#hell she doesn’t even say my name before double checking my name tag

[bisexuallsokka]

fascinated with my coworker who hasn’t seen atla in like fifteen years and yet i successfully converted her to zukka nation before realizing how much blind faith she had in me and i think i accidentally led her to believe that sokka and zuko canonically are izumi’s dads

[runraerun]

-> Part 2

**NOW WITH ART!

(Everyone go shower @stervrucht with love & reblogs because she is a treasure to this fandom and her generosity knows no bounds🖤thank-you bestie!)

AO3 | WC: 7.8k | Rated: E | CW: Internalized homophobia, references to the death of a parent, lots of swearing and general vulgarity from the both of them. Drug usage. Discussions of trading sex acts for drugs. Billy being an asshole but hey what’s new. | Tags: ADHD Eddie Munson, Semi-closeted Eddie, Fully-closeted Billy, One-Sided Steddie (or is it? We don’t know because of unreliable narrator reasons) Bully Billy Hargrove, Bullied Eddie Munson, Coming In Pants, Dry Humping, Eddie calls Billy ‘m’lord’ in here god help him, Happy Ending, some angst sprinkled throughout, but overall quite fluffy.

(Title is inspired by a song of the same name by Chromeo.)

Summary:

“I’ll cut you a deal, Munson,” Billy says, his icy-pop blue eyes and dark lashes illuminated by the end of his stolen cigarette. “I’ll let you have something. Y’know, as payment.”

But pretty as Billy is, Eddie’s no sucker. “I don’t do trades either.”

“You’re gonna wanna hear this trade.” Billy exhales a cloud of white smoke between them.

Eddie doubts it, but the sooner he hears it the sooner he can shoot it down. “Spit it out then.”

Billy Hargrove stands there, half-smirk on his face, hips tilted forward. Like he’s God’s fucking gift. “I’ll let you suck my dick.”

And that.

Well.

Eddie isn’t exactly sure what he was expecting but it sure as hell isn’t that. 

Or, Billy tries to pay for drugs by offering to let Eddie blow him.

Of all the mugs Eddie expects to see in his neck of the woods, the one attached to Billy Hargrove, resident bad boy slash heartthrob with a notoriously short fuse and a mean right hook, is not one of ‘em.

The fact that he’s alone isn’t much of a comfort, but it’s… well, it’s something. It means if Billy’s planning on jumping him and stealing his stash, then at least Eddie’s got a shot at running and actually getting away with all his teeth intact.

Eddie sucks back on his cigarette, grateful he has something to do with his fidgeting hands as he eyes Hargrove’s approach. Tries his best to keep still—something he’s always been absolute dog shit at. Even as a little kid. They tossed words at him like Attention Deficit Disorder and Hyperactivity ’til the cows came home. Never changed anything, though. Mom always just called it ants in his pants. For Uncle Wayne, it was worms up his butt. All said in love, of course. Eddie was ant and worm-free, far as he knew. Just had a lot of energy is all. And a lot to say too. That isn’t a crime! But right now, under Billy Hargrove’s slow approach, he tries his damndest to get all his ants and his worms to settle down. No sudden moves in front of ticking time bombs.

“You’re Munson, right?” Hargrove asks in a low, slightly nasally voice. He’s stopped a few feet from the picnic table that Eddie’s perched on, his canister of goodies sitting unassumingly beside him.

Eddie fights his nerves—bulldozes over them, more like, and smiles wide, holding out his arms in a display of showmanship. “The one and only.”

Billy scoffs as his eyes travel around the clearing. Doesn’t seem too impressed by the ol’ Munson razzle-dazzle. “You alone out here?” he asks, eyes finally returning to Eddie’s.

Eddie shifts, leaning forward slightly—literally on edge. Why the hell did he have to say that so fucking ominously? “I was ‘til you showed up,” Eddie answers.

Billy hums noncommittally and doesn’t even try to hide the way he’s looking Eddie up and down. Sizing him up. Double-checking to make sure Eddie’s not a threat, maybe. Eddie fights the urge to duck his head and pull his shoulders in to assure Billy that he isn’t one. He’s a lover, not a fighter. In theory, anyway.

“Now what can I do for you on this fine evening, Mr. Hargrove? I don’t keep everything on me…“ Eddie trails off before he continues, “But I got anything you’d want.”

Billy snorts, “Yeah, I’ll bet.”

“You’re from Cali, right? I got weed from there. Stuff that tastes like blueberries,” Eddie leans forward and bounces his brows, “I got some shrooms from the coast too that could even knock someone like you on your ass. So, what’re you into, Hargrove? What’s your poison?”

Billy’s got an amused look on his face. He’s smirking, but no part of it’s warm or welcoming. It sets Eddie even further on edge than he already had been. “You sure know a lot about me.”

Eddie shrugs, feigning innocence. He takes another pull from his cigarette. “It’s a small town; people talk. Especially around people like me. Y’know, the kinda people who don’t matter in the grand scheme of things. And you, Billy Hargrove, you’re, well…”

Eddie bites his tongue before he continues to embarrass himself. Clears his throat instead, tries to think of something not entirely stupid to say, but the words rush around his noggin so quickly that he can’t seem to catch and pin down any one of ‘em.

The forest floor crunches under the sole of Billy’s heavy black boots as he takes a slow, purposeful step forward. “I’m what, freak?”

Eddie swallows. Feels the hair on the back of his neck stand. Jesus, does this guy ever blink? Fucking blue-eyed people and their zombie stares…

He smiles despite his nerves. Then, with a tilt of his head, he answers. “You’re hard to miss.”

It’s grounds to get punched, Eddie knows. Innocent as the comment is, Eddie’s been hit for less. Shit, he got shoved into a locker for looking too long that one time in middle school. Spent the whole fucking lunch break with no one but his ripe gym socks to keep him company. So yeah, maybe Eddie’s a little jumpy around jocks like Billy Hargrove who look like they could fold Eddie into a pretzel without breaking a sweat.

Billy doesn’t look like he’s gearing up to punch Eddie, though. Not yet anyway. He just looks sort of… amused.

It’s getting late. The sun’s low in the sky, and every few seconds it catches on Billy’s earring or his chain, both temporarily blinding him. Eddie doesn’t let his eyes wander, though. He’s got enough self-discipline for that at least.

“I’ll take some of that blueberry kush,” Billy finally says, checking over his shoulder one last time before he flicks his head towards Eddie. “But I don’t got any money. Not until Monday. I’ll have to owe you.”

“Sorry pal,” Eddie leans back, palms against the flat of the picnic tabletop. He blows the smoke from his cigarette up towards the sky. “I don’t do I.O.U’s.”

The air shifts between them. Eddie can feel it. The blue-eyed zombie stare darkens, and Billy takes another step forward until his hip nearly knocks up against one of Eddie’s bent legs. “What? You don’t think I’m good for it, pal?”

“I don’t know you, man,” Eddie mutters around his cigarette, shifting uncomfortably. He always hates this part of the job. He’s been a punching bag on and off for most of his life, but that doesn’t mean he’s gotta like it.

“You just went on and on about how you did.” Billy spits, and Eddie flinches as it hits his cheek. He doesn’t dare raise a hand to swipe it off though, lest it be interpreted as a move to strike.

“Look, I can hold it for you until Monday, but that’s the best I can do.” Eddie offers, but it’s not enough. He knows it’s not even close to enough. Guys like Hargrove aren’t used to being told no.

“C’mon man, there’s gotta be some deal you can cut me. I just wanna have a good fucking night. You can understand that, can’t you, Munson?” Billy asks, his voice going soft. Smooth. Breathy.

And even though his insides are fucking liquifying in real time as he does it, Eddie shakes his head, his long hair curtaining his face as he does. “Can’t do it, man.”

“Well, maybe I’ll just beat the shit out of you and take your shit anyway, huh? How about that?” Billy asks, his bottom lip caught between especially sharp-looking teeth. Eddie looks up, his dark eyes lock onto Billy’s salt-water blue ones. Stormy fucking seas. Eddie sure as hell doesn’t want to get beat up tonight, but if he starts cutting deals and giving special treatment to everyone who threatens him he’d be intimidated right out of business. And he needs the cash. Can’t leave all the bills to Uncle Wayne.

Before Eddie can think up a clever answer, Billy’s got his head thrown back, and he’s cackling. “Shit, I’m fucking with you, dude. Put that face away. I swear, no one in this fucking town can take a goddamn joke.”

Eddie doesn’t bother defending himself, just takes his cigarette from his mouth, knocks off the ash and gives a shaky exhale before putting it back between his lips. He barely starts in on his next inhale when the damn thing is plucked out of his mouth.

Lightening fast. Eddie hadn’t even seen his hands—but there was his cigarette, half-smoked, between Billy’s lips. Eddie feels his face heat at the idea of Billy’s mouth being where his own was, just a second before.

“Ha ha,” Eddie mutters, his eyes narrowing. He’s feeling somewhat brave, despite feeling distinctly like a mouse that’s being battered by a cat's paw. “Very cute.”

Billy tips his head, accepting the comment as if it were a compliment. He doesn’t give Eddie his dart back though—the guy just keeps smoking it with a swarmy fucking grin on his tanned, well-proportioned face.

Because the truth is that Billy is easy on the eyes. Nice to look at. It’s entirely counteracted by the fact that the longer you look at that aforementioned face the higher your chances are of getting a knuckle sandwich sent hurtling your way… but Eddie’s still got functioning eyeballs. He can see that Billy’s… well. Beautiful.

In a weird way, though. Like how Eddie pictures the elves from Middle Earth might look.

Fucking ethereal and shit.

“I’ll cut you a deal, Munson,” Billy says, blue eyes and dark lashes illuminated by the cherry of that stolen cigarette. “I’ll let you have something. Y’know, as payment.”

But pretty as Billy is, Eddie’s no sucker. “I don’t do trades either.”

“You’re gonna wanna hear this trade.” Billy exhales a cloud of white between them.

Eddie doubts it, but the sooner he hears it the sooner he can shoot it down. “Spit it out then.” He sighs.

But Billy doesn’t ‘spit it out’. Instead, he shifts weight from foot to foot, looking suddenly agitated again. Billy sniffs and scratches his nose with the nail of his thumb. Like he’s tweaking. Eddie waits him out. Curiosity officially piqued.

Finally, after doing his little dance, Billy leans forward, wetting his bottom lip with his tongue. “I’ll let you suck my dick.”

And that.

Well.

Eddie wasn’t exactly sure what he was expecting but it sure as hell wasn’t that.

The shock is written all over Eddie’s face, he’s sure. He’s never been good at concealing his emotions—an open book, his mom called him. Shit liar, is what his dad called him. Either way, he knows the surprise of what Billy’s offered up plays across his face by the way Billy’s eyes dance around it, looking pleased.

“What?” Eddie squeaks out, face suddenly on fire.

“You heard me,” Billy snaps, “I ain’t sayin’ it again.”

Eddie blinks, looks away from Billy Hargrove’s icey freeze-pop eyes. It’s no easy task. “You’ll let me…?”

Eddie motions towards the crotch of Billy’s exceptionally tight jeans. Jeans that leave very little to the imagination, Eddie might add.

Billy grins, his pink tongue caught between his teeth as he leans back, jutting his hips out a little.

“I’ll let you,” he confirms. Standing there like he’s God’s fucking gift.

Though he’s got very little air left in his lungs, Eddie gives a weak scoff. “Shouldn’t this be the other way around?”

And for the first time tonight, Eddie does feel at risk of being sucker punched. Billy’s eyes flare, and just like that his beauty melts into something ugly. Like a spell is cast over him—beauty to beast. “I’m no cock-sucker.” He spits out.

In a show of surrender, Eddie raises his hands. “I didn’t say you were. I just—usually when someone is offering sexual favors it’s… Y’know what? Whatever. Doesn’t matter. I’m not—I don’t trade in pleasures of the flesh, ‘kay? That’s not what I’m doing here, Hargrove. It’s cash only.”

But Billy’s either got a hearing problem or a comprehension problem because he rolls his eyes and just keeps on bartering. “Fine, I’ll give you a handjob. After my blow job.”

Now. Eddie isn’t a prude. In fact, he’s probably something of a pervert if his porno of choice is any indication of that, but this—with Billy?

Eddie’s spent this entire interaction scared fucking stiff, and now Billy’s offering to go and get him into an even more vulnerable position—with Eddie’s pants literally around his ankles?

“No.” Eddie aggressively shakes his head, sending his curls in motion. No no no. Fuck no. As hot as Billy is—no. The decision is final. Take it or leave it, Eddie thinks stubbornly. Heels successfully dug in.

Billy sighs through his nose, takes a step back and chuckles dryly to himself. “I know you’re a queer, Munson. Don’t—!” Billy snaps, pointing a finger in Eddie’s face when he dares open his mouth to deny it, “don’t fucking lie to me.

Eddie swallows, promptly shutting the fuck up.

Is he really that obvious…?

Billy continues, “I know you’re a queer. I saw the way you used to look at Harrington, back when we were all in school together. Gym class,” Billy leans forward, back in Eddie’s space, their shared cigarette bouncing between them as he speaks, “the showers. Remember?”

It’s been a year since Hargrove and Harrington both leap-frogged him out of Hawkins High, diplomas in tow. A full year, but apparently Billy’s got a fucking photographic memory. Eddie feels his t-shirt stick to his back, slick with sweat. “Whatever, man. It’s not a crime to look.”

“It is in this shit hole of a town,” Billy chuckles, dark and humourless, “so you get it now? I know you like dick. And I like pot. So, let’s work something out, here, Munson.”

Billy claps his hands together between them, loud and jarring. “Time’s a’wastin’, amigo!”

Jesus this guy…

“Even if I did like dick,” Eddie tilts his head and scrunches his nose, “it doesn’t mean I want your dick, Hargrove.”

“A dick’s a dick, man. And trust me, I got a nice, big fat one for you to choke on, trust me, you’ll love it,” Billy laughs as he speaks, watching in amusement as Eddie rubs a hand over his heated, blotchy face. “C’mon, you’ve sucked cock before, right?”

The simple answer is yeah, a couple of times. Every time it ended pretty much the same though. With him being shoved off after they’d finished. Being told they weren’t gay, that if Eddie were to ever tell anyone about the encounter they would deny it, call Eddie a liar, or worse, beat the shit out of him.

He’s not a dummy; Eddie knows being queer in Hawkins is a risk, so it made sense to want to keep it hush-hush. Eddie’s the rumoured gay kid, so if you’re gonna experiment with someone, why not let it be with him? But after a handful of times being treated like trash—something people needed to wash their hands in Javex from after simply touching him—he stopped. It didn’t feel good.

“You don’t gotta answer. I already know you have.” Billy mutters, smug. “Mouth like that.”

There’s no way Billy knows, but Eddie ducks his head, tired of how this entire fucking conversation has him feeling like he wants to crawl out of his skin. Tired of how the darker the sky gets, the brighter Billy’s eyes seem to turn.

And what the fuck’s wrong with Eddie’s mouth..?

“Cash only,” Eddie repeats. Monotone. Suddenly overstimulated as fuck.

Billy finally pulls the last bit that he can from the cigarette, down to the butt, before he flicks the remains of it into the grass. He gives one final, frustrated exhale of smoke. “Fine. Jesus, Munson, you drive one hell of a bargain. But I’ll sweeten the deal for you, alright?”

“Jesus, Hargrove, are your ears not working? Or did you get hit one too many times with the basketball during your jock days? I said I’m not interested. In your cock or your hand or whatever else you try and offer up.” Eddie exclaims, voice going high with strain.

But it’s like the more worked up Eddie gets, the more Billy wags his fucking tail. He’s all lit up, shiny white teeth built for puncturing. He gets back to crowding Eddie—Eddie, who’s one hair’s breadth away from raising his hands and shoving this smug asshole away from him, not caring if he gets his ass kicked as a consequence, but then Billy’s talking again. And Eddie… Eddie’s listening.

“We could kiss a little,” Billy drawls out, angling his mouth towards Eddie’s ear. He lets his voice drop to a low rumble, his words vibrating in that wide chest of his. It sends a chill down Eddie’s spine. “Y’know, make out. You got a van, right? Nice and private. You’d like that.”

Eddie turns his head towards Billy, so close they’re nearly touching each other. His mouth hangs open, slack, but Eddie can’t get a fucking word out. His whole fucking life, all he’s ever heard is ‘Jesus, does this kid have an off switch?’ ‘Eddie, give mommy’s ears a break, please,’ ‘Eddie is very disruptive in class with his constant chatting’. And now he can’t make a single goddamn sound!

Billy, on the other hand, seems entirely pleased at rendering the great motor-mouth-Munson to a mute. “I’m a good kisser, too.” He adds, eyes dropping down to Eddie’s mouth. Like he’s gonna do it right here and now. Eddie’s throat clicks when he swallows.

The embarrassing part is that, well—Except his Mom and his Meemaw and his weird cousin that one time, he’s never… y’know. Been kissed.

Sucked cock? Sure, yeah. That ship has sailed. Sayo-fuckin’-nara.

But kissing? On the mouth? Romantically? It hasn’t happened for Eddie yet. Not that any of what Billy’s propositioning here is in any way romantic, of course, but…

Eddie watches as Billy darts a pink tongue out between his lips, wetting them so that they glisten. Jesus Christ. How can he say no to that? Rules or no, Eddie’s only fucking human. Does he not bleed if he’s cut? Does he not get hard if he’s presented with an absolute fucking smoke show like Billy Hargrove offering to make out with him? All for the low low price of his dignity and a couple of ounces?

“You… actually want to?” Eddie frowns, counter to the nervous smile that’s pulling at the corners of his mouth.

Billy clicks his tongue and shrugs a shoulder, eyes scanning the horizon for like, the hundredth time. “What I want is for you to cut me a deal. That’s enough, ain’t it?”

No, is Eddie’s knee-jerk answer. It’s not enough. Not even close. But, maybe the first kiss fantasy he’s got built up in his head wasn’t ever gonna happen. Especially not for someone like Eddie. He’s probably lucky. Billy’s hot. Willing. And Eddie’s… well, there’s not exactly anyone lining up at Eddie’s front door for the pleasure of his company, let’s just say that.

He feels himself nodding before his brain has even had a chance to catch up. “Yeah. Fine. Okay.”

“Yeah?” Billy grins, canines flashing, “Guess I should’ve started with the chick stuff first, huh?”

Chick stuff? Eddie makes a face. Suddenly emboldened, he shoves a hand against Billy’s shoulder, which just makes him laugh harder. “Don’t be a shithead, Hargrove, or deal’s off. Got it? I’ll walk, I swear to Christ!”

Billy doesn’t agree nor does he disagree, he just leers after Eddie like a fucking bonafied weirdo. And as someone who’s all but cornered the market on being a bonafide weirdo, that’s saying something. He hops off the picnic table, scooping up his lunch box of goodies as he does, not daring to turn his back on Hargrove. “I’m parked just through here.”

Eddie starts towards his van, stealing glances over at Billy as he trudges on after him, only a step behind. Just enough to make Eddie nervous. “Don’t you have like, a job?”

“Two of ‘em, actually.” Billy answers, hands stuffed into his pockets. “Why?”

“How do you not have any cash on you?” Eddie asks, blunt as always.

Billy stiffens, just a little. “That’s none of your business, Munson.”

Eddie raises his hands in yet another mock surrender, “sure, whatever. Remain a man of mystery, I don’t care.”

Just seems stupid, is all. Billy must be fucking terrible with money. Probably spends it all on his obnoxiously loud car. Eddie doesn’t voice any of his many theories though. Billy’s covered in live wires, and Eddie’s not overly eager to start touching and testing ‘em.

The woods aren’t especially dense, but it’s new growth—the old forest chopped down a few decades back and left to grow back all weedy and skinny. There’s lots of branches to duck under along with dirt holes to roll your ankles in. Eddie knows his pathway like the back of his hand by this point, but Billy; not so much. There’s a bundle of eye level branches that always used to smack Eddie in the face when he was focused on his footing, so he makes sure to turn and holds the offending branches back for Billy so he doesn’t totally eat it.

Thinking back, maybe it’s a weird thing to do for another guy, but Eddie’s radar for what’s weird and what isn’t has been busted since he first got cut out of his mom. Always difficult, even back then.

So yeah, Eddie doesn’t get a thank you, or whatever—instead Billy just eyes him with an air of suspicion as he ducks under Eddie’s arm. Like he’s waiting for Eddie to let the branches go or something. Who knows.

Either way, it’s the last great hurdle before they’re back at Eddie’s van, which is right where he left her; parked in the middle of the small gravel lot behind the watershed. Nobody came back here, especially not at night.

His hands shake when he takes out his keys, feeling Billy’s eyes on him. Briefly wonders what kind of mess was waiting for them in the back, but whatever. It’s not like Billy’s expecting The Ritz.

He gets the doors unlocked, and because he’s a gentleman, he holds the door open for his hook-up.

Despite his nerves rattling around under his skin, Eddie gives a little flourish for good measure, holding out an arm for Billy to take. “After you, m’lord.”

Billy scoffs, blue eyes rolling back in his head. And as dim as the light is, Eddie swears he can see two pink spots form on the apples of Billy’s cheeks. He counts it for a win.

“You’re so fuckin’ weird.” Billy mutters as he crawls into the back of Eddie’s van, pointedly ignoring Eddie’s offered arm, the whole thing shifting with the heft of him.

“Wow, y’know what, Hargrove, I had never heard that one before.” Eddie says, hot on Billy’s heels. He swings the door shut behind him.

The back of Eddie’s van is pretty spartan, but only because he’d just finished using it to lug a shit ton of gear to and from a Corroded Coffin gig. What’s left behind is a couple of ratty blankets, some old sweaters, a scattering of sheet music and some candy bar wrappers. It could be neater, but overall it’s not terrible.

Billy sits with his back to one side of the van, his legs spread, knees bent. He sits like a man. One used to taking up room and not apologizing for it. Eddie backs himself up against the opposite wall of the van’s interior, knees bent to his chest, legs crossing at his ankles. There’s not much light back here, but Eddie’s eyes adjust quickly to spot Billy’s agitated-looking face.

“Well?” Mr. California barks, one of his legs begins bouncing restlessly. It shakes the whole van.

Eddie swallows, “well?”

“Where’s the weed?” Billy asks.

Oh.

Right. Wake up, Munson.

Eddie scrambles to get his feet back under him before he squeezes his upper half into the front of the van, reaching into the glove box to grab a baggie.

“Here y’go.” Eddie winces as he pulls himself back through. He sits on bent legs, closer to Billy now. He bestows upon him the sacred sandwich baggy of goods. “Premium blueberry kush, 100% indica. So it’ll mellow you right out. Not that you need to chill out, of course, but, y’know. It should, in theory, help with that scary vein you get in your forehead sometimes.”

Billy glares at Eddie as he swipes the bag out of his hands, the scary vein threatening to make an appearance right there and now. He turns that glare toward the bundles of dried herbs.

“You got a bong or a pipe or somethin’?” Billy mumbles.

“Duh,” Eddie scoffs, breathing entirely too hard, “Why?”

“What’d’ya mean, ‘why?’ To smoke this shit with.” Billy gives the baggy a few vicious shakes in front of Eddie’s face.

Eddie feels his eyes cross as he follows the weed. “Right now?”

“Unless you feel like rollin’ it.” Billy shrugs, sounding like his already thin patience is beginning to wear even thinner.

“No—uh, I just thought you’d wanna smoke at home or whatever.” Not with Eddie.

A crease forms between Billy’s eyebrows as he frowns. “What, you don’t wanna smoke with me, Munson?”

Eddie snorts, shakes his head, “hey, I’ll smoke with anyone—“

“Then shut the fuck up and get the bong already!” Billy shouts, fuse burnt down to the quick.

And if there’s one thing about Eddie, is he responds well to yelling. Or, not well, per se, but shouting always seems to snap him out of whatever fog he’s in. It works on him. So, yeah, he responds. Jumps to attention. His mom used to have to snap her fingers in front of his face to ‘bring him back’, she said. No one else seems to bother with that sort of gentle touch with Eddie though, except Uncle Wayne, but he usually just gives Eddie’s hair a tussle instead of a snap.

So back to the front he goes, sliding the keys into the ignition and starting the old girl up while he’s there so that they’ve got some music to fill the silence. And if memory serves him correctly, Billy’s got pretty decent taste, music-wise.

When he sits back down, bong in hand.

“Ta-da!” Eddie sings, holding the contraption up by the neck to Billy in victory, careful not to tip it over. Billy looks entirely unimpressed as he grabs it out of Eddie’s hand and slots it between his thighs.

Lucky bong.

Billy starts grinding up some pieces between his fingers and packing the bowl with a familiarity that Eddie can respect.

Technically, it’s still Eddie’s weed that Billy’s prepping, since he hasn’t exactly gotten payment for the pot yet, but… maybe Billy needs the vapour courage before he can face the idea of kissing another dude. Of kissing Eddie.

Eddie watches from behind the hair he’d let fall in his face as Billy lights the bowl, inhales, and takes a hit. It’s sort of pretty, the way he slowly exhales the smoke out of the side of his mouth. Away from Eddie.

Then the bong is being pressed into his hands. Eddie’s turn.

He takes a rip, then another one once Billy’s taken another hit of his own, and that’s all it takes for the both of ‘em to get laid out on their asses. They end up flat on their backs, the round part of their shoulders touching, both staring up at the ceiling of the van, with rolled-up sweaters and blankets under their heads in the way of makeshift pillows. They’re the kind of high where time feels like it’s barely moving. Something made up. A concept. Like there’s a very real possibility that Eddie and Billy have been lying here for an eternity, and then some.

And Eddie still hasn’t gotten any kisses from Billy.

But he also hasn’t gotten any punches by Billy either, so there’s that…

“You ever seen the ocean, Munson?” Billy murmurs in a voice that’s gone a little rough thanks to all the smoke still floating around the van. Now successfully hot-boxed. Drawing out their high.

Eddie’s arms feel heavy. “No.”

Billy turns his neck to look at Eddie like he’s re-evaluating his idea of him paired with this new, disappointing information. Eddie turns his head away from Billy, just a little, feeling weirdly embarrassed. “Never even left the state.”

Small town, trailer trash… that’s probably what Billy thinks of him. Billy, who’s been everywhere. Especially compared to Eddie. He expects to get laughed at, but Billy keeps surprising Eddie. He just looks… bummed out.

“You’d probably hate it,” Billy states, sure of himself, eyes dancing across Eddie’s face. “You’d burn right fuckin’ quick. Get sand all up in your shorts. D’you even know how to swim?”

“A little.” Eddie means to say defensively, but it comes out as little more than a sigh.

“Not in waves, though, I bet. You’d end up swallowing your weight in seawater before I hauled your ass out,” Billy’s smiling at the strange little fantasy where Eddie’s tormented by the elements. Eddie’s giggling along too, though he’s entirely unsure as to why.

“A crab might even,” lighting fast, Billy reaches over to punch the barely-there roll on Eddie’s stomach, “get’chya.”

Eddie yelps—or maybe he squeals. He can’t be sure. Either way, whatever sound he lets out isn’t in any way charming or cute. Which; no surprise there. Instinctually, his hand’s gone and encircled itself around Billy’s wrist, but he’s too fucking blitzed out to do more than just squeeze it, trying to appear threatening. Sort of tough when you can’t stop fucking giggling. “Stop, stop—I’m gonna piss myself, dude.”

Billy’s got his tongue caught between his teeth, laughing along, low and rough in his throat, but to his credit (and probably a desire not to be covered in piss) he releases his hold on Eddie’s stomach.

They settle back on their backs, one Metallica track leading into another. It’s the only way Eddie can be sure the clocks haven’t all stopped entirely. Proof the passage of time is still in working order. He exhales in relief, staring at Billy’s profile.

For someone so fucking scary, he’s got deceptively cute features. An honest-to-Christ button nose, along with some ridiculously long eyelashes. Golden ringlets fall around his face. Freckles too, all over his cheeks. Even a Cupid’s bow. When Billy fell from heaven, he didn’t hit like, a single ugly branch on his way down.

Eddie blinks before his brain catches up with what he’s looking at; Billy, staring back at him. When did Billy turn his head? How long have their eyes been locked? A second? A year? Time’s fucking with him so hard, Jesus…

“M’not really an outdoorsy kinda guy.” Eddie admits, unable to keep from smiling.

Because of the weed.

Billy gives a lazy snort as if what Eddie had just said was the understatement of the year. “That’s weird, because you kinda look like a bug.”

It shouldn’t make him laugh as hard as it does, but Eddie feels the rumble of it in his chest, and he can’t help but let out a series of very unflattering sounding laughs. Billy’s not laughing along, but he seems entirely entertained by Eddie’s fucking display.

When he finally catches his breath, Eddie indignantly squeaks out, “How do I look like a bug?”

“Because,” Billy flicks his chin towards Eddie’s face, teasing half-smile still firmly in place, “you got them big buggy eyes.”

Eddie blows a low-energy strawberry, rolling his eyes before they land back on Billy. Can’t seem to take his eyes off of him for long. “I’ll have you know that my ‘big buggy eyes’ are my best feature.”

Billy narrows his eyes, clearly amused. “You think so?”

“I know so. It’s what everyone tells me.” Eddie widens his eyes to drive the point home.

Everyone being his mom when she was still alive, and… well, just his mom. But she was a real smart lady. And like, super pretty. A total knock-out. She knew about this sort of thing. He remembers how she used to go on and on about his big brown puppy-dog eyes, about how they’d break hearts one day. And no one, especially not Billy Hargrove, can take that away from him. Even if it is something all moms say to their funny-looking kids.

“Well, everyone’s lying to you,” Billy says, in that casually cruel way of his.

Eddie drops his jaw in an exaggerated show of the offense. “Is that so?”

“Yep,” Billy confirms, smug. A true blue asshole; through and through. “Your best feature’s your lips, no question.”

And. Well, no one’s ever said anything about his lips before. Not his mom, not his hook-ups—no one.

They’re just… lips. Not especially big or small. Kind of right in the middle. They’re even kinda chapped right now.

“Gee, thanks.” He murmurs, from lips that Billy Hargrove apparently approves of. Maybe even likes. His fingers twitch at his sides, palms growing sweaty.

Billy just looks away, like Eddie’s caught him doing something wrong. Caught him being nice. Guess it probably hurts the ol’ bad boy image to compliment other boy’s lips. Eddie resists the urge to raise one of his hands and feel along the ridges of his mouth, to map ‘em out. Try and figure out what Billy likes about them enough to say it out loud. He’s buzzing with the compliment.

“So, you still want… y’know, payment or whatever?” Billy asks, keeping his words to little more than a low murmur between them.

The song playing through the speakers stops—a brief pause before it leads into the next one. It’s deathly quiet in those tense few seconds.

Eddie doesn’t answer Billy right away. He can’t. So instead, he just… lets the questions hang between them. Because the thing is, God help him, he does. And yeah, maybe he didn’t plan on his first kiss being with big bad Billy Hargrove—maybe instead of golden curls and freckles Eddie had envisioned dark, fluffy hair and a splattering of moles. Big brown bedroom eyes instead of sharp, icy blue ones. Either way, he’s way out of his depth. Out of his league. In fact, Eddie should be on his hands and knees thanking Billy for even considering sucking face with a guy like him. He should be psyched. And he is!

Fuck, this weed is making it hard to keep his thoughts linear. He stares back at Billy, realizing suddenly that he’s been waiting for an answer to his question.

“Nothing is ever free, Hargrove,” Eddie answers, cryptic, even to his own ears, “you should know that.”

Because it’s the truth, isn’t it? Nobody just does shit out of the goodness of their hearts. Everyone expects something in return. Everyone’s gotta pay the piper. And if something seems too good to be true, then it probably is. So yeah, Eddie gives what he can, but he also takes what he can get. Same as Billy, Eddie suspects.

Billy’s got a real perplexed sort of look on his face. Golden and tan, even in the cold, sterile light of night. His eyes momentarily dart to Eddie’s lips, just for a split second. But split second or no, Eddie’d caught it. The tiny motion sends his beat-up little dime-store heart all a’flutter. Billy likes these lips.

“Close your eyes,” Billy tells him, voice cigarette rough.

Eddie does it, trying to keep his breathing even. Shallow, so he doesn’t puff hot air in Billy’s face when he approaches. His hands lay limply by his sides, with his hair splayed around his like some expanding ink blot on the floor of his van.

He has the sudden and quite frankly embarrassing image of Snow White lying dead in her glass coffin, pale-skinned and raven-haired, waiting for a kiss of her own.

It’s so stupid that he ends up snorting.

“What? You think this is funny, Munson?” Billy growls, voice sounding like it’s still to the right of him, but that he’s propped up on an elbow or something.

Eddie shakes his head, keeping his eyes closed. A smile tugs at one of the corners of his mouth, totally beyond his control. “No, no, it’s stupid. I. Just—fuck. Sorry. Forget I did that.”

“If you think this is stupid, then I can go. I don’t need this shit—“

”No! Stop—“ Eddie reaches out and grabs the front of Billy’s shirt, his eyes popping open in panic. “You’re not stupid—I’m… shit, you’re gonna laugh.”

“Just tell me, shithead.” Billy snaps, face getting more and more red as his temper rises.

“Fine. Jesus.” Eddie squirms under the intensity of Billy’s gaze. All hard edges and intimidation now. Eddie’s only had the Billy that tickles him and tells him nice things about his lips for a fucking millisecond, but he already misses him.

“I’ve never kissed anyone before, alright?” He blurts out, quick like a bandaid.

And with that, Billy’s eyes go a little funny. The icey shards in his eyes melt back to tumultuous waters. “Seriously?”

“No, dude, I’m lying about being a total loser with no game.” Eddie snorts, emboldened by his buzzing high.

Billy frowns, “Aren’t you like, two years older than me?”

“Look, I had opportunities, okay? But mostly… It was, y’know. With girls. Pretty ones, too!” his brows shoot up, attempting to emphasize the point, “but I just… I never wanted to.”

Billy’s stone-still while he listens. Looking like he’s hanging off every word that Eddie’s stumbling over.

“So, you can’t even fake it?” He asks.

Eddie blinks, suddenly lost. “Fake what?”

“Liking chicks.” He answers quickly.

“Nah,” Eddie huffs out a laugh and shakes his head, “I’m a shitty liar.”

“Poor bastard.” Billy mumbles, mostly to himself. Then he clicks his tongue, “That’s a real tough break, amigo.”

Eddie’s shoulders twitch. “I get by.”

A corner of Billy’s mouth turns down and he tilts his head like he’s allowing Eddie some small, indiscernible mercy.

“I just feel bad,” Billy says, low and smooth, “you starting at the very top like this. Everyone else after me is gonna feel like a major fuckin’ letdown.”

Eddie snorts, looking up at Billy, who’s got himself propped up on an elbow and is sort of hovering above him. “Big talk, Hargrove.”

Canines flash. “Well I got a big game, Munson.”

“You’re a real cocky b—” Eddie’s words are smushed back into his mouth when Billy suddenly leans forward and presses his lips against Eddie’s.

Billy’s got a hand against Eddie’s neck, the pad of his thumb against the edge of his jaw, tilting his face up just so. Eddie can hear his heart thundering in his chest, white noise overtaking For Whom the Bell Tolls.

His first kiss.

It’s warm and soft. Drier than he expected it would be. The stubble of Billy’s moustache scrapes against his upper lip, sending shockwaves up and down Eddie’s spine. Billy smells like cologne. Or maybe that’s aftershave—he can’t tell. Eddie fills his lungs with it, breathing deeply through his nose.

The thumb resting against Eddie’s jaw begins stroking along his cheek. Delicately. Like Eddie’s something fragile. Precious, even. He’s gone all tingly everywhere Billy touches him—like magic.

It’s about this time that Billy parts his lips, sliding a tongue along the seam of Eddie’s mouth, gentle prodding—like he’s looking for a weak point. Somewhere to gain entry.

Or maybe he just wanted to taste Eddie’s lips.

Hey, can’t a guy dream?

Billy shifts his weight, further encroaching into Eddie’s personal space, his broad shoulders caging over top of Eddie’s narrower ones. Then Billy raises a leg and swings it over before letting his hips drop over top of Eddie’s own. It’s like touching a fucking live wire. He can’t help the way he reflexively gasps and bucks up into the solid bulk above him. And sweet Jesus Mary and Joseph… he’s rock fucking hard in his jeans. When did that happen?

Flood gates open. Billy—clearly emboldened by the discovery of what he’s doing to Eddie’s body—deepens their kiss by sticking his tongue down Eddie’s throat. The sensation is weird as hell—Eddie’s only ever had his own tongue in his mouth, but there Billy’s is, swirling around, dipping in and out as the sound of their smacking lips fills the van, harmonizing with Hammett‘s insane, face-melting guitar solo.

There are teeth involved now too; Billy’s biting Eddie’s lower lip and pulling, stopping right before it gets painful. It brings sounds out of Eddie that he’d never heard himself make before. Didn’t even know that he could make. All breathy and moany. Maybe he should be embarrassed about how loud he’s progressively getting, but it’s hard to think straight when Billy’s slowly grinding his hips down against his. And Billy’s—fuck, Billy’s hard too. That’s gotta be what that is, right? Jesus H. Christ…

Their hips move in tandem now, the same way their tongues seem to. It’s like Eddie’s body just knows what to do. It’s fucking incredible. He’s never been naturally good at anything in his life. Nothing comes easily to Eddie Munson. Every talent he’s got has been hard-fought, earned through blood, sweat and tears.

But this… Eddie might actually be kinda good at this.

Or maybe Billy’s just a really good teacher.

He’s a cocky asshole, but Eddie fears he might have been serious about everyone else being a letdown after him. Because how the hell is anyone else going to compare to this? To Billy Hargrove. Mr. California King. Eddie could swear he’s glowing right now—like Billy’s spent so much time laid out in the sunlight that a couple of rays got trapped just underneath his skin. Dude can’t help but shine.

Yeah, he’ll be a tough act to follow.

But that’s another Eddie’s problem. Future Eddie. Meanwhile, the here and now Eddie, is getting kissed. He’s got Billy’s big arms wrapped around him, like Eddie’s somehow worth something to someone like him.

Down south, there’s just the right amount of pressure on his denim-trapped dick. He can feel the line of Billy’s own cock bump against his own when he pushes hard enough. He could fucking weep. It’s almost too much—too good. Too perfect. What’s he gonna do with himself now that he knows he could be doing this? God, how’s he ever gonna jerk off when this—when Billy… oh fuck-!

His orgasm hits him like a goddamn freight train. The switch on his brain had gone off and it didn’t even have the courtesy of letting him know!

Eddie’s jaw drops open, mid-kiss, and he pants—moans—into Billy’s mouth. His hips go stiff, stuck in its lifted position, trying to drive upwards into Billy as hard as he can. He can feel himself shake all over as the waves crash over him, one after the other in quick succession, nearly whiting out his vision. He shuts his eyes as he finally comes down on the other side of it, releasing a choked-sounding exhale.

He goes limp. Boneless. Buzzing and tingling and vibrating all over. Waits for the feeling of mortification to overtake him. It should be here in 3… 2…

“Did you just…?” Billy asks, lifting his own hips to examine the scene of the crime. Eddie imagines the wet spot steadily growing on the front of his jeans, a little off to the left, is pretty hard to miss.

“Holy shit, you did,” Billy chuckles, slightly awed sounding, “you just creamed your fuckin’ pants.”

Eddie whimpers. The sharp contrast of absolute bone-deep humiliation paired with the fluttery, intensely content feeling he's still got working its way through his nervous system is enough to make his head spin.

“Sorry.” Eddie blinks his eyes open.

Eddie didn’t think it was possible for Billy to look any more smug than he did before, but somehow, he’s achieving the impossible.

“Don’t be,” Billy insists, a chuckle still at the edge of his words. He grunts a little as he rolls off of Eddie and drops down onto his back. Taking up his previous position of laying shoulder to shoulder next to each other. “I take it as a compliment.”

It’s kinda sweet of him. Because what happened was embarrassing. No two ways about it. Shooting off like that, like Eddie’s some horn dog who can’t control himself?

But, well, if the boot fits…

Billy reaches down and roughly adjusts himself before sitting up. Gentle touches all used up for Eddie, apparently. Then he lifts his ass just enough that he can slide a hand behind him to retrieve a crumpled-looking box of Marlboro reds. Shakily, Eddie sits up too, engaging muscles that still feel jello-like.

Billy knocks out a cigarette and puts it between his lips. Then he knocks out a second one, and without asking, puts it in Eddie’s mouth. Billy leans forward, and Eddie mirrors him—still just trying to keep up—moving until the ends of their cigarettes line up. Billy ignites his lighter, temporarily blinding them both, but he holds it in front of them, and they inhale in tandem.

Smoke fills Eddie’s lungs. The familiar, soothing burn in his throat makes him feel a little more solid. Present. It makes what just happened all the more bewildering.

They smoke in silence.

Well, except for the music from his cassette still humming from the speakers. Billy mumbles something about loving a certain drum solo, but other than that, it’s crickets. It goes on like this until their cigarettes are half their original size and Eddie finally grows a pair.

“What about you?” He murmurs around his dart.

Billy exhales a stream of smoke out of his nose, looking like a sick ass dragon before he answers, “What about me?”

Eddie flicks his chin towards Billy’s general direction. “You wanna get off too?”

Billy just snorts and shakes his head, like Eddie had said something prosperous. “Nah.”

A pit forms in the center of Eddie’s gut. Souring any of the leftover post-nut happy chemicals that were still rolling around his noggin. That sting of rejection. The knowledge that Billy doesn’t actually want someone like Eddie touching him. Like Billy’s itching to go take a shower and wash all the Eddie-cooties off of him, before heading back to his actual life. Like being with Eddie is something embarrassing. It’s a sinking fucking feeling, one he knows no post-high buzz or cigarette is going to touch. Sometimes Eddie forgets that he’s just a detour. Never anyone’s destination point.

“Maybe next time.” Billy mumbles, so low that Eddie almost misses it entirely. He finishes his cigarette before stuffing the butt of it into one of the many makeshift ashtrays Eddie’s got kicking around back here. Then he starts making his way to the back doors, slipping out into the Indiana night.

Next time.

The words echo in Eddie’s head. Bounce off the walls, does couple of cartwheels, spins. The letters get all scrambled up before he’s able to make sense of them.

Next time.

“Pleasure doing business with you, California.” Eddie hollers out a split second before Billy can close the door.

A half-smile forms on that Cupid’s bow-tipped mouth. Pretty as a picture. How did Eddie never notice before? And how’s he supposed to think about anything else?

“See you around, Eddie.” He purrs, knows exactly what he’s doing, Eddie’s sure of it—then slams the door shut between them. He’s engulfed in darkness again. His eyes are back to their unadjusted state, while specks of nothing flit across his blackened vision. He gnaws on his bottom lip to keep the laugh that’s threatening to bubble up from his chest at bay.

Next time.

—

Permanent Tag List: (dm me if you’d like to be added or removed—OR if you’d only like to be tagged for specific ships. ie, ONLY Steddie or ONLY Harringrove, etc.)

@stervrucht @dame-zoom-a-lot @lawrencebshoggoth @morallyundefined @thepossummoldypasta @wheneverfeasible @sanctumdemunson @chaotic-waffle @bookworm0690 @lifelessstar

[autumnalwalker]

Find the Word Tag

Thank you for the tag, @ahordeofwasps.

My words to find were never, night, nail, & need.

Passing the (optional) tag to @theimperiumchronicles, @sarahlizziewrites, @druidx, @blind-the-winds, and the usual open tag to anyone else who wants to join in.

Your words to find shall be muscle, morning, matter, & message.

Never: Empty Names - 23 - Compression

She waits a second for any objections and then places her palm on the bare skin between his shoulder blades.  He’s warm.  She feels the surrounding muscles reflexively tense on contact and then slowly relax.  He’s all muscle beneath the robes, but it feels different from what she’s felt through Eris’s tank tops when pulled into an embrace.  Leaner.  Less bulk but still toned.  She’s heard of mages tapping into their own metabolism for fueling magic to burn excess fat and retain figures in defiance of diet, but that doesn’t build muscle mass.  The skin on his back and arms doesn’t look like it could ever be anywhere near as sickly pale as hers is, but it is noticeably lighter than his hands and face, even accounting for makeup.  She wonders when the last time was that he wore anything with short sleeves.  Does he even have other clothes?  She’s never seen him wear anything else.  

Still less distracting without the robe on than with.  Probably says more about her than him.  Do all wizard robes on Orthon look like sleek dresses with wide sleeves, or is it just because he copied his mentor’s style?

Night: Empty Names - 23 - Compression

“No vertigo, nausea, or other adverse reactions to the counterseal,” Ashan reports once he and his double return to Lacuna.  “This illusion feels as natural to create and control as my conjurations.”  He glances over at said illusion practically bouncing up and down in excitement.  “Well, almost as natural.  Thank you, truly.”

With those last words Ashan lightly puts a hand on Lacuna’s shoulder.  When his double tries to do the same it passes through her slightly and becomes both there and not there to her vision, like an object only visible through one eye.

“You’re wel- whoa, that’s weird,” Lacuna stumbles her words in surprise.

Ashan pulls his hand back with a puff of exhalation and the illusion throws its head back in silent laughter.

“Ah.  My apologies.  Illusions can be like that when exposed for what they are.”

“It’s fine.  Kind of cool actually.  Do they normally reflect the caster’s emotions like that too?  That’s not something I’ve read about.”

Ashan’s reflection has just enough time to blush hard enough to be seen through the perfect makeup before flickering out of existence.

“Merely a random aberration born from tiredness, I am sure,” the real Ashan says coolly and evenly.  “It must be well after midnight by now.”

“Sure it is.” Lacuna grins and chooses not to poke more fun at the matter.  “Let’s call it a night.  Morning?  Whatever.  Either way, I think we can call this experiment a resounding success.  What do you say?”

“Indeed,” Ashan agrees.

Nail: Empty Names - 9 - Test Run

Just a little further to climb.  Not a bad warmup for her, really.  As long as she’s burning Sullivan’s money, maybe she should add a rock wall to her equipment request along with the other training gear. 

One more stretch.  Grab the main pole of the bowsprit.  Heave.  Swing herself up.  Nail the landing.  Dust off her hands.  Nearly lose her balance when she hears Sullivan slow clapping and sees the others already on the deck.

“What the Hell?”

“I conjured a ramp,” Ashan says matter-of-factly. 

Of course he did.

Need: Empty Names - 23 - Compression

She bends over to use the keyboard and mouse, foregoing sitting down for fear of not wanting to get back up again.  She stops the recordings and takes a brief glance at compiled readouts.  Nothing catches her eye as out of the ordinary, but she’ll need to check it again in the morning when she’s more awake.  She shuts down the test chamber, starts to shut down the computer, and then remembers she forgot to check her email all day.  Nothing urgent, thankfully, but there’s an unexpected message from RevaTech asking if she’d be interested in scheduling an interview and reconsidering working for them.  Weird.  Maybe someone from her old team heard it had taken her a while to find a new job?

She nearly deletes the email but then thinks better of it, flagging and archiving it instead.  Not that she has any intention of leaving where she is now.  Still… It’d be a heck of a coincidence, but with what she gathered yesterday evening and this morning over breakfast about Sullivan and Road looking into something involving robots, it couldn’t hurt to keep open as an avenue to explore later.

[dirtyvulture]

😎 I HATE AUTO Correct with a BURNING PASSION!!!!!! When I was writing the “ dialogue” of R discovering pads the first “ Wait” was turned into “ what” and “ your” was turn into “ our”. And not to mention that it turned “ Esther” into “ Ester”. And I get and understand people still understood it but I always double check everything before I post but that DAMN autocorrect stuck again. It just really bugs me , thanks for bearing with my Ted talk rant. Plus I sometimes really suck at spelling things .

I also tried checking on nurses in WWI and II and them wearing dog tags but I couldn’t get any information ( at lest not information about WW I nurses ) but I do know that WWI nurses had to be the ages between 25 and 35 and could have been subjected to gases and even casualties of being shot and killed. But were working in the back lines of war. While Nurses of WWII had to be ages between 21 and 40 and could not have children under the age of 14 . Nurses were also brought up into the front lines ( Working on Land , Water and Air) . The invention of pads were only given credit to WWI nurses as a whole and not individual ones . But that is not to say R doesn’t have other historical significance and records tied to her . Pictures and articles and firsthand accounts past down throughout history from her time in the wars. I already stated how she sent her time in those wars which would lend itself perfectly to all of those historical records.

I am just imagining R really fucking annoyed by the gassing after protecting her charges or was just in wrong place wrong time in both world wars ( because gas attacks happened in both ). She is holding her throat hacking up a lung ( possibly coughing up blood,  gunk, and god knows what else) , her eyes sting as all hell and her eye sight is shot to all hell. The gases  probably cause R’s voice to get all deep and gruff the first time( not as bad as it is now but still) . R being really annoyed by having to get the blood out of and fixing the bullet holes or other holes in her clothing after protecting her charges ( every single sick and injured soldier, other nurses and civilians - especially women and children R  considered her charges) in all the wars she was in . She probably fixed and got the blood out of other people’s clothes ( R “ bicthed”up a storm “ complaining” about fixing up the men’s clothes but was happy to do so for the other nurses and for the local civilian women and children. Especially the kids’ clothes) .

For pictures in WWI Esther made R do them (alone or in group photos) as Esther was her favorite nurse or at the very least one of her favorites in that war ( I say as if I literally didn’t just put down a random vintage female name for the bit of R helping to invent pads 🤣) but R told Esther that R had to pose with her , R wasn’t doing the pictures alone. For WWII her favorite Nurse of that war was who made her do the photos again( and again R posed only with that nurse as R wasn’t doing pictures alone) . People also just took pictures of R when she was distracted tending to soldiers or the children and local civilian communities in all the wars R was in .

I am looking and saving up for my first car and when I was reading your first chapter of the darkest knight au and I got to the scene where Nat and R got to R’s pickup truck.And I was like “ Girlllll you better NOT be side eyeing the truck !!!!” 😤😤🤬🤬 Like I was soo offended on R’s behalf and the truck and that got me thinking that R just loves her truck . Like that is HER BABY ( if anyone has seen Supernatural think Dean and Baby the 1967 Chevy Impala) and lord help anyone that side eyes or comments badly on her truck.

I also love the idea that R named her truck Esther because the truck is Red ( plus as I said before Esther was her favorite) and it would be a inside joke to her and her alone or R named it Betty Carver ( From the Peggy Carter series) as R met Peggy Carter in WWII and knew her and the “ Betty Carver” of the radio show made her cry laughing. So that name amused her so much that R named her beloved truck that and made a inside joke out of it for herself and herself alone. It doesn’t matter if R remembered the full reason behind the truck’s name because it still  amuses the hell out of R , she can still FEEL the inside joke there . Even if she had forgotten R knows that the truck’s name is a inside joke to herself.

Bonus points if R’s favorite nurse or one of her favorites of WWII is actually related to Esther in some way , make it a family thing . You can choose the name of the nurse and how they are related to Esther , Vulture. And if that family line severed in all the wars that R was in . If that family member in that war was R’s favorite nurse or whatever  service  member of the military. Double bonus points if R knows that it is a family line of people serving in wartime and that they always become R’s favorites in that war.

Don't worry about your autocorrect, we can still understand what you're saying :)

Look at you digging through history just for one little headcanon 😂 I love the dedication and thank you for sharing it with us!

I literally love Esther so much 😭 Definitely gonna try and sneak in a reference for her in a future chapter. She sounds like a really good friend of R's who she probably misses so much.

LOL Nat was definitely judging R's truck a little bit 😭 But it's good she didn't say anything out loud

There's definitely a whole line of nurses who served in wars who all know R somehow 😂 But it's like a family secret to not talk about how well R has aged and how she goes back to knowing great-grandmother Esther

[stusbunker]

Tattered: The Prodigal’s Redemption

A SPN ABO Fan-fiction Series

Featuring: Alpha!Sam x Omega!Reader, Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader, Alpha!Sam x Omega!Reader x Alpha!Dean

Word Count: ~4575

Warnings, etc: Hospitals, at risk pregnancy, hormonal imbalances, amnesia, claiming, little bit of blood, Sam and Dean tag team smut, emotional sex.

Series Masterlist

Special shout out to @lastactiontricia​ for putting up with this series the entire time.

Sam

I’ve never been more grateful to be heading back to Bobby’s. Dean’s been an ass this entire case—- it wasn’t even a case, just infiltration and trying to secure a way in to end Dick Roman. But it took longer than we had hoped.

Though the IT girl, Charlie, seems to think it’s all doable. So, we’ve got that now that Garth has some sort of ancient spell tablet that is giving us some sort of direction. Thanks to a new prophet named Kevin. Poor kid.

The stress of being away from our Omega is making us both snippy, but Dean must be close to rut or something because I want absolutely nothing to do with him. His scent even seems off, which doesn’t make sense, I’ve been around him since he’s presented. He’s never smelled this— gross.

We’re driving through Sioux Falls when I get a text from Bobby and my stomach gives out.

“Turn around,” I might yell. 

Dean’s head whips around and he glares. I hit the call button and side eye him as I wait for Bobby to answer. “They’re at the hospital.”

“What?! Is she okay?!” Dean growls.

“I don’t know, Dean, that’s all Bobby said. ‘Meet us at SF General.’”

He pulls an illegal U-turn and floors it. Bobby doesn’t answer, but he texts again saying to not come stomping in. He gives me a room number. I know it’s her, otherwise she’d be the one texting us. I just don’t know if it’s the pups or —-

“They’re on the fourth floor. The Omega Health Pavillion.”

“Fucking hell. We never should have left,” Dean curses and changes lanes.

“Yeah, and who’s idea was it?” I remind him under my breath, trying not to crush my phone in the palm of my hand.

“Now’s not the time,” Dean warns, not taking his eyes off the road.

I chew on my words and let him get us there— to her. The hospital security are in our faces before we can make it to the elevators. I force myself to not rip their throats out. 

“Sorry, but, official business.” I flash a badge, not even sure which one it is and shove it in both guards’ faces.

“And him?” the older Alpha guard challenges, leering at Dean who is reeking of anxiety.

“I left mine in the car, tub-o, there’s an Omega in danger. Are you gonna let me go or do I have to call your boss?” Dean’s not doing any better than I am, but he’s also not trying to reel it in.

I glare at my brother over the guards’ heads. Dean rolls his eyes and waits out their unnecessary permission.

We could have just said we were next of kin. But two claims—- it’s not really heard of anymore. And they wouldn’t have let us both go. Or either of us.

I worry over the legalities of our situation as Dean punches the floor number on the elevator, forcing the doors closed.

“How long has she been here?” Dean asks like I know anything more than what I’ve told him.

I shrug. “Dunno. Bobby just texted.”

Dean stares at the screen with the increasing digits like it will speed up under the weight of Alpha fury. I try to keep the frustration out of my scent. Dean is too far panicked to pretend to be professional about anything anymore.

I’ve always hated the smell of hospitals, even though they keep the air purified and the surfaces sanitized, you can always smell death. Or loss. Fear is probably the most unrelenting, but it’s the most understandable. And I know we both leave a heavy wave of it behind on that elevator.

The nurse’s station doubles as the security checkpoint, and I can smell pregnant and lactating Omegas from all directions. Dean stops and waits as I check us in, forgoing the badge to keep them from asking more questions.

The nurse tells me, “follow me Dad, we’ll get you to your Omega.”

I nod in gratitude and pointedly don’t look at Dean as I follow her and her mauve scrubs down a corridor away from the scent of fresh pups, to another, shorter hallway blanketed in quiet vigil.

“Bobby?” Dean marches past the nurse when he spots him waiting outside her door. “What the hell happened?!”

Bobby nods at the nurse and she only pauses briefly to scent the air and leave us in peace. Then, finally, he explains. She’d been having more cramping and was feeling faint. He made her go in to check it out on Monday.

“Wait, Monday?! It’s Thursday, Bobby. Why are you telling us now?!” Dean says what I’m thinking.

“She didn’t want to worry you until we knew what was wrong,” Bobby shrugs, but I can tell he never liked the idea. He was just doing what she wanted.

“Is she awake?” I ask.

“I didn’t tell her you boys were on the way, she’s gonna be pissed that you’re pissed. So cool your jets before you burst in there, but I think having you back will at least even her out enough to get out of here.” Bobby sighs. “Or at least I hope so.”

I need more than his hunches. “What are the doctor’s saying?”

“Hormonal imbalance. Like the pregnancy is fighting her. Oh, by the way, there’s three pups. Which they’re also monitoring. Only like twelve-thirteen weeks along, so none of them are viable yet, but yeah.”

Bobby explains like he didn’t just completely break us both.

“Three?” Dean gapes.

Bobby cocks an eyebrow. “You wanted more?”

“I just— three?!” I am not processing this. We knew there was a chance of having multiples, especially with two Alphas, but that’s a lot—- 

“I’m going to check my messages and get some grub. I’ll check in before I head home.” 

“Of course, Bobby. Thank you.” I say before he walks away. 

Dean looks like he’s doing math in his head and I can’t really blame him. “What does he mean by viable?”

Oh.

I sigh and weigh my options. “It means they won’t survive outside of her, yet. They’re too small, underdeveloped.”

“Okay, yeah. But, by chance, with all your reading, you know how long before they could?” Dean is trying to increase her chances while not putting the pups in danger, I can tell.

“With multiples there’s a much higher chance of premature birth. But if we want to keep them, they need her as long as possible. Another twenty weeks would do it, but the ideal? As long as possible.”

“Cuz forty is full term.”

Impressed, I nod. “Yeah.”

“Do you think I smell okay to go in yet?”

I inhale and try not to gag. “It’s hard to tell. You’ve been off to me anyway.”

Dean glares and breathes deep, closing his eyes. I feel him try to force himself to relax. Which, when does that ever work? His heart rate goes down at least.

“She’s exhausted,” Dean mutters, trying not to pace. “She missed us.”

I reach out and try to sense what he’s getting. We’re close enough, she’s probably getting a read on us too, but she hasn’t outright said anything or called us in yet. I’m not as good at it as Dean is, I’m not sure if it’s time or just something he’s better at, or maybe my own worry is clouding over my other senses. I don’t want to dwell on it right now, but he had to say something. Like he’s translating.

“Yeah,” I just agree. “Me, too.”

Because, of course I missed her. But also, I don’t want to sound surprised. He eyes me and inhales, psyching himself up. 

“You coming?” Dean nods to her closed door and I stop short of going in before him.

Her whole room smells of home and anguish.

Dean’s on now, he’s smiling softly and easing inside. I forget how much of him is bravado anyway. I close the door quietly behind us and walk to the side opposite of Dean. Naturally, we each gravitate to the side of her that bares our marks.

She hums in her sleep and her face softens as she catches our scents in her dreams. Dean can’t stop himself from touching her, just a small brushing of her hair behind her ear. It doesn’t wake her, but I know that he’s checking her temperature as he does it.

She’s okay. She’s not thriving or anything, but it feels good just to see her. I pull the blankets up and rest my hand on her stomach, feeling the belt they have tucked around her middle to monitor the babies. I try to find their heartbeats, but they’re so small and so fast, I can’t pick them apart.

It’s enough, for now.

Dean asks me a silent question and I nod, but I think he can feel my relief enough. He nods and grips the rail on the side of her bed. And we wait.

Dean

She’s been in and out of the hospital since we got back from Chicago. It seems whenever we’re separated for more than a few hours, she dips again. We’re guessing the hormone fluctuations happen when we can’t be there to regulate her.

The doctors are literally having us do their jobs for them. They are out of their depth with two Alphas fathering a single, if multiple, pregnancy. 

By her third overnight stay, I hate everything they stand for. 

We get her home and into our bed and just nest for an entire afternoon. She’s putting on weight, which is a good thing, but she’s losing muscle. Sam’s been feeding her his green smoothies— all the extra kale you could ask for. And, I’m not even complaining, because whatever helps.

My nose is buried in her hair and Sam’s her big spoon. Just laying in the not-quite-waking haze before one of us gets up to start dinner.

We don’t talk about the pups unless it’s with the doctors, because we know the more we think about them, the more attached we’ll get. Nobody wants to lose them. But it is still a very real possibility. It’s been this silent agreement— nobody wants to be the jinx.

Meanwhile, Bobby’s been deep in the lore. Most of the books that talk of the older styles of packs are more legend than anything. Maybe a few stories of weathering the elements and fighting for land. There’s very little medical knowledge to gain from all that, but he’s trying.

And then there’s the pesky red-headed beta texting me updates from Dick Roman’s central hub. Not to mention, Garth’s lanky ass helping to calm down an anxious honor-student-turned-prophet. It’s been a rough month.

I breathe her in, trying to keep my thoughts’ foot off the damn gas. She still smells like the hospital, but I know it will be gone by morning. We’ll cover her in us until she takes a shower and then start the process all over again. The healthy glow of the early days of her pregnancy has faded into almost a sheen under her skin, like something is leeching the color out of her.

I make the executive decision to order food for pick up. Nobody wants to cook or clean up at this point anyway, Sam can calm down about whatever he’s gonna say about her sodium levels. She needs food.

Besides, it gives me an excuse to go check on Bobby’s research.

Eventually Sam relents and agrees on pizza when I remind him she can’t have subs unless they’re well toasted. So there, pregnancy guru, I do pay attention. Once the food is ordered, she gets extra cuddly, knowing I’m gonna be the one leaving to get it.

I don’t hate that. 

We watch TV, just some nature show or another, me leaning back against her chest as she plays with my hair and just coats me in nesting Omega pheromones. Sam’s on his laptop next to us, half watching half scouting for anything more the Leviathans can subtly do to slowly conquer the world.

It’s when I drop Bobby’s pie off that he tells me he’s found something. And I mentally start packing before I’m even back with the rest of the food. If Bobby’s network says this guy is the real deal and there’s no trapped Reapers involved, then I’ll take what we can get. 

For her, anything. Always.

Reader

I’m staring at a ghost. Or whatever a dead angel becomes.

“Cas?”

Dean’s looking at him like he hung the moon and I can’t help but worry they’re both actually Leviathans. 

“Did you test him?”

Dean scowls at me. “He’s not possessed.”

I ignore his rudeness and look at Sam, he nods and goes inside to find some borax. 

“Y/N? I understand you’re having some difficulty?” Cas is not right. He’s not a power-tripping wannabe God, but he’s shifty. It’s weird to see him out of the trench coat.

“Okay, what is going on?” I cross my arms over my chest and wait for whatever stupid excuse Dean has for leaving us for an entire day.

“‘Mega, this is Emmanuel, he’s a faith healer.”

I swallow a few choice words and look at Dean and then back to Cas. “Emmanuel. Interesting. How’d you find him?”

“Bobby did.”

Of course he did.

“And what do you do? How do you heal people?” I step down off the porch and look into Cas’ eyes, silently daring him to lie to my face. Just one reason and I’d finally get somewhere to put all the anger that’s been ricocheting around inside my head lately.

“I emit some sort of healing energy after sensing someone’s malady. It is localized and requires little contact, if that’s what’s got you so worried.” Cas— or Emmanuel, whoever, explains cautiously, clearly aware how dangerous I can be. Or maybe that’s just from Dean and however he got him all the way out here.

“How much?” 

“I don’t ask for money. And after your mate saved mine, it’s the least I can do?”

I spin and give Dean a face.

“Yeah, found a demon about to ambush his wife trying to get at him.”

“Wife?”

“Little Beta named Daphne.”

“That shouldn’t matter,” Cas-Emmanuel seems annoyed that his wife’s secondary gender is being scrutinized, not understanding what he was— or must still be if he’s healing folks.

I shake my head and feel Sam join us again. “She cute?”

Dean nods and shrugs. 

“Good for you, Manny.” I turn to Sam. “Uh, could you hold out your hand real quick? Just need to ensure you’re not something else.”

Cas-Emmanuel looks to Dean and Dean glares back, he must decide it’s best to play along. He holds out his left hand, pulling the sleeve of his fancy sweater back. Nothing happens when Sam douses his skin with the cleaner. Well, at least there’s that.

“Alright, buddy, let’s see what you got.” I drop my arms and lean into Cas’ space, closing my eyes and waiting for the cool trickle of his Grace.

“Oh, oh my,” Cas-Emmanuel says. “Well, congratulations. But I don’t think I can help this. This is a matter of unmatched claims. Your offspring need equal input from the hormonal parts of their fathers’ claims. It’s almost like they’re experiencing rejection sickness, much like your other Alpha.”

“Rejection sickness?” Sam asks, voice deep and alarmed.

I turn and look up at Sam.

“She hasn’t claimed you back and you share her with your brother whom she has claimed,” Cas says it all so simply, like we’ve been idiots not to realize it. “I assume that’s why you’re short with your brother and his scent is probably more odorous than usual.”

“Sam?” Dean asks for clarification.

Sam looks at me without seeing me, like he just found out the sky is red. “I didn’t even realize—- I thought it was just stress.”

My chest hurts. I didn’t even know he was hurting. My fault. Again, I’ve been the cause of his pain.

“So how can we fix this? Since, apparently, you can’t.” I ask a little huffy, frustrated at Cas’ blunt appraisals and lack of solutions.

He has the nerve to look squeamish. I feel my eyebrow raise and I put all of my annoyance behind it. Dean looks at the ground like he’s in trouble.

“Um, well, I believe if you make even and equal claims your hormones and the fetuses’ hormones will regulate. And your Alphas will be less prone to rejection as well, or at least I would hope.”

I inhale and nod, figure it sounds too easy, but these boys are always whining about something so we better try it anyway. For my pups, I’d do just about anything at this point. I watch Cas-Emmanuel and I hold out my hand for him to shake.

He takes it timidly, but I shake it hard, drag him to me and scent him. 

“You’re still an angel just wearing a person. I don’t know if you’re being dumb or trying to hide something or to keep someone from finding you— or us. But just know we know who you are.” I let him go and see the panic and alarm on our friend’s face.

He doesn’t understand and it makes me even more cautious to be taking his advice.

“Hey! So, how ‘bout some grub, huh? Long drive,” Dean tries to smooth it out. But I keep watching Cas like a hawk.

Sam was making shish kebabs, so I make a salad to stretch the meal for four adults, knowing Dean will ignore the rabbit food anyway. Bobby’s out for the night, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t going to get an ear full from me in the morning about this faith healer of his.

Cas picks at his food, but I can tell he isn’t hungry. He never was.

It’s after dinner while Dean and Sam are doing the almost nonexistent dishes, that Cas slowly comes back to us. We’re walking around the salvage yard and I’m asking questions about his life now. When eventually he realizes he knows the answers to some of his own questions about me and my Alphas.

Cas and I have never been close, but it hurts all the same to see him so lost.

“As a healer, do you know about the different kinds of Amnesia?” I ask delicately, seeing alarm bells flash behind his brilliant blue eyes. He doesn’t respond. I let it settle in his thoughts as we approach Bobby’s porch.

My temples ache and I’m already getting tired, even though the summer sun is still above the horizon. Cas reaches forward and brushes two fingertips across my brow, earning instant relief.

I exhale.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Cas says sadly.

“Don’t know what you’re apologizing to me for,” I mutter. “Or only me— I should say.”

“It was calamity on a global scale,” Cas admits.

“Still is. Fuckers aren’t gone yet,” I huff, opening the backdoor for Cas to file in front of me.

“True,” his pensive reply.

Dean

Cas made it sound so easy, so obvious. The pups were suffering because we all were still tip-toeing around this thing we started. We weren’t all in— hormonally speaking— and they weren’t getting the stability they needed. Knowing Sam had been feeling it too really was the kicker, because I hadn’t meant for it to go that far. Especially knowing how much she’s suffered over the last couple of months.

So, basically, I’ve been a world class asshole.

I do a load of laundry and try to get my head on straight as she and Cas walk around the yard, catching up. Sam keeps giving me this look like he feels guilty but curious and all I smell is relief on him. I’ve been so far into my own head I’m tuning them both out.

What happens if the Leviathans get a hold of us? If Sam or I bite it, is she a goner too?

We need to fix this. Tonight. And pray whatever happens from here on out, the surviving bonds are strong enough to withstand anything that gets thrown at us. We were so close to normal, I’m not risking it anymore. If she needs my mark— I’ll give it to her. I would give her a freakin’ kidney, I’m not seeing it as any less now.

She’s sweaty and tired when she gets back inside, but there’s something behind her eyes that I haven’t seen in weeks and it digs into my chest with claws, latching on tight. Sam gets her some water and we congregate around the kitchen table. She explains how she thinks we can do this best, and how we’ll figure out the Leviathans as soon as she’s stable. And how Cas was sticking around for a few days until we would be rolling out the Stop Dick Permanently Plan.

By the end of the week, this all could be behind us. It feels big and it sounds easier than it is, but so do most things. 

“Okay, go get comfortable— I’ll be up in like an hour and we can go from there.” I usher them upstairs. Sam gets his claim first, beating away rejection sickness had to come first or my re-claiming might have actually killed him— if not the pups.

She’s determined to get it all done at once and I don’t blame her, but I also don’t want to tempt fate. Bodies are complicated and you can’t bank on it all working so easily.

I listen as they get close, like a love song in the background. It’s not quite my style, but I can appreciate the melody. Sam’s a pretty rough guy, and I know he’s holding back because he’s scared.

We all are.

The kitchen is spotless by the time their hour’s up. Plus all the laundry is folded in the mudroom. I rub my hand over my face and march up the stairs. The smell of sex has me stiffening up and the closer I get I catch a hint of blood mixed in. She’s cradled in Sam’s lap, legs around his waist as she laps at her claim on his neck. He’s got some color back and there’s a sense of connection, of rightness mirrored in both of their minds.

Somehow, I don’t feel like I’m interrupting.

Sam nods at me as I start to get undressed, and it’s almost like he’s relieved I’m there.

“How long you been locked in?” I ask clinically, curious to see how much build up I have ahead of me.

“‘Bout ten minutes,” she murmurs, content and dreamy.

“You want me to wait or can I join you?”

She hums richly, like she’s contemplating dessert. My stomach does somersaults. “Hold me? My back is cold.”

“I can do that.”

I crawl behind her, kissing her shoulder before rubbing down her back, then up and down her arms, covering her in my touch. I nuzzle into the crook of her neck and scent her, feeling her steady pulse against my cheek.

She’s okay. They’re all going to be okay.

We sit like that for a couple of minutes, her leaning back against me while still stuck on Sam’s knot. He’s playing with her fingers, his other massive mit is protectively pressed against her rounded belly.

She’s fucking gorgeous and she’s ours.

I’m hard against her side, but I don’t care. Not right now. It’s too perfect to go rutting against her just yet.

Sam’s all pensive, but he isn’t giving off much besides Mate and Content and Pups in random hazes of thought. I wonder if he hears me yet.

I rub my nose along her shoulder, kiss where it meets her neck and smile into the crook when she shivers. She sits up and kisses Sam, holding his face between her hands like he’s precious. He growls against her lips, sighing when she starts to scratch his scalp. She whines when he starts to slip out of her, licking into his mouth to make it last.

I’ve got my hands on the notch of her waist, eying her ass crack like it’s manna from Heaven. I’m so hard and already leaking, but she’s still got Sam to take care of. I start nipping at her nape, just to distract myself more than anything.

Sam’s plotting, I can feel it.

Then she jumps because the fucker starts rubbing her clit. Well, two can play at that game, so I grab her tits and start sucking marks all over her neck and shoulders. I twist those ruddy nipples until she’s mewling, rocking hard against Sam’s half soft dick.

“I gotcha, honey, come here,” I husk out, lifting her by the armpits onto my lap and off my brother’s knot. She gushes all over my thighs, both slick and cum. Then I’m fucking up into her before Sam can even complain.

He’s still got her mouth anyhow.

She slumps against me, holding Sam’s fingers to her mound. She calls out a breathy “Alpha” and we both speed up.

God— she’s so warm, just hugging me so good.

I look down and watch her tits bounce, her baby belly hiding the pleasure Sam’s giving her. Fucking hot.

I cup those beauties, pinching the nubs between my second and third fingers, and roll my hips, hitting her right where she likes it.

“Fuck!” she groans, cumming all over all of us.

“That’s it,” I mumble. “Give us the good stuff.”

I punch my knot up against the clench of her channel, blood pulsing through every inch I can shove inside her. I’m not there yet, but the tight, wet, squeeze of her has me salivating. She writhes in my lap, unwilling to let go of either of us. She rides out her orgasm while murmuring the most delicious filth.

Sam licks his fingers clean and then starts in on her tits. She pulls his hair and puts him where she wants him. And I’m growing heavier at the mere sight of her taking what she wants.

She reaches back and cups my neck, pulling me closer  so she can tongue fuck my mouth. She adds a roll to our rhythm and I’m seeing spots. Everything goes high and tight and I’m fucking flooding her with all I’ve got.

I bite her bottom lip on the way to her throat— to the scar I left there all those months ago. She licks her own blood off my tongue before nudging me closer. I take the scar tissue between my teeth and nip— fuck my knot in higher and pull my teeth wide and sink into the unmarred flesh. Biting deep and dragging her into my throat— feeling her infuse my veins. Weaving us further together.

She sustains me.

I tongue the fresh wound as she grinds down against my knot. I feel her lower lips quiver and I’m cumming all over again. The taste and smell of her on me— inside me, stretches out my orgasm into waves of completion— drawing it out until I’m sobbing her name and she’s shushing me quiet.

Fuck— it feels so good.

I want to put three more pups in her.

I don’t know when Sam crawled away, but I’m grateful for the time to ourselves. I kiss my mark and wrap my arms around her middle— just clinging to her and this moment.

The world finally feels like it makes sense.

Tell me what you think?

Tagging:  @idreamofdeanie​​ @stoneyggirl2 @delightfullykrispypeach​​    @dolphincliffs​​ @flamencodiva​​ @crashdevlin​​ @dontshootmespence​​ @thoughtslikeaminefield​​  @rockhoochie​​ @dawnie1988 @mrswhozeewhatsis​​ @cosicas-cuquis​​ @foxyjwls007 @tumbler-tidbits @defenderrosetyler​​ @ericaprice2008  @wingedcatninja​​ @akshi8278 @itmighthavebeenintentional​​ @smi727​ @princessmisery666​​ @impalaslytherin​

[scuttling]

If I Should Linger

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 6,979 (what is wrong with me??) Tags: 18+, NSFW, Best Friend's Dad Hotch, Confident reader, Flirting, Oral sex, Protected sex, Dirty talk, A little angst with a happy ending Summary: Your best friend stands you up at the bar, but it actually turns into the best night you've had in a long time—maybe the best night of your life. Unfortunately, things don't stay uncomplicated for long... *Requested by @hotforhotchner11 Link to A03 or read below! “I can’t believe you stood me up to have sex with a frat boy,” you hiss into your phone from your seat at the bar. Your best friend Julie—better known as Jay—is on the other end, and she’s completely ruining your plans for the evening at later than the last minute. She’s never on time for anything.

“He’s not a frat boy… yet. He’s rushing.” You pick up your gin and tonic to take a sip, but her comment makes you pause.

“He’s rushing? How old is he?” The breath she blows out before she answers tells you everything you need to know. Goddamn cradle robber.

“Twenty? Or, almost twenty.”

“Oh, you nasty girl. He’s nearly ten years younger than us.” At 28, you literally could not imagine being interested in a 20 year old. Anyone under 25 is practically an infant; what would you talk about?

“The pussy wants what it wants, babe. It’s more fun when they barely know what they’re doing.” Then again, you figure, she isn’t exactly doing much talking.

“That’s gross, Jay.”

“Is it any grosser than your thing for older guys? You’d fuck my dad if I let you anywhere near him, which is exactly why I don’t.”

“I would not fuck your dad—actually, what does he look like?” She groans down the line and you laugh. “I’m kidding. I’m trying to fuck someone’s dad tonight, but not yours.” You hear a choked laugh from beside you and you glance over at, objectively, one of the most attractive men you’ve ever seen: he’s Black, bald, muscular, with a neatly trimmed goatee and a killer smile, and apparently your thirst for older men amuses him. You smile back. “Jay, I have to go; I’m embarrassing myself in public.”

“Okay, and what else is new? Bye!” When she hangs up, you lock your phone and turn to face the man at the bar.

“Sorry about that. Sometimes I forget people are actually listening in places like these; there’s so much talking it’s all kind of white noise to me.”

“It’s kind of my job to listen to what no one else does, but I forget to turn it off sometimes,” he says, and no, that’s not intriguing or anything. “So you’re into older guys?” he asks with a raised eyebrow, and you lean in with your chin in your hand, elbow on the bar.

“Almost exclusively. You don’t look old enough to be someone’s dad, but I’d probably make an exception.” He laughs again; he doesn’t have a drink, so maybe he’s waiting for the bartender, but you sip yours.

“I’m flattered, but taken. I have a friend who’s probably your type; he doesn’t do one night stands, though. He doesn’t really do anything. We’re trying to loosen him up.” You hum thoughtfully, take a cursory glance around the room.

“I happen to be great at loosening older men up. Is he here?” He shoots you a smile, looks at you like you kind of amaze him.

“You don’t beat around the bush, do you?” You raise an eyebrow.

“Would you, if you weren’t taken?” He nods a little, like you’ve got a good point, and you both laugh. “Yeah, it’s a double standard. If you can walk up to a woman and ask her if it hurt when she fell from heaven, why can’t I walk up to an older man and ask if he believes in love at first sight, or if I should walk by again?”

“That tired line would not work on my friend,” he says, and you grin.

“I think you’d be surprised. But, you know him better, so why don’t you just invite me back to your table, since I got stood up by my friend and I’m all alone, and let me do my thing?” You swirl your straw in your drink, try to look flirty, and he leans in on his elbow like you did before.

“You know what? What the hell. If nothing else, he gets some attention from a pretty girl and maybe it boosts his confidence.” You smile—you like this guy already.

“Aw, you think I’m pretty?” He rolls his eyes, and then the bartender presents him with his drinks. You take two—one is a neat bourbon, that has to belong to the older man friend—and follow him to his table while he just shakes his head.

“Looks like you brought back more than drinks,” a pale woman with dark hair and bangs says with a smile when the two of you approach the table. He hands her one of the beers, takes the cocktail from your hand and gives it to a petite blonde with fair skin.

“Her friend bailed on her and we got talking at the bar, so I invited her to come sit with us.” You introduce yourself to the group, and the friend Derek mentioned might be your type? Egregious understatement.

He’s everything you like in an older man: polite, well-spoken, handsome, clean shaven, with a great head of thick, dark hair—he’s wearing an expensive watch, a goddamn suit, a tailored suit that fits him perfectly, and if Jay were here, you’d be catching her attention and panting like a dog, with your hands up near your face.

To someone without your more refined palate for older gentlemen, he may look like an average white guy in his early fifties, but you have to look down to make sure your panties haven’t dropped involuntarily. Just in case.

“Is this seat taken?” you ask, gesturing to the one next to him, and he shakes his head, pulls it out for you before he sits back down—yes, he stood when you approached the table. Manners, check. You’re trying not to drool.

You smooth out your skirt before you take your seat—you always dress for the man you want to attract, and tonight is no exception, so you’re wearing a black lace dress and nude heels; the dress is fitted, but not clingy, and not too short, and you know the right kind of man will find it appealing. So far, your handsome potential love interest Aaron seems to be looking respectfully; that may change, but you’re happy to see it, for now.

“So Derek mentioned you’re all in the FBI; are you the boss? You look like the boss,” you say with a playful smile, and Aaron looks a little nervous when he nods, makes eye contact.

“Until someone decides to overthrow me,” he jokes, deadpan, and your smile gets brighter. Dry sense of humor, check.

“I’d like to see them try; I definitely sense that you can handle your own.” Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Derek hiding a smile behind his hand. He knows you’re flirting, even if no one else does, and another reason you hope to take Aaron home is so you can wipe that smile off his face—but mostly because Aaron’s gorgeous, and you know it would be a very good time for the both of you.

“Let’s play darts,” Derek says to the other people at the table—you can’t remember their names at the moment, all your attention focused on Aaron—and they get up and walk over to the board, so it’s just the two of you.

Aaron clears his throat. “Thank you. What do you do for work?”

“I’m in publishing; a copy editor. Mostly Tom Clancy type action novels, and romance novels. Lots of heaving bosoms and cries of overwhelming pleasure, you know?” You take a sip of your drink through the straw, looking over at him as innocently as you can. He’s a little flushed; you’re a huge fan of that look on a man. “Do you ever read romance novels?”

“Uh, no. Not my genre.” He takes a sip of his drink, and you watch his mouth while he does.

“Not mine either. When you edit enough of them, they become wholly unsexy… and they never compare to real life.” You flick your eyes over his body, briefly but not subtly, and he gives you a glance back. Your heart beats a little faster in your chest. “So what do you like to read? Wait, may I guess?” you ask, setting a hand on his arm. He nods, and you carry on, leaning just a little closer. “So I’m going to guess you’re a fan of the classics, novels you’ve read a hundred times. I think you would tell me your favorite is To Kill a Mockingbird,” you say, tapping against his sleeve, “and maybe intellectually it is, but you actually feel more when you read Moby Dick. I bet your heart yearns for adventure—not that life as a crime solving FBI agent is boring, but it's all too real. Moby Dick is the perfect blend of adventure and fantasy for a man like you.”

“You’ve known me for all of ten minutes,” he says with a raised eyebrow, and you shrug and take a drink.

“True. But am I right? Or close?” He smiles, the first full, unguarded expression he’s given tonight, and you feel awesome for making that happen.

“My favorite book is Moby Dick. I make a point to read it at least twice a year. You’re good.”

“Thank you.” You pull back, take your hand off of his arm; you’ve laid the groundwork for touching, and he’ll have to make a move if he wants more. “People often tell you a lot they don’t intend to, and books are my thing, so it’s easy for me to connect the dots. I recommend books to people as a kind of party trick.” You stir your drink, and he shifts a little, sitting closer.

“Have you disappointed many people with your recommendations?”

“Oh, I make it a personal mission to never leave anyone disappointed,” you say, your voice low and sweet like honey. His eyes move to your mouth. You sweep your tongue over your bottom lip. “Derek said your friends are trying to get you to loosen up; can I ask why?” He flicks his eyes up to yours, frowns a little, like he’s not sure that’s something he’s ready to tell you; ultimately, he just sighs.

“I’ve been divorced for five years, alone for five years. They think it’s time I…” He trails off, shrugs.

“Get back in the saddle?” you offer, and he laughs lightly, agrees. “Is that something you’re interested in? You shouldn’t feel pressured into it if you’re not ready.” You might want to sleep with him so badly it’s sickening, but not at the expense of his well-being.

He exhales deeply and lifts his arm to rest it on the back of your chair; you want to smile, but the conversation doesn’t call for it, so you hold off.

“I think I’m ready, but how do you really know?” You turn toward him a little more, lean against his arm; it feels easy, comfortable, almost like a real date and not you flirting like your life depends on it and hoping to get a bite.

“I think you should wait to meet someone who makes you feel a spark, and then explore it. Maybe it burns hot, but doesn’t last. Maybe it’s a slow burn. Maybe it’s a bit of both. I think when you’re really ready to put yourself out there, you’ll know.” He holds your gaze, wets his lips, takes a breath.

“You’ve been flirting with me.” You do smile a little, then.

“Yes, Aaron, I have.”

“Did Derek put you up to it?”

“Absolutely not.” You touch his arm again, gentle, lean in close. “I’m genuinely interested in you. You’re everything I’m attracted to in a man.” His smile doesn’t touch his eyes.

“Old and uptight?”

“Older, and kind, and capable of having a conversation about more than just sports and money, and handsome. Very handsome.” You lift your fingers from his arm, brush them through his hair over his temple. “I feel a spark. Do you?”

“Yes,” he breathes, and when you set your hand on the table, he covers it carefully with his. His hand is big, warm, softer than you’d expected, and you’re met with the sudden urge to feel it all over your body. “I feel a spark.”

“Good. Do you want to come home with me tonight? No strings attached—just to get you back in the saddle,” you say with a tilt of your head, and he nods.

“I want to.” You’re certain that the smile that crosses your face is softer, inviting, but you get the feeling he won’t kiss you while his friends could be watching. You’re actually surprised he’s touching you so openly.

“Okay, so why don’t you give me a ride home? I was going to have to call an Uber, since my friend didn’t show up, but you’re a gentleman, aren’t you? You wouldn’t let me do that.” He catches on to what you’re saying, the excuse you’re giving him to give his friends, makes a noise of understanding.

“Of course. I wouldn’t rest not knowing you made it home safely.”

“I’m not sure how much rest you’ll be getting tonight,” you murmur, and you rest your free hand on his thigh under the table, squeeze a little. He’s very firm, and you kind of melt. “But that’s a very sweet sentiment, Aaron. Are you committed to staying here much longer?”

“Not at all. Would you like to leave now?” You hold his gaze for a moment, want to be really sure about this; you’re no expert on body language, but you’ve been here before, and he really does look less tense than when you first showed up, more comfortable and open. All really good signs.

“Yes, please.” He squeezes your hand, then stands, smooths out his jacket, and tells you he’ll be right back while he goes to say goodbye to his friends. You stand too, finish what’s left of your drink, and pull out your phone to text Jay.

Taking home the most incredible man. Guess I don’t need my wingwoman after all.

J: Tell grandpa I said he better treat you right.

Please. He’s not that old. If anything, you can call him daddy. :P

J: You can call him daddy. Have fun ;) The ride to your apartment starts out quiet, but you try to fill it by asking Aaron more about himself. You keep your hands on him while you chat, leaning as close to him as you can while wearing your seatbelt, running your hand up and down his leg, over his arm while he shifts gears. You know it’s turning you on, and you’re fairly certain it’s turning him on as well.

You learn more about his job, that he basically solves crimes by judging people, which is kind of funny; before that, he was a lawyer, which you can definitely see. He has one child, a daughter who’s upset with him because of the divorce (someone’s dad, check), and a brother who lives in New York, no living parents. It’s more information than you usually get out of someone you plan to sleep with, but you really do like him, and since he’s not the one night stand type, you think more conversation is the right way to go.

He asks about you too, about your family and your job and your lame friend who bailed on you, and when he arrives outside your building, parks in the lot, you unbuckle your seatbelt and lean in closer, smoothing a hand over his waist.

“I’m really glad I met you tonight,” you breathe, looking up at him, and he puts his hand on your cheek and you meet for a slow, easy kiss. “Hmm. I knew you’d be good at that.”

“I knew you’d be good at that, too. You have the most beautiful lips.” He brushes his fingers over them, and you take his hand, bring two of them into your mouth to suck softly. His breath hitches, and you feel your panties getting damp. God, he’s gorgeous. “Let’s go inside,” he whispers, and you slip his fingers out, drop a hand to his lap where he’s—oh, so perfectly hard it’s unreal.

“We could get started out here, have a little adventure,” you say playfully, fully prepared for him to say he’d rather not, but he just licks his lips and looks at you like you’re going to be the death of him, but at least he’ll die happily. That’s another look you’re a huge fan of on an older man.

You undo his belt, his button and his zipper, pull his cock out of his pants; he’s of average length, thick, makes your mouth water, and you lean in to use that to your advantage, getting him wet with your saliva and then stroking him in your hand. You look up at his face, and he’s got his eyes closed, head back against the headrest—so fucking sexy. You reach your free hand under his shirt, where he’s hairy, strong, but a little soft, just the way you like it, and he opens his eyes and pulls you close for a kiss that’s a bit harder than the last.

“You’re absolutely perfect,” he sighs against your lips, and you press closer for another kiss. You almost regret the adventure comment now, because you want to undress him, and touch him, feel him all over, but you’ll just have to be patient. (That’s never been your strong suit.)

“Are you kidding? You are… everything. If I could build a dream man, he would literally be a copy of you.” He makes a sharp, self-deprecating sound, and you lean down to get him wetter, move your hand a little faster. “I’m completely serious. I’m a little upset I’ve been going to that bar for so long and our paths never crossed.” One of his hands moves to your hair, and he pulls you close for a kiss; he’s ready to come, you can tell, and you want him to more than anything, so you cover his hand with yours and dip your head, sucking his dick like you’re desperate for it. When it comes to Aaron, you’re kind of desperate for everything.

“Oh, god. That feels so good, baby.” You moan at the pet name—is there anything better in the world than an older man calling you baby? Maybe just Aaron specifically calling you baby—and he tightens his fingers in your hair while you glide over him, tight and wet, until he comes in your mouth.

You swallow it down, pull off breathless, and then swipe your tongue over him so he’s clean enough that you can tuck him back into his pants. You look up at him from his lap, and he’s panting too, rubs his fingers over your lips, your chin, down your throat. You’re desperately horny now, soaking wet, and when you shift to sit up, he catches you for a deep, steamy kiss, and that does nothing to help your situation.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, and ugh, your heart flutters. Seriously, who created this man? He’s incredible. “Now let’s go inside so I can make you come, too.”

“Definitely,” you agree with a nod, and you kiss him once more before pulling back and climbing out of the car, straightening yourself up. He does the same, then walks over to you, takes your hand, and follows you into your apartment.

Sex with Aaron is… talk about adventure. He fucks like—well, like he hasn’t done it in over five years. As soon as you get inside the door, he gets on his knees, pulls your panties down, lifts your skirt up, and eats your pussy with such enthusiasm you come with your hands in his hair, rocking against his face, in less than three minutes. Seeing him down on the ground in the full suit, just going to town on you, is not an image you’ll soon forget, that’s for sure.

After that, the two of you stumble to your bedroom, hands all over each other, tugging at zippers and discarding clothes—he has you keep your shoes on, and that makes you feel slutty like a porn star, and super hot—and you kiss, touch, moving your hands all over each other's bodies until he’s hard again. You stay in missionary, and after he slips on a condom from your bedside table, he slides into you, kisses your lips and your neck and your shoulders while he rolls his hips against yours.

It’s slow and sensual at first, and you drag your nails lightly across his back, tilt your head when he nips at your throat.

“Aaron, oh. You feel so good,” you breathe, scraping your fingers through his hair, and his thrusts get a little deeper, his kisses a little rougher.

“You’re incredible. So gorgeous.” He moves a hand to your breast, massages it while your bodies work; you hitch your legs up higher, moan, and pull him closer, your hands on his body, and he fucks into you more frantically, humping against you hard, wildly. You’ve never really gotten fuck you like an animal, but that’s kind of what he’s doing, and you’re into it, clinging to him, pushing into his thrusts like it’s possible to take him deeper than you are now.

God, he’s going to spoil you, ruin you for all other men. You’re going to have your best sex at 28 and then be chasing this feeling the rest of your goddamn life. It’s both amazing and horribly unfair.

“Yes, Aaron, yeah. Fuck me hard, fuck me deep.” He groans, pounds inside you, moves his hand from your breast to the back of your neck and stares down into your eyes while he absolutely destroys you. You come clenching around him, pulling his hair and digging your nails into his shoulder, and his mouth comes crashing down for a kiss while he thrusts through it and then stutters, his orgasm right behind yours.

You sag against the pillow behind your head, and he puts his weight on you, hand still clamped around the nape of your neck, and breathes hot against your throat.

You stare up at the ceiling, catching your breath, and thank fucking god Jay stood you up tonight. Aaron is very sweet, kissing you and holding you, murmuring against your skin, and the two of you go to the bathroom, get cleaned up, and then raid your kitchen for snacks, talking easily and laughing. He doesn’t look like he’s about to bolt, which you’d been a little worried about; in fact, he actually suggests taking your snacks back to bed, jokes about not getting any crumbs on your white sheets. Never one to kick a man out abruptly after sex, and especially not a man like Aaron, you agree, and you end up in bed again, which means…

Another frantically torn condom wrapper later, and you’re on your stomach, your nipples rubbing against the sheets. Aaron’s hands are on your ass while you work yourself on his cock, rolling your body, moaning desperately like you aren’t already two orgasms deep; his dick hits just right, and between that and the nipple stimulation you’re coming fast, bucking hard against him so he’ll follow.

“Fuck, baby, coming already?” He tightens his grip, slams inside you, plants one hand on the bed to change his angle a bit. “Let’s try for another; your body is so perfect, built for sex, built for me.” You groan, roll your eyes back because his dirty talk is hitting the spot, and the two of you fuck together, noisy and eager and hot, until he shudders, squeezes your ass hard and starts to come.

You’re so close, right on the edge, and you sound wild because of it, your moans high, whimpering, your fingers digging into the sheets.

“Yes, yes, don’t stop, please don’t stop,” you beg, grinding against him, and he puts both hands hard on your hips, rails you into the bed.

“I’m not stopping until you come for me. Come for me,” he murmurs, and he wraps one hand around the front of your body, rubs your clit, and you climax, squeezing your eyes shut, seeing stars. You moan his name, drop your hand to cover his where it rests against your pussy, and this time when his body drapes across your back like a weighted blanket, you sigh and close your eyes.

He kisses your back and shoulders, runs his big hands over your hips and ass, then slides off and guides you to the edge of the bed, lifts you up and carries you to the bathroom. You think absently that you could get used to being treated this well, and you must say it, because he presses a kiss to your lips and whispers, “I will if you let me.”

There’s a little talk in bed, after you’re cleaned up and cozy beneath the comforter, about going on a real date; Aaron seems nervous, like he thinks you won’t go for it, that all you wanted was this night of sex. And yes, while that’s typically your MO, something about Aaron is different. He makes you want more, things like dates and picnics and sweet lovemaking at night and kisses—all the kisses, everywhere, all the time.

You ask him to stay, and he promises he will, and you fall asleep in his arms. It’s the best you’ve felt in a really long time.

You wake up to Aaron’s sleepy, handsome face, and you kiss and smile into each other’s lips, because last night was great, but this is even greater. Your plan is to take a shower together and then go out for breakfast, but there’s a knock at your door just as you’re planning to step in.

“You go ahead, I’ll catch up,” you tell him with a kiss, and you pull on your robe and peer through the peephole, then pull the door open. “Well, well; now you decide to show up.”

Jay steps in with a box of doughnuts and two cups of coffee, looking properly shamed.

“I know, I’m a horrible friend. I broke the slut code: stay slutty, but never at the expense of your best girl.” You crack a smile, because you could never really be mad at her, but especially not after last night. You’re about to say that, but she looks over your shoulder at the clothes still strewn about your living room and grins. “Holy shit. Is your old man still here?”

“He’s not an old man, and yes, he’s in the shower, so shut up.” She shoves the doughnuts and coffee carrier into your hands and brushes past you, toward your bedroom, and you groan. “Jay, no, come on.”

“I just want to get a glimpse of him,” she says, peeking her head into your room. She sees more clothes, and the condom wrappers, looks back at you with a cocked eyebrow. “Okay, someone had a good time last night.”

“Yes, it was fucking incredible. He’s a sex god, I’m not even kidding. He ate my pussy like he hasn’t had a meal in months, then fucked me twice, so hard and sexy, and then he asked me if he could take me on a date, Jay.” You smile wide, can’t help it. “I really like him, so I actually owe you for not coming out last night.” She smiles back, pulls you close for a hug, and you step back with your hands on her shoulders. “So thank you, and thanks for coming to apologize, but can you please leave? I really don’t want to miss out on some potential good morning shower sex.”

She rolls her eyes, but it’s all from a place of love, and she turns to head out of your room.

“Okay, but only because cockblocking you would mean breaking the slut code again, and I can’t have my membership card revoked. I have a date with the almost frat boy again tonight.” She grins, and you shake your head, pull off your robe when you hear the door shut and head for the shower.

Good morning shower sex has never been so good. One month and twelve dates later, and you’re head over heels for Aaron. He is so sweet, and smart, and secretly funny, the perfect gentleman when you’re in public and an absolute manic in private, and you seriously could not have imagined a more perfect man.

Jay is maybe a little tired of hearing you talk about him.

You’re out for breakfast on a Saturday morning—Aaron is on a case in Indiana, or you’d probably be with him—and she sighs around a bite of french toast.

“I get it, he’s the best lay you’ve ever had in your life. He makes your pussy wet and your heart horny, or whatever. When do I get to meet the old man who’s got you wrapped around his big sexy fingers?”

“He’s supposed to be home tonight, maybe I’ll see if he’s feeling up to drinks?” Sometimes he’s really worn out after these cases, and you don’t blame him, but occasionally they must touch him in a way that makes him want to enjoy life, because you’ve had some nice dates the same day he gets back. You’ll ask, and if he’s not up for it, you’ll reschedule.

“Ooh, yes. I can’t wait to finally get a good look at the hunk who turned my maneater best friend into a monogamous whore.” You gasp, affronted, and she cackles, takes a sip of her iced coffee. Sometimes you can’t even remember why you’re friends—but she never fails to do something completely unexpected and sweet that reminds you eventually. “Hey, maybe now that you’re obsessed with this guy, you can finally meet my dad, since I don’t have to worry about you trying to suck his dick at first sight.”

You know that Jay’s relationship with her dad has been a little rough since her parents split up, and you’ve always thought that maybe you could get her to open up to him, to talk to him, if you could get to know him, but her fears about your taste for older men have always been hilariously real. As if you can’t control yourself; as if you’d ever actually date her dad.

“Well I’ll have to ask my old man; maybe he’s down for a threesome?” It’s her turn to act offended, and you laugh and send Aaron a text about this evening before you forget.

Can’t wait to meet the infamous Jay, he replies, and you won’t lie, you’re feeling really good about your two favorite people finally getting to know each other.

That night, you and Aaron beat Jay to the bar, because of course you do—that bitch is never on time for anything.

You’re feeling cute in a sexy turtleneck dress (the neck of which Aaron tugged down to place a hickey under when you rode him on the couch before coming here) and a set of earrings he bought you—you’re wearing a set of lingerie he bought you, too for later—and he looks gorgeous in a dark blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up.

You can barely keep your hands off of him, squeezing his thigh, kissing his neck; you only give him an inch of space when he gets up to run to the restroom, and even then, the way he smiles and presses his lips to yours before he goes makes you want to cancel drinks and take him home so you can be alone.

But Jay asked to meet him, and you have been a little obsessed lately, so you want to do this and make her happy.

You look down at your phone, ready to hit her with some inflammatory where the fuck are you??? texts, when she drops into the seat Aaron had just vacated, breathless.

“Sorry, sorry. Traffic was really bad, and I got into this huge fight with my mom on the phone...” She pulls off her jacket, drapes it over the back of the seat.

“Is everything okay?” you ask, concerned. The two of them usually get along pretty well.

“Yeah, she’s just pissed because my dad has a new girlfriend—which is stupid, because she’s the one who wanted to divorce him, so why does she care? But anyway, I told her I’d meet her and be nice to her, because it’s important to him, and she expects me to take her side or something. I don’t know. Let’s just say I’m really glad I’m out for drinks with you and your old man so I can forget about my problems for a while.” She takes a deep breath for practically the first time since she started talking, then looks around, realizes it’s just the two of you. “Hey, where is he, anyway?”

“Restroom,” you say with a smile, but something more must creep onto your face, because she rolls her eyes playfully.

“And you didn’t follow him in there for a little stall action?”

“Ew, no. That’s more your speed than mine; we had sex before we came, anyway, look at this hickey.” You pull the neck of your dress down and she whistles, impressed.

“Congrats on having such good pussy, babe. I know you’re sickeningly obsessed with him, but it looks to me like he’s got it bad for you too.” You grin, instinctively want to gush over him, but you see him walking over out of the corner of your eye, so you hold off.

He’s frowning, though, and you’re not sure why.

“Julie?” Jay whips her head around at the sound of Aaron’s voice, and her eyes get wide.

“Dad? What are you…” You stand up abruptly, looking up at Aaron, and Jay stands too, looking between you, confused. “What are you doing here?”

“I… We…” He swallows, looks at you like you’ve both made a terrible mistake. You’re surprised how much that look hurts, but you know you have to take care of Jay before you can feel sorry for yourself.

“Jay, listen to me, okay? I swear to god I didn’t know.” You’re begging, pleading with your eyes, your hands on her shoulders. “I did not know.” She shakes her head like it’s not making sense, but when she lets herself connect the dots, she brings up a hand to cover her mouth.

“Oh my god. Are you fucking kidding me?” She pulls away from you, looking at you like you punched her in the face. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Jay, I didn’t—”

“Julie,” Aaron says, reaching for her, but she steps back, palms up.

“I seriously can’t believe this. You two… After every joke we made about me keeping you away from him?” She looks at you like you betrayed her, and you exhale, shrug sadly.

“It’s not like I went looking for him, Jay. We just… found each other.” You don’t look at Aaron, because if the last month hasn’t meant the same things to him, you’ll have to be okay with that. “I know it’s shocking, and I’m sorry. I can’t imagine what it feels like to find this out, this way.”

“You’re right, you can’t imagine. I just fought with my mom about my dad’s new girlfriend, and it’s-it’s you.” She laughs, humorless.

“You fought with your mom? When?” Aaron asks, crossing his arms, and it’s so clear how much he cares about Jay. Her eyes fly to his.

“On the fucking way here. She told me about your new slut girlfriend, and I was defending you! I told her I’d meet her if you asked me to, that I’d be nice because I know she’s important to you! And it’s you,” she practically spits, turning to you. “Such a whore that you’ll fuck anyone over forty who can still get it up, including my fucking father.” Her tone stings, and people are looking at the three of you, but you take a breath, remind yourself that she’s just angry right now, and she loves you, doesn’t mean that.

“Julie, that's enough. I’m taking you home and we can talk about this there.” Aaron steps past her, picks up her jacket, and glances over at you, but you’re collecting your things and and pulling up a rideshare app to get yourself the fuck out of there.

You head for the bathroom to wait it out until your ride comes, and you definitely don’t cry because the two people who bring you the most happiness in the world are gone and they barely even looked back. It’s five days before Jay shows up at your door with apology doughnuts and a bottle of rosé. You eat and drink and cry on each other, and then laugh at each other, and your heart feels a little healed by the end of it.

“I’m sorry I called you a whore. It’s just… what are the odds, after everything we said, that you would actually hook up with my fucking dad.” You laugh and take the last bite of your doughnut.

“You don’t think I was a little startled by that turn of events? I was as shocked as you. I knew he had a daughter around my age, but that’s not really what we talked about, you know?” She shoves half a doughnut in her mouth and cackles.

“You don’t talk a whole lot, from what I’ve gathered.”

“Didn’t,” you say, and your whole mood shifts. She looks confused. “We didn’t talk a whole lot. He hasn’t spoken to me since the night you found out.” She pulls out her phone, starts texting.

“Okay, I told him I was okay with you guys like, two days ago, so this probably means he’s spiraling. He tends to do that—get in his own head and beat himself up for things that aren’t his fault.” She looks up from her phone, gives you a soft smile. “Will you forgive me if I tell you he’s moping at home right now, and that I know he’ll be happy to see you?” You roll your eyes a little.

“I already forgive you, Jay, but if he hasn’t called me, maybe there’s a reason. Maybe he was looking for an out, and I gave him one, or maybe he can’t feel the same way I do because he knows we’re friends.”

“He told my mom about you, remember? He wouldn’t have done that if he wasn’t serious about you, and I don’t think he’d be acting this emo if he didn’t have feelings for you.” She reaches out, covers your hands with hers. “I’m really, really sorry I fucked this up for you guys. Weirdness aside, I know what good people you both are, and I hate that you were happy and I took that from you guys. I’m 100% supportive of you being my future step-mom,” she says with a grin, and you roll your eyes again and give her a hug and then jump up to get a shower.

You’re going to go get your old man.

When you knock on Aaron’s door an hour later, he looks surprised to see you.

“I thought you’d be Julie,” he says softly, and you sigh.

“I know. She sent me. She wants us to get our heads out of our asses, but I told her I don’t know where your head is, because we haven’t spoken.” Seeing him makes you feel a little better, because he does look like he may have been moping the last few days, so that must mean the spark is still there, right? “If you want me to leave, just tell me, and I’ll go; I’ll get out of your life and you can pretend it was just a casual thing, if that’s what you want.” Your heart aches at the thought, but you’d understand, if being his daughter’s best friend is an obstacle he can’t overcome.

“I don’t want you to leave,” he says after a long, painfully drawn out moment. “I don’t want you to ever leave. And I could never pretend this was casual.” He steps forward—so handsome in a t-shirt and jeans it makes you long to press kisses all over his face, to hold him and be held by him—and his eyes are trained on yours. “I know nothing about us is conventional, but it doesn’t matter to me if it doesn’t matter to you. I want to be with you.”

You take a deep, calming breath, exhale and nod. Your hands ache to reach out and touch him.

“I want to be with you, but only if you can promise that if something comes up with Jay—Julie—we can figure it out together. I don’t ever want to feel the way I felt the other night, and while I get that you had to take care of your daughter, and I’m glad you two talked things out, I can’t just be abandoned if things get weird.” You approach him, wrap your arms around him, and sigh. He hugs you so tightly, rests his cheek against the top of your head.

“I promise. I know I could have handled that better, but the situation was just so...”

“I know, that’s okay. Family comes first—but just so you know, she gave me her full support to campaign to become her new step-mom,” you say, pulling back with a teasing smile, and he shakes his head and grins. “So, one last question: Are you ready to get back in the saddle, Aaron?” He leans in and kisses you so hard you’re breathless, weaves his fingers into your hair.

“Sounds like my kind of adventure.” Message sent with high importance: Do not disturb! Your dad’s indecent.

J: Gross. Thanks for the warning, mom.

That’s step-mom, to you. Taglist ❤️: @thaddeusly @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner @heliotropehotch @angelhotchner @qtip-blog @gspenc @wishuhadstayed

[omg-im-such-a-masochist]

THE PEACE MAKER

Prompt: Requested, by the lovely @banks4life

Thank you so much for your request babes, I hope you’ll like it 😉

Word Count: Bitch, grab a snack, ‘cuz this is LONG

Pairings: Roman Reigns x Reader x Seth Rollins

Warnings: +18, smut, threesome, anal sex, rough sex, car sex, dom x sub dynamic, name calling, DP (double penetration), fingering, oral sex (female receiving), angst.

Tag: @ziasaph , @marlananicole , @akiko-tanaka , @wickedsunfire , @sassymox , @nicolewoo , @saccreigns , @drewmcintyrekoccsrocbwdgfan , @mindofasagittaruis , @reigns-5sos , @auawdo , @lustyromantic , @babydee17 , @yungbludjazz360 , @theworldofotps , @new-zealand-chic

Notes: This was something people 🥵💦. I have some exciting news! 🤗 From now on I’ll have an official editor. How cool is that? This means no more misspellings for me and you get to enjoy a fic with a nice flow and correctly grammar 🤣 My editor is the incredible and amazing @rheacanbreakme , Annie is the one responsible for helping me with my writing and she is an INCREDIBLE writer as well! So please, if you can, make sure to check her out, you won’t regret it 😉 You can check out my previous fics on my Masterlist, if you’d like. Now, let’s get the fun started, shall we?

Sighing in relief, I placed my bags underneath the stairs and ran quickly towards the kitchen when I heard the commotion coming from there.

The loud screaming and cursing almost made me deaf.

“What is going on in here?” I asked

“Shut the fuck up, fool! You can’t make her cum like that, not even if you tried hard to!” Roman yelled at Seth, completely ignoring me.

“What the fuck did you just say?” Seth ran quickly towards Roman, desperately trying to throw a punch at him

“HEY, HEY, HEY” I yelled as loud as I could, stepping in between their bodies and placing one hand on the chest of both of the men

“C’mon, bitch! I ain’t afraid of you!” Roman teased Seth

“ENOUGH!” I pushed Seth away, making him finally look at me

“You’re choosing his side, Y/N?” Seth asked in disbelief

“I’m not choosing anything! I don’t even know what the hell is going on!”

“It’s pretty simple: Lover boy here was sniffing around my stuff, opened a computer folder called ‘Private’ and found some of our sex videos, did not like what he saw, even though he was the one snooping through other’s business, and now he wants to pick a fight with me because of it” Roman explained

“Seth, why did you open the folder?” I asked

“Because I wanted to see what’s up with it, since he keeps it to himself like it contains the keys to heaven or something”

“It is heaven! As you saw” Roman smirked

“I’m gonna rip your fucking head off!!” Seth ran, and I stopped him

“Seth, don’t!” I pushed him away “And you” I looked at Roman “Stop teasing him”

“He did that shit on purpose, Y/N!” Seth said

“No, I didn’t” Roman defends himself “I was showering, I left it open because I was gonna watch it after! Then you sneaked into my room and decided it was a good idea to open MY personal folder that was in MY MacBook in MY bedroom!”

“Seth, is this true?” I looked into his eyes

“I thought it was pictures or videos of him with another woman! A side chick or something”

“Bitch” Roman scoff “I don’t need a side chick! I CAN keep it in my pants, unlike some other people” Roman measured him with his eyes from head to toe

“ARGH” Seth roared, trying to attack him again

“Goddamn it, STOP!” I grabbed Seth’s face and forced him to look at me “Please, stop” I begged, and he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath

“That was low” I narrowed my eyes at Roman

“What? I didn’t lie” He said, shrugging

“Stop talking, please! You’re not helping at all!”

“Are you gonna defend him, even though he’s wrong?” Roman asked, slightly shocked

“You two, stop with this defending bullshit! I’m not picking anyone’s side! THERE ARE NO SIDES FOR ME TO PICK!” I yelled exasperated, took a deep breath and looked at them “I’m just trying to make sure that neither of you do anything dumb”

When I have both of their attention I continued

“I just got home and instead of having a welcome home kiss I almost got a welcome home punch in the face! Seth, you shouldn’t have invaded Roman’s privacy. We’re supposed to respect each other’s personal space in this house and we all know that personal belongings are off limits and the bedrooms too, unless the owner of the room allows us in. Isn’t that right?” I asked and he nodded

“Good. And Roman, I thought we were all adults who know better than to tease the other person like if we were in 8th grade when that other person is extremely nervous” I looked at him and he mouthed a ‘he started’ and I just stared at him harshly

Roman sighed “Yeah, you’re right”

After a few minutes of silence Seth says

“I have a night class at Black and Brave, so I’m just gonna head off” He whispered to me

“Ok, babe” I caressed his bearded cheek, knowing that this was his way to calm down, even though his class doesn’t start until 3 hours from now.

Seth hugged me tightly, pecking my lips

“I missed you. I’m glad you’re back home” He smiled softly

“Yeah, me too, bubba” I kissed his cheek

“See you later, baby”

“See ya, and be careful!” I followed him to the front door

Seth winked at me as he grabbed his duffle bag, and waved at me once he reached his car, which is when I closed the door

I returned to the kitchen and looked at Roman, who was sipping on a beer bottle

“Did Mrs. Soft Feelings leave already?” He asked

“Ro, that’s not nice! Don’t talk about him like that, you know I don’t like it! But yeah, he left”

“Good” He placed me on top of the kitchen island, completely ignoring what I just said “‘Cuz I’ve wanted to do this ever since I saw you”

Roman’s lips teased my own. Kissing me sensually, taking every chance to nibble at my lips.

“I missed you so fucking much” Roman sighed, hugging me tightly

“I missed you too, big dog” I squeezed his ass cheeks, making him chuckle

“So, our old videos, huh?” I asked

“I missed you. I needed something to ease the pain, you know? I couldn’t get you out of my head”

“Which head?” I giggled

“Both heads” Roman winked

“I think I can help you with that” I replied, dipping my hand inside his sweatpants

“Oh, please do” Roman moaned once my hand closed around his erection “Fuck, it feels so good” Roman rested his forehead on mine “Hmmm baby, just like that...Fuck I missed this”

Roman opened my button up shirt, sinking his head down to the top of my breasts, sucking, licking and biting.

“Your skin is so soft” He whispered against my breasts “Specially your tits. Always drive me insane”

“Roman” I moaned and he grabbed me in his arms, taking us to the living room, where he placed me on the couch before leaning back

“I wanna fuck you so bad” Roman panted, quickly removing his clothes as I did the same.

I moaned loudly when he entered me.

“Isn’t it so good to be home baby girl?” Roman chuckled, mocking me

My walls squeezed around him, making him groan loudly

“That’s so mean of you” He half moaned uncontrollably

“That’s what you get for mocking me”

“I could never!” Roman pretended to be offended, and began to pound mercilessly into me

“You’re so fucking wet...I can tell this pussy missed my cock, didn’t it baby?”

“Oh yes, daddy. So fucking much!”

“That’s it, baby. Scream for daddy”

Roman and I both screamed in pleasure as we came.

“Wanna take a bath?” Roman asked playfully

“Sure, I fucking need one” I giggled

.......................................................................................

“You’re going to sleep with him tonight?”

“Ro, please don’t start with me...You know he has the odd days this month”

“Can I persuade you into forgetting that and staying with me instead?”

“You know that’s not fair”

“Well, I think I should have some type of reward don’t you?”

“For what?”

“Not knocking his teeth down his throat for touching my stuff without permission”

I laughed “Roman, you’re a grown ass man! Please, behave yourself”

“He still deserves a punch!”

“Babe” I said as I sat up on his lap “Please, help me out?! Look” I sighed “You know I’m not one for comparison, but we both also know that it’s no secret you’re way more mature than Seth in some aspects, so I’m begging you: Please don’t do this to me! Don’t stick your head up your ass and become as childish as he is, please? I need someone to deal with the situation as an adult and I know that’s not gonna come from Seth but I do hope it comes from you” I give him some puppy eyes for an extra effects

Roman sighed “Fine. You won! I’ll be the mature one”

“Thank you” I squealed, hugging him tightly

“Yeah, yeah” He chuckled “But I’m already letting you know that the next time he touches my stuff I will break his teeth AND his fingers!”

“Noted!”

…………………………………………………............................

I was waiting for Seth, laying down on his bed, when his bedroom door opened.

“Hey bubba” I smiled, opening my arms for him

Seth smiled widely, jumped on the bed and hugged me tightly

“Ah, I missed this” He said, inhaling the perfume on my neck

I giggled, asking “So, how was the night class?”

“Good, but I know what can be better” He smirked, pinning me down on the mattress...

The next morning I had an early class at college so I was the first one to wake up, followed by Seth

“What are you doing up so soon?” He asked, hugging me from behind as I waited for my toast to be ready

“I have an early class”

“Come back to bed” He mumbled against my shoulder

“Bubba, I can’t!” I chuckled softly “You know that”

“But we miss you” Seth pressed his hard on against my butt cheeks

“I know but I really can’t” I turned around and softly kissed his neck “But we can fix that later if you‘d like” I winked at him

Seth sighed heavily “Fine” He murmured, slightly upset

“C’mon bubs, don’t be like that” I hugged him tightly “I need papa waiting for me when I come back home” I smiled when his eyes shifted to his Dom mode, which often happened whenever I called him papa

“Are you gonna let me make a video with you too, so I can have my own?” Seth asked, with a raspy voice

“I’ll let you do whatever you want with me” I leaned forward, reached his ear and whispered “Papa” Giggling, when I felt the pressure of his grip around my neck

“We’re going to have so much fun when you come back” Seth laughed coldly

“Hmmm, I can’t wait for it!”

.......................................................................................

As soon as I got home, I opened the front door and felt a forceful tug on my right arm

“Ouch, Seth what the fuck?” I asked

The only reply I received was being tossed on his shoulder as he ran to his bedroom.

From the couch, Roman just stared at us until our figures disappeared up the stairs.

Seth loudly shut his bedroom door, soon after saying “Take your clothes off, now!” He quickly set up his phone upon the night stand and he took the lube bottle out of his bedside table

I gave him a questioning look and he said

“I’m about to fucking explode! I really cannot endure foreplay. Not right now!”

Seth squirted some lube on his length and rubbed his cock all over my folds, making me moan loudly.

Soon after, we heard the front door open and close forcefully.

“Uh, somebody must be having a bad day” Seth laughed, amused

I slapped his shoulder lightly “Don’t talk about him like that”

Seth’s eyes grew dark and suddenly I had one hand around my neck, choking me hard and another hand rubbing my clit in fast circles.

“Since when do you hit me like that? Have you forgot who’s in charge, princess? Does papa have to remind you about that?”

I can feel my eyes closing from both pleasure and pain, and my mind going numb from the choking.

Seth quickly loosened the pressure around my neck and lightly slapped my face

“No no no, you’re not gonna pass out on me now, are you?” He laughed deviously “I love when you get like that, speechless...whenever that happens, you become my favorite play toy! Just laying there, all pretty and quiet, just waiting for me to fuck you...use you as I like” Seth bit my cheek “Don’t you like being used, baby?” He asked, staring at me

“Yes, I love it” I panted

“Of course you love it!” Seth licked from my chin to my lips “You love it because, you’re my filthy little whore” He chuckled and quickly began to fuck me until I was screaming uncontrollably

……………………………………………………..

It is the next day and I’m leaving the main building on campus when I heard someone honk, and then call for me. I turned around to find Roman

“Hi, baby girl” He smiled widely

I leaned on the driver’s window to give him a kiss

“What are you doing here?” I asked, surprised

“Well, I just left the gym and I remembered that you leave college earlier on friday’s so I came to pick you up” Roman winked

“Are you leaving already?” He asked

“Yep!” I answered, giving him my books and backpack so he could toss it on the back seat, while I made my way to the passenger’s seat

“Why didn’t you let me know you were coming? I could have waited for you in the front building”

“Nah, it’s ok. I didn’t take that long to find you” He cackled “And also because I wanted to surprise you” Roman took my hand in his, intertwining our fingers and placing a soft kiss on the back of my hand

“Well, I’m happy you came to pick me up” I leaned forward and placed a kiss on the side of his full lips

“C’mon, really? We haven’t been together in two days and that’s all I get? An ‘I’m a virgin, please be gentle’ kiss?” He laughed

“What?” I played dumb

“Baby...c’mon, show your man some love, will you?” Roman placed one big hand on my thigh and squeezed

“Ro, you’re driving. We can’t do that!” I pretended to be in shock with his request

“You really gonna make me stop the car and fuck you in the middle of the street? Because you know I will!”

“Of course you wouldn’t!” I teased, knowing that would make him park the car and fuck me senseless.

Roman quickly pulled over, next to an alley and turned the car off. Unbuckling his seatbelt, Roman said

“Take off your panties and straddle my lap” He pulled his half hard cock out of his pants, licked his palm and began to stroke it to complete hardness.

Just the sight of his rock hard member was enough to make me damp. I straddled his lap and Roman teased me with the tip of his cock, rubbing up and down my folds, from my clit to my entrance.

“Daddy, please” I begged

“What do you want, baby girl? Tell daddy”

“I want you to fuck me, please...Please fuck me good like only you can do” I pleaded

Roman finally stopped teasing me after my last plea, and entered my core.

“Fuck daddy...so deep” I gasped

He grabbed me by my hair, pulling me forcefully to him. Kissing my lips like his life depended on it

“You like me buried deep inside of you, don’t you baby?” Roman panted

“I love it! I love it so fucking much” I moaned

Romans thrusts were vigorous and merciless. Even though we didn’t had that much space in the car, he still managed to find the perfect angle to make me feel dizzy.

“Fuck, look at that” He pulled the front of my dress up, so he could see his dick going in and out of me “Look how well you take me, baby. How you take every fucking inch...You’re so fucking perfect” Roman said, pulling my face to his and kissing my lips, while he grabbed two fistfuls of my hair, to keep me in place….

…………………………………………………………………………

Saturday’s night are always low for the three of us, not much to do unless we decided to chill on the couch and watch some tv. But since finals are coming, I was finishing one of my reports in my room when I heard the beginning of an argument coming faintly from the living room.

I rolled my eyes before making my way downstairs, to see what the problem was this time, which happened to be the fourth time today I had to settle an argument between the boys.

“What the hell? Can’t you two stop fighting for one goddamn second?” I screamed

“He started it” They said at the same time

*I swear, it’s like living with children* I thought to myself

“What is it?” I asked, briefly

“He ate my greek yogurt” Roman said

“I was hungry! And I didn’t see your name on it, pal” Seth answered

“I’m the only one in this house who eats the fucking yogurt!” Roman yelled

“Well, I was in the mood to eat it and so I did! As far as I remember, the food is for everybody who lives here, isn’t it?” Seth asked, placing his hands on his hips

“But the yogurt was mine!” Roman roared

“Enough!” I screamed “Shut the fuck up the both of you, now!” I tugged at my hair in exasperation

They stared at me speechless and I used that moment to let my anger flow

“I can’t believe that two grown ass men in their thirties are fighting over yogurt! You have got to be kidding me! I can’t understand how me, in my 21 years old, have to intervene in your stupid and pointless baby level of immaturity fights! I’m tired of being the only adult in this fucking house and as far as I’m concerned, you two can literally kill each other from now on, because I DON’T GIVE A DAMN ANYMORE!” I yelled and returned to my bedroom.

One hour later, I heard a knock on my bedroom door, but decided to ignore it.

The knocking persisted, until I yelled

“What?”

“Can we come in?” Seth asked

“No!” I answered

“C’mon baby girl, please? We just want to apologize to you, that’s all” Roman said

“Yeah? What for? Just so you can begin fighting again 30 minutes from now?” I spat

“Babe, please hear us out? We’re begging you” Seth said

I opened my bedroom door and found them standing there, with matching guilty looks on their faces

“Fine, but if you start arguing again-“

“We won’t” Both responded in unison

I made my way to my bed and they both entered the room.

“Talk” I said, when I sat at the edge of my the bed

“We would like to apologize to you, for all the bickering and fighting” Seth said

“Yeah, we realized that it senseless and uncalled for” Roman began

“And stupid, childish, annoying, ridiculous” I interrupted him

“True, it’s just that, we ended up getting caught up in the stress of everything, letting the pent up anger out on each other, and didn’t even realized how much stress we caused you by acting like we did” Seth said, coming closer to the bed and sitting by my side “Do you forgive me?” He whispered

I sighed heavily “Yes, I do, bubba” I pecked his lips

“And what about me?” Roman asked, now also sitting by my side

“Of course I forgive you too, handsome” I also pecked his lips

“Would you let us make it up to you?” Seth whispered in my ear

“Yes”

I gasped when Seth’s lips began to kiss my neck, while Roman quickly grabbed the hem of my oversized t-shirt and pulled up, revealing my naked body underneath it. Wasting no time, Roman sucked one nipple into his mouth as Seth turned my head towards him, so he could kiss my lips.

I moaned softly when Seth’s fingers began to rub my clit and Roman’s lips took over kissing me passionately.

“You like this, don’t you babe? You’re so fucking wet” Seth moaned, dipping two fingers in me

“What do you need, baby?” Roman asked as Seth’s fingers moved at a frantic pace

“I need your mouth on me, daddy. As papa’s fingers fuck me” I said, making Roman smirk

He leaned down and began to suck my clit as Seth finger fucked me.

It didn’t take me long to reach my orgasm, cumming hard.

“Who do you want where, baby girl?” Roman briefly asked

“I want you on my pussy first” I answered

Roman positioned himself on my entrance as Seth stood behind me, with the lube on his hand

Roman buried himself deeply and waited for Seth to enter my puckered hole before they began to thrust, finding a rhythm that could be pleasurable for the three of us.

“Oh, just like that” I moaned when they found the perfect pace

“Hmmm, baby you’re even tighter” Roman moaned “Do you like when Seth fucks your ass while I fuck your pussy, baby?” He asked

“Oh yes, I fucking love it! I feel so fucking full!” I panted

“You love being full with dick, right baby?” Seth whispered softly

“So fucking much!” I giggled

“You ready to switch?” Roman asked Seth

“Fuck yeah!” Was his answer

They switched and I felt even fuller. With Roman now in my ass and being thicker than Seth, he pushed my walls tighter, making it difficult for Seth to enter me

“Fuck, fuck, fuck I’m gonna cum” Seth moaned loudly once he finally entered me

“Don’t you fucking dare” I screamed, moaning

Roman began to move and so did Seth. The feeling was so good, I was literally drooling all over myself

“Fuck babe, you’re drooling. You look so fucking hot!” Seth said in awe

“Are you drooling because it feels so good, baby girl?” Roman asked

“Yes, daddy” I squealed

“Roman, she’s gonna cum...fuck, she’s so tight” Seth said as he began to cum, triggering my own release

Roman quickly pulled out and came on my ass, moaning and panting

The three of us crashed into the mattress, giggling and sighing.

“This was fun” Roman said

“Yeah, it was really hot” Seth laughed

“Would you like to do that again?” I smirked

“Fuck yeah!” They answered

As one bearded face moved to my breasts and the other one roamed down to my...

Please if you’re comfortable with it, let me know your thoughts on this? Feedbacks are always appreciated 🥰😘

[1kook]

netflix & chill

summary If you planned things right, you could rain down your raging displeasure on Jeon Jungkook right after the meal but before this proposed ‘Netflix and chilling,’ maybe dramatically throw your glass of wine at him, before storming out of his place and reporting him to the authorities (Namjoon) for his douchebag personality. warnings grinding, 2 seconds of sub kook, oral (f), cum eating, vanilla but [ passionate ], unprotected sex, dirty talk tags use of the oldest trick in the book (“your hands are sooo big”), shy oblivious AND gentleman jk? pick a struggle, brief ment of app developer kook, evil and conniving oc wc 10.2k !! wow!!

will I ever write a serious jk fic? NO. this entire thing was based off this pic of jungkook which i’ve said before that i would print out in sepia filter and crumple and stuff in a drawer n then tell my kids 35 years from now was a long lost lover i met on a cruise to the bahamas and never saw again ty to mia more @daechwlta​ for being there during my brief crisis over this fic 🥺

When Namjoon had first not so subtly mentioned the idea of setting you up on a date, it was with a faux air of disinterest that you had masterfully pried the details out of him. Namjoon has a friend, he said, a friend who was kinda sorta attached to his hip. And while Namjoon loved the kid, he also thought this friend could use some social interaction outside of Namjoon.

Now you and Namjoon weren’t exactly the most conventional of friends for him to be proposing blind dates to you at whim. He was your senior at school, your mentor in your scholarship program, an educated man studying for his masters. So when he’d first uttered the words you were immediately on the fence. Sure, the two of you knew each other well and probably got along better than most mentor-mentee pairings among your year, but you doubt Namjoon knew enough of your tastes to offer you up for a blind date.

According to Namjoon, his friend was a kid in the same year as you, making him not so much as a kid as he was your classmate. You brushed it off at first, spewing some bullshit excuse that you’d rather focus on your studies, and how dating was a distraction to your education, as if you hadn’t spent the weekend prior binge watching some Spanish novella while you dutifully ignored your essay.

The second time Namjoon mentions it you agree on the spot. Life on campus could only be interesting for so long, so you might as well make the best of it and go on as many stupid dates as possible.

Namjoon is over the moon.

He tells you he’ll pass your phone number on over to that friend of his—“Jeon Jungkook”—and promises you you won’t regret this because his friend was amazing, really. And for Namjoon to sing his praises for just any underclassmen was unheard of. In fact, besides you, you don’t think Namjoon knows many other students younger than him, and if he did, you hardly doubt he would regard them so highly.

So he gives his friend your number, and so ends your weekly meeting with your mentor. You only realize on the walk back to your dorm that you forgot to ask him about some club at school, the whole goal of this week’s meeting, but by then you don’t really care, the whole conversation fading into the background.

In fact, you forget about the whole ordeal until Friday night rolls around and you’re once again, binge watching another novella on your laptop, when your phone suddenly vibrates.

You were by no means a loser at school, a friendless nobody, but you were also not the outgoing, school-spirited student on the front page of your school’s website, and thus had nearly every app that could produce a notification on your phone muted, every text thread silenced. The only notifications and messages you allowed were from your email and from your roommate, and considering the fact Doyeon was face down in a puddle of her own mid-semester tears right across from you, it was probably your email.

Much to your surprises, it isn’t that “Monday’s Class is CANCELLED” email you were hoping for, but instead some unknown number in a text notification. You roll your eyes, click it open thinking it’s a reminder from some store or from some guy claiming to be from your bank, only to pause at the words written inside the little grey bubble.

hey its jungkook!!! joon gave me your number to I guess ask you on a date soo are you free tmrw night??

The excessive punctuation reminds you a little bit of your kid sister back home and the dorky emails she’ll send you from time to time. It’s with that memory and a smile on your face, that you’re suddenly reminded of what exactly this message is saying. “Oh shit,” you mumble, moving to sit up and reread the text. Doyeon complaining loudly in the background has you reading it twice more before you understand it, and by then there’s a fluttery feeling in your chest.

You were by no means easily swayed by people, but this guy had received praise from Kim Namjoon of all people, so he definitely had some prestige to his name. He doesn’t seem overbearing from this one text he’d sent, but he also didn’t seem completely disinterested.  

You try to match his nonchalant energy, letting him know you were in fact free and down to meet him, just to let you know more details.

You won’t lie, there’s a giddy feeling bubbling within you at the prospect of getting all dolled up, hitting the town, pawning a free meal off some unsuspecting college soul, and maybe even hitting it off. It’s been a while since you’ve dated, sue you.

Jeon Jungkook’s response crushes those dreams as well as hurdles you straight into a nightmare.

cool!! was thinking i could cook for us at my place, drink a little wine, maybe Netflix and chill a little bit??

You are blown away by the absolute gall of this man, to butter you up by painting a pretty picture only to reduce you to a mere booty call. The fact he had felt confident enough to say all that within the same sentence blows your mind.

Did this Jeon Jungkook, who you had no idea of what he looked like, who had no idea of what you looked like, seriously just invite you over for some quote unquote Netflix and chill?

Who, in the ever living hell, was this guy who so sleazily invited women over to fuck with no qualms about who they were?

You’re offended that Namjoon would set you up like this, pawn you off to such a greasy friend. But then again, you guess not everyone knows their friends thoroughly, because this Jeon Jungkook flirtatiously inviting your over for some sex sounds nothing like the golden boy Kim Namjoon had raved about earlier this week. You click your phone off, tapping the device against your lips as you ponder how to best rip this jerk to shreds via text.

It’s amidst Doyeon cursing out her statistics teacher that an idea hits you.

Tomorrow was Saturday night, and as far as you knew, you really didn’t have anything else going on for you anyway. You’d take Jeon Jungkook’s offer, let him cook you a free meal and drink some of his wine. He mentioned having his own place, and vaguely you remember Namjoon saying he lived alone, hence his introverted tendencies, so you could slip in and out without doing that walk of shame through a boy’s dorm hall.

Not that there would be anything to feel shameful about. In fact, if you planned things right, you could rain down your raging displeasure on Jeon Jungkook right after the meal but before this proposed ‘Netflix and chilling,’ maybe dramatically throw your glass of wine at him, before storming out of his place and reporting him to the authorities (Namjoon) for his douchebag personality.

Ha! That would certainly teach the asshole not to use his poor, unsuspecting friends to reel in nice girls like you into one night stands.

You could practically feel the devil horns begging to poke out of your skull, the forked tail wiggling behind you, as you click your phone back on and text Jeon Jungkook a great!! what’s your address :)

——

Saturday morning and afternoon are as boring as they usually are. You do a little homework, and spend thirty minutes filling Doyeon in on your master plan, which she eats up and even gives you some pointers—“and then you can be like, ‘you sick freak, as if I’d let you near this 5-star, Michelin reviewed, Gordon Ramsey approved coochie’ and throw the whole plate at his head!”—before getting ready for your little date at Jeon Jungkook’s.

You try hard to look good, harder than you would have if he hadn’t offended you by reducing you to a booty call, and Doyeon helps. She does your eyebrows all nice and natural, dusts the thinnest shin of liquid highlighter across the high points of your face, the whole shebang until you’re looking like a sexy, glowing goddess. You shimmy into a pretty dress, nothing too fancy nor too casual, and even pull on those strappy sandals you’d bought on sale last winter before blowing a kiss to Doyeon and meeting your Uber downstairs.

You don’t quite remember what the reason behind Jeon Jungkook living in such a swanky neighborhood a few minutes from campus was, if it was from a job you vaguely recall Namjoon mentioning, or if it was just purely hereditary, but his place is nice. It’s a connected townhouse, something you’d expect a newly wed couple to live in and not some douchebag third year.

Worse comes to worse, you get banned from this rich neighborhood after humiliating one of its residents in his own home, not that you’d ever make it big enough to live here anyway.

You’d texted Namjoon sometime that morning to let him know you were meeting his friend, an ominous text with an even more ominous smiley face attached to it. But it seems Namjoon is easily blinded by underclassmen he trusts, if Jeon Jungkook’s assholish feats and your own suspicious behavior is anything to go by, because he texts you back a polite have fun! he’s a little shy, so it might take a while for the ball to start rolling hahahaha.

Shy my ass, you think closing the door of your Uber behind you. You double check the address that had been texted to you, walking up to the neat townhouse and knocking against the polished door.

It’s a little chilly, and you hope finding an Uber is easier later tonight when you make your grand escape. It’s between these thoughts that the door swings open, revealing the most handsome man you’ve ever met.

He’s attractive, disgustingly so, with dark hair and light brown tips to contrast, tickling his cheekbones. His dark eyes are round and imploring as they meet yours, gaze almost innocent and doe like as he takes you in. He’s got this soft, blue turtleneck on, and it looks like it should be a seasonal sweater reserved for the holidays but he pulls it off nicely on this premature spring night. His pretty pink lips move, and it takes you a second to realize he’s talking.

“___?” He says, and his voice is deep, yet soft in its own unique way. You nod, like a stupid bobble head, because your throat constricted the moment this beautiful angel opened the door. “It’s cold outside, come in!” He urges you, out stretching his palm to make sure you don’t trip over the slight step up the door as he brings you into his home.

“Hi,” he exhales when you’re finally inside, standing a little too close to you in his small entryway.

“Hi,” you finally choke out, a little dazed by how handsome he is, and the sudden realization that you’re supposed to throw your glass of wine at him tonight because he’s a douchebag dawns on you. You blink yourself out of your stupor, taking a step back and gesturing towards your sandal clad feet.

“Oh!” Jeon Jungkook exclaims at the sudden realization. “I forgot to set out a pair of slippers for you,” he sheepishly admits, before he excuses himself to go get some. There’s a tiny ottoman pushed against the wall, beneath a long mirror, that you take a seat on it, carefully unstrapping your sandals.

All the while, you’re deep in thought.

It makes sense that someone like Jeon Jungkook was so forward in inviting you over for sex during your first interaction. Realistically speaking, the guy had it all. He lived alone in a swanky townhouse in a wealthy neighborhood (you finally remember Namjoon saying he did some app developing for major companies—yeah, still in college but already making it big because he was that good), and looked like the blueprint for the perfect man, someone who’d impress your parents. On top of that, the man was was a 21st century Adonis. You hadn’t missed the flash of ink on his knuckles, or the way his jeans had hugged his legs.

He’s making his way back now, inspecting the slippers in his hands, and you don’t miss the way the jeans are pulled taut around his thighs in particular.

Yeah, he definitely knew his way around a woman’s body, there was no way he couldn’t have.

You slip your feet into the slippers he places before you, wiggling your toes around, before glancing back at Jungkook. He smiles warmly, a little beauty mark beneath his lip making itself known. He takes your hand, pulls you up onto your feet, and begins guiding you down the hall and to what you assume is the kitchen.

“I didn’t know what you liked, and I figured asking you three hours before you came over would be too awkward,” he laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. He glances at you again, and upon seeing your inquisitive stare, quickly turns away with flushed cheeks.

Oh this man knew the game, and he knew it well.

Jeon Jungkook still thinks he can play that cute campus boy being set up by his senior card now, after he’d shown you his true colors last night via text. But he has a big storm coming. As much as you could admit he was good to look at, you would not be fooled by some pretty face and tasty food. No, you came here with one goal and one goal only, and that was to give Jeon Jungkook a piece of his own two-faced medicine before running off to tattle to Namjoon.

You reach the kitchen and the heavenly smell of Alfredo sauce swarms your nostrils. “I… I’m still new to cooking, so I hope you don’t mind some Alfredo pasta,” he admits, shy smile adorning his features as he avoids your gaze once again to toy with the dish towel by the sink.

You creep closer to the counter, where two meticulously presented ceramic plates sit beside a wine bottle, and the glands in your mouth suddenly go into overdrive in their rush to make you salivate, and you choke out an overly eager, “it looks amazing!” before you know it.

Okay, you came here with two goals.

——

Jungkook carries the two bowls in his big hands to the dining room beside the kitchen, and you follow behind with the bottle of wine and two glasses as you set the table together. The utensils are already there, but Jungkook runs back into the kitchen anyway to return with some fancy cloth napkins for the two of you.

Just as you're tugging a chair out to sit, Jungkook beats you to it. “Ah, let me,” he smiles, and your heart thunders nervously in your chest as you return the expression, brushing your hands beneath you before sitting down and letting him push you in. Jungkook takes his own seat in front of you, and before you can dig in he calls out to seemingly nobody, “Alexa, dim the dining room lights.”

The overhead lights dim, and with their overbearing glow gone, you can finally appreciate the battery powered candles snuggled neatly into a little bowl on the table between you two. You ooh appreciatively, and Jungkook looks proud of himself.

Then, he says, “Alexa, play…Date Night Playlist.”

You blink, and a soft piano tune begins filtering through a speaker he’s hidden somewhere in the room. Even with the fake candles being your main source of light, the flush on Jungkook’s cheeks is evident as he gestures towards you to eat.

You won’t lie. Jeon Jungkook was extremely endearing.

This much becomes evident the further you get into the meal. As small talk devolves into full fledged conversations and story telling, his shy demeanor slipping away but still sticking to the edges of his personality, you begin to have a more difficult time connecting this Jungkook to the one who had less than 24 hours ago asked you to come over and “Netflix and chill” with him.

But the more you speak, the more distant that image begins to feel. For one, Jungkook does put on a fairly reserved aura for you, telling you about his job but refusing to brag about it even when you egg him on. He has no qualms gassing up his friends, Namjoon in particular, who Jungkook claims is his role model for some unknown reason, given the fact they are neither in the same major nor in any of the same clubs. They’re friends, point blank period, but Namjoon is very obviously a star in Jungkook’s eyes.

Additionally, he’s quite embarrassed to admit why Namjoon had been so set on getting Jungkook to date, but eventually tells you it’s because Jungkook’s last girlfriend had been during your freshman year—two whole years ago! It makes you wonder what he’d been doing since then, if he’d used the time to fully invest in his work or if he’d been mingling around, unbeknownst to his friends, which would explain the flirtatious offer that landed you here.

Still, a part of you refuses to believe last night’s Jungkook and tonight’s Jungkook were one in the same, and if they were, what had made this shy man so unabashedly invite you over for some sex. Was this act all a ploy? Or maybe, was he purposefully trying to ward you away by coming off as a gentleman now that he’d seen your face and wasn’t interested in you anymore?

Apparently it’s neither of the two, and you don’t realize this until you finish your meal and make your way into his living room to finally get down to the long awaited Netflix and chilling. It’s only when you sit down on the couch, smack dab in the middle, because at this point, you’re not gonna throw your wine at Jeon Jungkook like you planned, he was too nice. And if this niceness was an act to get in your panties, you didn’t care at this point. He was hot, achingly so, and at least you’d get a good fuck out of it.

But as you said, apparently not. Because Jeon Jungkook sees you purposefully take up the entire middle of the couch, sultry eyes staring him down, and decides to sit flush against the armrest, somehow leaving a good foot between the two of you, despite the fact you’re sitting next to each other.

Your brain can’t work fast enough to comprehend the situation, before he’s asking you what you want to watch. “Um,” you say, pointedly staring at him and not the screen. “Tr-Transformers?”

The way Jungkook’s eyes light up is insane, already round eyes nearly popping out of their sockets as he eagerly rushes to select it from whatever streaming service he has, probably not even Netflix, all the while chattering on about how much he loves that series, and is so glad you do too.

The whole time, you’re struck by the oddness of his casual tone, the way he’s overly invested in the 20th Century Fox opening, and how he’s very carefully avoiding intruding in on your personal space.

The last point in particular has you wanting to pull your hair out, because you want Jeon Jungkook intruding in on your personal space. You want him pressed so tightly against you you can’t breathe, you can’t move, until you’re drowning in him as he finally lives up to his promise of some Netflix and chill, because you want him, and you want him so. very. bad.

“Oh, I forgot the popcorn!” Jungkook exclaims, and you jump at the sudden volume of his voice, because he’d been pretty silent as he avidly watched the first few minutes of the movie. “Sorry,” he chuckles, and his leg brushes against yours as he shuffles between you and the coffee table on his way out. You vaguely hear the popping of the popcorn in the kitchen, but you’re too distracted by your suddenly overwhelming thoughts.

Okay, one thing was for sure, and that was that Jeon Jungkook definitely had no fucking idea what the phrase Netflix and chill meant, because the way he’d zeroed in on the movie and the popcorn, and not you, was unheard of on such invitations. You deduce he probably heard it somewhere, and, now understanding the true nature of Jungkook’s sweet and shy personality, made no such perverted connection to the phrase.

Which meant he most definitely did not demean you to a mere booty call, like you’d deluded yourself into believing, someone he could hump and dump with no regrets, before calling Namjoon up to thank him. Which meant he’d had no ulterior motives in meeting you tonight, just planning to get to know you at the suggestion of his friend, and had—unbeknownst to him—successfully wooed you thus far.

Which was great! If you turned a blind eye to the evil, conniving plans you’d made without even meeting the guy, and the subsequent flood of self-inflicted disapproval when you realized Jeon Jungkook was a sweetheart who definitely did not deserve having a glass of wine thrown at his face after making you a home cooked meal and giving you the full Olive Garden experience, with his dimmed lights and candlelit dinner and piano music on the background.

Yeah. Perfectly fine.

The only problem now was that you had become so dangerously smitten with the man that you wanted to sleep with him. You wanted that Netflix and chill, needed it like it was the last slot in a daycare class and you were a soccer mom of five wanting to get at least one kid out of the house for the summer for the sake of her own sanity. You were desperate.

No, you scold yourself. This was fine, this was good, this was perfectly okay. If anything, this just further made you enamored with Jungkook, because it proved how gentlemanly he was by not trying to sleep with you on the first date.

But that didn’t mean he didn’t want to, the devil on your shoulder crooned.

The microwave in the kitchen stops, and you hear the sound of cabinets opening as Jungkook pours the popcorn into a bowl. On screen, the main character is meeting a bunch of giant cars-turned-robots, you don’t fucking know.

But the devil was right.

Jungkook hadn’t offered to sleep with you, but that didn’t mean he didn’t want to. Furthermore, that didn’t mean he couldn’t be seduced into wanting to, your evil brain suggested, and the hope that had slithered it’s way into your chest from the very moment Jungkook had opened the door, took that fact and ran with it.

“What’d I miss?” Jungkook says when he returns, popcorn bowl in hand.

“Oh, um, he was with the car,” you offer, trying to stop the nefarious smirk from slipping onto your features. Jungkook laughs, cute and airy as he shuffles past you.

He’s too absorbed in the screen, not looking as he sits down, closer than last time until his thigh brushes yours and he jerks back in embarrassment. “Oh, sorry,” he flounders, goes to move away but you act fast.

You grab onto his upper arm with both of yours like an octopus, keeping him flush to you as you gaze up at him with wide eyes. “No, it’s okay,” you rush to assure him, loosening your hold as he tentatively relaxes beside you. You glance down at the popcorn bowl in his hand, swiping a piece to pop between your lips. “It’s easier for us this way,” you say, and you’re pulling that straight out of your ass, because you hate popcorn and have literally zero desire for it and wouldn’t have reached for it anyway if you weren’t trying to convince him this was all for popcorn sharing purposes.

Jungkook’s eyes briefly flicker down to where you’re munching on that popcorn, your lips, before he’s quickly averting his gaze. “Ah, y-yeah,” he agrees, and though he tries to relax back into the couch, you can still feel the tension of his muscles as he settles beside you.

With his eyes no longer trained on you, you snuggle closer into his side resting your cheek against the soft material covering his shoulder, finally letting that devious smirk slip onto your face. You keep yourself close to Jungkook, loving the way his warmth permeates the thick sweater he’s wearing, even if he’s still overly into the movie. You know he’s seen it before, because he keeps telling you random tidbits like, “they use this in the next movie!” Or “he ends up becoming really important in the sixth movie,” and you want to listen to this endearing nerd’s commentary, you really do, but once your brain is stuck on horny, it is stuck on horny.

He doesn’t even eat a lot of popcorn, setting it down not ten minutes later onto the coffee table. You release him as he moves forward, but quickly latch onto him again when he sits back down.

Much to your surprise, Jungkook is way more relaxed then, shrugging you off to rest his hand on the couch behind you, and you inwardly squeal at the prospect of getting to cuddle up to his body, and not just his arm. You cuddle in close to him, leaving your slippers on the ground as you tuck your legs up onto the couch cushions.

Jungkook is so warm and firm, and you know it’s your horny brain speaking, but you swear you feel a tight set of abs underneath the palm you rest on his stomach, and you give an experimental brush over the area. His heart picks up, you hear it by where your head is leaning against his chest, and you tilt your head up to give him a curious glance. His cheeks are red, and he doesn’t look at you even though you know he sees you, so you decide to kick things up a notch.

You sigh loudly, peeling yourself away from him to properly level him with a pout. “Jungkook, aren’t you hot in this?” You ask, pinching the wooly material between two fingers and pulling it from his skin. Jungkook finally looks away from the screen, nibbling his lower lip as he takes in your quizzical expression.

“Um, only a little… but it’s fine!” He rushes to say, and you recall from your conversations over dinner that Jungkook doesn’t much like people fussing over him, so you quickly change gears.

You press a hand against your cheek, the same one that had been resting against his shoulder earlier. “Oh, well… it’s really itchy,” you announce, and his eyes widen, one hand absentmindedly reaching to clutch the material at his chest. “It’s making me really itchy,” you emphasize, and part of you feels bad for taking advantage of his caring nature, but this is all for the greater good, you convince yourself. “Do you mind taking it off?”

“I, uh, yeah,” he agrees, reaching for the hem of his sweater before carefully peeling it off. When he pulls it over his head, you can’t help the triumphant grin that overtakes your face, though you quickly mask it when he finally frees himself from the material. “Better?” He says once he’s clad in only a plain black shirt.

“Mm, much,” you sigh, and nearly soak your panties then and there when a tattooed sleeve comes into view. “Woah!” You exclaim, snatching his wrists up to examine his skin. “What’s this?” You marvel, tracing every inch of delicious skin with your predatory gaze. Jungkook huffs out a laugh, and you glance up to watch as he rubs the back of his neck in that same embarrassed way he’d done multiple times throughout your night together.

“My tattoos,” he says, and then seems to realize the simplicity of his statement and rushes to add to it, “I hope you don’t mind?”

You hum, shifting onto your knees to face him as you continue tracing over a huge tiger lily by his forearm. “Why would I? It’s your body,” you say, and watch the nervous glance melt off his face as he regards you with something new. Something akin to wonder as he lets you trace over more of his ink, nodding along to your words.

“Yeah… yeah!” He agrees, and you grin at his sudden zeal. He chuckles, physically relaxing beneath your touch, and it’s probably the most relaxed he’s been all night as you continue rubbing your hands over every tattoo on his skin, and then purposefully focusing on the ones near his bicep. “Sorry, ‘m just used to people pushing off their own opinions about them onto me,” he explains, and for a moment, the horniness that had been fueling you all night fades away, and you let your hands trail down, past his wrist, until you’re sandwiching his hand between yours.

“Fuck what anyone else thinks,” you tell him, eyes hard as you imagine anyone imposing their stupid thoughts on Jungkook, who was too good for this world. “If you think they’re cool, then they're the coolest thing in the world.”

He smiles at you, and you’ve seen this smile about a million times tonight—when you first came in, when you talked about yourself at dinner, when you mentioned this stupid movie—but it has something swelling in your chest. Something too intimate for a first date, so you quickly move to repress it.

Glancing down at his hand in yours, littered with smaller tattoos across his knuckles, your brain whirls into action. Bringing it up between the two of you, you turn his hand over to line your palms up. “Wow, your hands are so big,” you sigh, slowly reverting back to dirty thoughts as you twist yours and Jungkook’s hands this way and that. He snorts, bends the tips of his fingers over yours just to hear you ooooh again.

“Yeah, they’re pretty big,” he agrees, completely ignoring the film playing on the screen, which is a huge win in your eyes considering how deeply he’d been watching it earlier.

Finally, you see an opening and pounce.

“Well, that means something else is pretty big too,” you murmur, chancing a glance up at his face. His face is the perfect definition of composed, and you can tell when exactly he processes your words because those little pink lips part in surprise, red slowly filling the apples of his cheeks. You let go of his palm, letting it slide between your fingers until it falls limp beside him.

Jungkook watches you with wide eyes, as you raise yourself up onto your knees. “Jungkook?” You mumble, giving him no warning before you’re throwing a leg across his lap, knees pressed into the couch on either side of his thighs.

“Y-Yes?” He stutters, brown hair falling away from his face as he stares up at you. You flash him a sweet smile, and you can tell it relaxes him because his fists unclench beside him.

“You’re a really nice boy,” you sigh, and when you’ve scooted your knees a little closer to his ridiculously thin waist, you finally let yourself sit. You find yourself right before his crotch, which he desperately tries to hide as he shifts around, but can’t with you on top of him. You let your hands flutter to rest at his shoulders, and he gulps. “You’re so sweet and cute,” you add, relish in the flush that climbs up to his ears. “But I’m a little sad you invited me over to Netflix and chill, but won’t do just that,” you pout, a finger tangling itself in a soft strand at the back of his head.

“Huh?” He stutters, eyes nearly bulging out when you wiggle around again. “I-I’m sorry?” He huffs, and when you move too close to his crotch, where his jeans are slowly growing more and more strained, he panics and reaches a hand out to steady your waist.

You feign confusion, flashing him another pout as you duck closer until your noses bump against each other. “You know what it means, don’t you, Jungkook?” You inquire, eyes falling dangerously lidded as you swallow up every inch of his appearances.

He stutters, hands moving up and down as if he doesn’t know where to put them anymore. But you know exactly where Jungkook can put those hands, and you waste no time catching his wrists in your hands to guide him towards your hips. “No?” He breathes, fingers flexing against you, and you smile sweetly at him.

“It means,” you purr, shifting forward until you’re flush against where you need him most. You can barely contain the whimper that climbs out of your throat when you finally feel the rough material of his jeans against your panties. “It means you wanna fuck, Jungkook,” you exhale, tossing your head back as your body basks in the slight reprieve, the way Jungkook squirms beneath you aiding greatly in providing that sensation you craved.

“It’s nothing more than an excuse,” you huff, placing a hand on the back of his neck to steady yourself. At your touch, Jungkook jolts, thighs jumping beneath you and you stifle another groan when the zipper of his jeans prods against your core. “For you to fuck my brains out while some s-stupid movie plays in the background.”

You’re not sure when, but sometime during that last explanation your hands had fully delved into the thick tresses of Jungkook’s hair. You give an experimental tug, and poor Jungkook, so lost in all that you’re telling him, lolls his head back for you easily until the long expanse of his neck is available, soft creamy skin yours for the taking.

You pounce, kissing the skin gently at first, before sprinkling in a handful of nibbles. He’s sensitive, devastatingly so, as he gasps at a particular suck. You suction your lips on the spot below his ear, carefully biting down on the skin as he unravels beneath you. “Will you do it, Jungkookie?” You murmur against the shell of his ear,

He nods eagerly, and his fingers hurt where he’s pressed them deep into your waist, like he’s trying to brand you as his with his mere strength alone. “Y-Yes,” he exhales, hips jerking when you swipe your tongue over the pretty mark you’d left on his perfect skin.

You smother your smirk against his neck, grinding down on him once again. “Yes what?” You tease, and let his strong hands roll you against him afterwards.

“Yes, I-I’ll…” he stumbles, eyes dazed as he watches you through hooded lids. You raise a brow at him, shifting in his lap. It’s enough to kickstart him back up, and he’s biting down on his lip hard enough to draw blood. “I’ll fuck you, I’ll fuck you just like you want,” he rambles. He surprises you when he begins rutting up against you, so animalistic and uncontrolled, nothing like the sweet Jungkook that had indulged you over dinner. “I’ll make you come, p-promise,” he rasps.

You smirk down at him, hoping he doesn’t see the metaphorical horns sticking out of your head the further he falls into your trap. Before he can say anything else, you surge forward, slotting your mouths together for the first time that night.

It’s no surprise that Jungkook kisses just like he speaks, carefully like he’s afraid one hard press of his lips will ward you off. His lips are smooth, a fact you’d hyper-fixated on all night as he spoke, but before you can ponder on that any further, something hot and wet is prodding at your lower lip.

The gasp you barely manage to contain ends up escaping anyway when Jungkook’s hand comes up to cup the side of your face, tilting your head to the side as his tongue slithers into your mouth. You become obsessed with the way he touches you, every bit the gentlemen he’d been all night, fingers just barely pressing into your cheek like he doesn’t want to mess up your makeup. His other hand, snuggly wrapped around your waist, pulls you tighter against him until your chests are pressed together.

And that tongue. That tongue of his that leaves no room for argument, quickly shutting down any attempts of yours to overtake him. He’s graceful about it too, one nudge enough to convince you he’s got this, he’ll take care of you. You whimper, a sound Jungkook swallows before he’s biting down on your lower lip.

When he pulls away, his lips are red and glossy, and you wonder if yours are too. “Fuck, you’re so pretty,” he sighs, gazing at you like he can’t believe you’re there in front of him.

Before you can say anything else, he’s burying his face in the crook of your neck to brush kisses over your skin. “Let me eat you out,” he begs, but his voice is so silky and smooth that it doesn’t sound so much as a plea as much as it does a suggestion. He licks a stripe up your neck, and you jump in his hold.

It’s at this moment where the sudden realization hits you, the feeling of having the reins yanked out of your hands. You so vividly controlled every aspect of Jungkook just a few moments ago, when you’d had your own mouth on his neck, and carefully coaxed him into some sex.

But it seems Jeon Jungkook isn’t as soft or as pliable as you had dubbed him to be, and if the way he’s begun subtly rolling your hips into his crotch is any sign, he certainly wasn’t the submissive type either. Which leaves you wondering, exactly what type of person was Jungkook in bed?

Well, you had all night to figure that out.

“Hey,” he whines suddenly, ripping you out of your thoughts. You glance down at him, registering the bored set of his eyes and the unimpressed quirk of his lips. “Pay attention to me.”

You blink, lips twitching. You can barely muffle the giggle that tears itself from your throat, leaning your forehead on his shoulder as your body shakes at his suddenly childish words. Jungkook chuckles too, as if suddenly realizing how out of place his own statement was. “Sorry,” he smiles, cheeks pleasantly rosy and you can’t even stop yourself from kissing him silly.

Jungkook, bless his heart, let’s you rain down a good three kisses on him before he’s pushing you down on the couch beside him. There’s still a slight gleam in his eyes, but the rest of his face schools itself into a hungry expression as he drinks in your body laid out before him. “Let me eat you out?” He asks again, voice but a soft whisper.

You nod, heart beating loudly in your chest as he shuffles down until he can press a kiss to the tops of your thighs. He hasn’t even done anything that intense yet, but you already feel the muscles in your leg ready to spasm just from his proximity.

He’s mouthing at your skin, nudging your legs apart, and you, usually so confident in your sexuality, can’t find the courage to look at him as he so lovingly carries out his ministrations.

As if sensing your sudden bout of shyness (you! shy! Doyeon was gonna tease you about this for the rest of your life once you recapped this for her), he places a soft kiss just below where the hem of your dress begins, before pulling back and uttering, “this okay?”

You hum in response, face warm from just imagining how good he must look down there, peppering your skin with kisses. Your heart nearly rips itself out of your chest when a strong set of fingers wraps around your wrist suddenly, sliding over and around your hand until he’s tangled them with yours.

At this, you nearly break your neck trying to look at him, only to be met with an amused smile. Jungkook gives your hand a squeeze, and you barely get to appreciate the schoolgirl flood of emotions in your chest, when suddenly his free hand comes out of left field, cupping the back of your knee to push your legs further apart, before gliding across the expanse of your thigh to push your dress up.

If Jungkook holding your hand was enough to make your heart skip a beat, Jungkook pressing a chaste kiss to your panty-clad mound was enough to send you into cardiac arrest. Your leg twitches at the sudden touch, a gasp catching in your throat at the delicate path he kisses over your panties, until he’s flicking his tongue over your clit. “Oh,” you moan, and against your better judgment, your free hand is tangling itself in his silky strands.

Jungkook smirks, what sounds like a tiny chuckle muffled as he continues mouthing along your sex, until your panties are soaked both from your arousal and his saliva. Your little thong stares him in the face, and he groans at the sight, glancing up at you with those wide eyes of his like you’re his entire world. “Can I?”

Jungkook gives your clit one final kiss, before he lets go of your hand, and you can’t help the whine that leaves you upon the lost contact. Jungkook eats it up, pressing a kiss turned smile against your knee as he tugs your underwear down. It coils up as it goes, until he’s pulling a tightly twisted maroon thong off your ankles, and tossing it off somewhere behind him.

If his mouth felt good through your panties, it feels even better without. You mewl when he brushes his lips over your clit, plush lips working your sensitive bundle of nerves, sly tongue occasionally creeping out to toy with you further. “Jungkook,” you cry out, back arching. He licks and slurps likes he’s a starved man, and you're the first meal he’s ever had. You want to sob from how good it feels, his tongue flicking over your bud like he just can’t get enough.

He pulls away to catch your gaze, doesn’t let it go as he runs a lone finger over your slit, coating the digit in your own arousal, before carefully plunging it into your warm, wet heat. “Is this good?” He rasps out, watching your facial expressions carefully as he wiggles his finger deeper into your core, his other hand wrapped around your thigh to keep you still. You moan, feeling like a boneless heap of organs beneath this insanely handsome man who can’t keep his hands off your quivering pussy.

His fingers don’t let up, slowly pulling out before plunging back in. The room fills with disgustingly wet sounds, but that fact drifts to the back of your head the faster his fingers go. Your eyes roll into your head, your body twitching with each press of his fingers.

“Is it good, pretty?” He repeats, and since you’re not looking at him anymore, the sudden lick against your clit has your back arching and your thighs quivering with surprise. “Tell me it’s good, ___,” Jungkook croons, and you nod in a hurry.

“It’s good!” You cry, moaning loudly when he slips another finger into you, scissoring the two inside of you. “It’s so good, Jungkook—y-you’re so good,” you moan, and nearly cry actual tears when he curls his fingers inside of you, pressing down against the most sensitive spot within you.

Jungkook doesn’t let up, continues licking and slurping against your sensitive bud, even when your orgasm hits and you’re begging him to stop. He doesn’t let you go until he feels the warmth coat his fingers, feels the wetness begging to seep out of your plugged pussy. He lets you go then, only to move closer to your hole and replace his fingers with his mouth. There, he carefully catches and collects the cum that trickles out, mouth warm against your trembling body.

Your body quivers with each long drag of his tongue over your sensitive cunt, and you’re about to ask him to stop, when he finally pulls away and pushes himself over you, arms caging you in as he stares down at your withered form. “Kiss,” you manage to gasp out, and Jungkook raises an eyebrow in question. “Kiss me,” you repeat, and then, thoughtfully, “please.”

Jungkook complies, leans down to connect your mouths in a sweet kiss. You’re blinded by the delicacy of it all, that you in no way see coming the sudden substance that slides down your throat from his own. You choke at the sudden intrusion, belatedly realizing it’s your cum he’s pushing down your throat, the cum he didn’t swallow.

“That’s it, pretty,” Jungkook croons, licking up the residual come that hadn’t made it into your mouth. “See how you taste for me. Isn’t it sweet?” He murmurs, pushing his tongue into your mouth as if he regretted not saving any for himself. It’s the first time you’ve had your own pleasure in your mouth, so you’re not exactly sure how to feel. What you do feel is the overwhelming surge of arousal at seeing Jungkook rave about it and lap it up inside your own mouth.

He kisses you for a few moments, mouth moving languidly along yours. One hand reaches down to rub soothingly at your inner thigh, like he’s coaxing the feeling back into your body after lulling you into one of the most heavenly orgasms of your entire life. You whimper when he bites down on your lower lip, like you’re still too sensitive to reciprocate, but Jungkook doesn’t mind. He lets you go, licks over where he’d bitten like an apology.

After a few minutes of just this, of feeling like the most cherished girl in the entire world, Jungkook finally pulls away and levels you with a dashing smile. “All good?” He asks, hands still trailing up your waist until they’re framing the swell of your breasts, where he gently circles your nipple.

You nod, dazedly staring up at him and it’s at this exact moment that you realize there’s something stiff poking at your hip. You glance down, and Jungkook glances down with you, until you’re both staring at the hard on he’s hiding beneath his jeans. Jungkook chuckles, low and dark by your ear as he experimentally presses it against you.

Before you can stop yourself, your hand is untangling itself from around his shoulders and slithering down his front. You cup his erection, his shaky exhale giving you the courage to toy with his belt buckle until it’s undone and you're battling with the button on his jeans instead. You put up a good fight, but in the end the angle is too tight for you to properly undo it, and Jungkook brushes your hands away with a soft kiss to your lips.

He pushes himself off you, and you’re immediately craving the warm press of his body against yours the second he’s gone. “Get that dress off for me, pretty girl,” he says, pulling his shirt over his head, rendering you completely speechless as you gawk at his body. Jungkook glances down at you as he goes to undo his pants, a shapely brow raising in your direction and a soft quirk of his lips gesturing for you to do as you’re told.

You spur into action, wiggling the dress up and over your breasts until you’re pulling it over your head and letting it drop beside you on the floor. You’re just in time to see Jungkook push his jeans down his hips, a classic black Calvin Klein underwear band glaring back at you.

The chance to marvel at Jungkook’s thin waist framed by that tight underwear is gone as quickly as it came, and you’re greeted with an even more mouthwatering sight when he pushes the elastic band down, and that big cock you had alluded to springs out of its confines. You groan, subconsciously rolling your hips into the air as you take in the sight of his cock, mushroom tip swollen and flushed. There’s a thick vein that runs along the underside of it, one you only see when Jungkook grasps his dick in his hand and tugs upward like this isn’t his true form, and he can get bigger.

“Ready?” He asks, biting down on his lip as he continues to stroke himself. You nod, wiggling closer to him until the backs of your thighs rest on top of his, knees knocking against his waist. He grants you one more of those kind smiles, before he’s leaning down to press a hand beside your head, the other lining himself up with your soaked entrance.

Running his cock over your folds one last time, collecting as much of your cum as he can, he brushes a kiss against your cheekbone before he’s pushing in. You moan, throwing your hands around his neck as he pierces through the initial ring of muscle surrounding your warm heat. “Holy shit,” you choke, mouth dropped open as you pant like a dog against his shoulder. “J-Jungkook,” you cry, legs tightening around his waist the closer his body presses against yours.

Once he’s at the hilt, pelvis flush against you, you can’t help the series of whines and mewls that escape your lips from being so comfortably filled to the brim.

To your surprise, Jungkook is the first to speak. “Fuck,” he groans, breath hot against your ear. He sounds fucked out, once silky voice raspy with need as he grinds his hips against you tentatively. “This is what you wanted, isn't it?” He huffs, both hands coming down to wrap around your waist, your back arching under the wonderful hands that find themselves squeezing every inch of your back in an effort to pull you closer.

His mouth brushes against yours from this new position, and Jungkook puckers his lips, tongue coming out to lick at your bottom lip. You nearly cry when he finally pulls his hips away, relieves his cock from your tight heat before surging back in. “Wanted this from the moment you walked in, didn’t you, sweetheart?” Jungkook grunts, repeats the same motion until he’s picked up a steady pace of pushing and pulling, each roll of his hips sending a shock of ecstasy crawling up your spine.

You nod, eyes screwed shut as pleasure warms every inch of your body. It’s even worse to not see, because every sound and every touch is magnified tenfold, until you’re drowning in sensations. Jungkook’s choked groans, the slide of his hips, they all become too much too quickly and you’re choking back a sob.

“Fuck,” he groans, glancing down at your withered form like an animal as he picks up his pace. His hold on you tightens, never letting your body move away from him and he begins jack hammering in his thrusts, swallowing your cries with his lips. “Had me thinking you were a nice girl,” he huffs, and you wonder if he knows how tightly he’s holding you, how this grip will most likely leave you with fingerprint bruises tomorrow morning. But then again, you don’t care. All you care about is Jungkook’s voice and his body, guiding you toward completion. “But all you wanted was a quick fuck.”

You steel yourself to look at him again, and when your eyes finally open and focus, you’re wishing you hadn’t because Jungkook looks so hot over you. His pretty eyes, the ones that had led you into a false sense of comfort throughout the night and tricked you into believing he would be easy to bend to your every whim, are hard now. “Isn’t that right, doll?” He spits, and you whine when he punctuates this question with a particularly brutal thrust of his hips. His balls slap against your ass, and you squirm beneath him as you begin to feel the beginnings of an orgasm build in your core.

“I-I thought—“ you stammer, tone pitched from the way he jostles you with every thrust he gives. “Y-You wanted that,” you weekly defend, canting your hips down in a feeble attempt to progress this along.

He snorts, captures your lips in a rushed kiss where he wastes no time snaking his tongue inside your mouth. His saliva trickles into your mouth, and you whine as he purposefully lets it happen, pulls away just the slightest to pucker his lips and let a thick trail of spit fall straight into your open mouth. Satisfied with his little stunt, he rams his cock against you once more.

“If you wanted a quick fuck,” he says, nearly loses himself in your pussy, “you came to the wrong guy, sweetheart.”

You’re too caught up in the nice drag of his cock against your pussy, the tip of his cock stopping him from ever pulling out completely, that it takes you a second to process his words. “H-Huh?” You choke, teary eyes flickering across his face wildly as if the answer will be right in plain sight.

But all you’re met with is the soft pull of his lips as he flashes you a smirk, pearly white teeth tugging at the pink flesh, as he levels you with a glare of his own. Before you can question him further, he’s letting go of your waist to hike your knees into the crook of his elbows, his pouty lips growing further away as he leans back.

This shift has his cock nudging up, rubbing against the hood of your clit where a bundle of nerves he’d only briefly brushed before sits. You shriek in pleasure, writhing beneath him as the sudden sensation hits you full force. “Jungkook!” You sob, his hips slowing to a grind as he watches your face crumble beneath him.

“You like that?” He murmurs, rutting his hips against you shallowly. The change of pace, the rabid piston of his hips slowing to this, has your body melting into his touch. You barely manage a nod, eyes fluttering open and shut as his hips move sensually against you.

His cock brushes against that sensitive spot with each roll of his hips, and you’re a mewling, puddle of emotion by the third thrust. “Pretty girl,” he hums, letting go of one leg to place a hand above your mound, thumb circling your clit until you’re trembling beneath him. “Did you think I would fuck you and kick you out?” He husks, watching your body like he’s a lion and you’re his prey.

Your brain is far from comprehending anything at this point, reduced to a mere mass of nothingness as he continues moving against you, fingers rubbing your clit in all the right ways.

“Well, you were wrong about that, doll,” he huffs, and you’re blessed with the sight of his head lolling back as he loses himself in the tight grip of your pussy, skin glistening with sweat, trailing from behind his ear and over his neck, until you’re watching a pearl roll over his collarbones. “I don’t do that,” he informs you, and he pinches your clit between two fingers, hard enough that you almost miss his next words as you moan. “No, baby, I’ll fuck you and keep you forever,” he spits, and you whimper at his words. Finally, he lets go of your knees, right as you’re teetering on the edge of an orgasm and you moan out in protest as he ducks down to cage you between his arms again.

“Please,” you beg, voice hoarse as his hips slowly return to their pace from before. He’s still not pulling out as much, keeping his thrusts shallow as he kisses a trail up your neck and over your jaw.

“Gonna fuck you so good, you don’t ever want to leave, pretty,” he says, kisses the corner of your mouth as his hips pick up pace. You wanna cry, feeling so warm and cherished in his arms, his voice telling you how good you’re doing as the coil in your stomach tightens and tightens until you’re begging him for more. “Do you want that?”

“Yes! Yes!” You sob, rolling your hips against his like a madman as you chase your high.

Jungkook hums, smile smushed against your lips as he watches you desperately writhing beneath him. “Yeah? You want that?” You nod, mewls swallowed by his kisses. “Then cum for me, pretty girl.”

You whimper, just as he bucks into you once more, and suddenly you’re falling apart. It starts in your lower back, the ecstasy climbing it’s way through your body until you’re quivering and sobbing in his embrace, muffling your sounds against his shoulder. The muscles in your entire body tighten painfully, until suddenly a wave of contentment washes over you, and you’re too weak to even hold onto him anymore, arms flopping back onto the couch cushions beneath you.

The whole time, Jungkook mutters encouragement against your jaw, keeps his thrusts short but quick, guiding you through your orgasm. When you’re done, he presses an open mouthed kiss beneath your ear, pulling away to look at your boneless frame beneath him.

A few pistons of his hips later, and Jungkook is coming inside of you, cum coating your walls as he hammers his way through his orgasm. He pulls out when he’s done, and you instantly feel your mixed arousal drip out between your thighs.

Woozy from the wine and the two orgasms, you fall asleep soon after.

——

“Good morning,” you murmur, standing at the doorway leading into the kitchen, an area you’d only been able to find after stumbling around the upstairs of the house in confusion.

Jungkook whirls around, wide eyes taking in your appearance. You clutch at the hem of the big t-shirt you’d pulled on, the only article of clothing you saw that was thrown over a chair in a bedroom you didn’t dare snoop around. “Morning,” he exhales, calculating gaze never leaving you as you tiptoe over to him by the counter.

He doesn’t say more, spluttering into action when you peek over his shoulder to see what he’s up to. “What’re you making?” You inquire, and his hands begin fidgeting with the knife.

“Oh, um,” he stutters, and perhaps he’s overly aware of your presence so close beside him, because he suddenly doesn’t remember how he’s supposed to cut an avocado. Cute, you think. “Just, um, toast with avocado spread…”

You hum. After a moment, it seems Jungkook is able to quell his nerves, and he carefully slices the avocado open, spreading its innards across the toast. He hands you the first piece, which you take after masking your own surprise, and soon after he’s turning away from the counter as the two of you eat in silence.

After a few thoughtful munches of bread, you speak. “Thanks for carrying me to bed,” you say, refusing to look at him.

“You’re welcome,” he replies, almost a little too fast and you barely bite down a grin as he rambles on. “Wasn’t gonna leave you on the couch, especially not when you were so tired after… ah, yeah.”

It’s the reserved way he carries himself that gives you the balls to look at him. His ears are flushed adorably red, like when you were at dinner last night talking about his job, and all you wanna do is pinch his cheeks. “Yeah,” you agree, and then add with an air of faux shyness, “you were really cool last night.”

It’s the little devil in you begging to jump out, curious to see how far you can push Jungkook before he shifts into that suave version of himself from last night, and you would feel bad had the corner of his lips not tilted up in amusement.

He chokes out a laugh, mutters a “yeah?” and you don’t stop yourself when you jump into his arms and kiss that avocado spread right off his lips.

——

On Tuesday afternoon, Kim Namjoon is in the midst of delivering another sermon-like speech on the importance of utilizing your student ID when visiting any of the Starbucks within a two mile radius of your school, when you spot a chestnut head of hair from the corner of your eye.

“Sorry, Joon! My ride's here!” You yelp, shoving your notebook into your bag as you stumble over yourself in your haste to leave.

Namjoon blinks. “Huh? I thought you lived on campus?”

You nod, that giddy feeling starting up in your chest as he comes closer to where you and Namjoon have taken up residence on a table in the commons for your weekly meeting, and by the time he reaches the table Namjoon is still in the midst of questioning you.

“Jungkook,” You say, all dreamily and dazed, and you know this because Doyeon caught you with this same exact look on your face after he dropped you off at the dorms Sunday afternoon.

Namjoon startles. “What the f—“

“Hi,” Jungkook beams, leans down to brush a kiss against your cheek, which only serves to make you even more ditzy and dumb in the face of this handsome man. “Oh, hey, hyung.”

“What’re you doi—“

“All set?” Jungkook asks you, completely ignoring whatever his beloved senior was saying in favor of taking your bag off your shoulders. You nod, have to swallow a giggle down when he takes your hand in his. “Bye, hyung.”

“Bye, Joon!” You barely remember to throw over your shoulder, too busy wrapping yourself around Jungkook’s arm to hear Namjoon blabber in shock. 

“Kids these days,” he huffs.

[ part 2 ; hulu & woohoo ]

[triplexdoublex]

Sex Drive part 2

Pairings: Colson x Reader, Colson x Reader x Rook Reader x Rook

Warnings/tags: smut, unexpected exhibitionism, threesome, double penetration, anal, choking, hair pulling, mild spitting, humiliation, jealousy, being walked in on

Authors note: Being wet DOES NOT = consent irl, just had to put that out there as it may seen I’m suggesting that in a certain scene, Kells is just saying sexy shit and reader is 100% consenting.

Part 1 here

*************

“I knew you wouldn’t be able to go without sex the whole month,” you tease with a giggle as Colson secures his black flag bandana around your eyes from behind you. “Can’t even make it two more weeks, huh?” You tease.

He roughly grips your jaw, turning your head to speak into your ear. “Funny, I don’t remember giving you permission to talk,” he grits through his teeth as he strips your body bare. “Now, walk!” he commands, pushing you forward.

“Oooh where are we going?” You question playfully.

“Don’t worry about it,” he quips, shoving you through the doorway of the adjoining hotel room, unbeknownst to you.

Once inside the room he quickly removes the bandana from your eyes and tosses you down on the bed before you have a chance to view your surroundings.

“Colson?” you push yourself up on your hands confused. “This isn’t our ro — Jesus Christ!” You shriek when you take notice of Rook sitting in an oversized chair in the corner of the room, his elbows resting on his knees with both hands wrapped around the neck of a beer bottle between his legs, his eyes scoping out your naked frame. “What the hell is going on?” You look quizzically between Colson and Rook while clutching a pillow over your exposed body.

Colson looks proud of himself, smirking as he watches your face morph through a series of reds, settling on the brightest. If there was one thing stronger than Colson’s jealousy it was his humiliation kink. He loved the way you blushed and got all shy and flustered whenever you got embarrassed, and he couldn’t think of anything more embarrassing for you than one of his best friends seeing your most intimate areas… and perhaps even touching them — with your permission of course.

“Is someone gonna answer me, what’s going on?” You repeat.

“Well I figured with all the times I’ve caught you checking out Rook I’d give you the opportunity to fuck him.” Colson answers nonchalantly.

“Colson I thought we established I was only checking him out to make you jealous so you’d be more rough with me,” you remind him. ‘Ok maybe the use of the word ‘only’ was stretching the truth a bit,’ you think to yourself. You know damn well that wasn’t the only reason. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t find Rook attractive. “That’s why I’m punished, ‘no dick for a month’ remember?”

“That’s not what I said — I said you’re not getting MY dick for a month. You’re welcome to have Rooks….while I watch of course,” he smirks.

As if that was his cue, Rook stands and walks over towards you. He places his half drunken beer on the nightstand and takes a seat at the foot of the bed.

You swear your heart stops beating for a full ten seconds before you can form words. “Have you gone insane!? You want me to fuck Rook...while you watch?” You question in shock, certain he has lost his damn mind.

“Well, I mean, you’re free to say no… but let’s be honest, we both know that you won’t,” Colson sits on the bed next to you and snatches the pillow covering you from your grasp. “Just look at that pussy, glistening!” He prys your legs open to show Rook just how much the whole idea already has you absolutely dripping. “Now does this look like the pussy of a girl who’s about to say no?” he runs a finger through your slick folds gathering your arosal and turns to Rook who just bites his lip and shakes his head.

There’s no hiding the fact that you want this, you’re more shocked at how into it Colson seems, but he’s right, you certainly weren’t gonna say no.

“Don’t be shy, come have a taste Rookie,” Colson taunts holding out his glossed finger. Rook moves further up the bed, opposite colson, one boy now on each side of you. He leans in and extends his tongue curling it around the silken thread of your excitement stringing from Colson’s finger, and pulls it into his mouth.

“Whatcha think bro, how she taste?”

“Mmmm, fuck! Amazing actually!” Rook exclaims, smacking his tongue against his lips, savoring your essence. “No word of a lie bro, some of the best pussy I’ve ever tasted, ya lucky bastard.”

“Yeah?” Colson’s chuckles at his enthusiasm. “Well help me get her warmed up a little, then she’s all yours,” he says gently stroking your clit. “Although she clearly doesn’t need it,” he jokes, amused by how wet you are. “But something tells me she’ll enjoy both of us playing with her for a bit. Ain’t that right baby?” He smirks, looking at you.

“Please,” you squirm under Colson’s touch and the anticipation of Rooks.

Slowly Rook begins trailing the tips of his fingers up your inner thigh, inching closer to where to want it most before finally joining Colson’s. They join forces , sandwiching your clit between both of their fingertips as they work you methodically.

“Oh, fuck,” your voice shakes, a cocktail of nerves and pleasure coursing through you. As good as it feels and as much as you want it , you can’t help but be a little anxious, it’s been a long time since anyone but Colson has seen you naked never mind touching you like this. “You two are gonna be the death of me,” you moan breathily arching your back up off the bed.

“Relax slut, this just the beginning” Colson leans in, his warm breath ghosting over your nipples as he glides his fingers down to your entrance. He easily slips in two of them, the cool metal of his rings bumping against your warm heat with every curl of his fingers; Rook now having solo reign over your clit. Colson’s free hand grips your breast, his thumb and forefinger tugging at your nipple, before taking it into his mouth. Rook follows suit attaching his mouth to your opposite breast, making sure to leave soft violet markings in his wake, claiming you, if only for the night.

“Alright, I’ll let you take over from here,” Colson says to Rook, slipping his fingers out of you. “Be a good girl for Rook,” he grips your chin smearing your juices along your jawline before retreating to the oversized chair in the corner, where he begins palming himself through his jeans. And like a shark to blood, Rook is drawn to your scent, his mouth moving up your chest, and neck, devouring your slick remnants with open mouthed kisses, while he continues to massage the sweet spot between your thighs.

“You taste so good,” he smiles against your mouth before kissing you. His tongue prods at your lips , begging for entrance. You part your pout welcoming him inside; your tongues beginning a do-si-do. He feels so foreign in your mouth; taboo in the best way.

“Yeah?” You break the kiss. “Why don’t you taste it straight from the source,” you say seductively.

“Yes ma’am. Don’t gotta tell me twice,” Rook smirks before disappearing between your thighs.

“Now we’re getting somewhere!” Colson chides from the corner of the room, freeing himself from the confines of his bulging jeans. Slowly, he strokes himself in rhythm with Rooks tongue fucking in and out of you, watching as he gathers your sweetness on his tastebuds.

“Mmmmm, God—“ Rook huffs in unbelievable enjoyment against your core, before attaching his lips snugly around your clit, providing it with gentle pulsating suction. It’s different than you’re used to — Kells being more of the rapid tongue flicking type— but damn, if it doesn’t feel equally as good.

“Uhh, yes! Just like that, Rook. Don’t stop!” You exclaim in pleasure; one hand gripping the sheets, the other the back of Rooks neck.

Hearing you say Rook’s name like that has Colson squeezing his cock harder and faster, his jealousy unintentionally tightening his grip. He’s enjoying watching you be pleasured but can’t curb feeling possessive, in fear that perhaps you’re enjoying this a little TOO much.

“I still... Mmm...can’t… get over… how good you taste,” Rook speaks between open-mouth kisses to your tenderness. “I swear I could eat you as my last meal,”

“Dawg, keep talking to my fucking girl like that and it WILL be your last meal,” Colson half jokes, his jealousy peaking for sure — now beating his dick as if it were Rook. “How ‘bout you just shut up and fuck her now, before I change my mind.”

“Ready?” Rook questions with a smirk ,from between your thighs.

“Ready!” You squirm impatiently, already missing the contact of his tongue .

Quickly, Rook strips off his leather vest and other clothing until he’s completely naked. Just as he’s about to get settled between your legs Colson pipes up again from the corner.

“Baby I want you to ride him, lemme see those titties and ass bounce for me while you fuck yourself on his dick.”

“Mmmm hell yeah! I wanna see too,” Rook says excitedly, moving to lay on his back; arms behind his head.

“You’re pushing it Rook!” Colson warns.

“Baby, chill,” you giggle at how flustered Colson’s getting. “I know this pussy only belongs to you,” you turn facing him, spreading yourself open. Colson groans at the sight, his eyes momentarily slipping shut as he tries not to bust right there. “Besides—,” you smirk. “This was your idea.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah C’mon… less talking, more fucking,” Colson orders.

You climb over Rook who’s waiting with cock in hand pointed towards the heavens and squat over him, hovering just above the tip before sinking down to the hilt with a moan. You push back up, and come down fast, your skin echoing off Rooks with a slap.

“Ugh fuck!,” Rook sits halfway up to mouth at your breasts and neck as you continue to bounce in his lap.

You turn your head back slightly to watch Colson, his teeth sunken deep into his bottom lip, eyes so intensely glued to every roll of your hips, and his hips thrusting up to fuck into his own palm. You turn back to Rook and pick up the pace riding him harder and faster knowing Colson’s close to finishing. You don’t know what burns more the desire inside of you or your thighs, but you don’t stop, determined to make both men and yourself cum at any moment now.

“Oh, Rook!” You cry out with your head thrown back and hands planted firmly on his tattooed chest. You’re so so close.

“Ahww, shit, you gonna cum?” Rook questions out of breath. “Me too.”

Just then the hotel door clicks open “Hey, Rook have you seen Kel— WHAT THE FUCK!!” Exclaims Slim completely caught off guard by what he’s seeing, bringing you and Rook to a halt. “Girl, I know you think it’s cute to make Kells jealous and shit so he’ll choke or whatever crazy shit you’re into but you took it took it too far this time, cuz Kells about to choke both you to DEATH when he finds out.”

“Yo! Why the fuck does everyone keep talking when I’m tryna cum?” Colson yells annoyed and on the edge from the corner of the room.

“Kells???” Slim questions peering around the door. “Da fuck is going on in here? Ya know what, second thought, I don’t wanna know. I— I’m just… I’m just gonna go,” Slim states in utter shock and confusion as he backs out the door.

“Good idea, try fucking knocking next time maybe? Rook shouts after him.

“Fuck, my legs are killing me!” You huff as soon as you hear the door click shut, shifting your weight onto your knees. Immediately, Rook takes over, snapping his hips up and into you from below.

“Aye, I can’t take this shit no more my hands about to fucking fall off, lemme get in there,” Colson says getting up from the chair and kicking off his jeans and boxers. He tugs his shirt over his head and climbs behind you on the bed. He spits in his hand ,coating his cock with his saliva, then brings the tip to the only hole not currently occupied: your ass. You’re no stranger to anal; it is Colson’s favorite afterall. You welcome the penetrating stretch as he pushes in. It’s slightly awkward at first as the boys figure out and establish a rhythm that works for all three of you. Their cocks pound in and out of you in unison; one in each hole, providing you with the most pleasurable, satisfying fullness. “Unh, baby so fucking good for us. Taking it so well,” Colson praises you through gritted teeth . “You like being a little whore for us like this, huh? Rook fucking your pussy while I fuck this ass?” He asks crudely with a hardy slap to your backside.

“I fucking love it — YES! Treat me like a fucking whore!” You exclaim in wild passion, as you teeter on the edge of orgasm.

“Oh we’ll treat you like a whore alright!” Colson speaks through his groans, grabbing a fistful of your hair using it as leverage to pound into you harder.

With your head yanked back in Colson’s grasp, Rook takes advantage of the unoccupied column of flesh above him, wrapping his hand tightly around your throat. The way both boys have you feeling like a used plaything has you cumming in seconds, riding out wave after wave. The noise they make as you clench around them both is like heaven; Rook’s slightly louder and high pitched than Colson’s deep throaty rumble. They cum almost in perfect time with eachother; with Colson just a few seconds sooner, filling your ass with his warmth, as Rook pulls out, busting his load up onto your stomach. The three of you collapse into a sticky sweaty mess, both boys rolling to your sides; the air thick with heavy breathing and the smell of sex.

The way Rook looks completely spent and fucked out of his mind is hilariously adorable; still trying desperately to catch his breath, his leg visibly twitching and shaking and his hand running through his sweaty hair with a ‘did that really just happen?’ expression on his face .

“You ok there buddy?” Colson’s laughs, reaching over you to give Rook’s arm a tap with the back of his hand. Colson’s used to having crazy sex with you by now.

“Umm ...I think so.” He releases a long winded breath followed by a brief chuckle.

“You know what my favorite part about this was?” You turn to Colson. “I broke you!!” You tease.”Not only did I get Rook’s dick but I got yours too! Slim was right when he said you wouldn’t last through my punishment with your sex drive!”

“For the record, I said you weren’t gonna get my dick in your PUSSY, for a month. Now correct me if I’m wrong but wasn’t that your ass I just fucked? Nice try, you’re still punished.”

*******

Tag list: @dannyboy-trash (won’t let me tag you) , @famousobservationfan @blxxdyvalentine19xx

[mermaidxatxheart]

Better Together Chapter 2

Pairing: Poe x Reader

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: Fluff, mentions of lackluster sex, paranoia, Poe being adorable. Probably swearing.

A/N: my works are not to be reposted on this site or any other site without my knowledge and permission. Reblogs are, of course, welcome. If you'd like to be added to my tag lists, please send me an ask and let me know which tag list you'd like to be added to.

Series Master List

Chapter One

Chapter Two

You slowly blink your eyes open in the darkness of the room. Bryce’s big arm is snaked tightly around you, self satisfied snores reverberate softly in your ear. Your entire lower half aches as you stretch and try to sit up. Bryce holds you tighter, pressing his chest into your bare back. His hand snakes up between your breasts as he clings to you.

Carefully, slowly, you roll him over, easing his hand off your skin. You place it back on his chest and slide off the bed, gathering up your clothes. You quickly get dressed and head for the hangar to meet Poe.

You’re feeling off this morning. You wish the commissary is open for some caf, you wish you had been able to sleep in; you wish Bryce had… well. Nothing you can do about that now.

Your go-bag previously stored in the ship, you head there now, trying not to wince with every step.

“Hey, partner.” Poe greets, smiling wide. His smile falters when he sees your empty hands. “You didn’t bring me a caf?”

You groan, walking towards the on-ramp. “I didn’t even bring me a caf. Don’t start.” You mutter.

“Well, lucky for you, I have a friend in the commissary staff.” He says, grabbing you by the back of your shirt and stopping you in the entryway.

“If you have something to say, just say it.” You complain, closing your eyes. He’s way too happy this morning, being awake before the birds are.

“Boy, you’re a grump this morning.” He teases, covering your eyes with one of his big warm soft hands.

“Poe.” You whine.

“Hold out your hand, gorgeous.” He says ever so softly in your ear, his breath on the outer shell making you shiver, making you wish last night had been more satisfying.

Shakily, you hold out your hand, palm up. He leans in close around you, broad chest pressing into your arm and, Maker, he’s so warm. He sets something circular and heavy in your palm and waits.

“Open those pretty eyes.” He prompts. You do and there’s a big cup of coffee balancing perfectly in your hand.

You smile slightly to yourself, grateful to your friend, and you try to shake yourself out of this slump. “Thanks, Dameron.” You step further into the ship, changing your grasp on the cup. “How’s your head?” You ask.

“Just fine. I didn’t end up drinking last night.” He studies you as you head for your bunk. “Okay, what’s the matter with you?” He asks, following after you.

“Nothing. Just tired.” You dig your bag out and rifle through for your favorite sweatshirt. Space is cold and you naturally have a lower body temperature.

“Didn’t you see your loverboy last night? Shouldn’t you be in a better mood?” He teases and you feel your shoulders tense against your will.

“I’m fine, Poe.” You toss over your shoulder, pulling the thick fabric on.

“Oh, did Mr. Prick not live up to the hype?” He continues as you head for the cockpit.

You want to tell him to let it go, that it’s none of his business if you didn’t… but there’s no way to say anything without giving everything away.

“That’s exactly it.” He surmises easily and you do your best to hide your quickly flushing face. “Yikes. If only there was someone who warned you that he wouldn’t be worth your time.” Poe ponders and you roll your eyes.

“If you’re done poking fun at my anticlimactic sex life, maybe we could get going? It’s gonna be a long week together.” You prompt, sliding automatically into the co-pilot’s seat and leaving the pilot’s seat open for Poe.

“I have so many questions.” He sighs.

“If you value keeping your tongue in your mouth, you won’t ask them.” You warn and he groans. “We need to do flight checks.” You half rise out of your seat before he catches your arm.

“Nya already did them.” He says and you roll your eyes.

“Right. Like I’m trusting my life to her.” You scoff and head out of the little room to check on everything yourself.

Nya is probably the worst person on this Resistance base. Maybe even in all the galaxies. She’s rude, condescending, petty, moralless, and you have a sneaking suspicion she’s not really here for the cause. She hates you, and you hate her. No way in all seven hells are you trusting your life in her hands.

You shimmy down the engine hatch, checking all the gauges, valves, pumps, and anything else that she might have tampered with. You’re excruciatingly thorough. Just as you’re about to finish, Poe’s exasperated sigh reaches you.

“Done yet?” He calls and you roll your eyes, taking just a little longer to properly annoy him. “Y/N, do you trust me?” He asks and you sigh.

“Probably against my better judgment.” You admit.

“I was with Nya when she did them. My name is on the list.” He says and you head back over to the opening and extend your hand.

“You promise you didn’t let her ample… personality… distract you?” You ask as he easily hauls you back up to him.

“Promise.” He holds out his index finger and you press yours to it.

“Okay. I feel better.” You nod and he chuckles, draping a muscular arm around your shoulders.

“Good, now let’s get going. Oh, and if you need to… take care of business,” he pauses to wiggle his eyebrows at you, “I won’t judge.”

You smack him in the chest, hard. “Fuck off, Dameron.” You slide back into your seat and start the engaging sequences. He laughs quietly, rubbing his chest where you hit him.

***

“Landing gear.” You say you assume pointlessly. Poe Dameron doesn’t need you to remind him to extend the landing gear, and yet here you are.

He doesn’t respond, doesn’t look at you, he hasn’t even blinked for the last five minutes.

“Poe. Landing gear.” You repeat, a little louder. Still nothing. You grumble and start to lift out of your seat to reach across him and flip it. Naturally, that’s when he starts to move.

“I’ve got it.” He huffs, lifting your arm out of his face and toggling the switch.

“Clearly.” You roll your eyes. “Lost you there for a second.” You hint and he glances at you, his skilled hands flying over the console now without thought.

“Sorry. Daydreaming, I guess.” He rolls his head, easing some tension out of his neck.

“About being anywhere else?” You tease.

“Absolutely. I can’t stand being here with you. Don’t know how you stand being around yourself.” He huffs, glancing out the window, trying to ease the ship down without knocking into too many branches.

“Unlike you, Dameron. I don’t have a choice.” You reply.

The unanswered question of his daydream is dropped as he lowers the ramp and stands up. “Come on, partner.” He says, grabbing his bag and draping it across his chest.

You follow, grabbing your holopad, and double-checking for the third time that you have everything you need. Following Poe, you slip easily into work mode. He closes the ramp after you and waits while you pull up your coordinates on the planet.

It’s densely covered in trees as tall as the clouds, so big around the base that fifteen men could stand holding arms outstretched and probably not be all the way around. Thick foliage covers the ground, threatening to trip you even if you’re careful of where you step. Bright flowers are scattered in the green light cast down from above. Massive branches are over your head, big and sturdy enough for both you and Poe to lie down on. Gnarled, twisting roots rise up from the ground, sprawling across the floor. Roots from one tree can end up ten or fifteen feet away, and they seem to follow you, creaking and creeping up behind you.

The air is muggy, damp with condensation from the water being evaporated under the tree canopy. After just a couple minutes, you feel like you’re drinking the air rather than breathing it.

Focusing, you pull up the map construction on your holopad and hold it up, scanning the area surrounding your ship. You glance at Poe, already seeing little droplets of sweat gathering at the edges of his dark curls. He’s looking around, head on a swivel, hands gripping his rifle, as you work.

“Alright. Pick a direction.” You nod, letting him know you’re ready to begin.

“Left.” He says, stepping in front of you to cross your path.

“Hey, I know it doesn’t need saying again, but we know nothing about this place. Try not to touch too much, and for Maker’s sake, don’t lick anything.” You roll your eyes and that charmingly cheeky grin is back.

“I make no promises, gorgeous. You know I love to lick things.” He smirks and you just wanna smack him again. You could have done without the innuendo.

You follow him to the left, which is actually east, scanning and recording. Every so often, you stop to pick a flower for a sample. It goes into a sealable bag to examine back at the base. If you’re going to live here, you need to know as much about the local plant life, what’s poisonous, what’s okay to eat or smell.

You wipe your hand across your forehead, already feeling your shirt sticking uncomfortably to your shoulders. Poe doesn’t complain, so you don’t, either.

A creaking behind you makes you halt and half turn. It’s been about an hour since you left the safety of your ship, and so far, only giant bugs to report.

“What is it?” He asks, turning to look at you.

“I just thought I heard something.” You shake your head, brushing off your own paranoia. “Probably just one of the branches settling.”

“They’re massive, aren’t they?” He peers up at them. “Try not to get crushed by one.” He jokes, but it’s half-hearted. The good mood from takeoff is quickly wearing off.

He turns back around to keep moving forward, but you catch him just in time. “Poe!” You wrap your hand around the front of his shoulder, pulling him back against your chest before he can walk right into a butterfly the size of an eagle.

“Thanks.” He lets out a breath, squeezing your fingers reassuringly.

“Ever hear the story of how Makimbo walked into the flight path of a moth and it got stuck in his ear for three days until the medics could get it out?” You start and Poe stops again, slowly turning to face you, beautiful brown eyes wide in disbelief.

“You’re shitting me.” He says finally and you laugh, feeling better now that you’ve shaken off some of the silence.

“Nope. Walked right out the door from the dorms as a moth was flying to the light and flew right into his ear canal. Swears to this day he can still hear flapping in there.”

“Unbelievable. Only Mak could do something like that.” He shakes his head, turning back around.

“Can we take a break? I think we should have some water.” You say, your legs throbbing. They were already sore from your time with Bryce, but hiking through this impossible forest is killing you.

“Yeah, of course.” He says, coming back up to join you. “Feeling okay?” He asks, watching your eyes as you ease down onto one of those gnarled roots. It’s almost at chair height.

“Yeah. I probably should have just gone out with you to the bar.” You sigh, unscrewing your canteen.

“Probably would have had a better time.” He agrees, and you’re nodding before you can even think to stop yourself.

“At least my legs wouldn’t hurt this much.” You admit and he groans.

“Please tell me he’s not a ‘lay back and let you do all the work’ type.” He rubs his face with a handkerchief.

“There’s nothing wrong with a girl being on top.” You huff.

“No, yeah, of course. One of my favorite positions.” He holds out his hand to stop you. “But not for the whole time. And especially not if she doesn’t finish.” He says vehemently. “Always knew he was a selfish prick.”

The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. Something isn’t right. “Poe?” You start quietly. Your voice is barely above a whisper.

“Sorry, I know you don’t like when I complain about him.” He waves and you’re trying so hard not to panic. You feel eyes on you, dangerous and intentional.

“Poe.” You say with a little more urgency. He finally looks at you, confused. “There’s something behind me. I can feel it.” You say, barely moving your mouth.

His eyes scan diligently over your shoulders. They search every inch of the exposed woods behind you until he shakes his head. “There’s nothing, sweetheart. Just leaves.” He says, sounding very sure. “Come sit by me.” He says, scooting over and patting the spot next to him.

You quickly cross to him and he wraps his arm around you, despite the uncomfortable heat. “I feel stupid, but I swear I felt something watching me.” You sigh, leaning against him.

“Maybe an animal.” He says, not dismissing your feelings at all. You’re grateful that he doesn’t tell you it’s nothing, but offers a possible solution. “If the bugs here are giant, can you imagine the predators?” He shudders, but you tilt your head.

“Actually, if the bugs are so big, there shouldn’t be any predators.” You frown, your anxious stomach settling a little bit. “Because size is equivalent to speed, the bigger they are, the slower they are. So, if the bugs can’t outrun the predator, they die off.” You press your lips together, feeling like you’re rambling.

He turns to look at you, appreciation in his eyes. “You’re pretty smart, you know that?” He says and you grin.

“I do. It’s about time that someone else sees it.” You reply and he laughs.

“Alright, noodle legs. You ready to keep going? We should try to find somewhere to camp soon. The days on this planet aren’t exceptionally long.” He says, and you nod, putting your water away.

“You’re right, let’s get going.” You stand up, picking up your holopad once more. Poe shoulders his rifle, head turning every which way as he leads you through the trees.

“Tell you what.” He starts after an immeasurable amount of silence.

“What’s that?” You croak, your voice sticking in your throat after not being used for a while.

“If we do settle this planet, we’re gonna need some serious air conditioning. My curls are not holding up in this heat.” He says, purposely messing up his dripping locks.

You laugh, flinching away from the flying moisture. “Agreed. But if there are no predators, as we’ve theorized, it could be pretty perfect.”

He turns to glance back at you, his forehead wrinkling in concern. “How are you feeling?” He asks again.

“I’m fine, why?”

He takes you by the arms, his big hands burning into your skin as he guides you to sit down. “You’re really flushed.” He comments, holding his bare wrist to your forehead. “And very warm.”

“It’s a million degrees out here. Of course, I’m warm, Poe.” You look up at him, appreciating his concern.

“Am I flushed?” He frowns.

“Who can tell? You’re perfectly tan all year round. How do you do that, by the way?”

He cups your face gently and tilts it up to him to see better. “I do this thing called going outside.” He says, gently pulling your lower eyelids down.

“See anything?” You ask, only half teasing.

“Nope, no soul in there.” He replies, letting go of you all together and suddenly you miss his hands on your face. They were warm and comforting and you felt safe.

This forest is messing with your head.

Another creak behind you has you up and moving around Poe. He catches your arm, making you slow down.

“Sweetheart, we should eat. It’s been all day. I didn’t realize how much time was passing.” He says.

You shift from foot to foot nervously, looking behind him. Your eyes scan the foliage, looking for any sign of movement. You don’t want to stop, too wound up to eat, but you know he’s right.

“I’ll keep you safe.” He promises. You acquiesce and let him guide you down to the ground and back against the base of a tree.

“I don’t know why I’m being such a weirdo.” You sigh, digging into your pack for your rations.

“Maybe you’re sensing something I’m not.” He shrugs, sitting across from you. From down here the ferns and other ground plants tower over you, creating its own little world. “Maybe it’s the idea of being somewhere new, unfamiliar. Maybe it’s the thought of being the only two people on an entire planet, so certain noises you would hear from other people, you shouldn’t be hearing. There are a million reasons. But don’t brush them off. You have a good gut instinct, Y/N. Use it. It might save us later.” He reaches over and squeezes your knee soothingly.

“Thanks.” You say, feeling a little better. You eat slowly, looking around, but mostly watching Poe. His dark hair is disheveled, curling into his heavy-lidded eyes. You’re grateful to Leia for pairing you with him. She could have picked anyone, and she picked the one person you get along with best. It’s easy to get along with Poe Dameron. Easy as breathing. Even when he’s being difficult, pushing people away after everything he’s seen, he has never once tried to push you away.

“You’re staring at me.” He comments and you drop your gaze instantly.

“Sorry.” You mutter, rubbing your forehead. “Just thinking.”

“About what I look like naked? Don’t feel bad, everyone on base has wondered.” He grins and you laugh.

“Sure. We’ll go with that.” You nod, pushing the rest of your food back into your bag. Your stomach is too tense to really eat anything.

He knocks his knee against yours. “Tell me.” He prompts.

“Just thinking about how we’re friends.” You shrug and he waits patiently for you to continue. “You… you don’t always… make things easy for other people. You argue with Mak, or Hana, or Setti. You sometimes seem to enjoy pushing them away because you do it so often.” You stumble over your words, not wanting to really screw things up. “But you’ve never done that to me.” You avoid his gaze for as long as you can stand it before finally looking up at him.

He’s smiling. “You’re funny.” He says eventually. “I did try doing that to you. At the very beginning. And sometimes it’s easier to have people be mad at me; to take all of it in and feel that instead of… other less pleasant things. And yeah, they get pissed at me, call me a jerk, or whatever name they like. They storm off and hate me for a while. And it feels good.” He nods, clearing his throat and looking around, away from you. “But not you. Never you. I’d pick a fight with you and you would stand your ground, fight me back until I was the one storming off. Then you’d show up at my dorm, or in the woods, or wherever I happened to be hiding, give me a cup of hot chocolate. You absolutely floored me that first time, telling me I could fight you all day long and you’d be there every time, not letting me lose myself.” He inhales sharply, disguising a sniffle. “I think you knew before I did. You just see through me, constantly.”

You're quiet for a long time, thinking over his words. He never says it out loud, never admits that he could use help. Never gives his nightmare a name. But you feel it, weighing on his soul; and yours. “Poe.” You start and he looks up at you expectantly. “I only said those things because you had my favorite book in your bag and I wanted it back.” You say quietly and he laughs loudly, grabbing your arm and pulling you into his lap, hugging you tight.

“Can’t push you away, no matter how hard I tried. You’re too stubborn.” He sighs, rocking you from side to side as you let your forehead rest in the crook of his neck. “Sometimes, I wonder if the bullshit I say will do it. Like the sex talk, or the time I told you I masturbate five times a day just to see what you’d say.” He chuckles, his breath skittering down the back of your neck. “You didn’t miss a beat, just said ‘I believe you. You look like the type’ and moved on.” He grins.

“I just thought you were a really open person.” You admit, pushing back from his chest, seeing his eyes shine with laughter. “We should keep going, you weirdo. There are some cliffs up ahead, I think. We can probably find a cave to sleep in for the night.”

“Agreed.” He pushes you to your feet, and you pull him up right after you. His hand lingers in yours for a long second before he takes it back to adjust his rifle position.

Chapter Three

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[papipopsicle]

SHY AWAY PART FIVE

Pairing: Bucky Banes X Reader

Summary: In which an imitation Captain America leads to Y/N leaving her holiday early and coming back to the field. Stuck between her only two friends, she's forced to reveal a secret she'd kept even from herself.

Song: Rain by Grandson

Warnings: swearing, small amount of John Walker (if he's in here, he's a warning)

Words: 1.4K

A/N- "Doar spune când, James, am sã-l gut ca un porc." Translates to "Just say when, James, I'll gut him like a pig." in Romanian.

MASTERLIST

feedback is always appreciated

"And if he was wrong about you, then he was wrong about me." The words ricocheted through Y/N's mind as Walker tried his hardest to coerce the trio into helping him. The brunette woman didn't care for his manipulative tactics, unable to focus on anything other than Bucky's dejected tone and melancholy visage.

He couldn't be more wrong, and she wished with everything in her conscious being that he could view himself through her eyes even for just a moment. They may be ever so slightly rose tinted, she admitted to herself, knowing she held her friends to a higher standard than most people. But she had good reason to.

"James Buchanan Barnes." Y/N mumbled the name, finding an instant affinity to the way it sounded in her hushed voice. She sat atop Steve's bed, two months had passed since Hydra and Shield both fell, the two free agents for the first time in three years. The file Natasha had given him lay flat across her lap, ogling at second photo attached, "That Sargent uniform... there is nothing I wouldn't let him do to me while wearing that."

Steve leant against his doorframe, entertained by his friend's enthralment, "And in his Winter Solider gear, and when you saw him pulling me out of the Potomac. I'm starting to think it's not just the outfits, honey."

A small part of her brain accepted in the hierarchy of humans in her life, Bucky was at the top. Y/N tried to convince herself he was equal with and just as platonic as Sam. Prior to 'The Blip', she was so head-sure when it came to that - but now her head swam with his voice and drowned a happy death in his scent.

"A word of advice then, stay the hell out of my way." John's strident voice pulled Y/N from her thoughts. Sam's hand lay on the small of her back, guiding her away from the imitation Captain. She felt like slicing open his neck right then and there, he didn't deserve the shield even for a minute. He could keep the stupid outfit, but the shield meant something to her, to most people.

"Doar spune când, James, am sã-l gut ca un porc." Y/N growled, shaking away her anger as the three walked in the opposite direction to John and his companion.

The air was quiet for a few minutes, maybe even ten. Y/N looked for the nearest hotel, finding an appropriate one and guiding the boys down these unfamiliar streets. Only a quiet 'this way' or 'next turn' came from her, seeming so unnaturally ordinary like an exploring tourist. Sam gave Bucky a once over, checking on his friend, finding his gaze firmly attached to the woman two steps ahead of them.

They may not be the closest kind of friends, but Sam could read the super soldier with ease. He smirked, choosing once again not to mention his findings, especially after the fragility of his self worth shone through the therapy session.

"So, what are you thinking?" Sam asked smoothly.

Bucky observed his surroundings before speaking, alert of all the pedestrians around him, "Well, I know what we have to do. When Isaiah said 'my people'..."

"Oh, don't take that to heart." Sam comforts him, his usual calm nature alleviating any awkwardness left from the station, "That's not what he meant."

"No, he meant Hydra. Hydra used to be my people, they were when he and I met." Bucky said lowly.

Sam let out a large sigh after a moment, piquing Y/N's attention, "Not a chance."

"Walker doesn't have any leads..." Bucky trails off, and Y/N covertly slowed her steps to fall back in line with the two men. She wracked her tired brain, piecing together the conversation she hadn't cared for, until a horrible conclusion struck her.

"I swear to all the gods out there," Y/N began in a hushed voice, her tone not playful like usual, "if you want to see Helmut, ask him to cooperate and help us on this, I am absolutely on board."

Both men scrunched their faces at her change of tune, knowing to be even more wary than when her voice sounded serious. She turned to face them, stopping their journey to the hotel to address the two properly.

"He knows all of Hydra's secrets." Bucky aims his words at Sam, "Don't you remember Siberia?"

The question was obviously rhetorical, but Y/N remembered it far too well. The event that fractured her only ever family. Being who she was, the accords were never going to fly, but the aftermath they lead to was catastrophic. She went on the run with Steve and Sam, finding ways every now and again to slip away for weeks at a time to visit Bucky.

"So you're just gonna go sit in a room with this guy?" Sam asks blatantly doubtful.

Bucky eyes both of his friends warily, "Yes."

"I'm sorry, how are you so okay with this?" Sam directs at Y/N, who had already began walking in the direction her map lead to. She assumed the conversation was over, not feeling the need to explain herself.

Y/N doesn't stop her ambling towards the hotel, now only a few minutes away. The boys surely follow after her, "It's pretty simple Sammy, I'd rather have someone I hate twelve percent less help us make things right before John even has a chance."

"Twelve percent?" Bucky queries, both him and Sam quickening their paces to catch up with her.

"Yeah," She threw a grin over her shoulder at them, "obviously an estimate. But, if I actualised my hatred at this current time, Helmut is at steady seventy five percent, while John is presently at eighty seven percent."

The two men nodded at her theory, silence settling over the group as they walked the final few minutes to the hotel. It was a small independent Bed and Breakfast with a black illuminated sign reading 'Sutton's B&B'.

"Three rooms please, whatever you have will do we aren't picky." Sam asked the tired elder lady at the front desk, flashing his pearly whites for extra charisma. Y/N found out a long time ago that her presence often frightened most women, she didn't have much experience when it came to charming them, that was Sam's area of expertise.

Bucky stood beside Y/N as Sam spoke with the front desk lady, his body nearly falling slack as the brunette woman leaned her weight against him. He steadied himself, wrapping his right arm around her figure- he had no reason to, other than he felt like it. They didn't shift away from each other when Sam turned back with a key each for them.

"I've been real nice and given Bucky the double, because I doubt he'd fit in a single bed. Y/N and I are sharing a twin single." Sam quietly said, feeling himself betting closer and closer to asking what was his friends deal.

He wanted a couple more days to clear the air before questioning the two, and maybe by then they'd have a straight answer for him rather than them both denying it.

"Night, James, message me if you need anything." Y/N implored in a hushed tone as the trio reached the super soldier's room for the night. She squeezed his side tightly and a small kiss landed on her forehead as they parted.

Bucky unlocked his door, smiling at his two friends, "Goodnight."

The old door clicked behind him, and Sam tugged along the sleepy ex assassin "Come on, you need to sleep if you want to destroy John Walker."

"Sammy?" Y/N asked with a small yawn, eyes attempting to find their room.

He pointed at a door a few steps away, locating their number, "Yeah?"

"You always know just what to say." She hummed, using her key and immediately flopping down on the small bed with a thud.

part six?

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[nanaminsonyfans]

✨Wing Beifong✨

Masterlist✨ Request Rules

Request; Hii could I anonymously (you dont have to tag me in the post) request a Wing Beifong Fluff? Maybe where the reader and Wing are a fresh couple and are practicing metal/earthbending together? ☺️ and the Korra Team and his family mention how cute they are?

A/N; I had a lot of fun writing this! I hope you enjoy this!

Warnings; fluff and slight cursing?

Being the younger sister of Mako and Bolin was rough as it is. Two overprotective brothers? Check. Being babied for being a girl AND the youngest? Double-check. Anything you can think of, stereotypes and all, that’s them. However, everything changed when you met Korra. Your brother’s never let you join the Fire Ferrets for their pro-bending things, so you were just a groupie. You also had Earthbending so even if they wanted you, you really couldn’t join anyways.

But you met Korra, and you were so happy to see a strong girl, and she’s the Avatar? Hell yes! You were on team Avatar, Mako always argued that you shouldn’t be allowed to go on their dangerous missions, but Bolin and Korra always disagreed, plus you had Asumi on your side now so it wasn’t a problem. Haha, you’re outmatched Mako >:)

Which leads you to where you are now. Zaofu of the Earthkingdom, looking for the new Airbender. Bolin and you were so excited, so many Earthbenders and Metalbenders! You never tried Metalbending, Bolin taught you everything you knew so if he didn’t know it, you didn’t either.

You were enjoying the tour that Suyin Beifong was giving you of her home. “And these are my youngest, Wei and Wing. They’re playing a game they invented, power disc is what they call it.” Suyin explained, causing you to walk over to the railing to water. They were twins but they could be easily told apart by their smiles. ‘Oh god, was I staring too much?’ You were snapped out of your trance when you heard a buzzer go off and the twin you were staring at on the ground.

“Good job Wei!” Suyin praised one of her sons, earning a small cheer from him. “Wing almost had me, but he was making goo-goo eyes at the girl.” Wei laughed as he pointed at you. Your entire face went flush with embarrassment as did Wing’s. “Shut up Wei!” He hissed and punched his brother’s shoulder, Mako was already grabbing your arm and dragging you off. Both of your brothers made threatening glare at Wing, Mako holding a ball of fire in his hands and Bolin just cracked his knuckles.

You huffed and tried to pull away from them as they dragged you away, well mostly Mako. He was the eldest and always tried to protect you both no matter what but, Bolin could take care of himself and why couldn’t you?

“Mako! Let me go!” You huffed and pushed him away with a grunt. Korra stopped and was at your side. “Yeah, Mako. She is allowed to have crushes.” She scolded. “Crush?! I do not!” You argued, turning bright red. At this point everyone had stopped, staring at you and making the embarrassment worse. “Ugh, we are here for the Airbender! Not to talk about my brothers destroying my love life!” You argued and started to storm off. “Y/n!” Bolin called for you but stopped. “Trust me, she just needs space.” Suyin stated in a motherly tone. The boys reluctantly nodded and carried on.

You had bumped back into the twins as you were exploring. You bumped into Wing and fell to the ground. “Oh spirits, I’m so sorry.” He mumbled nervously and helped you up. “Oh no it’s okay, honestly I should be sorry. I caused you to lose that game right?” You excused as you took his hand and stood up. “Oh well, it’s hard to resist looking at a pretty face.” Wing smiled, soon turning pink when he realized what he said, you did as well.

“Your Wing right? Where’s Wei?” “Oh, he went to brag to our dad about wining because I got distracted.” You giggled softly and then realized he didn’t even know your name! “M-My name is Y-Y/n.” You mumbled shyly and looked down at your feet. “Y/n is a lovely name.” Wing chuckled softly and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. “So are you a Firebender? I assume since your Mako held some fire at me.” He laughed nervously.

You shook your head with a smile. “No, Bolin and I are Earthbenders. Mako is the only Firebender from my mom’s side of the family. My father is from the Earthkingdom, Ba Sing Se. That’s all I know, Mako and Bolin don’t tell me much about them. I was too young to remember.” You shrug as you start walking again, him following suit. “What do you mean?” “Oh! My parents were killed. I was really young at the time, only like three or two.” You shrug.

“I’m sorry.” Wing said softly, glancing at you now and then. “Don’t be!” You said with the most gorgeous smile he had ever seen. “Well, to change the subject, do you Metlbend?” “Oh no. Bolin taught me everything I know, and he can’t Metalbend so I can’t either. Watching you though, it was very enchanting! The movements were so graceful from you two. Bolin and I do street style, fighting dirty I guess you could say.” You shrugged and looked over at him, the stray hair curled on his forehead looked so cute. “I could teach you if you’d like.” Wing offered with a smile. “I’d like that!”

That morning was eventful. Since your clothes were a little bland and dirty, Opal lent you an outfit that she didn’t wear. It was the usual Earthkingdom garb but not a dress, since you weren’t really that ‘ladylike’ anyways. It was the usual loose-fitting pale green shirt and dark green pants. When you walked into the dining room for breakfast, you sat by Wing. Mako and Bolin were LIVID. 

Like, why are you sitting by the guy that was checking you out yesterday? Mako being his usual self was glaring. You noticed this, and Earthbended the ground to hit him in the shin. He let out a grunt and you just smirked happily. 

“Wei, Wing! Are you doing another power disc game today?” Suyin asked, earning the attention of everyone. “Um, actually...I’m gonna be teaching Y/n how to Metalbend.” Wing said with a smile. “That’s great! I’m going to be teaching Korra as well. You should join us, Bolin.” She smiled as your brother. “I can’t actually Metalbend. I’ve tried before and couldn’t- Ow Mako..” Bolin whined the last part but sighed. “I guess I’ll try..” He grumbled.

The teaching went really well! Both you and Korra seemed to be naturals. Bolin obviously didn’t want to be there but Mako requested that he go to keep an eye on you and Wing. Currently, Wing was showing you positions for bending. He was telling you jokes and you had little giggles as you moved with him. It was a fun time and Korra stopped to watch with Bolin and Suyin. 

“Doesn’t Y/n look happy?” Korra said with a soft chuckle. Suyin hummed in agreement, “I haven’t seen Wing this happy since he was a child.” The mother gushed, sighing softly. “I know, it’s cute.” Bolin admitted with a grumble. “I’m happy for her, but Mako is being his overprotective self over our babysis.” He sighed softly and looked down. 

You and Wing started to get closer the more time you spent in Zoafu. Then Korra was almost kidnapped. You were terrified when Wei, Wing, Suyin, and Lin sat they were going to attack from the top. What if they got to the Beifong’s, your heart would be broken. You hadn’t confessed your feelings, neither did Wing but it was pretty obvious that you and Wing liked each other more than friends as you lead on.

“Are we in the clear?” Wing’s voice rang through the radio. “No, not clear.” Mako said but they went anyways. You were crying at this point, scared that they would be killed and so would Korra. Your mind was going a hundred miles a minute until you say that they were safe. You practically jumped into Wing’s arms when you saw him. “Thank the spirits you’re okay. I was so worried!” You cry as he hugs you back tightly. “I was worried about you. Still being down here. I was safer up there, plus you know I’m strong.” Wing whispered against your hair and squeezed you tightly.

“Shut up…” You sniffled and got on your tippy-toes to kiss the Beifong boy. You felt his smile through the kiss, which caused you to giggle. He spun you both around happily as you kissed. When you both pulled away you realized all eyes were on you. Mako was giving Wing his best death glare. “Mako…” Bolin started but Mako just shook his head and put his hand on Wing’s shoulder. “Just take care of her.” He mumbled with a small smile before walking away. 

Bolin was freaking out but in a happy way. “OHMYGOSH you guys are soooo cute!” He gushes with Opal and Suyin. Suyin gives an approving smile as Wing wraps his arm around your waist. Everyone seemed to think you were the cutest couple ever. You were also a very badass one but we’ll get into that later

[fleckcmscott]

Coffee & Donuts

Summary: Arthur’s thrilled to be part of a crowd. Though the evening doesn’t go perfectly, Y/N’s flirtations make it sweet.

Warnings: Smut

Words: 4,602

A/N: Alright. After the heart wrenching angst of my last piece (which I love, by the way; don't get me wrong! 😂), I had to write another story in which Arthur and Y/N are happy and together. It's inspired by one of Arthur's visions during their kiss. I hope you all like it! Special thanks to @jokerownsmysoul for beta-ing!

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open!

Parties and celebrations weren't foreign to Arthur. He'd worked plenty, enough to make him realize what he'd been missing out on. He was well-versed in pin the tail on the donkey, musical chairs, and balloon animals. But as an adult, those activities didn't satisfy. He wanted to be included rather than paid. Connect with people, introduce himself. Discuss his experiences and pursuits. Feel sufficiently at ease to loosen up a little and have a good time.

Now he was a guest - a certified guest - at Patricia Gorman's fifty-sixth birthday party. The first party he'd been invited to since being the weird kid in class who'd rotated between three worn out sweaters and could never afford a gift.

He'd been a tad apprehensive about going to Burnside. Gotham's nicest borough had a reputation for high rents and low tolerance. When Y/N and he had entered 2E, however, Patricia's greeting ("You made it!") and the apartment were thoroughly welcoming. Crocodile brown walls and forest green shag carpet made the spacious living room a cozy hideaway. Marigolds leapt across the polyester of the T-cushion sofa and its easy-chair companion. The floor lamp's amber, crimped glass shades cast the spacious living room in a glow borrowed from warm autumn days.

Patricia's husband, Robert, was out on an emergency call. An HVAC had gone haywire in a residential building in Hinckley. Her daughter, son-in-law, and grandson had been by for lunch. That meant the only other guests were Matt - Y/N's old boss - and a bottle-blonde in a black halter dress and spike heels, who Y/N introduced as Laura. ("She's Matt's ex-wife," Y/N later disclosed. "He's been trying to win her back since I moved to Gotham.") Both shook Arthur's hand when he offered it, and he felt a little thrill whirl his stomach when Y/N laid claim to him by telling the woman, "This is my husband."

A collection of appetizers served as dinner, a fun and novel menu. The slow cooker meatballs Y/N and he had lugged over on the subway were a bit tangy; he still couldn't believe the recipe called for grape jelly. The deviled eggs with paprika, a pleasant mix of savory and sweet, was a dish he'd heard about on television. Cream cheese and cucumber sandwiches were light and airy, a good match for his iced tea. Only the artichoke and spinach dip gave him pause. Its beans and hot sauce made his taste buds wince.

That unpleasant flavor was quickly forgotten when Y/N pulled him to sit next to her on the sofa, so Patricia could open her presents. She proudly showed off the orange, clay ashtray her grandson had made for her. Arthur, having successfully kept the secret of her light smoking from Y/N, chuckled at Patricia fibbing she'd put candy in it. She thanked Matt and Laura for the champagne, wrapped in a silver bow with a simple "Happy Birthday" tag. The bottle wasn't popped. Upon peeking into the large giftbag Y/N placed on her lap, she made a soft sound. The Dazey whirlpool bath, which attached to the side of the tub and had three strength settings, was a hit. She announced her plans to try it in the morning. The dark blue Rexbuilt briefbag was intended to replace her cracked, leather briefcase, Y/N explained. Patricia ran her fingertips along the expanding inner compartments, the personalized planner that included the credential "CLA" after her name, and flipped through the included steno pads, eyes brimming.

She sipped at her cocktail and put an arm around Y/N. Melancholy tinged Patricia's voice. "At my age, the people in your life tend to stay the people in your life. Whether you like them or not." She reached further and patted Arthur's knee. "I'm glad an old dame like me gets to call you all friends." His throat clenched in gratification, though he wasn't daring enough to squeeze her hand and thank her for deciding he was a friend.

Still on top of the world an hour later, Arthur sauntered to the red and white enamel dining table to serve himself a second slice of upside-down pineapple cake. The evening had gone well, better than a guy with a natural inability to mingle could've expected. He bobbed his head to the beat of "Come Fly with Me." It was a happy coincidence that Patricia's taste in music aligned with his. She'd regaled him with tales of seeing Sinatra and Count Basie on her and Robert's honeymoon in Vegas. Arthur took a bite absentmindedly, wondering how long it would take for him to save the money to surprise Y/N with plane and concert tickets.

The daydreaming didn't last long. Matt's plodding footsteps preceded him, followed by a long sigh as he propped himself on the beige stone of the dining area's accent wall, across from the u-shaped kitchen. He held out a Budweiser and smirked. "Marriage is a hell of a lot of work."

Pleased that he was being treated like one of the guys, like a regular husband with a regular relationship who got to speak about his regular wife, Arthur accepted the beer and considered the comment. Matt's sentiment was hard to grasp. Dr. Sally had said marriage could be difficult, and Y/N's first hadn't survived the ripples of her life. But it didn't feel like work with her. Their arguments were minor. Her nagging him to find a primary doctor for annual check-ups, even though he'd survived this long without one. Or back in Missouri, when he'd told her to stop shielding him and trust he could take anything she had to give.

Arthur adopted a similar nonchalant posture and jutted his hip against the table's edge. "I like it. It's easy to take good care of her." He wasn't able to completely erase the smugness of success from his tone.

"You're what? Two years in with the most headstrong woman in Gotham? She's great and all, but she spikes my blood pressure." Matt slapped Arthur's back and let out a hearty guffaw. "Give it five more and you'll be in my office trying to avoid alimony."

"Don't. Say that." Arthur crinkled the can in his grip and glared up at him.

"Hey," Matt started, withdrawing even as he tried diplomacy. "It was just a joke. I didn't mean anything by it."

Flinching, pulling at the cuffs of his red sweater, Arthur fought the surge of anger in his veins. It wouldn't do to lose control and cause a scene. Of course Matt's comment about them splitting up was supposed to be a joke. But Arthur didn't find it one bit funny. Even with his complete faith in her and his firm belief that they were meant to be together, the possibility that she'd stop wanting him hurt. It didn't occur to him that the implication of the punchline could be that he'd get sick of Y/N.

With a muttered apology, Matt walked to the others in the kitchen. Arthur glanced over to see her laugh tipsily, until she grabbed her stomach and swatted Patricia's shoulder, a stark demonstration of how much he and Y/N differed. She always knew how to respond to people, the right comebacks. Appropriate timing and levels of interaction. It seemed she was in her natural element, the loveliest swan on a lake. Whereas after years of therapy and practice with her, he was still a fish out of water, flopping around on the shoreline in hopes some stranger would take pity on him and throw him back into the sea.

Maybe that was the real punchline. Eventually their contrasts would no longer complement each other and instead become a chore.

Scowling, he ambled towards the record player stationed before two double-hung windows. Increased the volume to drown out the intrusive notions. It didn't really work. He settled on a grounding technique he'd practiced, all the while lamenting that he couldn't handle a party without needing it. His attention went to the spinning LP, the needle following its grooves. The bright blue album cover, where Ol' Blue Eyes beckoned him, the scuff marks on the cardboard's corner edges. He acknowledged the spider plants sat on the windowsill, worried a papery leaf until it broke off. He stared out the window, taking in the whole of the city. Pinpricks of light dazzling in the darkness.

"Gotham's beautiful at night," Y/N said from behind him. He glanced over his shoulder to watch her approach. Her cheeks glowed with alcohol and good cheer, the collar of her ivory blouse unbuttoned. "There's a life behind every light out there. Ten million of them. Here. Try this." She offered her hurricane glass, filled with an off-white slush.

He sipped the pina colada with cautious skepticism and grimaced as soon as it hit his tongue. The blend of pineapple and coconut tasted of cheap sunscreen and tropical imitations, the kind advertised in smudged brochures for bad cruises to islands with made up sounding names. "No, thanks."

Snorting, she shrugged and embraced his back at the waist. "How are we doing?" she asked, curling into his side. After a few seconds, she prodded him. "Had your fill of Matt?"

"He was just joking." Arthur rubbed the back of his neck and sighed.  She set the drink next to the record player and brought her hand to his, trailed it over the inside of his wrist, up his forearm. She pecked his chin and nudged him until he turned to her. As soon as their gazes met, the concern in hers told him she'd continue to pepper him with questions. But he wasn't about to let his misplaced doubts spoil her evening. And he knew the perfect way to distract them both.

A new song started. An oldie that sang of Jupiter and Mars, playfulness among the stars. He cupped her cheek, thumb sweeping the corner of her mouth. "Dance with me," he said. Before accepting his proffered palm, she laid a sloppy kiss on him. With a flutter of her eyelashes, she grinned, and his smile grew to match her own. As he held her side, led her in a slow, swaying circle, he marveled at her. At her ability to soothe every molecule, every lingering ache. Self-assurance welled in him, chased away his earlier dejection. He cradled her to his lanky frame, trembled and felt himself blush. She was the only woman for him. That was as certain as his cigarette habit.

Despite Patricia's reassurances she was fine, that Robert working late wasn't unusual, Y/N insisted on staying until he got home. Though Arthur would have preferred they take their leave an hour earlier, being allowed to smoke inside blunted his grumbling. The disarming flirtations she bestowed on him also didn't hurt. She'd pour herself a drink (four in total, if he counted correctly), help Patricia make a plate of leftovers for her husband, then throw him a wink. Whisper and cackle while cleaning, then kiss his temple.

Around midnight, Patricia put her foot down. Ushered them out with a promise to call and a hug fierce enough to crush his ribs. She raised a brow at Y/N's unsteady gait, grasped Arthur's arm, and said with a wry, tired smile, "Make sure you put that woman straight to bed." His dark brows shot up and held. Had she intended a pun? Or had Y/N's spare caresses caused the interpretation? Either way, he liked being trusted to take care of her. And the hint of arousal that flared in his belly.

By the time they stumbled into their apartment, that arousal had reduced to a dull exhaustion. She kicked off her heels on the way to the bathroom, calling a slurred "night!" as she closed the door. Yawning, he put dish soap and hot water in the crockpot, scrubbed burned bits of sauce from its rim, turned it upside down on a towel to dry. Once he'd brushed his teeth for one minute rather than the recommended two, he tossed his sweater, trousers, briefs, and socks in the hamper, and went to the bedroom. He found his blue pajamas in their usual spot, the chair in the corner, and slid them up his skinny but toned legs. Tucked in next to her, he was carried to sleep on waves of fatigue and her quiet, wet snoring.

~~~~~

A tickle threatened to rouse him. Whispers along the waistband of his bottoms. Heat snuggled his back. Delightfully drowsy, he cuddled deeper into cozy, cream-color sheets, already returning to a pleasant, dreamless slumber. But a rumble of exhaust, likely from a bus that needed a new muffler, dragged him to consciousness. Arthur grumbled and tucked his arm under his pillow, not ready to transition to a world of overcrowding and concrete, commotion and bad jokes.

Yet, Y/N's insistent grazes continued, luring him with promises of placid pleasure. Her toes wiggled at his heel until he made space for her to slip her foot between his ankles. The corner of his mouth quirked. He was reminded of last night's playfulness, her endless teasing. The way he'd held the crockpot as a shield to fend off her advances on the train home, her forwardness to the point that he would've preferred having a laminated card to present on her behalf. Forgive my wife: she has a condition. It causes frequent and uncontrollable displays of affection.

Nimble fingers edged lower, loosened the tie of his pajamas before dipping beneath the loose elastic to lace through his dark brown curls, darker than the chestnut hair on his head. Her knuckles ran over him, lazy caresses full of intent. Up and down, up and down. Delicate. Deliberate. The blood racing to his groin, the pleasant swelling, made his abdomen twitch. Soon full and heavy, the sensitive tip straining the cotton seams, he pressed his lips together. When she skimmed the tender skin resting on his inner thigh, he flexed the muscle at the base of his erection. It bobbed and hit her wrist and she let loose a girlish giggle, more intoxicating than wine.

With her left leg draped over him at the knee, she undulated against his rear. Plush lips brushed the boney knobs of his spine, damp breath fanned the nape of his neck, labored, needy. Pebbled nipples grazed his back through the thin nylon of her nightgown, taunting and compelling. He made up his mind to throw an arm around her, to yank her on top of him. To eagerly take part in her seduction.

But she withdrew from his bottoms to palm his stomach and plant a gentle kiss to the shell of his ear, whispering, "Sleep tight." The mattress shifted and she rolled away from him. He furrowed his brows. She rarely relented this easily - other times he'd awakened, hard and aching, enveloped by the captivating wetness of her mouth. What was she up to?

Covers rustled. Her calf bumped his. And the opposite of what he'd assumed occurred. Instead of light footfalls leading out of the room, there was silence, silence that seemed to stretch on and on...

Until a hitched gasp gave her away.

Touching herself. She was touching herself. She'd just been all over him, acted like he was some sort of model on the cover of Vue magazine, and now she was touching herself. Right beside him! Ecstatic to have inspired such brazenness, he grinned and fisted the pillow. Her fleeting, stifled moans tangled him in knots, implored him to give her what they both burned for.

He flipped in her direction, his hand shooting under the sheet to grab hers. "Gotcha."

Eyes wide, she gaped at him in surprise. But adoration softened her expression as she entwined their fingers. "How long have you been awake?" she asked.

"Long enough."

He stretched to rewind the shades, the diaphanous curtains staying in place. Sunlight diffused over them, wrapped around her face, lent her disheveled hair a warm luster. He twirled a feathered lock and pecked her eyelids. "Finishing what you started on the subway, hm?"

"Me?" Y/N brought his knuckles to her mouth.  "You're the one who came to bed without any underwear."

"Well, it was a late night." The pad of his thumb tugged at her bottom lip to reveal the pink tip of her tongue. He bent to claim it. "I was lucky to find my pajamas."

Chuckling, she broke their connection. "Did you have a good time?"

"Yeah. The cake was good. And the music. Everyone was nice."

"Patricia loved having you there. She thought you were very sweet." A pause as she mapped a dimple. "Matt said he'd upset you. Something stupid about breaking up?"

Vague shadows of discomfort flashed through Arthur, a frustration he'd mostly moved on from. He did his best to ignore it, waving her concern away. "Don't worry about it."

"He was just jealous, you know." Her nails ran along the small of his back. "He wants Laura to look at him the way I look at you."

Arthur had spent so much of his life yearning for change, to understand his purpose in the world and improve himself. The idea that a man with a good education, a successful career, and no disabilities could ever be jealous of him was, frankly, bizarre. But he didn't correct Y/N, instead locking her praise within his heart, preserving it for when he needed it most. He boosted himself on his forearm and fiddled with her V-neck, traced its button loops as he slipped the plastic knobs through them. "And how's that?'

A hint of scandal glimmered in her irises. She arched into him as he eased a strap down her upper arm to reveal her shapely breast, the lilac fabric momentarily catching on its taut peak. "Like I can't get enough of you."

He huffed at that, fondled her faintly before his lips met the velvety skin of her chest. A tonic comprised of the musk oil she'd dabbed on before the party and distinct sexual wanting wafted to his nostrils. He licked at her nipple, the bumps on her areola, and drew it between his teeth. She whined softly and lifted the bottom of her nightdress to her waist.

Hurriedly, he yanked on the waistband of her cotton panties, pushed them past her knees. She kicked them off while he knelt to lower his bottoms. Straddling her, he pumped himself back to hardness and opened the drawer of her nightstand. He searched haphazardly until he retrieved a small, glass bottle of lubricant. (She'd ordered it from a mail catalog, both of them a bit too bashful to walk into an adult shop, even together.)

She snagged it from him and poured half a teaspoon in her hand, then palmed herself. He moved between her legs and she grasped his length, coating him with the warm, slippery liquid. He pushed forward into her. Gradually, slowly, savoring every millimeter of her enticing heat. He noted the stretch of her mouth, the jut of her jaw, the lifting of her upper lip. "Mmm..." she breathed and begged him to keep going. When he did, her head tilted back into the pillow, eyelids falling shut. A smile cut across her cheeks as she purred her satisfaction. "Arthur, I love you."

His touch wandered down the curve of her thigh. At the sight of her subtle writhing beneath him, the sway of her slightly uneven breasts in time with his languid thrusts, he pushed her knee into the mattress, splayed her wider. He grunted lowly. "Look at me."

Their gazes met but didn't hold for long; hers dropped to where they were joined. She caressed right above his pubic bone. "I love seeing you like this." Her fingertips walked a line up his sternum to his chest. "And touching you like this." She wrapped her arms around his middle and drew him to her, locked their lips in a greedy kiss. "And making love like this."

He snorted. "I think this is the only reason you married me."

"Well, not the only reason. There's your good hair, too."

"I've been thinking about cutting it. Trying something new."

"Don't you dare." She tugged at his loose curls, wore her best pout. "What else would I hold onto when we're doing this?"

Laughing lightly, he bumped his nose to hers. Falling into her was like falling into his old fantasies, the ones that'd sustained him through years of isolation. Dates at diners, at comedy clubs, at donut shops, at home. Their shapes had changed as he'd matured, his role in them, his aspirations and infatuations. But they'd remained a warm comfort nonetheless, a place that felt like belonging. And now he belonged with her. Hunger filled him. Happiness. And love. So much love, more than he'd ever believed he'd carried in him. He bucked a little harder. "You feel so good," he murmured. "You make me feel so good."

A strained cry left her and her pelvis answered his steady rhythm with demands of its own. Her calves rose to squeeze him closer, encircle his narrow hips. They were pressed together so tightly; it felt like they were one flesh. He never wanted it to stop. But a dizzying euphoria had ignited, one that eclipsed the romantic yearnings of his heart, twisting his desire to last all morning into the desperate drive to possess her. Gasping, Arthur raised himself to his knees, delving deeper with each push. Their foreheads met and he grit his teeth at the scald of her, the texture of her walls. She fit as though she'd been made for him.

He supposed she was.

Pressure began in the base of him, building and building in terrific torment. The muscles of his inner thighs contracted inward. Tingling climbed his shaft, his tailbone, his spine. He wove his fingers into the sheet, his grip a vise that wrested its corner from the mattress. She kissed the spot where his jaw met his neck, all the while murmuring encouragements for him to let himself go.

Bliss shot through him, from the tips of his toes to the follicles on his scalp, and his back stiffened as he whimpered and poured into. Fever engulfed his frame, sublime in its frenzy, leaving him in a heady stupor. Aftershocks made him tremble. Once, twice. Until, sated and spent, he landed on top her. He closed his eyes, ribs rising and falling as he forced air into his lungs.

A minute later, he swallowed and looked down at her. "You didn't come."

She carded through his sweaty locks. "It's all righ-"

"Shh." He slid out of her and settled at her side, reached between her legs to swipe at her core. "I'm not done," he declared, tracing the edges of her entrance, slick and swollen. One of his favorite things about getting her off was demonstrating his prowess in bed, how well he'd learned with her. His thumb met her plump clitoral hood, and he felt her throb beneath his ministrations.

Nails biting his bicep, she rocked upwards. A bewitching blush crept up her breast, her neck, spread across her cheeks. Shallow pants hit his face, short puffs suffused with high-pitched whines, utterly irresistible. He circled her nub at a steady cadence, tapping when she'd shiver, and she clasped the back of his hand. He swirled his tongue around her nipple, sucked the pretty peak, and lowered the other strap of her nightgown to bare her completely. A hushed plea fell from her lips. "Please, please..."

Suddenly, her vulva grew white hot and she seized, her hips stuttering with each flutter of his touch to her folds. She thrusts her breasts towards him, a sharp moan caught in her throat. Liquid pooled against his fingers, proof of her rapture that made him wish, with mild amusement, that he could be an unmedicated young man again. He would've gladly taken her a second time.

Giggling and rubbing her temple, she released a long exhale and opened her eyes. He brushed her hair back and grinned, completely smitten, like the first time he'd heard a joke and understood the punchline. The light brown picture frame on his nightstand caught his attention, and he regarded the wallet size photo in it, one of the shots of Y/N from the booth at Amusement Mile. The last thing he looked at before turning in each night. He lay his head her shoulder and hummed, listened to the drum of her heart.

She smooched his hairline and wriggled out from beneath him to stand. Her nightie had been reduced to a crumpled stripe of lilac cinched about her waist. It felt tawdry and shameless and he wanted to see her in it for the rest of the weekend. But she peeled it down her legs, wrinkling her nose when it got stuck on her thighs, and stepped out of it one foot at a time. She dropped it on the floral bedspread and retrieved her bathrobe from the closet. "Meet you in the kitchen," she said, opening the door.

The sun had risen higher, its beams slanting across the covers. He basked in it, catlike, then swung his legs over the side of the bed. He pulled on his pajamas, got a new pair of socks from their dresser, and made his way to the kitchen. He washed off the remnants of Y/N's arousal from his fingers, popped open a prescription bottle and took a tablet. He poured water into the coffeemaker, grabbed the can of grounds from the second shelf, added three scoops to the paper filter. Their three-tone brown mugs sat in their spot next to the machine, waiting to be filled.

When the glass coffeepot was half full, Y/N emerged from the bathroom, chuckling to herself. She opened the breadbox on the opposite counter and took out a wax paper bag. "Do you have any idea how dull this morning would have been if we'd never met? I'd have read the Sunday paper, had a drink. Probably worked on a file." He handed her a couple dessert plates, watched her put a donut on each one. "I wonder where you'd be. What woman you'd have breakfast with, what jokes you'd be writing, what magic tricks you'd have learned."

"Um..." At first he wanted to ask where this speculation had come from, if Matt had let her in on exactly what he'd said. But the confident slant of her smirk told Arthur she was teasing. He tried to play along but winced. No matter how appealing, how extraordinary she found him, his gut told him there wouldn't have been another woman. There'd be no more stand-up routines, no more Carnival. He certainly wouldn't be taking care of Penny. He'd likely be locked up in the hospital, maybe even dead. Without an anchor, his life would have lost what little sense it had.

Y/N was one of his anchors now, hooked into the sand alongside his material, treatment, the ability to pay bills. He seized her hand and squeezed it tight, unaware he was squishing her fingers. "I don't wanna think about it," he said quietly.

She sidled up to him and pulled him to her side. Rubbed his flank soothingly and pecked the corner of his mouth. "Don't worry." She took his chin and guided him to look at her. The intimate comfort of her smile helped him believe her next words, even before she spoke them. "I'll always be here."

~~~~~

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve @ithinkimaperson @sweet-nothings04 @stephieraptorr @rommies @fallenstarsabyss @gruffle1 @octopus-plasma @tsukiakarinobara @arthur-flecks-lovely-smile @another-day-in-chuckletown @hhandley80 @jokerownsmysoul @fakestreet​ @ralugraphics​​ @iartsometimes​

[moistmailman]

Genderswap Arkos part 7

Pyrrhus’ scroll: *dings*

Pyrrhus, perking up: Hmm?

*Pyrrhus checks it, expecting a message for him but instead only shows him being tagged in a thirst tweet in which he’s tagged in*

Pyrrhus, sighing deeply: *blocking the person*

Jeanne, who was looking over his shoulder: *chuckling* Lucky I don’t have to deal with that. Guess being a bland girl has some benefits, huh? *chuckles slightly louder*

*Jeanne expected to hear chuckles from the boy but instead only received silence*

Pyrrhus, annoyed: What do you mean by that?

Jeanne, slightly jumping from his tone: E-Eh?

Pyrrhus, crossing his arms: What’s that supposed to mean?

Jeanne, awkwardly: O-oh, y-you know? I-I’m just....plain, I guess. Nothing’s really eye catching about me like the other girls at this school at least.

Pyrrhus, frowning: And What makes you say that?

Jeanne: Because nobody every flirts with me at all. I doubt most people even know of my existence honestly. I’m not like anyone on RWBY, who have admirers. I’m just plain.

Pyrrhus: *scoffs*

Jeanne, quickly: I-it’s not really that bad being plain. I’ve been told that I’m like a hamburger with no toppings. It not bad, but just...you know, not like a juicy double cheeseburger with bacon. *chuckles*

Pyrrhus: And who told you that?!

Jeanne, awkwardly: Uhm....I’d rather not say.

Pyrrhus: Why not?!

Jeanne: Cause I’m afraid what you might to do them.

Pyrrhus, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms: Well whoever it was sounds like a real jerk.

Jeanne: It’s okay. It didn’t offend me, really. They’re kinda right actually. Compare to someone like Yang, I’m really lacking behind in the looks department.

Pyrrhus: What does Yang have that you don’t?

Jeanne: Well uhm....for starters, she’s taller, and also she had bigger....ahem, ’girls’ than me, and her butt is—

Pyrrhus: You really think that all guys look for in a girl? Her body?

Jeanne: Huh? W-well n-no, I mean, there are plenty of guys who don’t look for that. B-but still. I don’t see anything that makes me special.

Pyrrhus: Well I can name a handful of attributes that are desirable to me.

Jeanne, blushing:........l-like what?

Pyrrhus: Well for starters you have the prettiest smile in this school.

Jeanne, blushing more: I-I do?

Pyrrhus: Yeah. Seeing your smile alone can brighten my day no matter how bad it is. You have no idea how much I just stare at it, trying to memorize every detail of it, rather it be the curve of your lips or your dimples. To say it leaves me breathless would be an understatement. It practically leaves me gasping for breath.

Jeanne: *avoiding his eyes in embarrassment*

Pyrrhus: And you have one of the cutest laughs I’ve heard as well, even if you don’t like how it sounds.

Jeanne, blushing: W-well I-I d-don’t like how I snort sometimes.

Pyrrhus: Well I find it adds to your charm. Your laugh sounds better than most songs on the radio.

Jeanne, fidgeting with her hair: W-What e-else do you like from me?

Pyrrhus: Your eyes. They can be so mesmerizing. I’ve lost count how many times I’ve zoned out during conversation we have until I could snap out of it, causing me to nod my head dumbly and pray that you didn’t ask me a question.

Jeanne: R-really?

Pyrrhus: Yeah. I also find it so cute when you play with your hair when your nervous—

Jeanne: *instantly stop playing with her hair in embarrassment and put them in her pockets*

Pyrrhus, chuckling: Or put your hands in your pockets as well.

Jeanne: *takes her hands out of her pockets and pouts in embarrassment*

Pyrrhus, stepping closer to Jeanne: Your blushing face is also adorable. They make your eyes really stand out whenever you start, which can distract me even more, making me think I’m being distracted by a tomato.

Jeanne: *pouts*

Pyrrhus, smiling: An extremely cute tomato of course; if that makes any sense. *chuckles* You’re also one of the most honest and kindest souls I’ve ever had the pleasure to meet, and I thank the gods everyday for being blessed of having you in my life.

Jeanne: *face atomically red*

Pyrrhus: *now very close to Jeanne*

Jeanne, quietly:.......I-I d-didn’t know you thought of me that way.

Pyrrhus: I do. And there are many more things I can bring up. I could be here all day, Jeanne, just describing how amazing you are. Any person would be lucky to have a girl like you.

Jeanne, timidly looking him in the eyes: A-anyone?

Pyrrhus, with conviction: Anyone.

Jeanne, heart beating like a jackhammer:........*face slowly leans towards Pyrrhus*

Pyrrhus: *meeting her half way*

Jeanne/Pyrrhus’ faces: *inches apart*

Yang, kicking down the door: P-MONEY, TIME TO BRAWL!

Jeanne/Pyrrhus: *jump away from each other, both red to the face*

Pyrrhus, nearly scared shitless: W-What?! Yang, what are you doing here!?

Yang, slamming her gauntlets together: It fight time, boy! Meet me in the arena! Wait, hold on, what’s going on here? Why are you faces red?

Pyrrhus, blushing: B-because of uhm......

Jeanne, blushing: Humidity!

Yang: What?

Jeanne: I-it’s Hot! S-So o-our faces are red from the heat! There’s like no air in here!

Yang: *looking in-between Pyrrhus and Jeanne*

Pyrrhus/Jeanne: *sweating nervously*

Yang:....then put a fan in the window or something if you guys are this hot. Fuckin’ hell.

Jeanne, nodding multiple times: Right! Of course! I’ll do that right away!

Yang: Great! Now anyway, *slamming gauntlets together* My fists and your face have a little date, Invi-boy. Come on! You promised me last week!

Pyrrhus: B-But I was— *looks over at Jeanne before sighing* Fine. Let’s go.

Jeanne: *frowns sadly*

Yang, smiling: Great! Let’s go!

Pyrrhus: Right behind you.

Yang: *leaves the room*

*the door suddenly slams shut and locks with a black aura around it*

Yang, muffled: What the?! Hey!

Jeanne, confuses: Wait, What are you— MMF!

Pyrrhus: *grabs Jeanne and pulls her into a deep kiss*

Jeanne: *eyes wide with fireworks going off in her head before she slowly closes her eyes and kisses him back*

*soon the human need of oxygen became a nuisance and the two teens pull away from each other, both panting for breath*

Jeanne, blushing: I.....wow....

Pyrrhus, smiling: Yeah....wow.

Yang, muffled: Hey! Don’t try to skip out of this fight, Invi-boy! Come on! *bang bang bang*

Pyrrhus, chuckling: I think I should probably go. Our poor door doesn’t deserve this abuse.

Jeanne, smiling: Y-Yeah. So Uhm.....continue this afterwards?

Pyrrhus: Bet on it.

[peterprkrsbtch]

sapphire - part 2

Peter Parker x reader

A/n: Part 1 is up on my page! There’s a couple flashbacks in this one so I put the dates before so it doesn’t get confusing. If you enjoy this one, like or reblog to share! I already wrote part 3 and it’s my favorite one yet so that’ll def be up soon :)

tag- @juliannaamonroe​

Warnings: swearing, make out, violence

(September 1)

We’re one minute away. Come out hoe!

You smile as you read the text, glancing at yourself in the mirror again, nerves and excitement ablaze in your stomach. You’d been planning for this day since last winter, and now it was finally here. You adjust your carefully styled hair and double check that the natural makeup you applied was sitting on your skin correctly.

Of course it was. That goddamn injection sometimes made you feel like a vampire out of twilight and sometimes you still got surprised when you saw your own face while passing a mirror or a particularly reflective window. You smooth down the ruffles of your short black skirt and tug the top of your tank top down so a bit more of your curves show.

You put on your white sneakers and tug your shirt back up to cover your chest again. We’ll have to work up to that, I guess. A long honk sounds from outside your apartment building and you curse as you scramble to grab your backpack and phone before running down and out the front steps.

“Awwww,” You say sweetly at the sight of the two girls who had become your best friends. “That’s the shirt you were wearing when we met, Ally.” You jokingly brush away a tear, pretending to be ultra touched.

“Best damn day of my life.” Ally says from her spot in the drivers seat, laughing at your dramatics. She may be joking around, but her sentiment makes your heart clench. This year really was going to be different.

***

(July 3)

You quickly realized you needed to find some Midtown friends if your plan for senior year was going to work. If you dared to show up looking, well, like you do, completely alone and friendless, you might become even more of an outcast than you were before. The first month of summer had been the least lonely time of your year so far, thanks to a certain Spiderman.

The two of you spent most of your nights together, flying through the city, fighting crime together, and talking. The “slow” nights that used to fill you with boredom quickly became your favorite when he was involved. The sound of his laugh and the jokes he makes during fights quickly became the highlight of your days.

But you couldn’t let yourself get too distracted by him. After all, neither of you knew what the other looked like. The only other boy you’d ever found remotely cute (other than celebrities) was nerdy Peter Parker from your high school. He wasn’t your usual type and he seemed to be just as shy as you were, so you had little (zero) hope that it would ever lead to anything more than a smile during the hallway if you accidentally made eye contact.

Sorry Spiderman, but no way in hell are you gonna make me lose my focus. The loneliness you had felt through the last three years of high school was too much. Your plan had to work. So that night as the two of you patrolled together, you softly mentioned that you were going to a pool party tomorrow and wouldn’t be able to meet.

He seemed a bit disappointed, but you brushed it off, trying to remember the names of the girls at your school who seemed nice. Peter, however, couldn’t focus on anything other than the fact that you had told him where you would be tomorrow. There was only so many pool parties in a city like New York.

You tried not to think about who was under the Spiderman mask out of respect and, to be honest, it seemed like a pointless endeavor. Peter was not the same. No matter how tired he was from patrol, he always had time to lay awake before he fell asleep and picture what you would look like under the mask.

There wasn’t very many people who understood Peter’s secret life. None, actually, until you. Maybe that was why he was so intrigued by you, because you were so similar, but in his heart he knew that wasn’t it. He liked you. And he hated himself for it. But once you mentioned the pool party, he made sure to take one long last glance at the color of your hair before you two said goodbye. Just in case he happened to see that same hair tomorrow.

(July 4)

You were so, so nervous. Your closet of exclusively sweats and hoodies was trashed as Part 1 of your plan, much to your mother’s happiness. She had always been honest about her hatred of your junior year clothes and was extremely excited to purchase everything you needed. As distant as she was, you had to give her a little credit.

Although you’d been wearing the new clothes for the past month, this was the first time you were doing it so publicly. Your denim shorts exposed miles of smooth leg, and you’d decided to wear a red tube top in honor of the holiday-not to mention it really showed off your curves. You’d meticulously done your hair and makeup like you’d been practicing the past month and prayed that somebody would talk to you today.

You’d seen the flyer for the Fourth of July party on Instagram, which had been step 2. Unfortunately, you had two followers. Your mom and her boyfriend. Step 2 is a work in progress.

One long walk later, and you’re in front of the address. You swear you could explode of nerves right there, but instead you take a deep breath and force your legs to carry you inside the house and towards the people out by the pool.

Your eyes are so focused on your destination, the glass sliding door, that you barely notice when you bump shoulders with someone, causing you to drop your phone.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t looking where I was going.” You say, reaching down to grab your phone.

“Oh my god, stop. That was totally my fault.” You stand back up to see the girl who was speaking, and you recognize her immediately. Her name is Ally, and she’s a part of the most popular group at school. Despite her long black hair and sweet smile, you haven’t heard many good things about her. Not the type of person you were looking for.

“Do you go to Midtown? I don’t think I’ve seen you around.” Ally says, making no move to walk away from the conversation.

“Yeah, actually. My name is Y/n?” You don’t miss the way her eyebrows raise and her eyes widen with confusion and shock. You’re embarrassed now, realizing maybe you weren’t as invisible as you’d thought. In an effort to explain away the last few years, “My dad left a couple years ago and it was pretty hard on me, but I’m all better now.” You flash the most dazzling smile you can manage and hope she accepts it.

“No way, mine did too!” She gasps as she grabs your hands. You feel a small pang of guilt at that. It was a lie, you had no idea who your dad was and frankly, you didn’t think your mom knew either.

The conversation starts to flow between you and Ally easily as you make your way out to the pool. “This is my best friend Betty.” Ally introduces you to the sweet-as-pie girl and the three of you quickly fall into a conversation like you’d known each other forever. A few of their guy friends tried to come up and talk to you, but she just waved them away. “Leave us alone, we just met our new best friend.”

You felt bad for judging Ally so harshly earlier, blindly trusting the stupid rumors you’d heard about her. Popular or not, the three of you got along better than any of the other friends you’d tried to make throughout your life. They do briefly make fun of your instagram before forcing you to take and post pictures with the two of them by the pool. They both tag your account.

Peter didn’t seem to share the good luck you did. He’d dragged Ned to 6 different pool parties across the city and saw no one who looked like Sapphire. Disappointed, he spent the night patrolling alone and dodging fireworks.

***

(September 1)

Since that day, you’d become a trio with Ally and Betty. The day after the pool party you’d woken up to nearly 1,000 followers on your instagram. Everyone from Midtown who never gave you a second look when you had your hood shoved over your head now wanted to be your friend.

The three of you spent the rest of your summer days together, and you fit into the popular friend group better than you could have imagined. Maybe you watched too many teen movies, but you expected them to be mean. The only mean one was Flash, and even he was basically harmless. You’d given up Saturday night patrols with Spiderman for a weekly girls night with your new best friends. You thought having new friends and a bustling social life would’ve made it easier to forget about Spiderman, but somehow he seeped into every area of your life.

That damn laugh. As Ally and Betty sing along to the radio loudly, you bite your lip to stop a dumb smile from rising to your lips. God, just thinking about him made you flustered. As Ally drives into the school parking lot, nerves bubble in your stomach.

As if you aren’t stressed enough, your brain decides this is the perfect moment to remind you of the one night this summer you and Spiderman haven’t talked about since.

*** (August 14)

The two of you were sprawled out on a gravel rooftop next to each other. Not the most comfortable of relaxing spots, but you’d both grown tired of flying around under the summer heat with no hint of trouble for miles.

“This sucks.” Spiderman huffs out.

“Rude.” You reply quickly, even though you know he isn’t talking about you.

“Oh, no,” He immediately sits up. “I didn’t mean you suck, I just meant, you know, because there’s not much going on right now and it’s hot and-” He sees your cheeky smile and stops himself with a laugh. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s cute.” You bite your lip. The fuck did I just say? Before you can begin to explain, he jumps to his feet.

“Spidey sense, let’s go!” You jump up too and follow after him as he jumps off the building. Thank god. I’ve never been so grateful that someone’s in trouble. The fight was tough, even with the both of you. These men had strange guns that keep firing at you and Spiderman even though you’d tried multiple times to crush them with your powers.

“The guns are magic-proof! I can’t destroy them!” You yell over to Spiderman as you take down one of the men in between punches.

Somehow, two men get ahold of their guns and corner you. Just as you start levitating to fly over them, a web shoots from somewhere behind them and the men and their guns are yanked away. Spiderman wastes no time and you swear he seems angry with the two men as he webs them to the wall next to their friends before picking up the guns and violently smashing them on the ground.

You’re still frozen in shock, watching him. When he seems to be satisfied with the broken pile of guns on the floor, he runs back over to you. “I’m so sorry, I know we promised-” You finally break out of whatever trance you were in to place a finger over his lips, casting a disgusted glance towards the men staring at you from their webbed cocoons.

“Not here.” You say quietly, and fly the two of you quickly up to the roof. He blinks for a second, his head spinning from the speed. You rarely use your full speed, especially with him, but you had to get out of there. “Okay, go ahead.” You say after a second of silence.

“I’m so sorry, I know we agreed not to get in each other’s way, and I know you can handle yourself, probably better than I can. Hold on, I didn’t mean I handle you. That sounded weird. Anyways, I just got so angry when I saw those men pointing their guns at you I had to-” He’s talking about the agreement you two had made when you first started working together. You both obviously were skilled, so you agreed that you wouldn’t interrupt each other’s fights unless asked.

“Spidey, I really don’t care you interrupted. It was hot.” JESUS CHRIST NOT AGAIN. You immediately winced and slap a hand over your mouth. “Oh my god I did NOT mean to say that I’m so sorry.”

Your rambling is cut off as Spiderman’s hand travels up to the bottom of his mask and you think your eyes might fall out of your head with how wide they become as he begins to pull it up, revealing the soft pale skin of his neck.

His jaw, chin, and then lips become visible as he lets the mask rest on his nose. The 0.5 seconds that have passed since you stopped talking feel like an eternity until he suddenly leans forward, crashing his lips into yours. Spiderman is an amazing kisser, you decide, as you gently kiss him back.

WHAT AM I DOING? Your mind is going haywire but instead of stopping, you deepen the kiss and nearly smile when he lets out a low moan. Everything you’ve told yourself about focus and distractions flies out the window when his gloved hands clutch your waist and pull you closer to him than you thought possible.

It feels like it’s only been a second when he pulls away, but your eyes flicker to his swollen lips and you know it must have been longer. You smile as you stare at his lips, only inches from yours, but as your gaze moves to the rest of his exposed skin the smile drops slowly.

Your rational mind comes back. It’s easy to forget when you’re with him that you’ve only known each other a couple months. How could you do this? Your first time making out with a boy, and he doesn’t even know your name.

“We shouldn’t be doing this.” You whisper as he starts to say something.  “Sorry, what were you going to say?” He blinks slowly and takes a deep breath before stepping away from you.

“Nevermind. See you tomorrow.” And he swings away from you. You silently curse yourself for being such a big mouth, wanting to know what he would have said. You can’t help the small voice in the back of your head, telling you that you made the wrong decision.

You raise your hand to run your fingers along your tingling lips before flying home as fast as you can.

***

(September 1)

You wince at the painful memory before reminding yourself everything was back to normal the next day and neither of you mentioned it again. You still weren’t sure if that was good or bad. You force all thoughts of Spiderman out of your brain and even give Ally an encouraging cheer when she successfully parks on her first try.

You don’t remember Midtown having so many fucking students last year, but maybe it was because they were all staring at you. Any confidence you’d had as you opened Ally’s car door had disappeared as everyone around you turned to gawk. The bright smile you’d pasted on a second ago quickly fell and you glanced at Ally nervously.

“Come on, girls!” She says enthusiastically, grabbing an arm from you and Betty as she breaks the brief moment of awkward silence. God bless you Ally. As the three of you hoist your bags over your shoulders and make your way into the school, you mouth a quick thank you her way, hoping she can see your genuine appreciation. She smiles at you. “I’m happy we’re going into this year as three instead of two.”

Betty leans forward to smile at you. “Me too, y/n. I’m really happy you’re here.”  You smile back brightly. There really was no one as sweet as Betty.

“You won’t be so happy I’m here when I talk your ear off during class.” The three of you continue laughing and joking your way down the hall to stop at your lockers.

“Oh my god, is that Y/n?” Ned interrupts Peter’s latest ramble about his night with Sapphire. Usually, he really did listen. Ned was fully invested in the superhero love story, as he called it, unfolding. But the sight of a girl notorious for hiding in her own baggy clothes across the hall in a miniskirt and tank top was more important.

“Y/n?” Peter asks, confused why Ned wasn’t paying attention. But when he turned around to see what Ned was staring at, he understood. He’d seen you around school the past three years, but never like this.

You looked like a fucking model. And everyone in the hall couldn’t help but stare. “Holy shit.”

“Right, dude?” Ned breathes out, the two of them shamelessly staring. “Why didn’t that happen to me over summer? Oh my god, of course she’s friends with Betty.”

Peter laughs as his best friend goes on about “two pretty best friends” but he can’t take his eyes off of you. The light in your eyes as you joke with your friends, making them double over in laughter, feels strangely familiar. Or maybe that’s wishful thinking on his part because you’re extremely pretty.

He watches in surprise as you and Ally walk up to the AP Chem classroom, waving goodbye to Betty sadly as she heads off to English. You turn to walk into the classroom after Ally, but you pause and look back down the hallway-right at him. Instead of yelling at him for being a creep like he expected, you smile at him widely before heading into the class. He exhales deeply and glances down at his schedule quickly, a smile appearing. AP Chem.

Of course his thoughts are still consumed by Sapphire, but it was hard to ignore you especially after seeing his name on the seating chart next to yours in the back row. Plus, Sapphire was the one who’d shot him down after he finally tried to make a move after catching onto the hints he thought she’d been dropping.

He felt bad for thinking that about her, he didn’t blame her at all. He knew there was a million reasons they shouldn’t be together-and he didn’t want to know specifics on why he wasn’t good enough. Sapphire hadn’t brought up that night since, and he was fine to pretend it never happened.

You were already in your seat at the lab table, but Ally was still standing next to you waving her hands wildly as you two spoke. He doesn’t want to interrupt so he freezes in place, unsure of whether or not to go sit down. He’d thought you were cute, and a little shy like him in freshman and sophomore year and he remembered the many times he would look at you from across the room like he is now.

His eyes had been quick to find you whenever you two were in the same room ever since the first day of school freshman year when you smiled at him in the hall. Even last year, when all he saw of you was a curled up lump at your desk or a sliver of hair peeking out from behind your hood he still noticed you.

Luckily for him, the bell rings and he slides into his seat just as the teacher begins speaking. “Hi, Peter.” You lean over to him, your shoulders nearly touching, and whisper so the teacher doesn’t hear. “I’m y/n.” You smile warmly as his cheeks and ears turn light pink.

“You don’t have to introduce yourself. We’ve gone to school together since we were 6?” Now it’s your turn to be embarrassed and you purse your lips together.

“No, I know, just-” Peter notices you seem a bit frustrated as you glance around the room and then lean even closer to him. “Everybody thinks I’m new.” You nervously mess with your bracelet.

“You do look a bit different.” He points out and you raise your eyebrows before sighing slowly and shrugging.

“I was just sick of feeling invisible, you know. Not because I care what anyone here thinks. Last year was just, really, really lonely.” Peter watches you intently as you speak, hanging onto your every word.

Your confession made him sad. If only he’d been brave enough to ask if you were okay. You pause for a second and meet his eyes. Any other guy in this school would’ve laughed at you by now. You gesture to your outfit and nervously adjust your skirt. “I’m also not a superficial person. It wasn’t about changing how I looked, I just needed the confidence to put myself out there.” You pause and nod towards Ally with a smile. Peter glances over to Ally and sees her blow you a kiss, which you catch across the room with a giggle.

I miss you! She mouths with a dramatic frown and this time Peter laughs quietly with you. “I thought she was a bitch before I met her.” He looks at you with surprise to find you smiling at him. “But,” you hold up a finger for dramatic effect, “because I put myself out there, I met my best friends. A lot of people around here judge on appearances. I’m not like that anymore.” You say with confidence.

“That’s really cool of you.” Peter whispers back, and the sound sends an involuntary shiver down your spine. He’s so close to you and the feelings you thought you left behind two years ago don’t seem so left behind as you stare into his warm eyes. “For the record, I’d be your friend no matter what you look like.”

Peter has only been this nervous a couple times before in his life, and he can’t help but feel like he’s betraying Sapphire with the way he’s thinking about you. He watches as you smile warmly at his words and extend your hand towards his.

“Friends? Even though I'm so much uglier now?” You pout your bottom lip out, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. He nearly laughs out loud and has to remind himself you’re still in class. “I know guys go wild for the homeless man sweatpants look.” You’re both trying to hold back your laughter, shaking silently in the back of the class as he raises his hand and grabs yours.

“Friends.” Peter isn’t sure why he keeps going, but he does. “And just so you know, you were never ugly. I don’t know why you tried so hard to hide yourself last year, but even then,” the words leaving his mouth sound confident but Peter takes a deep breath before looking up from his lap to meet your eyes. Your wide eyes and surprised smile give him just the confidence he needs to finish. “You could never be ugly.” Peter can hear his heart beating.

You blink at him. This boy could not be real. Here he was, basically implying that the one thing you had wanted all along, for somebody to notice you, was true. Not only was it true, but it was Peter fucking Parker telling you this. Despite everything that had changed you in the past year, the giddy feeling in your bones brought you back to sophomore year and pining over Peter.

“Really?” Your smile spreads and he seems to let out a deep breath of relief.

“Yeah.” He smiles back at you until your sweet moment is interrupted by a fat ass syllabus dropping onto the lab table in front of you.

“Fuck,” you whisper. “This class is gonna be so much homework.” You turn the page so Peter can briefly see the list of projects alone, and it’s enough to make him cringe.

Something about the way the whispers travel back and forth between you all class makes you realize you hadn’t fallen into a friendship this easily, even with Ally. Even with Spiderman, your brain points out.

A red and blue suit swings into your mind and you are hit with a wave of guilt. Not two hours ago I was thinking about my make out with Spiderman, and now I’m comparing him to Peter? 

You have all but one class together, and you can’t help but glance in Peter’s direction any chance you get. The only time you don’t see him is at lunch, even though you look all around the lunch room for him or the boy he’d been standing with this morning. You thought it would be too creepy to ask him where he’d been.

Finally, the last bell of the day rang, and you were sure if you didn’t have superpowers you would’ve been exhausted. School is kinda draining when you actually acknowledge people. Ally and Betty share your complaints about being tired on your drive home, all three of you agreeing you need naps. You kiss them both on the cheek and wave goodbye before heading up to your room.

Forget what I said about having superpowers. I’m fucking tired. You lay down on your bed, groaning into the pillow at the thought of having to patrol tonight. You sat up abruptly. You’d never dreaded patrol, it was always the thing you looked forward to. You glance towards the suit in your closet and sigh.

It’s not patrol I’m nervous about. It’s him. You feel incredibly guilty about today. I’m not a two timer. If I want to like Peter, I have to talk to Spiderman about that kiss first. You start to make your way over to the closet before another wave of exhaustion hits, sending you straight back to your bed.

After a nap. Then we’ll talk.

[cosmiclatte28]

Amnesia (Jaehyun x reader)

tw : amnesia, crazy parents, drunk driver accident, failed attempt to write an angst

a/n : hello, so I read this work I left since December 2020 but yeah I read this and turns out I want to know if this is interesting enough to have another chapter to finish the story or not. If not then it's okay I'll just leave it here, but if you're curious I can try work it out.

tagging @charmingyong @neopalette .. @yutahoes and @swagmonsterofficial who can probably help me with the writer's block . you too readers. help me finish this story :))) thxxx

The thing you fear the most in this life is the day where you lost your memories. Memories of everything important in your life. You've been so afraid of not remembering things, mostly because the doctrine of your parents planted inside your brain.

"Look at your brother, Doyoung, he aces all of his tests, have time to do sports, sings well, proper manners, and always practicing doing his best. You too should think of being like him."

For sixteen years you're always compared to him. For sixteen years you worked your brain off to memorize extended classes you were forced to take. For sixteen years you faked your identity in order to look smart. For sixteen years you pray with all your might nothing bad will happen to you that involves a reset button to your brain.

That day happened, on your last year of high school where you've prepared yourself for the national entrance test. You've forced your brain to memorize everything, maximizes all you know since young age, and even pushed your other desires aside (not that it is new, you never put your desire first)

You start preparing it one year prior

"Don't go too hard (y/n)... I know you can do this," your boyfriend (secret boyfriend) calls you when he checks on you.

"Oh Jaehyun-ah, as much as I want to slack off there is no way I'll live in peace if I score lower than Doyoung's." You reply him as you flip through some sets of questions.

Jaehyun sighs from the other end of the call "And your brother scored perfect?"

You hum "Actually yes he did."

"Did your parents really love you? Why are they torturing you this way... I remember playing when I was younger and yet I made it to this stage." The young future psychologist boasted.

Jaehyun is actually the same age as your brother, he is Doyoung's friend and he knew you from visiting Doyoung back then in high school. He secretly learns about your name and even your number, since then he's been calling you and giving you all the love, you could never get from your family.

"I study psychology and what they're doing is not good." Jaehyun lays down on his bed. As much as he questions himself why he wanted to date you he can't answer it.

His friends had been telling him to break up with you because you're just going to make his life hard since your parents went too hard on you. But his heart screams that he needs to help this little girl he secretly feels bad. Jaehyun saw you sitting on your room sticking your nose to a book he thought was a middle school's book... when you were just graduating elementary. He was pretty sure you're not happy and even Doyoung secretly spills the hidden feeling that he doesn't like seeing his sister treated that way.

He remembers the conversation he had with his bestfriend on that summer vacation

"Make it stop then Doyoung..." jaehyun said as he played with a soccer ball inside the big room.

Doyoung sighed "I tried Jae, but mom and dad didn't seem to listen. They just told me they wanted the best for (y/n) and that by pushing her she'll find her way to be successful."

Jaehyun snorted "Gosh I'm glad my parents are not like yours."

Doyoung massaged his nose bridge "I even tried messing up my scores, but I earned myself detention and she was told to never be like me. Look I tried rebelling, but they're not fazed."

Jaehyun rolled his eyes "Want to escape to my house? Take (y/n) too maybe..."

Doyoung buried his face on his hands "Oh I wish Jae! I am also hating this, but I'll be dead and if this involves (y/n) I'm double dead because," Doyoung fixed his posture and mimicked his parents "Doyoung you're the brother here, a gentleman will always protect a lady and (y/n) is your sister and she's a girl."

"Damn it. Jae, I need that scholarship!" Doyoung groaned.

Jaehyun nodded "The one offering a seat in USA? Go for it. I didn't see why you hesitated... with that brain you didn't need to study and still get perfect."

Doyoung went silent for a minute "But won't I just make her life harder? Who will help her if I am not here?"

Jaehyun snickered "As if you have been helping her at all... take that chance. I'll look after (y/n) she's already like my little sister."

Doyoung couldn't thank Jaehyun enough when he hugged his friend before leaving to the states.

Doyoung hugged you too and secretly whispered "Jae is my substitute, please please promise me you will be honest with him and tell him whatever you're feeling. I'll see you in the states! Girl this is your chance to leave the dark alley." Doyoung wiped your tear that left your eyes. Well Your brother has been secretly sneaking from his room to teach you things you still cannot understand when you're younger. He kept on apologizing for the situation you both live in... but you can't totally blame him too. In this life if someone asked you who were the most important person, you'll say it's Doyoung then Jaehyun.

In the meantime

"Look Jae, I need that scholarship... Doyoung is waiting for me. He's been telling me life is not that gloomy." You sound so hopeful and Jaehyun doesn't want to spoil your small happiness.

He sighs "Fine, you've learned enough! Please a good rest is also important."

"Yeah yeah say that to my parents and see if you got slapped." You giggled and Jaehyun noted that. Well he had been noting your behaviour too and planned to make you his first journal subject.

"Look I love you okay, don't tire yourself too much. Drink water, stay healthy and sleep." He bids you goodbye and little did you know that was probably the last night you could sit in your room and absorbed new materials inside your brain.

For the next day when you got home from school, you never made it back home. You did not remember anything, only a loud horn and your body hitting the asphalt. Your ear rang and your eyes went dark.

Your parents were crying when they heard the news of you getting hit by a car and it was a drunk driving accident. Jaehyun left his class when Doyoung texted him about you. Well Doyoung was called in the middle of the night and he was more than broken hearted to hear this.

Jaehyun was shocked when he heard the news, but he was more shocked when he sees your parents are there weeping like how parents love their children so much and super afraid of losing them.

He wonders why they would treat you so strict if they love you this much. Well some people say that is their way of showing love, but for rational people Jaehyun disagree how hard your parents were on you and your brother.

Your mother recognized Jaehyun and explained everything that happened.

Jaehyun's heart broke when the paramedics informed them on the next day that you got the amnesia.

Your parents cried maybe because it is the natural way to act, but Jaehyun's world collapsed when he remembered you telling him the worst thing you fear is waking up with a blank brain.

It took you some days to wake up from your coma, considering that you also had some broken bones and some operations are done on your body, Jaehyun's glad you woke up four days after the accident.

He saw it the first time you open your eyes and you squinted all around he saw the slight tremble you had in your eyes.

Though he's not sure if you have amnesia you could remember fearing this to happen, but he believed your heart remembered this fear and showed how scared you are.

The doctor ran the first test and you happened to know basic things like your name and at least your parents. You know their faces but not their names and Jaehyun, it took you some time but the glint of hope in your eyes was enough to let Jaehyun feels not left out.

"Jae" you whisper, and the doctors were delighted when you could mention his name.

Your parents were crying, feeling super sad that their daughter had to go through this but once you got a time alone with Jaehyun you couldn't cry nor can you laugh.

"Jae," that is all you can think of.

You move your hands and find them fascinating. Jaehyun wanted to cry, it's as if you're a baby discovering new things you can do again. This is the same girl who understand chemistry even when she's just eleven! The girl who speaks five languages fluently, the same girl who can play the hardest piano piece, the same girl who was forced to be perfect and she did it she was perfect but she lost everything she worked super hard for.... within one blink of an eye. For the first time after several years, Jaehyun cried his heart out in silence alone in his bedroom.

For two months you were on a therapy session to regain your memories and some of them are coming back. Jaehyun took a break on his school, saying he is doing a research (well he didn't lie) but mostly because he needs to and wants to take care of you. He didn't want your parents to ruin this golden chance of him fixing you (he wishes)

"Name?" Jaehyun asks every time he visited you. You could answer that easily "(y/n)"

"Siblings?" You could also answer that "Doyoung."

It took you sessions to find a trigger word that could bring more memories back.

"Books?" The doctor once asked and you blanked out. Your body shakes and the traumatic experience of being forced to read from a young age came into you.

"Books?" The therapist asks again when you kept quiet. Jaehyun sits next to you, holding your hand and he frowns when your grip tightens.

"Hell." Was all you say before clenching your fist and holding your head from throbbing so much.

You woke up on your private room already Jaehyun happens to be writing down the notes from today's session.

"I saw some memories Jae. What month is this?" You asked out of the blue

"No don't ask me questions. Rest (y/n)" Jaehyun tried to divert your attention.

"Month Jae!" You scream and right on time a nurse came in she heard your question and easily answered “November?"

You count and stared in horror "The test... 8 months left Jae! How can I memorize what I've learnt since baby to now?!"

The nurse was surprised maybe by your burst of words or just surprised by your sentence and Jaehyun shot her a dead glare.

She quickly changed your IV and left after seeing your panic stage.

You were shaking, nerves suddenly transmitting traumatic memories and you cried when you tried to remember everything you've worked super hard on... gone with one accident.

"(Y/n) calm down. Forget that! forget that test! You need to heal yourself first." Jaehyun holds you back from your panic attack.

Your parents saw you frantically shake on your bed with Jaehyun trying his best to calm you down. They ran to your side and when they heard what you said, their heart broke and for the first time your parents realized they've been doing the wrong thing to you.

"Mother is sorry, please (y/n).. honey" she cried... if your mind is right, you'll choke up for she never calls you sweet names, but you have no recollection of that, "honey please forget that test. Forgive me and dad for being too hard on you. Please my one and only precious daughter... just heal yourself first. You don't have to take the test now. Calm down."

Actually, Jaehyun finally talked to your parents, he talked politely about the way your parents raised both you and Doyoung in a wrong way. No, he didn't blame your parents for wanting the best, he just told them they shouldn't be comparing child and shouldn't put too much force on something one doesn't like. He explained the effect you had growing up like that and your mom was crying when she heard Jaehyun's easy explanation.

"We're sorry... now how do we fix this?" Your mother asked to the young man across him.

"If you let me, this is a new blank page. Like a reset button, though (y/n) might get fragments of the dark memories, but we can at least rewrite the pages and put in more love and joy into her life."

Your parents both agreed and let Jaehyun does his best to fix their mistakes.

So here you are, sitting on your bed for the third month already, mind still somehow fuzzy and you always stare at your room with blank face. You noticed the plain walls and when you arrived at your home, the grand piano greeted you, but you were confused of the big thing.

"Hey (y/n)," Jaehyun greets you when he comes into your room, "Hungry?" He asks first thing first after you wake up.

You nod your head and notice the lack of food on his hand.

"No breakfast?" Your face shows confusion.

Yes you were eating breakfast on bed for one month, mostly because your doctor also told you to not use your legs too much, but Jae saw it is quite the time you learn to walk and eat properly.

"There is, but not here. Come, we will eat properly." Jaehyun helps you stand, and he walks you to the dining table.

There you sit down, eyes empty as you scan the room, still unable to remember where and what is this place.

Your maid comes with a plate of your favorite breakfast. You look at Jaehyun with expecting eyes, he usually sits on the side of your table and feeds you. All you have to do is wait for the food to come into your mouth!

"Jae?" You question him when he picks up his own knife and fork then he digs into his own plate.

You watch him and he speaks up "Copy me."

You pick up the fork and knife, take the detail and switch the position when Jaehyun shows the right way.

He sees you struggle with your knife still and chooses to cut it for you. He returns the plate with small chunks of eggs and sausages then pushes it back to you.

"Now, eat." He continues doing his activity and with trembling hand (because everything is like you learning from basic) and slow but steady you can eat by yourself.

Jaehyun smiles with adoration, he couldn't deny you're actually smart like gifted smart... he thought there was no way someone could live like you and Doyoung if they do not have a bright basic.

"Delicious?" Jaehyun asks after you finish your plate.

You nod "Thank you" and both your eyes and his open wide.

"Did I just say thank you?" You also sound surprised.

Jaehyun nods "I mean i haven't remind you about table manners, but as expected that big brain is not completely blank, I guess."

The day continues with Jaehyun teaching you some more basic knowledge, you sit down on the sofa and your eyes bore into the big grand piano. Jaehyun noticed ever since you came home you seemed super curious about it. He is not the best pianist, but he can play some songs.

"Come, I think you're interested in this." Jaehyun sits you on a chair beside the piano and he takes his seat.

"Okay I am not as good as you, but let's try this. maybe music can bring back my (y/n)." Jaehyun plays some keys to warm up his fingers and he didn't see the sudden surprise you have in your eyes.

Jaehyun plays a simple piece of your favorite sad song, Clair de Lune. He said he wasn't a great player, but here he is confidently playing one song from the master part.

You clap your hands astonished when he finishes half of the song and surprise him with what you say next.

"That is beautiful. Why did you stop?"

Jaehyun wants to scream, music brings you back? Did your brain forget everything else that is painful to you, but not music because it's the only thing you do with love?

"Want to try?" Jaehyun stands up and helps you get comfortable.

Your eyebrow knits together when you first eye the black and white keys and then after placing two hands over them and closing your eyes, as if it's muscle memories your finger expertly play the same piece Jaehyun showed you, but this time you finished the whole song.

Jaehyun has this recorded and if he knew this earlier, he would've made you sit here and play more music. He notes how your eyes glimmer when your fingers still remember the song and for once Jaehyun saw a willing to live in your eyes.

to be continued... (or not if this is not interesting to read :D)

tell me should I continue or not? and make this happy end or sad end?