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stayextrafrosty · 4 years ago

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All That I Want Is to Finally Be Honest

Summary: 3x09 coda. Michael creates a truth serum in an attempt to help Liz get information out of Jones. He has no one to test it on so he injects himself. Well, he doesn’t expect Alex to come visit. And while they’ve been talking about things more, there’s still stuff Michael needs to say.

A/N: When I say this is porn with feelings… I mean that in the most intense way. The emotions come out full force here. Title taken from the song "Back To U" by SLANDER. This was supposed to be done before 3x10 but alas.

Read on AO3 // Masterlist

“I told you, Ortecho. The serum is done but I need to test it. Are you a willing subject?” Michael said as he swirled the liquid in the beaker.

“I told you I’m busy making more of the alien suppressant. Call Isobel. She’s been itching for things to do.” Michael snorted and hung up the phone. He knew she was right. Isobel had been poking her nose into everything Michael and Liz had been working on. She offered to help but there wasn’t a whole lot she could do under the circumstances. But maybe it would be a good idea to put her under oath for a little bit.

He reached for the phone in his pocket, groaning when he saw the ‘no service’ message. This bunker was so hit or miss with it these days. He wished he could send actual thoughts to Isobel as opposed to just feelings over long distances.

Carefully setting the beaker in a holder, he stepped away from the table, wiping the sweat from his palms on his jeans. He climbed up the ladder, pushing the hatch open with his mind. The sun nearly blinded him as cool air whipped around him. He sat himself on the edge of the hole, waiting for his phone to connect again.

As soon as it did, it buzzed a few times as text messages came in. Three separate messages from Isobel spit balling theories and asking if he needed anything from her. He had tried to tell her to get some rest but she was determined to be the one to take Jones down. She had planned a date with some new girl in town but every time Michael asked about it she said there were other things to focus on.

Date.

He and Alex had made plans but of course they got interrupted. By a machine of all things. A machine that made him hallucinate Michael’s mom. Practically throwing every single doubt about them in his mind right back in his face. Alex didn’t want to tell him the full extent of the things she had said. The things he was thinking. Michael understood for the most part. He wasn’t keeping things from him to be cruel. Just the opposite. Alex was trying to protect him. Alex was always protecting him.

Michael sent a quick message back to Isobel about the serum and how he needed help testing it. The phone buzzed again in his hand and he couldn’t help the smile that broke out on his face. He was only thankful Sanders wasn’t around to tease him about it. Alex’s name was at the top of the new message. He tapped the notification to re-open their conversation. He wanted to pretend he didn’t spend the time rereading their conversations since Michael had kissed him. Until then, Michael had thought Alex wasn’t the type to use emojis, but they were being sprinkled throughout more messages.

‘Hope your day is going well’ followed by a blushing smiley face. Michael laughed and shook his head.

‘It would be better if I could see you’ he sent back. He started to climb back down the ladder but his phone buzzed again. He opened the message, being greeted by Alex’s small smile and half lidded eyes as he rested his head on his arm on his desk. He wasn’t fully recovered and Michael could tell. But even with the dark circles, he was still the most beautiful person he had ever seen.

Michael had tried to get him to take a few days off but Alex was insistent. He swore that he would only work on the machine in the way they discussed from now on. And Michael was pretty sure Eduardo was now watching him.

The soft smile still made his heart flutter. This is real. They could casually send pictures of themselves and it wasn’t weird. Michael could see Alex whenever he wanted. And god he loved him. He loved him so much he could jump out of his skin every time he heard his name. There was a twitch in his fingers that told him only to touch Alex. Hold him close and never let go.

“You’re gunna fall if you keep standin’ on the ladder like that!” Michael jumped at Sanders voice. The old man had his eye brow raised and arms crossed as he stood outside of the office trailer.

“Just trying to get some fresh air,” Michael called back as a gust of cold wind whipped through the yard. Sanders shook his head and moved back into the trailer. Michael climbed down the ladder but left the cover off, hoping that would let his phone continue to get service.

He began filling syringes with the serum. His phone buzzed on the table and he briefly glanced at it to see Isobel’s response. She had found something to occupy her time apparently; investigating a lead about where the new alien had disappeared to.

Michael sighed and looked at the needles. He supposed he could just test it on himself. But if it worked properly (which it should) would Sanders really want to listen to all of the stories he had kept secret all this time?

“Guess I don’t have a choice,” he mumbled to himself. Picking up one of the syringes, he watched the green liquid shift. He slipped his flannel off his shoulders, tossing it onto the table. The black t-shirt he wore underneath didn’t do much to keep the cold from the open hatch from sinking in. He pushed a small amount of the serum out of the needle before slipping it into his arm.

“Mad scientists always test on themselves, right?” he asked nobody as he set the empty tube back on the table.

He felt nothing as he walked around the bunker, tapping a pen on the notebook in his hand. Had it really been a bust? Maybe he needed to use more of the powder. He used significantly less than Liz did in her alien killing poison but maybe he needed just a bit more to influence the prefrontal cortex.

He mumbled a curse as he made a note. He didn’t have time to remake this crap a million times. Jones was out there and who knew—

A wave of dizziness washed over him, sending him to his knees. He tried to pull himself up by grabbing the table but the room spun. He missed every attempt to grab the metal edge. Black creeped in at the edge of his vision. He let himself collapse to the floor and he rolled onto his back. Michael fought to keep his eyes open for as long as possible but the promise of sleep was too tempting.

“—rin! Guerin! Come on wake up. Don’t you dare leave me now… Michael!”

Alex’s voice was distant, like he was underwater. There was a feint pressure floating across his upper body, poking and prodding. His head radiated pain but it was slowly fading. He began to feel like he was floating as opposed to the hard surface he had been laying on. But at least feeling was starting to return to his body.

“Michael, please. I’m begging you to open your eyes. Twitch your fingers. Scrunch your nose. Anything.” Alex was louder now, as though coming from right above him. He finally oriented himself enough to recognize that his head was elevated. A trembling hand held his own, obviously trying to stop shaking by squeezing harder. Something wet dripped onto his cheek.

“Damnit, Michael!” Alex choked out a sob. Michael summoned all the energy he could and squeezed his hand. He heard Alex gasp above him and then he was squeezing back. Another hand brushed hair off his forehead and traced down the side of his face. Michael would have shuddered at the feeling of his hands but he still didn’t have much movement in his body.

Instead he swallowed and tried to make some kid of sound. Any word that would sooth Alex. He just ended up with a clipped groan. Still Alex seemed to release a sigh of relief.

“Michael. Can you hear me? Are you ok?” Michael just made another strangled sound and gave a barely there squeeze to his hand. He focused his efforts to opening his eyes instead. He wanted to see Alex.

The dim lights above him still felt too bright and everything was blurry. He could vaguely make out the form of Alex’s head bent over him. He blinked a few times, trying to clear the fog in front of his eyes. As his focus sharpened, he met Alex’s wide eyes. Tear tracks stained his cheeks, and a small smile found its way to his lips.

“I’m ok,” Michael managed to croak out. Then Alex was bending down and pressing a gentle kiss to his mouth. Michael would have responded but he was pulling away too soon.

“Wait… do it again,” Michael mumbled. Alex shook his head.

“Let’s at least get you sitting up.” He groaned as Alex lifted his shoulders and helped him turn so he could lean against the counter. Michael noticed his position on his knees. How long had he been sitting like that with his head in his lap? It was probably uncomfortable at best, painful at worst. He moved sluggishly to grab Alex’s arm and pull him off his knees to a sitting position next to him.

“You don’t have to worry about me so much. But I love that you do.” Michael wanted to correct himself. Take back the second part. It was still too soon.

“What happened? Did someone come hurt you?” The new anger in his voice was barely contained. Michael blew extra air out of his nose in a laugh and shook his head.

“No. I stuck myself with a serum I’ve been working on for Liz. I needed a guinea pig and no other alien was around. I think I used too much of the yellow powder and knocked myself out. No big deal.” He reached over to rest a hand on Alex’s thigh and squeezed gently. “There’s no need to be angry. But the fact that you are makes me love you more.” Stop talking! He was screaming at himself.

Alex sucked in a breath and turned his face away, but Michael caught the blush that overtook his cheeks. He let himself slide to the side, resting his own head on Alex’s shoulder. They sat in silence for a moment and the fog in his head continued to clear.

“What kind of serum was it?” Alex asked quietly.

“Supposed to be a truth serum. The idea was that once we over power Jones, we stick him with it and he tells us all the secrets of the universe. How to swap Max and Jones back into their proper bodies. History of our home planet and the War. Stuff about us.” He knew that this was more information than he was asking for but he couldn’t stop talking. “Did you know I’m immune to fire? That was a hell of a discovery. Spent the better part of a day setting my hand on fire to see if it did anything. Never did. There really was an irony in you telling me that you’d burn the world down for me.”

“Michael…”

“Sure you’d burn the world but did you ever consider I would walk through fire for you? That maybe the world is already burning but it doesn’t matter because I can withstand it all. Just for you.”

Suddenly a hand was covering his mouth and Alex was staring at him so intently Michael thought he might be reading his mind. Tears pricked at the edges of his eyes and his breathing was shaky, as though Michael had overwhelmed him.

“I.. think the serum works,” Alex said quietly. Michael wrapped his fingers around his wrist gently, pulling his hand away from his mouth, but not too far.

“I love you, Alex.” He pulled his hand back to his lips, pressing them to his palm. “And I should have said that to you so much earlier.”

Michael could see the way Alex fought against the smile. He breathed out a half laugh and looked anywhere except him.

“Tell me that when you haven’t drugged yourself,” Alex teased gently.

“Alex, I can’t lie.”

“I know. But I want you to tell me when you’re ready.”

Michael kissed his palm again, then moved his hand slowly down his cheek and placed it on the back of his neck. Alex slipped his fingers into his curls, nails scratching lightly at his head.

“I want to kiss you,” Michael said softly, cupping Alex’s jaw and running his thumbs over his cheeks. He let one go just far enough to press against his bottom lip, pulling it down. Alex’s lips parted as his hand threaded through Michael’s hair tightened.

“You don’t have to ask, you know,” he responded, breathless.

Michael couldn’t help the shudder that ran down his spine. He leaned forward, resting his head against Alex, just breathing in the smell of him. He brushed their lips together and Alex gasped. The small sound sent a thrill through Michael. His heart fluttered and his stomach twisted with nerves.

“I want you,” Michael mumbled.

“You’ve got me. I’m not going anywhere.”

His body trembled as the words warmed every part of his body. Need settled between his legs as he rolled himself to straddle Alex’s thighs. His free hand landed on Michael’s hip as the hand in his hair tugged him closer, brushing their lips against each other again.

Michael hadn’t been this nervous about intimacy in years. This was Alex after all. They communicate with bodies and moans. It’s the way they understand each other. They always fit together so well. Filling in the cracks of each other and making something more beautiful than when they were apart.

Alex was the one who closed the distance between them, capturing Michael’s lips, stoking the fire under his skin. He moaned softly, pressing his hips against Alex.

They had kept their kisses chaste since the night at the Pony, neither wanting to rush into this before they knew where they were going. But Michael had been craving Alex for almost three years. To have him wrapped in his arms as sweat eased the movement of their bodies. He didn’t want to wait anymore. He couldn’t.

Alex tugged on his hair with one hand and his t-shirt with the other. Michael’s hands were moving down to the unbuttoned flannel. He shoved it off his shoulders to expose the white shirt underneath. Alex only released him to chuck the shirt somewhere to the side before he was grabbing at the hem of his shirt and pushing it up.

Michael separated for a moment as he gripped Alex’s shoulders, running his fingers over the collar of his shirt. He felt the cool press of metal and remembered the dog tags Alex had taken to wearing.

His mind wandered to the way they would move against Alex’s chest. The way they would intensify the feeling of Michael’s warm fingers as he traced the chain on his skin. He groaned as he also realized that it was something he couldhave.

Michael kissed Alex again, grinding down against him. He wanted to make sure he knew just how badly he wanted him. Alex shoved his hands under his shirt, fingers splayed over his stomach and then moving to his sides and eventually his back. Alex scratched him lightly as he pulled him closer, encouraging the movement of his hips more.

He shuddered and cursed against his lips. He felt like a teenager again. Like he might come undone without even getting their pants off.

“Wait,” Michael mumbled, breathless. Alex pulled away immediately, looking almost scared that he had done something wrong. Michael smiled warmly at him before crushing their lips together one last time. He only held it for a couple seconds before he was pushing himself off the floor. He grabbed Alex’s hands on the way up, using his telekinesis to help lift him to his feet also. Alex looked around, shocked in a way. Michael was a bit startled too. The pollen was supposed to suppress their powers. Maybe the amount he used was too small to have a real effect. Instead of pointing this out, Michael just chuckled and pushed Alex back against the edge of the counter, head dipping to place wet kisses over his neck.

“Come to my trailer,” he said against his throat. “If I’m going to show you just how much I love you, I’ll at least do it in a proper bed.” Alex’s head fell back as Michael’s mouth moved. But he nodded quickly.

Michael forced himself away from Alex, grabbing his hand and pulling him toward the ladder. He let Alex climb out first, following closely behind. He shut the cover to the bunker with hardly a glance behind him. He flung the trailer door open next and all but shoved Alex inside, though still cautious of his leg.

Not that Alex was any more patient than he was. Alex grabbed him by his shirt, pulling their bodies flush against each other as Michael locked the door with his mind. Michael’s arms wrapped around his waist as their lips came together again. Alex whimpered as his tongue teased his lip. Michael tugged it between his teeth, groaning at the way it made Alex melt against him.

Alex’s hands dragged down his chest to the hem of his shirt again, yanking it up. They only separated for a moment as Michael finished removing the garment. Michael shoved him backwards onto his bed. He smiled down at him and watched hungrily as he rushed to undo the button on his jeans. All of this the same path they had taken three years ago. But it was different now. Neither was going to run away.

Michael crawled onto the bed, settling between Alex’s thighs as he pushed his shirt up and over his head before capturing his mouth again. They sighed against each other’s lips as their skin moved together effortlessly. The cool metal of the dog tags Alex was wearing shocked Michael, but that only made him want to press closer.

Fingers pulled at his hair and then scratched down his back until they reached the top of his jeans. Michael’s mouth fell open in a silent moan as Alex traced the hem around to the belt buckle. He fumbled with the strap for a moment before he yanked it free and immediately popped the button on his jeans.

Michael shifted back to his knees to admire the beautiful man below him. His face was red, lips swollen and wet as he tugged his bottom lip between his teeth. His eyes were half lidded as he ran his fingers over Michael’s abs and tried to pull him back down by the hem of his jeans. As much as he wanted to go with whatever Alex wanted, he wanted to take it slow. The temptation to just throw all their clothing off and get Alex moaning taunted him. But they could do that any time. No. Michael was determined to show him exactly what he thought of him.

He took Alex’s hands in his, threading their fingers together and pressing them down next to his head. Leaning down again, he kissed Alex slowly, only just barely running his tongue over the seem of his lips. A small whine bubbled up from Alex’s throat as his fingers squeezed Michael’s. Michael rubbed his hips against Alex and they both gasped at the friction.

“I need you,” Alex panted out. Michael hushed him gently as he trailed his lips over his jaw to his neck. Alex’s body arched against him as he sucked at his pulse point. Once he was satisfied with the mark, he moved down past his collarbone and hovered over his heart, breathing over the skin before pressing his mouth against him softly.

He slipped his hands out of Alex’s, letting his fingers just ghost over his arms. Michael continued his movement down his body, leaving small, wet kisses in his wake. His hands followed the same path through the hair on his chest as his mouth worked over his stomach to the trail of hair leading down from his belly button.

“I can never come up with the words to tell you how perfect you are,” Michael breathed against his skin. He pressed his forehead against the bottom of Alex’s ribs as he dragged his fingers down to the hem of his jeans. He felt Alex’s hands run through his hair, scratching and tugging. Michael slipped his fingers into the waistband and began pulling the fabric down.

“Michael, wait,” Alex said. He froze and looked up at him, waiting for further instructions. “Let me take off the prosthesis first.” He pushed himself up to his elbows before Michael stopped him.

“If you’ll let me, I can take it off for you.” Alex’s shoulders sagged as a small smile found it’s way to his face. He nodded slowly and took Michael’s hand, pulling it to his mouth to press a couple chaste kisses to his fingers.

Michael slipped to his knees on the floor. He rolled Alex’s pant leg up, exposing the metal and plastic. He worked quickly with Alex watching him, undoing straps and tugging gently. He set the leg to the side carefully, leaning it against the wall.

He looked back up at Alex and hoped that he didn’t blush from the soft look he was getting from him. He rolled the sock off his stump and set it to the side with the prosthesis. He watched Alex through his eye lashes as he pressed kisses to his knee.

Alex gasped softly and pushed himself up completely so he was sitting on the edge of the bed. He took Michael’s face in his hands tenderly, brushing his thumbs over his cheekbones. Michael ran his hands up his legs to his waist and over his stomach. His fingers brushed against the metal of the dog tags when he got to his chest.

He dragged one hand back down to Alex’s hip. The other he let catch on the metal chain. He met Alex’s gaze as their heavy breathing mingled between them. Then Michael tugged on the chain, firmly pulling Alex down toward him.

He pushed himself up at the same time, mouths coming together with a chorus of moans and gasps. Their tongues tasted each other as Michael pushed himself up and Alex back on the bed. Alex’s hands were tangled in his hair, pulling him as close as their bodies would allow.

Michael braced himself with one hand while the other ran down Alex’s body to the waist of his pants again. He grabbed and tugged both the jeans and underwear over his hips. Alex, lifted himself so he could bring them down to his thighs.

He pulled away from Alex to finish removing his clothes, tossing them somewhere to the side. Michael licked his lips as he took in every beautiful inch of him. The firm muscles barely hidden beneath the soft skin. He touched his thighs, the hair tickling his hands. He moved slowly up his thighs and to his hips where his hardness rested between his legs.

Michael avoided touching his cock, instead focusing on massaging everything else around it. He dug his fingers into the soft spot on his hips. Alex rolled toward his touch, sighing blissfully. And he couldn’t help himself, leaning down to press featherlight kisses to the v just below his abs. Alex made a small whimpering sound as he pulled at his own hair.

“So amazing…” Michael mumbled as he continued his line of kisses up over his abs. “Beautiful and strong…” Alex gasped out his name when his hands scratched up his sides and to his arms to hold them above his head. “You were made for me, Alex. I was made to touch you, to kiss you, to live for you, to love you.”

Michael kissed his way back up to his chest, inhaling his scent and hoping that it would be left on his own skin for days. He pressed his tongue over Alex’s nipple briefly before kissing across his chest to the other one. Alex arched his back, pressing his member against Michael’s abs and rubbing. He chuckled.

“Touching you was always the most rewarding part,” he said sweetly before running the tip of his tongue up over his chest and neck and back to his lips. He left only a few centimeters between them as he spoke, “You’re so responsive. I can’t help but want to take you apart.”

“Kiss me, Michael. Now,” Alex ordered. Michael would never deny him anything. Not unless that was the plan. It was about both of them this time. He could play with him in the future. Michael slid his mouth over Alex’s, not being able to stop the smile.

They had a future. And this was only the first of all the ways he would be allowed to love him.

Michael released Alex’s arms and ran his fingers back down his torso to his hips. He pressed the length of his body against him. Alex wrapped his arms around his neck, licking into his mouth and nipping at his lip. Michael moaned softly and rocked his hips against him.

He released Alex to push his own pants and underwear to his knees before kicking them off. He let most of his weight collapse on top of Alex, rolling his hips to rub them against each other. They moaned together as a shudder ran down Michael’s spine.

Alex untangled one of his arms to reach between them. He wrapped his hand around both of them, stroking slowly. Michel groaned into his mouth as his arms started to shake from the effort of holding himself up. He tore himself away from Alex, knowing that if he let this continue, he would finish before even getting inside him. He sat back on his knees, tracing a pattern through the hair on his chest and down to his cock.

He pushed Alex’s hand away from them gently. His panting only increased as Michael took his legs and bent them back slightly. Michael slid down his body so that his mouth hovered over Alex’s now twitching member. Every breath that brushed over him made it jump in anticipation.

He felt Alex’s hand in his hair and looked up at him through his eyelashes. His mouth hung open as his eyes begged for any sort of stimulation. A small bead of precum sat at the tip, threatening to roll down the side.

“You’re so perfect,” Michael said just before taking Alex into his mouth for the first time in years. The salty taste of him was better than he remembered as he slipped most of the way down his shaft. Alex jerked and gasped, tugging on his hair to pull him closer. Michael groaned around him, feeling the way Alex’s fingers tightened again.

Michael rubbed the back of his thighs as he bobbed his head up and down, pushing them open so he could have better access. He let his tongue tease around the head as he slipped further with every down stroke.

“Fuck, Michael,” Alex pleaded. He looked up at him to meet his eyes. He felt the shudder run through Alex’s body as he gasped and twisted his other hand into the sheets on the bed. Then Michael sank down again, taking him to the back of his throat and burying his nose in the short hair at the base.

Alex’s hips jerked up and Michael suppressed his gag reflex by gripping his thighs harder. Alex tugged his already swollen bottom lip between his teeth as his eyes fluttered closed and head fell back. Michael wanted to imprint the image of him blissed out into his brain.

He lifted his head until just the tip with in his mouth before sinking back down in one movement. Alex cried out in pleasure as his fingers pulled on Michael’s hair again. He continued the pattern a few more times before pulling off completely. Alex whined in protest. Michael chuckled and smirked up at him. Then he trailed the tip of his tongue down his length and over his balls, sucking one into his mouth briefly before moving to his ass.

Alex’s back arched again as he tried to press closer to Michael’s tongue. He mumbled something incomprehensible when he started teasing his rim. Michael shifted his hands down to his ass, spreading him open.

“Not… enough…” Alex panted out. Michael nipped at the skin of his ass lightly.

“Just be patient, darlin’,” he said sweetly before pressing a kiss to his skin. Then he pressed his tongue flat against his hole while his thumb pushed just past the rim. Alex’s hips rocked more as small moans slipped from his lips.

Michael worked his thumb in slowly, letting the tip of his tongue slip in alongside it. He pressed against Alex’s walls, urging him open. Alex groaned from above him and grabbed handfuls of his hair, yanking him back up his body to crush their mouths together. Michael didn’t exactly fight hard against it.

He kept his fingers at his hole, slipping his middle finger in and out of him teasingly. Alex bit at his lips and shoved his tongue into his mouth. It stole Michael’s breath away, feeling the desperation he poured into the kiss. He only hoped Alex could feel the same from him. He didn’t get the chance to reciprocate for long because Alex pulled away, instead pressing their foreheads together.

“Tell me you have lube,” he said, voice shaking and breathy.

“Of course.” Michael reached out with his mind to the lowest drawer under the sink. He floated the bottle toward them and dropped it on the bed. “You saying you didn’t like my attentions?” he teased with a smile.

“I liked it too much,” Alex said, brushing their lips together and rocking his hips against Michael’s fingers. “I need to feel you inside me again. To be as close to you as possible. To lose track of where I end and you begin.”

He couldn’t stop the smile that broke out on his face. Michael would do anything for Alex. Bend to his every whim and request.

So he removed his finger from Alex’s hole and instead wrapped his arm around his waist and the other around his back. He pulled him up so he was sitting on his thighs as Michael kneeled on the bed. Alex wrapped his arms around his shoulders, holding him close.

Michael kissed him again, soft and slow. He gripped Alex’s skin, digging his fingers into the muscle. Alex sighed and held him tighter in return. When he was sure he was balanced on his thighs, he reached for the bottle and flicked the cap open. Realizing he was going to need to hands, he pulled his lips away from Alex. There was a small noise of protest that Michael silenced with a quick peck.

“Hold on to me,” he breathed over his lips.

“I wouldn’t dream of letting go.”

He released Alex slowly as their lips slipped over each other again. Michael squeezed a small amount of lube on his fingers. He rubbed it around for a moment before finding Alex’s entrance again. Alex gasped as his fingers prodded the opening.

There was little resistance to the first finger from Michael’s earlier attention. The lube made the second finger slip in just as easily. Alex sighed his name as his hips started rocking slowly. The friction against Michael’s own cock was wholly welcome, making him moan.

Michael twisted and pressed his fingers inside him, looking for the sweet spot he knew would earn him more noises. Alex’s mouth fell open when he finally found it and he could only grin as he swallowed the moan that tumbled from his lips. He massaged his prostate. A few soft strokes followed by a firm press.

Alex’s cock twitched and throbbed against his with every movement. As much as Michael wanted to continue like this until Alex made a mess of them both, he didn’t want to wait anymore. He pulled his fingers out slowly, giving one more teasing press to the spot.

Michael grabbed the lube bottle again, pouring more onto his fingers. He snapped the lid closed and tossed it to the side, hardly registering the sound of it falling to the floor. He carefully shifted Alex back so he could cover his cock in the lube.

Once fully coated, he pulled back to rest his forehead against Alex’s. They both panted as they met each other’s eyes. Michael wrapped an arm around his waist.

“You want this?” he asked a final time. Alex just beamed at him before pulling him back in for a searing kiss.

“Yes. I need you, Michael.”

Michael could only groan in response, claiming his lips again. He lowered Alex back to the bed and he almost immediately wrapped his legs around his waist. With his free hand, Michael guided his cock to Alex’s hole. He pressed himself against the rim, slowly rolling his hips until the tip entered him.

Michael saw stars behind his eyes as he tried to keep his movements slow. The temptation to bury himself in the warmth of Alex was overwhelming. Their moans overlapped as he pushed farther in. He nearly fell forward, needing to brace himself using the arm that had been hold Alex.

“I love you, Michael,” Alex suddenly rushed out. Michael’s eyes opened to meet Alex’s. He had the most beautiful smile he had ever seen on his face. His eyes were half lidded but still completely focused on Michael. “I love you,” he repeated.

His heart soared higher than ever. He never thought he would know this kind of joy. But the man wrapped in his arms was offering it so openly and completely. No extra conditions. Just all the love he could possibly give.

A tear spilled down Michael’s face as he pushed himself completely into Alex. Their mouths fell open and Alex refused to look away from him. He pulled out slightly and pushed in again, this time hearing the moans fall from his own lips.

“God, Alex…” he sighed, letting his head fall to his shoulder as he continued the steady thrusting of his hips.

Michael pressed his lips to his shoulder before sucking on the spot, massaging a mark into his skin. Alex moaned softly as his hips came up to meet Michael’s next thrust. He scratched his nails up and down Michael’s back, distracting him from his rhythm. His hips jerked forward roughly once, making them both gasp at the feeling.

He picked up his rhythm again, moving faster, starting to chase the high that comes with orgasm. Alex clenched around him, moving his own hips in time with Michael. He stopped holding back his moans, instead letting them vibrate over Alex’s skin.

He could feel Alex’s heartbeat from where their chests were pressed together. It pounded just as hard as his own. Possibly threatening to burst from how full of love it was. Alex’s moans were music to his ears. Small plea’s begging for more finally registered in his brain. And he would never deny Alex.

“I’m so close, Michael,” he whined next to his ear. Michael was on the edge too. So he pulled his head from Alex’s shoulder and kissed him again as he sped up his hips again, trying to match the racing of his heartbeat.

He had lost track of his body. He could only feel Alex wrapped around him, fitting perfectly against his skin. Michael ground his hips against Alex’s ass, breaking his even pattern in an effort to feel more of him.

After that he didn’t know what came over him. His hand was pressing to Alex’s chest as his hips only got rougher and more erratic. He could feel the heat rippling out from his hand. Alex cried out and arched against him, one of his own hands moving to cover Michael’s.

“Alex, Alex, Alex,” he panted out.

“Michael!” He felt the spasm of his body against his own, then the warmth of the liquid running between them.

His own orgasm rushed up to him, no time to even consider pulling out. Not that he even wanted to. His hips thrust forward roughly, burying him inside of Alex as his cock emptied. A long moan accompanied each of his last thrusts until he was shaking from the overstimulation.

Michael collapsed against Alex, laying his head against his chest. Alex’s free hand pet his hair gently as their breathing started to even out. Michael dozed and Alex’s occasional snores let him know he wasn’t the only one. It couldn’t have been that long because the mess between them hadn’t dried.

He pulled his eyes open to see his hand placed firmly over Alex’s heart and his hand still covering Michael’s. He lifted his hand slowly and the bright pink, iridescent handprint seemed to ripple with Alex’s breathing.

“You could have warned me how intense it would be,” Alex said quietly, a light and content tone to his voice. Michael pushed himself up slightly to see his face. The sweet smile that always made his heart flutter was back and internally he sighed in relief.

“Had I known it was going to be I would have,” he said, lifting a finger brush over his cheek. “I’m sorry for the handprint. I didn’t—” Alex pulled him in and kissed him, stopping his apology.

“I’m so happy, Michael. About everything. I love you so much,” he said when he pulled away. Michael smiled at him and pressed another kiss to his lips, lingering just slightly when he pulled away.

“I love you, Alex.” Alex held his face gently with a fondness glittering in his eyes.

“I told you to wait until the serum had worn off,” he joked. The fog in his mind had completely vanished though he couldn’t quite remember when. He was still pouring his heart out to Alex but it was because he wanted to. He never wanted to hide anything from him. He never wanted to lie to him.

“It wore off already. I don’t feel the need to say everything I’m thinking,” he said, inching closer to Alex’s lips again. “But I still want to tell you everything. Because right now, all I can think about is you.”

#malex #malex fanfiction #malex fic #roswell new mexico fic #michael guerin/alex manes #michael guerin #alex manes #coda #3x09 coda

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bubblesuga · 5 years ago

Text

off the table.

Summary: Fate has an odd way of playing with your mind. When you leave Min Yoongi on his door step nearly a decade ago, you became positive that you would never find love again. Settling for a man you thought you could learn to love, you had given up on fully moving on. But again, fate likes to play.

W/C: 11,680

Genre: Idol!AU, smut, fluff

Warnings: cussing, smut, mentions of exhibitionism, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, Jimin is curious about Yoongi’s (non-existent) sex life,

A/N: Based loosely off of Off The Table by Ariana Grande if you want a song to listen to as you read :) x

“So, this is it then?”

“Yeah.”

The near migraine-inducing memory always happens to flash in your mind at the worst times possible. Eight years ago, you found yourself standing at the front door of your ex boyfriend’s dorm with a solemn heart as he softly explained what his life was going to turn into. It was a short conversation, one the both of you had seen coming but neither of you wanted to admit it.

As his new friends and new life began to form behind him in the small one bedroom apartment, you nodded, and you left with one last kiss to his rosy lips. His deep brown eyes bore into yours with just as much sadness that you felt before you dragged yourself away helplessly.

Of course, now that you were 3 months into a new relationship, the memory decides to pop it’s way back into your brain as if it had just happened. A soft whisper in your mind gently coaxed you away from your latest fling and disassociated you from the moment entirely. He’s a nice guy, as well. Good head on his shoulders, smart with money, and loves to cook for you. So the sense of guilt you felt was tremendous because despite having this gorgeous man in front of you, your mind always flew back to him.

It has become more and more difficult not to think of him considering the fact that his face is now everywhere. The news, the internet, your fucking cold brew... He was there, the same bright features and adorable nose. You wondered if he thought of you from time to time, how you’re doing or what you could be up to since you graduated university. With as hectic of a schedule that you’re sure he held, you highly doubted that you have been on his mind since the end. Knowing him, he threw himself into his work and hasn’t looked back. It shows in his music, though. You always knew that he would be successful.

“...are you even listening to me?”

The words dragged you out of your trance and you immediately set down your coffee, “What? Of course I am.”

Junwoo couldn’t help but roll his eyes, “What was I talking about then?”

Fuck.

You push your hair back, a habit you developed recently as your desire to try and forget about your ex boyfriend has grown stronger, “I’m sorry, I’ve just had a lot on my mind lately.”

Maybe it hasn’t just been lately. Maybe every single time you feel Junwoo’s lips against yours, you can’t help but compare him to Yoongi. He didn’t need to know that, though.

“Yeah, you use that a lot as your excuse. I’ll try not to bore you with tales from my clients anymore.” Junwoo slides the plate in front of you, a heart shaped kimchi pancake lay flat in the middle of it, and you feel your guilt grow stronger.

“No! I love hearing about them, I- I think I need to see someone about what’s going on in my head.” You explain. You had yet to mention to anyone that you dated Suga of BTS before he was known as such. In fact, you’re pretty sure if you even hinted at it, you’d become the laughing stock of Seoul. It made it impossibly difficult to talk about your feelings with Junwoo. He always tries to pry, but you shut him down completely.

“What’s going on? Is it serious?” concern laces his features and he sits carefully beside you at the table.

“No, I just need someone to talk to.” you try to shake the feeling of discontent when his arm wraps around your shoulder.

He leans his head on yours- “you can always talk to me.” -you shutter.

“A professional, just to help me get back on my game. Regain control of...” you let out a soft sigh and feel Junwoo’s lips brush against your temple, “...myself.”

“_____, I am a literal therapist.”

“A literal therapist who is emotionally involved with me. Isn’t it inappropriate to make out with your patients?” You quirk, raising an eyebrow.

He rolls his eyes again, “Okay. Let me know if you need recommendations. Us in the brain community are pretty tight-knit.” He stands up and runs a hand through your hair before trotting back to the kitchen to begin his own breakfast.

You nibble on the inside of your cheek as you stare down at your pancake, picking up the butter knife beside your plate and dragging it down the center with a grimace on your face.

~*~*~

Even though you spent many years studying medicine, you didn’t think it would involve this much typing. Staring at patient charts has become a normal during your regular work day, especially since you’re boss decided that he didn’t need to look at the charts, he just wanted to hear from you.

You’re a nurse, not a secretary.

Today you were assigned to the emergency room, which was one of your favorite places to be. Everything was much faster than if you happened to be in post-op or general medicine, but the moment you enter the doors, you were piled with paperwork that you were sure a medical assistant could be doing.

The drowning sounds of chatter and machine’s melodic beeping blended with your fingers as they typed name after name, number after number for an hour straight. Just as you thought your soul had completely drained from your body, you hear a tap on the desk.

“H- hi, uh- my friend’s foot got cut open and we think he needs stitches. Is there any way that we could get seen quickly?” You glance up and your eyes immediately go wide.

You remember meeting Namjoon a few times in passing when you were still seeing Yoongi, but he’s much taller than you remember. Instantly you feel your face go red, and you were frozen in place. Why the hell was Namjoon here? How did he manage to choose this hospital of all the ones in Seoul?

You happen to tear your eyes away from him for a second, glancing over and seeing Jungkook being held up by Jimin as his foot stays elevated in the air. The minute you see a t-shirt wrapped tightly around Jungkook’s foot, you move to action.

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that! Let me get you a wheelchair,” you swing around the desk and grab one of the folded up wheelchairs and roll it towards Jungkook. He grimaces as he sits down, his foot crossed onto the opposite knee. Jimin seems relieved not to have his friend leaning on him anymore, and you pause for a second to assess the situation.

“Jenni! Do we have an open bed anywhere?” You grab your co worker who walks passed you with her hands filled with bandages.

“Back corner, we just cleaned it.” She calls back, walking without glancing at the people you’re trying to help.

You nod, immediately walking Jungkook towards the back and gesturing for Namjoon and Jimin to follow. You grab an empty chart as you walk, before opening the curtain for the bed and allowing the three men to slide into the area.

“I hate to be pushy but this really hurts.” Jungkook hisses as wrap your arm beneath his and slowly lift him towards the bed. Immediately, you slip gloves onto your hands and begin to unwrap the t-shirt. There’s quite a bit of blood, but not enough to have you worried that he hit an artery.

Namjoon bites his lip before speaking, “I should have watched the stage better. I’m sorry.”

Jungkook shrugs, wincing while he attempts to pull himself up higher, “It was hard to see. Not your fault, or anyone else’s.”

“Except for the person who broke the stage.” Namjoon quips, rubbing his hands over his face, frustrated.

“It’s fine, hyung. The pretty nurse is going to fix Kookie right up.” Jimin is quick to comfort both of his friends while simultaneously causing you to blush.

It’s then that you notice the three of them in clothes similar to their rehearsal getup from all those years ago. Sweat lines each of their foreheads and you wonder just how this whole thing happened.

After inspecting the wound, you whip towards the suture kit, “It is deep enough to require stitches. I’m going to call the doctor down and have her suture you up. Until then would you like me to numb the pain?” Even though you’re well aware who these men are, and how close you potentially are to your ex boyfriend, you can’t help but let your professional prowess overpower your incessant need to think of Yoongi.

Jungkook nods, “At this point I’ll take a shot of whiskey and something to knock me out.”

You smile, “Unfortunately there isn’t any whiskey here. Believe me, I’ve been searching since I got here.”

Namjoon chuckles from beside you as you put your finger up to let them know you’ll be right back. Pulling open the curtain, you meander over to the nurse’s station and pick up the phone to call the ER doctor down. As you wait for him, you grab all the supplies to clean Jungkook’s foot, including a Lidocaine injection. Before you get the chance to turn back around, you hear the ER doors burst open and see four sweaty men tearing their way into the hospital.

Four sweaty men, including Min Yoongi.

An uncharacteristic whimper leaves your lips as you spot the rest of the members, all rushing passed you when they see Namjoon stick his head out of the curtains.

You feel all the blood drain from your face when the familiarity of Yoongi’s presence passes by you. Jenni notices your panic from the other side of the nurse’s station and lets out a little giggle, “Come on, you can’t get all shy just because they’re BTS. You have a job to do.”

“I can’t go in there now, Jenni. You have to take over.” You turn back to her with wild eyes, desperately trying to hand her all the supplies you gathered. Your eyes continuously glance backwards, watching them pile in. Yoongi can’t see you, you won’t be able to look the man in the eyes. You can’t even begin to think about the embarrassment you will feel if Yoongi sees you.

Jenni only laughs, “You’re a professional. Dr. Gwan will be down soon so you only have to be with them for a few moments.”

In a last ditch effort, you call out to her as she walks towards another patient.

Okay. You’re panicking now.

The universe has to be playing some sort of sick game on you right about now. You have not been able to get that stupid man off your mind lately and now here he was in your emergency room. First he’s worried about his brother but now he’s going to see you and want to chat and catch up. Knowing him, he’ll ask you for coffee and you’ll probably learn of his girlfriend or possible wife. He’ll wonder why you’re not married yet, and you’ll have to hide the fact that you haven’t been able to properly move on because of him.

That’s only to say if he even remembers you.

Taking a deep breath, you swallow your anxiety and enter the curtain.

“Alright, Jungkook. Do you have any allergies that I should know about before I inject you with my magic numbing liquid?” It’s much more cramped in the room than it was before. The 6 members crowd to one side of the bed while you stand on the other. You refuse to look up for fear that Yoongi is going to recognize you.

“No allergies.” Jungkook shakes his head.

“Good, good,” you lean forward, elevating Jungkook’s foot and removing the make shift bandage, “you’re gonna feel a slight pinch.”

“He’s not going to lose his foot or anything, right?” A voice asks. You recognize it as Taehyung’s.

“No,” you’re sure they can sense how rigid you are, “he’s not going to be able to dance for a little bit, but he’ll be back and better than ever in no time.” No one responds, and you finally make eye contact with Jungkook, “Are you ready?”

Again, he nods, and you slowly push the needle into his foot. He cringes enough to jerk his upper body slightly, but Jimin is at his side just as quickly as it started.

You dispose of the needle immediately afterwards, wrapping his foot up to keep pressure applied to the wound, “Okay, Dr. Gwan will be here soon. She’ll get you sutured up and I’ll be back later to check on you.”

“Thank you, miss. It already feels better.” He sighs happily, relaxing backwards onto the pillow.

You grin, momentarily forgetting that your ex boyfriend is 3 feet away, “Of course, Jungkook. That’s my job.”

It’s then that you catch Yoongi’s eye for the first time that night. It’s not to say he didn’t recognize you before, but he wasn’t able to say anything once he saw you working. He was deathly still, the rest of the day leaving his mind when your shiny eyes met his. He sees you swallow, and you walk out without saying anything else.

“That was _____.” Yoongi murmurs after a moment, staring at the swaying curtains where you once exited.

The chatter stops instantly, and everyone turns to Yoongi.

“The _____?” Hoseok questions, his eyes wide while he also turns to watch the curtains.

Yoongi nods, his throat going dry as memories of you sleeping beside him at night when he had nothing to his name wash over him. You, with the exception of his brother, were the only person supporting him when he said he wanted a career in music. You applied to universities in Seoul so you could be closer to his dream, you were always so excited to hear his new music and you always told him that he was going to make it big.

It’s not like Yoongi hadn’t thought of you since you broke up. He was a complete mess for months afterwards. His schedule solely consisted of working and rehearsing because he couldn’t bare to have a moment to himself.

Yoongi repeatedly beat himself up for the way he ended things and more specifically, the reason he ended things. After getting into BigHit, Yoongi realized he was seeing less and less of you. You were so busy with med school and he was so busy with rehearsals that you were lucky to see each other once a week. He knew you’d be better off finding someone who could be there for you, and that it was best for him to focus on his career.

He just wasn’t aware of how much that would kill him inside.

“Well what are you doing here? Aren’t you going to go talk to her?” Seokjin pushes. There are times when Yoongi has to remind himself that he isn’t the oldest in the group, and that usually comes when Seokjin takes his role as older brother very seriously.

Yoongi scoffs at the taller man, “What do you want me to say? ‘Hey I know it’s been 8 years but lets meet up for coffee and pretend like we didn’t break each other’s hearts’?” he takes a moment to collect his thoughts, “Besides, Jungkook needs us here while he gets his foot stabbed.”

“Oh no, hyung,” Jungkook laughs, “I’m doing juuuust fine. You go talk to the pretty nurse.”

Yoongi swallows, “What should I say?”

Namjoon shrugs, “Whatever comes to mind.”

Yoongi’s feet carry him out of the curtained off area, his eyes searching across the emergency room in an attempt to find you. He spots you at the desk by the front door, and with a nervous head tilt, he’s dragging himself towards you.

The moment you left Jungkook, you threw yourself back into paperwork and became so immersed that you didn’t hear anything going on around you. Except for the soft footsteps pattering up to your station, which causes you to tear your eyes away from the chicken scratch handwriting on the chart in front of you.

It’s silent for a beat, you can feel the heat rising to your ears as you look up at him. His hair is longer, different from the short style he’d gel up every morning before the break up. There’s more piercings on his ears, but at the core of the new flashy clothes and dyed hair, he’s still the same man who professed his love for you at 17 years old.

“Hi.” he whispers.

“...hi.” you respond, your hands still frozen over the keyboard as Yoongi fiddles with his fingers on top of the desk.

“Thank you for helping-” Yoongi is cut off by another Nurse calling you over from a different bed in the emergency room.

You give him a quick glance, “I’m sorry, duty calls.”

Yoongi couldn’t help but feel his heartbeat quicken when you stand. He had a better look at the pink scrubs donned on your body, and the smile on his face was nearly uncontrollable when he realizes that you made it exactly where you wanted to be. Your dreams of helping people has now become a reality.

You’re truly in your element, and Yoongi can tell. The concern on your face as you help a little girl sat in the center of a bed way too big for her was a sure fire way to know that you were in the right place.

So, Yoongi doesn’t push a conversation. Instead, he walks back to his band mates and watches in awe as Dr. Gwan stitches up Jungkook’s foot.

~*~*~

“He walked away.”

“He walked away?!”

“He. Walked. Away.” You emphasize to Jenni, holding your hands to your face while you let out a groan.

“Okay, so let me get this straight,” she sets down her iced americano, the chatter of the hospital cafeteria drowned out by your conversation, “you dated Suga from BTS before he was famous, and he broke up with you because you were both leading different lives?”

You nod.

She continues, “and you see him in person for the first time in 8 years, and you don’t talk to him?!”

“Wait why are you yelling at me?!”

“Because, dummy,” she leans over the table and flicks your forehead, “he’s been on your mind a lot lately and suddenly he’s at your job! It’s not a coincidence.”

It’s only been about a week since you saw Yoongi, and of course your attempts to get him out of your mind has been fruitless.

“What am I meant to do? Drop everything and run to him?” You ask incredulously, angrily digging your spoon in your yogurt.

Jenni waves her hand haphazardly, “No, no. You catch up with him, see how he’s doing now that he’s a world famous rapper- oh my god, _____ you let go of him?! You didn’t fight for him?!”

“You said you weren’t going to judge me!”

“That was before I learned exactly what you did! Dumb girl,” Jenni shakes her head disapprovingly, “and you’ve settled for Mr. Brainiac instead.”

Jenni isn’t the biggest fan of Junwoo.

“Mr. Brainiac is nice and sweet and knows how to treat me right,” You explain quietly, the fruit in your yogurt seemingly tasteless on your tongue, “but...”

“But he’s not Yoongi?” Jenni tilts her head.

“I don’t think anyone can ever compare to Yoongi. I’m sure it’s unrequited at this point.” As much as you hate to admit it, that’s the part that broke your heart the most about seeing Yoongi. The fact that you couldn’t bare to look at him for more than a second, because it just wasn’t the same as before. It will never been the same as before.

Jenni shrugs, “you won’t know until you find out.”

“And I’m supposed to... what? Show up at his house?”

Jenni’s eyes seem to trail behind you, and a grin on her face, “When is Jungkook supposed to get his sutures removed?”

Confused, you raise an eyebrow and turn around in your chair to see none other than the man of the hour, Min Yoongi. Instead of being dressed in rehearsal clothes like the other day, Yoongi wears all black with a silver bag wrapped around his torso.

You whip back around and glare at Jenni, “I swear to god if you call him-”

“Suga!” Jenni calls out before you can finish your sentence. Your head falls into your hands with another frustrated moan. Jenni waves her hand to him, Yoongi watching warily before he spots that you’re sat right across from her.

He hesitates for a moment, noticing the way you drag knees to your chest which is a nervous tick you have had since before Yoongi had met you. However, he realizes that if he ever wants to talk to you, now would be the best time. Having followed Jungkook to the hospital for the sole purpose of possibly bumping into you, he had to make due with any interaction he could get.

Jenni gets up and leaves as Yoongi walks his way over to you. Your head is now buried in your knees, but you hear the chair screech across from you.

“Hi again.”

You lift your head up, “Hi, Suga. How is life?”

You can see hurt flash through Yoongi’s face at your use of his stage name, but he shakes it off, “Life is going pretty well. How about yours?”

“It’s going well.”

You still haven’t made direct eye contact with him. Despite having not seen you in person in so many years, his heart ached in his chest at the thought that you may still be hurt. Who is he kidding, though? He’s still hurt by the decision himself.

With a sigh, he scoots his chair forward, “Are we going to pretend that there isn’t a history behind us?”

You laugh bitterly, “Haven’t you been doing a pretty good job of that for the passed eight years?”

Yoongi’s jaw drops. You don’t remember Yoongi ever showing his emotions so freely on his face. That was one of the good things from the interviews you have seen, those 6 boys have opened up Yoongi more and more to his emotions. You feel bad for your response, but you’re unsure how to apologize.

“I didn’t want to end things just much as you didn’t,” He bites, ignoring the tinge in his heart, “I want to catch up. It’s nice seeing you again.”

“I have a boyfriend.” You say, your yogurt seeming much more interesting than it was moments before.

He clears his throat, “That’s okay.”

“Because I had to move on.”

“That’s okay.” He repeats, his fingertips drumming along the table top. He hasn’t been chewing his nails lately. That’s good for him. Though, the nervous habit has developed into something different, the drumming of his finger tips echoing more and more in your head as the awkward silence mulls on. Even in a loud cafeteria, your mind only focused on him.

With out thinking much of it, you reach your hand forward and place it on top of his to get the drumming to stop. Yoongi looks up at you while you hold your hand atop of his. For a moment, the silence continues as you stare into his deep brown eyes. You’re transported back to your late teens, where you felt as though you were on top of the world with Min Yoongi by your side. He stared at you as if you were his entire universe, spending night after night cuddled up together, talking about your dreams and aspirations while simultaneously chasing them together.

Well, it used to be together, but instead you had to push yourself through your dreams alone.

Yoongi’s the first to break the silence, letting a dry chuckle fall effortlessly from his lips while he stares down at your touching hands, “You used to do the same thing if you saw me biting my nails.”

Even though you want to be mad, you wand to walk away and never speak to him again, you can’t. Instead, you nibble on your lip in an attempt to stifle your giggle. Yoongi notices and realizes he’s making good headway into conversation.

“You told me to help you stop, the only thing that seemed to get you to stop was-”

“Your touch?” Yoongi suggests, a teasing gummy grin on his face.

“Yeah,” you finally let out a laugh, “my touch distracted you from a lot of things.”

The people in the cafeteria didn’t seem to be bothered by the two of you in the center of the room. Busy doctors and nurses trying to get their lunch in, loved ones of patients desperately waiting to hear if their surgeries went well, all is forgotten as you fall into the same pit you found yourself in many years ago. Bottomless, but bright. Visions of the future dancing along you as you fall deeper and deeper. Although now, it seems to be visions of what could have been.

“Of course it did, how could I focus when I had your pretty face in front of me?” Yoongi’s tone is still teasing, but melancholy wades through his words.

You slip your hand away hesitantly, and Yoongi’s wrist twitches at the sudden loss of contact. “That’s the reason it ended, isn’t it?”

This is a conversation that Yoongi is not ready for, but at this point he’ll take anything he can get with you, “What do you mean?”

“You broke up with me because you knew I’d distract you from your dream.”

He brings the hand you once held upward, scorching skin touching the back of his neck nervously as he takes a deep breath, “I’d be lying if I said that didn’t play a part.”

You inhale and drop your legs from the edge of your chair before leaning forward. After years of questioning whether or not you would ever move on, you finally have the chance to get some closure. “What was the final straw?”

He bites his lip, “I was able to fall asleep without you.”

You didn’t think you’d be able to feel your heart sink as deep as it has. Even after all these years, your emotions are bubbling to the surface. How can something so simple break your heart so badly?

“You were in school during the day and I was training at night,” he continues, “we never saw each other and I struggled for so long to fall asleep without you next to me. Then... one day my head hit the pillow and I fell asleep immediately.”

Another knife to your chest.

“Did you struggle at all? After the break up, I mean.” You try to search for some sense of regret in his eyes but he’s always been very good at putting up a wall and having people fight for a way in.

He laughs bitterly, “Of course I struggled. Are you kidding me? I thought I was going to marry you, have kids with you. I was nearly inconsolable once it really set in that you weren’t going to be with me anymore.”

You swallow anxiously, “But it was really for the best, yeah? You’ve got your career and I’ve got mine. We’re both successful. Given, you’re entirely more successful than I am but I’m happy with where I’m at.”

“Don’t say that,” Yoongi breaths, “you worked your ass off to get to where you are, you’re just as successful as I am.”

“You think we wouldn’t have got to where we are if we stayed together.” It’s more of a statement than a question, but Yoongi seems to ponder on his answer.

“I think we were young and didn’t know much about life. It was a shitty time for both of us, but I did and still do think that in some aspect of the word, you are my soulmate.”

Your breath hitches at the word.

Beyond already having thought this yourself, the realization that Yoongi thinks it as well causes your chest to flush with heat. The adoration you felt years ago when Yoongi’s hair was always styled neatly in a mohawk and you had no clue how to use eyeliner still rests itself neatly at the bottom of your heart. Hearing Yoongi even say the word ‘soulmate’ nearly reduced you to a puddle of tears.

Yoongi notices that you haven’t let out a breath, “Fuck,” he’s panicking, running his hand anxiously through his hair, “fuck. I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to freak you out, I- I-” He cuts himself off and allows his head to fall into his hands.

A moment passes, and he seems to gather himself once he hears you exhale, “I haven’t stopped thinking about you since I saw you last. I dreamed about what I wanted to say to you and insisted on being the one to drive Jungkook to the hospital today with just the hope and slightest chance that I might run into you.”

“What’s your plan here, then?”

“I want to be friends.” He proposes.

You scoff, “Do you have time for friends now?”

He sighs, expecting the reply but still feeling his chest tighten, “Let’s hang out on a day where the two of us have nothing going on. When are you off next?”

“I have a boyfriend.” You reiterate, raising an eyebrow.

“Not a date,” he dismisses you, “just as friends. When are you off next?”

Crossing your arms, you eye him suspiciously as he widens his eyes in an attempt to push you towards an answer.

“Saturday.”

“Great,” he breathes, “I’ll make sure I’m free that day too.”

~*~*~

Maybe you are taking a bit too much time getting ready for a man who has already seen you at your worst. Maybe you purposely wore purple lipstick in an attempt to show that you have been paying attention to his career and maybe, just maybe, you are way too happy to be hanging out with Min Yoongi once again.

That doesn’t take away from your nervousness, though. Your hand shakes as you finish applying your mascara. You don’t live in a nice mansion like Yoongi does, and you’re terrified that someone will spot him picking you up from your apartment and all hell will break loose. You’ve read some of the tabloids involving anyone close to the group, so your anxiety is nearly palpable.

“Get a grip,” you whisper to yourself, “you’ve seen this man naked before. There’s no need to be nervous.”

As you finish your make up, you move on to your hair but stop once you hear a knock on your door.

Yoongi isn’t supposed to be here for another half hour.

“Fuck.” you whisper, standing quickly from your vanity mirror and rushing towards the front door in a panic. You peep through the lens in the door, confusion striking you when you spot Junwoo.

The lock turns loudly and you slide open the door, “Hi?”

His eyes raise from the ground until he meets yours, “You’re awfully dressed up just to be hanging at home.”

“I have plans.” You state, slipping your undone hair behind your ear. You couldn’t help but notice the instant meekness you felt take over your body the moment you saw Junwoo.

“With me?” He questions, stepping into your apartment. His black hair is pushed back with way too much gel to be comfortable, the honey brown eyes that usually comforted you suddenly made you feel uneasy.

You shake your head in response, “An old friend. He and I are-”

“He?” Junwoo cuts you off, much louder than he was moments before. You take a step back at the sudden change of tone, your jaw nearly dropping at his audacity.

“Yes, he. Is that a problem?” It was probably in your best interest not to challenge Junwoo. If there is anything you learned in your short time together it’s that he was very good at manipulating your words. He claims it’s his way of reading deeper into the situation but you think your intentions are pretty surface-level.

Junwoo didn’t seem to expect your attitude, backing down immediately with a nervous scratch to the back of his neck. “Well, I don’t know how I feel about you hanging out with another guy.”

A scoff leaves your mouth as you scan Junwoo’s posture change, “Are you one of those people who assumes men and women can’t be platonic friends?”

“Yes.”

Well, at least he’s honest.

You roll your eyes, “I can assure you that he’s just a friend.”

A friend who you have a long, egregious history with. A friend who’s lips have touched every inch of your body, has seen you break down over text books and has kissed away your tears when you were beginning to reach adulthood.

But yeah, a friend nonetheless.

“Are you still going to hang out with him if I tell you I’m uncomfortable with it?” Junwoo presses, puffing out his chest.

“I don’t feel like you have the right to tell me who I can and can’t be friends with,” you furrow your brows, “why are you even here?”

“I wanted to take you to the park, but that’s not important. Were you going to tell me that you were going out with a guy?” Man, Junwoo’s ability to annoy the fuck out of you has seemingly grown beyond a point of retribution in the short 10 minutes he’s been in front of you.

As you open your mouth to respond, another knock sounds on the door. You let out a small groan, reaching towards the doorknob and turning it swiftly. On the other side is Yoongi, a striped black and white button down unbuttoned on his torso with a white t-shirt underneath. He’s certainly gotten a better fashion sense.

“Hi, Yoongi. I’m almost ready,” you send a glare in Junwoo’s direction, “I have to finish my hair and I’ll be ready.”

Junwoo is staring wide-eyed at Yoongi with his jaw dropped. Yoongi looks back at him and subtly crinkles his nose, just enough for you to spot it.

After a moment, you break the silence, “Yoongi, this is Junwoo. Junwoo,” you gesture to Yoongi, “Suga of BTS.”

Yoongi lets out a laugh, “Stop introducing me like that to people.”

“That is your name, isn’t it?” You tease, spinning the black hat on his head backwards. “Anyway, are you heading out, Junwoo?”

“You didn’t tell me that it was Suga you were hanging out with.” Junwoo speaks accusingly, making you realize that you truly didn’t make any progress throughout your entire conversation.

“He’s an old friend,” you explain, “I’ll call you later.”

Junwoo opens his mouth but closes it again. You know it’s more than likely because he didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of someone so influential. Junwoo cared too much about his image to do anything to disrupt it. One bad word from Yoongi and he was done for.

Silently, he steps out of your apartment but doesn’t hesitate on slamming the door shut.

Yoongi glances at you and points to the door, “Him?”

“I never claimed to make good decisions.” You sigh, causing Yoongi to giggle. “Anyway, let me finish my hair. Help yourself to anything here.”

“Yes ma’am.”

You hesitate for a moment before deciding that you didn’t have anything in particular that Yoongi could accidentally get his hands on that would be embarrassing.

As you walk out of the room, Yoongi runs his fingers along the picture frames on your wall. He remembers these pictures previously sitting on your desk in your parents’ house. Now they were lined perfectly across the off-white painted wall in your living room, images of your family and close friends filling the black painted frames.

He smiles at the picture of your mother, you’re an exact replica of her. One of the first things he struggled with beyond not seeing you anymore was the fact that he wouldn’t see your family. Despite your relationship being short lived in the beginning, he had grown very close to your family in the process. After the break up, your mother called Yoongi repeatedly asking if he needed food and clothes. He knows that you gained your big heart from her, and he wishes that he can speak with her again.

Moving on, he spots the familiar picture of you leaning against a bookshelf with Le Fleurs Du Mal by Charles Baudelaire gripped loosely in your hands. He remembers that picture from the end of high school, you insisted on stopping by the local Daegu city library one last time before you both moved to Seoul. Yoongi snapped the picture as an opportunity to remember your hometown, because he was sure the two of you would never be back there again. You would stay together and conquer the world, but unfortunately that never happened.

Yoongi can’t help but run his fingers along the side of your face, your smile hiding behind the book. Yoongi’s reflection can be seen in the window behind you, his grin just as wide as yours.

You were in love, and Yoongi misses that.

Of course now it’s not like he can do anything about that. You have a boyfriend who is clearly very loving and trusting in you.

Yoongi wasn’t necessarily sure what his plan was when he was searching for you in the hospital, nor was he sure what his plan is now that he has you within arms reach of him. Namjoon was sure to tell him how stupid he was for even attempting to get involved with you again even though you have a boyfriend but Yoongi didn’t care. So long as you were in his life somehow, he was willing to make it work. Friends, maybe more. He wasn’t sure, but he wanted whatever he could get.

He did...okay for a few years without you. He dated on and off but never really developed a connection with anyone the way he had you. He couldn’t help but compare everyone who came into his life to you no matter how hard he tried not to. It’s laughable at best, because deep down in his mind he’s well aware that nobody will ever compare to you.

“Okay, I’m ready.”

Yoongi tears his eyes away from the picture and instantaneously rakes his eyes up and down your body, “Whoa.”

Dressed in a simple leggings and plaid button down combination, it accentuates your curves and causes Yoongi’s mouth to water.

You let out an embarrassed giggle, “I, uh- I wasn’t sure what we were doing to I tried to dress casually.”

Yoongi doesn’t stop his eyes from staring at your hips, “It works. Everything about you, works.”

“Careful now.” You warn jokingly, putting a hand out in an attempt to pause his thoughts.

Yoongi shakes his head, “Okay, I have a reservation ready for us.”

You lead him out your door and to the car park, “You better not be taking me to some expensive restaurant because I won’t hesitate to kill you.”

“Nah,” Yoongi shakes his head, opening the passenger side door for you, “but if you still love chicken then I may have found the greatest restaurant in existence.”

Slipping into his car, you wait to respond until he moves over to the drivers side and turns the car on. “You remember that I love chicken?”

He smiles, gummy and bright just like before, “I remember everything about you.”

You ignore the flutter in your heart at his words, and sit silently beside him while the radio plays softly from his speakers. The car is far nicer than the one he used to have, and the seats have a warmer that Yoongi seemed to know the perfect temperature of. As he continues to drive on, you try not to watch the way his left hand grips the steering wheel and his right sits idly on his thigh.

8 years ago, that hand would have been resting on your thigh, fingertips brushing the inner part of your softest flesh while you leaned your head back listened to the melodic tunes of whatever song he made most recently. A few of those tunes have been turned into BTS songs, and you still felt beyond proud of him.

“Okay, we have to go around the back and through the kitchen. I just don’t want to risk-”

“Yeah, yeah,” you cut him off, waving your hand dismissively, “you’re hot shot famous guy now. Don’t want to risk getting seen with a lady.”

Yoongi chuckles, “I may be some hot shot famous guy but I’m still the same person I was a decade ago.”

You watch as he turns the car off, “Prove it.”

“What?” He laughs in disbelief.

“Prove that you’re the same person you were all those years ago.” You push, tongue in cheek while you smirk at the man beside you. He seems to ponder for a moment, puckering his lips in thought before he exits the car and runs over to your side of the car.

“Come on,” he gestures for you to get up, “hurry up.”

“Hold your horses, Mister.” you adjust the bag around your torso as you stand and let your eyes fall back to Yoongi. His back is to you and his knees are bent. Hands reach backwards for you and he turns to look at you expectantly.

Tilting your head, you smile as you hop onto Yoongi’s back. A move he’d do regularly when you’d spend hours on your feet interning at various hospitals around the city. His large hands gripped the back of your thighs and you let out a squeal as he hikes you up until your legs are wrapped around his waist.

It takes a moment for him to steady his walk as he leads you carefully up to the back door. You lean upward and knock on the back door labeled “staff only” and wait patiently as you feel Yoongi adjust you again.

“You used to carry me around like this all the time.” You grin, wrapping your arms around his neck in a hug. It didn’t feel weird hugging him like this. Natural instincts kicked in and the whiff of his cologne had you reeling. It’s exactly the same as he wore before, and his hair smelled of coconut conditioner. Before you would turn his head and kiss his lips every time you caught his scent, and it’s taking everything in you right now not to do exactly that.

“I did,” you can hear the smile in Yoongi’s voice, “and you never reciprocated.”

“I’ll give you a piggy back on the way out, how about that?” You pat the top of his head as the door opens to reveal a very confused looking employee.

A sheepish smile is held on Yoongi’s face while the employee realizes who he is. “Mr. Min,” he bows his head, “lovely to have you again. We have your usual table set up in the back.”

“Awesome,” Yoongi drawls sweetly, “lead the way!”

Heat fills your face as the kitchen staff of the unnamed restaurant watch curiously while Yoongi walks you to the table.

He doesn’t allow you to get off, instead he turns around and drops you onto the booth seat as you try to silence the squeal that leaves your mouth. Yoongi only laughs as he flips back around to see the top half of your body slip between the table and the seat. He’s quick to help you up but his arms grow weak from laughing so he takes a few moments to pull you back up. You couldn’t help but laugh as well, the ridiculousness of the situation bringing back memories.

“I’m sorry,” he says, inhaling another laugh as he slips into the seat opposite of you, “I didn’t think you would fall.”

You adjust the hat on your head, “It’s fine, I didn’t need my equilibrium to work properly anyway.”

Yoongi can’t help but watch you carefully as you open the menu. Your nose still crinkled when you came across a dish you may not particularly like, and your eyes widened whenever you saw something that you thought looked good.

Both of you decided on a beer to drink and various flavors of dry rub wings to enjoy. As you waited on your food to be cooked, you sip your beer and suck your teeth while you decide whether or not you want to ask him all your dying questions.

Deciding to start small, you took a deep breath as Yoongi met your eyes, “How much did they have to fight you to get you to start dancing?”

He let out a sigh of relief, half expecting the awkwardness of your history together to take over, “I almost quit like four times, I won’t lie.”

You giggle, “I figured. You do well, though. I was amazed by your Seesaw performance when you started dancing on your own up there. Genuinely was the last thing I expected.

Yoongi doesn’t respond, he only smiles widely with his head rested gently on his hand. You tilt your head as his eyes scan yours, “What?” You couldn’t help but feel embarrassed, wanting the world to swallow you up at the thought that you could have come across as weird or creepy by knowing so much about Yoongi’s career.

“You watch my performances?” He questions, his smile not dropping. A hint of pink brushes the tip of his nose.

“Of course,” you say almost incredulously, “you’re everywhere. It’s hard not to.”

“What’s your favorite song?” Yoongi presses, leaning forward to show you’ve piqued his interest.

Okay, there’s no way you’re going to let him think he has some sort of head over you.

“Cypher part 3.” you say confidently.

“Oh?”

“Mhm,” you hum, nibbling on the bottom of your lip for a moment before deciding to say why it was your favorite, “specifically the part where you say you’re a starfish feeding off the envy of others.”

“Ah, yes. Truly a fan favorite. You should hear the cheers when I explain what my tongue can do.” Yoongi whispers the latter half of his sentence, causing your throat to go dry. His tongue is skillful in many ways, not just rapping, and you were well aware of that. Decadence rested on the tip of his tongue, and you’d like to think that you contributed to his *ahem* practice.

He pulls away with a cheeky grin just as the waiter comes by with steaming plates of food.

The affect that his words had on you still amazes you to this day. Maybe he does have a head above you, and maybe you’re okay with that.

The rest of the dinner goes by with a breeze, the two of you laughing over drinks and trying each other’s food. It didn’t take long for you to fall into a comfortable fit with Yoongi, even though so much time had passed. It was like he never left, and he truly is still the same person he was before. He laughs the same, his shoulders shakes and his grin is always huge. Although his hair style changes and his fashion sense has gotten better, you still see the old Yoongi poking out whenever he laughed particularly hard.

Being face to face with him has allowed you to compare to the younger him, though. His face has slimmed and his voice has gotten deeper, the adam’s apple you kiss at night was larger than before and his neck was longer. Despite all that, he was still the same. Fame hadn’t changed him a bit.

The moment the check comes you snatch it up quickly.

“_____.” the way Yoongi says your name shoots a chill down your spine, but you ignore it when you slip your cash into the designated sleeve.

“Yoongi.” You mock, handing the sleeve back to the waitress who seems scared of Yoongi’s deep tone.

“I was supposed to pay.” He pouts, leaning back in the booth and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Be faster then.” You grin, standing up and crouching in front of Yoongi’s side.

He laughs, remembering your promise from earlier and slipping onto your back. The path you to through the kitchen is a bit less crowded now, but you felt the same amount of eyes on you the entire time. You felt much less embarrassed about it now, though, because Yoongi had a way of calming you down even at your worst points.

“The night is still young,” Yoongi speaks as he slips off of your back and unlocks his car, “would you like to revisit Yongsan Park?”

“Always.”

It wasn’t a far drive from the restaurant, and it was spent mostly talking about music and the new album that Yoongi was extremely proud of. Of course you had already listened to it but you didn’t want to take away from his excitement of showing you some of the songs.

When you made it to the park, the lights lining the jogging path were already on. You hadn’t expected it to be so dark yet but fall time always had a habit of sneaking up on you.

There was an intense rush of nostalgia associated with this park for the both of you. Nights where the two of you huddled close under the stars were spent here, right beneath the biggest tree in the park. It was unspoken that that was your spot, and you hadn’t been to it since you broke up.

Yet, muscle memory kicks in and both of your legs carry you right to the tree.

“Isn’t it funny how we spent so many nights here?” You bring up as you sit at the base of the tree.

Yoongi nods, “So many nights in this exact spot.”

“I love it here, it was our spot.”

Yoongi’s proximity to you is much closer than it should be but neither of you are making any move to change it. His shoulder brushes against yours and you resist the urge to rest your head on his shoulder.

“It still is.” He corrects, tapping your knee gently with his hand and resting in there.

You freeze for a moment, not knowing how to process his touch anymore but you can’t push him away. In fact, you’re relishing in the heat burning on your skin beneath his hand. It’s one of the best feelings in the world.

“Do you remember when you tried to scare me by climbing a tree and the branch broke?” Yoongi looks up, and you can tell he’s trying not to laugh at the memory.

“Yeah but that was because I was trying to get you back for pouring ice water on me when I fell asleep on my text book.” You roll your eyes at the memory, distinctly remembering the chill on your back while Yoongi cackled in your small one bedroom apartment.

That same cackle leaves Yoongi’s lips from beside you. You snap your head towards him, “Oh you think it’s funny still?”

“Yeah,” his laugh turns into a giggle, “you can still see the broken branch.”

“What?” You glance up, and sure enough the branch is still gone. Your jaw drops and you use your hands to push Yoongi over. He doesn’t fight you on it and falls with ease even though you didn’t use very much pressure at all, and you’re quick to try and wrestle him down. “It must be so funny,” you groan as you try to pin him down, straddling your legs on either side of his waist, “to still be pinned by- holy shit you’ve gotten strong.”

Yoongi takes his opportunity to flip the two of you over, switching positions and easily pinning your hands on either side of your head. Vaguely, you wonder how much time it took for him to gain so much strength, but your mind quickly shifts once you realize the precarious position that Yoongi has put you in.

Glancing down, you see his hips rest just above your navel, and images of the many nights you shared together flash through your mind. Rushed breathing and sweaty skin sticking together as you explored each other’s bodies and always found new ways to please each other. Briefly, a rush of heat flashes through your lower abdomen at the way your imagination flushes with possibilities of Yoongi’s touch.

You inhale, your chest heaving and Yoongi’s eyes fly to the way your cleavage displays itself for him. You’ve gotten fuller than before, and it suits you. He’s enjoying every second of it.

Before he can stop himself, he leans down and smashes his lips onto yours. The grip on your wrists loosen just enough for you to slip out and have your hands flying to his cheeks. He tastes the same as he did before, his smell intoxicating as it fills your nose. Your senses are overwhelmed with him, his tastes, his scent, the way his lips feel against yours. The familiarity is there, but they feel new and exciting at the same time, like you were pushed back to your youth.

He exhales against you as if he’s been waiting all night to do just this. Slipping his legs out from beneath him, he presses his chest against yours as your hands slide to the back of his neck to hold him against you. The rest of the world falls, dissolving into nothing. You keen helplessly as you feel him grind against you, and that noise seems to push Yoongi over the edge. He growls into your mouth, pulling away to start his descent onto your neck with bites and licks in all the places you loved before.

Arching into him, your hands loop through his black locks with a gasp as his tongue licks at your wine kissed collarbones.

This is everything you’ve been wishing for. Everything feels so right.

Yet, it’s wrong. You need to stop him. You need to ask him to pull away. But you can’t. He feels too fucking good. It’s not until he reaches the stop of your chest, his fingers hesitantly reaching at your collar does he look into your eyes for permission.

And you stop him.

“I- I think I need to go have a very uncomfortable conversation with Junwoo.” You state, and Yoongi’s face drops.

“I can’t believe you still managed to think about him when I was kissing you.” He says nearly incredulously, crawling off of you and leaning his back against the tree again. His chest is rising and falling faster than before, showing that your affect on him was much stronger than you previously had thought.

Your heart twinged at Yoongi’s cold tone. You swallow, “If you think there’s a possibility of us continuing this, I have to end things with Junwoo.”

Yoongi whines, “Why now?”

You let out a little giggle, sitting up and leaning your head on his shoulder like you wanted to before. “Even if I didn’t do it right now, I don’t think we could go any further in the middle of a park.”

“I thought you liked exhibitionism.” Yoongi leans to the side, kissing you once again. It’s much breathier than before, and he prays that you don’t feel his heart pounding wildly in his rib cage at the mere thought of someone catching the two of you outside.

You gasp into the kiss and force yourself to pull away even though you didn’t want to at all. Giving him a look, Yoongi sighs.

“Okay, okay. I’ll drive you home so you can have that uncomfortable conversation.” He mutters, standing up and pulling you with him. He’s much more touchy than before, his arm wrapped tightly around your shoulders while he guides you back to his car.

The conversation you’re about to have with Junwoo will truly be one of the most anxiety inducing things you’ve ever done.

~*~*~

The dorms are dark when Yoongi arrives back. The living room in which everyone has a tendency to congregate after a particularly grueling practice day holds no one, a small reminder that everyone finally got some well deserved rest.

He hums softly to the tune of ‘People’, one of his favorite songs from his recent mixtape and opens the fridge to grab a bottle of water. When he closes it, Jimin is standing on the other side.

Yoongi jumps, “Jesus fucking christ, Park Jimin!”

“Didja get back together with her?”

“What?” Yoongi takes a second to assess Jimin’s pajama clad body, “N- no. We just hung out.”

“It’s a shame,” Jimin reaches forward and grabs the water bottle from Yoongi’s hand, “I heard you humming so I figured you finally got laid.” Yoongi opens his mouth to protest but Jimin continues before he can, “You know, I’ve known you for so long and I don’t think you’ve ever had a woman sign an NDA? Have you even had sex since you broke up with the pretty nurse?”

“I feel like that’s none of your business.” Yoongi yanks the water bottle back, opening it and praying that Jimin didn’t backwash.

“But it is my business because I have no clue how you did it. I’m sure she was fucking other guys regularly. I hear it’s bad for women to go without sex because they turn into-” Yoongi attempts to drown out the sounds of his roommate, his hand gripping the counter top tightly with unwanted images of you in another man’s bed ripping through his brain, “-and I’ve always wondered what it was like to only ever have your hand to get yourself off. Is it lonely? How much porn do you-”

“Jimin!” Yoongi shouts.

“Cutting me off is awfully rude, don’t you think?”

“Shut. the. fuck. up.” Yoongi grits his teeth, moving to walk away as Jimin laughs.

“Called it! I knew you were a born again virgi-”

“Goodnight!” Yoongi calls back, walking up to his room and locking the door behind him. He plops down onto his bed, the TV situated perfectly level with his bed. It’s a stark contrast to the small black and white TV he could afford all those years ago, so the familiar sound of his TV sounding on brings a smile to his face as he realizes yet again how fortunate he’s become.

Now he’s determined to make sure you feel the same sense of fortune that he has. Because he has you back in his life. Was it a twist of fate or the inevitability of soulmates, Yoongi isn’t sure. However, he’s immensely grateful to have you back, even if you’re not truly his yet.

~*~*~

"I’m breaking up with you.”

“What?!”

You cover your mouth as the unexpected sentence leaves your mouth. Junwoo sits in his office with his fists clenched tightly on top of his desk. He’s never been particularly good at hearing bad news, and even though it’s only been a few months you feel as though you’re signing divorce papers judging my his reaction.

It’s been two days since you last saw Yoongi. You put off speaking to Junwoo for a little bit to try and figure out exactly what you were going to say to him. You had a whole speech ready, talking about how he deserves better and that he’ll find his soulmate eventually.

But when the moment came, your speech was practically thrown to the ceiling fan and torn into a million pieces.

“W- why? What did I do?” Junwoo asks, he seems more angry than anything which you didn’t expect.

“You didn’t do anything,” you sigh, plopping in the seat on the other side of his desk, “I just don’t think it’s going to work out.”

“Everything was going so well!” Oh god, he’s yelling. “It’s that fucker Suga’s fault, isn’t it? He’s putting you up to this!”

“Fucking hell, Junwoo! How old are you, honestly? Immediately assuming that it was Yoongi is the most childish thing you could have done.” It is Yoongi, though. You know that, and unfortunately Junwoo knows that as well. It isn’t in good conscience to deny his allegations but you can’t help but do so.

Though, the inevitability of your relationship ending would have happened with out without Yoongi’s push.

“Well excuse me for thinking you would fuck a member of the biggest band on the planet! For God’s sake, any whore would drop their pants for one of them.”

Your jaw drops, “I didn’t fuck him.”

Junwoo rolls his eyes, “Are you sure? Because it’s almost like I could smell the stench coming off of you.”

You place your tongue in your cheek, biting back a response. Should have figured the man wouldn’t know how to take a break up.

Then, you laugh, “Okay. You got me, I fucked him.”

“I knew it.” Junwoo’s nostrils flare.

“Hundreds of times, eight years ago,” You spit, standing up quick enough for the chair behind you to tip over. “it wasn’t working out anyway and clearly that’s for the best. The last thing I need is a chauvinist asshole who refuses to see what was right in front of him.”

“I-”

“No,” you put your hand up, “I’m done.”

You turn around swiftly, walking out of his office and ignoring the stares from his receptionists. Surely they heard the yelling and the last thing you needed was to feel judged.

Except you weren’t being judged. Just before you reached the elevator, one of the girls spoke out. “You’re the second break up he’s had this week, don’t feel bad.”

You turn around, watching her flick vivaciously through a magazine. “What was that?” You speak slowly, turning around walking up to the desk.

“Another woman came by earlier this week, she said he’s been fucking some nurse behind her back and threw a ring at him.” She shrugs, then leans forward with a whisper, “You’re better off without him.”

You scoff, “and I had the decency to break up with him before I fucked someone else. Thanks for the tip, darling.”

As soon as the elevator doors close, you whip out your phone and text Yoongi.

To: Suga Delivered: 13:52

Deed is done if you still want me to come by

You make it to your car and hear your phone ding.

From: Suga Received: 13:57

I’ll meet you outside

Your heart flutters, so you start your car and drive as quickly as you can towards the directions of the dorm. It’s not hard, everyone in Seoul is keenly aware of where BTS stay, but there’s an unspoken rule that nobody is to bother them. One of the things you enjoyed most about this whole situation is the amount of respect they boys have earned, and you couldn’t feel more proud of Yoongi.

The gated group of buildings is intimidating to say the least, but you’re unable to contain your excitement as you pull up. Yoongi is a few feet away, waving from the other side of the gate as he presses a few buttons before you hear the gate click and begin to side open.

Your excitement over simply seeing him is nearly too much to contain. A week ago you struggled to not get nauseous at the thought of him seeing you but now you didn’t know how you ever made it without him. Inching your car forward became an arduous task because it took precious seconds away from you being able to kiss Yoongi once again.

So, you throw your car into park as the gates slip closed behind you and run out of your car to jump towards Yoongi.

He catches you, immediately slamming your lips onto his. It’s soft this time, the urgency isn’t there but he doesn’t mind the feeling of your hands gently tugging at his hair and scratching his scalp.

“Mm,” he hums against your lips, “does this mean you’re mine again?”

“With some adjustments to both of our lives,” you smile, “and making time for each other, then I’m willing to try again.”

“Good,” he grins, “let me take you inside and show you how much I’m gonna try.”

He slides you down his torso and grabs your hand, yanking you closely behind him. You let out a quiet yelp as he does so, following him into the building and welcoming the warmth that greets you. You’re lead through a long hallway but are stopped abruptly once Yoongi spots Hoseok walking through the living room.

“Hey pretty nurse, and Yoongi.” Hoseok says without looking up, and Yoongi lets out a sigh of relief.

You give him a questioning look but shake it off when Yoongi leads you up a lot of stairs and straight to his bedroom.

“Okay, there’s two ways this can go-” Yoongi slips his shirt over his head and you try to process everything as it’s happening because holy shit you’re going to fuck Yoongi for the first time in years and might actually be able to have an orgasm “-slow and steady or hard and fast.”

“Save the romance for next time,” you giggle, slipping your dress over your head and falling backwards onto his bed, “I haven’t had you inside me in years. Hard and fast.”

He chuckles, “You got it baby.”

He jumps on top of you, his hand flying to your thigh to steady your leg as he grinds his still clothed cock into your core. He’s already hard, and you’re already dripping. The last two days you spent not being near him was the most difficult thing you had experienced because you knew what was coming and how he was going to do it.

And you’re loving every second of it.

Spreading your legs wide, you reach between the two of you and play with the hem of his boxers. He groans into your mouth, inching upward so your hand slips further in, “No teasing, baby girl. Hard and fast.”

“Right, yes. I’m sorry.” you bite his bottom lip before lifting your hips and feeling his hands loop on either side of your panties to slip them down your legs. He drops between your legs immediately and inhales your scent, tossing his head back in pleasure.

“Fuck, just like I remember.” Yoongi dives back, his nose brushing against your aching clit while his tongue darts out and licks your quivering hole. You let out a quiet moan but are quick to cover your mouth as you remember there are six other men on the other side of these thin walls.

The pleasure of knowing that he remembers your scent is enough to send you feral, your back arching off the bed as his lips finally wrap around your clit and sucks hard. The obscene sound of him drinking in your juices fills the room, his groans against your core sending chills up your spine. If there was anything you knew about Min Yoongi, it’s that he knew how to use his tongue.

You fill your core begin to heat up as your orgasm builds and before you know it, you’re uncovering your mouth and letting out a moan loud enough to be heard for miles.

Yoongi can’t help but smirk against you as he drinks in your release, moving to trail kisses up your abdomen as you come down from the pleasure.

“You ready for more?” He kisses your lips, and it’s then that you notice his cock his gloriously hard against his stomach, boxers long discarded.

“Please, yes. Please please plea-”

“Alright, hold your horses.” Yoongi jokes, brushing the head of his cock against your slit a few times teasingly.

You pout, “You said no teasing.”

He nods, “I can’t help it. Your face is so cute when you’re begging for my cock.”

As you’re thinking of a rebuttal, Yoongi finally slips inside. Both of you moan in pleasure at the clenching of your core. He remembers exactly how to move to get you to gasp, how deep to move to get you to clench, and he remembers what each of your movements mean. Your nails currently dig into his back harshly but he doesn’t complain, because that means his thrusts are going at just the right speed.

He wishes you can scream like you used to, but he realizes how weird that could be for his bandmates to hear. However, he can’t say that he necesarily minds all things considered. He’d love for Jimin to hear what he’s doing to you after the way his smart mouth moved the other night. He could imagine his face as he listens, but then Yoongi is dragged back to the moment when he feels you clench particularly hard.

You feel him tensing more and more, struggling to hold on as your vice grip on him tightens even further. The soft sponge of your warm cunt is nearly too much for him to bare, and as you feel your second orgasm approach, you grip Yoongi’s face in your hands, “Cum for me. Please.” His eyes flutter closed and he begins to thrust faster, lips on yours and sweat building on both of your foreheads. Then, your second orgasm washes over you deliciously, Yoongi’s hips stuttering before he follows with his own release, his cum coating your walls white. He’s still for a moment, gasping above you. When you reach up and brush the hair from his forehead, he collapses on top of you, “Fuck, that’s even better than I remembered.”

“Good,” you giggle, kissing his nose, “because there’s so much more I want to try with you.”

His heart flutters irrevocably, knocking the wind out of him when he realizes that you’re in this for the long run just as he is. This time he swears he’s going to make it work, and he plans on spending the rest of his life with you.

His lips brush against you once again, then he speaks.

“Write me a list, baby girl.”

#ty for reading!!#min yoongi #min yoongi x reader #yoongi x reader #yoongi #suga #bts #suga x reader #suga x reader smut #yoongi x reader smut #min yoongi x reader smut #suga x reader fluff #yoongi x reader fluff

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dreamerfae · 5 years ago

Text

Together Forever

Summary: Two terminally ill patients meet one another and make an important decision that will affect their lives.

Word Count: 5785

Rating: Teen and Up

Genre: Alternate Universe - Human

A white ceiling with a fan always turned on. Nurses' voices and the beeping sound of machines. The smell of disinfectant. The taste of bland food. An enclosed room.

This is what patients in the hospital face every day they stay in the hospital. For some, the stay is temporary, whilst for others, the stay is permanent. The latter is the case of 2 patients, who have been living in the same ward for the past few years.

Patients often move in and out of the wards and a patient was just discharged today. The bed between 2 patients were now empty. Turning to the side, the male's gaze lingered on the empty bed now beside his, before his gaze landed on the female who had been staring out of the window for the past few minutes.

"It's lonely, isn't it? When someone gets to leave the hospital." He brought up his courage to speak to the lady.

The violet haired female turned to him and stared at him with a dazed and blank look. "Huh? Oh yeah."

"What's your name? My name's Kaneki Ken. We've been staying in the same ward for the longest time but never got to introduce ourselves to one another."

"Kirishima Touka."

"Nice to meet you. If you don't mind asking, what's your illness? I'm allergic to bacteria and will die if I'm exposed to it for too long. That's the reason for the mask attached to my mouth now." Kaneki explained.

Touka observed how the mask had a tube connected to it which further was connected to a machine at the side of his bed. She guessed it was a filter of sorts, to filter out bacteria. "I..have a heart problem. I can't get too excited, happy, sad or anything. My heart hurts when that happens and if I don't take my meds in time, I'll die."

"..terminal?"

"Terminal."

Silence fell over them because hearing that made them depressed all over again.

"..Me too. Do you read books? Watch movies?"

Touka's lips quirked. She appreciated his quick thinking in changing the topic. Kaneki continued chatting with her, who seemed to be responding only with short phrases or sentences. That was fine, he thought, as she was still wary of him—still strangers—and didn't seem to be good with words. They soon became somewhat friends—hospital or ward buddies—despite the weird starting of their friendship.

As the days passed while they chatted, Touka's once sorrowful face gradually had a smile on it and the fact that he was the cause, Kaneki was glad he started talking to her. She always seemed so lonely by herself in her bed.

Today, both lay in their beds, as usual, staring up at the white ceiling above them.

"Tell me about your family. Why doesn't yours come to visit?" Touka asked.

At that question, the light in his eyes dimmed and he ceased his smile. Directing his gaze onto his fisted hands on his lap, the look in his eyes seemed as if he were somewhere else, not here. "My dad and mom died early, and my aunt was supposed to look after me but she disliked me and refused to pay my hospital bills. So I was passed around in relatives and finally had one relative who was willing to fund my hospital bills only because he was rich. So here I am."

Unlike Kaneki, Touka had a very loving father and mother and an asshole brother but still loved her nonetheless. She couldn't imagine how it was like for him to lose his only family at a young age and having no one who wanted to stay by his side due to his illness being a burden. Sliding herself out of bed, she sat down on a chair at his bed and looked at him.

"I-I'm sorry to hear that... Can I hold your hand?" She asked.

He smiled weakly. "I would appreciate that."

Pumping a special sanitizer into her hands to prevent bacteria from affecting him, she proceeded to hold his hand. It was her first time holding a guy's hand aside from her father's but despite it being a male's hand which was supposed to be strong and meaty, his was skins and bones. She was overcome with sadness for his hard life and squeezed his hand before staring at him, hoping that it would convey to him that she was here for him.

His eyes crinkled, signaling her that he knew what she was doing. "Thank you, Touka."

After that, they became closer friends and often hold hands. Holding hands made them feel connected and better.

"Is there anything you would like to do if you get discharged?" He asked.

"Yep, in my free time, I wrote a list of things I want to do before I die." At that, she opened the cabinet by her bed and filled to a page that had the words 'bucket list before death' in capital letters.

"I want to go to a theme park, a zoo and an aquarium, a cafe, a shopping mall, the summer festival with fireworks, food, and games..." she seemed so excited as she read through her long list of places she wanted to visit.

"Mm, anything else?"

Her voice lowered to a whisper and he could sense the sorrow in her words. "I..want to date someone, get married and live a normal newlywed life in my own house. I want to wake up beside someone I love every single morning as a normal person would. I know, it's impossible, but a girl can only dream."

Kaneki was overcome with sadness because as far as he knew, patients with terminal and serious illnesses rarely get to leave the hospital which meant that she couldn't accomplish all of the things on her list. Dating? Marriage? There was no chance of that happening if she's stuck in here 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.

"What about you, Kaneki?"

"Me? I... I don't have many things I want to do. Maybe go to a bookstore and buy some books, go to a nice cafe that sells good coffee and go on a date with a girl."

"You don't have many ambitions, do you?" She teased and he flushed.

—

Beep. Beep. Beep, beep, beep..

The sound of the machine that monitoring heart rate by Touka's bed increased in speed and sound and Kaneki awoke in the middle of the night to nurses rushing into the ward and surrounding his friend's bed.

They shook her by the arm whilst calling her name urgently. "Touka-San? Touka-San, are you alright?"

Instead of replying to the nurses, Touka who had been lying on her side had her hand squeezing the area over her heart and her face scrunched up in pain. A doctor soon came over and saw to her. He spoke to the nurses and then, they all detached her bed and started rolling it out.

"Touka-San, we're bringing you for surgery now, okay?"

The nurses kept on saying stuff to her but she never replied as they brought her out of the ward. Heart pounding in his chest, Kaneki got up in bed and got the nurse to bring to him to the seating area outside her operation theatre, despite the nurse's urges of him needing to rest.

It was 2 am in the morning, and he sat in his wheelchair at his nurse's insistence, staring at the 'operation ongoing' words in red for the longest time. He fiddled with his fingers and bit his lips in an attempt to calm himself down. Touka's family soon arrived and they also situated themselves outside.

"Are you a friend of Touka's?"

Her mother, Hikari, asked him and Kaneki nodded numbly. In that serious situation, he didn't know how to talk to them even though he knew he should, out of respect.

She smiled, relieved. "I'm glad she has a friend like you in the hospital. She always says she's okay and that she's not lonely but we can tell that it isn't the truth. She seems much happier these days and I guess that's because of you?"

"I-I wouldn't say that as it's presumptuous of me, but I cherish my friendship with Miss Kirishima as well. She is very fortunate to have a family like you in her tough times and who are willing to rush over when she's in a pinch. It's nice."

His own sadness at not having a good family might have reflected on his face which he wasn't aware of. Her father, Arata, stood up and walked to Kaneki. "She's told us about you through text and we appreciate you being by her side. We don't mind treating you as part of our family since you're her only friend now."

Tears brimmed in his eyes. "I-I would love that. Thank you."

Touka remained in the operation theatre for another 1 hour and seeing that Kaneki was still there, his nurse told him that he needed to get his sleep. He hesitated, not wanting to leave before he knew whether Touka was alright, and her family assured him that they would stay and wait for her. They would inform him when she was out and safe.

He went back to his bed, and despite feeling as though he wouldn't be able to sleep due to how worried he was, he eventually fell asleep from the meds he took.

When he awoke the next morning, he saw Touka back in her bed beside him and sighed in relief. Her family was there with her and her mother went over to him with a tired but relieved smile. "She survived but she needs rest. All of us needs to head to work now, could you look after her for us?"

"Of course, Mrs. Kirishima."

—

When she awoke a few hours later, she turned to her side and found Kaneki smiling at her. "Hey. How are you feeling?"

"I feel like shit." She answered, voice raspy.

He fought not to laugh but it escaped him anyways. She gave a weak smile and he got up to pour her a glass of water. Holding it to her mouth, he watched her drink a few sips before putting the glass onto her table.

"Your family was here since the time you went into operation until early morning. They had work so they just went back."

"What happened to me?"

"From what I heard, you had a heart attack last night and underwent thrombolysis, a procedure that involves injecting a clot-dissolving agent to restore blood flow in a coronary artery."

She nodded slowly as if trying to digest his words.

"While you were in the operation theatre, I realized how since we don't have much time left—I thought long and hard about this—I feel that we should do what we wanted to do before we die."

"Which is?"

Kaneki swallowed. He was still young, at the age of 23 and didn't know the correct or proper way to phrase it. "I figured we should start with the impossible task that you mentioned. I'm sorry about the time and place but will you marry me and be my wife?"

Tears brimmed in her eyes when his words finally sunk into her soul and she looked at him. Her chest tightened and she felt so emotional right now. "Really? You want to marry someone like me, who has a medical burden?"

"I want to, and I have a medical condition as well so we're equal. What do you say?" He held out his shaking hand and waited for her to take it.

Wiping her tears away, she put her hand into his glove-clad one. "Yes."

—

They were unable to get the doctor's permission to leave the hospital and decided to have the wedding ceremony in the ward itself. As they stood opposite on another, they recited their vows and exchanged the rings which Kaneki asked his best friend—Hide—to buy for him and Touka. Despite the small attendance of only Hide, Touka's friend—Yoriko, and Touka's family, they were grateful that they had them come down to the hospital to witness the ceremony.

With some arrangements from the hospital, they managed to share a bed for on that night with Touka laying in Kaneki's arms and falling asleep to the soft sound of their breaths and body warmth.

Touka never thought she'd be married and felt that she could never be happier than this.

After a serious discussion, they decided to approach the doctors to seek permission to leave the hospital in hopes of fulfilling their wishes of leaving in their own homes.

The doctors in-charge of Kaneki and Touka frowned at the idea and talked to them respectively.

-Kaneki's side-

"If you were to leave the hospital, there is a higher chance of you being affected by more bacteria at a faster rate, and you'll meet your death earlier. Despite knowing that, do you still want to continue?"

Kaneki squeezed his hands into fists and stared at his doctor with determination. "Yes. I want to fulfill Touka's and my wish."

-Touka's side-

"By doing this, you risk your own life and Kaneki's own. You need to know that while medicines can help ease your heart pain, should you have a heart attack and we cannot get to you in time, you will die. Do you understand? By leaving the hospital, the two of you are risking your lives."

Touka swallowed. "We understand."

—

"Even so, do you want to go through it?"

"Yes." Both of them answered without hesitation.

They waited nervously for the doctors' decision and the room was so quiet that you could even hear a pin drop to the floor.

"..We'll make some arrangements. We wish you all the best."

—

After much help from family and friends, the newlywed couple finally settled into their new home. They rented a place near their family and friends so that they could visit anytime. Now as they stood in the living room, Touka looked in awe at the once empty room, now filled with furniture.

"I can't believe this is really happening." She murmured before turning to her husband as her eyes became glassy with tears. "And it's all thanks to you."

At that moment, Kaneki had a strong urge in him to want to continue to fulfill her wishes and make her the happiest woman in the world. He took one hand in his and cupped her cheek with the other. Caressing her cheek with his thumb, his eyes crinkled as he smiled and pulled off his mask.

His doctor had advised him to put on his mask for as long as possible and to limit his sexual activities with her because bacteria can be passed through saliva. But now, he didn't care about all that and only wanted to kiss her, despite not knowing how to. He decided to try and hoped that his hobby of watching romance shows will help him.

She gasped at his action. "Kaneki, your mask—you can't—"

"It's just for a while."

With his hand pressed against her lower back, he pulled her close and leaned over to press a light kiss on her lips. Shocked at first, she didn't want to do this, knowing how it would affect his health but slowly got around to it when she realized that he's doing this despite knowing the risks. So she parted her lips slightly to allow him to kiss her deeper, to which he did. He pulled back hesitantly and gazed down at his wife who had pink dusted on her cheeks and a shine in her eyes.

Their first kiss as a person, and as a married couple.

She finally seemed to come to her senses from her dazed state and forced him to quickly put his mask back on. Grabbing his wrist, she checked the watch he wore given by the doctor for the amount of bacteria in his body. The kiss they had gave him 0.005% bacteria to which Touka didn't know whether to feel happy or upset that it was a small percentage or that it did give him bacteria.

"Don't worry so much. I'm okay." He said softly as if to settle her worries.

"But—"

His gaze softened, he was glad to see that she cared and was worried about him. "Could you do something for me? It doesn't have to be immediately but in time, I would like you to call me by my first name, since we're married and all."

At that, she stiffened. Aside from Yoriko, she has never called someone by their first name before, and on top of that, a male. But now that they were a couple, she wanted to do so, not just because it would make him happy but also as they didn't have much time left. "K-ke—kaneki.."

She didn't like that the words wouldn't come out from her at all. Upon seeing the disappointment on his face, to which he quickly hid with an understanding expression, she tried again.

"K-Ken.."

His face brightened like a child's and without words, she could tell how happy he was through the tight hug he gave her.

—

As of that day, their lives as a newlywed couple begun.

Every other day, they'd go out on dates, going places they've always wanted to visit and doing things they've always wanted to try doing. That included going to a theme park, visiting a cafe that sold good coffee and a bookstore, an animal cafe, a summer festival, shopping malls and many more.

Every time they'd go back home, exhausted but satisfied and contented.

On the days they didn't go out, they would stay in bed in one another's arms, limbs tangled underneath the blankets. Kaneki would always wake up first, wash up and goes to make coffee while waiting for Touka to awake. Once she was, she would settle down in the chair opposite him at the dining table and they would sip their coffee, enjoying the comfortable silence between them.

Then, they'd proceeded to do house chores together. Despite doing the routine every day, it was never boring for them as they did it together and often chatted whilst doing so. Sometimes, Kaneki would cook and sometimes Touka would cook. They have a competition each time on whose food tasted nicer.

What they didn't know was how deep they would fall in love with one another, completely different from when they first met in the hospital.

It wasn't all good times either, where either one of them would start showing symptoms of their illnesses. For Touka, her heart would feel pain at times and she had to take her medicines. For Kaneki, he would get sick occasionally due to amount of bacteria in his body. Even so, they lived each and every day to its fullest as they could never know when would be the last day for them.

—

"Tickle fight!" Touka roared as she jumped Kaneki on the bed and started to feel his body for his ticklish spots. The male laughed out loud when her fingers touched his stomach and neck and they ended rolling around in the bed, arms around one another and laughing.

Breathing heavily, they gazed at one another before Touka realized that Kaneki was above her. The atmosphere between them charged. Her fingers tangled in the hair on his nape, nails gently scratching his scalp. Eyes wide, cheeks pink, he parted his lips, pressed them together as he hesitated and leaned down. Their lips met and she moaned as he pressed gentle kisses to her neck and down her chest. His hands paused at the hem of her shirt and he looked at her for permission to remove it.

She stopped him by pushing on his chest, eyes meeting his. "What happens when your bacteria level reaches 100%?" She asked slowly and softly.

He swallowed and hesitated, 'I'll die."

Panic flashed in her eyes and he tried his best to reassure her. "Don't worry, I won't die just yet. My bacteria level is only 40%."

"Don't lie!"

The anger in her eyes rattled him to the core.

"I checked it last night when you were asleep and it was 66%! Why didn't you tell me that it was already this high?"

When he remained silent, she continued and wiped her falling tears away but to no avail. "We should stop doing anything intimate like kissing from now on. I don't want you to die because of me." Her voice was full of sorrow.

"No, it's not your fault that it got this high. The doctor told me if I left the hospital, this was to be expected and I knew that before I decided to leave the hospital with you. I would rather die earlier doing the things I like with you than sit in my bed doing nothing at all. I love you, so I want to do many things with you. I don't want to regret anything. Everything I do is my choice, so please, don't cry..."

Even as he said all of those things, she continued sobbing into his chest. "I love you too, Ken. My whole life changed when you spoke to me that day and I never regretted leaving the hospital with you. You make me so happy." At that, she pulled back and looked up at him with a smile and teary eyes.

He smiled. "And I will continue to make you happier if you would give me a chance."

She hesitated and decided that she also wanted him to be happy before she smiled. "Okay."

Touka had a strong resistance to doing intimate things with him because she didn't want his bacteria level to increase but now that she knew that he didn't have much time, all the more she wanted to give him what he wanted and make him happy—just as how happy he has made her—and besides, she wanted it too.

He caressed her cheeks gently with the warm smile on his face that she fell in love with him for and felt her back touch the bed beneath her. He roamed above her and his hair tickled her neck as he pressed soft kisses to it.

—

Laying on his naked and heaving chest, Touka listened to his racing heart beat and snuggled closer to him. He held her close and kissed her forehead.

"I want you to promise me 2 things, Touka."

"What is it?"

"I promise that I will tell you the percentage honestly from now on so I need you to promise not to check my watch without my permission."

"But—"

His pleading eyes was all it took for her to promise.

He smiled weakly. "Thank you. The next one is, if I die, you must move on and live for as long as possible. I know this may be hard for you to do, but I only want you to be happy."

Tears welled up in her eyes and she wanted to tell him that there was no point in her living in a world without him. From her shaking body, he could tell what she was thinking and he squeezed her hand. She just couldn't find it in her to refuse him, not when he looked at her, his eyes tired and weak. How could she, when he had already accepted that he was going to die?

For all she knew, tonight could be his last day on this earth. Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't cry. She shoved her thoughts away and nodded hesitantly. "Okay, I promise."

A week later...

The end was near.

That was something that they both realized when Kaneki suddenly started coughing in the middle of the night, and could only go back to bed after he took many deep breaths through the mask that was connected to his bacteria filtering machine. It scared Touka so much to the point that her heart ached in her chest and she had to take her medicines to ease the pain.

Climbing back into bed, he wrapped an arm around her to pull her close and she held in her tears. While there was a possibility that she might die before he does, she still couldn't imagine how it would be to live without him—her first and only love.

—

Kaneki could feel his body slowly succumbing to his illness as he's been getting sicker and while Touka wasn't looking, he glanced at his watch which lit up with a 98% bacteria level. His heart sank at the realization that he might die tonight. At most, he can only last till tomorrow. Even though he had already prepared himself, he guessed that one could never fully be prepared for death.

He glanced sadly over to his wife. From how gently she has been treating him for the past week and how clingy she was to him, maybe she also knew that his death was approaching.

He didn't want her to worry or cry and decided to keep his mouth shut about his bacteria level. They linger in bed, limbs tangled with one another's and he played with her hair before pushing a few strands behind her ear. Cupping her cheek, he kissed her and she kissed him back.

"I love you, Touka." He whispered. He just had to say it now in case he dies after tonight.

To Touka, it felt like he was saying his last words and she hoped that she was only overthinking it. Tears brimmed in her eyes nevertheless, and she kissed him once more. "I love you too, Ken."

"Go to sleep.." he murmured, pressing a kiss to her forehead and he watched as she soon drifted off to sleep, tears still at the corner of her eyes.

He gazed at her for as long as he could to memorize all of her features that made her beautiful before he felt his eyes closing in fatigue. His watch hadn't vibrated yet, which told him that his death was not yet coming, for which he felt comforted by.

For just this once, he slept without the mask connected to his bacteria filtering machine and did what he always wished to, which was to hold her in his arms and bury his face into her hair, neck, and chest. He didn't have any more time and he didn't want to regret spending his possible last night with her, hooked up on his machine and not being able to hug her how he wanted to. He soon fell asleep.

At 6 am, he awoke to the violent vibration of his watch and saw 100% on it. His arms tightened around his wife as he looked down at her with teary eyes. He decided against waking her up, not wanting her to see his passing away before her eyes. It would be too painful for her and for him to see her crying before he passed.

His voice came out soft and weak, as he whispered, "Touka, I'm sorry I have to leave before you, make sure you keep your promise in living for as long as possible. Just know that I'll always love you and that I'll be watching over you from heaven. If I were to be reincarnated, I want to be a human again and live my life by your side. Thank you for everything and I love you."

Relieved that she didn't wake up from all his talking, he kissed her for the last time before he departed this world, holding his beloved in his arms.

At 10 am, Touka woke up to the sunlight filtering through the curtains and stretched her body with a groan. She turned and found it weird that her husband was still in bed beside her, laying on his side. Usually, he'd be up by now, holding a cup of coffee in his hand towards her with a smile on his face, waiting for her to start the day with him.

She also found it weird that he wasn't hooked up to his machine, like he usually was. Panic gripped her heart when she realized that there was a possibility that it might have come off in his sleep. With her hand on his arm, she gently shook him. "Ken, your mask is off."

When he didn't stir from his sleep, she didn't think much of it and assumed that he must have been so exhausted before calling his name louder and shaking him with a larger force.

But he didn't wake. Her heart raced. Is he..?

With a speed that shocked even herself, she pressed her ear to his chest and waited for his heart to beat. When it didn't come, she swiftly pressed her fingers to his neck, panicking at the absence of a pulse before her fingers went under his nose.

Tears brimmed in her eyes as her vision of Kaneki turned blurry.

He's gone.

With shaking hands, she dialed her doctor and managed to inform him in between sobs that Kaneki has passed away.

"..That's unfortunate. I won't ask if you're okay because that's a stupid question, but I will ask what are you going to do now?"

Staring at Kaneki's pale and lifeless face, she just couldn't keep her promise to him because now that he was gone, her purpose in living has also disappeared.

"I'll follow him, Doctor." Touka sucked in a breath, voice wavering as she sobbed. "I can't imagine life without him. It's no longer bright, warm and fun. He took my heart and everything with him. I..I'm sorry, could you tell my parents?"

Her heart started to ache, and she glanced over to her heart medicines on the bedside table. Swallowing, she decided not to take the pills.

It took forever for the doctor to respond.

"Will you not reconsider? Think about your family and friends that you'll be leaving behind."

"I..I have always regretted being a burden to my family and friends and I was honestly contemplating suicide when I found out that my illness couldn't be cured. But Kaneki, he saved me. I wanted a life with him, and if I can't have that, I could at least be with him together forever, even in the afterlife. Please, doctor. It'll be the last favor I'll ever ask of you."

"...alright. It has been a pleasure meeting you. I hope you get to meet Kaneki-san."

"Thank you."

Touka hung up and proceeded to position his arms around her so that it was as if they were hugging. Eyes still teary, she smiled as she gazed at his face and recalled all of the fun times they had—their dates, their pillow talks, their making love—and laid her head on his chest.

She tried to ignore the squeezing pain in her chest and her shortness of breath and instead focused on inhaling his scent. His scent, his facial features and how his arms felt like when they were around her were the only things she could memorize and take away with her.

Taking one last look at her husband, Touka leaned over to kiss him. "Ken, thank you for giving me the life I never had and making me happiest woman in the world when you married me. If I were to reincarnate and even if I were to be sick again, I would still choose to live my life by your side. I love you..."

Her eyes slowly closed and her arms went slack.

Her family barged into the room soon after, but they were too late. The police soon came and said that out of the many dead bodies they have encountered, the way they died was definitely the most beautiful and touching. The couple had their arms around one another, foreheads against each other's and limbs tangled together. On top of that, they both had smiles on their faces.

After some checking, the police announced that the couple died naturally from their illnesses. While that was the truth for Kaneki, it wasn't for Touka. For her, her family believed that she died of a broken heart from losing her loved one.

Despite their short lives, the couple never regretted their decision in leaving the hospital because they felt that they have actually lived as proper human beings in that 2 months outside as compared to their many years in the hospital.

And now, they will be together forever, even in death.

—

Many years later...

A 18-year-old Touka entered a bookstore, hoping to find a good book to help her with her studies and accidentally knocked into someone, not noticing that they stood there.

The sound of books dropping to the floor made her wince and she held out a hand to the black-haired male who now laid on her floor because of her carelessness.

"I'm so sorry. Are you alright?" She apologized.

The male took her hand with a smile and stood up. "Yes I am, thank you."

Her heart raced at the proximity as he stood so close to her that they were chest to chest and focused her gaze on his neck. Timidly, she raised her head and her eyes met his grey ones.

His lips pressed into a thin line and parted. "My name is Kaneki Ken. What's yours?"

"Kirishima Touka."

He grinned and she felt something strike her heart at that moment. He had a cute smile. "Nice to meet you."

"N-nice to meet you too. O-oh right, your books!" Touka quickly squatted down and collected the books scattered all over the room.

Kaneki also squatted down and gathered the books in one hand whilst watching her. "Hey... I...I'm an amateur at this, but—"

Was it her or did his cheeks turn pink?

"W-will you go on a date with me?"

What was this cliche? Meeting a guy inside a bookstore and him asking her out on a date? She didn't believe in fairytales because it felt like a fairytales thing, but if she were honest, she feels drawn to him. Was this destiny, or fate?

She could tell that he was nervous as he waited for her answer and decided to put him out of his misery by rejecting him.

But her words surprised her.

"Yes, actually I would."

#kanetou #touken #kaneki ken #kirishima touka #ken kaneki #Touka Kirishima #tokyo ghoul #tokyo ghoul re #tgre #tg #faewrites

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shygirl-00 · 5 years ago

Text

Winter Song Chapter 1: Haunting memories

Song: Control by Halsey; https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YzoNRAX_SOw

Warnings: Nightmares, mentions of torture, human experimenting, mind-wiping, mentions of murder, blood, some soft fluff, akward conversations.

Disclaimer: I don't own the song or the pictures/GIFs. Credits to the original owners.

They send me away to find them a fortune A chest filled with diamonds and gold The house was awake, the shadows and monsters The hallways, they echoed and groaned

The girl hugged her knees as she stared at the grey wall across the room. She didn't feel the cold of the floor anymore.

How long had she been sitting here in her dark cell? After the numerous times she was thrown in here, she didn't bother anymore to count the endless hours she had spent in isolation. Just as she didn't bother to try to get comfy on the thin mattress she had to get some sleep on. She was lucky one of the rusty springs of the bedframe hadn't yet poked into her skin during her few hours of sleep.

I sat alone, in bed till the morning I'm crying, "They're coming for me" And I tried to hold these secrets inside me My mind's like a deadly disease

Crazy as it sounded, these hours in her cell were the only moments of peace that she knew in this hell hole. In here she could at least try to forget all the torture of needles, shocks and burns she had received on a day.

Here she could be alone with her thoughts for a moment before that door would be slammed open and those Hydra soldiers would drag her out again for another round of torture and experimenting.

I'm bigger than my body I'm colder than this home I'm meaner than my demons I'm bigger than these bones

Hydra... The organisation that had destroyed her life. They had killed her parents and taken her, had dragged her single-handedly into a world of pain and misery. And every time she thought it couldn't get any worse, the next time Hydra would top it. And that over, and over, and over again.

And all the kids cried out, "Please stop, you're scaring me" I can't help this awful energy God damn right, you should be scared of me Who is in control?

Even when she was allowed to have a moment of rest, she could barely close her eyes or the nightmares would already start. The things they made her do, the killing, the spilling of innocent blood...every night she could hear the screams of her victims and when she would wake up, she could still see the blood on her hands, she would smell the smoke of guns. After that she would always taste familiar sourness in her mouth before she would throw up.

I paced around for hours on empty I jumped at the slightest of sounds And I couldn't stand the person inside me I turned all the mirrors around

She had dreamed of escaping. Had even tried it a couple of times, but that only resulted in being captured and being more tortured and experimented on. So it stayed with dreaming. She had heard of the soldier with the metal arm. The man who managed to finally escape Hydra after years. The Winter Soldier...best friend of Captain America...James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes...

I'm bigger than my body I'm colder than this home I'm meaner than my demons I'm bigger than these bones

(Y/n)… Her own name. (Y/n) (L/n)… Hydra had even tried to take that away from her. Her future was already stolen from her, her memories were scrambled, but for some miraculous reason she had been able to cling onto her name. Every time they put her in that torture chair, they had hoped that she would finally permanently forget it and every single time she would disappoint them.

After a while she would remember her name again. Her name was (Y/n) (L/n), no matter how many times thy would fry her brain in that chair, her name. was. (Y/n) (L/n).

And all the kids cried out, "Please stop, you're scaring me" I can't help this awful energy God damn right, you should be scared of me Who is in control?

(Y/n) jumped when the door was suddenly slammed open and a group of five Hydra soldiers barged in, lead by Brock Rumlow. Since the death of Alexander Pierce, by the hands of SHIELD, he sort of became in charge of Hydra on the matter of physical missions and attacks, while Helmut Zemo became in charge of the tests and experiments. Both monsters, not afraid to tear people apart, mentally and physically, to get what they wanted. (Y/n)'s tormentors...

“Good morning Asset.” Rumlow sneered as he stared down at her. Asset...that's all she was to them. A puppet, and Hydra was her puppet master. (Y/n) didn't answer him and looked away.

“I said…”, Rumlow pulled her up by her hair, “good morning. Have you never heard of manners?!” He spat in her face as he threw her back onto the floor in front of the feet of the soldiers who manhandled her to her feet again and held onto her.

People would raise an eyebrow at the sight that five soldiers were holding a girl, but thanks to the experiments, (Y/n)'s strength had majorly increased. The last time she was escorted by only two guards, they eventually had to tranquilize her because she almost escaped them and even now sometimes five guards struggled to hold her down.

Rumlow nods at the guards. “You know where to.” Immediately, (Y/n) was dragged out of her cell into the hallway. She already braced herself for what was to come. Most likely more experimenting and serums being injected into her...

I'm well acquainted with villains that live in my head They beg me to write them so they'll never die when I'm dead And I've grown familiar with villains that live in my head They beg me to write them so I'll never die when I'm dead

But...they went another way. And she knew which way this was...one she dreaded more than any other room in this whole facility... She tried to control her breathing that caught in her throat as she was dragged through the halls.

I'm bigger than my body I'm colder than this home I'm meaner than my demons I'm bigger than these bones

As they entered that dreaded room, (Y/n) was met by the familliar sight of several scientists and assistants walking around the room, working on who knows what kind of projects. But the thing that she was most afraid of stood in the middle of the room: that godforsaken chair that ripped the memories from everyone who was forced into that thing.

And next to that horror device stood her other tormentor, Helmut Zemo.

"Why hello there, malyshka. I hope you slept well.” Zemo cooed as he petted (Y/n)’s cheek. She jerked her head away as she scowled at him. "Tsk tsk, as hostile as ever, are we?” Zemo tutted as he grabbed her chin so she was forced to look at him. He shook his head.

“Well, malyshka, if today is a success, we don't have to deal with that attitude anymore.” He grinned at her as he walked away to retrieve something from the table next to the chair.

“Wh-what do you mean by that?” (Y/n) spoke as she tried to not let her voice tremble too much. She felt her blood turn into ice as Zemo turned, seeing what he had retrieved from the table; a black book with a red star stamped on it. Her 'programming book’ as some liked to call it. Whenever that book came out, she prepared for the worst.

Zemo chuckled when he saw (Y/n)'s scared face. “Oh do not worry, malyshka. I thought these out very carefully.” He held an amused grin as he watched confusion mixed with fear etched onto the girl's face. “And it will not be that difficult. They're just...ten...simple...words…”

All colour disappeared from (Y/n)'s face. Ten words...ten...words...they were...they were going to… Her train of thought was cut short by a short scentence that left Zemo's lips that left her freaked out.

“Prep her.”

And all the kids cried out, "Please stop, you're scaring me" I can't help this awful energy God damn right, you should be scared of me Who is in control?

Never before, in her whole life, did (Y/n) struggle more than at that moment. She screamed, kicked, thrashed, she tried everything she could as the guards hauled her into the chair and began strapping her down. Several scientists began starting up the machine that would soon enough rip her memories from her.

(Y/n) clamped her mouth shut as they approached with the mouth guard. But one firm slam of Rumlow's fist in her stomach left her coughing and gasping for breath, which was used to shove the mouth guard into her mouth. Last but not least, they strapped her head down.

(Y/n)'s breathing came out ragged as her chest heaved up and down. Her eyes flashed from one side to another as she watched the people surrounding her. Then an all too familiar whirring sound filled her ears. Zemo looked down at her.

"Just relax, malyshka. All you need to do is listen...” He purred as the cold metal clamped around her head. The whirring sound became louder and louder. She saw Zemo's mouth move as he read from the book. She knew her brain would process the words as anything else was ripped from her. They would continue this until worked.

But the only thing she heard, a sound that filled the whole room and echoed through the hallways, was her own screaming...

And all the kids cried out, "Please stop, you're scaring me" I can't help this awful energy God damn right, you should be scared of me Who is in control?

Gasping for air, (Y/n) shot up in bed. Sweat was beading her forehead as she wrapped her arms around herself, trying to get her breathing under control. She took shaky breaths as she rubbed her face. Giving herself a moment to calm down, she laid back down on her bed.

The day they implanted her triggerwords...that was the most recurring nightmare that had been haunting her night and night again. Even now, six months after The Avengers had saved her from that hell hole, it felt like yesterday that they put those damn words into her brain.

(Y/n) looked at the time that was being projected on the wall. 04:00 am. With a sigh (Y/n) kicked the sheets off of her and sat up, sliding her feet into her slippers. She knew that, even if she tried, she would not be able to fall asleep again. She wrapped her blanket around herself and quietly shuffled out of her room, on her way to the living room in The Avengers tower.

Ever since they rescued her, (Y/n) had been living with The Avengers at their compound. When they found out that, after they rescued her, she didn't have any family she could turn to, they took her in and they practically became her family. And she couldn't be more grateful for them.

Steve Rogers, the Captain himself, had been acting like a father or a big brother to her. He was usually the person that held her when she was having a panic or anxiety attack, she could cry on his shoulder when the nightmares became too much. He would be one of the first people to notice if something was wrong.

Tony Stark, genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist, together with Bruce Banner, were like the “nerd-uncles” you didn't know you needed. While Tony loved to tease her sometimes, he had a huge soft spot for the girl and he would be there for her whenever she needed him. Pepper Pots, his girlfriend, would scold him often if he teased (Y/n) too much to her liking. She was like the sweetest aunt ever. Bruce regularly checked on her physical but mostly her mental health and treated her wounds if need be.

If (Y/n) needed a hug, she could always count on Thor. Being the God of Thunder or not, he loved nothing more than picking her up and giving her a good hug, mostly one in which she could shield herself from the world for a moment.

Natasha Romanoff and Wanda Maximoff, two women who you didn’t want to get angry, became like big sisters for (Y/n). They and Pepper would chase the boys out of the living room so that they could have a girl's night every once in a while. They would just chat and laugh together every once in a while, but they also trained her in order to get her powers under control.

Pietro Maximoff and Clint Barton, those two were like the chaos cousins whose goal it was to cheer (Y/n) up. Pietro loved to carry her around and then run all over the place until both of them were out of breath, him from running, she because her breath was taken away by the speed. Clint was more serious than Pietro, but he was often in for a prank or two.

Then Sam, the uncle who was sometimes teasing her even more than Tony would, but he would never let anything happen to her. Eventhough him and Tony would not always see eye to eye, they would once in a while tease (Y/n) together about her feelings towards a certain super soldier with a metal arm...

James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes... even after six months, (Y/n) still didn't know what Bucky was to her. They were friends, that was for sure, but she would be lying to herself if she hadn't wished that they could be more than that, more than once. But she would be rather damned than to admit that.

Not only would Sam and Tony not let her hear the end of it, but she would never forgive herself if she destroyed Bucky's friendship with her by admitting what she really felt for him. After all, Bucky had had enough on his plate with his own history with Hydra; he didn't need her damaged life also on his shoulders.

Little did she know, that a certain, metal-armed, super soldier had the same thoughts about himself, and had the same feelings for her...

Damaged. That's what (Y/n) called herself. Improved, that's what Hydra had called her. Well, for their sick games perhaps. Now, (Y/n) was scared of herself. She had seen the file that The Avengers managed to take with them. It stood there, everything Hydra had put in her and what she was now:

(Y/n) (L/n), Asset 107. Enhanced strength, speed, durability and flexibility. Powers of remnants of Mind Stone present. Trained fighter with guns, knives and hand to hand combat.

And there they were, those cursed triggerwords. Steve had quickly taken the file out of her hands. Her nightmares were already enough torment. And he had a point.

Quietly, (Y/n) opened the door to the living room and slid inside. She quickly popped into the kitchen to get a glass out of the cabinet and fill it with water. She took some sips to at least get the adrenaline, that her nightmares always gave her, down. She sighed. Would she ever be able to get rid of those horrific nightmares…? She turned to go sit on the couch.

“Can't sleep either?” A voice called out. (Y/n) jumped and shrieked, letting go of the glass in the process. A quick, silver hand swooped the glass out of the air, catching it before it would break on the ground. "Careful there, we don't want any accidents.” (Y/n) looked up to meet a pair of ocean blue eyes looking into her (e/c) ones.

"You okay?” Bucky Barnes put the glass back on the counter and raised an eyebrow when the girl in front of him stayed quiet. "Hello, Earth to (Y/n)?” He waved with his flesh hand in front of her face.

(Y/n) blinked. “Uh...yeah, fine! I mean...ahum...yeah I'm okay.” She quickly took her glass and went to the living room with it. This was what she always feared. Making herself look like a complete fool in front of Bucky. And now she had just done that...great.

With a soft sigh, she flopped onto the couch, tugging her blanket closer around herself, sipping on her water. She eyed Bucky as he came out of the kitchen with a cup of coffee. When he saw her looking, he gave her a soft smile. (Y/n)'s cheeks coloured bright red. She quickly hid her face behind her glass of water, hoping Bucky hadn’t seen it.

But of course Bucky had seen it. With his enhanced abilities and his training as a spy, he could pick up the smallest details.

He had only one issue; he was never taught how to work with feelings for another person. Sure he knew about friendship and such, his long lasting friendship with Steve never seemed to falter, but no, they never told him how to approach a person when the idea of more than friendship came up. Yes, in his old days, he had flirted with some dames, but that was all it was, flirting, not, Bucky gulped at the tought, love.

“Bucky…?” He was awakened from his thoughts when a soft voice called his name.

He looked up and saw that (Y/n) was looking at him again. "W-what? You said something?” She smiled softly. “I asked why you couldn't sleep. Since you said can't sleep either.”

Bucky let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, taking a sip of his coffee. “Oh, ehm...nightmares doll...same old I know-” Bucky cut himself short when he saw (Y/n)'s face fall. Then he realised he had called her doll. Shit, did she not like that? It just slipped out...

“Well I'm at least not the only one…” she mumbled as she sipped from her water. Wait...she wasn't talking about the word doll, was she?

Bucky could almost hit himself when he realised. She had nightmares, just like him. Logical, she had been in Hydra's hands, just like him. And she had also been damaged...just like him… Bucky clenched his flesh hand around his coffee cup while his metal one squeezed a pillow.

Damaged like him...Bucky immediately pushed his personal feelings away and focused on her. “You have them too, huh?” She nodded. "One recurs more than others though. The one in which they…they implant...” her voice faltered.

"Hey, you don't have to talk about it if you don't want to…” Bucky said as he looked at her. Heck, he knew the feeling all too well, when people wanted to know exactly what was going inside his head, wanted him to repeat his nightmares over and over again. Man, how many times he had wanted to bash someones nose in for that...

"How do you do it?” (Y/n) suddenly asked. Bucky looked up. “Hm? Do what d-?” he quickly swallowed the last word.

“Cope with them...the nightmares.” (Y/n) looked at him over the edge of her glass. Bucky sighed.

“I don't know. I just...do it. I do stuff and try to get as much sleep as I can. Steve often helps me by waking me up if he hears me screaming.”

(Y/n) smiled softly. Steve had often done that with her as well. He would hold her as she sobbed into his pyjama-shirt, until she had calmed down enough to talk.

“Yeah...yeah I know...he does that for me as well. Poor guy must have had some rough nights with us heh…” she smiled a small smile that got a bit bigger when she heard Bucky chuckle. His chuckle was like music to her ears...God she had it bad for him...

“Well yeah, he has always been a momma's boy, but I think he missed the memo that that doesn't mean you need to act like a mom.” Bucky commented dryly, receiving a giggle from the girl across from him on the couch. Her smile made him involuntarily blush...man was he head over heels for her.

"Maybe his head is still stuck in the 40's?” (Y/n) chuckled, making Bucky laugh out loud. “Maybe you have a point there, (Y/n).” He still refrained himself from calling her doll.

And that's how the rest of the team found them hours later when they came down to get some breakfast, Bucky and (Y/n) talking on the couch and laughing at each other's remarks.

“Hey Buckaroo, having a conversation with the girlfriend?” Sam commented as he gave Bucky a pat on his shoulder. Bucky swatted him away. “Shut up, Birdbrain!”

Steve focused on (Y/n). “Nightmare again?” he asked. She nodded, sad. “Same one again.” Steve sighed.

“Why didn't you come to me? I told you, you could always wake me up when you need me.” (Y/n) looked down at her lap. “I don't want to be a bother, Steve...”

Before Steve could answer, Sam commented: “She had the perfect talking partner right here!” Immediately after that he had to duck because Bucky had thrown his coffee cup at him.

“You know, just because I can afford it, doesn't mean you have to destroy it, Tin Man!” Tony remarked from the kitchen as the breaking of ceramics could be heard.

"Come on you two, get dressed otherwise no breakfast for you.” Natasha remarked as she ushered Bucky and (Y/n) out of the room. Steve followed Bucky while she followed (Y/n).

“Sam did have a point though, you two talking is a nice sight.” Natasha remarked, sitting on (Y/n)'s bed as the latter was changing behind the doors of her huge closet (thanks Tony).

“I have no idea what you're talking about, Nat.” (Y/n) commented as she threw her pyjamas on her bed and put on jeans and a blouse.

“Just saying, you two would make a cute couple.” Natasha remarked. She received a pair of socks against her head as an answer.

“Come on punk, just drop it allright?” Bucky huffed as he stuck his head through the opening of his maroon coloured sweater. Steve leaned against the doorpost.

"Buck, why are you so hesitant about it? You like each other's company, that's a good start.” "Shut it Steve, don't pretend you're now all-knowing about relationships!” Bucky commented as he folded his pyjamas and put them under his pillow.

“Then tell me what the issue is, Buck!” Steve sighed, eyeing his childhood best friend. The brunette sighed and sat down on the bed.

"Listen up punk...”

"Nat, I know you mean well, but even if there is a truth behind your remarks...”

“...even if you somehow miraculously have found the answer to helping others with relationships…”

“...why would (s)he want a damaged person like me?”

Holy macaroni, first chapter finally done! I'm nervous as all heck because I love Bucky/Sebastian Stan so much I want to do him justice. Plus I hope that you liked it as well. If anyone wants to be tagged, just let me know. Thanks for reading, lots of love! ❤️

Translation: Malyshka = little girl

Taglist: @jtargaryen18, @sherlocked-bitch, @on-your-left-birdie, @tcc-gizmachine

#Bucky Barnes #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes imagine #winter song

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hermannsthumb · 6 years ago

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i want to read the fic about newts Nurse Lingerie outfit 👀,....

i posted concepts for this on my side twitter and it spawned the unfortunate phrase “dick machine broke” “understandable have a great day” just so you know. i don’t even remember where i referenced the idea of nurse lingerie originally LOL

18+/rated e below cuttttttttttt

Hermann was not entirely on board when Newton originally proposed the idea for a number of reasons, though his largest reserve was in regard to the subject of the roleplay itself. Medical settings are not remotely arousing for Hermann—Hermann, who’d been in-and-out of the doors of specialized clinics and even more specialized doctors since the age of ten, whose earliest childhood memories consist of latex gloves and fluorescent sterility, whose palms still sweat and chest tightens when he has to go in for as much as a yearly check-up—and as much as he loves Newton, he cannot possibly imagine the man having the capacity to inject even the smallest element of eroticism into such a setting.

Hermann ended up being wrong. He didn’t mind it, as he normally might’ve. The opposite, actually.

“Hands to yourself,” Newton scolds, swatting repeatedly at Hermann until Hermann drops his hands from Newton’s hips. Newton’s soft hips, which cheap white fabric clings to, cheap white fabric that flows out into a very short and frilled skirt.

“I’m sorry,” Hermann says. “You’re simply—” He reaches for Newton’s waist, this time—just as soft, partially exposed by the cut of his dress, belly-button and the rolls of his stomach peeking through—and Newton swats at him again.

“This is the preview,” Newton says, yet even as he does, he preens a bit, inches closer into the vee of Hermann’s legs on his knees, and does not, this time, prevent Hermann from sliding a single hand up one fishnet-stockinged leg. “I just wanted to make sure you were on totally on board.” The next bit, he says teasingly. “Are you?”

Hermann nods. He thinks he may grunt something affirmative out, as well, but it’s lost when Newton leans in and pecks a quick kiss on his lips. “Sit still like a good patient, Dr. Gottlieb,” Newton says, and when he wriggles out of Hermann’s grasp (for Hermann had been unable to prevent himself from digging his fingertips into both of Newton’s thighs at Newton’s kiss) he grins cheekily. He raises his voice into something prim and professional. “We’ll have a nurse in to see you in a few seconds.”

“Newton,” Hermann protests, embarrassed at how his voice’s become little more than a high whine, “Can you not just—” But Newton winks, blows Hermann a kiss (obnoxious), and slips out of their bedroom.

An agonizing five minutes pass.

Then there’s a knock; a half-second later, Newton pushes the door open. He’s in the very same outfit he’d worn as before—the same tight dress (white, with a small cross on the front pocket and red heart buttons), the same fishnet tights (white), the same plastic stethoscope hanging uselessly around his neck and cheap clipboard at his waist—but it somehow has an overwhelming effect on Hermann all over again, subject matter aside. His mouth goes dry. His breath hitches. His trousers get incrementally tighter. He wonders, vaguely, as Newton struts over to him (because Newton truly does strut, though he’s forgone the red heels that came with the costume, perhaps wisely) whether or not he’s wearing anything beneath the skirt. Hermann hopes not.

“Hi, Mr. Gottlieb,” Newton says, still comically professional, and flashes him a smile. “You can call me Newt. How are you feeling today?”

He shifts his weight to one side, hip jutting out cockily, and the skirt shifts so very slightly. Hermann can tell he’s not wearing his usual boxers, at least, and Newton does not own briefs, which means, likely— “Er,” Hermann stammers, eyes glued to Newton’s crotch. “I–”

Newton clears his throat; when Hermann snaps to his attention, guiltily, Newton plasters on a look of mock-offense. “My eyes are up here, Mr. Gottlieb,” he says.

“Apologies,” Hermann says, and then, once he’s overcome his completely irrational, and completely bizarre, embarrassment, adds “I feel fine, er, Newt.”

This makes Newton tsk. He examines his clipboard as though it holds something more involved than a single blank sheet of paper, stolen right out of their home-office printer, and shakes his head. The movement makes his skirt flutter lightly, and as Hermann attempts to discern, once more, what lies beneath Newton’s costume, Newton tsks again. “It doesn’t look very fine,” Newton says. He flashes Hermann the blank piece of paper. “According to your chart,” he says, solemnly, “your dick is broken.”

The arousal that’d been steadily building in Hermann rockets back down into nonexistence. He’s unable to keep himself from wheezing out a startled laugh. “It’s what?”

“Your dick is broken,” Newton repeats, with a tiny, almost nonexistent snicker. He taps at the sheet. “Tragically.”

“Newton,” Hermann says, but Newton casts aside the clipboard and sets a hand on his shoulder. One leg steadily rises to rest on the end of the bed, within easy reach of Hermann. The skirt lifts. Not enough for Hermann to see beneath it.

“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” Newton says, corners of his mouth twitching up. “I’m here to help, Mr. Gottlieb.”

He drags his fingers up the calf of the same leg, then up the thigh, and bites his lower lip (pink) in exaggerated pleasure.

Hermann sobers up quickly.

Newton taps at Hermann’s chest. “Lie back on the table, please,” he says, tone low. Uncharacteristic of him. “And take your shoes off. I need to examine you properly.”

He stands back as Hermann obeys him just as quickly, following his instructions as methodically as he would a real nurse’s. Left shoe unlaced, right shoe unlaced, both set carefully onto the floor. Sweater off over his head and folded next to the shoes. Oxford cuffs and top button undone. Left leg situated carefully so as not to strain him. Hermann lies down on their bed.

Newton is on him in an instant, scooting up onto the edge of the bed in between his thighs, practiced and clever fingers immediately fumbling with the fastening of his trousers, the elastic waistband of his briefs, and pulling his prick out into the cool air of their bedroom. He wraps his fingers around it contemplatively, as if seeing it for the very first time or studying it, as Hermann shivers. “Yep,” Newton finally declares, as if Hermann isn’t growing hard enough to cut glass, perhaps, if he really put his mind to it, “broken.”

Then he leans over and sucks the head of Hermann’s prick into his mouth.

Hermann’s hand flies to Newton’s soft hair. “Oh,” he gasps, and Newton hums pleasantly and sucks in a bit more, pink mouth stretched wide and glistening with saliva and precome already, red flush settling over his round cheeks, glasses perched at the very edge of his freckled nose, “oh, oh, Newton–”

“Mmhmm,” Newton agrees.

He does not give Hermann a full blowjob—that is, Hermann does not come in his mouth, as he thinks he would’ve liked to—but rather brings Hermann just to the edge with obscene sucking and furious tonguing before popping off. He wipes saliva from the corner of his mouth off on the back of his hand while fumbling around for the discarded clipboard, then clicks an imaginary pen and jots down some equally imaginary notes. “Very interesting, Mr. Gottlieb,” he says. His voice is a little hoarse.

Chest heaving, sweating furiously, bedsheets clutched in a white-knuckled grip, and hard enough that it’s become uncomfortable, Hermann near-growls “Newton.”

Newton casts him an innocent look and clicks the imaginary pen shut. “Let’s try some other stimuli,” he says. “What about—” He bends back over and plants a small kiss at the slick head, allowing it to drag, lazily, down his chin and over his stubbled jaw. It leaves a streak across his skin. Hermann’s hips twitch up minutely; the tension in his gut coils tighter. “Or—” Newton plants another kiss, then another, then another, in quick succession, and they grow increasingly open-mouthed, increasingly sloppy. At the last—Newton’s eyes sparking something mischievous—he flutters his tongue over the slit fully and nuzzles his cheek against it. This time, Hermann keens; his fingers itch to grab hold of the back of Newton’s head, his soft hair, and just—

“What about this?” Newton murmurs. He wraps his fingers around Hermann again and begins to bring him off in slow, steady strokes, eased along by his own spit, and after pumping him twice, sucks gently at the head again.

“Yes,” Hermann gasps, clutching at the sheets in a death grip. His hips rise gradually from the bed as Newton’s clever hand picks up speed, as Newton sucks at Hermann more urgently, all calculated, teasing gracefulness of it lost, and he moans around Hermann in a way that’s almost wanton. (Newton is always terribly affected by the act of giving Hermann blowjobs.) “Ah–!”

Hermann taps at Newton’s shoulder in warning, but rather than just swallow him down, as Hermann’d been expecting, Newton pulls off just in time for Hermann to ejaculate on the low neckline of his little dress. All over the top red heart button and his bare, tattooed skin. “Ah,” Hermann repeats, though in markedly less pleasure.

He makes to cover his eyes in mortification, flushing brilliantly, but Newton—lips swollen and twisted into a grin—grabs his hands fast and presses them to his soft hips instead. Hermann automatically takes handfuls of skin and cheap fabric. “You’ve been very cooperative,” Newton says. “I think you deserve something for that, don’t you?”

“Hm?” Hermann says, panting, because, truthfully, he is still a bit hazy from his orgasm.

Newton’s grin widens a bit. He reaches down and lifts his skirt up: completely without underwear, it turns out, head of his prick flushed red and wet and bobbing against his stomach. It’s a lovely sight. “It’s not exactly a lollipop,” he says, “but…” He waggles his eyebrows ridiculously.

“Come up here,” Hermann orders, and Newton scrambles to obey.

#newmann #maria’s fanfiction tag #not SFW //////#Anonymous

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jabronixav · 7 years ago

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Holo; Chapter 1

A loud snap was heard as a light illuminated a grey, carbon-plated body. It was shaped like a human, however, and shared many of a human’s qualities. It had no eyes, but mere holes where eyes should be, accompanied by lights in the holes. It had no mouth, but rather had a set of small, vent-like holes in the region above the chin. Laying on a bed, the body was surrounded by two men, one with a large, long coat, shrouded by the darkness around the operating table which was illuminated. On the other side of the bed was a man in a button-down shirt, with his sleeves rolled up and his tie slightly loosened. They both had faces which resembled humans, though, in that time, your average machine was indecipherable from a human in most cases. This android on the table was one such exception.

“This is what the inside of a body would appear as after the initial injection of the device.” spoke the man with the shirt and tie. “Holobyte is what we’ve decided to name it. Should be finished in a few months or so.” The man with the trench coat placed a gloved hand on his bald head, scratching for a moment, before exhaling heavily through his nose.

“What’s so special about this, then? We’ve already got a handful of military experiments back on earth that can rival this. You know for a fact that the Madagascar Project would decimate this, right?” The man loosened his tie a tad bit more and exhaled heavily through his agape mouth.

“We’re not finished just yet. Give it some time and I assure you it’ll be a worthwhile investment.” Before he could finish, the man with the trench coat left the room, slapping the wall panel in the hallway, shutting the door behind him. The only noise heard for the next few moments was the tapping of boots down the hall. The man with the tie turned away from the model on the table, pulling his tie off completely and unbuttoning his top button. “Son of a bitch.” He muttered to himself, before fiddling through some boxes beside the door, with his back to the table. At this moment, the model on the table sat up, and peered over to the man. In the same vein as the trench-coated man, he walked out, reading off some papers as he shut the door. Alone in the room laid a lone android model.

That model was me.

I stood up completely at this point, my head only spinning a little bit. I had been out of commission for a pretty long time I take it, and, due to this, I hadn’t been too used to my controls anymore. This was no major issue, however, as it only took a moment for me to get my bearings straight. I wandered around the room, semi-aimlessly, getting used to using my fingers again. After several minutes, I had decided I’d wandered around enough, and I was ready to leave this room. There was only one problem, though: I had no clue where I was. I placed my hand on the door panel to get into the hallway, with hopes of finding out where I was. Well, I can very easily say my desire was fulfilled extremely quickly.

In front of me was a massive window, revealing to me a black void of stars. Beside this window, too, was a massive planet, blocking the sun beyond it. I placed my carbon hand on the window, standing and inspecting the open void, as well as the planet beside this spacecraft. The wandering of my eyes was interrupted when I spotted a map beside the window, being projected onto the wall. This became the newest meal for my sensors to feast upon. I looked at the map up and down, and in a matter of seconds, I concluded my hypotheses on location: I was on a large cruiser called the S-17 ‘Antler’, and I was in the R&D Wing, Second Floor, third room on the left. The ship consisted of other wings, such as Medical, Administrative, and Engineering. But there was one that I kept peering over to every now and then: Reproductive. I was about to tap the icon beside the name of the wing, with hopes of receiving some kind of information, but I was interrupted by the door at the on of the hallway to my right being opened. Through the door came an armed figure, carrying what looked like a rifle, cloaked in black armor, covering his face and his body. The armor plating was thick, and the large leggings seemed to resemble an Edo-era Japanese aesthetic. They pulled up the weapon quickly and approached me slowly as my hand remained on the map.

“Place your hands up and do not move.” It spoke plainly. From its vocal tone, I could only assume that it was, in fact, an android. Its voice was not natural, it had a peculiar reverb to it, causing it to emit an tube-like effect. Regardless, I complied. “In compliance with local craft law, you are being detained. Do not speak or attempt escape.” He began to place his hand on my wrists, and another on his holster after placing his rifle onto his back. I couldn’t move my arms at all, and, luckily, I couldn’t exactly emit any noise from my model.

We began to walk down the hall of the first floor of the R&D Wing, passing by rooms of other android models and experiments. I looked into some of the rooms as I passed them, seeing a variety of human-like individuals. The more of them I saw, the less I believed that any were natural beings. I peered my head to the other direction now, looking back out the window, and slowing down for a bit. I was shoved by the guard for slowing my pace a bit, but continued to stare at what appeared to be a fleet of other ships. Their insignia was different than the one I had seen on the maps of this ship, and I only glanced at the wall again to see the Antler’s emblem before continuing to walk. I then began to count in my head, starting from zero.

Thirty-nine. It took thirty-nine seconds before an alarm was triggered in the ship. This guard was very consistent, however, and did not budge from his path behind me, nor did he speed up or slow down. The hall we were in was now the Security Wing, and doors were heard opening and closing repeatedly, and armed men and women alike were spotted flooding the rooms, all carrying heavy weaponry. To move a muscle here without permission would be suicide. Ahead of us was a large room, with an even larger concentration of soldiers. I walked into the crowd, and crouched a bit, pushing myself through and a bit off-course. I stood up and peered around a bit. Luckily for me, my model was almost the exact shade as the armor these soldiers were wearing.

Inside this large crowd were a variety of guards, all waiting for a single door to open, so that they may flood what I can only assume to be a hangar of sorts. I hugged the wall while the crowd dispersed into the room beyond the door, which had opened at last. I quickly kicked the panel beside it to shut the door, successfully escaping my captivity. Further down the hall were a set of smaller, round doors, as opposed to the cubic doors I had seen at the other areas of the facility. I began to walk fairly quickly over to them, looking around before placing my hands into the cracks of the doors. With all the force my model could muster, I pulled the doors open, sliding in through a small crack. A loud alarm was being emitted from this pod, too, and it emitted a red light into the small, dark capsule I had found myself inside. With little hesitation, I began to peruse the buttons on the panel beside the door. I read over them a variety of times, and stopped darting my view around after spotting “Ejection Procedure” in red letters. Without hesitation, I pushed the button, sitting back onto the cushioned seat in the pod.

#cyberpunk #Holo

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crushing-machine · 4 years ago

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The Best Guidance For Injection Molding Machine You've Ever Heard

table of Contents: 1 Overview 1.1 The purpose, type, specification and model of the injection molding machine 1.1.1 Purpose of injection molding machine 1.1.2 Types of injection molding machines 1.1.3 Specification and model representation 1.2 The structure of the injection molding machine 1.2.1 Injection system 1.2.2 Mold clamping system 1.2.3 Hydraulic drive and electrical control system 1.3 The main parameters of the injection molding machine 1.3.1 The main performance parameters of the injection molding machine 1.3.2 The main technical parameters of the injection molding machine 1.4 Principles and characteristics of injection process 1.4.1 Principle of injection process 1.4.2 Characteristics of injection process 1.5 Injection process 2. Injection system of injection molding machine 2.1 Type of injection system 2.2 Screw injection system 2.2.1 Features of screw injection system 2.2.2 Composition and working principle of screw injection system 2.2.3 The main components of the screw injection system 2.3 Plunger injection device 2.3.1 Features of plunger injection device 2.3.2 Composition and working principle of plunger injection system 2.3.3 The main components of the plunger injection system 3. The clamping system of the injection molding machine 3.1 Types of clamping systems 3.1.1 The composition of the clamping system 3.1.2 The characteristic requirements of the clamping system 3.1.3 Types of clamping system 3.2 Hydraulic clamping system 3.2.1 Single-cylinder direct pressure mold clamping device 3.2.2 Pressurized mold clamping device 3.2.3 Liquid-filled mold clamping device 3.2.4 Liquid-filled pressurized mold clamping device 3.2.5 Secondary action voltage stabilizing mold clamping device 3.3 Hydraulic and mechanical mold clamping device 3.3.1 Hydraulic? Single toggle mold clamping device 3.3.2 Hydraulic? Double toggle mold clamping device 3.4 The main components of the clamping system 3.4.1 Template 3.4.2 Tie rod 3.4.3 Mold adjusting device 3.4.4 Ejector device 3.5 The main technical parameters of the clamping system 4. Hydraulic control system of injection molding machine 4.1 The characteristics of the hydraulic control system of the injection molding machine 4.2 Composition of hydraulic system 4.3 Hydraulic components commonly used in injection molding machines 4.3.1 Hydraulic pump 4.3.2 Hydraulic motor 4.3.3 Hydraulic cylinder 4.3.4 Ordinary hydraulic valve 4.3.5 Electro-hydraulic proportional valve 4.3.6 Cartridge valve 4.3.7 Hydraulic auxiliary components 4.4 Analysis of typical control modules of injection molding machine hydraulic system 4.4.1 Main circuit module 4.4.2 Injection/pre-plastic control module 4.4.3 Clamping module 4.5 Examples of typical hydraulic systems for injection molding machines 4.5.1 Typical hydraulic system controlled by spool valve 4.5.2 The hydraulic system of the gear reducer drive screw preformed 4.5.3 The hydraulic system of the gear reducer drive screw pre-plasticized 5. The electrical control system of the injection molding machine 5.1 Controller of electrical control system 5.1.1 Traditional Relay 5.1.2 Programmable Controller 5.1.3 Single chip controller 5.1.4 Industrial PC 5.2 Injection molding machine electronic control system 5.2.1 Motor start control 5.2.2 Injection sequence control part 5.2.3 Temperature control of injection molding machine 6. Safety and protection measures of injection molding machine 6.1 Hazardous area of the injection molding machine 6.2 Safety protection device of injection molding machine 6.2.1 Safety devices and protection of the mold area 6.2.2 Safety device and protection of nozzle and barrel 6.2.3 Safety device and protection of mold 6.2.4 Electrical safety devices 6.2.5 Hydraulic safety device 6.2.6 Fixed safety door 6.3 Inspection of safety devices 7. Installation, adjustment and commissioning of the injection molding machine 7.1 Installation and adjustment of injection molding machine 7.1.1 Installation of injection molding machine 7.1.2 Adjustment during installation 7.1.3 Connection of cooling water pipes 7.1.4 Other installation matters 7.2 Test run of injection molding machine 7.2.1 Preparations before commissioning 7.2.2 No-load debugging 7.2.3 Mold clamping 7.2.4 Debugging of injection molded products 7.2.5 End of test run 8. Maintenance and maintenance of injection molding machine 8.1 Precautions for use 8.2 Maintenance of injection molding machine 8.2.1 Main points of daily maintenance 8.2.2 Weekly maintenance points 8.2.3 Points for regular maintenance 8.3 Lubrication of injection molding machine 8.4 Maintenance and cleaning of nozzles, barrels and screws 8.4.1 Cleaning the nozzle 8.4.2 Cleaning of barrel and screw 8.5 Adjustment of the sliding feet of the movable template 8.5.1 Adjustment of mechanical sliding foot device 8.5.2 Adjustment of hydraulic support sliding foot device 9. Troubleshooting of injection molding machine and solutions to product defects 9.1 Common faults and troubleshooting of injection molding machines 9.2 Measures to solve the quality defects of injection molded products If you want to get the operation guide, please leave us a message.LI SONG professional provide the plastic injection molding machine.Factory direct sales, quality assurance, and price concessions.if you are intrested,pls leave message to us or email:[email protected] sales manager will provide you with a quote within 24 hours.

article source:http://lisongmachine.com/news/industry-news/the-best-guidance-for-injection-molding-machine-you-have-not-ever-heard.html

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sere22world · 5 years ago

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What are the product characteristics and characteristics of the vertical injection molding machine?

What are the product characteristics and characteristics of the vertical injection molding machine? The vertical injection molding machine is controlled by a microcomputer, and the power system is driven by hydraulic pressure. The plastic is heated in the barrel by an electric heating ring and the barrel screw is rotated to produce shear, and then pre-molded, melted and injected into the cavity. After cooling, the mold is opened and the top The action is the product.

What are the product characteristics and characteristics of the vertical injection molding machine? The vertical injection molding machine is controlled by a microcomputer, and the power system is driven by hydraulic pressure. The plastic is heated by an electric heating coil and sheared by the rotation of the screw in the barrel, and then pre-molded, melted and injected into the cavity. After cooling, the mold is opened and the top The product can be obtained when the action is taken, and the machine can perform manual and semi-automatic production.

Product features of vertical injection molding machine:

1. Vertical column-free clamping, horizontal injection, the mold is open on three sides, the operation is more convenient and safer.

2. The injection pressure is large, controlled by a torque hydraulic motor, the screw torque is large, the amount of pre-plasticization is high, and the system pressure is controlled by a proportional valve.

3. Multi-stage pressure output, sensitive pressure response, precise and accurate.

4. Single, double slide and turntable system can be installed to improve production efficiency.

5. It is suitable for the production of large amount of ejaculation.

What are the product characteristics and characteristics of the vertical injection molding machine?

Features of vertical injection molding machine:

1. In the small batch trial production, the mold structure is simple, low cost, and easy to unload.

2. Easy to realize insert molding. Because the surface of the mold faces upwards, it is easy to insert and position the insert. If the lower template is fixed and the upper template is movable, and the belt conveyor and the robot are combined, fully automatic insert molding can be easily realized.

3. The weight of the mold is supported by the horizontal template to open and close up and down, and the phenomenon that the template cannot be opened and closed due to the gravity of the mold like a horizontal machine will not occur. It is conducive to maintaining the precision of machinery and molds.

4. Each plastic part cavity can be taken out by a simple manipulator, which is conducive to precision molding.

5. The general clamping device is surrounded by an open type, it is easy to configure various automatic devices, and is suitable for automatic molding of complex and delicate products.

6. The belt conveyor is easy to be installed in the middle of the mold, which is convenient for automatic molding production.

7. It is easy to ensure the resin fluidity in the mold and the consistency of mold temperature distribution.

8. Equipped with rotating table, moving table and inclined table, it is easy to realize insert molding and in-mold combination molding.

9. Having withstood the test of many earthquakes, the vertical machine has better seismic resistance than the horizontal machine due to its low center of gravity.

The above content is introduced by the Hisson vertical injection molding machine manufacturer. The company also provides: vertical injection molding machine, two-color injection molding machine, high-speed injection molding machine, connector injection molding machine, disc injection molding machine, plastic injection molding machine, injection molding machine, light touch Switch injection molding machine large injection molding machine, golf injection molding machine, glasses injection molding machine, vertical injection molding machine, vertical injection molding machine, etc. If you are interested in knowing more detailed vertical injection molding machine brand information

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warriorqueen1991 · 8 years ago

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What Fresh Hell (pt. Two)

Characters: Clyde Brenek X OC

Warnings: none yet ;)

Notes: please let me know if you want to be tagged :)

—————————————

Glaring at the silent bookworm sitting across from him once again, Clyde stewed in a pool of rage he hadn’t felt in years.

This was fucking insane

The timid woman refused to make eye contact, opting for picking at her short fingernails instead.

There was a slight sweet smell in the air around his companion.

Deep down

He hoped it was fear

Clyde coughed into the foam cup he held between his hands, black sludge oozing from his mouth as he wiped it away with his torn sleeve. His face and body still covered in dark blood, a long slash refusing to heal from his brow to his chin disappearing below his rags.

His once well put together ensemble was now shredded, dangling from his arms and chest in sheets.

The bookworm sniffed rubbing her arm nervously

“I’m so sorry”

The small whisper might as well of been a shout in the quiet confines of Clyde’s kitchen.

He grimaced dabbing away more black ooze.

“sorry?” he growls

He shakes his head in disbelief, a sarcastic chuckle vibrating up from his chest.

“sorry is something you say to the stranger you bump into on the bus. Or when you pronounce someone’s name wrong…”

He frowns at her “sorry sure as shit ain’t what you tell someone you take to a surprise game of operation”

She’s trembling still avoiding his gaze “I…I didn’t know they were gonna show up”

He leans forward tapping his finger on the table baring his now pointed teeth “I don’t care, I want fucking answers” he growled.

“I sa…”

Clyde raised his eyebrows as she fought to get the words out.

“I….” she sighed “I saved your life…”

Clyde’s face hardened his eyes flashing red in anger “you’ve got to be fucking kidding me” he shook his head rubbing his hand down his face, pulling away in disgust as the action only smeared the black substance dripping from his mouth to his chin.

“It’s not like I was drowning, lady…I wasn’t hanging onto some ledge” he gestured behind him in frustration “my fucking intestines were spread from the damn Espresso machine to the fucking restrooms”.

He let out a pained wheeze

Leaning forward he once again coughed up dark blood into the cup, pushing it aside ware four more had been placed.

“I was dead” he hissed “…I was about as dead as someone could’ve possibly been, then you drag me back and now…” he scoffs pulling at his shredded shirt “now I’m in constant pain, and I’ve been coughing up this shit for the past…” he lifted his wrist wiping the now drying blood off his watch “hour and a half…so you can imagine why I don’t appreciate your help”.

She frowned “but…you protected me?”

He ran his hand through his sticky hair “well obviously I wasn’t expecting to be torn apart by Gomez and Morticia Addams either”

He rubbed his temples in frustration as his eyes flickered from there normal hazel to glowing red “da hell did you do to me?” he groaned.

“I injected my blood into your corpse” she whispered looking up at him as his lips curled back in disgust.

“so what the hell are you?”

She shifted slightly in her chair smiling briefly “my name’s Katrina but my friends call me…”

“I don’t care”

Her lips snapped shut her eyes dropping to the table.

Clyde’s jaw ticked “we are not friends…this right here..” he gestured between them “this isn’t what you build relationships on”.

He let out a pained groan scooting his chair back to rub his bare side “but as pissed as I am..” he narrowed his eyes at her “I got a feeling you knew exactly who I was when you tumbled into that diner”

She glanced up at him with a nod, grunting in reply he gave a rough cough “…so I’m guessing you had something in mind for me besides taking a bullet for you”.

She sighed in confirmation “it’s called The Devil’s Halo, it gives the demon who wears it limitless power…I escaped when I overheard that Tilla and Zule were seeking it out”.

Clyde nodded “the picture you showed me”

She nodded “it’s true, I knew who you were…”

“they called me Shield, why?” he growled, once again interrupting her.

Katrina rolled her lips biting her tongue “it’s a term the ones below use when referring to those who are capable of sustaining demonic essence”.

Clyde sighed “and what the hell would cause that?”

She scooted closer to the table “well…you’ve..uh…you’ve fought demons before”

“what?…no” he snapped wide eyed “I didn’t fight anything, I was protecting my daughter…I was fucking useless, Tzadok did the fighting and he paid for it later”

Katrina gave a soft sad smile “when you called Abyzou out of your child and took him within yourself…it…it changed your biology…it’s unoticable by humans but…” she shrugged “to us your kinda hard to miss” she let a small giggle escape.

He glared at her “and your blood, what did it do?”

Her smile faded “uh…it..it enhanced your body with demonic essence…the uh…effects may very, possessions are quite common but willing vessels are rare…your quite special” she mumbled.

“oh great” he growled, his eyes flashing “so what now?”

She sniffed “I could really use your help”

“you didn’t give me much of a choice”

She ducked her head “I am very sorry Clyde but you’re the only chance I have at stopping them” she shook her head “if they get the halo were all doomed”.

He glanced over at the clock, 1:45 am he hummed

“are you a demon?”

Katrina stared at him, she looked terrified “no”

He nodded getting to his feet with a sigh “I’ll help you”

She bit her lip, a small smile pulling at her lips “thank yo…”

He growled cutting her gratitude short

He ran his hand through his messy hair with a grimace, his shoulders stiffening as he held up his hand “but…” he snarled baring his long fangs letting his eyes burn “afterwards, you fix this” he jabbed his finger at his face.

“I refuse to be this…this…thing” he grit his teeth closing his eyes.

She shook her head, her eyes wide “you’ll die”.

“Fine” He breathed “shit happens…I can accept that, my life’s not worth much anyway”

She frowned but nodded “ok”

She was desperate, if she lost him she was doomed to fail. For now it was in her best interest to just do what he said.

He nodded wiping his face as he stalked down the hall “we’ll leave tomorrow”

Wait what?

she stood up quickly knocking her chair to the hardwood floor “where are you going?”

“I’m taking a fucking shower…smells like something died in here”

The door to his bathroom slammed shut making her flinch.

She let her eyes drop to the floor as she rubbed her arm

“thank you” she whispered a single tear trailing down her pale cheek as the storm continued to rage beyond the windows.

“thank you”

《》《》《》《》《》《》

Black and red water swirled down the drain at Clyde’s feet, his skin had knitted itself together just enough so that his guts could function.

His torso was littered with deep red scars, one large scar wrapped around the left side of his throat, the long gash down his face now fully revealed ran clear to the bottom of his pec.

He looked like a damn voodoo doll

His fucking eyes burned, he gasped scrubbing his face as more blood dripped from his lips swirling down amongst the rest.

Groaning he pressed his forehead against the tile.

He was dead

Or should be…

Or would be…

He shook his head

What would the girls think, what about Stephanie? would she even care or would they all let out a collective sigh of relief?

They had all been so close the following year after Emily’s possession, but things just slide down hill from there. Emily was plagued with nightmares and paranoia that she had to be hospitalized for.

Clyde himself had retreated to his work… having your body hijacked by a malevolent force was something he would never forget.

And the death of Tzadok… that man had went above and beyond to help him and it got him killed.

He’d still be alive if it wasn’t for him

Even now that damn box was probably out there destroying someone else’s life.

His eyes opened slightly, there deep red glow dancing out between his lashes.

Happy endings didn’t exist

Happy endings were just stories that hadn’t finished yet.

He coughed spitting blood out onto the tile with a pained grunt. Sliding his hand through his hair bloody water poured down his abdomen.

This was all just so fucked up

Leaning back against the wall he slid down it wrapping his arms around his knees.

This is what he gets for being kind

Why couldn’t he just be an asshole

************

After spending more than an hour scrubbing his scarred body he finally stepped out of the shower.

Wrapping a black towel around his waist he glanced up at the mirror glaring at his monstrous appearance, he growled baring his newly acquired fangs slamming his fist into the mirror.

The glass exploded shattering down around his sink.

Looking down at his knuckles he grimaced as streaks of black pulsed down around the freshly opened wound. Pieces of glass slowly pushing from his flesh clinking down into the sink as his skin began stitching itself back together. Clyde examined his hand

Hmmm…ok

well that certainly could come in handy

••••••••••••••••••

Walking down the hall in just his gray shirt and black sweatpants Clyde entered the living room.

Katrina was curled up on his couch her legs pulled up to her chest in the fetal position.

He shook his head

Her hair had fallen behind her head revealing her fair features fully to his wandering gaze. Her body was slim and soft…

She really was gorgeous

He ran his tongue across his lip, scratching his cheek before shaking his head.

As far as he was concerned she was a snake in the grass

Her shy and innocent facade was a trick… he could feel it, he trusted her about as far as he could throw her and if she backed out on their deal he’d kill her himself.

She shifted slightly, her arms hugging herself firmly as she shivered.

Rolling his eyes to the ceiling he sighed bending over to drape the gray throw blanket over her sleeping form.

She snuggled into its warmth with a small smile.

Shit

This is the kind of crap that got him into this mess.

Growling he plopped himself down in his recliner eyeing her suspiciously, leaning his chin on his hand he watched her sleep.

He’d be damned if he let his guard down around this creature.

Then again…he already was

¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤

☆TAG LIST☆

@noodlecupcakes @zoesmama2024 @artemisxeros @dixonsbait @jdmfanfiction @jdms-network @ashzombie13

#jdm #jeffrey dean morgan rarechar #jeffrey dean morgan #the possession #clyde brenek #my fic #clyde X oc

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tisfan · 8 years ago

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Stark Raving Mad

Chapter Six of that Tony Stark/Victor Von Doom fic that nobody asked for...

To Victor goes the Spoils | A Stark Reminder | Doom’s Day Scenario | Stark Truth | Doom and Despair

Drinking didn’t help.

Tony had known it wouldn’t, it never had. But sometimes in the bottom of the bottle, Tony had found a little forgetfulness, a little numbness.

Not this time; no amount of single-malt cut the pain. There was no fog or relief with an empty glass. There were some pretty epic hangovers, however. Sometimes he could disguise the anguish in his chest in a throbbing headache and muscle spasms. Dealing with a brain that wanted to shrink to the size of a walnut and hide under the bed was easier than thinking.

He started living for those few moments in between dreaming and waking, when he felt strong, warm arms around him. Heard a lightly accented voice in his ear, telling him everything was going to be all right.

And then he would slide his hand across the cool sheets, seeking a warm, familiar shape, pretending that his lover was just out of reach, instead of half the world away. Half the world and an impenetrable wall of lies and misunderstandings away.

At least night was only half the time.

Tony couldn’t decide if sleep was the enemy or his best solace. Sleeping eased the pain; in sleep he could forget, and even if his dreams were haunted, or he’d wake up hard and aching and reaching, he wasn’t in agony while sleeping. On the other hand, during his waking hours, he got… used to it. The pain didn’t lessen, he didn’t feel better, but he did grow accustomed to it. By the time he was awake for eighteen hours, he could better carry the load. Sleep… reset his tolerance.

Waking up was the worst. The constant hangover probably didn’t help, but he couldn’t give any of it up.

I wish I could quit you.

[Mobile readers, ware the readmore line, or catch the whole story at A03 [x] ]

He’d thought walking away was the hardest thing he’d ever done. It wasn’t. Staying away, now that was hard, and each day, each hour, it was a decision he had to make all over again, because it wouldn’t take that long, or even that much effort, to be in the suit, across the sea, and on his fucking knees in front of Victor Von Doom, begging to be taken back.

He’s the one who should apologize.

Didn’t matter, in the end. This was something Tony could not have.

“Your boyfriend’s in the papers again,” Clint said, one morning -- well, actually it was more like early evening, but fuck it, if it was Tony’s first goddamn cup of coffee, it was morning.

“What?” The coffee slopped over the edge of the mug, searing Tony’s fingers. He hissed, stuck his fingers in his mouth out of instinct and that was even more painful. Eventually he got himself together enough to run his hand under some cold water. “What are you even talking about, Barton?”

No one knew. No one could ever know.

“Doom,” Clint said. He brandished the paper at Tony. “Didn’t he kidnap you recently?”

“Tony’s been kidnapped so many times, it kinda slips his mind,” Natasha pointed out.

“I’m not really susceptible to Stockholm Syndrome,” Tony managed, heart beating in his throat. Why was Victor in the papers. “If I was, there’d be a lot more Ten Rings fanatics in the world.”

“Well, thank God for that,” Steve said. He was buttering an English muffin and smearing more jam on it than any five people should have been able to eat.

Why was everyone else eating breakfast at… Tony checked the clock. Oh. It actually was six-thirty in the morning. He was getting his days and nights all backward, trying to stay awake as long as possible and then falling on his face from exhaustion, only to crawl out of bed unrested and weary. Had he ever been awake at this time of day on purpose before in his life? Probably, but he couldn’t remember why he’d want to do that.

“Why?”

“Why what?” Everyone had just continued on with their day as if nothing earth shattering was happening at all.

Tony counted prime numbers backward from ten thousand. “Why is Doom in the papers?”

“Oh, some pappas managed to get a pic of his face,” Clint said. “Can you believe it? I thought that guy was supposed to be all scared up and hideous.”

What? “What?” Tony snatched the paper up and spread it out on the table. “That can’t be real.”

Doom Unmasked

Actually a series of photographs; Doom’s hands at his throat, unhooking the mask. Sitting at a desk, face covered by his hands, as if weary. Or grieving. A final shot, a little blurry, but recognizable.

Victor.

“I didn’t think a photographer would get close enough to Castle Doom to get a picture,” Steve said. “Doesn’t he shoot foreigners on sight? Him and those Doombots.”

“I think it’s a fake,” Sam said. “The real Doom would have strung up a photographer on the nearest spike and let his guts spill out.”

He’s not like that, Tony wanted to protest. At least not anymore.

“That’s lovely breakfast conversation,” Tony snarked, his tone a little more hostile than he’d meant it to be. He folded up the paper and tucked it under his arm. “I’ll be in the shop. If anyone needs me… too fucking bad.”

“What was your involvement in the Latveria conflict, Mr. Stark?” Christine Everhart smiled at him, her teeth looking like a shark’s grin rather than anything like a human expression.

“I accompanied the Fantastic Four, on rumors of stolen Stark Industries weapons tech being obtained by the Latverian government,” Tony said. He had a whole handful of printed cards; but you’d think Pepper would stop handing him that kind of bullshit, because he was never going to deliver a speech based on what some PR buffoon wrote down. If she wanted the spin to go her way, she needed to give the goddamn speech herself and leave him out of it. It didn’t even matter that the reporters wanted Iron Man, it’s not like she hadn’t made excuses on his behalf before.

“But that’s not what you found?”

“I’m sure you already know the answer to that,” Stark said, giving her his best cheeky grin. He’d always been good at playing the press, smiling on the outside, but this was the first time his press smile actually physically hurt his face, plastering it on there.

“Our intelligence was somewhat lacking,” Tony said. “Indeed, Latveria had acquired Stark Industries tech, but it was for energy and not a weaponized system.”

“But isn’t the arc-reactor capable of immense destruction?”

“As we saw,” Tony said. “As a result of --”

“Von Doom’s issued a public statement,” another reporter, Ben Urich called out. Christine gave him a death glare, but it didn’t shut Urich up at all. Now that was an investigative reporter. “Were you aware, Mr. Stark, that he claimed both that the reactor meltdown was an accident and that you -- acting as Iron Man -- saved his country?”

“Well, I’d say that’s pretty much true,” Tony responded, a little stunned. The current emotions surrounding the event had been pretty hostile and Tony was expecting reparations to be demanded, at the very least. Not to mention the expectations that Johnny Storm might be accused of war crimes.

“Do you consider yourself to be working with Dr. Doom?” Christine butted in.

“In the case of saving the world, then yes, ma’am,” Tony said. He knew she hated it when he called her ma’am. He made a point to do so as often as possible. “I’m pretty much willing to work with just about anyone for that goal.”

That seemed like a good line to walk out on, so Tony did.

“No,” Cap said. Tony could tell it was Cap and not Steve talking because Steve usually leaned in doorways when he was mad, contemplative, or just being a pain in Tony’s ass.

Cap, on the other hand, was all six-foot three-inches worth of patriotic self-righteousness, and someone had taught him, decades before Tony was born, that hands on the hips was a good leadership look. Cap had learned that lesson pretty well. It always made Tony sort of want to do the Macarena, but whatever.

“Well, I didn’t ask you to the spring dance or anything so --”

“Tony, just stop,” Steve said, and it was all Steve again, and really, the personality changes were going to give Tony whiplash if it kept happening. “You’re drunk, you’re erratic, and I’m not letting you go on this call.”

“You’re not the director of me,” Tony said. He wasn’t that drunk. Was he? Not like he hadn’t done the superhero shtick fucked up drunk on a couple of occasions. One of those occasions was how Rhodey ended up with War Machine. He thought that was planned, but maybe Rhodey did, actually, kick Tony’s ass. Tony couldn’t quite remember anymore, and that was weird because usually Tony’s memory was pretty damn good.

“Maybe not,” Steve said, “but I am the leader of this team, and as such, I’m not going to let you endanger them, yourself, or civilians by operating a battle suit under the influence.”

“Don’t really see how you can stop me, Stars and Bars,” Tony snapped. “I was doing the superhero gig while you were still getting your beauty sleep.”

There was a sharp prick at the base of his neck. “Aaand I was in spy school before you built your first suit with tin cans and paper clips, Tony. I’m sorry, but Steve’s right.” Natasha said. “You’re a hazard right now.” The world got a little… bendy around the edges.

“I’m not so very… drunk… Melly,” Tony said.

Steve blinked a few times. “Hey, I understood that reference,” he said. He shook his head. “Sorry, Tony. Not this time. JARVIS, shut him down. I want a legal BAC before you let him fly anywhere.”

“I understand, Captain,” JARVIS said.

Well, that was interesting. Understanding was not the same as obeying. Tony waved a hand in front of his face, dismissing Captain Stick-up-his-ass.

The Quinjet was up and gone by the time Tony managed to stagger off the landing platform. JARVIS obeying Steve or not, Tony couldn’t fly in these conditions. What the fuck had Nat injected him with anyway, ketamine?

“Sir,” JARVIS said, “Much as it pains me to agree with the Captain under these circumstances…”

“Yeah, I gotcha, buddy,” Tony said. He stumbled and if JARVIS hadn’t been holding the suit in his control like a toddler, Tony would have gone straight onto his face and probably broken his nose while he was at it. “No superheroing while under the influence…”

“If you don’t mind a suggestion, sir,” JARVIS said, “you might find some peace of mind if you will allow me --”

The bendy edges of the world went… bendier. Was that even possible? He was going to kill Nat. Or at least, use a bleach-filled water pistol on all her clothes. “Sure, buddy,” Tony said. “Whatever… you… want.”

JARVIS closed the faceplate. “Just sleep, sir,” JARVIS said, sympathetic. That was nice. Tony could use some sympathy these days, since all he was getting from his team was sarcasm and resentment. “I’ll wake you when we arrive.”

“Sure….” Tony closed his eyes. JARVIS could fly. JARVIS was his co-pilot.

“Is there some particular reason you decided to camp me out halfway up a tree in… where the fuck are we?” Tony demanded. Waking up in bed with a hangover was bad enough, really. He needed to get right on programing JARVIS with pain receptors or something, because honestly, this was a little too much…

“There were patrols,” JARVIS explained. “And I did not wish to engage with Latverian forces at this time, sir.”

Latveria. “Latveria? JARVIS, why the fuck did --”

“Sir, while I do not claim to understand human sexual relationships, I cannot help but observe that you have been suffering through the fallout of the events here, not that terribly long ago.” JARVIS overrode him.

“It wasn’t that long ago,” Tony protested. “I think I’m allowed to grieve.”

“I don’t disagree, sir,” JARVIS said. “But perhaps some observation might give you some closure.”

“I don’t think stalking the evil dictator of a fascist nation is what they mean by closure,” Tony said.

“I don’t believe evil dictator of a fascist nation is what you mean by Victor Von Doom,” JARVIS responded.

“I did not program you to be a relationship counselor,” Tony noted. “Scrap heap. Teaching math to third graders.”

“Of course, sir,” JARVIS said. “I have long since yearned to help younger minds who are not quite so set in their ways.”

Ow.

“That was hurtful, buddy,” Tony said.

“In point of fact, sir, I do not intend for you to stalk your lover,” JARVIS said. “I merely thought you might wish to look at what’s become of the country that you saved.”

Oh. Well, that might be okay. He could see what Doom had done in the last few months, go back to hating him, and everything would be fine. The world and reality would return to what he knew and maybe he could get on with forgetting a few nights of passion. And, really, that’s all it was. In the grand scheme of things, the twenty-three days that they’d actually spent together were tiny, less than 0.002% of Tony’s entire life. And even if one recalculated for the time they weren’t in the same bed, but, at least for Tony, Victor had been almost the entirety of his thoughts… he was still only talking about 0.06%. Hardly worth the heartache.

Except that you love him.

Tony skimmed around the countryside, stopping from time to time to observe village life. All the cities and towns were named Doom-something. Doomburg, Doommanor, Doomsville. Doom’s ancestors were hardly the creative types. (He was ignoring Starkphones and the Starktower and… yeah, okay, so he wasn’t ignoring it, and maybe he didn’t have any room to judge.)

It… wasn’t what he’d expected.

The work that he’d seen laid out in the warehouse was continuing. Slower, perhaps. The loss of the arc-reactor for power had made other plans necessary. Huge swaths of forest were tagged for removal, to set up solar panel projects. All of the new buildings had hydro-power or solar panels set up. Clean, renewable energy.

Latveria had always had a generally lower jobless rate than other countries, but now, Tony was seeing more and more social improvements. Latveria was moving out of the wealthy middle ages and into the middle-class modern age.

It was… intriguing.

“Compile news reports of Von Doom’s activities, since the incident,” Tony said. “Summarize.”

“If you will accept my analysis, sir,” JARVIS said, “Von Doom has changed. I believe his renunciation of world conquering to be sincere. His most recent efforts, dating, I dare say, from his first encounter with you at the Van Dyne masquerade ball, have been to bettering the lives of his people.”

“Could it be a trick?” Tony wanted to believe that, but at the same time, what actually the hell? Victor changing, for what? For Tony Stark? Ridiculous. Tony was what absolutely no one would call a role model. In fact, his teammates would probably rupture something, laughing, if anyone suggested it.

“Years of associating with humans have left me with few illusions, sir,” JARVIS said. “Anything could be a trick, or a trap. But you might ask yourself, a trap for whom? And why? Von Doom is going through rather a lot of effort, and if you’ll forgive me for saying it, what wouldn’t result in much benefit to anyone, if it was an ambush.”

What gain a man the world, only to lose his soul?

Well, it would gain a man the world. But Victor seemed to have turned his back on the world… to regain a soul, perhaps. That wasn’t an unworthy goal.

“All right,” Tony said. “Let’s see what he does with a little help.”

“Sir?”

“Replace the arc-reactor,” Tony said. “Call it a gift, or a tax-deduction. Let’s see what he actually does with one, if he’s got it.”

“Of course, sir,” JARVIS said. “I’ll place the order at once.”

“You owe me,” Tony said. He planted one hand on the kitchen table. “And don’t try to wiggle out of it, either.”

“I --”

“You’ve stabbed me in the neck more than once now,” Tony pointed out, “and I have yet to repulsor you in the face, no matter how much I’d really like to.”

“What is it you want me to do?”

“Go to Latveria. Be a tourist or something. He’s allowing tourists, these days.”

“And while I’m there?”

“Get a feel for the land. See what the people think. Do an analysis on the government, the economy.”

“To bring it down?” Natasha asked, brightening.

“No. Just report it. And leave your bias at the door. I want to know what Doom’s really up to.”

“And what will you be doing for the next few months, while I put this together?”

“Drying out,” Tony admitted. “I need to check in to rehab, otherwise, I’d do it myself.”

Natasha softened at that. She actually put her hand out and touched his wrist. “Are you going to tell anyone what happened?”

“Yes,” Tony said. “Just not you. Tony Stark, not recommended. Remember?”

Natasha winced. “Would it help if I said I’m sorry?”

“I honestly don’t know what I’d do with that, Ginger Snaps,” Tony said. “No one ever says they’re sorry to me.”

Natasha’s report was thorough. Favorable. If it was a trap, Doom as doing an awful lot of upgrades to his country in a non-military fashion. If it was a trap… the world might benefit from such a leader.

Tony thought about getting a hotel.

Going back to where they started, maybe. He had fond memories of that hotel.

But no, if they were going to move forward, it was time to actually move forward. Start new, fresh. No more lies. No more hiding.

“Send the package, J,” Tony said.

There were, Tony thought, several possibilities.

Dozens of scenarios and reasons. But it boiled down to a Schrodinger’s cat scenario. Either Victor would come.

Or he wouldn’t.

Either there was love. Or there wasn’t.

Tony didn’t bother to dress up; he wasn’t going to wait around like some modern day Miss Havisham. Comfortable pants and a tee were good enough for the Avengers; a sport coat sometimes if he was leaving the building. His sneakers. And if he had engine grease on his face, so be it. Tinkering in the workshop passed the time.

He wasn’t going to be anyone else anymore. No more masks. No more lies.

Okay, so he was totally waiting around.

Shut up, okay?

“Sir,” JARVIS interrupted his thoughts. “Victor Von Doom is inboard to the Tower. Two minute warning.”

Tony’s heart rate increased and he had to swallow a sudden bout of nerves. “Where’s he landing?”

“Current trajectory indicates penthouse landing platform, sir,” JARVIS said.

“Let him in.” Tony didn’t have to move. He could just stay right there he was, on the sofa, drinking his sparkling water and pretending that he wasn’t a recovering alcoholic. Pretending to be casual. Pretending the outcome of this meeting wasn’t going to change his life, perhaps even more drastically than Afghanistan had.

Von Doom came down on the platform in a superhero™ landing. Good thing the floor there was reinforced to take the full weight of the Hulkbuster, otherwise he might have cracked the pavement. Green cloak billowed out behind him, dramatic.

Von Doom raised one hand and touched the stud under his jaw, removed his mask. With a negligent flick of the wrist, he threw it aside where it clattered up against the rails. Pushed back his hood.

He was so beautiful.

Tony had meant to stay where he was. Calm. Cool. Collected. Fuck it. The glass of water spilled, unheeded, to the floor. He was on his feet and practically running to the door. He managed to get himself under control when his hand was on the knob, but still, he threw the door open.

“I see you found the address,” Tony said, letting a sly smirk touch his mouth.

“Tony, I --”

“Victor,” Tony said, and the sound of Victor’s name on his tongue stilled both of them for a long, long moment. They stared at each other. Drank in the sight. God, this was… I love him. And I am never going to love anyone else again. “We… need to talk.”

Victor nodded, slow. He reached out a hand, peeled off his armored gauntlet and offered Tony his hand. “We should,” he said. “Thank you, for inviting me.”

Tony touched Victor’s hand and the warm reality of it nearly drove him to his knees. Iron. Stark men are iron. If the talk went well, there would be plenty of time for him to be on his knees later. If it went poorly… well, he would like to skip the embarrassment of remembering how badly he wanted this. “You’re welcome.”

And he meant more than simple acknowledgement of thanks, he meant… you are welcome. In my home. In my life. In my heart. “Please. Come inside.”

#IronDoom #Tony Stark #victor von doom #tony x victor #that fic no one wanted #but a lot of people seem to like #Iron Man #Doctor Doom

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