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thetriumphantpanda · 7 months

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one kiss is all it takes | javier peña

Take The Weight Off His Shoulders - Chapter Four

Chapter Summary | All of the tension between you & Javi comes to a head when you're gathered at the Peña ranch to celebrate Chucho's birthday.

Chapter Warnings | Consumption of food & alcohol, some angst, heavy on the flirting, discussion of drugs & the drug trade but nothing else.

Pairing | dbf!Javier Peña x F!Reader

Word Count | 3.2k

Authors Note | Well. I am having far too much fun with these guys. I hope you guys are still enjoying this. Just wanted to give a huge shoutout to @undercoverpena for helping me brainstorm this chapter and figure it out when I was struggling and for just being my biggest hype woman. If you're enjoying this then reblogs and comments really do help and if you’d like to support me further, please consider a donation to my Ko-Fi.

I no longer use taglists. Please follow @thetriumphantpandanotifs to be notified of new updates.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi | Series Playlist

It’s Chucho’s birthday and it feels like the entirety of Laredo has descended on the Peña ranch. He’s currently sitting on one of the chairs that’s been set out on the back porch, beer in hand, talking to some of his friends from the ranch association. You’ve already been over, wished him a happy birthday with a kiss on the cheek, and pressed a small gift bag into his hand from the rest of the family. The bag is sitting between his feet, and you know he’ll take it in with him later to open on his own. Never one for a fuss, was Chucho.

Other townsfolk are walking around, or standing in smaller groups, drinking or eating from the spread of food everyone had contributed to. You’re currently sat with your mom, who is talking to some of the women she works with. It’s dull conversation, but you try your best to look at least semi-interested when a question is thrown your way. You’re focused on something else though. Your eyes have been searching through the sea of people for one person, and one person only. Javi. And he’s nowhere to be seen. You bring the bottle of beer you’ve been drinking to your lips, tip it up, but find it empty.

“I’m just going to get another drink.” You mumble to excuse yourself from the group around you.

They all smile at you but quickly return to their conversations once you start stepping away. The relief from the cool interior of the house is welcome, as you open the fridge and root through it for another drink. You close the fridge door gently, plucking the magnetic bottle opener off the front when you hear muffled voices coming from down the hall.

“You know,” You can just make out, so you take gentle steps to the edge of the kitchen to hear better, “If you were looking for something else, we could always use you back on the force.” It’s your dad, and you bet you know exactly who he’s talking to.

“Go back to shining lights into teenagers’ cars whilst they’re making out and busting petty criminals?” That’s definitely Javi, “That’s not really my scene anymore.”

You can hear your dad sigh a little, “It’s not really like that anymore,” He offers, “You must know by now we’ve got some kind of drug epidemic here, we can’t seem to crack it, I bet you could blow this whole thing wide open for us.”

Javi scoffs, you press yourself further into the wall, knowing you should walk away, this isn’t your conversation to hear, “Even more reason for me to stay away,” He answers, “I couldn’t crack it down there, and if it’s anything like that here, it’s going to go far deeper than you could ever imagine.”

Your dad sighs again, louder this time, because he’s clearly fighting a losing battle, “Well, the offer is there, think about, huh?”

All Javi does is grunt in response, which you think is akin to something like ‘thanks, but no thanks’, then you hear footsteps coming down the hallway. You don’t move quickly enough to dart back through the doors but do manage to make yourself as inconspicuous as possible at the kitchen island as your dad rounds the corner.

“I didn’t know you were in here.” He speaks, fishing his own new drink out of the fridge.

“Just came to get another drink,” You smile, trying to make your voice loud enough that Javi can hear that you’re inside too, “It’s pretty hot out there.”

Your dad clinks his bottle with yours as he moves to head back outside, “Cool off, but don’t hide away in here, okay?”

You nod and smile as he heads back outside, but you don’t make a move to follow him. After last week, when Javi pressed his lips to your cheek, you haven’t been able to think of much else. Surely, if he’d come all the way to fetch you, brought you food and kissed your cheek, that must mean something? You’d felt absolutely crazy trying to explain it to Liv, recounting your conversation, trying to get her advice on what it meant. She’d been entirely unhelpful, telling you that you were reading too much into it, but she had told you Victor was nice, so you weren’t in the habit of trusting her at the moment.

You stand at the kitchen island for a while, praying that he would come to you, talk to you, even just say hello, anything would do, but he doesn’t. He stays wherever he is, doing whatever he’s doing, leaving you standing there like someone had stood you up. You sigh, pick up your beer and head back outside.

It’s probably an hour later, you’re back sitting with your mom and her friends, when he emerges from the house, his own drink in hand. He makes eye contact with you, but when you smile at him, he doesn’t return it, just turns and walks over to the first group of people he can find, almost completely ignoring your presence. It hurts, is what you think, makes your heart sink a little.

You see him a few times over the next couple of hours as people start slowly heading off. It’s still warm outside, but the sun is starting to set, painting the ranch in a soft orange glow. Your mom and dad left about an hour ago, leaving you where you there to help tidy up. The plan had been for all of you to stay, but your mom had indulged in one too many glasses of wine and needed to nap.

The crowd had thinned out significantly now, so you think it’s a good a time as any to try and tidy up the porch a bit. There’s a rubbish bag hanging from the railing, there’s a few actually, that you think Javi must have set out in order to keep mess to a minimum, so you start picking up the empty bottles and used paper plates, stuffing them in until it’s full. You move some of the furniture around, back to how you know Chucho likes it.

“You don’t have to help with this.”

You turn around, and for the first time Javi is looking at you, talking to you, but still won’t quite meet your eyes, choosing to busy himself with gathering the trash from the other side of the porch.

“I don’t mind,” You shrug, walking over to help him out a little, picking up some more paper plates to shove into the bag, “Doesn’t seem right to leave you to tidy the place on your own after allowing half the town to come over.”

He doesn’t really respond after that, silently shuffles around, refusing to meet your eyes. It drives you wild, because there’s no way you’d made up the signals he’d been giving in the car. No-one kisses your cheek if they don’t want you.

Once the porch is clear of clutter, Javi makes a beeline for the trash bag that’s full, leaning down to pick it up. You follow his movements, reaching down to circle his wrist with your hand, trying to be gentle with him. You’re not expecting him to snatch his arm away from you like you’d just branded him with a hot poker. He even steps back away from you, turning his back slightly, although you can see one of his hands come to his mouth, fingers running over his facial hair and down his chin, other hand on his hip. You think you hear him mutter something under his breath that sounds a lot like ‘don’t’.

You stand there, dumbfounded if anything. Why is he being so different with you? Hot, angry tears are forming across your waterline, because you’re embarrassed, embarrassed that you’d played into him leading you on. To try and hide the fact you’re about to cry, you turn on your heel, stomping, albeit quite dramatically, around the side of the porch when you feel him grab your wrist, pulling you around so you’re facing him. Nowhere to hide now, you think, giving him your face, letting him see the tears he’s caused.

“What?” You spit, tearing your hand out of his grip, much like he’d done to you just moments before.

“Just… wait.” He says hands up in defense.

So you do, you stand there and wait, shifting your weight from foot to foot, watching as he leans back more of his weight on his back leg, hand rest on the top of his jeans, mouth opening and closing as he tries to think of what to say.

“You know what?” You scoff, “I’m so fucking embarrassed, Javi,” You can feel your bottom lip start to wobble, more frustrated tears threatening to fall, “I thought-” You start, running a hand over your cheek to wipe away the tears that are forming, “I thought I was picking up on these signals between us,” You motion your hand between the two of you, “Thought maybe you felt the same way about me, I mean, who kisses someone’s cheek and tells them there’s nothing wrong with them if they don’t mean it, right?” You can hear yourself, sniffling through the tears, voice getting quicker and higher in pitch as he just… stands there, “God,” You chuckle, “I really thought I’d stop embarrassing myself at some point, but clearly fucking not.”

He's still not saying anything, and you’re sick to death of making yourself feel and look like a fool in front of him, so you turn on your heel again, walking away, when yet again his hand circles your wrist and pulls you back to him, but this time, you don’t stop by just turning around to him, he’s tugging at you, pulling you closer, and then all of a sudden his lips are on yours. It’s quick, almost over before you can even register what’s happened, but there was no mistaking the feel of his lips pressed to yours. The tickle of the hair on his upper lip against the skin under your nose.

When he pulls away, you’re dumbfounded, mouth open in shock, “You kissed me.” Is all you can say, voice high with shock.

“I did.”

“Then what the fuck was all that back there?” You ask, incredulous and confused, head spinning with what’s going on.

All he does is shrug, seemingly unable to explain himself, which makes you more annoyed. Is he fucking with you? All you wish he would do is tell you what the fuck is going on in his brain, what he’s thinking, why he’s behaving in this way.

“Tell me,” You demand, “Tell me, or I’m going to get in my car and leave.”

And he’s standing there, and you think you can see the cogs working behind his eyes. His mouth is doing that thing again where it opens and closes without him saying anything. He brings a hand up to brush over his brow, but he still doesn’t say anything. You’d had enough. If he didn’t have the decency to be frank with you, like you’d been with him, then you guess you had your answer.

For the third time that evening, you turn around and start walking, heading for the steps at the front of the house. He doesn’t try and grab your wrist this time, doesn’t try and touch you, but you can hear his footsteps behind you. You can see your car in front of you, you reach into the pocket of your shorts, fingers hitting the keys when you finally hear his voice.

“I’m trying to be good, alright?” He calls out to you, “Better,” he offers then, “I’m trying to be better and I just…. Fuck, I hate this.”

And really that’s all you needed. You needed him to try. To try and explain his behaviour, to tell you why he was giving you these mixed signals. So you turn, walk the few steps back towards him, take his face in your hands and plant a kiss right on his lips.

It’s like it breaks the dam that the two of you had been trying to hold back, because his hands are on your back, one resting just above the waistband of your shorts, the other fisting at the material between your shoulder blades as he really kisses you this time. Your hands drop to the collar of his shirt, pulling him in closer as you open your mouth against his, let his tongue finally touch yours, pressing your body as close to his as you can possibly get it. You can feel the tension of your shirt being pulled from behind. It’s like he has to fist the material because he wants to touch you, wants to put his hands on your skin under the material, but knows he can’t.

When you pull away, both breathless, he leans down, rests his forehead to yours, eyes closed.

“I don’t want you to be good, Javi,” You whisper, “I want you to want me.”

He opens his eyes then, big chocolate orbs that are pleading with you, “I do,” He answers honestly, “I want you so much, querida, and that’s the problem.”

“I know.” You try and soothe, but really, it’s all lost now isn’t it, there’s no going back from here.

Almost like you both finally realise you’re in the open air at the same time, you both step away from each other. Your hands coming to pull your shirt back into position, Javi doing the same with the collar of his shirt. You run your thumb over your bottom lip where you can feel the wetness from the kiss, wiping it away.

“I should go,” You say softly, motioning your head to the car, and he doesn’t argue, because he knows you should too, because if you stay here there’s only one thing that can happen, “See you around.”

Like it’s now his signature move, his hand circles your wrist, turning you back to him, “Call me?” He asks, “Call me tonight?”

You smile, “Okay, I’ll speak to you later.”

You weren’t really sure how long you were supposed to wait to call him. You got in and your mom was already in bed out for count, your dad sat in front of the TV, cold beer in hand, watching some kind of sports.

“You help Javi clean up?” He asks as you throw your keys in the dish on the side table.

You try not to bite at your lip, try not to focus on the heat rising across your cheek, “I did,” You confirm, walking over to the fridge to pick out your own drink, “Most people had already thrown their stuff away, so it didn’t take long.”

You sit with him for a while, sipping slowly on the drink, trying to quell the memories of his lips on yours, the way he had tasted and the way his hand had fisted so tightly at the back of your shirt. It was everything you’d wanted it to be, all those years of wondering what it would be like, and now you knew, and all you wanted was to know what else he could do, how else he could make you feel.

Once your drink is done, you give your dad a chaste kiss on the cheek, bid him goodnight, and spend the next hour pacing, trying to concentrate on reading, before you give up. You reach into your bag and pull out the card. Run your fingers over the name embossed there. You pick up the receiver on your nightstand, punch the number in and press call.

This time, he answers on the first ring, like he’s been sitting around waiting for you to call, just as much as you have.

“Hello.” You speak timidly, leaning back onto the pillows of your bed, switching the handset to the other ear so you’ll be able to hear anyone wandering around outside.

“Evening, hermosa.” He croons back to you, but doesn’t offer anything else.

You sit there for a moment, listening to him breath down the phone, reveling in the fact that he’s doing the same, until it gets to be a little awkward. You start speaking right at the same time as he does, which makes you both pause to let the other carry on, but it only works to make you both laugh.

“You go first.” He prompts.

You take a deep breath, “I’m sorry,” You muse, “For how I was earlier.”

“You don’t need to say sorry,” He replies softly, “I’m sorry for being shit at talking about things.”

There’s another pause, but it’s more comfortable this time, “So…” You trail off, “You kissed me.” It’s whispered, almost like it’s some terribly sordid secret, which you suppose it is really.

“I did,” He confirms, and you’d like to think he’s smiling on the other end of the phone, “Wanted to do more than just kiss you.” He admits at the end.

“Oh,” It comes out a little like a gasp, “Why didn’t you?”

“I told you,” Javi replies with a little sigh, “I’m trying to be good, trying to be a gentleman.”

“What if I don’t want you to be a gentleman?” You offer.

“What do you want me to be?”

You giggle a little, “You sound like I’m paying you to say these things to me,” You hear him scoff at the other end, “I just want to know what you wanted to do to me that didn’t involve kissing me.”

“Oh, hermosa,” You hear him make a ‘tsk’ sound through the receiver, “I would have kissed you, and then some,” You can hear him shifting around on the other end, “Wanted to put my hands all over you, make you feel good.”

You bite your bottom lip a little, wanting nothing more than to let your hand wander below the waistband of your shorts, but there’s that little bubble of anxiety that always seems to make itself known to you when you get yourself into conversations like this, your lack of experience, lack of knowledge really, in how any of this is meant to work.

“I wanted you to do that too,” You admit, “But…” You trail off, not really wanting to admit this to him right now.

“But what, hermosa?” He coaxes.

“I’m just-” You sigh, “I don’t have a lot of experience in this stuff, you’ll have to be patient with me.”

You don’t know what you expect him to say, but it certainly isn’t what he says, “You want me to teach you, huh?” He asks, “Show you what you’ve been missing with those college boys?”

Your breath catches in your throat, because he’s so right. You want to know what it’s like for someone else to take you apart. You want to know what it’s like when someone sinks into you and really cares about how you feel. You want to know what it’s like to feel someone else’s mouth on you. You want to know what it’s like to curl into someone’s side once all is said and done and fall asleep with someone’s arm wrapped around you, and you want all that with him.

“I do.” You reply simply.

“Then say no more,” There’s another silence, “I should let you go,” He says, “But I’ll see you soon, okay?” You hum in response, “And, um, don’t worry okay?” You’re about to ask about what, but you think you know what he’s getting at, “Just… probably best we don’t say anything to anyone, but don’t worry about it, alright?”

“Okay,” Is your response, because what else is there to really say, “Goodnight Javi.”

“Goodnight, querida,” He says back, “Sweet dreams.”

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mysterycitrus · 4 months

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hihihi! tim drake in college real?

oog indeed mein freund

so ur tim drake, ur seventeen, and ur dad has just come back from the dead. u hollowed urself out until there’s nothing left and ur ribs are broken but you’ve never felt better. if u stop moving for more than a second the weight of the world hits u. there’s another kid wearing ur uniform and u have to watch as this new robin and bruce, the bruce u fought for, the bruce u left everything behind for, the bruce u nearly died for, debut as gothams dynamic duo. but it’s fine. u did what u had to do. u feel great, actually.

then ur brother who u love more than anything sits u down and tells u he’s enrolled u in college in california. ur so angry ur spitting. he trusts u and now he’s not even giving u the choice to stay. u want to kick and scream and hold on till ur hands are bloody, but he tells u that he’s worried. he’s been so scared for u since ur dad died. he thinks ur losing urself. he wants u to make choices for urself without bruce. he wants u to spend time with ur friends who are alive again and miss u. he wants u to take a chance to live ur life away from gotham, away from that burden.

he tells u: robin is never truly gone, alright? it’ll never leave. i need u to trust me that it’ll still be u no matter how many other kids wear the cape. i need u to trust that i love u more than what ur able to do in tights.

and he knows this better than anyone. he’s asking u to extricate tim drake from robin and batman and red robin. to remember what it felt like to choose. and after all these years u can’t say no, so u pack ur bags and leave for the west coast.

college is fine. u keep changing majors. u pick up photography as a joke, thinking about snapping photos of the boy wonder from a distance, to print in the basement dark room after school. it’s a laugh, and ur gonna drop it until donna troy finds out, and u spend a long time on the roof of the tower with her taking photos of the sunrise. it’s been a while since the sunrise was the start of ur day. it feels….. unfamiliar. she tells u about how ur brother became nightwing. she tells u about the heartbreak of having to move on. she tells u about choices.

kon’s right down the hall. he can hear u but u can’t hear him, so sometimes you’ll whisper a question for him to shout back. he obligingly poses for ur still life class. he and steph make fun of how u can’t decide what to study. it’s painful to become tim drake and nothing else again, but it happens in increments. u make friends with people in ur tutoriasl. ur less pale — u pinken under the sun easily, peeling flesh turning red and painful, but u look less like a corpse. ur hair is longer, and bart buys u a claw clip shaped like an avocado.

the new robin is growing up, and he explains colour theory to u for one of ur classes. he’s an asshole, but he’s trying. when asked politely, he draws character sheets for bart’s dnd group with minimal grumbling. red and yellow suit him, and looking at him in the costume feels less painful, and more nostalgic.

u brainstorm new ideas for urself, new roles, new ideas for the team, but there’s no rush. u have time. if u see bruce, u kno there’s someone else at his back, watching him through the night. dick texts u life updates, but they’re funny, not desperate. the world continues to spin. u, tim drake, are still alive.

#sorry this is truly just word vomit #tim drake #robin #red robin #dc comics #teen titans #ty for all the asks I got immediately everyone!!!!!!! v v appreciated #OOG!! ily rimi hehehehe #the ask and the answer

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in1-nutshell · 6 months

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Hey, not sure if you're down for writing a continuation of the “Megatron 'accidentally' adopting human Buddy who fears nothing” post. But there was a line “Rung has a line of bots that express the same worry for Buddy one day doing something dumb and not being able to come back from it.” that I think should be expanded upon. Dangerous things are constantly happening to the lost light crew and Buddy must have the devil's luck to come out of everything that happens unscathed. I'd like to see that luck run out. I'd like to see the crew panicking because Buddy got hurt badly and there's been no news if they'll recover or not. I want to see Megatron deal with the impending mortality of his newly adopted kid poorly. And I want to see everyone on the lost light panic even more because if Megatron doesn't start a war if this kid dies, Whirl absolutely will. P.s please let buddy live, I may crave angst, but not that much.

Have a good day, love your writing

Ooooh! Have you been peaking at some of my drafts? haha! I have been thinking about what would happen if Buddy ever got hurt on Megatron's watch. But now more bots are going to watch.

Hope you enjoy!

Megatron and Fearless Buddy who gets seriously hurt

SFW, familial, platonic, angst but happy ending, mention of injuries but nothing graphic or detailed, Human reader

MTMTE/LL

As we all know Buddy fears nothing

And this put some stress on their friends and new dad, Megatron.

“Hey Megs!”--Rodimus

“Rodimus, don’t call me that.”--Megatron

“Yeah, not gonna happen. Anyways I was wondering if you’ve seen Buddy anywhere. They were supposed to show me something?”--Rodimus

“Show you what?”--Megatron

“Something about being a present for being Brainstorm’s ‘Guinea pig’?”--Rodimus

Buddy flying by on a jet pack.

“Hi Roddy! Hi Megs! Bye Roddy! Bye Megs!”--Buddy

“…”—Rodimus and Megatron

CRASH!

Both mechs start running

But as time continues to go on, their little antics are just normalized. Sure, there are still some bots that know the true fragility of the human life span. Such bots included but not limited to Ratchet, First Aid, Velocity, Swerve, Rung, Megatron, and Whirl

“Where are you going with those pilars?”—First Aid

“It’s nothing illegal, yet.”--Buddy

“What type of answer is that!?”—First Aid

But for the most part the crew thinks Buddy is almost as durable as they are. Yes, even Megatron has been guilty of this type of behavior. He isn’t too proud of that.

“C’mon Fleshy jump and do a flip!”—Random Bot

“Bet—”--Buddy

“I think not.”--Whirl

“Whirl?!”--Buddy

“If you break your dumb fragile bones who else is going to come with me on planet expeditions? Cyclonus? I think not. He sucks out all the fun.��—Whirl

“I am literally right here.”--Cyclonus

So, let the angst begin.

The place was being invaded by space pirates.

The pirates where taking the bridge and had successfully barricaded themselves in.

“Why can’t we just break the door down?”--Buddy

“The main room has delicate equipment. One wrong move…”--Megatron

“Okay that’s a bad idea then.”--Buddy

“We just need an opening from the main door and we can figure out the rest.”--Rodimus

“Hey, I’m tiny enough to fit through the crack under the door. I can open the door!”--Buddy

“Absolutely not.”--Megatron

“For once I’m agreeing with him.”--Whirl

“Hey, its not like we have many options here. Unless someone else has a better idea then I am quite literally the only thing stopping these guys.”--Buddy

“…go then…”--Megatron

He was going to regret saying it like that. The computers dashboard in order to unlock the door or at least give it an opening. So, when they were sure that the aliens weren’t looking, they sprinted over to the console by swinging up with a grappling hook to the chair and began running towards the buttons.

They had indirectly activated the plasma screens.

These were holoscreens all over the ship that would show what was happening on the bridge. Everyone had a front row seat to Buddy sprinting across the console. There where cheers as Buddy was coming closer and closer to the button

“They made it!”--Rodimus

“Way to go Buddy!”--Tailgate

“Just press the button.”—Ultra Magnus

“That’s my Amica—”--Whirl

It was right there…

The alien came out of nowhere…

“EW! A Rat!”--Alien

“A ra—"--Buddy

They swatted Buddy across the room in one swift movement. They’re tiny body hurdling across the room and off screen. A small sickening crack was heard.

It was barely noticeable.

But it caused a deafening sound across the entire Lost Light.

Good news for the crew, Buddy’s shoe came off from the force of the hit and successfully pressed the button opening the door.

Everyone is lined up to take these aliens down.

Megatron and Whirl are at the forefront of it.

Megatron is trying to find Buddy while Whirl is absolutely destroying everything.

Megatron spots Buddy slumped over in the far corner of the room.

No motion, nothing

He is just frozen in place.

“Buddy…”--Megatron

“…”--Buddy

“Megatron! Move!”--Ratchet

Ratchet snaps him out of it as he is trying to help Buddy.

Megatron snaps out of it a cover him.

Buddy is rushed out an into the medbay.

Everyone is waiting.

The sudden gravity of Buddy’s mortality weighs heavily on the minds of everyone involved.

Megatron sulks in his room thinking about how he failed them. He can’t bear to sit by Buddy in the med bay. Ratchet understands and tells him that he when Buddy wakes up.

Whirl on the other hand, stays by Buddy’s bed side the entire time.

“Hey Tiny. It’s been a hot minute since you’ve open those little eyes… You mind opening them up?”--whirl

“…”--Buddy

“Fine be like that…”--Whirl

“…”--Buddy

“Well, you’ve missed a lot since you took that hit. One you have a ton of inner most energon by your room and a growing number of get-well gifts. I personally made sure none of you’re a secret bomb. Megs is still in his room and its giving everyone the creeps.”--Whirl

“…”--Buddy

“… Don’t tell this to anyone… but we miss you, you scared the ever living Pits out of us.”--Whirl

“…”--Buddy

Whirl has lost every good thing in his life. He is going to make sure that this one thing does go so soon.

Buddy does wake up

“Hye Whirly Bird?”--Buddy

“Buddy?!”--Whirl

“Why you looking at me like that? Someone died?”--Buddy

“You nearly did Tiny!”--Whirl

“But I didn’t, huh? It takes more than a hand to stop me.”--Buddy

“…I guess huh.”--Whirl

Megatron is zooming over when he hears. Buddy is trying to play off their injuries to try and keep the peace.

“Hey Megs.”--Buddy

“Buddy…”--Megatron

“You okay? You look like you’re dying.”--Buddy

“… that was a poor choice of words.”--Megatron

“Yeah I guess— woah, Megs?"—Buddy

Megatron gently holding Buddy’s hand the best he can

“Just let me hold you please, just a little bit.”--Megatron

“Sure Megs.”--Buddy

As they are recovering Buddy is treated with a bit more respect than they had before. Good thing too, they did after all manage to save the ship after all.

#transformers #transformers x reader #idw mtmte #mtmte x reader #mtmte megatron #mtmte rodimus #mtmte whirl #maccadam #mtmte x platonic reader #human buddy

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tangerinesgirl · 3 months

Text

Unravel

AFAB!Reader x Mark Hoffman

Word count: 1.8k

Rating: explicit, 18+, no minors

Warnings: smut, masochism, size difference, some brief talk of weight, creampie, mostly Dom!Reader but some Dom!Mark, spitting, p in v

Summary: Your ex, Mark, has no where to go after the glass coffin trap and needs your help...even though you've been on a break.

Notes: I wanted to challenge myself to write a fic that has more detail this time. Reading my works back they all seem super quick to get into the action. So let me know what you think and I hope you enjoy!

You jump out of your skin at the loud bang against your apartment door. You begrudgingly roll over to the bedside table to check your phone: 1:03AM. Sighing, you put on slippers and stagger to the door. There's a more polite knock this time as you look through the peep hole: it's Mark Hoffman.

You and Mark had a rocky relationship ever since he became an apprentice for John Kramer. You found out from his clothing being torn, covered in oil and miscellaneous substances, or just straight up gone missing, and confronted him about it. He showed you the way of the traps and Kramer's ideology, part of you was sick to your stomach thinking about how many people have died like this, but the other part of you was seriously into how he would build the traps, brainstorming ideas and coming home all hot and bothered. But in the end, you had to take a break, Mark couldn't commit to a relationship as he was essentially married to his work. What you both had was fun, but you always wanted something more.

You unlock the door and Mark tumbles into your flat and walks straight into the kitchen. When you turn around you notice his once silk blue shirt is now red, full of cuts and glass shards. You don't quite know how he got to you; did he drive? Walk? Either way it was impressive how he's still standing. He swipes the kitchen table clean and dumps a first aid kit down. "Fix me", he demands of you. You sigh, thinking about how many months have passed without hearing from him and he turns up like this out of the blue, then inevitably grab some tweezers and sterilising fluid.

Nothing more is said after that, the only sound in the room is you cutting off Hoffman's shirt. Mark had actually trained you in first aid since he started up the traps, to cover for all eventualities. Things like how to stitch a wound, fix dislocations, and so on. You didn't think you'd actually have to use it when he left. It's not exactly like he could fish out the shards himself so it made sense in a way, even though it was painful for you to see him again. Maybe not as painful as the actual glass in his back though. You carefully start removing pieces from him, every so often he flinches but stays as stoic as ever. You put each shard on the table, disinfecting the tweezers as you go. It's painstaking, especially without a word being said. There's too many thoughts whizzing around your head, you wouldn't even know where to start, so you focus on your work instead.

You dab at the wounds with wipes, you notice a couple of particularly deep ones need stitches, and few more need steri-strips. You start to unwind your thread, and begin to close them up. He still flinches and groans occasionally as you fix his wounds. You're surprised you have enough steri strips for the rest. You give it one last glance over to make sure there's no more tint hidden pieces. Once you're happy with your work, you start to pack the rest of the stuff away.

As you reach for an unused bandage, Hoffman suddenly grabs your wrist. You turn to look at him, and he looks at you, deeply into your eyes, as if to say "thank you" without actually saying it, since that wasn't really part of his nature. He then glances down briefly at your lips. He thinks you didn't notice, but you did, and you look down at his too.

There's a lot of tension in the room, and you find it extremely hot that not a word has been said in the last two, maybe three, hours. You've lost track of time, you always do when Mark is around, because nothing else matters. You start to move forward into a kiss but you stop, inches away from him. Mark looks at your lips again. Then he suddenly puts his hand on the base of your skull behind your head and grips your hair. You let out a little surprise gasp.

Then everything happens so fast.

Mark slams his lips against yours, like a man starved, his kisses are desperate and all tongues. You both lightly moan through the heavy kisses, you sit on his lap and start to drag your hand through his hair in exchange, tugging occasionally. You start grinding while on his lap, searching for more. You can feel his member through his trousers. Then you accidentally knock one the cuts on his back and he groans out in pain, however you couldn't help but notice his cock twitch as you did so, now semi erect. You both stop for a bit and share a glance, not one of humiliation but of realisation. You raise an eyebrow, intrigued, and start to purposefully play with one of his stitched wounds. Mark moans and quickly grabs your other hand that's resting on his chest.

"Stop", he commands. There's clearly some unsaid things between you and Mark. You stop and look at him, you both look at each other with need and desperation.

"I don't know how far I'll go, I can't promise I'll be gentle", Mark has danger in his eyes.

"I know", you admit. Mark was always the kind to take out a rough day at work through sex, and you had a feeling tonight was no exception. But it somehow felt different. It could be the time you've had away from each other, or whatever he experienced that night had him particularly wound up.

"Same safe word?", you ask. He nods slightly, and in a flash he's back to passionately kissing you. He lifts you up, trying to walk you to the bedroom, but can't see where he's going as he's so tied up in the moment. He slams you into a wall, you moan as the air is pushed out of you.

You break the kiss momentarily to remove your top, you must have each other now and can't wait until you're in the bedroom. Mark removes your bra, his hands replacing it. His hands are so large, one hand seems to cover your entire chest. His rough skin feels amazing on your soft breasts. You moan as you remove your underwear. Mark breaks the kiss to kick off his trousers and underwear. He catches you looking at his erection, he walks back over to you and grabs your hair.

"How do I look?", he growls in your ear. You moan and start to kiss him again.

Without warning he pushes his cock into you. You forgot how well he filled you up. He was just the right size, but girthier than average. His thickness stung a little since he slammed into you without warning, but it's a good thing you were already slick with arousal. You hold him around his neck as he's lifting you up. Your legs wrapped around his waist as he's slamming into you against the wall.

With him still inside you, he then carries you over to the kitchen table. It's a good thing you packed everything away earlier. You put your feet on the edge, with your back on the table. Mark continues to push inside of you, sweat starting to glisten down his forehead, onto his large chest. Somewhat hairy, but oh so broad. His frame and arms have always been a turn on for you. Sometimes he was self conscious about his weight but you found it extremely hot. Especially the way it felt on top of you.

You sit up, breaking his momentum briefly, as you can feel the table shake, becoming more and more unstable. You push him to the chair where he was sat as you were cleaning his wounds, and motioned for him to sit down. You straddle him like before, only this time you were completely naked. You haven't felt this powerful for a while. You start to ride him, reaching behind you to start and fondle his balls. He tilts his head back in pleasure, mouth wide open. You stop briefly to hold his jaw open, you look over him as a dribble of your spit travels into his mouth. You forcefully close his mouth to get him to swallow, and continue to ride him.

It's not often you're able to take charge, but you were enjoying it. Hoffman, even though he wouldn't admit it afterwards, likes to think he's dominant at heart, but also loves it when someone takes control.

Your hands start to trail down his back once again. You could feel a few of his stitches had begun to unravel. Mark hisses as you trace your fingers over them. You stop briefly, making sure he was okay with you going further. After no safe word, you continue to pluck open a wound. Mark pretty much jumps out of his seat, slamming into you as he does so. You both moan, the lines of pleasure and pain blurring. You start to dip your finger into the warmth, blood coating your finger and travelling down his body.

"Y/N, I'm gonna-", Mark trails off. You remove your finger, and smear the blood as you caress his face. Around his lips, his jaw, down to his neck.

Mark is VERY into this, he's a massive masochist and seeing you like this has his mind going into overtime. What traps could you come up with? Maybe you could come with him during the next game, getting off on your hard work, putting each other in a trap, and seeing others in them. Watching them struggle in your game, totally oblivious to you and Mark having the steamiest sex of your lives over the monitor.

At this thought, he starts to cum inside of you. The biggest orgasm of his life. You continue to ride his orgasm out of him, the amount of cum you can feel inside you also triggers your orgasm. Mark slams you down by your shoulders to get you to stop moving as his penis slowly grows softer and twitches inside of you. You collapse into Mark's chest, both of you breathless.

You both sit there for a moment, taking everything in. Mark still inside you, his cum leaking out onto the chair, onto the floor, mixing with the blood from his wound that you opened.

You eventually move and mention that you should clean him back up. Mark reluctantly agrees. Neither of you decide to put your clothes back on, as you start to disinfect the table and open your first aid kit again. You mend his stitches and clean him up, and Mark is giving you that look again. Looking at your lips, totally helpless. You sigh as you realise you'll be stitching him back up once again.

#fanfic #mark hoffman x reader #detective mark hoffman #mark hoffman #afab reader #saw #saw fanfic #hoffman x reader #mark hoffman x you #mark hoffman x y/n #hoffman x y/n #glass coffin

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wintaerbaer · 8 months

Text

things we don’t say: part 4 (kth)

banner credit: @itaeewon

summary: Three years after graduating college, everything seems to be falling into place for you: stable job, cozy apartment, and a long-term boyfriend with a ring box hidden in his desk drawer. But when a mutual friend makes a remark that your best friend of nearly two decades is clearly in love with you, you realize that life may not be as simple as it seems.

pairing: Taehyung x Reader (with some VERY brief Seokjin x Reader and Yoongi x Reader)

rating: 18+ (minors dni)

genres: best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, slooooow burn, angst, fluff

word count: 11.5k

chapter warnings: swearing as usual, jin is sad and precious, alcohol consumption, one (1) instance of mild violence, suspension of disbelief as to the legal consequences of said violence, jungkook still has zero filter, feelings and bed sharing

a/n: this was a fun one >:) shout out to everyone who brainstormed, sprinted, or otherwise shouted about this fic with me and gave me the motivation to power through this (y’all know who you are, and i love each and every one of you <3)! and a massive shoutout to @jeonqkooks for the beautiful new banner!!

PREVIOUS // SERIES MASTERLIST // MASTERLIST

Read on ao3

“And Tae encouraged you to do this?”

“Yeah. Kind of made up my mind for me actually.”

You toss down a few potential dresses on Maya’s bed after spending the past several minutes raiding her closet. With the bulk of your wardrobe still at your old apartment, she’d invited you to borrow something of hers for your date with Seokjin.

You may also be sharing a couple glasses of wine to calm your nerves.

“Hm.”

“What?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“No, but I can see you thinking.”

“It’s nothing.” She holds a sparkling gold number up to your shoulders, then frowns and throws it back down. “Or at least nothing you want to hear, anyway.”

“Don’t tell me you’re on about Tae and I again.”

She shrugs. “I think you’d be great together. Sue me.”

“I could say the same about you and Kook.”

A snort rasps from the back of her throat as she coughs on her wine. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

“The two of you are more alike than you think,” you say. “And I don’t think you give him enough credit. He’s a good guy.”

She purses her lips, watching clouds go by out the window. “He’s…frustrating.” Her eyelids drop, coming together in a slow blink as her focus turns back to you razor-sharp. “And weren’t you against us together in the first place?”

“Yeah, because it was just sex.”

“It is just sex.”

“Well, I changed my mind.” You take a sip of your drink, let the acidic taste roll around and coat your tongue before it slides down your throat. “If there’s a possibility you two can make each other happy, then you should have that. I think maybe love is rarer than it seems.”

“He and I are far from love.”

“For now,” you say. “But maybe someday?”

She only grimaces like she’s swallowed a bitter pill, giving the tiniest shake of her head before rushing to change the subject. “Tell me about this Seokjin guy.”

“Not much to tell,” you explain. “Joon knows him from the hospital. He’s been very pleasant when we’ve texted. Polite. I’m definitely not getting creep vibes from him.”

“Always a plus. But still, text me the address of the restaurant and a physical description once you’re there.” She pauses, tapping a finger against her chin. “Also, I have some condoms if you want to take a couple.”

“Um, no?”

“Why not? Best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.”

“See, that sounds like something Jungkook would say.”

“Well a dumbass clock is right twice a day, or whatever the saying is.”

“I don’t think that’s quite right.”

“Close enough in his case.” Her voice lowers suddenly—delicately—as if to share something confidential even though you’re the only two in the room. “But speaking of protection, did you hear back from the clinic?”

Maya had delicately suggested a couple weeks ago that you should probably get tested for STDs given that you don’t really know how many women Jace had been with and if they were being safe. It was a fair point, as humiliating as it was to consider that he may have found yet another way to rip apart your life, and so you’d gone for an appointment last week, trying not to cry as you provided the necessary samples.

“Negative,” you murmur, feeling embarrassed even though you know you shouldn’t be and that your friend would never judge you. But the fact that you even have to have this conversation at all gnaws at your own sense of self-doubt. “I’m clean.”

She presses her mouth into a line, an acknowledgment of the misfortune of the situation, while simultaneously tilting her chin in approval. “Good.”

You pick at a loose thread hanging off the hem of the dress you’re holding, a dog barking somewhere outside the window as you grasp for literally anything else to talk about. “So where are you guys heading tonight?”

“Who knows?” Maya says with a sigh, leaning back on the bed. “You know it’s like herding cats with them sometimes. I’m supposed to go over there after this, and we’re going to wing it then.”

“So one of our usual clubs?”

“I’d bet my left tit on it.”

You let out a soft laugh, feeling that maybe you’d rather be spending time with your friends tonight instead of going on a half-hearted date. But Seokjin seems nice, and you’ve already committed so you’re stuck. “Could you please just try to make sure Tae has some fun?” You chew at your bottom lip. “He’s been so focused on cheering me up, I want to be sure he still has time for himself.”

“Worry not. I’ll help him pick someone up,” Maya says nonchalantly.

“That’s not what I meant.”

Her entire body perks up, eager that you’ve taken the bait. “Why, does that bother you?”

“Also not what I meant,” you say, crushing down the tiny flip in your stomach at the thought of Taehyung taking someone home as Maya pouts. “I just want him to enjoy himself. I don’t think he’s been doing enough of that lately.”

“Without his other half there with him?” Maya mumbles. “Fat chance.”

You ignore it, knowing she’s baiting you yet again.

But your heart warms all the same.

Seokjin is the embodiment of a perfect gentleman.

He’s handsome—you can’t help but notice as he stands at your approach, introducing himself and coming around the table to pull out your chair for you with a slight bow. When the waiter appears to take your drink order, Seokjin (or “Jin,” as he says to call him) offers to let you pick the wine, so you go with a nice-looking pinot grigio (you haven’t even been able to look at reds since that night). Typical first date conversation flows as you browse the menu, order, and wait for your food, and you find that Jin is soft-spoken without being shy, confident without being arrogant. He tells you about his job as a physical therapist and how he likes to spend his weekends fishing with his brother on his parents’ boat. As you likewise share anecdotes about your publishing job and college shenanigans, Jin listens attentively with kind eyes, asks thoughtful questions, and chuckles at all the right bits.

He’s nice.

But there’s no spark.

You can sense it in his posture, too. His eyes are kind, but there’s pain behind them. He asks questions, but there’s an uncertainty lingering under the surface. He laughs at your jokes but subtly deflates each time like he’s guilty of something.

By the time your meals arrive, you’re ready to chalk it up as a loss.

“Jin,” you begin, tone aiming for the gentleness of “it’s not you, it’s me” proportions. “You seem like a wonderful guy, but for the sake of honesty, it doesn’t feel like either of us sees this going further, does it?”

Jin’s shoulders sag, the mask of obligatory cheerfulness falling away in defeat. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be!” you say quickly, not wanting him to feel bad when he was clearly trying his best to have a good time with you. “I think we both knew going into this that we were each coming to the table with…baggage.”

Jin nods, his eyes now tinged red as he murmurs, “It’s been tough.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Ah.” He smiles sadly. “We’ve only just met, and you’re clearly a very sweet woman. I’d feel bad dumping it all out on you when I’ve already wasted your time.”

“Maybe it would be good for both of us?” you suggest. “Obviously we’re both not feeling this from a date standpoint, but maybe what we need is just a friend who understands.”

A slow tip of his chin downwards as he considers. “I think I can do that.”

“And you’re not wasting my time, for the record. I just appreciate the company.”

Jin visibly relaxes at that, his posture easing with the pressure of the date now gone.

“So Namjoon told me you also just got out of a long-term relationship?” you ask, poking at your ravioli.

His chin dips in acknowledgment, voice rough as he states, “Aera.”

“How long were the two of you together?”

“Since high school.” He twists the fabric of his napkin in his hands. “She was my first…everything. Truly. I’ve never loved anyone or anything like her.” A stray thread absentmindedly twines around his finger, the blood darkening under the skin. “We made it all the way through college and my physical therapy schooling doing long distance. Spent the past couple years finally living together. We were happy.” The thread snaps, and he shakes his head. “At least I thought we were.”

You’d swear you can feel your heart literally ache with how forlorn he looks across the table as you gently ask, “I’m guessing she left?”

“I proposed, and she said no.” A strand of dark hair falls in front of his eyes, and he rakes a hand across his head one, two, three times in frustration. “She told me she thinks she’s missing out. That she already lost most of her youth to me, waiting to finish school, when she could’ve been enjoying herself and seeing what else is out there.” He slumps forward, leaning his forearms on the table and lacing his fingers together. “But I can’t understand. I spent just as much time with her, and I never doubted it. To me, she was always the one.”

A quiet settles at the table, the conversational white noise of your fellow diners taking over for the moment as you soak in the sudden sense of kinship with the man in front of you—both blindsided by the partners you thought you’d spend the rest of your lives with.

“I get it,” you tell him, feeling the need to give something in return after he opened his heart to a stranger. “My ex—I thought we were about to get engaged too. I was making all of these plans in my head only to find out that we definitely weren’t on the same page.”

Gentle eyes appraise your face. “He broke up with you?”

“He cheated.”

The words taste bitter as they drop from your lips.

“I’m so sorry,” Jin says, and you can tell by his tone and the look on his face that he genuinely means it.

You chew the inside of your cheek until a canine catches the soft corner of your lip and you taste blood. “I found a ring in his desk and then found him in bed with someone else two weeks later.”

“Wow, Y/N.” He bends in as if he’s going to take your hand before seeming to think better of it and sighing. “I can’t even imagine if I had…” A shake of his head like he’s trying to clear an intrusive thought. “Puts my situation into perspective. I feel awful even comparing the two.”

“Oh, please don’t,” you quickly say. “Your hurt is just as valid as mine. But I can tell that you’re a really great guy, Jin. And if Aera can’t see it, I’m sure there’s someone out there who will cherish that.” You smile to yourself, remembering a night not too long ago with tanned skin and old photographs. “That’s the advice Taehyung gave me, at least.”

“Taehyung?”

“Oh, sorry, he’s my best friend.”

There’s an agreeable hiss as Jin sucks his teeth with a nod. “Well, he sounds like a smart man.”

“He’s my favorite person in the whole world.”

“He must be pretty great, then.”

You can’t help but to nod your head eagerly, words rushing out of you. “He cares so deeply. And he’s so, so talented, but he has a tendency to underestimate himself sometimes,” you gush. “But he’s incredible at everything he does. And just…so resilient. I’ve seen him go through things that no person should ever have to endure, and he’s never let it make him resentful. He could be having the worst day of his life, and he’d still give you the shirt off his back. I admire him more than anyone I’ve ever met.”

“You’ve known each other a while then?”

“Since we were kids,” you explain. “It was lonely growing up in my house—my parents weren’t around a lot—so we’d hang out every day. He always knew how to cheer me up, how to make me smile, even by simply being there. Some days, we’d literally sit in my room doing homework silently for hours, and it just felt nice to share space with somebody else. I don’t know what I would’ve done if I didn’t have him.”

Jin watches you closely. It reminds you of Namjoon’s typical evaluative expression, and you can instantly understand why they’re friends. Heat rises to your cheeks as you realize you’ve been jabbering on, though Jin doesn’t look too bothered, asking, “And the two of you have never…?”

You sheepishly poke at your food again, red as a tomato now based on how hot your cheeks feel. “No, he doesn’t feel that way about me.”

“But you feel that way about him?”

Something strange churns low in your belly. You’re not sure why your usual denials catch on the back of your throat, but they stick there, holding your tongue hostage. It should come easily, the words, “No, just friends” a habit by now.

Why do they suddenly feel like a lie?

Thankfully, you’re saved as your phone flashes in the low light of the restaurant with an incoming call, Jimin’s face appearing on the screen.

You furrow your eyebrows at the smiling photo, Jin still watching you curiously. Jimin knows you’re on a date right now, and he’s supposed to be out clubbing with Taehyung, Maya, and Jungkook. Why would he be calling you? Could it be a case of butt dialing? Then again, maybe he’s just drunk.

Or maybe something is wrong.

Your anxiety wins out, and you make a quick apology to Jin, who kindly waves you off, before swiping to accept the call.

“What’s up? I’m on a date.”

“I know, Y/N, and I’m so sorry, but I think we need you at the apartment. Something’s happened.” Jimin’s voice is frazzled on the other end of the line, the discomfort in your stomach slipping straight to full-on nausea as your fingers tighten around the phone, skin stretching taut around your knuckles when he speaks again.

“It’s Tae.”

The club is loud, music pounding an earthquake into the walls and floors as a tangle of sweaty bodies surges around the dance floor. Jimin thinks to himself that maybe, just maybe, he's starting to get a little too old for this when the image of the writhing mob does more to set off feelings of claustrophobia than set him at ease. Still, once he and the others have made camp at a more secluded table in the back of the room, drinks in hand, he's still appreciative of the time out with his friends—even with Jungkook immediately scurrying off with a glint in his eye, target already in his sights.

"Ugh, look at him," Maya sneers, watching him chat up a blonde woman at the bar. "Shameless. Absolutely shameless."

Jimin can't resist a smirk. "Careful there, Maya, you sound jealous."

"Oh, fuck no!" she shrieks, punctuating this with a sip of her drink. "On the contrary, I hope this works out for him, and they get married and have a million babies and move far, far away. Get him out of my hair."

Both Jimin and Taehyung chuckle at that. "You do know you have the option of not sleeping with him, right?" Jimin asks.

"I take what I can get, and he's good at his craft. I'll give him that." Jimin chokes on his drink, while Taehyung only smiles, amused. "Speaking of getting, anyone catching the eye of either of you gentlemen? I'm happy to take on wing-woman duties tonight."

"No," Taehyung says, shaking his head. "I'm just here to make sure none of you do something stupid."

Maya rolls her eyes. "Translation: the love of my life is out on a date, and I'm trying not to think about it. How about you, Chim?"

"I don't know." Jimin shrugs. "Let me get a couple drinks in me and then see how I feel."

"Suit yourselves. But just remember that I offered when I ask one of you two to help a girl out." She tosses her hair over her shoulder. "Especially you, Tae. I know your heart is taken with your endless 'will-they-won't-they' thing with Y/N, but you could always sell the fake ex play better than Jimin here…Tae?"

But Taehyung is no longer paying attention, eyes now intensely locked on the crowd like a hawk zeroing in on prey. Maya follows his line of sight to a couple grinding on the edge of the dance floor, a dark-haired woman and a man with a distinct, bright green jacket—

"Oh my God, is that Jace?!"

Jimin's head snaps around, and even from a distance, there's no denying it. Jace tosses his head back, laughing at something the woman says, before he presses into her further, leaning back down to whisper something in her ear. Jimin quickly turns towards Taehyung, who sits terrifyingly still, eyes still zoned in on Jace and his date.

"Tae, I know you're angry. We all are," he begins, gripping Taehyung's forearm in an attempt to grab his attention. "But you cannot confront him. Not here, not now. Y/N is doing great—she's finally starting to move on. Don't undo that by poking the bear."

"He's right," Maya says, leaning in. "You're not going to accomplish anything here. It's loud, there's too many people—he'll just brush you off. And I know you care about her, Tae, but really? Not your battle to fight. Let it go."

Taehyung continues to sit in silence until Jace and the woman disappear into the crowd, and it's like a spell is suddenly lifted as he blinks rapidly at his friends. "No, you're right." He rubs a finger at the space between his eyes. "Y/N is a grown woman. She doesn't need me to protect her."

"See? A man of sense," Maya lilts. "Not like Mr. Don Juan over here about to stick his tongue into yet another college girl who thinks his immature ass counts as an ‘older man’." She nods her head towards the bar where the blonde woman has positioned herself closer to Jungkook, his hands now encircling her waist.

Taehyung quirks an eyebrow, teasing, "You’re not in college though."

Maya's jaw drops, and she puts a hand to her heart in feigned offense. "Wow! Someone's feisty tonight."

"Don't underestimate Tae when he's in one of his moods," Jimin laughs. "And don't overestimate Kook. I bet you twenty bucks he doesn't take her home."

"I'll take that action. He's got her wrapped around him already. Easy money." They shake on it, and the conversation devolves into trying to find someone in the crowd for Maya to shoot her shot with. However, in spite of her previous claim that she "takes what she can get," she finds an excuse to brush off every potential candidate ("Too short…too tall…too rich-looking?").

(Jimin suspects it may have something to do with the man who is now kissing the blonde at the bar.)

An hour later, and they're still parked at the table and on their third round of drinks. Jace has not resurfaced since they first spotted him, much to Jimin's relief, and he hopes he snuck out to a different club somewhere across town or maybe even a different country. Taehyung sports an easy smile now, alcohol loosening up his body as he laughs at a story Maya is telling about two guys who once had a fist-fight over her in this very club during college. Still, Jimin keeps an eye on their surroundings, likewise wary about what might happen if Jace spots them.

"And thankfully, the cops didn't wind up getting called, but oh God, can you imagine?" Maya howls, her and Taehyung in near-hysterics as she finishes up her story.

"Geez," Taehyung gasps, wiping at his eyes. "You're gonna make me piss my pants. I need the bathroom."

He stands from the table and wanders off in the direction of the restrooms, Maya staring at his back the whole way.

"We need to get that guy laid," she dramatically sighs.

"While he's still in crisis mode over Y/N’s breakup?" Jimin scoffs. "Good luck with that one."

"I don't get those two—I really don't." Maya rattles her perfectly-manicured nails against the table. "She's single for the first time in four years. He's been helplessly in love with her for so much longer. I don't know what he's waiting for."

"I mean it's only been what, a month?" Jimin muses. "He probably feels like it's too soon to make a move. Which is fair."

"Jimin. You're a man. You have eyes. Not only is Y/N pretty, but she has that whole—" She waves a hand in front of her face. "—'take me home to meet your parents’ energy to her. She won't be on the market for long, and you know it. She's already got this date with this Seokjin guy—and Tae told her to do it! It's like he's trying to sabotage himself! And then you have Y/N being smitten with him as always, too. I mentioned helping Tae find a hook-up earlier, and she looked like she was going to hurl."

He shrugs, tapping the side of his glass in thought. “I think they’re just scared. Imagine knowing someone for as long as they have and having to take that leap and risk losing it all.”

“You are out of your mind if you think either of them would reject each other,” Maya snorts.

“You don’t think Y/N might not want to take the chance that they fall apart? Especially after what she’s going through?”

“Tae wouldn’t do that to her,” she frigidly says, as if to challenge the very audacity of the thought.

“I’m not saying he would; I’m just saying she might be guarded.”

“So the solution is for him to help set her up with other guys at his own expense? That’s not fair to him either.”

He tilts his head in subtle agreement but adds, "Look, I want to see the two of them together as much as the next person. But maybe we need to just…let them come to it on their own? I mean, we've tried nudging them in the past, and it clearly hasn't worked. But I have faith they'll get there. Tae can be an idiot, but not that much of an id—"

His thought is cut off by screams and the sound of a commotion out on the dance floor. Hairs standing up on the back of his neck, Jimin bolts from his chair and darts into the crowd, Maya close on his heels. They shove their way through the surge of bodies—pressing back and away from the source of the disturbance—until they reach the spot where a small space has cleared out, and Jimin hears Maya swear loudly behind him.

Taehyung is knelt over Jace on the floor, his fists connecting with the latter's face and head over and over in a frenzy. Jace lies there, face bloodied and clearly dazed, his hands weakly raised in front of him in a futile attempt to shield himself from the blows, but Taehyung is relentless. His arm swings down on a repeated loop as if powered by a motor, and even though the music continues to pound above them, Jimin would swear he can hear the sound of knuckles cracking against flesh and bone. He rushes forward with Maya, both of them grabbing ahold of Taehyung's shoulders to pull him back, but he struggles against them, still trying desperately to connect his punches.

Jungkook suddenly materializes out of nowhere, a halfway-finished beer in his hand that he promptly empties over Jace’s head before grabbing Taehyung around the waist and dragging him back through the crowd. The three of them are able to muscle Taehyung towards the door, Jungkook breaking off to intercept the two bouncers who are stalking their way over as Jimin shoves Taehyung out onto the sidewalk.

"What the fuck, man!"

Taehyung's eyes are wild, his gray hoodie dotted with blood. "I wasn't finished," he says, deep voice chillingly calm.

"Are you out of your mind?!" Maya screams. "Are you trying to get yourself arrested?! Over that piece of shit?!”

“You said you were going to the fucking bathroom,” Jimin angrily adds. “How the hell did you wind up in a fistfight?!”

“I saw him. I hit him. I’m going to do it again,” Taehyung bluntly states. “Let me back in there.”

“The hell we are!” Maya exclaims, and Taehyung may have a few good inches on her, but she steps toe-to-toe with him to block his way. “He's not worth it, Tae, he's not!"

"She is!" Taehyung snaps, and Jimin notices his hands start to shake as the adrenaline begins to wear off. "She…you guys saw her that night. You saw her. In all this time, I have never seen her that broken. Never." His voice cracks, and a sheen appears behind his eyes, tears threatening to spill. "So get out of my way because I am going to make that motherfucker feel every tear I've had to wipe from her face because of him!"

"You're not." The door of the club swings shut as Jungkook joins them outside. "We're leaving now."

Taehyung takes a step forward, pleading, "Jungkook, I—"

"No, Tae, you're done." Jungkook moves to grab his arm, but Taehyung recognizes defeat and shakes him off, pulling his hood over his head and tramping off in the direction of their apartment. The others follow behind, close enough to keep a watchful eye out but with enough distance to give him space to cool down.

"How did it go inside?" Jimin asks quietly.

Jungkook pushes a hand through his hair. “We lucked out. I've worked with those guys before, and we're friendly. Gave them a quick rundown of the situation, and they're going to try and contain it, but…you know…" He shrugs. "That was technically assault."

"What that was was idiotic," Maya hisses.

"It was awesome."

"Kook!"

"What?! It was. Would've thought about taking care of it myself if Tae hadn't beaten me to it. Guy deserved it."

"At the cost of possible jail?" Jimin chimes in. "We all hate the guy, but I don't think it's doing Y/N a favor if she has to bail us out of—" He slaps a hand to his forehead. "Oh, fuck, Y/N."

The other two look at him in question, and he hesitates. "Do we…do we tell her?" he asks slowly. "She's on that date. What if it's going well?"

The three of them fall into silence, looking uneasily at Taehyung's back. He walks with his hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched and heels digging into the sidewalk. Jimin watches as he takes a kick at an empty can, sending it flying into the gutter.

"It's Tae," Maya murmurs suddenly from his left. "She'd want to know."

"Shit, yeah." Jimin presses the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to rub away the headache that is quickly developing. "I'll call her—see if she can meet us back at the apartment."

"I'm going to call Hobi too," Jungkook says, phone already out. "I've punched someone before and can guarantee—his hand is fucked up."

Jimin nods, slowing his steps so he can fall behind the others for a bit of privacy. He doesn't know how the night spiraled so out of control, but he can't shake the existential feeling that something in the cosmos has changed.

Sliding his phone out of his pocket, he takes a deep breath of the night air and dials your number.

Your hands shake as you fumble with your keys outside the guys' apartment, struggling to grasp the spare that Taehyung lent you when you decided to stay with them. Jimin had said to take your time if you had to, but the thought of something being wrong with Taehyung had you in a panic. He hadn’t given you any details either, saying that they’d explain it all once you were there.

Jin had hurried you out at the distressed look on your face after you hung up, telling you that he’d take care of dinner and to go take care of your friend (you’ll later try to have Namjoon pass along some money for your meal that Jin will steadfastly refuse). Not wanting to stand and wait for an Uber, you had half-run the twelve blocks from the restaurant instead.

Out of breath, you gasp out a, "What happened?!" when Jungkook opens the door at the sound of your scrambling, not even giving him a chance to answer before you're pushing past him inside.

Taehyung sits on the edge of the couch with Hoseok kneeling in front of him, first aid kit at his feet. From here, you can see that his right hand is littered with cuts, purple bruises already forming across his swollen knuckles even as Hoseok tends to the wounds. Taehyung doesn't look up when you walk in, his eyes hooded and fixed on his hand.

"What the fuck happened?!" You repeat, but the room is quiet for a moment more as Jungkook, Jimin, and Maya all look at each other as if they don't know what to say.

Jimin breaks first. "We, ah…" he begins from his armchair seat. "We ran into your ex."

Your heart drops into your stomach, and you immediately feel dizzy. Images of Jace flood your mind: his smile, his hands, his voice—him tangled up in your bed when you got back from the beach house.

"He was at the club," Jimin continues. "And Tae…he, um—"

"He kicked his ass!" Jungkook chirps, an unmistakable hint of delight in his voice.

A tornado of feelings rips through your insides, a blend of confusion and anxiety that has you momentarily reeling. You'd be lying if you said you didn't have any residual feelings for Jace, the tiniest part of your brain in a worry over the state he might be in right now. But it all melts away when you look down at the man who still won't meet your eyes, his purpling hand making your heart twist even harder.

"Are you okay?" you ask softly, and Taehyung finally lifts his head to look at you. His gaze is stoic, but there's a haze of emotion behind his eyes that you can't place.

"I'm fine," he says, but his voice is tight and gravelly.

Hoseok tuts, dabbing a spot of ointment across Taehyung's knuckles. "Let's hope you stay that way. I don't think you'll need any stitches, and nothing seems to be broken, but we'll have to keep an eye on this to make sure nothing gets infected." He pulls bandages out of the first aid kit and begins wrapping Taehyung's hand.

You're afraid to ask this next question, but the words fall out anyway. "Did the police come?"

Jimin shakes his head. "We got out of there quick, and Kook talked to the bouncers that were friends of his—" Jungkook gives a two-finger salute from his perch by the kitchen. "—they said they'd try to take care of it, but who knows." He pauses before asking, "Do you think Jace would press charges?"

"I don't know," you answer honestly. You've known Jace to be proud, but you're not sure if that means he'll brush this off as a simple scrap or want to save face in some way.

"If he does, I know a lawyer who might be able to help," Maya pipes up at the opposite end of the couch. "He's a…friend. Owes me a favor."

"A lawyer friend?" Jungkook asks, eyes narrowing. "Do we know him? What's his name?"

"Last name: Out. First name: Butt."

Jungkook scoffs at that, but you also hear him mutter under his breath, "He sounds like a butt."

"Well as much as I would like to stay and chat about fights and butts," Hoseok says, bandaging the last of Tae's hand and closing his kit, "Sunny and I have a meeting with the wedding coordinator in the morning so I’ve gotta go. Keep that clean, and text me immediately if anything looks or feels wrong or if the swelling doesn’t go down. I can swing by in a couple days to look at it again."

Taehyung nods silently, and Hoseok heads for the door, waving as Jungkook shouts, "Thanks, doc!"

An awkward silence sweeps the room as the door swings shut, the only sound being that of Jimin anxiously tapping his heels against the floor. Maya reads the room, looking around at each person and eventually settling on you and Taehyung. Your posture is tense as you stiffly hover by the side of the couch, shifting your feet, while Taehyung is back to avoiding eye contact.

"I think I'm going to head out too," she says, standing up and shooting Jimin a pointed look.

"Do you need a ride home?" Jungkook asks. His tone says that he's trying to be nonchalant, but his eyes betray his eagerness.

"I'm a big girl, Kook," Maya drawls. "I can get myself home."

"Would you let lawyer friend drive you home?"

She rolls her eyes dramatically, her whole head tilting back in exasperation. "Oh my God, you're insufferable. Fine."

Jungkook moves for his keys, a certain spring in his step, while Maya addresses the rest of you. "I'll stop by tomorrow. Please, please try to stay out of trouble until then. Looking at you, Tae." And then she and Jungkook exit the apartment, Maya slipping money into Jimin’s hand as she goes.

Jimin lets out a heavy sigh. "Well he's not coming home tonight." He stands and stretches his arms above his head. "I'm gonna turn in. Let me know if either of you needs something, yeah?" He shuffles away to his bedroom, leaving you and Taehyung alone.

Taehyung continues to sit still as a statue, staring at the wall, and so you take a careful seat next to him, slowly so as to not jostle the cushions too much. When he keeps his eyes straight ahead, you gently take his injured hand between both of yours. His body visibly softens as you graze your fingers back and forth across his palm.

"Tae…"

He looks at you then, and you take the time to examine his face. There's no guilt or shame in his expression, but you see a pain there that has you reaching up to rub at the creases between his eyes.

His eyelids droop down at your touch. “I’m sorry about your date.”

“It’s fine,” you say. “It wasn’t going that well anyway.”

You see a muscle jump in his jaw, concern tightening the corners of his mouth. “Did he do something?”

“Easy.” You resume your tracing of his palm. “He was very kind and respectful, and we had an oddly sweet conversation. Just realized that neither of us is in the proper mindset for it to be anything more than maybe a friendship.”

A hum comes from deep in his throat. “Alright.”

“Certainly no need for you to fight any other men on my behalf,” you say, and he shoots you an uneasy look before staring down your reflections in the dark of the TV screen.

You take it in with him, observing the shadowy duplicates who feel like they’re sitting across from you. The linked arms, the soothing press of your knee to his—your current situation may feel anxiety-inducing, but the figures mirrored in the screen look comfortable. Unified.

"Are you mad?" he whispers after a moment.

The question catches you off guard. "Why would I be?"

"I know you still care about him." Taehyung swallows, glancing down at your intertwined hands. "You wouldn't still be this upset over him if you didn't."

You let his words sink in, not altogether untrue but certainly not at the forefront of your mind right now. "I'm not worried about him—I'm worried about you." Taehyung's eyes flash at that with something akin to confusion, and you chew at your lower lip. "I've never seen you like this."

It's true. Taehyung, in spite of his mild nature, has always had a protective streak in him. One time, when the two of you were twelve, a few boys in your class had spent a week bullying you about your clothes—calling you a “spoiled, pretentious bitch”—only to come back from gym class one day to find their shirts in the garbage, cut to bits. But never—in all of your years together—have you ever known him to get violent.

"I tried to let it go. I did," Taehyung insists. He picks at his bandages, and you cover his hand with your own to still him. "I just…" His voice cracks, eyes suddenly glassy. "I couldn't stop seeing you on the bathroom floor that night."

The tears spill over, and you pull him into you, his arms wrapping around your waist as he gasps into your shoulder. He's trying to force the emotion down—you can feel it in the way his body trembles—and so you tangle your fingers in the spot where his hairline meets the back of his neck. You know it's always been a soothing spot for him, and his breathing slowly evens out as you coast your fingers back and forth, a rogue piece of your brain taking pleasure in the feel of his soft hair under your hands.

"Tae," you whisper again once he's calmed, and he pulls back to look at you, face entirely too close. Your heart stutters at the sheer amount of raw affection in his expression, and the words you were about to say catch in your throat along with your breath. Since when does being around him make you so nervous?

"I'm sorry," Taehyung murmurs, entirely oblivious to your current internal struggle. "I know this isn't about me—"

"No," you quickly say, snapping out of your inner turmoil. "Tae, you're allowed to have feelings, you know?" Your fingers absentmindedly run along his neck again. "And like you told me that night, I will be fine. I will be. It just…takes a bit of time. And I appreciate everything you've done to try and help get me there."

You try to convey just how much you mean this in your tone, lacing your words with every bit of gratitude you've built up over the past month (over the past years). Taehyung seems to understand, his thumb coming up to gently brush against your chin.

A glimpse of white bandages turns you sullen, raising your hands to delicately graze against their soft edges and chart the way they wrap around his knuckles. He winces as you touch them, and frustration crests like a wave in your chest; you hate that he’s hurting, hate that your own troubles are the cause of it.

“You didn’t have to do this for me,” you sigh, dripping with guilt.

“I’d do anything for you.”

His words are firm, and he cants forward as he says them until his forehead rests against yours, a single shared breath haunting the space between your lips.

"I just don't ever want to see you like that again," he whispers.

And it's all too much: your pulse spikes, the blood pounding through your veins at his nearness and the honey-sweet words rolling off his tongue. This time, you're the one who can't look him in the eye as you put some distance between your bodies, abruptly shifting away from him on the couch.

"You won't."

The tension settles in thick, and Taehyung gazes at you, undoubtedly perplexed by your sudden withdrawal. Just as he opens his mouth to say something, you nod at his hand. "You had an eventful day. I'm fine out here if you want to sleep?"

He slowly shakes his head. "No, uh…I don't think I'll be able to sleep. Might just stay up and watch some TV. You can take my bed, though, if you're tired."

The charged atmosphere still has you slightly shaken—your scrambled brain trying to make sense of the tingling in your stomach—but concern for Taehyung ultimately wins out, and you tell him that you'll stay up to keep him company. He doesn't argue with that, simply flips on your favorite cooking channel and drags your legs into his lap as you stretch out.

It's how Jungkook finds you as he slinks back in the next morning, smiling to himself as he drapes a blanket over your sleeping forms.

July is beginning its descent into August, stifling clouds of heat stuffing themselves into roads and alleyways, when your sign to move back into your own apartment comes in the form of Jeon Jungkook almost getting a full look at your bare ass one Saturday morning.

He immediately flips his back to you, frantically covering his face with his arms and bellowing, "I'M NOT LOOKING!" at the top of his lungs.

"Jeon, you'd better keep your eyes covered or I swear to God I'll put your nuts in a vise!"

"Is that like a kink thi—"

"Do NOT." You rush to dress yourself, giving him the signal when it's safe to turn around.

He doesn't look the least bit ashamed, the bastard.

"Not that it's necessarily unwelcome, but why were you almost naked in my living room?"

You glare at him. "Jimin is taking one of his long ass showers."

"And Tae's at work. Just use his room."

You'd thought about it, but the idea of getting naked in your best friend's bedroom had made you blush, like you'd be crossing some sort of line.

"I thought I could change fast enough," you say, not wanting to have to explain your reasoning to Jungkook of all people.

"Well you obviously thought wrong." He smirks, and you already know what's coming. "Nice bra, by the way."

You pick up a throw pillow off the couch and fling it at him. You'd been shooting for his head, wanting to smack the smug grin right off his face, but your aim is about two feet off and he catches it effortlessly anyway.

What an ass.

“No wonder Maya is always pissed at you,” you jab. “Constantly flirting with other girls.”

His demeanor shifts ever so slightly—his shoulders lower, and you can tell by the way his cockiness subtly but immediately deflates that you’ve wounded him. A pang of regret for your words hits at the sight of wide doe eyes.

“She talks about me to you?”

You wouldn’t have believed it to be possible, but you don’t think that you’ve ever seen him look so innocent, tentative hopefulness coloring his face.

“Not, like, regularly, but sometimes, sure,” you say, not quite certain how to handle this new edition of Jungkook.

“What does she say?”

Wow, those big, round Bambi eyes are really doing work.

“Just that, you know.” You scratch at your ear, not wanting to accidentally throw Maya under any buses while also honoring your friendship with Jungkook. “You’re kind of annoying sometimes.”

That clearly doesn’t make him happy, his jaw tightening with discontent as he grimaces. “Right.”

“I mean think about it, Kook,” you say, compelled to defend Maya. “You hook up with her, and then flirt and pick up other girls right in front of her face.”

“We’re not exclusive!” he exclaims.

“Maybe she wants to be?”

“But that was her idea!”

That stops you. Not once since you found out the two of them were hooking up did it cross your mind that Jungkook would ever be the one unhappy with their arrangement. He’s never had a serious girlfriend in the entire time you’ve known him. Up until this moment, you were sure he’d be a perpetual bachelor. “What?”

“She wanted to be non-exclusive.”

“And you…don’t?”

He looks away from you, crossing his arms over his chest. “I don’t know.”

No. It can’t be.

“Wait a second.”

You move to stand in front of him, taking his face in your hands so you can turn him every which way, inspecting his face. Pink cheeks, a creased brow, jawline so hard you could probably cut yourself on it.

“You’re flustered!” you shriek. Jungkook quickly uncrosses his arms to bat your hands away, reeling back to put some distance between the two of you.

“I’m not!”

“You are!” you shout, following him as he roams around the room. “Jeon Jungkook is flustered!”

“Bah, you’re insane, woman.” He swings a dismissive hand even as the two of you settle in at the kitchen island.

“You’d be cute together!”

“She’s too stubborn.”

“I can totally see it!”

“It would never work.”

“You don’t know that!”

“Hey, worry about your own love life.”

He means it to be teasing, obviously not thinking too hard about his words because the second he realizes what he’s just said, he pales. “Y/N, I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” you say, sobered. “I know you didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Still—“

“You’re right. I’m avoiding things.” You peer over at the pull-out couch, still in bed-mode with your blankets and pillows messily strewn across it. Your suitcase, meanwhile, sits off to the side with the contents tangled and half-overflowing.

In short, you’re a mess.

The guys have never made you feel unwelcome, have only ever made it clear that you are free to stay as long as you’d like, but you’d be lying if you said you haven’t felt your time here beginning to weigh on your shoulders, knowing you’re only putting off the inevitable.

You feel like you’ve been (slowly, but surely) making emotional progress, but going back to the apartment might threaten to undo all of that. Although it may have felt like it at times growing up, you’ve technically never lived alone, and you’ve grown accustomed to having your people around. In fact, you thrive on it. Being around your friends is the only reason why you’ve been doing as well as you have.

You love having someone to come home to.

“I need to move back soon,” you tell Jungkook. “But returning to the apartment is actually terrifying.”

He considers you for a moment, leaning his weight back on the granite countertop. “Do you know what helps me when I’m not confident about something?”

“Getting a stranger to moan your name?”

“Well, yes, but aside from that.” You shrug, and he grins. “I just do it.”

“Wow, Jeon,” you say, with the appropriate amount of eye roll. “Reaching real deep on that one.”

“I mean it!” he urges. “Just need to rip off the band-aid. The longer you dwell on it, the harder it will be in the end.”

That’s…oddly decent advice.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you might have a point,” you say, somewhat thrown off by this flustered, good-advice-giving version of your friend.

“And speaking of things being harder, that last bit of advice also goes for forepl—“

“Aaaaaaand it’s ruined.”

“I’m just saying it has multiple applications!”

“Yeah, it’s time for me to move back out,” you say. “I can’t live with you anymore.”

Jungkook chuckles, rubbing at his jaw. “Tae is going to be devastated though.”

Your head jerks around. “What? Why?”

“Because he likes having you here,” he says, looking at you like you just asked him what color the sky is. “The guy punched out your ex for you. I think it’s safe to say he enjoys having you around.”

You wince at the mention of the club, a nerve jumping in your chest every time you’re reminded that Taehyung almost got arrested defending your honor. Nothing had ever come of the fight, so you’re assuming Jace has chosen to just let it go, and for that, you’re thankful. You never would have been able to live with it if Taehyung had suffered serious consequences over your own personal crisis.

You’d do the same thing for him, sure. But that’s different.

“Jimin and I will miss you too, of course,” Jungkook continues. “And I’m still kind of sad I didn’t get my own shot in on that asshole that night. Dumped a beer on him though.” He smiles at you like he’d be wagging his tail if he had one.

“My hero.”

“Yeah, the mayor said I’m getting a medal.”

“Oh, really? When’s the ceremony.”

“Sunday afternoon.”

You snap your fingers. “Ah, I can’t make it. I have a thing.”

“A thing?”

“Yeah, a super important thing. Way more important than your thing.”

“You’re a heart-breaker, Y/N. My ego will never recover.” He grins again, playfully rapping his fingers against the counter as he stands to grab a drink.

“Yep,” he says, voice muffled on the other side of the fridge door. “Definitely going to miss you around here.”

As Jungkook predicted, Taehyung frowns when he gets home from work and you tell him about your plans to move back into your apartment at the end of the week, perhaps sensing your apprehension about returning to the scene of the crime. He insists he’ll come with you and sleep over the first night for support and to make sure you’re okay being back there.

“Whatever you need,” he says. “You’re not going to face it alone.”

Your apartment is pitch black when you swing the door open, the quietness hovering in the air making you feel like you're suffocating. You flick on the light, and you're struck by how much emptier the space is. Jace definitely came by at some point as all of his things are no longer present: his gaming system, his turntable, the tiny rhino statue he had picked out on your last vacation together. Out of the corner of your eye, you spot a glint of a key on the kitchen counter.

Taehyung tries to give you space by busying himself—turning on lights and opening cabinets in a seeming attempt to take inventory of what Jace left behind. He steals glances at you every now and then as you slowly move through the living room, hands reaching out to lightly brush at the furniture with no real goal in mind. This is supposed to be your home, but you feel like a stranger—the ghosts of late nights binging TV shows, giggling wildly at inside jokes, promising forever lurk around every corner.

When you take a hesitant step inside the bedroom, your breath catches in your throat and you choke on a sob. The bedsheets are still in a tangle, a relic of that night seven weeks ago when your whole world fell apart.

Taehyung senses something is wrong and bolts to your side in an instant, hands steadying you where you slump against the doorframe. He turns you in his arms, and his fingers come up to cradle your face in his direction.

"Don't look at that, look at me," he murmurs, thumbs rubbing away the tears that have begun to fall. "What do you need?"

To run, to hide, to crawl into the deepest hole you can find and scream your lungs out until the pain subsides. But you can't. Instead you focus on the brown of Taehyung's eyes, let it ease you back down until your breathing steadies and your heart rate levels.

"A shower," you finally choke out. "I need a shower."

He takes a final swipe at your tear-stained cheeks and offers up a small smile. "Okay. Where are the towels?"

You nod in the direction of the closet as Taehyung ushers you out towards the bathroom. It feels empty in here too, the single toothbrush staring you down from its holder and counter notably absent of shaving cream and hair gel. You tear your eyes away from the vanity to start the water running, and Taehyung pops up a moment later with a towel in hand and a fresh pair of pajamas he must've found in your dresser.

"Take your time," he says. "And if you need anything, anything at all, just give a shout. I'll be right out here." His cheeks take on a hint of pink when you quirk an eyebrow at him. "I'll close my eyes. Promise."

You thank him as he steps out so you can strip and get into the tub. The water is set to a near-scalding temperature and you welcome the sting, scrubbing away at your skin as if trying to erase all of the memories that are once again flooding back.

Your first date at the art museum, where he pointed to a painting of an extravagant rose garden and said it reminded him of you.

Your first kiss under the stars, the two of you losing track of time as he pulled you in again and again.

Endless Saturdays wandering around the city, not caring where you wound up as long as his hand was in yours.

Planning your someday wedding, his whispered promises of, Soon, beautiful, soon, sealed with a signature wink.

Picking out names for children who would never be born.

The tears are pouring out of you now, but you let them. One cry, you promise yourself. One final, good cry to wash it all away, and then it'll be time to let go for good.

You don't know how long you spend in the shower, but by the time you step back out into the living room, Taehyung has already set himself up with a makeshift bed on the couch. He lifts his head when he sees you and, taking note of your red-rimmed eyes, gets up to pull you into a hug.

For a moment he just holds you, arms banding tight around your shoulders before he says, "I cleaned out your fridge. Most of it was spoiled." He hesitates, pulling back to look at you. "And I changed the bedsheets." A hand rubs at the back of his neck. "I actually ran downstairs and threw them straight in the dumpster, I hope that's okay."

His thoughtfulness overwhelms you, and you'd probably start crying again if not for the fact that you don't think you have a single tear left in your body. As you gape at him, Taehyung interprets your silence for disapproval and quickly adds, "I'll buy you new ones."

You respond by wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him back into you, sinking your face into the crook of his neck as you whisper a, "Thank you."

He seems to falter for a second before returning the hug, and as you give him one last squeeze he steps back, scrutinizing you more closely. "You look like you could use some sleep."

"Yeah," you admit, eyeing the cramped set-up on the couch. "Is that going to be okay for you though?"

"Absolutely," he chimes, bounding over to the couch to settle back in. He has to bend his long legs to fit, toes pressing into the fabric of the arm. "See? Comfy." When he catches the uneasy look on your face, he says, "Honestly. Y/N. Nowhere else I'd rather be."

You give him a hesitant nod—you know it'd be useless to try to convince him otherwise. "Okay. Goodnight."

"Goodnight!" He flips onto his back, popping an arm behind his head and closing his eyes.

You cross the room slowly and, just like last time, find yourself pausing at the threshold of your bedroom. The bed is no longer a mess, fresh sheets now stretched neatly across the mattress, but as you look at it, it strikes you that you have never slept here alone. And while you may have committed yourself to moving on from this moment forward, you know this has the power to break you. Tomorrow, maybe, but right now, you're nowhere near ready for this.

You look back and forth between your bed and where Taehyung is lying, his legs now half-draped over the couch's arm, and you make up your mind.

"Tae?"

"Hmm?" He opens his eyes and turns his head to look at you.

"Can you sleep in here with me?"

He blinks, jaw dropping in surprise. "Uhh…are you sure?"

His hesitancy has you losing some of your nerve, and you have to look away. "I just don't think I can…" You purse your lips and shake your head. "You don't have to. I just—"

"No, it's okay. We can—yeah," he blurts, already standing up.

He sidesteps you in the doorway, taking your hand and pulling you into the room after him with a soft smile. "C'mon. Like I said, whatever you need."

Taehyung pulls back the covers so the two of you can crawl in. It's awkward at first, both of your bodies lying stiff across from each other. Physical affection has never been altogether uncommon for the two of you, but this—lying in the bed you used to share with your ex—feels like crossing a line of intimacy that you've never experienced with him before.

But then Taehyung laughs, reaching over to take your hand in his. "I know we’re a long way from high school, but we can do this, yeah? Not like we haven’t shared a bed before."

It breaks the tension, and you giggle back, looking down at where he's laced your fingers together. His knuckles are still lightly bruised with touches of yellow and green, and you run your free hand over the marks, smile drooping.

"I'm really sorry about this," you murmur.

"I'm not." Taehyung's forehead creases. "I'd do it again."

"Please don't," you say quickly. "If you see him again, just let it go."

He frowns and opens his mouth to respond, but you cut in. "Not because I care about him. I just don't want you getting into any trouble on his account. He's not worth it."

Taehyung briefly clenches his jaw but eventually gives you a slow nod. "Well I think my point was made anyway."

"Thank you," you say, pulling his hand up to brush a light kiss to his bruises. "I know I keep saying that, but I really can't tell you enough."

"You don't need to thank me. I know you'd do the same." His face breaks out into one of his boxy smiles. "Remember when Luna broke up with me, and I barely left the apartment for two weeks? You stopped by every day to make sure I was still eating."

You hum at the memory. It had been two weeks of dropping off take-out and commandeering the boys' kitchen to make large batch meals, even harassing Jimin to give you regular updates on whether or not Taehyung had eaten lunch. Jace had given you grief about it at the time, whining that Taehyung was a grown man who could take care of himself, especially when the two of you had just moved in and were still working on unpacking.

“And my birthday junior year of high school.” He’s quiet as he remembers, eyes fixed on some spot over your shoulder as if he’s rewatching the moments on film. “You got me those shoes I’d been absolutely enamored with.”

His old ones had been falling apart entirely, soles curling away from the fabric like orange peels in the sun. Barely even looking away from the bottle at that point, there was virtually no chance that Taehyung’s father would give him enough money to buy him new ones at the thrift store, let alone the high-end sneakers you’d always catch him subtly staring at every time the two of you wandered around the mall after school.

So of course, you’d done the only logical thing and surprised him with them for his birthday, the look of complete elation on his face making your heart leap in ways you didn’t even know it could.

A touch of joy slips into his expression too now as he picks another recollection out of his brain. "Or that time in college when I got stuck in that bathroom across campus with no toilet paper and you left class to break into the men's room and bring me some."

You scrunch your nose at that, saying, "We swore never to talk about that again!"

Taehyung laughs. "I know, but what I'm trying to say is that that's what we do. We take care of each other."

The truth of the statement hits you like a truck as you're suddenly anchoring yourself in Taehyung's eyes again.

It's as though every moment of the last seventeen years comes rushing back to you all at once—every joy, every celebration, every tear, every heartbreak. And at your side in each memory are the same brown eyes you're staring into right now.

A feeling that you're too scared to place stirs in your chest and has you panicking, and you can see that Taehyung isn't unaffected by the moment either as his lips part and he studies you with a newfound softness. When he reaches up to brush your hair behind your ear, the feeling in your chest swells and snaps, and you bury your face in his chest, tears starting afresh, as he wraps his arms around you.

"I'm here," he whispers. "I'm right here."

You press your hands into his back, clinging to him, and hope the pressure conveys what your words can't—what you don't even have a name for yet.

Your sobs subside after a while, but you stay wrapped up in each other. Right before you fall asleep, one final flashback of Jace leaks into your mind—words he had spit at you before leaving this place that night.

I've never been your priority. No one can be. Not when he's around.

It's hard work dragging yourself awake the next morning, your eyelids heavy and begging you to close them for just five more minutes.

But you realize that the side of the bed next to you is not only empty—it's cold. Reaching out to your nightstand, you flip your phone over to check the time. 10:42. The morning is practically gone.

You pull yourself out of bed and shuffle into the living room where you spot a figure standing in the kitchen. Taehyung is busy at the stove, white t-shirt tight across his shoulders as he works, humming to himself, and you stop for a moment to take him in (was he always this broad?).

"Good mood today?" you say. He turns, flashing you a smile over his shoulder.

"Morning, sleepyhead!" He catches himself, realizing he might sound a little too chipper for the occasion and quietly asks, "How are you feeling?"

"Alright," you shrug, and it's the truth. The seemingly endless crying the night before had been exhausting, but it also provided you with something of a catharsis, leaving you feeling almost refreshed today.

"Good," Taehyung says. He nods to the plate on the counter next to him. "I made pancakes."

"The chocolate chip ones?"

He places a hand over his heart and looks at you in mock offense. “Of course. What do you take me for?”

You laugh and wander over to the dining room table where a bright bouquet of lilies now sits in a vase. Pinching one of the delicate, silky petals between your fingers, you ask, "What's this?"

Taehyung glances over his shoulder again, blushing slightly when he sees what you're looking at. "Oh, I um—" He fumbles for his words. "I ran out to get you some groceries and saw the florist next door. Figured they could, you know, brighten things up in here a little."

"You didn't have to do that," you tell him softly, but he brushes you off with a shrug.

"I wanted to."

You reach for the petals again, the bright orange seeming to cast a glow on your skin like a sunset. “You know these look like—“

“The ones you used to collect on our walks growing up?” He chuckles at your stunned silence. “Yeah, I know.”

It still surprises you sometimes—the depth of his thoughtfulness and how well he knows you—and before you can stop yourself, you’re stepping up behind him at the stove. You wind your arms around his middle, pressing your forehead to the space between his shoulder blades and allowing your breath to warm the cotton of his t-shirt. It’s soft—intimate—and you feel Taehyung tighten up under your touch, his entire body going rigid.

“Y/N—“

“You know you mean the world to me, right?”

It’s a near-whisper—you sound like you’re on the brink of tears—and maybe that’s why Taehyung’s hard lines soften at the sound of your voice, turning in your arms so he can reciprocate the embrace and press a cheek to your temple. He doesn’t say a word, just holds you tight as you lean your face into his chest and inhale the comforting scent of pancake batter, laundry detergent, and honey-scented soap.

You think you could stay here forever.

Last night’s mood seems to linger in the air like little beams of light that warm your skin in the best way. You recall falling asleep in these same arms, this same scent wrapped around you—how it was easily the best sleep you’ve had in weeks.

It's different, this space between you now. Has been since the night in the bathroom. You and Taehyung may have gone through a metric fuck ton of pain over the course of your lives, but there's no denying that this breakup is pushing your friendship into a new form, molding it into a new shape.

You're too nervous to dwell on it, but damn, if you aren't going to take advantage of how good it feels to cling to him right now. You want to wrap yourself around him like a koala—draw your legs around his waist and bury your nose into the hollow space at his collarbone.

What a great way to scare him off too, your brain says, even as your heart argues, He's stuck with you through worse.

You're tempted—seriously considering dragging him over to the couch so you can snuggle him properly—when the fire alarm goes off, the pancake on the stove burnt and blackened.

Taehyung releases you in a flash, spinning to shut off the burner and pull the pan off the stove as you rush to the hallway closet for a broom. You swing it underneath the alarm until the smoke clears, and the device stops its blaring shrieks. As silence filters back in, Taehyung tips the burnt pancake into the trash, the previous moment ruined.

"That'd be our luck to burn this place down your first day back," he jokes.

You tip your head up, already thinking this may have been a bad idea and wishing you were back at the guys' place. "Maybe not the worst thing in the world."

He approaches you slowly but deliberately, raising a long finger to press at your chin until you've lowered your gaze enough to look him in the eyes. Taking your hands in his—gently, so gently—he says, "We're going to breathe life back into this place. I'll be here every day if you want me to be."

"You d—"

"I will. Or Maya or Jimin or Kook." He moves his head so you're forced to look at him even as you try to look away, confronted with the raw sincerity in his eyes. "We'll drown out the bad memories with new good ones."

His voice is CPR, pressing warmth into your chest, and just like that, the suffocating walls around you open up a bit. You can see it, the two of you sitting on the couch watching TV—or maybe you watching him play one of his games—your other friends occasionally dipping in and out as they please.

More orange lilies on the table.

You pull your hands from his and drift to the kitchen counter, picking up the glinting silver key sitting on its surface. Turning back to Taehyung, you press it into his palm, and he stares at you, eyes wide with wonder.

"You're sure?"

You nod, and he curls his fingers around the key like it's something delicate—handling it with the same care you once saw him give a baby bird that had fallen out of its nest in the park when you were thirteen.

"Every day," he promises, pinky wrapping around yours and squeezing. "Just say the word."

a/n: likes, reblogs, and feedback are always appreciated! <3

taglist is open!

#taehyung x reader #taehyung x you #taehyung fluff #taehyung angst #bts x reader #bts x you #bts imagines #taehyung imagines #taehyung fic #taehyung fanfic #bts fluff #bts angst #taehyung #bts fic #bts fanfic

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be-my-ally · 1 month

Text

The Seatbelt Sign is On

A Big Bunny Vignette.

Bunny wants to get tied up, so uh, here we are. Playboy!Reader x 76/77 Elvis - this little plot-less smutty fic is set between The Lisa-Marie & Crash Landing. Although I think it could be read as a standalone. This is pretty much totally unedited, so apologies for any typos.

warnings: 18+ 18+ 18+. Light bondage. No safewords or anything but it is clearly pretty ssc**. Oral, and penetrative sex (p in v), slight overstimulation.

75-77 elvis x playboybunny!reader (established relationship - here's the link for the rest of the series)

wc: 4.2k (miss concise smut is back baby!!)

** ((Spoiler: Elvis does say he has scissors in case she needs to be cut out - but he’s pretty much just holding her down with some ribbon and a seatbelt.))

Elvis often climbed up the stairs with his last burst of energy post-show - happy to collapse and settle in or onto the nearest chair, sometimes not even making it to his bed, taking in the precious hours of rest before the next stop. It meant that even though you were spending a serious number of hours with Elvis, it didn’t leave a whole lot of time that he was lucid or awake enough to actually spend it with you.

You’d worried it was you, to start with, but you’d heard the guys whispering about him lately. About his lack of interest in the girls he flew out to meet him, or the ones waiting back home for him. You’d watched Sam looking you up and down a little smugly in the middle of the conversation as if saying without a word that there was a lack of interest in you too. The rumours that he couldn’t get it up at the moment followed raucous retellings of salacious events from years before that you were sure were heavily embellished if they’d even happened at all. But, despite what they would gossip about, you never would describe Elvis as lacking in some way, and certainly not out loud. Sure, he didn’t always (or even often) have the energy to be intimate with you but when he did he was as considerate and, usually, as fun as ever.

Sometimes though you couldn’t help but feel like it was just…a bit bland. You still blush when you think about those first few flights on Big Bunny, meeting him in next to nothing for that rehearsal. Nothing has really come close in a long time. He certainly wasn’t behaving in the same way, and you felt a little like maybe you had become too comfortable together, or like a married couple or something. A distinct lack of excitement together.

The issue, you thought while brainstorming ways of keeping it interesting, was that despite how brash and forward Elvis could be, he ultimately became quite shy and almost too respectful towards you while you were alone. You knew enough about how his brain worked to know that part of the appeal of the opposite sex was, for him, the perceived softness and ability to at least perform an act of gentle innocence. He could be brazen and arrogant while ordering you to dance for him, to roll his latest dirty film acquisition, yet when he had you alone he’d be almost apologetic, gentle. You didn’t want him to be mean to you, but maybe a little less of the…desperation. If he could just take a little more control again.

It was at the end of a run of shows, Elvis tired but with it, when the answer came to you. He’d been carefully kissing the inside of your thighs, where you lay, still fully dressed on the bed of the Lisa-Marie when you’d moved your hands onto his head in an attempt to impatiently guide him. He’d tutted at you, immediately pulling away from your fingertips trying to bury themselves into his longer hair.

“No, no, no, keep your hands outta the way, baby, gotta let me work.” He returned, but a kiss to a sensitive crease sent your leg knocking into his shoulder. It’s been a while. You can feel his grin even as he pulls away again to look up his lashes at you.

“I told you you gotta stay still, I need my hands for this, can’t be holdin’ you down.” You’re not sure the noise that came out of your mouth could be heard by anything but dogs but he laughs, shaking his head, “What m’I gonna do with you?” You wiggle a little, and there’s a clunk of metal hitting the floor. You both turn to look, and your wide eyes meet his calculating ones.

“You can. You know, if you want.” He stares at the seatbelt now trailing on the floor for a moment longer before responding, turning bashful;

“Uh, well, I don’t know. I wouldn’t wanna pin you - I wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable… I was really only jokin-“ He runs a hand through his hair, pushing it off of his forehead.

“El- it’s ok, really, I think I’d like it.”

“I didn’t, uh, I didn’t - do girls, do ya, do ya, uh, really like that kinda thing?”

“Uh-huh, I think so, or well, maybe not every girl, but I like the sound of it, all tied up and ready for you, just having to take whatever you wanted to give me? Doesn’t that sound good to you too?” While you were talking you could see him looking at the belt, gently stroking your wrist as he considered the proposition, he swallows. You can tell he likes the idea.

“You’d… you just, you’d just let me know if you want out right?” You laugh at his nervous questioning;

“Lord Elvis, what’s running through that mind of yours to do to me that I’d want out?” He shrugs, glancing at the clock.

“Well, not today, baby, gotta be ready for the show in an hour, ‘m gonna, gonna freshen’ up.” And with a pat to your side, he headed to the bathroom, leaving you there.

You realised you might have made an error in judgement bringing it up just then, just when he’d started to get going now you were left with your panties twisted to one side, skirt hitched, alone on the bed with the plane seemingly whizzing past any prospect of an orgasm today.

——————————————————————

“We’re uh, going to Denver, you know, for the uh, burgers.” You pull the headset from your ear, as if blinking at it was staring at him and he would offer you more explanations.

“Oh, yeah… sure, ok.”

“Well, don’t ya wanna come too?” He sounds offended at your noncommittal response, but you don’t really. Truthfully, you still didn’t quite feel like you were rested from the tour yet and you knew it was only a matter of days before you’d be up all hours of the night and day and running ragged after him again. But, he made that dejected sort of hopeful hum that made you cringe at the mere thought of not agreeing to his plans.

“Of course I do - I’ll uh, I’ll be there just as soon as I can.” It’s silent on the other end, and then,

“We’re leavin’ now, so hurry.” Of course he was.

It didn’t occur to you until much later that he didn’t want to go to Denver at all, and definitely not for the burgers - you’d heard Joe ringing from the comfort of Elvis’ fancy car-phone to make sure someone, presumably a pretty Miss Colorado of some sort, was home. Assuring them down the line that Elvis couldn’t come to the phone right now, but if they made sure they were at the airport he’d be there in a few hours for a flying visit. Somehow, you were able to listen to this - your legs nudging his, and his nudging Joe’s, without the slightest jealousy - just a mild sympathy for this girl desperate for the crumbs he was willing to lay. It would be much later that you would realise Denver had nothing to do with this girl either, that it was all an excuse for you. You’d realised there was some kind of ulterior motive to a lesser extent though as soon as you were, quite frankly, shoved into the bedroom as soon as you had boarded.

“Elvis! I’ve got a job to do!” He shakes his head, grinning at you and standing in the way of the door,

“Nu-uh baby, I been thinking about what you said last time.” You didn’t expect that.

“Oh?”

“Yes ma’am, and you’re right.” You really didn’t expect that,

“Oh! Well I can’t say I’m surpr-” You yelp as he pinches your side,

“‘Nough of that, on the bed! I got ‘quipment.” You pause your stride towards the bed, looking at him grinning with his hands on his hips, it was all a bit sudden.

“Um, I didn’t, I mean, I’m not su-” He grins at you,

“I thought you were Miss Confident?” He gets that sly look on his face, his eyes narrowing and crinkling in their corners, “You know… I’ve been readin’ up and I don’t know if I oughta be worried, liking this kind of thing is listed in the DSM you know…” You gulp, your stomach twisting a little, feeling a flush rise up from your chest to your cheeks.

“Jesus El - I’m not the one with equipment! I just like a little…I’m an adult, and I know what I like and I think it’s unfair of you to say that kind of thing, especially when I know what you’ve been up to, and you know Hugh - Elvis stop laughing at me!”

“You’d have thought I was secretly sending you off to the nuthouse baby, the way you were carrying on then,” He manages to get the words out past his giggles, “ ‘s just a bit of ribbon, honey-bunny.” You both feel the rumble of the engine starting up, “C’mon we’re on a time limit.”

“Well, if you’re - if you’re sure…” You bite your lip in nerves.

“Where’d my conf’dent l’il bunny go huh? C’mon baby, ‘s no worries - you’ll like it .”

“Are you - you know what you’re doing?” His mouth gapes a little, wide-eyed.

“Of course!” He looks genuinely offended, for a second before grinning, “I got good at knots in the army don’t you worry.” He winks at you as he salutes, his feet knocking together and you giggle, your tension relieving itself.

“I’d be more reassured if you’d been in the navy.” He swats at you,

“ ‘M better than any of them boys playin’ out on their little boats I tell ya, now hush and let me work here.” Your breath catches again, “don’t worry darlin’ I saw this in a uh, blue movie, don’t ya worry, I know how you like it.”

That did little to calm your nerves - his reassurance that he knew what he was doing too often led to some kind of mild disaster. “Well, ok, but - you’ve got, you’re prepared, right? You got some scissors or, something, haven’t you? In case you hafta get me out quick?”

Elvis puts the bag back onto the bed, holding three fingers up - but his solemn face belies the comedy of the action; “I swear, swear to you, I’ll get you out if you want to be. Not gonna let anythin’ happen to my best bunny.” You look into his eyes pausing for a moment and nod, lying back on the bed. He situates himself between your legs, bending to place a feather-light kiss on the corner of your mouth,

“Aren’t you gonna…?” You shake your wrists at him and he huffs a laugh, his breath fanning over you,

“Gotta get you worked up first baby, ain’t no fun if you’re not ready to wriggle and jiggle around, is it? Now, hush,” He whispers against your skin, “let me work my magic.”

He might not have been focussing his energy through his ‘healing hands’ this time, but you couldn’t deny he did have the magic touch, he barely had to brush his fingers over you, press a thigh against your side, and you were gone from the world, levitating above the bed, above the plane, into the sky above. You’re embarrassingly quick to turn on, making out with Elvis enough to make you squirm. After a minute or so he presses kisses against your clavicle, open-mouthed while his fingers fumble with opening the buttons that stretch from your neck to your thighs, almost immediately shoving his hands around the waistband of your tights and he tugs hard enough that there’s the tell-tale ripping sound of the nylon falling apart - if you’d been more conscious of it you would have rolled your eyes, somehow you never seem to be able to keep a pair for long around Elvis. As it was you were far too distracted to care, relieved simply to be divested of the fabric and you lift your hips to let him roll them off - throwing the destroyed fabric to the corner of the room. His hand supports your back as you lean forward, pulling your arms out of your dress, immediately wrapping them around his neck once you were free.

He’s all-encompassing, someone else might find him smothering, the way his arms seem to be everywhere all at once, caging you against him. But you can’t get enough. Your underwear ends up somewhere, god knows where. You’re reminded again of that revelatory first time when he’s biting nibbling kisses across your chest, tiny pink bruises sucked onto your soft skin, Elvis’ hands pawing at you in that somehow hot clumsy way. He tweaks a nipple and your back arches to meet him, you don’t know when your eyes closed but you open them at the sudden loss of any sensation,

Elvis is sat back on his heels, assessing you, rubbing your thighs firmly. He nods with satisfaction at whatever he sees, reaching up the bed for the ribbon and tugging your wrists towards him. He kisses your pulse, and you wonder if he can feel how it jumps. He tuts when the ribbon twists, wrapping it around several times and looping it over and under before finishing it off with his best attempt at a bow. You make eye contact with each other, and you open your mouth to tease him about it, but he stops you with a pointed finger, his eyes alight.

“Don’t say a word.” You swallow your words, playfully snapping at his finger instead, and he laughs, holding your newly tied wrists above your head as he leans down to kiss you again. It’s somehow dirtier this time, whether because you just feel that way, or because he doesn’t take his time, biting your lip and pushing his tongue into you; forcefully mapping out your mouth. He works his way down, sucking a small, darker bruise on the underside of your left breast, you wonder if it was intentionally close to your heart. You tremble, wriggling against him and after a moment he evidently grows tired of pinning your wrists, his long arms not able to keep them pressed flat while he works down your body and he looks for a way to secure them better.

“Well, I guess we didn’t think this through, honey, it’s not the right kind of headboard, so I s’pose you’ll just hafta keep ‘em there.” He presses your newly tied wrists against the pillows, fingertips brushing the velvet of the headboard and your back arches with the effort of keeping them there. His breath tickles when he returns to his place, and the air over the sticky wetness of your inner thighs makes your arms involuntarily attempt to come back down to hold him in place. Elvis tuts at you, leaning back.

“’S no good. You’re wriggling around too much.” He stands up, his hands on his hips to assess your predicament. He sits back down and peers down the side of the bed. “C’mere.” He hauls your body up and you wriggle up with him until you were high enough up the bed that your back was now supported by one of the cream-golden reading cushions and he was able to pull the seatbelt across your stomach.“Keep your hands there.” He pats them at the top, and you grip the top of the headboard as best you can. “Where was I?”

You’ve lost all ability to speak, simply too turned on to comprehend what’s going on. There’s the barest hint of sweat beading above his eyebrow and glistening on his dark, longer, sideburns. Your hands twitch to cup his face and you whine in frustration, unable to reach where he kneels between your legs, your fingers clutching the dusty top of the headboard, desperate not to ruin the game. He grins, tongue running over his teeth, and you thump your head back against the hard cushion,

“Elvis, c’mon.”

“I’m havin’ fun now, baby,” He sing-songs it delicately and you shiver, “Gonna get you so worked up.” His thick hands grasp your thighs, fingertips digging in, “C’mon, bunny, open up for me.” You have no idea if the growl that comes from his mouth was intentional, or if it just had the unintended side effect of your legs immediately spreading, your breath hitching. He leans in and you feel yourself tense, hairs pricking with the tension of the moment, desperately anticipating his next move.

Elvis is clearly not unaffected by the sight of you - his breathing much harder than before and it tickles as he gently kisses your inner thigh, his pouty lips open. The very tip of his tongue ghosts across your skin, and you shudder at the sensation, aching for him.

“Elvis you’ve gotta - you’ve gotta touch me.”

“I am touching you.” His fingertips continue to dance, and you try to squirm a little, the seatbelt trapping you in place.

“Nooo. Properly.” He chuckles,

“Properly” He teases with a shake of his head and you whine again,

“Ssh, shhh, I’mma take real good care of you, bunny, just relax baby,” He firmly rubs at your thighs, as if he wasn’t the reason you were squirming. You let your head roll back again, suddenly distracted as he teases you by the sight of yourself in the mirror at the end of the room, the dark mahogany of the wood-covered room and the dim light reflecting off of the creamy ceiling putting you into a soft-glow focus. You can barely see yourself beyond him, he takes up the majority of your view, and though the concept is hot to you, fully clothed as he was, it left little to look at - just your twitching tied wrists, above both of your bodies, really visible.

Finally he’s kissing across your bare skin and you’d forgotten somehow, impossibly, in the time since you’d last been together like this, just how good he was at this. You’re already so sensitive, you can feel the cooling dampness in the air, and yet it still comes as a surprise at his first kitten licks how responsive you were to him. He presses one hand against your thigh, fingers leaving bruises from his tight grip, holding you totally open to him. Elvis leans back a little, grinning at your attempts to grind on nothing, and you might be ashamed at such a wanton display in the morning but right now you just need the pressure back. He spreads your slick folds with his flattened tongue, moving his fingers in to keep you spread open so that he can lick up to your clit, sucking on the little nub and sending you shuddering.

Your legs are the only part of you able to move, and you wrap them around his, now thicker, waist holding him against you until the movement of his talented tongue and fingers make them kick out. For some reason, even though he wasn’t doing anything new, being secured down like this was making everything feel ten times more - like someone had turned your sensitivity up on a dial. He tongue-fucks into you, and it’s so hard to keep your hands where they are, writhing around as you were, desperate to hold him in place - gain better purchase to grind against his clever, talented tongue.

The singular focus he dedicates to this task always reminds you of that first time and having him so committed only adds to your enjoyment. Elvis renews his efforts, suckling like he needs you for oxygen, and the warm wet pressure builds until finally, you’re shuddering over the edge of orgasm, legs spasming and your back arching as much as it was able to do so - and the tension of the seatbelt across your body - pinning you down far more than you would usually be held, has you electrified, adding to your startling passion. You pant, trembling as he leans back, it’s scandalous how he smiles at you, catching his breath, lips glistening with your slick and you try to form words to tell him how earth-shattering that vision is, but you struggle from the sheer anticipation of watching him stand up.

“El- Honestl-El, how’d you, it’s so good. You need, I need you -“

You cut yourself off, panting, as Elvis finally, finally, slips out of his lounge pants and jacket. His tanned hairy chest unveiled itself, a perfect trail leading down to his hard cock, its pink head poking out, glossy with his precum. You shudder, and he grins at you wildly for a moment, before seemingly focussing on the task at hand, clambering back atop you. He mutters the same thing he always mutters as he presses himself into you,

“Y’re good, y’re a good girl, bunny, swear it - y’re so, fuck, so tight.” It probably shouldn’t make your chest glow so much. He presses a hand on your stomach, just below where the seatbelt pins you to the bed - holding you in place for him to get himself situated. The firm pressure is almost enough to tip you over the cliff again. You realise you’re babbling, muttering pleas when Elvis kisses your sweaty cheek, hushing you. He jerks his hips once, twice, in time with your gasps before he growls, evidently incapable of getting the angle right and you suddenly feel yourself being tugged down the bed, hands leaving the headboard and seatbelt scraping your skin until you were lying mainly flat, mostly immobile.

“That’s it, that’s - that’s better - that good for you Bunny?” He doesn’t give you time to respond, laughing to himself, “ ‘course it is. You’re like one of them kids toys, what’re they called, those, those, slip n’, slip n’ slides. So fucking wet down here.” You nod frantically in agreement, stuttering out that you were fine, it was all good - but please, Elvis, please, just move.

It’s a strange sensation, being unable to use yourself to get leverage, and it feels almost objectifying. Lying there just to be used, but you liked it, and Elvis took advantage, pulling and tugging to exactly the pace and angle he needed to chase his own pleasure. You plant your feet, when you manage to get purchase, able to use your thighs to your advantage a little. You can feel the edge rising, but before you get there Elvis stills, his mouth agape, sweat beading at his forehead and eyebrow, upper lip aglow with it, and you feel him pulsing. His hand comes down to stroke between your folds, as he slowly pulls out, and you shake your head - it was almost too much, but he hushes you,

“Shh. Wanna see you go again, it’s only fair - ’n’t that the reason I got you all tied up like this.” You tremble, and he presses his thumb against you, it’s filthy, the viscous mix of your fluids. Elvis deftly rubs your clit, and your body shakes through the waves of orgasm until you squirm away from his fingers, completely overstimulated,

“El- El, that’s that’s enough, I can’t - fuck, that’s too much - too much,” He laughs at you, stroking you a final time as your legs twitch. You lie there panting for a long while, and Elvis gets up before you do, cutting the ribbon off of you, not bothering to deal with the knots that had tightened as you struggled, and heading to grab a drink from the little dressing table alcove at the end of the room while you caught your breath.

The ribbon had done pretty well at keeping your hands together, he’d done them up tight enough that they’d laid fairly flat and untwisted, but still, when you rubbed your wrists there was a light mark and the hint of soreness, especially around the outside edge of your forearm. You unbuckle yourself, sitting upright slowly.

Clearly, there’s a reason people don’t usually use seatbelts like this. The rough edge of the nylon had rubbed you where you’d wriggled around, the lines criss-crossing, while the heavy weight of the gold buckle had left indents - several of which you were sure were going to bruise. You didn’t mind that so much, pressing a finger into the darkest of the marks.

“Good Lord Elvis, I look like I’ve been whipped or something!” He glances back at you in the mirror where you’re now fully upright, brushing your fingers over the pink marks. He points a finger at your reflection,

“No chance in goddamn hell. Nope. There’s not enough space - don’t you go gettin’ any ideas now, li’l girl. Absolutely fuckin’ no.”

---------

taglist: @lookingforrainbows @ellie-24 @thatbanditqueen @whositmcwhatsit @vintageshanny, @doll-elvis @18lkpeters @prompted-wordsmith @richardslady121 @meetmeatyourworst @marriedtopresley @steph-speaks @a-literal-no-name @elvisabutler @precious-little-scoundrel @eliseinmemphis @iloveelvis @literally-just-elvis-fics @livelaughlove-talia @angelborn1 @amydarcimarie @peskybedtime @shakerattlescroll @i-r-i-n-a-a @saintomie @literally-just-elvis-fics @missmaywemeetagain @rainyday10-4 @chelsaiswerid @landlockedmermaid77 @mydarlingelvis @ooihcnoiwlerh @from-memphis-with-love

#elvis presley fanfiction #elvis fanfic #elvis smut #be-my-ally #elvis x oc #elvis x reader #big daddy elvis #elvis fanfiction #big bunny #big bunny vibes #elvis x playboy reader #elvis x you

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neighboringheart · 2 months

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valvedom Perceptor my beloved...him and Brainstorm working together in the lab and Brainstorm getting horny and bugging him until Perceptor pops his panels and lets him have some fun under one condition: no overloading until he finishes his calculations

Brainstorm pressing in slowly so he doesn't disturb the desk Percy aways gets mad when he jostles it and grinding so carefully feeling every single inch of his valve pressing in until the tip just kisses the entrance to his forge his frame shaking from the overwhelming pleasure mixed with Perceptor's complete indifference not even reacting when Brainstorm grinds against his ceiling node

the most Brainstorm ever gets out of him is a short "adequate" or "satisfactory" and on rare and wonderful occasions he'll get to feel Percy's valve ripple with a small shudder but that happens so rarely that sometimes he think he imagines it

him completely lost in it all fluids dripping from their connection to the floor as Brainstorm's vents heave with each steady rock of his hips he's ben on the edge for hours and Perceptor hasn't spoken a single word fully engrossed in his work like Brainstorm isn't even there but that just gets him hotter

he's practically furniture to him in those moments just another part of the room completely inconsequential with only one directive: obey

no matter how much his spike pulses with thick charge he cannot overload until he is allowed no matter how wet and pliant and delicious Perceptor's walls feel around him his internal nodes prickling with his own building overload he cannot spill until it is allowed

once his vision has nearly turned entirely to static drool leaking from the gaps in his mask barely cognizant he feels it Perceptor's hand is on his cheek

"such a good boy. you may proceed."

his optics short out entirely as his spike finally slams home spilling fervent gushes of thick transfluid directly into Perceptor's forge his walls milking every last drop out of him in a shared overload

he comes down slowly his hips still grinding of their own accord

"got it all out of your system? good. clean this up."

and he will he'll clean everything spotless using nothing but his glossa including Perceptor's swollen valve lips until he's completely satisfied just like every other time they play

#nh feral posting #transformers #mtmte #simpatico #brainstorm #perceptor #valveplug #and then when they're done percy will whip his own spike out to have a little fun with brainstorm's oh so interesting intake #he just loves the way his transfluid leaks out of his cheek vents #and rutting into them is even more intriguing #something about these two makes me ravenous and I hope everyone else understands #this is like. tame for them #I just know they'd have the weirdest interface imaginable

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matts-k1tten · 1 month

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𝐖𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐦𝐞. Pt.6

Pt.5

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧

summary: y/n finds her boyfriend (now ex) Chris cheating on her at a party and vows to make him feel the way she did..but in this part it switches between the characters pov’s and gets everyone’s perspective on the current situation..

warnings: swearing, slight angst, sad ass chapter man 😭

no more color coding bc i’m to lazy for that shit.

(chris pov)

“I’m done, you paid me to keep my mouth shut and I realized how stupid I was to accept that! I’m done!” I yell into the phone. “I’ll pay you more! Do not tell anyone!” The person on the other line says. “I don’t care about the money! I should’ve chose y/n over you!” I shout and hang up. I plop on my bed and cover my face with my hands.

What am I gonna do?

(y/n pov)

It’s been 2 days.

2 days of thinking, 2 days of regret, and 2 days of guilt. I just don’t know what to do I’m stuck.

Here I am now lying on my bed losing hope of everything that I once believed in. Chris and I, repairing the triplets bond, and all the rest. Don’t get me wrong I still love Chris but I can’t be with someone who is a cheater. I’m staring at my ceiling trying to brainstorm ideas to make the triplets bond normal again and Chris and I at a good place. Nothing came out yet. Every idea leads to a dead end. I know deep down that their relationships will never be the same again.

But I just refuse to believe it.

All I could do is lay in bed and grief about it. Someone else’s family was falling apart and it was my fault. I was truly alone now. Nick hates me, Matt doesn’t want to speak to me and Chris…Chris…is feeling the same way I am right now. My ideas kept hitting dead ends after dead ends after dead ends. It was like everything I thought of gets shut down right away. The only thing I could do was think and think and think and get nowhere.

With all my thinking I go deep into my thoughts.

Chris was all over me before the weeks he stopped answering me. Why did he randomly start to ghost me?

(nicks pov)

“Nick!” Matt screams from the stairs. “I’m going out! Make sure to lock the doors ‘nd shit” Matt says from below the stairs. “You’re going out again?” I ask. “Yeah? Why not?” Matt replies. I shake my head to myself. “Nothing, have fun!” I yell at Matt and hear him walk down the stairs and out the house.

This whole thing is a disaster. Ever since y/n left, Matt has been going out a lot, I don’t even know where he’s going, and I haven’t seen Chris come out his room once. I only hear him in the early hours of the morning in the kitchen getting a snack or something. Other than that I barely see him anymore.

I’m watching a movie with popcorn when I hear faint knocks on my door. I look at the door and pause the movie. “Come in”

The door opens and Chris steps in with his hair a mess, eyes red and puffy, and had a blanket wrapped around his body. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days. Chris doesn’t look at me as he waddles over to the other side of my bed and crawls in. I pull that blanket over him and rub his back that’s faced to me. “Do you wanna talk about it?” I whisper. Chris shakes his head no. “Not today.” Chris mumbles. “Okay.” I whisper and pat his back softly as he shuts his eyes and quickly drifts off to sleep, breathing loudly.

I sigh and shake my head, turning away from him. It’s just, something seems really off with the whole thing. I know Chris he wouldn’t just..cheat on y/n he loves her so much. This doesn’t feel right. I need to get to the bottom of this.

(matt’s pov)

The sky, the stars, the moon, everything is beautiful at night. It makes me feel calm. The night helps me think. I love to sit under the moon and stars and just think, about everything. I’m not a party type of guy. I don’t drink much, I sure as hell don’t smoke, I can’t dance and I don’t have the energy to deal with any sweaty, drunk people. I love being alone. It’s better than being surrounded and overwhelmed by my brothers constantly asking questions. What really been on my mind is y/n.

Not just y/n, Chris, Nick, and everything else like how did this happen..? Digging really deep into my thoughts I never really thought Chris was the one to cheat on his girlfriend let alone y/n. He’s in love with her he’d never do such a thing. But what possessed me to try to sleep with her? I’ve always found her attractive but I never felt attracted to her like that. Was it the drinks? The vibe? Or me in general?

“Fuck” I whispered to myself. I needed to calm down and make things right. But I have a feeling this will forever impact our relationship. But we have to get somewhere right? I just…need more time to process things.

(mia’s pov)

“Shit.” I whisper to myself. “Why won’t that work?” I ask the person on the other line. “Cause it just won’t! now make another plan or this thing is gonna fail, got it?” The person on the other line says. I sigh harshly. “Got it.” I whisper as the like cuts off leaving me there. This whole thing was just very, very complicated. But it was kind of entertaining.

Yea, yeah I know that y/n is my best friend ‘n all but sometimes I get satisfaction when I see drama. Don’t call me crazy but I think this whole thing is fun! It’s not my problem and all I have to do is sit around and watch what goes down. Or do I have to watch?

(nicks pov)

it’s been about a few hours since Matt left and it’s about 1am. Chris is still asleep in my room and I’m just sitting on the couch cooling down, thinking about everything. I really can’t get my mind off the whole thing. Chris cheating on y/n, Matt even trying to sleep with y/n, and Mia..she really is the different one here. She doesn’t even play a role in this situation she’s only here because y/n is her best friend. Which to be honest doesn’t feel right to me. I mean, why is she here if she shouldn’t be? This isn’t even her problem and she’s sure as hell not included in it so why is she just spectating?

Who is the girl Chris cheated on y/n with? Do we know her? Does Mia know her? Did Chris know her?

My thoughts were cut short when Chris calls my name from my room. I pause my thoughts and answer. “Yeah?” I yell from the living room. “Can you c’mere” I put down my snacks and stomp up the stairs to my room and meet Chris sitting up on my bed. “You ready to talk?” I ask. He nods and pats the spot next to me. I walk over to the spot next to Chris and look at the side of his face as I crawl on. Chris takes a deep breath and starts. “I…don’t know what happened when I did it.” Chris breathes out. He looks at me and I nod for him to keep going.

He turns away. “I love y/n with my whole heart I really do.” He sighs and shakes his head. Suddenly, his body language changes. It sorta looks like he’s growing frustrated. “I can’t hide it anymore.” He whispers. My face cringes with confusion. “What?” I whisper and put my hand on his shoulder. “It wasn’t my fault!” He screams and starts to cry. “It’s okay! You’re alright.” I say and pull him into a hug. He shakes and lets out sobs while clinging onto my shirt.. “I-it was-“ Chris gets cut off by Matt bursting through the door.

“Chris I’m sorry!” Matt screams with his hand still cupped around the knob. Chris looks up and meets Matt’s eyes. Matt’s face changes when he notices the state Chris was in. “Oh shit.” Matt whispers and walks slowly over to Chris. Chris leans away from my hug and looks at Matt who is now in front of him. Matt shakes his head still looking at Chris. “I’m sorry, Chris I really am. I was wrong and I shouldn’t have talked to y/n, you’re my brother and I should’ve gotten your side of the story first and-“ Chris lunges at Matt pulling him into a hug making Matt stop talking. Matt hesitates for a moment before wrapping his arms around Chris and hugging him back.

Chris lets out a sigh of relief and squeezes Matt harder.

I smile and pat Chris’s back. Chris pulls one arm away from Matt and yanks me into the hug. I laugh and hug them back.

(y/n’s pov)

I feel so alone. I feel like someone dug a hole in my chest and ripped out my heart. I feel like I need a hug. So with that, I dragged myself out of bed, brushed my teeth, threw on a hoodie and drove myself to Mia’s.

I arrived at her front door in a matter of minutes and used her spare key under her doormat and let myself in. I shut the door behind me quietly and heard Mia talking to someone. I thought she had someone over until I heard my name.

“Y/n is gonna figure out soon, how do we prevent that?” Mia says.

I assume she’s on the phone since I didn’t hear anyone reply.

“I don’t know Makayla! Didn’t you already say that Chris called you this morning, wanting to stop!”

Makayla? As in my ex-best friend?

She goes silent, listening to her voice. “Well clearly paying off everything of his isn’t enough!”

What the fuck?!

“I only did this because I never liked y/n and I wanted the money you gave me to do this whole thing!” Mia yells.

Ouch.

I quietly tip toe out the house and quietly shut the door, running to my car and hopping in. I throw my car in drive and speed away from Mia’s house. I couldn’t help the tears that poured from my eyes.

My best friend is against me?

——————————————————

a/n: i’m so sorry it took so long to post guys im working on so much things right now and i had to decide on how this part was going to go so i hope yall like it and enjoy!!

taglist: @vinniehackerslefttoe @stars4matt @stunza @goldenminutes @mama-84 @realuvrrr @braindead4l @mattsjournal @chrislapdog @gvf23 @emma4eva @cosmicmistake42069 @breeloveschris @sturnsjtop @cammie4298 @rubyjaneaxx @sturniol0s

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fallinallincurls · 10 months

Text

all’s well that ends well to end up with you

here is my entry for @wyattjohnston’s summer fic exchange 2k23!! this fic is for @ya-pucking-nerd !! i had so much fun writing this and i hope you love it just as much! writing cale has always been a favorite of mine and this one was no exception. and shutout to @tonyspep as always for brainstorming so much of this idea with me!

i ALSO made a playlist for this fic which you can listen to here!

hope you enjoy!! feedback is always appreciated! xx

word count: 5.3k

~~~~~

Cale’s offseason has hardly started, yet his phone is already lighting up with a call from you to no doubt make summer plans before he heads back to Calgary to enjoy time with his family and to start his summer training.

It’s not unusual for his best friend to call him and the soft, giddy smile on his lips at just the sight of your name on his phone display is nothing new either, but when the call connects and words are practically spewing from your lips, he knows something must be wrong.

“Woah, woah, woah. Slow down. I can’t understand a word you’re saying.” Cale cuts you off, trying to figure out what’s going on.

“I said,” You emphasize, taking a deep breath to ensure you speak slower this time, “you got invited to Ryan’s wedding right? The one that’s in a few weeks in Montana?”

“Yeah, I did. What about it?”

“Well, uh, I kinda realized that showing up by myself would be lame right? Like this guy used to be insanely in love with me, but now he’s getting married and I’m, well, not even close to being in a relationship let alone a serious one.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that. You and Ryan are still friends so it won’t be awkward and I’ll be there so you won’t be bored at any point.” Cale replies, still confused as to what you’re getting at.

“We are still friends, but I have to prove that I’m doing just as well as he is, you know? So I have a plan. Well, more of a question before a plan.” You explain, feeling the nerves creep in as the moment about revealing what you’ve been thinking of asking Cale nears with each passing second.

“Okay…”

“What do you think about going as a fake couple? Like we’re dating but it’s obviously not real? Just to prove to Ryan that I’ve moved on and am doing better! He already knows we’re friends and I don’t think it’d be that hard for us to come up with a story and act all lovey dovey together for a few days.”

Cale is silent on the other line and you have a sick feeling in your stomach that you’ve really messed up. It was a stupid idea anyway. Why would he agree to it? He might be your best friend, but asking him to fake date you? It wasn’t that smart.

“So what’s our story?” Cale asks after a moment, trying to hide the smile growing on his lips that you can’t see anyway.

“Our story?”

“Yeah, if we’re going to make this convincing we have to be on the same page about how we met, the first time we said ‘I love you,’ some funny moments that have happened since we got together. Stuff like that.”

Before you can even begin to think about everything Cale just mentioned, your heart begins racing and a grin is on full display across your face.

“So you’re in?” The question is full of excitement and Cale can’t help but chuckle in response.

“Of course I’m in. I’d do anything for you Y/N. Plus, I think it would be fun to finally get back at Ryan for what he did to you.” Cale replies, trying desperately to ignore the butterflies erupting in his stomach. You squeal on the other end of the line and jump right into ironing out the details so there isn’t anything missed that can foil the plan.

Cale pays attention because he has to, but he knows he’s in trouble. He just agreed to be your fake boyfriend for a whole weekend. Cale’s already hiding how he really feels about you and he has a feeling getting a taste of what he wants so badly will only make him fall even harder.

“Okay,” You say, clicking your seatbelt back into place as the plane begins its descent and turning your gaze to the blue eyed, rosy cheek boy next to you. “Remember our story?”

Cale playfully rolls his eyes at the question you’ve asked about a hundred times since you both boarded the short flight to Montana. “Yes, I do. We met in one of the business classes we were both taking together at the University of Denver when I was working towards finishing my degree in my free time. You had no idea I played hockey and after I asked for a pen that day in class, we started hanging out together. The rest is history.” He recites the story of how you actually met with a smile. “Our anniversary is April 29th, we’ve already met each other’s families and we couldn’t be any happier together.”

“Good job!”

“Most of our fake relationship is based off of how we really met so it isn’t that hard to remember, Y/N.” Cale teases, earning a small chuckle from you in response.

“I know and that will only make it more convincing, don’t you think? Being best friends and having history together already gives us an advantage. I just hope it works.”

“It will.” Cale murmurs, intertwining his fingers with yours and giving your hand a squeeze. You give him a sweet smile in return, before you begin talking about how excited you are about all the plans that are in place for the moment you land. He has to try and remember none of what happens between the two of you this weekend will be real, but that won’t stop him from taking it all in as if this was his real life even if just for a short amount of time.

Best friends, nothing more. Best friends, nothing more.

The words repeat in his head when the plane lands, as you both gather your luggage from baggage claim and throughout the entire cab ride to the resort where the wedding is being held. And just when Cale thinks the reminder is concrete and that nothing will sway him, he opens the door to your assigned hotel room and he stops breathing as he freezes in the threshold.

“Cale? What’s wrong?” You ask from behind him, unable to see around his broad shoulders into the luxurious room. He doesn’t say anything at first, just shuffles through the door and you’re about to tease him until you see the single king size bed in the middle of the room. “Oh.”

“Uh, there’s only one bed.” Cale states the obvious as if both of you aren’t already staring at the bed. “I swear I booked a room with two separate queens, but there must have been a mixup or something. I can check with the front desk to see if we can be moved and if not, I can just sleep on the floor. You can have the bed. That’s fine. It’ll work if-”

“Cale.” You say his name firmly, holding his wrist in an attempt to get him to look at you. He has flipped into rational thinking mode because of the issue at hand, but you know calming him down is the first step in telling him it’s all okay. “You will not be sleeping on the floor. I won’t allow it. That will kill your back and you know it.” “But-”

“No buts. We’re only here for two nights. Sleeping in the same bed won’t be the end of the world for us. How many times have we fallen asleep on the couch together? Or taken a pregame nap? This is no different. I promise.” Your words are soft and visibly make Cale relax. He knows you’re right, but a large part of him knows he won’t be able to handle being that close to you in such an intimate setting even if it’s under the guise of a fake relationship.

“You’re right.” Cale sighs, calming himself down and realizing the situation isn’t as bad as he thought it is. “We can do this.”

You offer him a sweet smile before walking further into the room and dropping your suitcase to the ground. “Do you want to explore the town today since we’re here a day early? I looked up the usual touristy things and places to eat just in case.” Cale looks at his watch and shrugs, feeling happiness surge through him at the thought of wandering through a new place with you.

“That sounds perfect. I’ve never been to Montana before so getting to spend a little time in the town would be really nice.” Cale doesn’t mention how spending all that extra time with you is really what he’s looking forward to most. He would go anywhere in the world if it meant being by your side.

“Then what are we waiting for?” You say excitedly, grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the door. And if your heart races a little faster than usual when Cale chuckles and follows behind, no one has to know.

Cale wasn’t kidding when he said he’s never been to Montana before, but he has to admit the little town not far from the resort is the cutest place he’s ever seen. Little storefronts line the streets and both locals and tourists take their time enjoying the cozy town. The scenery is gorgeous too, snow capped mountains extending high into the bright blue sky, but there’s nothing quite like the joy on clear display across your face at every new experience you and Cale do while exploring.

So far, you’ve stopped in various antique shops, a bookstore, two art galleries and took a tour of the local distillery. You haven’t stopped smiling at all and Cale can practically feel his heart swell every time you turn to him with nothing but excitement and adoration.

You’re walking down the busy street next to Cale, still trying to take in the entire scene when your stomach growls. The lighthearted laugh that you love so much slips past Cale’s lips and you can’t help but smile at the beautiful sound.

“Sorry,” You giggle. “I guess we should find somewhere to go for dinner, huh? I didn’t even realize how late it was.”

“Want to try that restaurant we passed before that looked good?” Cale suggests and you nod in agreement. As you both turn in the opposite direction to head back to the establishment, Cale takes a subtle leap of faith and intertwines his fingers with yours. He argues it’s just to get used to faking a relationship especially around other people, but when you smile up at him and squeeze his hand in response, he can’t help but think maybe, just maybe, you feel the same way about him.

That would be crazy though. Cale knows that.

He pushes those thoughts out of his head and focuses on dinner with you. The meal is full of laughter and recounting shared memories which fill both of your hearts to the brim. By the time you’ve both finished eating and had a few glasses of wine, the sun has fully set and the road is calmer than it was earlier.

When the waiter comes back with the check, you thank him before Cale insists on paying and you don’t object because you know he won’t budge. You try to stifle a yawn as he signs the receipt, but he somehow notices everything so it’s no surprise he asks the obvious question.

“Sleepy?” Cale chuckles, putting all his attention on you again. You feel your cheeks heating under his attentive, but soft gaze.

“A little. It’s been such a good day, just a little long.” You reply with honesty and Cale nods along in agreement.

“Well, we can’t have you falling asleep during the ceremony tomorrow so we should probably head back.”

“I guess so.” You smile at Cale before following closely behind to exit the restaurant. “Although having you there will already make the whole wedding more bearable. Thank you again for this.”

“It was an easy decision to come along with you. Plus, I can’t wait to see Ryan’s face tomorrow when he sees us together as a couple. Besides getting to spend time with you in this beautiful place, that will make the whole trip worth it.”

You giggle because the mental image is hilarious. Although the walk back to the resort isn’t long, you lean into Cale, who wraps his arm around you, and take in the serene moment. Any worries or anxieties about spending a whole day tomorrow fake dating your best friend have seemingly disappeared which you couldn’t be more grateful for. You’re determined to just enjoy the day with him and not let your feelings get tangled with whatever may happen to convince everyone at the wedding that you’re actually together.

It can’t be that hard.

But when you return back to the hotel room ready to watch a movie and call it a night, Cale seems nervous and jumpy again. It must still be the one bed situation even though you reassured him earlier that it’s fine.

“Um,” Cale starts, his voice quiet and shy. He meets your gaze for a few seconds before looking away. “Is it okay if I take the bathroom first?”

“Yeah, of course! Go ahead. I’ll just get changed real quick while you’re in there. My nighttime routine isn’t anything crazy anyway.” You chuckle, hoping to ease some of the obvious tension Cale seems to be experiencing. With a nod and a gentle smile, Cale disappears into the en suite bathroom which leaves you scourging through your suitcase for the pajamas you packed. “Where in the world are they?” You mutter to yourself before finding the set buried all the way at the bottom.

With a silent celebration, you quickly switch out your jeans for the comfy shorts and right as you’re pulling the shirt you’ve been wearing all day off, the bathroom door creaks open. Before he can catch a glimpse of anything, you face away from him and call out, “Cale! Just turn around a minute, please?”

He does as you ask, he wouldn’t ever overstep like that. But Cale’s breath was already stolen away from those brief, accidental seconds when he got to see the smooth expanse of your back, the gentle curve of your breast and your hair spilling over your shoulders.

His mind is going a million miles a minute, trying to remind him that that’s his best friend he’s thinking about this way. You’ve always been gorgeous and he’s known that since you met, but something about this moment is striking him in an entirely new way. Maybe it’s the small proximity of the hotel room. Maybe it’s that his feelings for you continue to get stronger and stronger with each passing minute.

Cale has no idea, but he’s in big trouble either way.

“Okay!” Your voice interrupts his thoughts, “I’m all good. You can turn back around.” Cale lets out a sigh when he sees your bright smile and how cozy you look in the matching blue pajama set. “All good?” You double check while trying not to make it obvious that you’re taking in just how adorable Cale looks right now.

“All good. Want me to pick the movie? And do you, uh, prefer a certain side of the bed?”

“Yes, pick the movie. Whatever you want! And nope, I’m not picky.” With that, you disappear into the bathroom for a few moments as Cale settles in. By the time you reemerge only a few minutes later, you see he picked a movie you’ve both watched a thousand times and claimed the right side of the bed. He looks so soft and cuddly which makes your heart skip a beat just at the sight of him.

Cale pats your side of the bed and gives you that sweet smile you adore so much. After slipping under the covers and plugging your phone in, he starts the movie. Despite how weird sharing a bed felt hours ago, now there’s nothing but comfort evident in this moment. You don’t know how much of the movie you actually watch before you start drifting off, head resting against Cale’s shoulder. But the last thing you remember before sleep takes over is Cale whispering a quiet “Goodnight, Y/N.”

The warm sunlight shines through the hotel room curtains, pulling you out of the peaceful dream currently unfolding in your mind. You slowly blink your eyes open and get reacquainted with where you are, in Montana with Cale for the wedding, when you realize that you’re wrapped up in a strong embrace and your head is resting against your best friend’s chest.

And before you even have time to realize you’re both practically snuggled up together which somehow must’ve happened during the night, you notice Cale’s beautiful blue eyes are focused on you and there’s a lazy, but adorable smiling donning his lips. His hair is messy from sleep and his cheeks are already rosy. He looks like a dream.

A part of you thinks that you could get used to this, but that reality still seems so far away and unlikely to happen. So you might as well enjoy the moment when it’s here.

You match his grin, lean up a little to get a better view of him and start absentmindedly playing with the loose collar of the old t-shirt he’s wearing. He watches you, waiting with patience for you to say something.

“You drool in your sleep, Makar.”

“Hm, do I?” Cale laughs softly, rubbing a hand up and down your back while the other brushes some loose hair behind your ear. “Well, I guess I should make it up to you by letting you shower first, huh?”

“That would be the gentlemanly thing to do.”

“Bathroom’s all yours then. Just let me get in there at some point before we have to leave, please. I can’t show up with my hair looking like this.”

“Your bedhead is so cute though! I don’t think anyone would mind.” You tease him back, the happiest laugh escaping past your lips as you untangle yourself from the blankets to head towards the bathroom. The moment the door closes behind you and the sound of the shower running can be heard, Cale lets out a sigh while scrubbing his hands over his face.

That felt a little too real for Cale’s liking if he’s going to try and keep all his feelings under the guise of pretending. But he’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the banter and soft moment of waking up next to you.

As he listens to you sing a Taylor Swift song while getting ready, Cale goes through his usual routine before beginning to get dressed in his favorite suit. He happens to know it’s also your favorite suit of his so maybe, just maybe, he picked it for that reason too. He’s just fixing the navy blue tie you told him to wear so he’d match your dress when you step out of the bathroom and Cale has another moment where it feels like he can’t breathe.

You hadn’t told him anything about the dress minus its color prior to this very moment. The beautiful navy blue fabric hugs your body in all the right places and stops mid calf to showcase the pretty heels you picked to match. Cale also can’t help but notice the slit that shows off your left leg too. The straps are tied in bows at your shoulders and the dress is perfect, yet simple and you look absolutely stunning.

But Cale’s gaze catches on the glittering bracelet on your right arm. The one he gifted you as a graduation gift. The one you’ve told him you only wear for special occasions. It almost shocks Cale to his core that you’re wearing it now, but his heart couldn’t be happier.

“Wow. Y/N, you look gorgeous. So pretty.” Cale manages to get out, eyes still taking the sight of you. The bright smile that takes over your face rivals the sun which makes him practically melt on the spot. Cale knows then, more than ever, that he’s hopelessly in love with you.

“Thank you,” You say, voice shy and gentle. “You look really handsome yourself, Cale.” And he does. He’s wearing your favorite suit of his and looks incredible as always. Your heart swells just looking at him.

“Thanks,” He replies with a sweet smile before you close the space between the two of you to readjust his tie. That same surging emotion from last night rushes through his veins at the close proximity to you and when you pat his chest, signaling your work is done, he meets your gaze and takes a few seconds to remember every detail of this moment. “All ready to go?” Cale asks simply, trying to make sure he looks unaffected by what just happened.

“Mhm. Remember our story for when people ask because you know they will and we both know each other’s boundaries with PDA, so we’ll stick to what’s appropriate there, yeah?” Your best friend nods in response as he slips his fingers between yours again like it’s something that happens all the time.

“Sounds like a plan. We have to leave now so we aren’t late, sweetheart.” Cale ties the pet name out while guiding you towards the door and as your heart is racing, you can’t stop smiling knowing that today is going to be amazing with this incredible man by your side even if he’s only your fake boyfriend for the day.

And you aren’t wrong. The ceremony goes by without any hiccups. Cale keeps his hand in yours the whole time and presses the softest kisses to the side of your head throughout. You introduced Cale to a bunch of your friends as your boyfriend which only earned you more sweet smiles and gentle touches from the boy at your side. It felt like living in a blissful bubble where nothing could disrupt your fantasy even though you knew deep down this was all still pretend. There was no way Cale had real feelings for you.

The real test though is the reception. You can’t avoid Ryan forever and you have a feeling he’s going to make a point to come over and talk, but more importantly, ask about your date. Before the nerves can take over though, Cale puts all your worries away. As you both stand side by side in front of the seating chart in search of your names, he kisses your cheek and pulls you in closer to his side.

“How are you holding up?”

“Pretty good. There’s this awesome guy who is making the whole night a lot more fun than I thought it could’ve been.” You giggle, watching Cale’s cheeks brighten with the familiar pink color of blush.

“Really? Because I can’t get enough of the girl I’m here with either. Her smile is making it hard to breathe. And I’m glad she invited me along.” Cale responds with a smile on his lips and blue eyes full of nothing but adoration. His words pierce your heart in the most unexpected way because you know he means them. None of what he says is pretend to fit the show you’re both putting on.

But what could that possibly mean?

You don’t get a lot of time to think about it because Cale spots your names together under Table 8 and gives your hand a tiny squeeze before guiding you through the decorated ballroom. You take in all the beautiful sights and settle in next to Cale as you greet the other guests seated at your table. One of your college best friends is in the chair on your right which brings you even more comfort.

“Y/N!” She exclaims, giving you a hug while sporting a huge grin. “Last time we talked you didn’t mention that the handsome, but adorable professional hockey player who you always claimed to be your best friend is your boyfriend now!”

“Oh,” You chuckle, glancing at Cale who is in a conversation with one of the guests who are also sitting at your table. “We didn’t want to tell everyone just yet. But yeah, we’re together now and he’s the best.”

“I don’t know why you both waited all that time. It was obvious you two had feelings for each other the first time you met! I remember how you bursted into the campus coffeehouse with the happiest look on your face and I knew you met someone incredible.”

“It wasn’t that obvious to us for a while, I guess. But we’re making up for the lost time now.” You say softly, turning to look back at Cale as a million thoughts run through your head.

Since you met Cale, you’ve had feelings for him and for years, you never said anything because you couldn’t risk losing the best friendship you’ve ever had. But with your friend’s words echoing in your mind, you realize there is no time to waste. He didn’t even object when you asked him to be your fake boyfriend for the wedding. He has been noticeably more sweet and attentive the whole weekend and you’ve even noticed things he’s said or done that seem to be hinting at the fact he might want to be more than friends with you.

Ohmygod.

You’re in love with Cale and he most likely has feelings for you too.

Suddenly, nothing else matters except confessing the very thing you’ve tried to hide from him for years, but when you turn to ask Cale for a moment outside, the lights dim and the DJ’s voice booms through the speakers around the room.

“Everyone, please welcome the bride and groom!” Everyone stands and claps as the newlyweds enter the ballroom hand in hand with beaming smiles on their faces. The first dance song is introduced and even though you watch the couple dance together, you’re more focused on the boy next to you.

Cale’s arm is wrapped around you as a silent reminder he’s there because he probably thinks seeing your ex-boyfriend dance with his now wife at his wedding isn’t the greatest reminder that you’re single and here with a “fake” date. But you don’t even care about that right now. His touch grounds you and it’s what makes your mind up about telling Cale about how you feel.

Applause erupts again as the song finishes and almost drowns out the DJ’s next words. “The newlyweds would like to invite all couples to join them on the dance floor for this next dance.”

The familiar beginning notes of Taylor Swift’s “Lover” fill the air which makes you let out a little gasp in surprise. You love this song and Cale knows it. He can’t let this opportunity slip away from him, especially not with the plans he has.

“May I have this dance?” Cale asks softly, sporting an adorable smile while holding his hand out for you. A giggle slips past your lips as you nod and put your hand in his. He leads you out to an open spot on the crowded dance floor before pulling you into him. You wrap your arms around his neck as his hands settle on your hips, eliminating any space between your body and Cale’s.

For a moment, neither of you say anything. The music plays and you sing along under your breath all while never pulling your eyes away from his. How could he be so oblivious to the fact that he’s in love with you? All this time it could’ve been real, but it took a fake relationship for him to realize he can’t wait any longer to tell you how he feels even if it’s terrifying.

Little do either of you know, the same thought is going through both of your minds at the same exact time.

This is it.

“Y/N,” Cale starts when you say “Cale,” at the same time. He chuckles, trying to hide his nerves, and dips his head down before looking at you again as you both keep dancing. “You go first.”

“Okay,” You whisper, fumbling with Cale’s collar and keeping your gaze locked with his. It feels as if the rest of the ballroom falls away. There aren’t any other dancing couples or bright lights shining down. It’s just you and Cale and your favorite Taylor Swift song playing in the background. “I know this may seem like a surprise and if you don’t feel the same way, that’s okay. This is just something I can’t hide anymore.”

Cale’s breath is knocked out of his lungs at just those few sentences. Is this really happening? Is he about to get his girl after all this time?

“I love you, Cale. I love you with my whole entire heart and I’ve known since the day we met in class, but didn’t want to ruin the best friendship I’ve ever had. I realized though that it’s not your friendship that makes my life infinitely better, it’s you. And I know you came to this wedding as my fake boyfriend because I was nervous about seeing my stupid ex, which was beyond kind of you to do, but I want to leave here with you as my real boyfriend. I want to love you like I’ve dreamed of for years now.”

Time stops. Or at least Cale swears it does. He almost thinks this is all a dream except he knows it isn’t because of the tender look on your face. Nothing but love and admiration is on display across your beautiful features and he knows you’re preparing yourself for a potential reaction which is the farthest thing from the truth.

“I love you too, Y/N. Always have. Everyone around me has seen how insanely in love I am, but I couldn’t risk losing you either. You’re the most amazing person I know and it would make my heart so happy to be with you. I think we’ve proved this weekend that we can definitely make a real relationship work.” Cale replies honestly, his voice shaky. You laugh softly, your eyes filling up with tears for a moment.

This is real. He loves you too.

As you’re convincing yourself this is all real life, the bridge of the song begins and a beaming smile blossoms across Cale’s lips. He looks beautiful under the shimmery lights of the dance floor and he’s excluding pure happiness. His cheeks are rosy, blue eyes bright and you’ve never been so in love.

“Can I kiss you now?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Cale leans forward to close the small gap between the two of you with a gentle, but passionate kiss that says everything he’s been holding back for years. You melt into him, letting the overwhelming sensation of love wash over you. And as Cale pulls you impossibly closer to deepen the kiss, your heart feels as if it might explode.

This is all you’ve wanted for so long.

When you both slowly pull away, leaning your forehead against his, the rest of the crowd dissipates as the fast paced music picks up to get the party started. There’s nothing to do but bask in the moment and commit every detail to memory. Cale hasn’t stopped beaming yet and you don’t think you’ve ever been this happy before.

“I know everyone here already thinks we’re a couple, but just wait until the guys find out. I think they’ve been waiting for this just as long as I have been.”

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” You chuckle, cheeks going pink from blush at the thought of Cale’s teammates hearing the news the two of you are now together. Cale is sure that he’s never seen anyone cuter in his whole entire life and now he gets to call you his.

But right now, he isn’t thinking about talking to Ryan like you’ve been dreading all day or returning home for the rest of the offseason. Cale is just focused on having the best time dancing the night away with the love of his life because he finally has you. And he won’t be letting you go anytime soon.

tagging some friends/mutuals who might be interested!

@tonyspep @starshine-hockey-girl @kailyn-writes @happer08 @rosesvioletshardy @sorryjustafangirl @laurenairay @miracleonice87 @hockeyunits @stroopwaffle8 @musiclove-12 @eightmakar @ilyasorokinn @barzysreputation @breezymichelle99 @comphyjost @comphy-and-cozy @jostystyles @ya-pucking-nerd @fallen-froots @beauvibaby @barzysunflower @boqvistsbabe @wyattjohnston @tpwkstiles @hockeylvr59 @2manytabsopen @lam-ila @nateslehky

#cale makar #cale makar fic #cale makar fics #cale makar imagines #cale makar imagine #summer fic exchange 2k23 #nhl fic #nhl imgaine #cale makar x reader #cale makar fluff #colorado avalanche

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vivalas-vega · 1 year

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new perspectives / jake ‘hangman’ seresin x reader / part five

I wanted to get this one out quickly for y’all!! here is the much needed relief we all needed after that last chapter. as always, lmk what you think and if you want to be added to the taglist!

new perspectives / jake ‘hangman’ seresin x reader / part five

add yourself to my taglist

prologue - one - two - three - four

word count: 4.3k

warnings: language, angst, basically another grey’s anatomy ep so... medical inaccuracies and drama !!!

Sitting in one of the imaging rooms in your own hospital, a room you’d previously spent countless hours in and would go on to spend countless more, brought you a small bit of peace. You were surrounded by familiar faces and doctors you trusted and respected, and that made a world of a difference in your confidence for Mary’s outcome. Despite how close you were to the case no one was excluding you from conversations or keeping you out of the loop on anything, you were given just as much of a voice as Dr. Lewis in dictating her care as you looked over several of her scans and brainstormed a game plan. If this was truly your case you would have kicked your own ass to the curb several hours ago but the patience and grace everyone was extending you didn’t go unnoticed.

“What if you try coming in through here?” you asked, and Dr. Lewis pondered your suggestion for a moment, trying to visualize before shaking his head.

“If I insert the probe here,” he said, illustrating the path with his fingers, “I’m going to disrupt something here,” he circled around Broca’s Area. “Do that and she’ll lose the ability to speak, she’s a teacher right?”

“Third grade, and she’s damn good at it,” you sighed.

“Then we aren’t taking any risks, I think our best course here is to go in this way,” he said, outlining a new pathway and you nodded.

“It’s still tricky but I think that’s going to be the best approach,” you agreed.

“Why did you end up leaving neuro? You’ve clearly got a knack for it,” he asked suddenly, looking you over curiously.

“I loved neuro, did Dr. Adams tell you he used to call us the Brain Buddies?” you asked and he shook his head laughing. “He’d go around the hospital saying it like we were some superhero duo… I used to think there was no high like neurosurgery, but then one day there was this massive train crash. Most people were too unstable to move so we went to them. When we got there most had already died and the ones who hadn’t were one slight breeze away from following suit. There was this girl, about my age, who was bleeding out faster than I could control. Nothing was working and I began to panic… trauma is quick and dirty, there’s no time to gameplan or even think, you just have to figure it out as you go and be resourceful, so I used dirt,” you chuckled though it really wasn’t funny. “I just scooped a handful and packed the wound and it worked… we had to load her up on so many antibiotics she got C. Diff and the poor thing needed a fecal transplant but she made a full recovery,” you said with a smile. “That was a high unlike anything else, and I just never looked back. Trauma is where all the fun is.”

“You sound exactly like one of my buddies who’s a doctor with the Army… you ever considered that path?”

“Briefly but… Jake, Mary’s son, is in the Navy. Every deployment crushes both of our parents and they worry, I couldn’t do that to them… I think they’d all lose their minds if they lost both of their kids to that life,” you said and he nodded.

“Well, let’s go give her some good news, let her know what the plan is.” Mary was surprisingly calm throughout the whole thing, she didn’t even blink when Dr. Lewis briefed her on all the risks (stroke, paralysis, loss of speech, death), all she had said was well, if I can’t speak there’s always sign language and death is better than a painful year of chemo. Really she didn’t care about any of it, she asked if you agreed with his approach and she’d said that was all she needed to know when you’d answered yes. She’d truly put all of her trust in you, she let go of the whole thing and just accepted that because you said it would be okay that it would… and that terrifies you beyond belief. You were a confident doctor, always had been, but right now with her looking at you with such pride and peace you felt sick, knowing that no matter how good a patient’s outcome looks going into surgery that can always change at the drop of a hat.

“That’s the attitude, Mary, keep that up… patients who go in with a positive outlook are much more likely to come out the other side,” Dr. Lewis said. You oversaw the interns in charge of her pre-op care and she had watched through amused eyes as you ordered them around and even called you a hardass… much like Jake had done when he’d visited you in Boston.

“It seems mean now but Dr. Stevens will tell you his skills have improved since I came around to knock some sense into him. If you put the fear of god in them they’re much more malleable,” you joked.

“It must be working because they are terrified to disappoint you,” Mary said and you didn’t miss how proud she sounded.

“Jupiter is very tough, tougher than any of the attendings but I’ve learned a lot from her,” Dr. Stevens confirmed and you narrowed your eyes at him. “And she makes a mean chocolate chip cookie, I heard that was your recipe.”

“Stop kissing my ass and bring me her updated labs,” you said and he nodded quickly as we went to leave the room, “and just because I’m off duty that doesn’t mean I’m not doctor to you!” you called after him and Mary just laughed.

“I like seeing this side of you,” she said, looking up at you appreciatively and you gave her a warm smile. “If I’m being honest I thought wanting to be a surgeon at twelve years old was just a crazy phase… thought you maybe saw a cool doctor in a movie or something but looking at you now… I couldn’t imagine you doing anything else,” she said.

“I wouldn’t be here without you,” you said, giving her hand a squeeze and you noticed Jake enter the room without saying a word.

“You’ll be in the surgery?” she asked and you nodded.

“I’m not allowed to be involved in the actual operation… it’s too much of a conflict of interest, but Dr. Lewis has graciously agreed to let me be in the room with you.”

“That makes me feel better… knowing you’ll be there,” she said and you gave her another smile before you excused yourself to step into the hallway when Dr. Stevens flagged you down and you looked over her labs in relief.

“What do these tell you?” you asked, handing the paper back to him and he looked at you curiously for a moment, “I taught you better than this, Dr. Stevens, I know you can read labs,” you said.

“I just… I didn’t expect you to be teaching right now,” he said and you watched as he looked over the paper and processed the information. “These all look good, she’s in optimal shape to be heading into surgery,” he said and you nodded.

“Exactly, let Dr. Lewis know and page me when you’re taking her up.”

“Didn’t expect you to be teaching right now either,” you heard Jake say and you turned around to face him with a sigh.

“Your mom’s case is an incredible teaching example and Dr. Stevens shows promise within neuro. Your mom understands that, she’s thrilled he’s getting to learn from her and she wants me to take the opportunity to teach when I can, it’s my job.” you said.

“But you’re not working right now,” he said and you gave a soft nod.

“You’re right, I’m not… I’m just doing everything I can to make sure she receives the best standard of care and teaching when I have the opportunity to ensures that, not just for her but for everyone else’s mom that comes in after her.” He just nodded and you could tell that he was annoyed with you. “Jake, just talk to me.”

“We’ve already gone through the procedure, I don’t need to talk about it anymore,” he replied and you furrowed your brows.

“You know that’s not what I mean.”

“I need you, J. I need you and you’re not here,” he said in a hushed whisper, trying to avoid the nosy ears of your interns at the desk just a few feet away.

“I’m right here,” you said but he just shook his head.

“You’re not. You’re making calls and teaching interns, or holed away in an imaging room and you’re talking to me like I’m just some patient’s family member. There’s enough doctors around here, I just needed you… I needed you to be my Jupiter through this and you were just another doctor,” he said with a disappointed look before stepping back into his mother’s room and any tension that had eased after setting the plan in place with Dr. Lewis was back in full force. Your heart ached and you wanted to go after him but you knew this wasn’t the moment… he was angry and scared and he didn’t understand where you were coming from and that was all okay. There was no way to rationalize with his mother heading into brain surgery in less than an hour and you chose to believe that when the dust settled and she came out the other side things would level out but as selfish as it was… you needed a moment. A moment to clear your head and think so you wandered down to the emergency department, you let your eyes rake over the space as you took stock of how things were holding up in your absence and while you stood in front of the patient board you jumped when the Head of Trauma, Dr. Fowles approached you.

“What are you doing down here?” he asked, looking at you apologeticly as you placed a hand over your heart.

“Needed a breather,” you said and he laughed.

“So you came to the pit for a little relaxation?” You nodded with a sheepish smile. “Want something to take your mind off it?”

“Please, I’ll take anything,” you said and he led you over to Bay Three and opened the curtain to reveal a beautiful laceration just begging for you to suture it. You introduced yourself as you gloved up and made small talk with her as you worked, taking your time to ensure she had as little scarring as possible.

“One minute you’re making lunch for your boyfriend, who is incredibly ungrateful by the way, and the next you’re in the ER because you zoned out wondering what your old college boyfriend was up to and sliced right through the avocado and into your hand,” she sighed and you chuckled.

“Never go down the college boyfriend rabbit hole, it’s never worth it,” you said. You finally felt like yourself, sure you’d been acting like a doctor nonstop for the past three days but it was all so deeply personal. This was cut and dry, you’d patch her up and send her on her way and likely never see her again. This was medicine without baggage and it felt so good. You hoped Jake was still somewhere on the other side of the hospital, if he saw you right now with that sparkle back in your eye hunched over this patient's open palm it would only make matters worse.

“You got lucky, I’m looking at the tendon here but you didn’t cut through… could be a sign… or a wake up call,” you suggested and she nodded.

“A sign to dump his sorry ass and find someone who will actually drive me to the ER instead of making me get blood all over my brand new car? Yeah, I’m one step ahead of you,” she said and you let out a soft laugh.

“Well, you’re all good. Take the antibiotics, make sure you’re eating things with lots of good bacteria and fully finish the course even if it doesn’t feel like it’s doing anything… and please, don’t let him reel you back in the way they’re always so good at,” you said with a smile as you pulled your gloves off and went to the desk to update her chart.

“You’re a junkie,” Dr. Fowles said and you rolled your eyes at him.

“Takes one to know one,” you said, handing him the chart as your pager beeped and he wished you luck as you ran towards the elevator. You texted Jake to let him know you’d come out with an update once you had one and were on your way to meet them in the OR. Standing in the scrub room and overlooking them prepping Mary through the window you took a deep breath, you knew things would move quickly the second you got her here but it truly felt like one minute you were at the Hard Deck laughing with your friends and the next you’re here… about to step into surgery on one of the most important people in your life.

“I know you can’t tell through my mask, but I’m smiling right now,” you said as you approached her.

“I know, honey,” she replied and the anesthesiologist looked at you to let you know they were ready when you were. “Promise me something,” she said and you just shook your head.

“I’m not making you any promises, Mary, you’re not on your deathbed.”

“Promise me that when I’m out of the woods you are going to put me and John and your parents out of our misery and finally kiss that son of mine,” she said and you let out a shocked laugh.

“You are about to go under for brain surgery and that’s what you’re worried about right now?” you teased.

“You two drive me nuts! Just give me a wedding already.” she said and you shook your head.

“I’ll see what I can do… I’ll see you after, okay?” you said, nodding to the anesthesiologist. “Countdown from ten for me.”

“Ten… nine… give me a wedding… eight… seven-” she slurred as she fell under and you just chuckled to yourself as Dr. Lewis entered the room.

“Alright, Jupiter… I have been patient with you all day as you made me run through my surgical plan a dozen times and all but demanded to be in here, and I was happy to oblige because I like you, however there will not be a peep out of you from here on out, are we understood?” he asked and you nodded.

“Yes, sir. I understand.”

“Good, because I will throw you out so please don’t make me have to.” You watched as he began, your eyes intently flitting between his hands and the monitor that was displaying an aerial view of the surgical field and you felt nausea begin to creep in. You listened as Dr. Fowles narrated everything he was doing to Dr. Stevens, who you wanted to throw a bedpan at when they got eyes on the tumor… really you couldn’t be mad, his reaction was warranted and it was cool, but it would be a hell of a lot cooler if that tumor wasn’t in Jake’s mom’s head. You listened as Dr. Fowles changed his surgical approach, this was always a possibility. The scans give you a lot of information but any plans are just loose ideas until you actually get in there and see what’s going on, and you bit your tongue as you let him make his best judgment call on how to proceed. You were now two hours into the surgery but it felt like no time had passed at all.

“Alright, I think we’re ready to pull this sucker out, Dr. Stevens would you like to man the cautery?” Dr. Fowles asked and your heart stuttered in your chest.

“Absolutely not,” you said before your mind could catch up and tell you to keep your mouth shut.

“Are we forgetting you’re not to speak in this OR?”

“With all due respect sir, as promising as Dr. Stevens is, one wrong move with that cautery and all of this will have been for nothing.” you said and you watched as his hands stilled on the monitor.

“It seems Jupiter doesn’t want you to learn today,” Dr. Fowles said and Dr. Stevens looked between the two of you, clearly stuck between a rock and a hard place.

“If it’s alright with you sir, I’ll just observe. She’s right, I’ve never cauterized before and I still have a lot I want to learn from her… I’d rather not jeopardize that by sending her best friend's mom to the vegetable patch.” he said and you nodded in satisfaction. You would personally see to it that Dr. Stevens scrubbed in with you on every one of your surgeries for the foreseeable future to make up for the learning opportunity you’d just robbed him of. Things seemed to be progressing smoothly until the monitors started beeping frantically and you watched as her BP suddenly tanked and you felt your stomach drop as Dr. Fowles started barking out orders that weren’t quite registering in your ears.

“No… no, no no,” you muttered, a tidal wave of panic crashing over you as you ran out into the hallway and braced yourself on a wall, trying desperately to get your breathing under control. You quickly hunched over a trash can and let the nausea take over, vomiting onto the pile of discarded gloves and trauma gowns as the door opened to reveal a scrub nurse.

“Dr. Fowles is asking you to come back in,” she said and you shook your head, fighting the tears that were threatening to fall. “Come on, just come see,” she said and you placed your mask back over your face as you tentatively followed.

“You missed the good part, Jupiter… the tumor is out.”

“Her vitals?” you asked, taking a small step closer as you looked at the monitors but you didn’t trust your eyes.

“She’s a fighter,” he answered and you sighed in relief. “I’m about to pack with gelfoam but it appears we are out of the woods. Would you like to go update them as I close?” he asked but you were already halfway out the door, ripping off your mask and sprinting down the hallways until you burst into the waiting area. Jake and John jumped up, looking at you expectantly and as they took in your tear streaked face and rapid breathing you watched as their faces fell.

“No! No no no,” you said, taking in a sharp breath. “It’s good, it all went good, they’re closing now, she’ll be in recovery within the half hour,” you said and they both exhaled in relief.

“Oh thank god,” John whispered, pulling you in for a bone crushing hug. “Thank you,” he pulled away to place a kiss on your forehead. “There will never be enough thank you’s for this,” he said as he wiped his own tears. You looked over to Jake who had sunk into one of the chairs with his head hung in his hands and you crouched on the floor in front of him and gently placed a hand on his knee.

“Jake? She’s going to be okay,” you said and he lifted his head to look at you with glassy eyes, “it went as well as we could have hoped. We won’t be certain until she wakes up but I have a very good feeling.”

“J…” he started, but was cut off by his own tears and you pushed him back in his seat to perch on his legs and pull him into your chest.

“I know…” you soothed, rubbing a hand up and down his back. He wrapped his arms around your waist and you just sat there as you held him, whispering reassurances into his ear. You hooked a finger on his chin, softly tilting his head to look up at you before resting your palms on his cheeks. “I’m going to call my parents, let them know… and Rooster too, everyone’s been really worried,” you said and he nodded. You placed a kiss on his forehead as you slid off his lap and you stepped away and pulled out your phone. Your mother had cried, sobbed really, and your dad told you to pass along their well wishes for recovery when he took over the call, you could hear the relief in his voice as he told you how proud he was of you.

“Please tell me she’s okay,” Rooster said as he answered and you let out a breathy laugh.

“She’s good… we’re in the wait and see portion, but I think we’re in the clear. Can you talk with Mav? She’ll be out of here in a few days but this whole thing has him pretty rattled. I know I don’t have the authority but I’m not clearing him for work just yet,” you said and Rooster chuckled.

“Doctor’s orders,” he said and you let out a soft laugh as well. “Mav said to take all the time he needs, there’s no rush to get back.” You thanked him as you hung up, telling him to pass it along to the rest of the Dagger’s as well for how supportive they’ve been throughout. Your pager went off as you approached the two of them and you gave them a reassuring look.

“She’s in post op now, I’m confident everything is fine but I’m going to head up and just be sure, okay?” you said and they nodded as you made your way to the elevator and you all but ran into the room, eyes immediately scanning the brain activity monitor.

“How’s it looking?” you asked a bit frantically.

“Looking good,” Dr. Fowles answered as you grabbed her chart from him to look it over. “You know as well as I do we won’t know for sure until she wakes up but I don’t think we should expect any deficits.” You dropped the chart into its place at the end of her bed and threw your arms around him.

“I know this is unprofessional but just go with it,” you said as you started crying again and he chuckled as he reciprocated and rubbed along your back. “I owe you big time, thank you for everything… I am available for any and every pro-bono surgery you need me for from here on out,” you said.

“I think I’ll hold onto my favor for a little while,” he teased as you pulled away and you laughed as you wiped your cheeks and asked an orderly to grab Jake and John.

“Well, whatever it is it better be big, I owe you a lifetime's worth of thank you’s.” He slipped out of the room and let you know he would check back later and you felt the dark cloud that had been hovering over you the past few days begin to dissipate and with it brought the crushing weight of every feeling you’d been fighting off. You let out a broken sob and immediately turned to leave the room, not noticing Jake walking down the hallway as you hurried the opposite direction and shut yourself into an on-call room. He poked his head into his mom’s room, making sure everything was okay before chasing after you and he found you sitting on the floor with your back against a nightstand and your head between your knees as you tried to regulate your breathing. He was silent as he sat beside you and you lifted your head slightly.

“You don’t need to be here,” you choked out, “I know you’re mad at me, and it’s… I’m okay, really, go sit with your mom.” He didn’t respond, instead he reached around you to grip underneath your arms and pulled you to sit between his legs where he wrapped himself around you and it was the final straw to push you over the edge. You leaned back against him as he held you tight and fell apart in his arms… you’d tried to say something but nothing would come out around your cries, and Jake just let you get it all out.

“I’m not mad at you,” he finally said when your breathing started to even out. “I was but… I was wrong. I didn’t-” he stopped himself for a moment, taking a deep breath as he fought his own tears. “Not once did I stop and consider what this was like for you, I was selfish. You.. I mean, god Jupiter,” he let out a humorless laugh. “You swept in and had this handled in less than three days. I was so wrapped up in what you weren’t doing that I didn’t think about what you were doing, and that was everything… you held it together for all of us, you made sure she would be okay. I’m so sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry,” you sniffled.

“Yes, I do. I thought you weren’t there for me, but you were. You always are, even if I don’t see it at first. I’m so sorry that I made this harder on you,” he said, giving you another squeeze and you melted against him. “I was mad at you for who you are, and that’s… I say how proud I am of the doctor you’ve become and in the moment that you were doing everything you could to help my mom I was an absolute asshole.”

“You weren’t an asshole… I treated you like a patient’s family, and you reacted the way family does.”

“That doesn’t make it okay,” he muttered, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you said softly. “Do you want to go check on your mom?” you asked and he shook his head.

“No. I want to just sit here with you for a little while if that’s okay,” he replied and you nodded, letting your head fall against his arm.

“Yeah, that’s okay.”

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thedreamlessnights · 6 months

Text

Someone to shed some light - pt. 6

Astarion x gn!reader

{series masterlist}

Synopsis: You learn your place in Calthir and what that means for your future. An unexpected conversation is overheard, and it changes everything.

Warnings: Threats of suicide/self-harm, very brief suicidal ideation, mentions of blood and death.

Word Count: 5.7k

A/N: Thank you all so much for reading, you have no idea how much I appreciate you! Your comments on each chapter are so inspiring and I've been having so much fun working on this fic. There sadly isn't as much Astarion interaction in this chapter, but there'll be plenty of that to come. I hope you enjoy! And thank you once again to @aerynwrites for brainstorming over this chapter with me and making the lovely header image!

It’s the harsh light of the morning sun that pulls you from a lovely dream, scalding into the sensitive skin of your eyelids and searing at your skin. Even through the tent, it’s unbearable. Or, perhaps, it’s the memories that accompany it that you can’t stand.

Within seconds, the dream is gone - a sweet, fleeting picture lost to a bitter reality - and you’re left laying on your side, aching in every part of yourself. Mind, body, and soul.

All your anger at Cal has seeped out of you and left something else entirely: numbness. Gods, you feel absolutely nothing. Or - no, that’s not quite right. You feel hollowed out. It’s as though every muscle of yours has been filled with lead. You can’t find it in yourself to get up.

Astarion isn’t at your side, but when you force yourself to shift a little, you see he’s still in the tent - very clearly eavesdropping on a conversation taking place outside. His head is tilted toward the sound and his shoulders are tensed: ready to leap out of the way should he hear someone coming. He’s nimble enough, surely.

For a moment, you stare at him, the half-view of his form that you’re able to see from your bedroll. Pinched brows, a deep frown, dark eyelashes that meet his cheek when he looks down, lost in whatever he’s listening to.

What is he thinking? What’s caught his interest so keenly? And, gods, there’s something softened about his features that you’ve never really seen. It takes you a moment to connect why.

This is Astarion as he really is. No show to put on. No royal mask, no seductive charm. Just himself, almost alone in this tent, sitting under the sun and listening to something he shouldn’t. The only thing comparable to this is when you’d caught him sunbathing at the palace, lost in the feeling of the warmth of his skin.

Even after last night, it’s clear he still hasn’t let his guard down around you. Given everything that’s happened, it’s not difficult to guess why. With time, perhaps. But, for now, you need to stop staring at him.

Sit up, you instruct yourself. You need to sit up.

Your body doesn’t budge at first, but you’ll be damned if one measly betrayal is going to rob you of your motivation. You force yourself up, wincing at the stiffness of your joints, shaking away the fog that’s overtaken your head.

Upright as you are, the anger slowly returns. You like it. You thrive on it. It’s something to feed off of, something to fuel you. The numbness hadn’t worked like that. It had been so - empty. You’ll take anger any day.

Astarion still hasn’t moved.

“Hearing anything interesting?” you ask softly, and though he doesn’t turn to look at you, his head tilts ever so slightly in your direction, letting you know he’d heard you.

“That Aris has just arrived,” he says. “I’m sure it won’t be long before they all darken our door.”

“Lovely.” You fold your arms around your knees, stomach suddenly churning. “Freedom was nice while it lasted, I suppose.”

“It was,” he agrees. “A shame. Just when I was almost enjoying it, too.”

Your smile falls weak on your lips, but he can’t see it. You know you should eat, but you doubt that you’d be able to stomach anything. Instead, you pull out one of the bottles of water in your pack and take a tentative sip, praying that it won’t disturb your stomach.

After a moment, Astarion finally moves to get dressed for the day, and you catch a brief flash of the scar on his neck before it’s covered up. Two puncture wounds. The mark of the bite that turned him, marred into his flesh. It doesn’t pass your notice that he chooses a high-collared shirt.

You wonder if he knows that you’ll die before exposing him to these people.

Maybe, if Cal hadn’t betrayed you, Calthir would feel like an extension of you. Your kingdom. Your people. Instead, it’s just another prison. These soldiers mulling the camp are strangers, and you have no loyalty to them. You certainly won’t be what they’d expected of you.

What the hells did they do to you, Cal had asked. Are you the one who is different, or is he? You don’t feel different. Yes, you care about Astarion now. Yes, you’re on the run - or, you had been. But had that shifted you so much? Are you so changed?

It occurs to you that Cal may not have ever known you at all.

You scramble into a change of clothes before the leader can arrive, and when you hear the approach of footsteps, your throat tightens. The tent is pulled open without warning, and the sun that streams in burns your eyes. You hold your arm to your face, attempting to block some of it out, but you still can barely see the figures standing before you.

“Come on,” a voice says. “Out.”

You make your way to your feet, keeping your shoulders squared and your back straight. They won’t break you. Your fists are gearing for a fight. Your teeth are ready to draw blood.

Astarion follows after you without so much as a word, and the two of you find yourself in front of a group of armored soldiers. Aris is clear from the moment you see her: her composure says enough, and so does the anxious way her men stand behind her. A high elf. Long, dark hair, braided into a neat updo. Piercing green eyes.

“My, my,” she says. “It’s not every day that the ruler of Calthir walks straight into my camp.”

Is that what Cal had told her? He’s nowhere to be seen.

Her glance skates next to you, and when it lands on Astarion, she frowns. “And who is this?”

She really doesn’t know?

“This is Lirien,” you answer quickly, subtly shifting your right hand over your left to hide your wedding ring. “He helped me escape.”

Aris quirks a brow, cocking her head and folding her arms across her chest. “How interesting,” she says. “You see, I got a report last night that one of Queen Erelin’s carriages was attacked not two days ago. The two occupants inside are now missing, but presumably still alive. Occupants who happen to match your description.” She pauses, keeping her eyes locked on you. “One of whom was her son.”

The blood slowly drains from your face, but you hold her gaze. “That’s strange,” you reply, pasting on a smile. “I’d love to meet these doppelgängers.”

Behind you, Astarion lets out a loud sigh.

You turn to look at him, staring in sheer disbelief. “Really? You could try to play along!”

“Er - yes,” Astarion says flatly. “I’m Lirien.”

Aris shakes her head, clearly unimpressed. “Had enough?” she asks, framing her hands on her hips. “You brought an Ancunín with you. The heir to our enemy kingdom. I… I’m appalled. I really am. I don’t know whether to call you a fool or thank you for delivering him to us. In any case…” She turns toward Astarion, eyes scanning over him, and something like admiration forms in her gaze. “My deepest apologies, pretty boy. Your death is a necessary sacrifice for Calthir. ”

She makes a gesture toward her guards, crooking two of her fingers, but you act before they can. Your hand flashes out to the side - or more precisely, toward the dagger you know is in Astarion’s belt. It’s removed and pressed to your neck in an instant, the chill of the blade kissing the delicate skin of your throat.

Aris jumps, holding out her hand. “Wait-!”

“What in the hells?” Astarion exclaims, staring at you as though you’re crazy. And, well, maybe you are. But you’ve played your fair share of card games. This isn’t much different.

“Let’s be honest with each other, shall we?” you ask, facing Aris. “I admit it: this is Astarion Ancunín. But you’re not going to lay a hand on him, or I’ll cut my throat here and now, and you’ll be without your precious ruler.”

Aris stares at you, raising a brow. She’s disturbingly calm. “You’re bluffing.”

“Am I?” you ask, pressing the blade further in. It stings, but doesn’t quite pierce the skin. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I don’t exactly have much to live for. If I stay, I’m either a pawn for you, or a pawn for Erelin. Astarion is the only thing I have going for me. Leave him alive, let him stay with me, and I’ll go with you. Do so much as lay a finger on him, and I’ll become very intimate with this blade very quickly.”

“Go ahead, then,” Aris urges, her voice steely. “We don’t need you.”

“Oh, really?” you ask. “So that’s why you’ve spent so long looking for me, wasting - what was it - hundreds of men?”

Her jaw clenches almost imperceptibly. “And who the hells told you that?” she bites out.

“Cal,” you answer. “He raised me, remember? He rubs his neck when he lies. I know he was telling the truth.”

“I can’t do what you’re asking,” Aris tells you, her tone almost pleading. “I can’t let him live.”

“In that case,” you sigh, pressing even deeper. The stinging sensation increases. A drop or two of warm blood streams down your neck, and fear finally enters her eyes. At your side, Astarion goes tense.

“Fine!” Aris says. “Bloody hells. Fine! Just put the fucking blade down!”

You keep it where it is. “Give me your word.”

“What?”

“Give me your word that he’ll go unharmed. Mentally, emotionally, physically.”

“Hells, I’ll put it in fucking writing!” she exclaims. “Just put the knife down, will you?”

You don’t remotely trust her, but you don’t have much other choice. You gently remove the dagger from your neck, reaching over to slide it back into Astarion’s sheath. He just scowls at you, looking shaken. His eyes linger on the blood on your neck for a moment, then snap back to face.

In response to his expression, you flash a smile at him. You’ve just saved his life, after all. He could at least be a little grateful.

“Can we agree that you’ll never do that again?” he hisses, leaning in close so his voice spills into your ear. He pulls a loose rag out from his shirt pocket, hastily wiping the blood away from your skin. His hands are shaking.

“Astarion,” you say softly, teasingly. “Was that concern I heard in your voice?”

He scoffs. “Just - warn me next time, will you?”

“If there is a next time,” you start, “I promise I’ll warn you in advance.”

Aris is watching you with no small amount of distaste. “If you’ll come with me,” she says stiffly, “I’ll lay down the terms of this… agreement.”

You follow after her, keeping Astarion close to you. He wraps an arm around your waist, and you wonder if it’s part of the little display the two of you are setting up. You know how this must look to them: that you’d fallen for Astarion, and brought him to this camp like a fool. That Astarion is a spy for Erelin.

And - well, one part of that thought is true. You’ve fallen for Astarion. His touch, though cold, seems to scald you even through your clothes. You’re no fool, though. You certainly hadn’t come here of your own accord, waltzing into camp. And, if Astarion is a spy, he’s doing a terrible job of it. He’d wanted to leave the moment the two of you laid eyes on this place.

You follow Aris into a tent that’s clearly used for planning. There’s a large, sprawling map of Faerûn spread over a table. Lanceboard pieces are being used to showcase all of Erelin’s forces, as well as some Calthirian outposts. There’s more of Calthir than you’d thought - some along the mountain pass, some along the borders of the city. The battle plans are scribbled hastily along the side, and it looks like there’s some disagreement about them, given how much of the text has been crossed out. It’s illegible, for the most part.

“Here,” Aris announces, scrawling down some words on the parchment in front of her. “I, Aris Alderfate, swear on my life that Astarion Anucnin will come to no harm: whether it be mentally, physically, or emotionally, by myself or anyone under my command. Satisfied?”

“How do I know that your soldiers won’t harm him?”

She clicks her tongue. “Disobeying orders is a death sentence. He’ll not suffer a scratch.”

You stare at her, trying to find any sense of deceit in her eyes, but there’s none. Her gaze is bright, and her face is open - inquisitive. “Alright,” you finally agree. Fear stirs in your stomach, thinking about how trapped you are. How cornered in, with only your life to barter. “What now?”

“Now,” she says, “your handsome prince leaves us. This is private business.”

You shake your head. “He stays.”

“You are asking me to trust the son of our enemy,” Aris hisses, placing her hands flat on the table set in front of her. “The only child of the woman who dethroned your parents. I cannot and will not trust him. I’ve spared his life, as you’ve asked, but he will not be a part of this. Do you understand?”

You can tell that she won’t budge, but it unsettles you to have Astarion out of sight. Out of sight, they can do anything to him. She may have signed that document, but you’re desperately outnumbered, and you don’t have a dagger in your hand as a bargaining chip anymore.

Seeing your face, Aris lets out a quick rush of air. “If any of this is going to work, you’ll need to trust me. This entire operation is built off of intelligence and trust.” She reaches forward, placing a hand on yours. “Trust me when I say that I have your best interests at heart. And, when this discussion is over, you’ll return to your tent and find Astarion just as he is now.”

You glance at him. He gives a light shrug, but you can see the tension etched into the crease of his brow, the squaring of his shoulders. After a long moment of internal debate, you nod.

Two guards step forward, lining themselves on either side of Astarion. “Come with us,” they instruct.

He’s led out of the tent, and a pit digs into your stomach.

“Relax,” Aris says. “I’ve given you my word. I’ll hand it to you - you’re stubborn. An idiot, maybe, but stubborn.”

You give her a half-hearted smile. “Is this how you address all your rulers?”

She straightens, letting out a sigh as she walks along the table, trailing her fingers over the map. “No,” she says. “But I don’t sugarcoat my words. Whatever you think he is to you, it’s not true. He’s trying to get you on his side. Cal was adamant you’d be too smart for that, but here we are.”

You lean forward, observing the sight in front of you. “Agree to disagree, I suppose.”

Frustration flashes over her face. “Well,” she says. “You’re a mascot, Highness. An image for the people, and that is all you’ll be. We have the forces. I have the plans. You have the royal blood. None will work without the other.”

“Alright,” you agree. “What, then?”

“We take the throne,” Aris says. “Erelin dies. This is non-negotiable. You take your rightful place as heir, and the kingdom of Calthir returns to her former glory.”

“And?” you ask. “Will I actually have a say in how I lead, or will I just be another pawn to you?”

Her expression tightens. “You’ll have a council that assists you in your decision-making,” she says, but it’s clear enough what she means. You’re nothing more than a face, a sack of precious blood. “Your marriage will be dissolved, and you’ll be settled with someone else.”

Your spine runs cold. “What?”

Her eyes pierce into you like a knife. “You’re married to the enemy’s son. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but that’s a problem. Having Astarion in any position of power is a problem. You can keep him around if you like, have your fun with him, but the marriage cannot stay.”

She really does think you’re an idiot, fooling around with a handsome prince. “And who would be replacing him?” you ask.

“Duke Ravengard has proposed his son,” Aris says. “Wyll is a good man. He’ll be kind to you.”

You flinch at the suggestion. “I know Wyll,” you answer. “He’s an old friend.”

“Then you know he’d treat you with the utmost respect.”

“I do. And I also know he’d hate to be a pawn in your game,” you snap back.

Aris sighs. “If he refuses, then we have other options. First, we need to take the kingdom. Your suitors are less of a priority.”

“Then tell me how you’re planning to do it!” you exclaim. “What am I here for?”

Gods, you’re tired of her, and it hasn’t even been five minutes. If it’s going to be a lifetime of her breathing down your neck, maybe you really should run that dagger through your throat.

“That’s easy,” she replies evenly. “For you, at least. We’ll write you speeches. You’ll rally the soldiers. For the most part, you’ll sit pretty.”

“Sit pretty?” you ask, unable to hide the disgust in your voice. “I’m your ruler, and you want me to sit pretty?”

“Yes,” she says, “I do. Like I said, you have the royal blood. You’re the symbol - important only because of your image, nothing else. I’ve worked all my life to get to where I am, and I won’t let anything compromise that. So you are going to live a life of luxury, be the face of our revolution, and be fucking grateful for it!”

She takes in a deep breath, collecting herself. “You can go,” she says. “We’ll retrieve you when you’re needed. The guards will lead you back to your tent.”

Just like they had with Astarion, they cage themselves around you. It’s suffocating. The cool breeze in the air does nothing to stop the feeling.

They lead you to the same tent the two of you had been in last night, and when you crawl through the flap, you find Astarion in one piece. Unharmed, just as she’d said. The guards all leave, and you know exactly why. Cal’s spell is still there. You can almost feel it, still hot on your skin.

You pull the flap shut, absurdly angry, planting yourself at Astarion’s side. You need to hit something. Or scream, maybe.

“That bad, darling?” he asks. “You look like you’re about to explode.”

“Will she find us here?”

He blinks in surprise. “What?”

“Erelin. You said she’d never stop looking for us. Will she come for us, if she finds out the two of us are in this place?”

“Yes,” Astarion answers. “She’ll stop at nothing.” He tilts his head. “Betraying your own people?” he asks softly, though admiration lights his eyes. “That’s low, darling, even for you.”

“I’m not betraying them,” you answer. “But if she is what you say, then she’s going to find us sooner or later, isn’t she?” You pick at the edge of your shirt, hesitating. “Who do you think will win? Be honest. Just between you and me - who will win?”

He inhales sharply. “My mother’s no fool,” he says. “She married you off for a reason. She knew that Calthir was a threat. But…” He shakes his head. “Even if all of their camps are as impressive as this one, I’d place my bets on her. These Calthirian ‘recruits’ are untrained. I doubt they’ve ever seen battle. Even if they do have more men, our experience would overrule the numbers.”

You’re silent for a moment, not knowing how to respond. Which is worse - being under Erelin’s thumb again, never given the opportunity for freedom? Being nothing more than an image, married off to Wyll?

Gods, something isn’t right. If they’re having you marry Wyll, then they’d never let you keep Astarion at your side, even if they dissolved the marriage. No - something here is rotten. Unfortunately, since you can’t do a thing about it, that knowledge is pointless.

“Then I suppose we’d better wait for her,” you finally say. “And see what happens.”

There’s not much else of a choice.

The tent falls silent as you think, that pit of anger rising and ebbing as your thoughts pull at you one by one. You need them to go away; you need some peace, for once.

“Did you know your father?” you suddenly ask. “I know he died when you were young, but… do you remember him?”

“No,” Astarion answers. “I… don’t remember much of my past. Before Cazador.” He leans back, propping an arm behind himself to support him. “And you? Your real parents, I mean.”

You shake your head. “They died just after I was born. They fell ill, apparently. Cal is all I’ve ever known.” A bitter smile twists itself on your lips. “I used to think… I didn’t need anything else. He loved me, cared for me. He was as much my father as the one dead in the ground, his blood running through my veins.”

Your voice hitches, and you swallow hard. “All a lie, though.”

Astarion stares at you, his brows pinching. When he speaks, his voice is hushed. “When my mother - rescued me,” he starts, shifting, “I was… different than before. She kept trying to get me back - to normal,” he says. He smiles, but it looks more like a grimace. “She didn’t want a vampire for a son. Most days, she could barely stand to look at me. I…”

He pauses, giving a light, loose gesture, then turns his gaze to an empty spot of the tent. “I really thought she cared about me until then. How kind of her to open my eyes.”

Your hands clench into the pillow under you. You force them to relax. “It sounds like she wanted a trophy rather than a son,” you tell him. “You deserve better than that.”

He tuts. “Bleeding heart, spouse of mine,” he responds, leaning toward you. “Come here, darling.”

He pulls you in for a kiss, and the outside world melts away.

When you finally gather the strength to emerge from your tent that evening, Cal is waiting for you.

The sight of him carves a fresh, bleeding stab of pain into your chest. You keep your eyes very pointedly on the empty space in front of you, and he sighs.

“So this is it, then?” he asks. “You’re just going to ignore me?”

You whirl around on him, hands clenching into fists. “And what would you have me do, Cal? Jump for joy at the sight of you, after what you did? I’ve just heard your kingdom’s wonderful plans for me, and I’m supposed to - what? Be thankful that you’re imprisoning me? You lot are worse than Erelin!”

He flinches at the mention of the queen, but his shoulders square. “Gods below,” he says. “I know you’re upset, but if you’d just listen-”

“-Listen to what?” you ask. “To you, somehow making this better?”

“To reason!” Cal snaps. “For the sake of the gods. Listen to reason, child.”

When you don’t respond, trying to keep yourself from losing it all, he steps closer and lays his hands on your shoulders, giving them a light squeeze. “I know how Aris can be,” he says gently. “I know how you must feel. She is our leader, yes, but only out of necessity. She knows what must be done and is willing to do it. She’s not your parents, or their legacy.”

He shakes his head, continuing softly. “She wants to feel in control, you understand. But it’s you - you’re the one the soldiers are here for. Not her. If she loses you, she’ll have nothing. We’ve worked so hard - and the gods know I’ve tried my best with you. Keeping you safe, keeping you shielded from what you are: it was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”

He steps a little closer, and the familiar scent of him, cinnamon and sandalwood, is making you want to fling yourself in his arms. When you were small, he used to wrap those arms around you and squeeze, claiming he was squeezing away all your sadness. What you wouldn’t give to feel such comfort again.

“Don’t confuse Aris with Calthir,” he says. “She’s intense, but she alone does not signify what this kingdom stands for.”

“And what does it stand for?” you ask. “Holding a ruler against their will? Sham marriages? Fake governments?”

“It stands for goodness,” Cal says. “How many times have you felt dissatisfied with this world? How many times has an unfair ruling been laid down by the queen?”

“It doesn’t matter,” you bite out. “I won’t even be laying down the new rulings. You’re using me for power, and I’m not getting even a taste of it.”

“Or so you’ve been told,” Cal replies. “Aris doesn’t trust you. How can she, when you brought an Ancunín with you? Gods, even I was wary, and I raised you! I - I still don’t understand your attachment to him!”

You just stare at him, giving a slight shrug. “Erelin makes him suffer as much as the rest of us, Cal,” you murmur. Your voice is quiet, choked. “You don’t understand.”

He takes in a long inhale. “You have a good head on your shoulders,” he says. “I want to trust you on that. It’s not like you to be swayed by a pretty face, but… gods, I don’t know.”

“Try to trust me, then?” you ask. “I’d appreciate that, considering that no one will even be trusting me to rule. I won’t even have a say in my own kingdom.”

His brows pinch. “That’s not true. You’ll be on a council of ruling. Multiple people in power. And, no matter what Aris says, you’d have your vote on that.”

He takes another step forward, and his hands seem to scorch through your clothes, warming you from the outside in. “You could do so much good,” he says. “Give it time. Aris will soften. She’ll see who you are, just like I see you.”

“And what do you see?” you ask weakly.

He smiles. “Someone strong. Who does the right thing, when it comes down to it. Someone fit to rule.”

You look in his clear, grey eyes and wonder when exactly it was that he stopped actually seeing you.

You gently ease out of his grip, heading toward the edge of the camp, but you can feel him watching you. You can feel that damned spell of his still present on your skin. He thinks he’s doing the right thing, no doubt. It’s the complex so many have: that in order to succeed, things must be compromised, precious things sacrificed.

You’d just never thought that it would be you on the table, a lamb up for slaughter.

The next few weeks consist of the same progression of events, over and over again, played like a hellish retelling of the same story. You and Astarion are escorted around, but given no real freedom. Even the woods seem like an upgrade - at least you’d been able to choose the direction you were walking in. Such a brief taste of it, before it had been robbed from you.

You’re taken to and from meetings. You’re provided with books to keep yourself entertained. You’re provided with decent rations, clean clothes, and the occasional bath. These are the luxuries your life consists of.

You and Astarion lightly chat at night, but there’s nothing more than the occasional kiss, a brief touch of his thumb over your cheek. A shared bedroll. The circumstances of your situation are off putting enough, but it’s the soldiers and their constant, loud conversations through the night that ruin the mood for anything else.

As for the camp, there’s something unmistakably brewing in the air.

You hadn’t been able to feel it at first, but as you and Astarion spend more and more time in this place, it’s immediately clear that something is happening. You hear whispers, bits and pieces of things you can’t make out, but something is clear: there’s a restlessness to the place, like something held in chains but waiting to break free.

You may hate Erelin, but you at least admire her intelligence, her cunning. Aris, you despise through and through.

She treats you like a puppet. For the few, brief meetings you’re permitted to attend, she speaks over you, ignoring you when you chip in, not even looking you in the eye. It’s very clear that you are nothing more than your title to her, and at night, you dream of setting fire to her precious battle plans and watching the smug look on her face fall flat.

Astarion plays more bored than anything else, but you see the occasional slip of anxiety in his shoulders, the restless way he paces about. Wherever Erelin is, how will she know you’re here? Will she really use your blood to track you, like he’d told you in the carriage all that time ago?

Cal, meanwhile, has taken to following you around. It seems that he thinks, with enough time, you’ll forgive him. You don’t even look at him. If he’d ever agreed to you living like this, then he really couldn’t give a shit about you. You’re determined to mirror that feeling back to him.

Three weeks in, the camp begins its march. From what you’re hearing, Aris is joining forces with another post outside the city, but what it means for you is that you and Astarion are dragged along with the soldiers, forced by day to endure the burning sun, and given a barren tent to rest in at night.

It’s a long journey, consisting of aching feet and sweat-stained clothing and the faint brushes of relief under the shade. There must be a thousand times your eyes flit to the trees, aching to break free from this hell, but you know it’s useless. Cal puts a new tracking spell on you each morning to ensure it doesn’t expire. You shoot daggers at him through your eyes and hope he knows you hate him.

When the group finally, mercifully arrives, there’s so much chaos that you can barely think. You can’t even rest. There are so many soldiers milling around that you can’t possibly imagine how the city doesn’t realize they’re there - or maybe they do, and just don’t care.

Baldur’s Gate in of itself has no resources for war. Erelin might, and she has control over the city, but it’s not so simple. War means planning and resources and death. War means defending your actions to your people. If Calthir hasn’t attacked any major sections, then any preventative action Erelin might take will come off as dealing the first blow.

Even with the spell on you, you’re tempted to run. You’re not sure how accurate the tracking is, but in the city, you could blend in with the crowd. It’s hectic enough here to get away without anyone noticing, likely not for hours. You could hide with someone you trust. Someone who knows magic well.

But you don’t dare to risk it. If they catch you and Astarion, who knows what will happen to him. Instead, you stick by his side for the most part, wandering about long after the sun has set and the night has brought in her velvet skies. He retreats to your assigned tent once it’s dark, but you don’t follow him.

As you stroll along your new boundaries, passing by a small, inconspicuous tent, a raised voice catches your attention. Cal’s raised voice. It stops you in your tracks. You’ve seen him devastated, frustrated, determined. This is none of those. This is pure rage like you’ve never seen, bellowed anger that you’re not supposed to overhear.

“-cannot stand for this,” he’s saying. “I know you hate the boy, but this? This is not who we are!”

“This is who we must be,” comes a voice that can only be Aris. “We don’t stand a chance by ourselves. Alliances must be formed, and we cannot be stingy about our choices. Rebellions require sacrifices, Cal! If we let every moral dilemma stop us, we’d be nowhere!”

“Morals are the entire gods damned reason we’re doing this!” Cal protests. “Or have you lost sight of why we’re truly here? What we’re fighting for?”

“We’re fighting to win,” Aris replies. “Everything else is secondary. I thought you understood that.”

There’s a long, cutting silence. Your heart pounds erratically in your chest.

“They’ll never trust you after this,” Cal says. His voice sounds thick, strangled. “I hope you know that. You’ll ruin every chance of them cooperating.”

“If that’s the price that must be paid, so be it,” Aris replies.

You hear footsteps approaching and instantly duck behind the tent, waiting for the sound to fade until you’re sure they’re both gone. Alliances, she’d said. The word itches at your mind, burying itself within your distrust. Alliances with whom? What are they planning?

As carefully as you can, you sneak into the tent they’d been in. It’s small and dark, with only the barest bit of light from a torch outside spilling inside. It takes a bit of digging to find anything behind basic battle plans and lists of stations, but when you do, your heart sinks down to your stomach. Something sick and nauseating flows under your skin.

It’s simply a letter, accepting an unspecified plan. Bring what I ask for, it says, and I will fight at your side. What’s most important, though - what’s sickeningly relevant - is not the contents, but rather, the person it’s from.

In a neat, cursive scrawl at the bottom of the page is the undeniable signature of Lord Cazador Szarr.

tags: @amica-aenigmata-naboo @sadslasher13 @peachy-possum @the-lonely-abyss @maddiedrmr @starved-kitten @catching-fire-in-the-wind @aoirohi @g0retash

#astarion x reader #astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion x tav #baldurs gate 3 x reader #astarion x you #mywriting

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