact that they were held at your house meant you could just go to bed any time you wanted. [ thank you sound-proofed home as per your mothers request due to your fathers’ noise-making habits from his job as a musician. ] Though it wasn’t like you knew anyone who would be throwing a house party you couldn’t just walk home from.

You did not know how many drinks you had consumed, alcoholic or otherwise, but the setting you found yourself in was giving you very explicit pangs of nostalgia to the first time you and your brother had thrown one of these parties. Your current situation was not unlike the situations you had been in before. You weren’t ashamed to say that you liked to have fun with your relationships: romantic, platonic or the just-once ones. It wasn’t unusual for you to be found in someone’s lap around midnight; the last party happened to be a beautiful girl named Soojin, the party before that was a guy whose name you hadn’t bothered to remember. However, the person’s lap who you sat in usually was not your best friend, Choi San’s. Not the San you spent the better half of your life burying romantic feelings for because he was Seongwha’s friend first. Not the San, your eyes couldn’t help watch whenever he was near. You made a promise to yourself since that one time when you had just turned sixteen, the one time you found yourself on his lap. [ A promise you made to deny your feelings because the very next day, he had gotten a girlfriend who was definitely not you. ]

At seventeen years old, San knew he was still a stupid and hormonal teenage boy. He practically got nose bleeds anytime he remotely saw a girl's lower back or tummy, their exposed thighs or neck: he knew he could be a perverted little shit. Still, having a girl for a best friend meant that he also knew what was respectful and what was just disgusting – thinking back on it, he was grateful for his friendship with you for teaching him from a young age how to treat girls with proper respect. [ Mainly because you would whack his head or punch him in the balls whenever he said something inappropriate or did something stupid. ] But, also at sixteen, San knew that he was also sorta-kinda-probably in love with his best friend’s sister. [ Who was also his best friend… was it possible to have more than one best friend? ]

During the summer of your sixteenth, Seonghwa’s eighteenth and his seventeenth birthdays, San and his family had gone overseas for an extended holiday. His father had received a promotion, and his mother struck lucky in her weekly lottery draw, so he hadn’t been there to witness the gradual changes to your body. It wasn’t like San wasn’t attracted to you before [ not that either of you knew what the fuck attraction was before ] but when you came to the airport to pick him up with your father, he was sure he wouldn’t be able to look at another girl ever again. [ Of course, that was an overdramatic thought since he proceeded to have girlfriends that weren’t you but the thought of you truly never left his mind. ]

The day of your sixteenth birthday party was something he would always remember clearly. He remembered the way you hugged him for a solid five minutes when he got to your house in the early morning, complaining about how your parents would still be away for another few days, and your brother refused to even hug you on your birthday. [ Seonghwa’s excuse was that it was your birthday tomorrow, and that was when you could claim the birthday hug. ] Secretly, he wished you would tell him you hugged him simply because you wanted to have him close. He remembered how Seonghwa had launched into a story from his last house party (one for the seniors that only he was invited to, but the stories were fun nevertheless) as he attempted to make pancakes at your request. You had bounced your way to your favourite countertop space and jumped up to sit there, right in front of the fridge, because it was the only place that was both cool and warm [ “exactly the right temperature” ] in the entire kitchen. He remembered the way his body slotted between your legs, his back to your chest as the two of you shared a vodka-and-coke at ten-in-the-morning. His mind was restlessly deciding if it was okay to lay his hands on your knees or calves, inevitably switching between the two places every five minutes. It hadn’t felt weird but natural as all three of you shared hearty laughs and then partially burnt pancakes.

[ He remembered when he had given you the small-and-terribly-wrapped box that held your present, egging you on to open it a day early. The way your face lit up as you lifted a thin silver chained sunflower charm bracelet into the air would forever be imprinted on his eyes – your eyes sparkling and lips twitching up into a wide grin as you thanked him seven times. The gentle tone of your voice as you asked him to help you put it on because for some reason, you couldn’t put clasped bracelets on for the life of you, was saved like a voice note in his brain. “You remembered,” you had whispered once he was settled back between your legs, “that sunflowers were my favourite, I mean.” The brush of your lips on his cheek lined the walls of his heart as it threatened to shatter through his ribs. ]

As a sixteen-year-old San knew that you probably shouldn’t’ve had as much alcohol as you had that night. However, as a seventeen-year-old San also didn’t care as long as you were having fun. It was not the first time you consumed alcohol, but it was the first time you’d had enough to get drunk from it. It was your sixteenth birthday party after all, and neither your brother nor your best friend had any objections when you grabbed the first vodka-and-coke at ten in the morning while you got ready. So now, at almost eleven at night, you had had more than ten of those drinks, and you could honestly say you weren’t sure if you’d remember anything from this night at all. The hours went by in a blur, and soon three drinks had turned into eight as you dragged San to your room to decide on an outfit for the night. He remembered the way his throat constricted as you strolled out from your bathroom in a neon green crop top and the pair of flare jeans you always wore. Ultimately San thought he would’ve preferred that outfit to the one you settled on – a black denim mini-skirt with a matching jacket on top of a simple t-shirt with a neon rainbow painted across the chest. The sliver of skin showing from the crop top was way less tempting than the muscle of your thighs, mainly since that was your exact plan for the outfit.

“You look good,” he had said, swallowing gulps of air and saliva when you asked, “you’d still look good in a potato sack,” he complimented you as you twirled on the spot and gifted him with a brilliant grin that simply took his breath away.

“We match!” You all but squealed when you took note of the black denim jacket San wore over his t-shirt with a neon rainbow across the chest.

He hadn’t even noticed.

His memory started to get hazy around drink number thirteen. He couldn’t remember how or what events had led to the current situation, [ or which room the two of you were actually in that was both not your bedroom and also not inhabited by literally anyone else ], but he certainly was not complaining. You were so close to him he could smell the faintest scent of your vanilla and cinnamon shampoo and conditioner you had used the day before, the slightest whiff of your jasmine scented perfume [ the one you always wore, the one he bought you your first bottle of ] and the sweetly bitter smell of cherry coke and vodka on your breath. His hands seemed glued to your lower back and hips, palms almost moulded to your skin like he were a sculptor, and you were his latest masterpiece. Your legs either side of his own, wrapping around him possessively, like he was yours and only yours, and he let you, using his hands to pull you closer to him like you were his and only his. Your faces were so close he could feel each hot exhale of breath hitting his lips, and when they stopped as you shivered and whined, he couldn’t help the way his lips tilted upwards into a smirk. The way you attempted to wire your mouth shut not to make a sound wasn’t effective, seeing as he heard all three of your whines, each one getting more prolonged and higher in pitch as the two of you continued your ministrations. His hips wanted to jut up into you. Still, he forced his movements to be as slow and smooth as possible, wanting to feel every way you would come undone above him, but when his gaze flickered across your face. He spotted the small trickle of blood falling from your lips; it was like everything that had just happened had disappeared.

From your recollection, you only remembered specific parts of that night. Your legs had been situated on either side of his thighs, your arms wrapped around his neck as his palms slowly pushed up the small of your back to pull your body closer to his. Your faces were so close you could physically see the connection between the two of you, yet neither of you pushed forward enough to make that connection real and tangible. [ You wanted to, God, you wanted to kiss him right then more than anything. Why didn’t you kiss him then? ] San’s hands felt hot against your skin, his fingertips slowly moving to draw a masterpiece on your back. You shivered slightly as a slight breeze floated around the sliver of exposed skin where your shirt had ridden up. Your eyes were drawn to San’s lips as they twitched up into a slight smirk; his own eyes flickered to watch you watch him. Neither of you had said a word to each other for almost half an hour, drunkenly pushing at the limits between your friendship with nothing but burning touches and delicate twists of hips.

You subconsciously sucked your bottom lip into the confines of your teeth, but you willingly bit down harshly to stop a sly whine from escaping your lips as San had the cocky idea to roll his pelvis into yours as he held you in place with his hands on your hips. Apparently, you had bitten down way too hard because the next thing you knew was that San’s playful smirk had evaporated into a concerned frown. He lifted a hand from your hip – the sudden rush of cold where his hand previously was leaving you feeling a sense of loss – to your lip, his thumb tugging your lip back out.

“You’re bleeding,” he mumbled, thumb coming away with a smear of blood moulding into his fingerprint. The taste of blood in your mouth was unexpected and had sent you reeling. You almost flew off of his lap and practically ran to your bedroom’s bathroom to inspect the damage. There was a tear in the side of your bottom lip. [ The side of your lip you always bit out of habit, so the skin was thinner there than the rest of your lip. ] Against your better judgment – the rational part of your brain was too drunk at that moment – you settled your tongue against the fresh cut. Finching away from yourself at the unexpected [ which really should’ve been expected ] pain, you decided that there was nothing you could do to help soothe it. After twenty minutes, that felt like two, of staring at yourself in the mirror, you finally shrugged and made your way back into the heart of the party.

As an almost sixteen-year-old, you knew you were just coming into figuring out your body and the emotions of more physical relationships as you grew into it. You knew you had grown up a little (a lot) over the summer, your chest filling out from a b-cup to a c-cup, your lanky figure could no longer be considered lanky as your limbs gained muscle, fat and tone, creating a new full and curvy figure. Your mother had been ecstatic when you came to her asking how to style clothes to fit your ‘new’ figure as it meant the two of you could go shopping [ one of her favourite activities ], and you could find your style that both suited your body and personality. You did have to admit that your style didn’t change much; you still loved a sturdy flannel shirt [ always oversized though, now you tended to wear it open with a form-fitting crop top or spaghetti-strap top underneath to show off your chest and waist ] and you still loved your favourite pair of flare jeans enough to wear them almost every other day, [ the one with the painted sunflower over the back pocket. ] You also loved pleated mini skirts and knee-high socks or a simple loose-form-fitting dress with lycra cycle shorts underneath. You didn’t like the emotional side of your summer changes, though and, while you were new to the whole attraction thing, the one person you definitely didn’t feel anything remotely romantic for was your best friend. [ Well, maybe you did, but he was Seonghwa’s friend first, and that was a no-go… and perhaps you wanted to reject the way your heart turned into butterflies when you saw him at the airport… and maybe you just weren’t ready to put those feelings into words, so you denied them instead. ]

Your best friend whose lap you were just sat on, grinding your hips into his with your noses touching. Your best friend who was now kissing another girl [a beautiful girl who was named Hyemi, she was in Seonghwa’s class and also happened to live across the road… she was always nice to you and you couldn’t find it in you to dislike her even as your stomach knotted and twisted into something green with envy ] in the middle of the kitchen. You wouldn’t remember how long you stood there, watching the two of them kiss like a complete and utter creep, and you wouldn’t remember the look San gave you as he noticed the sway of your hair as you retreated out of the kitchen with a frown on your brow.

You did not fancy your best friend, and you definitely did not care that he was kissing Hyemi in front of the fridge. [ The fridge he stood between your legs in front of literal hours ago. ] Lastly, you definitely did not feel like crying as your mind reminded you about two different memories of earlier that day – one of you sat on the counter opposite that exact fridge with San leaning back into you as he gave you the sunflower charm bracelet that wrapped around your wrist, watching Seonghwa attempt to make you birthday pancakes. The second the memory of his hands burning up your skin, the way his lips tilted into a smirk when you shivered under his hold and the way you inflicted pain to yourself in an attempt not to whine with pleasure at the way he moved his hips.

It was too raw, and now you just wanted to forget.

San’s brain refused to calculate time because one minute his hand was reaching for your bloodied lip and the next you were gone, and San was back in the kitchen getting you a glass of water [ and then he was kissing another girl in front of the fridge he rested between your legs literal hours ago. ] San wouldn’t remember what their conversation had been, only that this girl, Hyemi, was older than him and had just asked him out. He wouldn’t remember the exact way her grin turned a little too malicious to be sincere. He would, however, remember the way your hair flew over your shoulder as you spun away from the scene involving him; he would remember the way his eyes followed your figure all the way into the embrace of your brother as you shallowly smiled and stole his drink [ and he would remember the way his chest seemed to ache at that simple action. ]

Hyemi became his girlfriend at that same party; you didn’t even know they knew each other. He didn’t even know why he said yes.

And here you were, on the penultimate night before your twenty-second birthday, in the lap of your best friend. His relationship with Hyemi had lasted six months, and he had gotten six more significant others in the seven-year gap from then til now but, right then, he was single, and you were in his lap. You had flopped down over the side of a two-seater couch; eyes screwed shut with laughter, so you didn’t realise who was sat on said couch – or that anyone was – until your head made contact with their thigh. [ Their thigh was very comfy to lay on, which was the first thing your brain commented on. ] When you looked up and met eyes with San, a small [ tiny really, in no way visible to the person who knew you best and where to look for a blush – finding it immediately ] blush was growing warmly over your cheeks.

“Hey there,” He grinned, setting down his plastic cup, [ more like throwing it over his shoulder, not caring that it hit someone since it was mostly empty anyway ] and poking your nose gently just to watch the way it would scrunch up. His fingers were moving from your nose to his ear to make sure the roll-up cigarette that was balanced there hadn’t fallen.

“Hi,” you giggled, your legs curling up to your chest, making you look like a contorted cat as your feet still dangled slightly over the arm of the chair. After a few seconds, your fingers started twitching and settled on playing with the fabric of his shirt. It was the same rainbow one he wore to your sixteenth party, matching the one you were wearing too. The both of you had grown out of them, San settling on cutting it into a crop top and you doing the same, [ since you were the one who had actually cut San’s shirt and decided to continue and do yours, so you matched again. ] His shirt gave little to cover, showing off his abdominals and tummy [ and the slight happy trail peeking out from the waistband of his jeans ] proudly and only just covering his pectorals. Your own shirt was cut higher, stopping just above the curve of your breasts. Still, your own torso was covered in a neon green fishnet bodysuit [ not that it left anything to the imagination, your torso was still on show ] that was tucked into your signature flare pants which now rode a little low on your hips and the sunflower on the back was more than a little faded.

“What are you doing?” He asked with an amused grin, [ complemented with the subtle raise of a singular eyebrow… Gods, why was he so attractive? ] one hands fingers starting to twist in the loose strands of your short hairstyle. It was nice. [ The touch of his hands against your hair was excellent, the slight tug of the strands against your skull felt really nice. ]

“Taking a break. Siyeon, Minji and Yunho broke out the karaoke machine, and they're playing the song shots game.” You replied as if it explained everything. [ It actually kind of did, San recalled you once telling him that the chaotic energy of that particular trio and the song shots game gave you awful headaches. And you hated having headaches when you were drinking because it made you nauseous. And when you were nauseous and drunk, you tended to go have a smoke, which you were trying extremely hard to stop doing for the sake of your father, who also used to smoke and now had lung problems. So, San understood your meaning. ] “What about you?”

San had to take a minute to think. Just what was he doing? Why was he so out of it today? In his heart, San knew the answer, but he hadn’t unlocked that treasure chest just yet. [ He was tired of watching you be semi-intimate with people that weren’t him… Which he refused to admit. Because both of you were pinning assholes in denial. ] Finally, even though it had only been a minute, he replied with a simple “I’m just… sitting.”

“Oh?” You asked, now it was your turn to raise the amused eyebrow, “just sitting?”

“Sitting... and thinking.”

“About what?”

“You.” The word was out faster than San’s brain had time to process what he’d said. However, now he had said it, he wasn’t going to deny it. Was it the small amount of alcohol in his system? [ It was the way your eyes widened a little as you looked up at him from your place in his lap, fingers twisting in his shirt and lips falling open ever so slightly. ]

“Me?” Your pitch ascended as the volume of your voice diminished.

“Yeah, you!” He grinned, tone equally as quiet but still showing enthusiasm, moving his free hand to boop your nose.

“What about me?”

San’s fingers in your hair froze at your question, his mind whirring with any kind of answer that wouldn’t cross the line into confession territory wherein he would lose your friendship indefinitely, but after one look at the serious longing look in your eye, he decided he would ‘man up’ [ the phrase making him cringe as soon as he thought it… the connotation of the word being so outdated and, for someone who grew up with a very stubborn girl in his life, San wondered why society hadn’t come up with a suitable alternative to the phrase ] and just tell you.

So he did.

“Do you remember what happened between us at your sixteenth party?” He asked, seemingly changing the conversation topic. Confused but going with it, a slight blush warming your cheeks, you nodded, and he took that as permission to continue, “I can’t stop thinking about it.” His voice was nothing louder than a whisper, you should’ve had to strain your ears to hear him, but at that moment, it was like all other sounds and distractions faded from the scene. Your breath hitched as you simply stared up into his eyes, his pupils dilated, almost taking over the beautiful swirling colour of his irises [ making his eyes look darker than usual, more intense than expected, and for a second, you swore your heart stopped ].

“What about it?” Your question was innocent enough, but the way you said it gave way to other ideas. Your voice was soft and breathy, like you weren’t getting enough oxygen, and like San, the words weren’t said above a whisper. Afterwards, you bit down softly on your bottom lip [ unintentional on your part, it was just a habit of yours, to be honest ], minutely sucking it in, and San’s focus shifted to watch your lips specifically.

“I’m thinking about how much I’d like to do it again.”

“You want to kiss me?”

“If you’d let me.”

“Please kiss me.” You whispered, more a statement rather than a question or demand. And so he did, leaning forward to reach you, head still in his lap, [ it felt like a slow-motion scene in a movie, but it couldn’t have been longer than two seconds before his lips were flush against yours ]. It was not the first time the two of you had kissed, but it was the first time you had kissed since becoming official adults — it felt different.

It felt good.

His lips were soft, and his kiss was gentle, at least it was at first. As the seconds ticked on, the kiss grew more intense, the soft brush of his lips pressed harder into you, his hands running over your body to pull you up to him. Your arms threaded around his neck, stretching out your torso [ if you were honest, it hurt a little… not that you were lucid enough to be aware of it ] and arching your back. He bit down on your bottom lip, tugging at it a little when your fingers twisted through the hair at his neck, pulling him to you with a new sense of desperation.

And then the two of you fell off the couch. You slid off his lap and landed on your back [ though it was more like you were on your side than your back ] while San rolled over on top of you. Both of you froze in your positions, eyes wide, [ pupils dilated but that was most likely due to the desire flowing through you ] lips parted as you just stared at one another for a second. San was the first to crack the silence, lips pulling into a grin and eyes crinkling with joy as his laugh sounded out around you. He flipped off from on top of you, landing next to you on the floor but his smile never dimmed and his laugh hadn’t faded. You rolled slightly so you were actually on your side as you continued to look at him. When he looked back at you your heart skipped a beat, his smile was so pretty and it made his dimple so deep but it wasn’t long before his laughter simmered and his expression faded as he looked back at you.

Biting your lip once again you made an executive decision [ the only decision you could think off, since all thoughts were now preoccupied with San at the moment ] to lift yourself to hover over him this time. You swallowed and let out a breath as your eyes met, searching for any sign that you should stop. Your shaking breath cut out into a soft gasp as San’s hands caressed over the small of your back to pull you down so that your chests touched. Your right hand lifted up to take hold of the cigarette tucked behind his ear, [ a small giggle leaving your lips at the thought that it was still there even after all that ] and twisted it between your fingers a little. Was it a nervous habit or just a neat trick, you couldn’t distinguish at the moment. San’s own hand came to hold yours, two sets of fingers now playing with the home-made roll-up gently. Soon enough San took it from your shallow grip and flicked it across the room, using the same hand to cup your jaw to cirect your gaze back to him.

Meeting his eyes made you want to shy away from his gaze but you let him keep you there. He looked at you with such a strong emotion you though you’d possibly be able to taste it from his lips. “I have to tell you something…” You whispered, close enough to not have to raise your voice.

“What is it?” He whispered back, the fingers on your back drawing small circles as the hand at you jaw left to curl a strand of hair around his fingers in the opposite direction. [ how he did that subconsciously and not mess it up would’ve made your head spin in wonder ].

“I love you.” You began, still whispering. “I have for a long time, though in the beginning I tried rather hard to deny it. Mainly because you had a significant other and I didn’t want to ruin that for you. And then, in a rather dick move, I got a significant other in the hopes of stopping it but that didn’t work so I stopped getting into romantic relationships altogether and now-”

He cut you off, pulling you into him to kiss the words from your lips [ which you appreciated because your inner thoughts were beginning to panic because your mouth wouldn’t stop talking ]. When you separated his smile was back, albeit not as wide as before. His eyes were as soft as his smile as he kissed you once more, resting your foreheads together. “I love you too,” he said against your lips. At his words you surged forward, pressing into him with fierce emotion as your kissed him.

You had wanted to hear those words from his lips for so long. You had wanted him for so long. And here he was, right in your reach, his hands on your body and yours tugging gently at his hair. Before all the breath in your lungs had finished and you lost your conscious nerve to a blur of desire those word had repeated at least thrice as you made your way to the comfort of your bed and the warmth of his body.

The next day when you woke up, you woke up earlier than usual and feeling unusually chipper as you took a hot shower. The subtly sweet scent of pancakes met you as you made your way through the house and into the kitchen.

“Good morning, Sunshine, you’re up early,” your brother grinned over his shoulder, both hands currently busy holding a pan and spatula. “I made pancakes.”

“Yes, I can see that.” You returned his grin with one of your own, a teasing smile lifting to your lips as you took a seat. Your head was clear of any headaches or lingering pain from a hangover since you were better with your alcohol intake as a twenty-two-year-old, and your reckless youth had lined your stomach with a fair amount of tolerance.

“Exactly how drunk was I last night? I don’t remember anyone leaving.”

“Oh boy,” Seonghwa sniggered, a sly grin taking over his features, “the party was two days ago, you slept all day yesterday. Really freaked San out.”

“What?!” You exclaimed, a piece of pancake falling from your fingers back onto your plate, bouncing off and onto the side sadly. [ It went ignored as you stared down your brother. ]

“Yeah. And he’s been ramble-muttering about you for a solid ten hours now. He’s really not subtle at all.” Seonghwa grinned. “So now that you two have slept together, are you two actually together?”

If you had liquid in your mouth, you would have spat it out. “He told you?!” You exclaimed, heart racing at the thought of your best friend and your brother discussing your sex-life.

“No.” Seonghwa denied immediately, face scrunching up in disgust at the mere thought, “I definitely don’t need to know details about that. It’s just San isn’t subtle at all when he’s mutter-rambling. He was oblivious to the fact he was thinking out loud about how to move forward after your… time together… while I literally sat next to him.” Seonghwa then grinned at you, again, the stretch of his lips becoming a little too mischievous for your liking. “Pretty sure he passed out on the couch half an hour ago.” He hinted, motioning over to the living room with his head as his eyebrows wiggled up and down suggestively.

A puff of air exhaled through your nose as a small smile climbed over your lips. You opened your mouth to talk, but he cut you off with a gentle pat on the head, “I’m happy for you two,” was all he said but it was enough. [ Your heart soared at the approval of your brother. It was not that you nor San needed Seonghwa’s approval, but it was nice to know he wouldn’t oppose it. ] Then you made your way to the couch San was asleep on.

You sat next to him, in the space unoccupied by his body. His brow was furrowed, which you frowned at. You lifted a hand and gently pressed on the juncture between his eyebrows, smoothing them out. His face instantly relaxed under your touch [ a part of your mind daydreamed that it was because he knew it was you ] and a small smith lifted upon your lips. Your hand moved down to cup his cheek and then his jaw before you raised it to gently wipe away the hair that had fallen in his face. You bit down on your lip, confused on whether to wake him up or not but life had chosen for you as one by one San’s eyes opened and slowly focused on you.

His eyes widened, and in a flurry of limbs suddenly he was laying on his back on the floor while you had balanced yourself with your knees over his waist. After a second of shocked silence [ as the two of you came to terms with what the fuck just happened ] a grin spread across his lips, eyes crinkling in delight, as his hands came to grip your hips gently.

A silent confirmation washed over the two of you as your lips spread to mirror his grin. The two of you would be alright as the next part of your relationship bloomed, the embers of your crushes were now burning bright.

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lemortehomme · 2 years

Text

I haven’t been drawing as much as I’d like lately, but here’s a little preview of God Says No! I’m not sure if I dare post before completing it, but goldangit I’m tempted.

Ask just once, and God says no

Beth, 23 and away from her family for the first time, takes a chance on a construction worker. It’s all going well, mostly because they’ll never see each other again after his job’s up. Then, naturally, the world decides to go to shit.

There were no words to describe watching the world burn. Words were small, meaningless things, little pieces of humanity that shivered in the dark against the encroaching wing of nature. Beth wiped a hand across her face, but it was a useless gesture; more tears tracked down her cheeks as soon as she drew her hand away.

She sat on a thin, polyester bedspread that itched against her bare thighs, and for once she wasn't thinking about how disgusting the blanket was in a motel like this. The other bed, just a few feet away, had its blankets ripped off and piled in the corner, though that was only part of the reason they were there. The ancient air conditioner, probably twice as old as she was, considering the wood paneling on it, sputtered and coughed in the background, so Beth grabbed the remote control. The plus button stuck and the TV blasted its way to top volume.

Something crashed in the bathroom and the water shut off, drawing a dripping man from the room, a towel slung around his hips. He was ready to holler, but the anger pinching his face fell away when he caught sight of her. Beth was already at the TV, turning the volume back to a reasonable level. She tore her eyes from the screen, knowing they were rimmed in red, knowing her tears meant nothing to him, because that wasn't what this was.

"The hell," Daryl said, falling onto the bed in the same way she had.

Beth sat next to him and fearfully reached out to grip his hand in both of hers. He was still wet, and, as she held his hand against her naked chest, the breeze coming from the air conditioner chilled the water his fingers left behind on her skin.

"Seen some riots, but I've never seen nothin' like this," he muttered.

"They're shootin' people. They're just killin' 'em as they run away," Beth whispered.

At that moment the picture, which had been jostling around as the cameraman ran, leaving orange smears of streetlights as the only recognizable thing in frame, stabilized in time to pan over to a line of cops, slick and black and faceless in body armor. They knelt, shields forming a phalanx to protect the line behind. Sharp muzzle points flashed in the darkness and the frenzied people dropped; some screamed, some howled, and some only jerked before forging ahead.

One man in particular, visible because of his blood-splattered white t-shirt, surged at the line. Hands wrapped around the shield and it came away, spiraling into the night. Then he lunged, grappling with the cop, until he succeeded in wrestling him to the ground. The camera twisted and rattled, hitting the concrete. Feet trampled by and the picture cut back to the stunned newscasters.

Jumping to his feet, Daryl strode to the dresser and yanked open a drawer, grabbing fresh clothes from inside. Beth couldn't tear her eyes from the TV. The station switched from the local news to the affiliated national network.

While Daryl threw on a shirt, Beth pulled her knees up to her chest.

"Here," he said and a small object waved in her face.

Her cellphone. Taking it, Beth flipped it open and dialed her parents' home number. The line disconnected immediately.

Some time earlier …

Beth checked both ways and then crossed the road, breathing deep as the sun hit her face. She had never realized how much being outside meant to her, how much it mattered that she took in sunlight, until she began spending up to sixteen hours a day under humming fluorescent lights. Of course she loved her work, but still, she looked forward to her hit or miss lunch break like she used to look forward to recess. The grass sprang underneath her clogs, the ground soft from yesterday's rain, as she climbed the hill to the park.

Orange plastic fencing fluttered in the wind; Beth tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear as she scanned the park. Sometimes she'd see someone she knew out here, but today it was only the construction crew. Most of them were gathered up in clumps of two and three, and they laughed loudly with each other as they leaned against heavy machinery. Beth gave them a wide berth; she didn't want to deal with them. They'd been working on replacing some pipes, as far as she could tell, and the noise from their work had become a constant companion inside the hospital.

There was a bench she sat at sometimes, just a little ways down a path, but when she arrived, Beth found it occupied by one of the construction workers. His hardhat sat next to him and he'd flattened his brown paper lunch bag over his lap to serve as a makeshift napkin. Pausing, Beth stepped off to the path's side and considered. She could go back and eat in the break room, but it was such a beautiful day. Maybe he would move if she asked him to. Beth looked again and noticed his sandwich was almost finished. And he was off by himself, rather than leering at her along with the rest of the men working the site.

So she approached the bench and asked, "Mind if I sit here?"

He glanced up from his sandwich and Beth wanted to slap herself when the first thing she noticed was how blue his eyes were. A brief look of confusion, or maybe panic, flashed across his face and then he shrugged.

"It's a free country," he said.

#Bethyl #story:gsn

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angryschnauzer · 3 years

Note

Imagine you're Henry's neighbour, you've heard his conquests, have to admit you're a little jealous as they all sound happy. But it make you wonder if they are faking it.

You chat to friend on the phone whilst in the garden, not realising he can hear you.

The knock on your door later that evening was unexpected but when you see your hot neighbour there you have no idea why.

Until he offers to show you just why those other women were so happy

Okay so i decided to continue my PE Teacher Henry series with this one, previous parts below:

Thigh Riding, Jingle My Bells , An Epic Quickie

Warnings: Fluff, a little bit of Angst, talk of breakups, young idiots in love.

The Boy Next Door

The sun was shining and the sounds of late summer could be heard as the four of you settled on dining chairs that had been pulled out onto the ramshackle patio so you could celebrate moving into the shared house for your last year of Uni and doing Post-Graduate for teaching. Opening a chilled bottle of Echo Falls Rose Zinfandel, Marie sloshed it into the four waiting glasses, handing on to each of you;

“Here’s to just one more year of Uni, then we can be set free onto the world of teaching education rather than being taught!”

The four of you had all done your degree’s together, and by the end of your 3rd year you had moved into a shared house to save on halls of residence costs. When you’d all decided to attend the same Uni for your Post Graduates qualification it was the easy choice to decide to rent together, and you’d manage to snag a gorgeous multi level Victorian town house to rent for the year. The landlord had admitted a few things needed to be updated, but it was a short walk from campus so in exchange for a reduction in rent you’d found the perfect place.

By the time the 3rd bottle of Zinfandel was opened you were all pleasantly merry, and from the advantage point of the raised patio where the garden dipped away as it went downhill you could see the road that ran alongside the house next door that yours was connected to. The corner house had looked a lot more appealing, but the rent had been considerably higher, so the compromise was that you’d rented the one away from the street corner. Just at that moment another Removals Truck pulled up alongside the corner house, and you could hear various cars park behind it, the sound of young male voices easily heard. It was obvious you had a group of male students living next door.

Three weeks into term and you were sat at the desk in your room, glaring at the wall in front of you. No matter how hard you tried to concentrate on how to teach fronted adverbials, the screams of the woman obviously on the verge on an orgasm from the guys house next door just reminded you of your lack of love life. With a sigh you set your pencil down and headed downstairs, away from the obvious now orgasming woman.

“Oh hey Hunny, thought you were catching up on some English Lit stuff?” Marie smiled as she poked at an egg she was attempting to fry on the small electric cooker.

“I was… until there was another screamer next door”

“Oh… another one?” she winced, knowing that from the 2nd day the guys next door had moved in, the one that was in the room next to you had been able to bed a different girl about every three nights or so.

You grabbed a glass of water and stepped outside, letting the sunshine warm your face. Opening your Motorolla Flip Phone you scrolled through your texts, smiling as you saw messages from last years classmates, checking in on how everyone was doing. You were vaguely aware of Marie coming outside, setting a plate down on the patio wall and the click of her lighter as she lit a Royals cigarette.

“You still miss him, don’t you?” she asked.

Pulling your gaze up to her, your eyes immediately growing wet. Nodding you swallowed the lump in your throat. Wrapping your arms around your body you looked out over the garden;

“I know… it’s stupid. Its been two years, and it was a mutual decision to part ways, but Henry was my first, you know? He was my first everything. We got together when we were sixteen, we made it through our A-Levels together, we even managed a year doing long distance when we didn’t get into the same Uni…”

“What about that dude… Chris? Didn’t you two have a thing a while back”

You let out a laugh;

“He loves his politics too much to commit to a relationship. If i had to listen to one more rant about Tony Blair whilst we tried to go out for dinner i would have screamed…”

You looked at Marie who was now halfway through her fried egg sandwich whilst her cigarette sat smouldering in the petunias that had mostly gone over for the season, and she gave you the ‘sad puppy eyes’ as she chewed. You let out a grunt of frustration;

“FUCK! I just want to not feel like this anymore! I’ve spent two years moping over Henry-fucking-Cavill, i just want to be able to get on with my post graduate and move on with my life without being constantly reminded of his skills every time i try to do any work in my room!”

Henry smiled and waved as Monica, no Michelle, no… wait… whoever made their way down the front steps of the house, closing the door with a sigh of relief.

“Another one dude?”

Looking at where Anthony was coming down the stairs he nodded;

“Yup. Sorry about the noise”

He followed his housemate through to the kitchen, switching the kettle on. He was now used to Henry’s conquests screaming the house down, but it was still fun to taunt Henry about the noise they would make;

“So, this was was faking it again?”

Henry looked at him in mock-shock;

“I can assure you none of them fake it”

Chucking teabags into two mugs Anthony chuckled;

“I know man. But i also know you’re still trying to fill the void she left. Its been two years man”

“Yeah, but she’s long gone, i’m her past, i’d only drag her down. She’s probably got some hot politics graduate about to propose to her. She wouldn’t want some dumb physical education ass like me anymore”

Handing him the strong cup of tea Anthony nodded;

“Whatever man, but i still think you should message her, you haven’t spoken in two years and you’re still hung up on her, one last try, huh?”

Heading out to the garden Henry sat on the patio wall and lit a cigarette. He’d sworn he’d never smoke again, what with being a physical education student, but there were still times when he buckled to his nerves and stresses. Lighting up he inhaled deeply, enjoying the quiet of the garden before he heard his neighbours come out onto the patio next door. Through the trellis covered in a thick layer of ivy he could hear everything, as although it did a great job at giving visual privacy, the clear voices of the young women next door carried easily through the greenery.

Ten minutes later Henry almost knocked Anthony over as he bolted up the stairs;

“Sorry man, got something to do… gotta get my Blackberry”

The next morning you were on your way to class when your phone chimed, looking at the screen you felt your blood run hot then cold at the name on the display;

“What does he want?” you muttered to yourself, before with a sigh you pushed the phone back into your bag, deciding to look at it later once you had finished your class. The last thing you needed to get your mind off of Henry was a text from him.

Making your way out to the patio, you threw your bag onto the sofa and smiled as you saw the rest of the girls already out enjoying the last of the days sunshine;

“Heeeyyyyy there she is” Janelle called, sipping from a bottle of Becks

“Is there any more of those? I need a drink”

Handing you a bottle Marie smiled as you smashed the cap off using the top brick of the wall, sipping the tart bubbles of Lager you let out a sigh;

“Henry texted me today”

The three girls went quiet before Jo spoke;

“What did he say?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t read it. I’m trying to get over him, the last thing i need is getting my hopes up. He’s hundreds of miles away, no doubt doing something super sporty that only makes him look even better, probably coaching kids rugby or something. He’s not gonna want some boring English teacher wannabe like me”

At the mere mention of the word ‘Wannabe’ the others broke into a poor rendition of the Spice Girls song, unaware of the silent frustration happening the other side of the ivy trellis.

After one beer you’d excused yourself, deciding to take advantage of the quiet to get some coursework done, thankful that your room neighbour on the other side of the wall wasn’t entertaining any female guests again, but you had no idea how long that would last so the sooner you got some work done the better. With your bedroom window open you got back to work, getting in a full hour before your phone chimed again with another text. Glancing at the little screen on the front you scowled, another text from Henry.

Setting the phone down you went back to your work, frowning as you struggled to concentrate, until five minutes later your phone chimed again, your eyes going wide when you saw it was yet another text from Henry;

“WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT?!” you yelled at your phone.

“A REPLY!”

You sat at your desk, surely your ears were now playing tricks on you, you could have sworn you’d heard Henry’s voice. With a sigh you set your pencil down and opened your phone, reading the messages;

Received 8.46am: Hi. I know its been a long time but i’d love to call you at some point. Would be good to hear your voice. Hen. x

Received 4.55pm: Miss you. Can I call you? Hen. x

The phone beeped whilst you held it, another text coming in;

Received 4.59pm:

Look outside.

Glancing at your window you moved to it and looked out, before a voice so familiar it sent chills down your spine shouted out;

“Down here!”

Janelle shouted out as you flew down the stairs, Jo and Marie both staring at the blur you made as you ran past the lounge and out the front door, letting it swing on its hinges;

“Where is she going so fast?”

The three girls stood at the window and smiled as they wanted to run into Henry’s arms;

“Into her future Husband’s embrace” Marie sighed, the three watching as the young lovers fell back into each other's arms.

“Wait, is he the ‘loud’ one?” Jo asked to no-one in particular

“Unfortunately… i spoke to one of the other guys - Anthony - last week, he apologised for his housemates noises”

“Oh well… guess she can get us some ear plugs then”

#henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #rugby teacher henry #au rugby teacher henry cavill

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jortsaaaaaaart · 3 years

Text

Competition raihan x Reader x Leon. Chp 1

All updates will be posted on my Ao3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/33064546

This will contain sex and a bit of violence later on.

It was a still spring morning in Postwick. The fog hung heavy in the air, faint lights in the distance were the only signs of any other people. This was your favorite time of day. No expectations, no people. And most importantly, nothing to do but drink your tea. On most days you could spend hours like this, in uninterrupted bliss. Today, however, your neighbor had other plans.

You heard him before you saw him. Hop was running up the path to your house yelling your name at the top of his lungs. Hop had always had way too much energy but this was ridiculous. You wouldn't be surprised if all of Postwick came out with torches and pitchforks for the crime of screaming at 7:30 in the morning. He rounded the corner to find you sitting on your porch, slowly nursing the last of your tea.

"(Y/N)! You won't believe it!" Hop exclaimed.

"What is it?" You groaned.

"Lee is back in town." You perked up at that. Leon hadn't been home in quite some time. "He's at the station right now and he brought something for us."

"For both of us?" Hop had grabbed your hand and was gradually pulling you off of your porch.

"Yes, he specifically asked for you too. Now move your fat arse!!"

You tried not to let yourself overthink Leon asking to see you. It had happened before. There probably wasn't any special reason your unrequited childhood crush would want to see you. Nope. None at all.

You followed Hop to the station down the hill, trying your best to keep pace with him. Sure enough Leon was at the station surrounded by almost all of Postwick. Being the champion had its difficulties you supposed. Leon looked up at the two of you when Hop yelled his name and suddenly you were aware of how sweaty and disheveled you must be. The two brothers talked animatedly while you tried to smooth your hair down.

Eventually Leon's eyes met yours and you felt that familiar lurch in your stomach. "Hey, Lee. It's been a while."

"(Y/N)! I almost didn't recognize you! How was Uni?" Leon smiled and gave you a bone crushing hug. "It's been years since I last saw you, you're not a kid anymore!"

"We're only two years apart, Lee! I'm 21 for Arceus's sake!" You laughed, hitting his arm lightly. "What are you doing here anyways, the gym challenge is starting in a week."

"I managed to get away for a bit, though I'm technically still on league business." Leon stopped and looked around, giving all his fans another brilliant smile and a wave. "Let's continue this at home."

That piqued your interest, he was on league business but it was secret? Or he at least didn't want all of Postwick to know about it. You trailed after him, mulling over the options, until you reached his house. The size of it and how pristine the grounds were always got to you. You felt small and dirty by comparison. Leon walked over to their battle court and released three Pokemon. A Scorbunny, Soble, and Grookey. All three Pokemon stared up at you expectantly.

"I brought these Pokemon for the both of you! It's almost time for the gym challenge so I figured you were chomping at the bit."

You were shocked, it made sense for Leon to give Hop a Pokemon- Hop had adamantly refused any endorsement other than his brother's. But you hadn't really put much thought into becoming a trainer. You had been sick with bronchitis when you were sixteen and missed the deadline for the challenge. After that life got in the way again and again until you decided you'd just go to University.

"The both of us?" You repeated incredulously. Hop had already dived towards the poor Pokemon who didn't realize how much petting they were about to receive.

"Hop told me you were back and hadn't found a job yet so I thought this would be the perfect opportunity for you."

"I don't know, I'm a little old to be participating, don't you think?"

"There's no age limit, I get plenty of older challengers." He assured you. "Besides, you're the smartest person I know. I still remember all those strategies you helped me come up with when we were kids. You'll do amazing." Leon placed a hand on your back, guiding you towards the Pokemon. Hop had Grookey in his lap by this point, leaving Soble and Scorbunny. The rabbit Pokemon bounded up to you immediately, seemingly upset it wasn't getting as much attention. It threw itself into your lap and demanded to be pet. You knew in that moment that you had made your choice, or Scorbunny had made it for you.

"Looks like that's that." Leon chuckled.

"What will happen to Soble?"

Leon scooped the water type up in his arms. "They'll be fine. I'm going to raise them, after all."

"I've got nothing to worry about, then." You laughed.

"Well, there is one thing. Which one of you is going to win your first battle." Hop cheered at his brother's words, his new Grookey hooting along with him.

"That's right! We're both trainers now, (Y/N)! We have to battle!"

"Have to? I mean, I guess it's okay. You okay with it Scorbunny?" Your new partner jumped up and ran to one side of the court. "I guess that answers that. You're going to be dragging me around quite a lot, aren't you?" Scorbunny, who you really needed to come up with a name for, hopped around happily.

Hop and you went to different sides of the court while Leon explained the rules. Hop was at an advantage with his two Pokemon to your one. But this was just for fun. Hop started off with his Wooloo and to your surprise it was downed in a minute. Scorbunny deftly evaded any attacks and retaliated with blazing kicks and Ember. Your heart was beating faster when Grookey was sent out. You felt elated, like you could see each move the opponent was making in slow motion. With the help of the type advantage, Grookey was down even faster than Wooloo.

You couldn't believe it was over and you had won. Is this how it felt for Leon? Heart racing, anticipating every second, and the feeling of joy and accomplishment when you won. It was addicting.

"What a great battle," Said Leon. Glossing over the fact that you just beat his little brother into the ground. "After seeing that I feel a lot better about giving you these." He handed each of you a sealed envelope. "That's my endorsement for the gym challenge, don't lose it. I'm talking to you, Hop. . . The opening ceremony is in a week, you'll get your uniform and badge case there. But for now I'll help you with your pokedex and trainer ids."

The sun had set by the time Hop was done asking Leon questions and you meandered back to your house. Being part of this gym challenge was a lot to think about, but you had genuinely enjoyed battling. You weren't as nervous when you battled, even with Leon near you. By the time you reached your porch you had made up your mind. You were going to head out and try to become a trainer.

. . . Now you just needed to find a tent. And a bag? What did you even need to pack???

Looks like you won't be getting much sleep tonight.

#raihan #Leon #hop #Pokemon #raihan x reader #leon x reader #Pokemon x Reader #x Reader #reader insert #fanfic

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thatmultifandomhoe · 3 years

Text

It’s You

Pairing: Changkyun and Reader

Group: Monsta X

Word Count: 7,433

Genre/Rating: Valentine’s Day AU - Quarantine AU - Friends to Lovers AU - Fluff - Angst - PG-13

Overview: The last thing you planned to do was celebrate Valentine’s Day. Being single on a holiday that glorified love, especially during a pandemic, was the perfect sign to stay at home to guarantee avoiding having a broken heart. Especially when Changkyun, the one who held it, seemed to have plans of his own.

Warning: Mention of past unrequited love and having a broken heart - swearing -

A/N: Happy - early - Valentine’s Day sweet peas! And yes, Changkyun from Monsta X was the winner of the “Who Do You Want to Spend Valentine’s day With,” and I had so much fun working on this piece. I’m personally not a fan of the holiday - for reasons you’ll read below - but I hope that those of y’all who do celebrate have a happy Valentine’s day, and I hope that y’all enjoy this piece and get all the chocolate that you want this year!

Tagging: @srvdyv @skyys-universe @kpophoneybunny @wheein-whanders @ezralia-writes

Music Playlist:

Main Master List:

Pinterest Mood Board:

The First Installment of the Hoe Catalog.

“Are you okay?”

Glancing over at the cell phone that was propped up on the dresser, you raised an eyebrow at the black screen. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You do know what day it is, right?”

Fingers pausing, you pressed your lips together, staring down at the button of the black jeans you had been in the middle of putting on. You had known what day it was when you went to turn off the alarm that had set for that morning. It had been painfully obvious, and as the pre-recorded song of birds chirping increased in volume, you had stared at the date for longer than you normally do.

February fourteenth.

Valentine’s Day.

“I’ve only been awake for an hour,” you said, stepping towards the closet for a shirt. It had been a miracle that Changkyun had called instead of his preferred method of randomly video calling. While it was true, you had been up for an hour, you had only started moving about to get on with the day about five minutes ago. And currently you were only wearing pants and a black lacy bra. Although, knowing him, he wouldn’t have complained.

There was rustling on his end and the clinking of a spoon hitting a glass. “I know, but I just wanted to make sure. You seemed pretty upset the other day.”

“It’s not that I’m upset…” You slipped your head through the hole of a black smocked square blouse with red flowers printed on it, adjusting the top so it sat properly. “I just...don’t like the holiday.”

Which was putting it mildly. It was more than a dislike, but as you went to look in the mirror to make sure there weren’t any tags sticking out, you silently thanked him for calling. You never hated Valentine’s Day. At its core, it was rather a sweet concept, one that year after year, a part of you hoped that maybe you’d be able to have someone to enjoy the holiday with. But after years of being single on the most romantic day, and having it ruined by dates turned sour, more often than not a dark cloud hovered overhead while you tried to simply get through the day.

You tried to find some spin on it to turn it around. Starting tomorrow and for the next week, chocolate was going to be anywhere from fifty to seventy-percent off. Sales were always fantastic no matter what the reason was. There were only so many chocolate hearts that you were capable of eating though.

“Why are you calling so early?” You said, turning the conversation back to him. It made sense why you were up – even on a Sunday there was always work to be done – for him to be awake before noon, that caused a bit of worry.

“Ah,” there was a thump that echoed on the call like he had dropped his phone, his voice sounding distant. “I have some things to get done today.”

“Yeah, but it’s nine in the morning. I thought you weren’t even coherent before noon.”

Changkyun forced out a laugh and you lightly smiled, gathering your hair into a bun before carrying him into the kitchen. Even though it was a simple phone call and was a bit distorted, it did nothing to dull the fluttering going on by the butterflies in your stomach. His lazy grin came to mind, and only ten minutes into the hour and you were smiling like a fool while stirring your coffee.

That was another reason why you weren’t entirely fond of the holiday. The entire day was dedicated to love, to telling someone that you love them, and here you were, having fallen for your friend and yet you refused to tell him. It was hard to pinpoint when these feelings began, but it was possible that they had been growing since the day you two met.

There was no doubt that you were a workaholic, always feeling weird if you bummed around for more than a few hours, so it made sense that on the rare day off that you took, something had to crash it. You had been indulging in some binge watching of your precious Inuyasha when your phone lit up with an incoming video call from Messenger. Immediately you had been hesitant. None of your friends ever video messaged you since unlike them, your cell was an android.

You hadn’t planned to answer him. Not only did you not recognize the name, or his picture - despite how attractive he appeared - but you didn’t normally answer requests from strangers. With that in mind and mildly annoyed in having to pause the episode, you were ready to hit decline and be on with the day. Except, you were a dumb ass, and hit accept by accident.

Turns out he had meant to call someone else and had been equally shocked when you answered. In fact, he had been less than classy upon seeing you in instead of his friend, the words, ‘oh, fuck me,’ slipping out before he could stop himself.

In normal circumstances, you might have rolled your eyes, or told him to go fuck himself, but it had been six months into the pandemic and he was the first new person that you had met in a while.

“I don’t usually fuck strangers,” you had said instead, not missing the way his eyebrow rose and how his mouth curled upwards in a smile. “But if you wanna buy me a grinder and have it delivered to my place; I might eventually be persuaded.”

There had been a tense moment, but when he let out a breathless chuckle, somehow you knew that you were in the safe zone. Turns out, the two of you had a friend in common who he had meant to call, but he hadn’t been paying attention to what he was doing and accidentally clicked on your profile. The call only lasted for a few more minutes before Changkyun apologized and with an awkward wave, ended it. You stared at his profile picture and next thing you knew, you were scrolling through his pictures, oohing upon finding an old one of him with silver hair and an eyebrow piercing.

A couple hours later, there was a knock at your door and after slipping on a mask, you were greeted with a delivery man that looked no older than sixteen, announcing that he had a grinder for you. Before you could say that you hadn’t ordered anything, he promised that it had already been paid for, tip included. Not one to turn down free food, you accepted it, and saw the note that was taped to the paper bag.

I’m not a weirdo I promise. Jooheon passed along your address, and I’m not about to let someone go hungry. From, a friendly stranger who hit the wrong button.

There was no second guessing on your part. You pulled his profile back up and hit the video button, only having to wait a few seconds before his face filled the screen, locks of black hair falling across his forehead as he ruffled it up.

“Did you seriously send me a grinder?”

“You sounded hungry.”

There was a brief pause, and suddenly you were giggling, shoulders shaking as you sat down on a chair, his own deep chuckles joining in not long after. It was odd, but after that – and after confirming with Jooheon to make sure he wasn’t a creep, which you were assured he wasn’t – the two of you fell into the habit of video chatting. Some days there was nothing to say. With the pandemic raging on and everything closed, it was nice to have someone simply be there after all this time.

Fast forward five months later, the pandemic had only grown worse, and not only had Changkyun proven to be a good friend, but he managed to worm his way into your heart.

“What about you,” Changkyun suddenly asked. “You’re not actually working today, are you? Forget the holiday, it’s Sunday.”

Rolling your eyes, you went back to the bedroom with the black coffee in one hand, and him in the other. “Not all day. I have a few graphics that I want to finish up or it’ll bug me. Should only take a few hours to do.”

“Only a few hours,” he teased. “I’m willing to bet you’ll still be working tonight.”

“Will not.”

“Will too.”

“Not.”

His end grew silent, and he suddenly cleared his throat. “We’ll see about that.”

There was something about that sentence that stopped you from entering the password to your computer. Glancing away from the screen, you stared at Changkyun’s picture, wondering why his voice had softened when he had said that, as if he knew something that you didn’t.

“What is it that you have to do?” You found yourself asking him again, not looking at the keys as you logged into your laptop, the bleeding hearts screensaver appearing as the icons loaded one by one.

“Just some…stuff. I’ll probably be off my phone most of the day.”

“Oh.”

With the amount of phone calls and video chats the two of you had, it had become normal to hear from him a couple times throughout the day. The text chat was filled with various memes, emojis, and conversations that ranged from how much is too much fabric softener? - all the way to late night conversations involving stories about crazy exes, to insecurities, dreams you’ve always wanted to do, and whether or not the world would ever go back to the normal that you both had known prior to March 2020.

Wetting your lips, you leaned back against the desk chair and cradled the mug in both hands. “Well, have fun with whatever you’re doing,” you said, keeping your voice light so he wouldn’t notice the shift in your mood.

It was suddenly so obvious why he wasn’t saying what he had to do. With the holiday approaching, Changkyun had asked if you had any plans for how to spend the day, and with that came your explanation for why you weren’t overly fond of this particular day. The blind dates that ended terribly and being single had been part of the reason why, but there was one particular instance from the past that was determined to ruin Valentines every year for you.

In all the years, there was one person that you had confessed to on Valentines. Jungkook was someone you considered a friend, but you had only told him the truth to get him to shut up about his girlfriend. Up until that afternoon she had been the ex that, from your understanding, despised being in the same room as him anymore. According to him, she showed up at his place with the usual, ‘I miss you,’ and ‘let’s try again,’ and somehow that all managed to lead to wild and hot passionate sex that was, ‘insanely good.’

If only that had been it.

Whether Jungkook got caught up in reliving the moment and forgot who he was talking to, he gave you a play by play of their reunion. From the way she arrived at his door, to the way she felt around him, he told every detail all while you were on the other end of the phone, fingers twisted and tugging at your hair as you sat on the floor of your childhood bedroom. On all the days, the last thing you wanted to hear was your crush talking about having to move to the living room because his bedroom reeked from all their fucking.

The conversation didn’t last much longer, thank god, but you hadn’t been able to grieve because in the other room mom’s voice could be heard as she talked about her day at work. Instead, you forced back the tears and it took everything to not break down when she smiled and handed you an orange teddy bear holding a red heart that said I love you, along with a bag of Lindt chocolates. She was unaware, and while everyone slept, you buried your face into a couple pillows to muffle the sounds of your crying. You were only eighteen and yet you swore your heart collapsed in on itself before exploding into a million glass shards.

“That fucking dick,” Changkyun had said when you told him.

The screen had been bright as the two of you video chatted, and you rubbed your eyes, tired but not ready to go to sleep. He had been doing the rounds of locking up and shutting off the lights while you spoke, only wearing a thin pair black and blue flannel pants. At least he held the phone pretty leveled so you weren’t forced to stare at his torso, but there had been several times where you found your gaze lingering on his muscular body.

“I mean,” you ran a hand through your hair, shrugging as he looked back at you. “It happens to everyone.”

Changkyun frowned though. “No,” he said, his voice gentle but firm at the same time. “No, it doesn’t. And that shouldn’t have happened to you.”

Blinking, you forced the memory away, shifting in your seat to get comfortable once again. Just because you didn’t enjoy the holiday, or didn’t have anyone to spend it with, didn’t mean that was the case with Changkyun. Why else would he be reluctant to say what his plans were? He was probably just being nice and didn’t want to appear like he was rubbing salt into an old wound that refused to heal.

“Hey,” Changkyun’s voice softened again, and as much as you knew you shouldn’t, you wished that he was here, in the apartment with you for him to hold you. “It’s still early in the morning. For all you know, there’s a Mr. Right, who’s going to stumble into your path today.”

You scoffed, the clicking of your mouse echoing in the bedroom. “I mean, I don’t have plans to go out.”

“Surprises can happen you know.”

“Alright Changkyun,” now that the internet was up, you glanced back at the phone. “I gotta get to work. Stay safe out there.”

“Always am. Talk to you later.”

“Bye.”

There was a pause, and when you looked back over, the call was still going. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for either of you to leave it going while doing work, the silence was never awkward, it was more comforting than anything, but this time there was a sense of something being left un–

“You look pretty today,” Changkyun said suddenly.

Blinking, your fingers tightened around the mouse as your heart raced. “What? You can’t even see me Changkyun.”

“So?”

“I could be wearing my pajamas for all you know,” your voice faltered, and despite the constriction of wearing jeans, you pulled your legs up on to the chair to hug them to your chest.

“I’ve already seen you in your pajamas,” he joked. “You’re still pretty though.”

He was smiling. You knew for certain that he was, and that made your palms turn clammy, forcing you to wipe them against the pant leg.

“Maybe I’m not, wearing clothes?” Internally you slapped yourself, instantly regretting those words, and perhaps your entire existence at this point. It was still early. Instead of work, maybe you could possibly bury yourself under all the blankets and never answer his phone calls again.

Hearing shuffling coming from the phone, you pressed your lips together, not entirely sure if you wanted to hear what he had to say.

“Are you trying to keep me from my plans today?” His voice deepened and if it weren’t for the fact that you were already sitting down, you were certain that you’d be on the floor.

“No, I’m just stupid,” you blurted out, slamming your hand over your mouth.

Changkyun chuckled, and suddenly the phone seemed closer to him because his voice became clearer. “I think you’re trying to seduce me.”

Oh god. No. It was absolutely the other way around. He was the one who had the advantage on his side, between the lip bites and the selfies he sent that captured his jawline that was perfect to cut glass with. Whether it was his godly features, or when the two of you were video chatting and he rolled onto his stomach and face planted himself into the pillow, you fell for him every time.

“Know what?” You rushed to say, ignoring his laughter. “I have work and you have things to do. Stay safe, and I’ll talk to you later. Bye!”

There was no hesitation. This time you slammed your finger on the end call button and for extra measure, tossed it away and on the bed, letting it disappear among the sea of messy blankets.

Shakily sighing, you slid further down in the chair as the edge of the desk pinned your legs to your chest to keep from falling to the ground. He had never said anything like that before. Sure, there were times where he’d see you do something or when you’d ramble on about a show or work, he’d might say cute, but that always felt like an afterthought.

“Damn it Changkyun,” you said, glaring at where you had thrown the phone and hating the fact that his words kept circling around your mind, making you feel incredibly warmer than you had been ten minutes earlier. Hating that while he was probably going to be on a date with some pretty girl who was worth his time, you were at home, working on a Sunday, wishing that the guy you hadn’t even met in person was here and telling you that in-between kisses.

You ran a hand over your face with a groan, fingers of course getting caught in the bun briefly as you sat up. There was work to be done, and with a click of the mouse, the programs you needed quickly opened up. It was fairly easy, and if you focused, would only take an hour, maybe even less to get done. But with Changkyun on the brain, all you wanted to do was curl back up under the messy blankets and daydream about him. About what it would be like to hug him, to hear his voice in person, and perhaps, spend a Valentine’s day with someone who wouldn’t let you down.

That wasn’t going to happen though. It was a daydream and nothing more.

Lacing your fingers together, you quickly turned them inward, groaning in satisfaction at the loud crack that emitted from the joints. Outside the window that the desk was placed in front of, the sun had already begun its descent for the night. The sky was painted in splashes of orange with lazy clouds slipping in, the remaining bits of blue falling steadily behind.

Despite what Changkyun had predicted, he was only partially correct. With him swimming freely in your mind, you had been distracted, lost in a hazy daydream that made it impossible to focus on the graphics that you were trying to finish up. More often than not you stepped away from the desk, feet guiding you to the other room or in small twirls with the faintest lovesick smile. It was impossible to get anything done. So, you said fuck it. It was Sunday after all, and you weren’t expected to have those scheduled to be posted for a few days. Where was the harm in having one day to yourself? One with no work whatsoever to stress you out?

With work out of the way and having no other plans, another cup of coffee had been made and in the spirit of the holiday, your gaze had lingered on the makeup that sat on the dresser. Most of it had gone unused as the weeks melted into months. Tubes of lipstick and eye shadow palettes once loved had been forgotten about, and as you recalled, the brushes that you typically forgot to clean had been washed out of pure boredom. It was with new motivation that you grabbed a majority of the collection and hopped onto the counter in the bathroom, music playing from a playlist filled with songs from your younger years that held nostalgia, and simply played around with the colors.

By the time you were done, an hour had gone by, and you gained two cut creases with glitter, contoured cheeks, painted your lips, and looked like you were ready to go out for a date out in the city to be wined and dined. Instead, you slipped on a pair of fuzzy socks and slid into the kitchen with plans to see what frozen meal the freezer had to offer. If anything, it had the bare bones of a date. The location? Your couch. The hot leading man? Most likely the main character from whatever show you finally decided on after you gave a good scroll through Netflix. All you needed was utter disappointment and it could be considered a success.

You were torn between making the decision for frozen lasagna or chicken Alfredo, but a sudden and loud knock at the door stopped you. Eyebrows pulling in confusion, you carefully set the food on the counter, taking a moment to slip on the mask that you left hanging on the doorknob for situations like this. Not that they occurred often. With the exception of having food delivered, once the world realized that this pandemic wasn’t just a simple flu and doctors encouraged people to stay home, you hadn’t invited anyone over. It was lonely, and you missed your friends and family greatly, but this wasn’t a situation to take lightly.

“I’m sorry,” you said, opening the door once the fabric mask was securely on. “I think you might have the wrong…”

And you stopped. Stopped talking and stared. Stared at the man leaning against your door frame, wearing a black as ink suit jacket, a pristine white button up shirt was tucked into matching black pants, with the top several buttons undone to reveal a tanned and toned chest that you knew he took pride in considering all the gym selfies he sent. The black fabric mask he wore hid most of his face, but the corners of his eyes were crinkled together.

“I think I’m right where I’m supposed to be,” Changkyun said, his deep voice sounding better in real life than you had expected, and dreamed of.

He pushed off of the frame and it was then that you noticed the things in his hands. In the left, was a plastic bag stuffed with packaged containers, and in the right…in his right wrapped in pink tissue paper was a bouquet of red and pink carnations with babies’ breath mixed in. There had to be at least a dozen, perhaps a baker’s dozen, if not a few extra.

There were no words. After all the books you consumed to pass the time, articles you searched for work, and even countless texts sent to friends, everything escaped you at that very moment because he was here. He was actually here and standing in front of you.

“I know you said you haven’t had anyone over since this started. But I got tested a couple days ago, came back negative, and we’ve both been working from home this entire time so if you want…” Changkyun lifted the bag he held into view and this time, you could see that even though it was triple bagged, you were able to make a red dragon printed on the cartons. “I have Chinese food, and I’m willing to bet that Netflix has something for us to watch. If you’re not comfortable though that’s fine. I have plenty of food that we can—”

Except he didn’t get to finish what he was saying before you tugged him into the apartment by his arm. Immediately, your arms wound their way around his waist and you pressed your face into his chest, tightly hugging him.

“It’s you,” you said, feeling his right arm carefully rest on your back to hold you close, all while being mindful of the flowers that he was carrying.

There was a soft chuckle from above as he laid his head on top of yours. “It’s good to finally see you too.”

Smiling, your arms tightened around him once more before you stepped backwards, letting him enter the apartment completely. “You didn’t have to bring flowers you know.”

“And show up empty handed?”

You gestured towards the table for him to set the food down, taking the flowers and going to the sink. “You bought Chinese food. That more than would have made up for no flowers.” But while the vase filled with water and you trimmed the stems, gently adding them in one by one, there was a warmth spreading within your chest that came right from the heart, even more so when he chuckled. The only people to ever buy you flowers on Valentine’s day were your parents.

Like always, the silence that followed felt natural. The only difference was that you were aware that Changkyun was moving around in the kitchen with you, getting plates and silverware out without having to ask where things were because he had seen you do the same thing countless times before while video chatting. You just never thought he was actually paying attention.

When they were all in the vase, you tossed the ends in the trash and turned around, only to see that once again, he was watching you.

“Why are you staring?”

Changkyun shrugged, running a hand through his hair as the black locks fell right back into his eyes. “I was right.”

Tilting your head, you walked over to the table and set the vase in the center. You were already so close to him, but he leaned his head down, the black fabric of his mask brushing against the top of your ear.

“That you look pretty,” he said softly. “And it’s not because of the makeup. I had a feeling you might dress up today; you look beautiful.”

The air that you had been breathing was instantly stolen, and when you made the mistake of looking up at him, you realized just how close the two of you were. If it weren’t for the masks you both wore…

“You don’t look half bad yourself,” you teased, trying to not glance at where his lips would be. “You’re a lot taller than messenger video makes you out to be.”

He rolled his eyes and scoffed. Straightening up, Changkyun slipped his suit jacket off and set it on the back of a chair to undo the buttons on his cuffs, taking the time to roll each sleeve up to his elbows. “You’re meaner in person.”

Good god. You knew that he worked out, but damn. Maybe not for the first couple weeks, eventually Changkyun fell into the habit of sending selfies while he was working out at the gym. It shouldn’t have been a surprise, but seeing his tanned arms and the white sleeve making its way up to his elbow, it sparked the butterflies and gave them a newfound fluttering energy.

“Do you wanna eat or not?” Not thinking of it, you reached up to unhook the elastic from around your ears, removing the mask and setting it back on the counter. With a glance up at him, you saw him raise an eyebrow before he mimicked your movements to take off his own mask, revealing the jaw that tempted your daydreams in more ways than you wished.

He smiled, and you handed him his plate and together, the two of you fixed up heaping plates of Chinese food, using the concept of needing to eat to distract yourself. Everything was still hot and as you settled on the couch, steam curled its way up into the air.

“Were you able to get your secret plans done today?” You asked, glancing over at him while Netflix loaded up on the TV screen.

“Why are you so interested in what I had to do?” He was focused on the dumpling that he held with the chopsticks, not meeting your gaze at all.

It wasn’t that you meant to be focused on that. But he had acted so suspicious on the phone earlier, and now he was here, having dinner in your apartment with enough Chinese food to cost a small fortune, along with sixteen carnations – yes, you counted while cutting them – on Valentine’s Day. There had been no warning, and as much as you wanted to believe that he was here for more than a friendly drop in, the idea of him having been on a date earlier in the day and was here to talk about it, about the possible other girl, killed the butterflies. You had already been through this once, you didn’t want to go through it again. Not with him.

Scrolling through the list of suggestions, you didn’t notice Changkyun looking over at you, or the way his face softened. His fingers tightened around the chopsticks and he leaned back against the cushion.

“What’s that one about?” He nodded towards one of the movies that was in the watch again section.

You raised an eyebrow, scrolling over to it. “Please don’t tell me that you’ve never seen Love Actually?”

“If I did, would I have asked what it’s about?”

Unable to stop yourself, an undignified sound escaped you as you wildly gestured with the remote. “How? It’s like the sweetest romance, Christmas movie ever. They play it every year. It even has Liam Neeson, the man promising to find and kill everyone, as a sweet dad who doesn’t kill anyone! That alone is a true Christmas miracle by itself.”

The thought of him being with someone else dissipated at the sound of his laughter. Even caught up in the excitement of this particular movie, you couldn’t stop the smile that grew. No matter what, even in real life or over video, you always found yourself grinning the second he laughed or smiled. He was without a doubt contagious, in the best way possible.

“What are you waiting for?” He said, gesturing towards the screen with the chopsticks, shoulders relaxing at the sight of your smile and apparent joy for the film. One that he had in fact, seen a few times over the years. “Press play.”

There was no hesitation. You were determined to culture him in what you deemed to be a classic in romance films. So, as you comfortably settled in, belly growing full of warm and delicious food, you once again missed Changkyun’s wide smile. It was the kind of grin that no matter what he did, or how serious he tried to be, simply wouldn’t go away.

The empty dinner plates sat long forgotten about on the coffee table as another movie played, this one involving an action pack fight scene with aliens in New York City. Hours had passed since Changkyun arrived at your door, and despite it growing late and Valentine’s Day was nearing its end, his polished shoes were unlaced and tossed on the floor. A wine bottle had been opened up, and you sat much closer to him to share a blanket with him. You were blaming it on the wine for being so bold because when he stretched an arm on the back of the couch, you didn’t think twice about gently leaning your head against it.

You couldn’t even really blame it on the wine. It was the first glass for both of you, and you were a slow drinker, so you were as sober as a newborn lamb at the moment.

It was just like when the two of you would video chat with the same movie on, but so much better. Having him here, you were noticing the smallest things that you’d miss when on the phone. At the base of his neck was a small mole that you never realized he had, or that he was wearing two thin silver chains – a pair that, now that you thought about it, he never went without. Behind you, he’d occasionally rub his fingers together and the metal of his bracelet would lightly clink against itself. With the few glances that you stole, his attention was solely on the movie and his jaw appeared to be pressed together.

Feeling a sudden weight, you turned to see him settling his arm around your shoulders. His wrist was now hanging over your arm, and it took all your willpower to not reach up with a free hand to lace your fingers loosely with his. When you glanced back up at him, he was in mid sip of his wine, throat bobbing with each swallow.

Shit. This was not helping the butterflies that seemed to have multiplied since his arrival.

Changkyun raised an eyebrow when he lowered his glass, softly humming in question, but you only shook your head and focused back on the movie. Except, now you were hyper aware that he was looking at you this time.

“What’s wrong?” He murmured, his thumb and fingers lightly rubbing against your arm.

That was another thing. His voice was deep. In the calls, the phone occasionally cracked and had made it seem lighter, but it appeared to be just the opposite. He was blessed with a voice that was able to drop lower than a bass, sending your insides to mush when he spoke. It was the type of voice that was destined to recite poetry and old sonnets, to hold three in the morning conversations that went wherever and everywhere. When he called your name, it never failed to send tingles running the length of your body. It was his voice, and you knew that you’d never grow tired of hearing him talk.

“Nothing. I was just thinking,” you said, leaning your head back, his arm comfortable and warm as you looked up at the ceiling, trying to avoid his gaze for a few seconds.

His fingers didn’t stop. The gentle caress, a small reassurance that he was in fact here and this wasn’t your imagination, made it harder to stay where you sat instead of curling into his side like you wanted.

“Thinking about what?”

Letting out a breathless scoff, you tilted your head towards him. Changkyun was a sight to see and you knew that if this was the only time you got to spend with him in person, you were never going to forget this moment.

Your smile softened. “That you’re actually here, after all these months of texts and video calls. You actually came here, and you’re real.”

“Did you think I was a robot or something?” Changkyun teased, but his fingers stopped moving, and that lock of hair fell back into his eyes again.

“Well, you did accidentally call me instead of Jooheon and last time I checked, we look nothing alike.” There was no thinking as you reached up and mimicked his movements to push that damn lock back, feeling how soft his hair was. It brought you a little bit closer to him and in that second, the world suddenly felt like it was no longer moving when you glanced down at his lips. Those pink lips that you wondered and dreamt about night after night, too curious for your own good on what it would be like to kiss him. Now was your chance to find out, especially when he didn’t lean back and appeared to be getting closer.

“Cookies?” You suddenly asked, leaning back to see his eyebrows start to pull together in confusion. Heart racing, you set your wine glass on the coffee table and walked around the couch to step into the kitchen. With only your back to him, you quietly let out a shaky breath. “I know I have some for us to munch on…”

Opening up a cabinet, you stretched on to your toes to search for the package of cookies that you knew were in there, mentally slapping yourself at having done that. He hadn’t backed away, hadn’t tried to stop you, in fact, if you allowed yourself to believe it, you would have recalled that he had started to lean in when you randomly brought up cookies. As much as you wanted to, the last thing you wanted was to lose your friendship.

You were pushing aside a box of crackers when his hand captured your wrist, halting your search. It felt like your heart was about to leap out of its cage when his fingers gently wrapped around your hand, and when his palm settled on a hip, it was equally as comforting as it lit a spark inside you. There was nothing you wanted to do more than to melt into his embrace.

“Sweetheart, do you really think I’m here to just hang out?” He asked, his voice low as he spoke into your ear, his body stepping closer to yours.

“You’re…you’re not?” You weakly asked, nervous because you didn’t want this all to be a joke.

The idea of this being a one night only thing thanks to the holiday left an ache in your bones. You wanted more nights like this with him, wanted to hear him call out your name with that gentle smile of his over and over again. Dammit, you wanted to wake up and have the blankets be stifling hot but not care as you crawled over to his side of the bed, searching for morning cuddles because fuck the person who decided that the workday would start at eight in the morning. The only person you wanted to spend this quarantine with, to be able to touch, to be worried and even scared about all this with, was Changkyun.

Changkyun’s breath hit the back of your neck as he softly chuckled, sending a shiver down your spine. “God, I thought I was being obvious. Let me try this differently.”

Still holding on to your wrist, he turned you around and once you were facing him, let go of your hand to step closer until your back was against the counter. With each breath your chest brushed against his, and when he pushed the hair that had fallen in your face behind your ear, fingers brushing against your cheek, you almost forgot to breathe.

“I know you’ve always had a pretty crappy Valentine’s day,” Changkyun softly spoke. His gaze was steady with yours, and even though he was being serious, there was a softness to his features that had the corner of his mouth curling upwards. “And I thought that the best way to keep that from repeating this year, would be if you spent it with someone, who loves you.”

Who loves…oh.

It suddenly all made sense. Why he didn’t want to say what he was doing to celebrate, him calling you pretty, the food and flowers, the coaxing touches, he could have rented a billboard and put up a neon flashing sign and you probably still would have been blind.

“Changkyun,” you whispered, reaching up to cup his cheek.

He softly smiled as he closed the remaining space between you to rest his forehead against yours, his palms sliding along your body until he had you wrapped in a hug. “There you go, now you get it.”

Giggling, you rolled your eyes out of habit. It was like him to be a smart ass during a moment like this. With that being said, the butterflies fluttered their way up to your heart, and all the daydreams that you entertained and thought nothing would come of them, now had the possibility of becoming reality.

“I love you too,” you said, running your thumb along his cheek as you watched his smile widen.

There was no hesitation, or smart ass comments this time. Instead, when his lips met yours in a kiss, your heart stopped racing. The butterflies finally calmed down and the world around you went out of focus as your fingers slid through his hair. His lips were soft, and thanks to the red wine, there was a lingering tangy sweetness that reminded you of raspberries. You found yourself becoming addicted to his taste, the kisses melting together until you lost track of how long the two of you stood there, content with doing nothing but being wrapped up in each other’s embrace.

A clock chimed out in the apartment, breaking the kiss which only served to make you pout at the loss of his lips. The gesture didn’t go unnoticed by Changkyun, who smirked before leaning down to give one more kiss, which quickly turned into two, then three.

“Don’t you have work in the morning?” He murmured, resting his forehead once more against yours.

“You trying to kiss and dash?”

His fingers gently pressed into your sides and you squirmed at his touch, giggling at his antics. However, he leaned his head back and sighed. “Like hell I’d do that. But you usually wake up earlier for work, and trust me, I’ll end up keeping you awake if I stay the night.”

There was no doubt about that, and to be truthful, you’d have no issue if that was the case. He was right, but as ideas turned in your mind, you shrugged. “You can’t go out driving though,” you said softly. “You were drinking.”

Changkyun frowned, head tilting as he removed a hand from your back to run through his hair. “Not even a whole glass.”

You raised an eyebrow. It took him having to say he loved you for you to understand how he felt about you despite his dine and wine attempt, and here he was, completely missing what you were suggesting. Either you were absolutely perfect for each other, or equally dense.

“Well, we also broke quarantine,” you said slowly, slipping a finger through his belt loop at the same time to bring him closer. “Isn’t the recommendation to stay at home for what, at least three days?”

He started to tilt his head, mouth opening to question what you were saying until he saw the smile growing on your face. Closing his eyes, he pressed his lips together before looking back at you.

“That was horrible,” Changkyun said. He slipped his arms back around you, pulling you away from the counter. His grin said otherwise. “At least I tried being romantic.”

“Well, I mean, if you really want to go back to your place by yourself…”

He didn’t let you say another word, his lips reclaiming yours again, because there was absolutely nothing that felt better than kissing you after months of dreaming what it would be like.

“Don’t go,” you softly murmured against his lips. “Not when you just got here.”

Maybe it was selfish. But you didn’t want to be alone again. Not when he had gone through so much trouble to make this night special, not when you finally knew that he felt the same way about you. After almost a year of staying inside the apartment whenever you could, of going without hugs or get togethers, being able to touch and kiss Changkyun felt like you were relearning what those were all over again. All you wanted was a few days with him.

Changkyun hummed, his arms tightening around you. “Sweetheart, I wasn’t planning on going anywhere,” he said, gazing down at you as if he had considered the same thing.

The clock that had rang out to announce the hour of a new day and that Valentine’s day was over, continued to quietly tick in the other room. The Earth continued to spin, and outside, the world was exactly how it had been this morning, full of fear, what ifs, and the unknown of a pandemic that didn’t seem to be going anywhere any time soon.

But inside that small apartment, wrapped in Changkyun’s arms, giggles and laughter filled the walls when he pulled you to the middle of the kitchen and spun you around for a late-night dance. It might not be the thing that changes the world, but for the first time, in a long time, hope began to blossom alongside the butterflies in your stomach. The memories of past Valentine’s days melted away at his kiss, until only the memory of him at your door remained.

Even when it hadn’t felt like it, love and hope had always been there. And now it was here promising lovelier days to come.

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