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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

Text

I.R.L.📷2

Warnings: noncon sexual acts and rape, voyeurism/exhibitionism, slight stalking, masturbation, naughty talk.

This is dark!(camboy!)Andy Barber. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your guilty pleasures becomes and all too real terror.

Note: Okay, here’s the second and last part of this short little piece. Thanks for reading and the excitement. I’m sorry if I’m a bit blegh rn.

Thank you so much for your patience! And support!!

As always, if you are so inclined, please like, reblog, and comment. <3

Andy stared at the chat. He waited and waited but the green dot didn’t pop up. Maybe she was freaked out after meeting him. Or maybe she was over him. Her name hadn’t blipped up in any of his sessions in the last week and he even invited her to an impromptu private show after he got back from the café. He hoped her seeing him might nudge her but it only seemed to scare the fuck out of her.

He recalled how she nearly fell on her face running away from him. That wasn’t the reaction he was expecting. No preening or smiles, just terror and a quick escape. He didn’t understand. He was a good looking guy and she was obviously lonely. Hell, she was cute too. He was hardly disappointed.

He waited another fifteen minutes, distracting himself with the colour matching game on his phone but her status remained inactive. He scrolled through his bookmarks and clicked on her insta profile. She had commented on some DIY tutorials in the last hour but hadn’t posted. She only ever added pictures of flowers anyway; her last photo of herself was from a year ago. It was her and some guy but he could guess they were no longer together.

He was starting to get upset. She was ignoring him. He wasn’t stupid but what had he done? Their sessions were going well up until this week and he actually looked forward to them. He felt that same thrill he had when he first started his hustle.

He slammed his laptop shut and dropped his phone face down. Fuck it, he had better stuff to do.

He crossed the room and grabbed one of the boxes still stacked against the wall. He hauled it over to the empty bookshelf and flipped it open. He unpacked the books one at a time and the heavy bookend shaped like half a globe. He didn’t know why he brought all these things, he didn’t use them. He wasn’t a lawyer anymore.

He leaned against the side of the sofa and crossed his arms. He boxed up his whole life, or what was left of it, and drove halfway across the country. She couldn’t even give him a hello or her name. She could hardly look at him and she wouldn’t answer his goddamn messages.

He pushed himself straight and stormed over to his laptop. He ripped it open and clicked on the chat. Still, nothing. The invitation was scheduled for less than an hour. Well, if she wasn’t going to open it, he’d have to get it to her another way. He was done waiting on her and he was done playing with her through a screen.

He wanted the real thing and he knew she wanted it too.

📷

You were still slightly addled from your encounter at the café. After you got home and unpacked your groceries, you didn’t find your coffee again until it went cold. You dumped it and replaced it with a glass of wine. You bought the bottle a month ago, expecting to unwind and that time finally came.

You sat with the healthy dose of alcohol, almost to the brim as it darkened the full belly of the glass. You wore only a baggy Winnie the Pooh tee and panties as you lounged and flipped on the tv.

You rarely used the front room anymore, ever since your boyfriend moved out you spent most of your time in the bedroom, exhausted and lonely. It was easier to just linger there between responsibilities.

Your dainty sips turned to greedy slurps as you turned on an episode of Project Runway and lost yourself in the competition and drama of it all. Your ex hated that show and you hadn’t watched it in years. It was time to get caught up with what would forever be your unfulfilled dream of being a designer.

By the runway, your glass was empty and the television had a soft glare as you were slightly buzzed by the high potency. The dark blend had a percentage in the double digits and you were feeling it, delightfully so. As the designers came up for their feedback from judges, more so a roast, you leaned back and wiggled your hips as you stretched. You yawned and closed your eyes as you listened to a designer give cutting critique of a hem.

You peeked under your lashes as the camera panned in on the fraying stitches. Well, it looked alright from far away. You bent your arm under your head as you turned onto your side and your eyes closed again as you pondered another glass of wine. That might give you a decent night’s sleep.

You inhaled and sat up, intent on another indulgence but you stopped short as you blinked in shock. You hadn’t drank that much. You couldn’t be hallucinating. You pressed yourself to the back of the couch and shook your head as you gaped at the figure stood just beside the tv, eyes calmly watching you.

“What…” you gulped.

“Shhhh,” the man, the one you watched all those nights on your laptop, brought his finger to his lips as he hushed you, “it’s okay, honey.”

“I--” your heart leapt into your throat and you stood as you swiped up your glass, “get out. How did--”

“I sent you an invitation. Several this week. You haven’t answered--”

You hit the glass off the table so it cracked and left a jagged edge. You jabbed it out at him from the other side of the coffee table, your hand shaking as the shock turned to a jolt of adrenaline.

“Go! Get out!” you snapped, too terrified to think on how he found you or if your meeting that day was truly a coincidence. It didn’t seem like it, “you’re crazy, get out of my--”

He marched around the table as you backed up and swung the glass at him. He caught your wrist and twisted it as he wrenched you close to him and pointed the sharp edge at your throat. The scent of him filled your lungs and mingled with the taste of wine as the glass pressed to your skin.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he warned, “so don’t make me.”

“Please--”

He said your name, calmly, as you drowned in his oceanic eyes. You quivered in his grasp and tensed as you tried to lean away from him, “Andy,” he offered, “that’s my real name.”

“Please, I don’t know what you want--”

“You know exactly what I want,” he hissed as he pulled away the glass and tossed it to shatter against the wall, “the same thing I always wanted… that you want.”

You took a deep breath and he clapped his hand over your mouth and tutted. His brows wrinkled in irritation and your drunken fingers bounced futilely off his shoulder. He turned you and sat you down on the couch and knelt with you, shushing you again as he settled on his knees on the floor.

“Honey, aren’t you tired of this? Of being apart? Of just… watching?” his eyes strayed from yours and he smiled as he eyed the yellow bear on your shirt, “that’s cute.”

You shook your head and murmured against his hand. His lashes flicked up and his jaw squared. His lips thinned as he considered you.

“Thing is, honey, I’d love to talk but you gotta promise not to scream,” he said, “and I mean that because I don’t want to gag you… not yet, anyway.”

Your eyes rounded and you nodded fervently as your breath puffed under his palm. He narrowed his eyes and shifted his hand slightly, moving it just an inch at a time as he watched you. You sniffled as he let his grip fall to your knee.

“Why? How…” you stuttered, “it was a mistake. Just a show--”

“You were always there,” he said as his other hand came up to your other knee and he ran his hands up and down your legs, “it didn’t sound like a mistake.” He pushed his fingers along the top of your thighs, “you enjoyed it.”

“It wasn’t… like that, just…”

He squeezed your thighs painfully and you winced. His fingers crawled up under the hem of your tee to the elastic of your panties and he hooked them beneath the fabric. You grasped his wrists in shock at his sudden movement and he looked you in the face.

“Say whatever you want, make your excuses,” he snarled, “you said you wanted me, you said it a dozen times, and I know you do.”

He tore down the cotton and you flailed out and caught yourself against the back of the couch. He rolled your panties down and untangled them from your ankles as you tried to close your legs. He kept your panties around his wrist as he stopped your knees from meeting and moved between them.

“Honey, now, I think we’ve had enough build up--”

“Hel--” you screamed and he grabbed your chin and snapped your mouth shut so that you bit your tongue.

He growled and shook your panties down over his hand. He brought up the twisted fabric and shoved it into your mouth. You tried to turn away from his grip as he stuffed the panties in with two fingers as deep as they would go and you almost gagged.

“It’s too bad,” he said, “I wanted to try that mouth… next time.”

You batted at his arms and chest and his hand shot to your throat. You stilled as he choked you, just enough for lungs to burn. He kept his hand on your neck until you sat back and he let it trail down the front of your shirt. He groped you through the fabric, rolling his thumb around your nipples as they hardened.

“I know you can be good, honey,” he hummed, “you’re just… nervous. I know what it’s like, trying to get over someone else. Trying to move on from a life you built-- a break-up, right? That lanky guy on your Insta--”

You gave a terrified flutter of your lashes and he smiled, a tight-lipped sympathetic gesture.

“Look, we’re two lonely people,” he kneaded your chest as he spoke and leaned in, “so, it only makes sense, and I promise, honey, the shows are over. It’s all for you now.”

You trembled as he dropped his hands and pulled up your shirt. He tickled your stomach with his knuckles and framed your tits with his hands as he admired them. You squirmed as he flicked them with his thumbs and leaned into you. He took one in his mouth and suckled. You whimpered as you felt a pluck in your core.

He parted with a pop and licked his lips, “I never… it was always hard to think of what you’d look like but I couldn’t picture anyone so perfect.”

Your nails dug into the couch cushions as you tried not to flinch. The glimmer of delight turned to disgust as you watched this stranger fondle you and he sealed his lips around your other nipple. You bit down on the cotton and moaned. You were so pathetic. It was your stupid moments of lonely desperation that brought you to this, that brought him to you.

His large hands spread along your sides and he pressed his fingertips into you sharply as he toyed with your nipples. He grazed his teeth along each bud and pulled back to look at you again. You grasped his shoulders as you begged him with your eyes and shook your head.

“I… always wanted to do this in the bedroom,” he said, “that’s where you usually are, huh? Touching yourself for me all alone in the dark--”

You hung your head in defeat and he pulled you forward on the cushion. He lifted you onto your feet and spun you around in the space between him and the couch. He put one hand on your hip and the other on the back of your neck and walked you around the sofa. He paced slowly behind you as he urged you down the hall and paused to peer through your bedroom door.

“Here we are,” he said as he angled you through the door. You reached up as your jaw ached around the wad of fabric and he caught your hand and yanked it down, “I didn’t say you could do that.”

You dropped your arm and he let you go. He pressed his body to your back as he nudged you closer to the bed and stopped you right before it. He bunched your shirt in his hands and tugged it up until you raised your arms. He swiped it over your head and let it crumple beside your feet.

“Go on, sit nice and pretty for me,” he tapped your ass lightly.

Naked, you shivered as you stepped away from him and got onto the bed. You turned as you bent your legs over the edge and lowered your chin. You hugged yourself as he stood watching you with his hands on his belt.

“Don’t you worry, it’s still a show,” he said as his hands slid over to his buckle.

He winked and ran his fingers up the front of his jacket and pulled it off. He draped it over the folding stool by your bookshelf and bent each leg to tug off his shoes. His socks followed shortly after and he squared his shoulders before he scooped his shirt up and off. He returned to his buckle and tilted his head at you.

“Look at me, honey,” he said as you stared at the pile of clothing, “we both know you love to watch.”

You raised your eyes to him and clamped your hands around your shoulders, arms crossed over your chest. He grinned and unbuckled his belt, his zipper gliding down smoothly beneath his fingers.

“You got me hard as fuck,” he said, “I didn’t like that earlier, you know? The way you ran from me.”

You just sat and tried to swallow the hopeless acceptance. He pushed down his pants and stepped out of them, his arousal bulging against his boxers. Your fingernails cut into your skin as you curled your fingers.

“You’ve been so good to me, honey,” he continued as he rolled down his boxers, “you know, I only want to return the favour. I came all this way just to get close so that--” he paused as his dick sprang up before him and he kicked away his underwear, “I can take care of you now.”

He gripped himself and stroked his length with a hum. His stomach tensed and the lines of his muscles deepened as he groaned and played with himself as he would before the camera. You were mortified as you watched him helplessly and he got closer and closer.

“Now you get the live show, honey,” he reached out and took your hand, closing it around his dick as he guided it up and down.

He moaned and hung his head back as he used both your hands on his shaft. He shuddered and leaned into your grasp. You listened to his pants as they grew quicker and quicker and he stopped you abruptly. You looked down at the glistening pre-cum as it leaked from his tip and he trailed his thumb through it as he let you go.

You flinched as he moved towards you suddenly and grabbed your hips. He lifted you and dropped you onto your back. He took your ankles and placed them against his shoulders as he stretched your legs up his torso. His cock slid along your cunt and hovered over your folds.

“Fuck, I can’t wait any longer,” he bit his lips and looked between your legs as he let go of one leg and reached down to guide himself between your lips, “oh, honey, your so sexy.”

He pushed apart your cunt with two fingers and slid in between his knuckles. He gasped as you stretched around him and you pushed your head back and whined around the fabric in your mouth. You whimpered as he drew back just a little and pushed in deeper. He rocked his hips, getting further each time as your walls strained around him.

He tilted you against him so that he reached his limit and slid his thumb along your bud. He swirled around your clit as he carried a slow motion, gliding in and out of you as you slicked around him. The tingle of his touch crept like tendrils beneath your flesh and made you clench around his dick.

He groaned and sped up, just a little as he played with you, pressing more firmly on your clit until your hand shot down over his. You didn’t move him away, only gripped his wrist as he toyed with you, fucking you deliberately as the sensation melded into a maelstrom. The twisting spring inside of you compressed and released suddenly in a ripple of sheer delight.

You groaned and bent your legs against him, raising your pelvis higher so he dipped even deeper. Your eyes rolled back and you ripped the panties from your mouth in your ecstatic trance. You balled them in your hand and writhed on his dick.

He grasped your hips and dragged your ass over the edge of the bed and rammed into you. You cried out and he did it again. It was as if he lost all control as his pelvis slapped against you loudly and his voice rumbled through the room. You gulped and gasped as he pressed the heel of his hand to your clit and rubbed harder, his fingers stabbing sharply against your flesh.

His other hand snaked up to pinch your nipple and cup your tit. He braced you as he bent over you and fucked you furiously. He stepped up onto the edge of the bed frame as he curled your body beneath his and brought both his hands up beside your head as he held himself over you.

He plunged down into you over and over and he huffed as he watched the joining of your bodies. He growled and pulled out of you suddenly, bending your legs up as you were contorted further. He grabbed your hand again and trapped it around his dick, moving it quickly as he muttered.

He came in thick ropes onto your chest and down the folds of your stomach as you were in almost a C beneath him, his knees around your thighs. You shook and lifted his chin as he snarled and kept your hand moving, still cumming over you. He tore your grasp from him as he grew over sensitive and hung his head as he quivered.

“Shit,” he swore as he backed off of you and stood, leaning on the bed to steady himself. Your legs fell over the edge and his cum cooled across your skin, “you look good like that, honey.”

He stepped closer and pushed his fingers through the mess. You shivered and stopped his hand as you slowly returned to reality. You lifted yourself on one elbow and batted your lashes in confusion.

“How did you even find me?” you uttered.

“Doesn’t matter how,” he grabbed your wrist and pulled you to sit up gruffly, “only that I did.”

#andy barber #dark andy barber #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #fic #two shot #one shot #defending jacob #dark fic #dark!fic #irl

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timextoxhajima · 3 years

Text

Nevertheless: Wishful Thinking [3]

[completed] [1] [2] [3] [4] [5]

synopsis: why would the college flirt want anything to do with the innocent heartbreaker? a [somewhat] nevertheless au featuring tbz's eric son young jae

genre [per chapter]: suggestive material, smut *this series is a smut series so* please don't read if you're uncomfy. if you're underaged and you still wanna read, i'm not stopping you. i don't care because that's your responsibility to know what's fiction and what's not.

word count: i genuinely don't fucking know i think it's at least 4k WHY THE FUCK IS IT GETTING LONG ERJSJSJSJDNAKD

taglist: @from-xero @taeyongandfree @ten-gift @louvyves @sweetutopia @yyyereum @jung-breadshop @sunwoowuvbot @mashedpotittiess

protip: links of BGM are linked~

{this is a work of fiction}

eric swipes his thumb across his bottom lip and drags his index finger over the tip of his nose, tongue still sucking on his teeth as if it hadn't already been a day.

he was sitting on the other side of the tutorial room and you just so happened sat in a spot where he was the first person in your view when you looked up.

stupid hexagonal tables.

the moisture in your mouth suddenly evaporates, leaving your tongue dry like sandpaper against the roof of your mouth.

the lustful blanket over his eyes threaten to rip your mentality apart, and even without him touching you, the heat in your abdomen starts to clench and throb.

the thought crosses your mind, just so you can convince yourself: if eric can associate himself with sex within your primal instincts then the brain that got you here can associate him with a big, fucking, red flag.

you suck in a deep breath and hold it for awhile, eyes plastered to the ipad under your palms. crossing your legs tightly, your jeans hug your hips and waist all too perfectly.

yujeong had smacked one of her baseball friends earlier that day for staring at your legs.

after the likes of wooseok's party and the incident yesterday, you made it an effort not to show up in dresses or skirts anymore. call it ptsd, call it trauma, call it not wanting to get into trouble.

whatever it was, you didn't want eric anywhere near you.

well, despite how good he mad-

"can you stop eye-fucking him from across the room?" yujeong harshly whispers at you, glaring at you from the corner of her eyes.

"what?" throwing your tied-up hair to your other shoulder, you tilt your face to her.

"what do you mean 'what'?" yujeong hisses, nodding to the boy across the room. "y'all are fucking in your heads!"

"yes, broadcast it to the entire class, would you, please?" the sarcasm drips off your tongue with a frown.

"I'm just saying if you want him so bad then just go get a room. fucks' sake, go find a practice room or something."

"i think I'll go with 'or something'."

and in that second, your iPad lights up with a notification from the school email account.

yujeong parts her lips with a retort, but you quickly shush her by pressing a finger to your lips when the professor seemed to glance over at the two of you.

she inhales a deep breath, spotting the notification pop up on her laptop screen too.

to: all students

from: the college union

title: dance union winter getaway

dear students,

every year, more than 200 students apply for the dance union but only 20 are accepted. thus, it is of high regard that the members of the dance union utilise the annual winter getaway to bond.

this year's event will be held at lake white. all students in the dance union with leadership positions are expected to be present and those with valid reasons of absence are required to fill up the form attached to this email.

if you're interested in joining the dance union, please apply in the first week of the new academic year. applications open first week of the semester.

regards,

the student union

staring wide-eyed at the email with your apple pencil trembling in your fingers, you gulp.

fuck.

yujeong's lowly snicker sounds from next to you, and you look to her, only to watch a bright smile stretch across her face.

"what?" she snorts, tears in her eyes. "don't look at me. look at your captain."

your neck snaps to the boy across the room, who's got his phone lifted with the screen displaying the email page. he waves it around a little, raising a brow with a menacing shimmer flashing across his eyes.

your blood begins to boil without reason.

why were you suddenly stuck to him? it's like the planets and stars aligned just so he glue himself to you; so he could ruin your title and rip you apart, inch by inch.

your fists clench around the apple pencil, and you're only snapped out of your inner rage when the professor calls on you.

yujeong leans into the lockers with her books against her chest, mindlessly scrolling through her phone as you go on incessantly about the student union's decision to make it mandatory.

you swing the locker door so hard that it bounces off its limit and nearly comes back down onto your hands, but you stop it before it does.

"how does the fucking winter getaway improve our bonds?" you hurl a textbook into the locker. "it's not like we're gonna sit in a circle and sing hallelujah, right?"

"you went for that getaway last year-"

"yeah, and we did nothing besides getting shitfaced! fuck this stupid winter getaway."

"sis, say that any louder and your 'innocent heartbreaker' image is gonna change into something more like 'brutal heartbreaker'."

"don't fucking call me that," you hurl another book into your locker. "and why does everybody talk like that nowadays? 'say that any louder'? where was that from? a movie? a tiktok?"

"why are you so on edge?" yujeong pushes herself off the metal doors and frowns. "you've been on edge ever since wooseok's party."

"i am always on edge."

"what?" yujeong pulls her lips up into a slight wince as her eyes half into squints. "bullshit. what happened to your little 'innocent heartbr-"

"don't," you lift a finger, shutting your eyes and stopping her. "say another word."

yujeong raises both her brows, smirk plastered to her face as she readjusts her bag. "don't worry."

you look up at her, placing the last item in your locker.

"i don't have to."

"what?"

"so," then that godforsaken voice rings from behind you, and all your physical senses start to shut down one by one.

yujeong sees right past it, smirk turning into something less devious as she puffs her cheeks.

"about the winter getaway."

"i'll leave the two of you at it."

"what? no-"

"bye!"

"yujeong-"

she turns and strides off, short hair lathered around her neck. she waves with a bright grin, leaving you to back face the vicious heartbreaker.

you remain rooted to the ground, locker door wide open and bag slung around your right shoulder. eric waits until yujeong disappears down the hall, leaving a few other students within the vicinity to turn and stare at the two infamous dance captains.

eric walks to your side, reaching out and resting his palm on the outer edge of your locker.

"we're in open space," he smiles, gradually pushing the locker door inwards and closing it for you. then he rests his palm against the metal door, sandwiching you again. "there's not much i can do to you."

a few students turn to stare.

"unless you want me to."

"stop it."

"stop what?" he smirks and buckles his arms, forcing you to lay your back flat against the metal surface. "I'm not doing anything."

"then what are you doing now?" you frown and look up at him, knuckles whitening around your bag straps.

"having a conversation."

someone fishes a phone out, and the flashlight flickers.

eric whirls around, keeping his arm anchored to the locker.

"stand down, kid."

"sorry," he fumbles with the phone, and now you'll never know if he actually took a picture.

"anyway-"

"look, i don't know what kind of game you're playing but this isn't healthy for us if we are supposed to work together. especially with the winter getaway coming up."

eric licks his lips and lowers his head, smiling at the sudden cast of professionalism.

"it flatters me that you don't care too much about having fucked outside of wooseok's garage-"

"eric-"

"nor getting fucked out in the practice room-"

"eric-"

"or even the fact that you tied up your hair today-"

"i tie up my hair whenever i fucking want to."

"ooh," eric winces at the snap, his pearly whites glimmering under the lighting. "the 'innocent heartbreaker' is angry!"

"will you shut the fuck up?"

"aw," he coos, leaning into you and breathing down your philtrum. "make me."

your fists finally clench, jaws locked and temples tightened.

"I'll rip off your dick if you touch me again. now, back off."

you press your palms flat into his chest and shove him away, breaking him into light chuckles as he stumbles back.

you pull your bag back onto your shoulder, turning sharply and stomping off.

"hey! we still need to meet up to discuss the plans for lake white!"

the scent of half-painted canvases with acrylic paint washes through your nose when you enter your room.

it's definitely bigger than what a normal room should look like, but it's not your fault that both your parents work under Lee Enterprises, the country's telemarketing company.

the studio corner of your room is in a mess, and you're just halfway done painting the edges of your mirror.

which for specific reasons, you can't really look at it anymore.

the peculiar object you chose to decorate the glass surface hang idly on the corner of the frame, reflecting the afternoon sun spilling into the room.

eric son: so when do we discuss the plans for lake white?

eric son: i don't like to procrastinate

"'discuss the plans for lake white'," mumbling under your breath, you dump your bag into the corner of your room, huffing and resting your hands on your hips. "he's the damn captain, isn't he? he can do it on his own."

notification: acrylic paint to be delivered today

your phone automatically links up with the bluetooth speaker in the room, and you mindlessly tap on the shuffle button before pulling off your shoes.

eric son: okay so I'm thinking groups of four

you pull off your jacket and let the ends of your ponytail brush across your back where the camisole doesn't cover, cool air rushing across the hairs on your skin.

eric son: we can play truth or dare

the bass rumbles through the flooring as you pull off your jeans, throwing on one of those open-holed shorts that no one was ever going to see you in - not even yujeong.

the doorbell rings, yanking you out of your mental rage session over eric son.

acrylic paint.

picking up a cardigan and tying it around your waist, you jog down the stairs and pull open the door without hesitation.

She's just that type of girl

"what. in the world. are you doing here?"

eric tilts his head to the side, his eyes running the length of your body - all the way down to your feet and back up.

"you weren't replying my texts so i thought-" then he raises both hands from his sides, taking a step back and gesturing to your front porch like he owned it. "what better way to have your presence than to go to you?"

"how do you know where i live?" a frown befalls your brows, and your grip tightens on the door handle.

"it's in the school records for student leaders," he offers you a smug shrug, taking a step back to where he was previously standing.

your lips part in an attempt to challenge his explanation, but then he waves it off with a cheeky snicker. "I'm joking. yujeong told me."

"now, why the fuck would she give you my address?"

"hey, captain to captain! plus she knows i won't hurt you."

a scoff runs off your tongue. "you want me to believe that you won't hurt me?"

eric's tongue darts across his lips as he leans on the door frame. "not in your house. oh, i wouldn't dare, princess."

with a huff, you blink away the eye contact first, taking a step back and tugging on the door. "don't fucking call me that."

but his hand flies out and thuds against the wood, keeping the door open. he slowly steps forward, letting himself in.

"then what should i call you?"

"names exist," you step back and grip onto the empty arms of your cardigan around your waist. he closes the door, pulling the chain to lock it.

"then do you prefer y/n or 'innocent heartbreaker'?"

you squint at him, cocking your face at an angle as you back up again.

the answer settles in your head, but you can't say it out loud.

because he's already debunked it.

She's just that type of girl

"fun playlist," eric nods up the stairs, arm stretching out to you and snaking around your waist.

"don't fucking touch me-"

then his other hand circles you as well, his arms around you as he holds you to him, lowering his face into yours. an arching back tries to keep his face off yours, but any more and your spine would've snapped into two.

his nose presses into your cheek as he slots his lips between yours, and the world goes into a muffled silence for a few seconds.

or maybe that was just your playlist moving on.

your nails dig the inside of your clenched palm, fists against his chest as he pulls you up to deepen the kiss, lips moving with yours in some intricate dance of dominance.

on beat with the distant bass coming from your room.

he lets out the first groan, his hands gradually sliding down your back and groping the flesh of your rear that's poking out from under your shorts.

the harsh grip squeezes a whimper out from you, your entire body cringing forward into him and closing the gap between you. with one palm still holding onto your ass, the other comes back up in between your shoulder blades, keeping your chest plastered to his.

eric turns you around, holding you against the wall that leads up to the stairs. your back is flat against the surface, hair stuck to the felt of the wall with your thigh being pulled up over his pelvis.

We should just calm down and fuck some time

then he pulls away and huffs, lips hung wide open and his eyes completely lost in yours. in a low growl, subtly shakes his head as if to disapprove your disobedience against the song lyrics.

"oh, we fucking should."

eric doesn't bother waiting for a response before dipping his nose into your jaw, lips latching onto the tender skin of your neck.

"you coming here-" a jolt of bliss rushes through you when he finds a tender spot, his arms tightening around your waist to keep you close and against the wall. "-was not an invitation-"

the cologne on his clothes starts to intoxicate you like alcohol does to any normal person, the scent of his hair and his clothes wafting and shuffling all around you.

"but you don't hate me being here, do you, princess?" he mumbles into your skin, nipping at the spot behind your lobe. your eyes flutter shut, fists clenching against his shoulder blades.

"come on," he whispers. "we've done it outside and in a practice room, surely you must feel more comfortable in your own bed?"

your eyes widen upon the suggestion, the thought of that cursed object hanging over the corner of your mirror in the room suddenly pulling your soul back into your body.

"no, we can't."

eric pulls away from you, lips reddened from the nipping. they are apart, and his breathing slows as he studies your face.

the panic in your eyes is far too grave for him to miss.

"why not?"

gulp.

"you don't happen to-"

"it's not a vibrator."

eric raises his brows, caging you between his arms as he corners you further, chest on yours and his lips right above your lashes.

"perhaps a-"

"it's not a dildo either."

he pouts in slight disappointment when he can hear the stark honesty in your voice.

his chest rises and lowers under his shirt, listening to your breathing that hitches in your throat every now and then; observing your discipline to keep your eyes away from him.

"you're not gonna tell me what it is?"

glaring at him through the corner of your eye, you shake your head with a resounding 'no'.

he pauses.

then he leans into your ear.

"you being scared is just making me a little more curious, princess."

"curiosity kills the cat."

eric pulls away and slides his arms off the wall. "cats have 9 lives."

the number of sirens that go off in your head spikes, and before you can process his words, he grabs your arm and pulls you onto his shoulder.

"oh my god!" his arm wraps around your lower back, knees against his chest and the world from your eyes upside down as he hoists you up the stairs. "put me down, jesus christ!"

"the more you yell, the more you're gonna regret it, princess," he warns while chuckling to himself. "what could it be, if it's not a dildo or a vibrator?"

then the warmth of his palm reaches up to your shorts, and his fingers dig under the cloth of your underwear.

"fuck, eric-"

all too easily, he pushes a finger into you, your entire body cringing from the sudden intrusion. your eyes blur out just as he makes it to the second floor, and he doesn't need to ask which door he should be heading to.

not when your door has a framed portrait of yourself from last year's concert.

the door creaks open when he pushes the two of you into your room, greeting the sunlight drawn across the floor and his finger still buried inside you.

you heave a sigh when he pulls his finger out and shoves it into his mouth, leaning over your bed to rest you into the cushion.

automatically, his eyes are on high alert, scanning your room. but by the time you've regained your senses and the blood's returned to the rest of your body from your head, he finds it.

resting on the back of your forearms, your breath turns shakey and your eyes twitching from the sight of it dangling off his fingers.

eric turns to look at the mirror, turning the item in his fingers to match the painting of it on the edges.

"so," he returns to you, raising a cocky brow and smirking. "you get high off painting handcuffs on your mirror?"

you tightly shut your eyes as the frown cements into your forehead.

"fuck."

eric scoffs, tongue dragging across his upper lip as he walks towards you and lifts a knee to your bed, the other following.

"this really makes me question how you even got your reputation," eric jingles it from his fingers, his free hand reaching down to draw circles on your right ankle.

"it's just acrylic paint. i paint something new every month-"

"and so your choice for november was... handcuffs?" he wraps his hot fingers around your ankle and yanks you downwards, your crotch nearly meeting his knees.

"it's not my fault you decided to play this game the month i decided to get something remotely inappropriate."

"'remotely inappropriate'," eric repeats, smiling as he lowers himself. the handcuff still within his right hand, his left draws trails up your right leg, playing with the rim of your shorts where they were already riled up enough to expose a bit of your underwear. "so, tell me princess. why did you choose this-"

he holds it up and jingles it over your nose. "to paint?"

"surely it's not because it's pretty."

"or maybe you think it'll look pretty around your wrists?"

eric reaches for your hands and you struggle upon instinct, he pins your dominant hand down first and clips the first cuff around your wrist.

"eric-"

he finds your free hand and connects both your wrists, clipping the other cuff despite your struggling.

eric sucks a deep breath, then parts his lips to exhale. pushing himself off you, he pulls your shorts off first, eyes trailing across every inch of your body with your wrists cuffed together.

the thoughts wash through you involuntarily.

the wooden planks. the dress. the torn underwear.

the mirror. the fogging. the skirt.

the tears collect in the corners of your eyes even before he can completely get it off your ankles.

then he pulls your legs apart for him to lock them in place with his own thighs, crouching over your body like a lion devouring his prey.

he pushes your arms up and above your head, making it difficult for you to bring them back down with your wrists bound together.

his breath is hot on your chest where he first dips his nose into, tongue swiping across the skin of your heaving ribs. hands coming up your waist and pushing them up your torso, it exposes your ribcage and bra.

inch by inch, he breaths down the length of your torso, from your chest and over to your stomach with your camisole rolled up messily over your bra.

upon reaching the rim of your underwear (and heaving stomach as you pant and huff in a bid to calm your nerves), he stops and looks up at you.

"thank god you rejected wooseok."

then both his hands come down to your chest to rip apart your camisole, pulling it out from under you before he unbuckles your bra.

you swallow the first whimper already on the tip of your tongue, but your stomach plunges and your back arches violently when he takes the tip of your breast between his lips.

left hand coming round to grip your other, his right travels down to play with your sensitivity, forcing your body into subtle jolts with the overwhelming sensation.

he tugs on your tip, grazing it between his teeth before releasing it and latching his lips onto the tender flesh in a bid to make his mark.

your brows finally furrow into a frown of bliss, jaw hung agape though struggling to contain the lewd noises prancing about in the back of your throat.

he rolls the other tip between his index finger and thumb, sucking and kissing the reddening flesh of your chest.

and down below, he's pushed your underwear aside, thumb abusing your sensitivity and buckling your hips upwards.

he provides you one sharp bite on your tip, earning a strained hiss from between your teeth. it feeds his pride, for he removes himself off you completely and stares down at you, admiring the painting he's made on your chest.

hickeys.

grip marks.

and the wet patch on your underwear between your legs.

he turns and shifts off the bed, leaving you to catch your breath and cross your legs over one another.

the clacking about in your studio corner drives the tears into your eyes, listening to the lid of the box where you keep your paint come off.

you shut your eyes, resigning to fate.

for your body is in burning need and the discipline to go against his word has betrayed you.

you hear his belt come undone, the weight of his clothes hitting the carpeted ground before the mattress around your legs sink again.

"oh... princess~" he sings, coaxing you out of your mental begging that this was just a nightmare.

a corner drags across your stomach, and your eyes fly open to see his fingers wrapped around a bottle of acrylic paint, completely oblivious to him pulling your underwear off your legs.

black.

the only color that was still relatively abundant.

then the sight of his nudity drives you up a wall inside your head; better yet, driving your resignation up against your own skull.

the lines of his pelvic bone leading down to his manhood all for your eyes to feast on, and even if you wanted to look away, you couldn't.

fuck.

"listen to me very carefully, princess..." he shakes the bottle, then proceeds to unscrew the cap. "I'm sure you don't want any of these on your bed, right?"

chills run through your body when he tilts the bottle over, squeezing the paint onto his palms.

"so," he blinks back to you, eyes wide and cautious. "my advice?"

and with that, he carefully caps the bottle, effortlessly tossing it over his shoulder and back into the box.

he presses his palms together, spreading the paint across his skin.

"don't move too much."

with a wide grin, he smudges the paint into your thighs and up your stomach, sliding the paint all the way to your breasts where he offers a harsh grip.

he doesn't give you a chance to respond to that before he slides himself into you, your neediness allowing him entrance far too easily.

by now, your body was somewhat conditioned to recognise his size, but the idea of him buried deep inside you and his groaning coating the room makes you a little more feral; a little more insane.

the whimper that runs off your tongue is mercilessly lapped up by him when he leans over to kiss you, tongue shoved into your mouth in a bid to shut you up.

he rolls his hips back and forth, unwilling to stop and definitely unwilling to give you any kind of mercy when it comes to making you lose your grip on reality.

he pulls away and resumes an upright position, abs flexed and his palms still gripping onto your chest like his life depended on it.

but eric seems to be a little on edge himself, for this was his first time seeing all of you under him, instead of your humility covered by a dress or a skirt and worrying about being caught in school.

no.

now, he can feast his eyes on you like the predator he is.

not only does he decide to leave his own marks, but marks that you gave him access to.

his handprints are black on your skin and the entire bed is jerking along with every thrust he's offering you.

you finally let out a strained cry, tears collecting in your eyes with the bliss rushing through you over and over again like a broken record. eric's breath turns shaky, and his grip on you begins to loosen when his thighs start to convulse.

by some miracle, the last thrust hits your climax and he pulls out almost immediately after to coat the paint on your stomach with himself.

cream on black.

eric huffs arrogantly, taking deep breaths to retain his breathing as he releases you, stepping back to take in the sight of you in your own bed, ruined by him.

"you definitely look pretty in cuffs."

#nevertheless: wishful thinking #eric smut #the boyz smut #tbz smut #eric sohn smut #eric scenarios #eric imagines #the boyz scenarios #the boyz imagines #tbz scenarios #tbz imagines #eric x reader #eric sohn x reader #the boyz x reader #this was too filthy

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slashermovieslut · 4 years

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Third Time’s The Charm - Chapter Two - Joe Goldberg x Male Reader

(A/N: This chapter contains some NSFW content! I tried my best to be neutral about reader’s genitals, so I didn’t imply one set or the other. This chapter also contains triggers for the reader being kind of mistreated by their roommate, but nothing intense. And as always, the standard obsessive stalker triggers that come with our favorite creep!)

Your Facebook is public, which is good for me but also bad, because what if some creep used it to stalk you, (y/n)? You don’t post on it anymore, not for ten months, but there are plenty of things on it that tell me more about you. You go to college at St. Joseph’s, so your hoodie really was from your college, and your status is single, thank god. There are plenty of pictures of you on your profile, almost all of them years old. You left Facebook when your parents and aunts started joining, just like most people your age. Your family tag you in all sorts of posts. Events, photos together, chain mail letters, jokes… you don’t respond to all of them, and I hope if I tagged you in something you would respond to me, but it wouldn’t be some cartoon character talking about getting wine drunk in the middle of the afternoon.

Your aunt, the one with the wine memes, she likes to check in when she goes places. She should really stop doing that, (y/n), because it puts you in danger. Your address is just out there for everyone to see, because on September fifteenth at 2.34 in the afternoon she checked into the Statewell apartment building with the caption, “Moving my nephew into his new apartment!” But the Statewell apartments are close, and they are in one of the bad areas of town, which I don’t like. How much do you worry at night that something bad will happen while you sleep? If I was with you I would protect you, or better yet, move you out of that dangerous little cardboard box apartment and into my place.

I watch you sometimes, in secret. It’s not hard, not like it was with Beck. I don’t have to wear disguises or hide, I can stand out in the open without worrying about being recognized. On a street like this, people mind their business. Except me, of course. I’m minding your business, and your business is beautiful, (y/n). You’re as dirty as I thought, sitting on your living room couch with your laptop propped against the coffee table, pleasuring yourself to the tinny sounds of porn through the laptop speakers. God, everything about you is fucking perfect, isn’t it? I could watch for hours, even if all I can see is a silhouette through sheer white curtains. I really need to buy you better curtains, so other people won’t see you like this, because I don’t think you even know they can see you. You’re self conscious, I can tell, so I bet you don’t even think they would care to stop and look, but you’re wrong. You are worth watching, probably too worth it, because now I have to worry that I might not be the only one watching you.

Your apartment is on the first floor, right on the corner, so you have two windows. The front one is lit up and neat looking, but the side window is covered with boards, nailed haphazardly by someone who hardly knows how to hold a hammer. Was that you, (y/n)? I want to see inside the house, but the curtains block just enough to keep me from picturing the little environment you remain cooped up in all day. I peek through the cracks between boards instead, peering into a darkened room that looks like a disaster zone. Is this your room? If it is you are messy, but I can forgive messy if I have to because it’s you, and I love you already, mess and all.

I am acting casual, acting like I have stopped to grab a newspaper from the box in front of your apartments when I see that you have company. He pulls a key out like he owns the place and he unlocks the door, walking in and not even wiping his feet, tracking mud in on carpets that look freshly vacuumed, and I hate him right away, even more than I would hate him just for existing near you. He doesn’t respect you, I can tell, and I don’t care if he’s a friend or something else, you deserve better. He steps on the backs of his shoes to remove them and marches into the house, splaying out on the couch, your couch, the couch I’ve seen you masturbating on every night this week.

“Hey, do you have rent yet?” You ask from the hall. You sound nervous to even ask, and I can’t tell if you’re just anxious or if you have a reason to be worried, but if this man gives me any more reason to hate him I might have to do something about him. Still, if you need a roommate in a cheap little place like this, you’re in worse of a place than I thought you were.

“No, I don’t have rent yet, stupid, I thought I told you already that I’m still looking for a job.” He replies, and I want to tear his tongue out for talking to you that way, but I just stand next to the box, pretending to read a newspaper, but clutching it so tight it starts to rip at the edges. Who the hell is this guy and why does he think it’s ok to use that tone with you? Does he think you’re his servant or something? I need to know who the hell this guy is, and what he is to you. If he’s your boyfriend, you’ve got terrible taste, (y/n). I’m going to show you how a real man will treat you, and you’ll never want an asshole like this again. I am spending too much time near your house. It’s early morning and I should be taking care of opening the shop but instead I am on the other side of the street from your apartment, watching your door and waiting to see you again. I’m losing it, I know, and I should be trying to stop this, or somehow slow it down, but it’s like an avalanche, once you start it you really can’t stop it, and I have already started falling in love with you, (y/n).

You walk right past me as you leave, and I almost hope you’ll recognize me, but thank god you don’t. As you pass I reach out, slipping the phone out of your back pocket and into my jacket, and I think you would hate me for this if you knew I’d done it, but you will never know, because I’m going to be more careful this time. I’m going to hide this in the shop, not in my apartment. I’ll keep it in the cage, with all the other precious things I own. As I walk away, toward the bookshop, I scroll through your phone, taking in the little slice of your life stored within the screen. You have two missed texts from someone named Hunter, “I’m sorry” and “I just need a little longer.” I don’t need to read anything else to know who it is, but I open the messages anyways, because I want to know who he is, what he is to you. There’s years worth of messages here, but it only takes me a few minutes of scrolling to find what I want to know…

This is all the information I need to make my decision. As soon as I possibly can, I am going to make sure Hunter is never a part of your life again.

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sapphireplums · 4 years

Text

You’re Not Alone

Description: Y/N Barber the twin sister of Jacob Barber decided to go for a jog one day, but who knew her whole life can change in matters of seconds.

Warnings: angst, language, sexual assault -DON'T READ IF YOU’RE NOT COMFORTABLE

Pairing: Andy Barber x Daughter!Reader Jacob Barber x Sister!Reader

A/N: if any of you guys have ever been assaulted in any type of way, i'm so sorry that has happened to you. you guys are all beautiful and strong human beings. if anyone wants to talk my inbox is open :)

While reading this, listen to lovely by billie eilish. it really sets the mood for the story.

REQUESTS ARE OPEN BABES

A second. It only took seconds for you to not pick up your phone call from your brother. It was one of those moments where you did not to pick up the phone because you were distracted. But because of that, it almost cost you your life.

THREE HOURS BEFORE THE ASSAULT

♧

You and your older twin brother Jacob were walking home from school arguing about what dog is cuter. You know, the ususal twin stuff.

“No, Jake, German Shepherds are the cutest dog out.” You said with confidence.

“No, Y/N, Corgi’s are the cutest obviously.” Your twin brother kept saying. “ And I'm obviously right because I'm older than you by 49 seconds.”

He always used the ‘older twin’ card on you.

The argument lasted about a few minutes until you guys just gave up and agreed that they were both cute. However, in your mind , you kept saying German Shepherds were better.

“I’m hungry Jake. What do you think we’re going to have for dinner tonight?” You said as your stomach was rumbling.

“ You thinking what I’m thinking?” Jacob said with a smirk knowing that your twin telepathy was tingling.

“Ohhh yessss.” Then you both shouted at the same time:

“KENTUCKY FRIED CHICKEN.”

When you guys got home, you saw your mom on the couch typing something on her laptop.

“Hey kids, how was school today?” Laurie said looking up from her laptop.

“It was good mom” You said and you gave Jacob the look basically saying ‘tell mom we want kfc’

Jacob groaned. “Mom can we get kfc for dinner? Me and Y/N have been craving it for a while”

“Is that your guys’ twin thingy where you want the same thing and think the same thing?” Laurie said smiling at the thought of how her kids got along so well and had a strong sibling bond.

“ Yes mom, yes it is.” you said as chips were being stuffed into your mouth. “But can we actually get kfc though? Jake and I have been craving it for a while.”

“Sure you guys, I’ll pick it up around the time you dad will come home”

“Thanks Mom.” You both said at the same time.

Going up to your guys’ room, Jacob turned on his video games while you were watching YouTube.

He was talking to his gaming friend through the earpiece yelling words at him and the tv.

You just rolled your eyes and smiled slightly at your brothers actions. Closing your laptop, you looked outside the window and saw that it was a nice day, so you asked Jacob if he wanted to take a jog with you.

“ Hey Jake, do you want to take a jog with me? It’s really nice outside right now.”

“ Sorry, maybe not this time sis. I’m really into this game.” Jacob said making you frown slightly.

“It’s okay Jake maybe next time.” Jacob turned his head towards you and smiled in agreeance.

You got ready and then tied your shoes when you were near the door.

“Mom, I’m going for a jog!” You yelled as you finished tying your shoes.

“Okay honey be home before dinner.” Your mom said as she was washing the dishes.

Running around the block, you took in the fresh air of the moisture that was in the air. Living in Massachusetts also meant wet weather which you loved. Summer wasn't really your favorite season but it was Jacobs. Being twins doesn’t mean you all like the same thing.

You and Jacob had the best sibling relationship not because you were twins, but that you just bonded in general. There is nothing he wouldn’t do for you and you thought the same.

Getting tired from the constant running, you decided to take a walking break and scroll through Instagram. As you were scrolling, your screen lit up with your dads contact picture. It was the two of you on a fishing trip making funny faces.

“Hey dad how’s work?” You asked slightly out of breath due to the running.

“ Hey Sweetheart, after work I’m going to go to the grocery store and get those cookies you really like and I was thinking you and I can have a movie night?”

“Dad, you know I’m always up for movie night” you chuckled. “What about Jake and mom?”

“Mom texted me saying that she was going to go shopping for swim trunks or something and Jake is going too so it's just going to be you and me.”

“Okay dad, sounds good to me can’t wai-”

“I’m sorry honey I have to go back now, I’ll see you at home. I love you.”

“I love you too dad.” He hung up the phone rather quickly but you didn’t think much of it because you were going to see him at home anyways

Well so you thought. You thought you were going to be home at your normal time. Thinking that it would just be another normal day, but it would be far from that.

After the short walking break and talking to your dad, you decided to start your jogging again. Jogging was one of the activities you liked to do after a long day to release the stress that was contained in you. Sometimes you would go with Jacob but today he didn’t feel like it.

Imagine if you just stayed on call a little longer with your dad or if Jacob went with you. Everything would be different. Every decision you make on a day to day basis affects your life.

When jogging, up ahead you saw a man drop a box full of what looked like children's toys like dolls and race cars. Being the nice person you were, You approached the man and helped him pick up the toys.

Oh what a big mistake.

“Oh, sir, let me help you with that,” you said bending down picking up the toys that were on the ground.

“Thank you so much, darling,” the man said with a somewhat creepy smile, but you brushed it off.

Your phone started to buzz and you saw your screen light up with Jacob’s face, but you ignored it as you were still helping the man. You were thinking of just calling Jacob back later when you had the chance.

If you had the chance.

After helping the man, he stated his thanks to you.

“Thank you again, honey,” you really started to get freaked out by this man especially since he was calling you these names.

You gave him a nervous smile. “ You’re welcome, but I should get going now,” you said but before you could turn around and go back home, the man grabbed your wrist tightly, preventing you from going anywhere.

“You are right where I want you sweetheart”

Before you could scream, he covered your mouth with a wet towel. The smell was really bad. Next thing you know, you’re knocked out like a light switch.

♧

You woke up with a pounding headache. Trying to flutter your eyes open, you noticed you were in the backseat of a van. The next thing you saw made you panic. Your hands tied with your feet attached to them making it look like a fetus position.

Before you could try and do anything, the man opened the doors to the van, revealing a wicked grin. Your eyes grew wide when he started to grow closer to you with duct tape.

“Shhh don’t worry love I won't take long.”

You were confused what he meant by that. What did he mean he won’t take long?

That’s when it hit you like a truck. You were about to get raped.

He started to put his hands around your breasts, trailing it up to your cheeks. He held your cheeks and stared into your eyes intently. This is when the tears started to come out. You couldn’t say anything since your mouth was duct taped, but you tried to move frantically though it didn’t do anything.

He started to take down his pants and he basically ripped your leggings in half.

Why did this have to happen? You were only being a good person, helping a man, and this is what happens in return.

DURING THE SAME TIME AT HOME

♧

Jacob was starting to get worried and anxious. It’s been over an hour and you wouldn’t answer your phone. He probably called you literally a hundred times but still no answer. He asked your mom to call you to see if you would answer.

It went straight to voicemail.

Jacob started to panic even more. He decided to call your guys’ dad to see if he knows where you were.

The line started to ring. Then he picked up.

“Hey Jake, I was wondering if-” he was cut off by Jacob frantically asking him if he knew where you were.

“Dad! Did Y/N ever call you or anything?” Jacob frantically said to his father.

“ I talked to her about a couple hours ago, is everything alright?

“I-I don’t know dad. She didn’t come home after her jog and I’m getting a really bad twin vibe”

“Shit, okay Jake, I’ll be home as soon as I can.” With that Jacob hung up the phone.

“God Y/N/N, I hope you’re okay” Jacob said with tears on the verge of coming out.

When you woke up, you noticed that the familiar smell around your mouth. The man must have knocked you out. A burning pain was prominent in the lower half of your body. Everything started to come together. With your ripped pants and the bruises all over your body, you pieced everything together.

You were raped.

All of the thoughts in your head, you didn’t even notice that you were not in the van anymore, no, you were at a park.

This park was all too familiar. It was the park you and Jacob loved when you were kids. You got up but fell back down due to the agonizing pain.

The pain was unbearable. Tears threatening to come out of your eyes when you wanted to forget what happened.

But you couldn’t forget.

You laid there on the cold cement floor.

♧

The Barbers were in panic when they couldn’t find you. They had called the cops after being gone for six hours.

The police didn’t find you yet and frankly, they were doing a lousy job at it.

“Fuck it, I’m going to go for a drive and see if I find her” Andy said while stomping towards the front door.

“I’m coming with you.” Jacob said without question.

His baby sister was missing, he couldn’t just stay home and do nothing. Andy shook his head.

“No, Jake you need to stay here with your mother.” Before Jacob could object, a officer wanted to question him maybe knowing where you could be.

Andy drove around the neighborhood first, but no luck. He drove about another couple blocks where he stumbled upon a park. He knew the park. It was you and Jacob’s favorite park.

He slowly drove past the park to see if there was any luck. At this point, Andy almost gave up and went back home until he saw something.

Andy’s eyes widened with fear and joy when he saw you, his baby girl, at the park. But his smile fell when he saw you laying on the ground.

What if you were dead? Andy thought to himself

“ Oh my God, Y/N!!!” Andy basically sprinted towards you.

You could barely get out the words since your throat was sore from crying so much.

“Daddy?!” You said weakly with tears on your cheeks and your eyes bloodshot from the crying.

“Y/N what happened?”

But before you could answer, he saw your ripped pants, bruises on your body and the blood coming out near your legs.

“Oh my God, Y/N please tell me you weren’t raped?” Andy said with sadness but also extreme anger knowing that there was a bastard out there who possibly touched you.

You could barely get out the words but all you said was “ I was d-daddy.”

Andy was furious at this point his worst nightmare came true.

“ Y/N I’m so sorry. If only I stayed on the phone with you a little longer I could have-” You interrupted your father knowing this wasn’t his fault.

“Dad, this was not your fault.”

Andy still looked at you with sad eyes, but despite what happened to you, he was just happy that you were alive.

“Come on baby let's go home” Andy said while carrying you bridal style.

“ I’m so sorry dad. I was just helping this one guy and-and he-”

You started to stumble on your words but your dad stopped you.

“ No no baby you don’t have to say anything now. But know Duffy might ask you some questions so we can catch the guy okay?”

You just nodded at your dads words not wanting to say anything.

♧

On the drive home Andy heard you sniffling he reassured you with comforting words.

“Honey, it’s okay, you’re safe now nobody is going to hurt you now.”

You thought back to when Jacob was calling you. “ You know Jake called me when I was helping that man,” you started. “ If only I answered his call this probably wouldn-”

You were cut off by your father. “Y/F/N do not say that. None of this was your fault it was that son of a bitches fault”

You were taken aback when your dad cussed and then you chuckled softly. “Woah dad, I didn’t know you tolerated that type of language”

Andy just laughed, but before you could say anything else, you noticed you were home.

Jacob and Laurie were outside talking to police officers, but they turned around and saw you in the car.

Jacob eyes widened and was the first to run towards you and give you a hug. When he broke the hug, he looked at you and saw your bruises which made him fume with anger, but he would worry about that later. He was just happy you were home.

“Y/N oh my god are you okay?!” you just nod your head.

You went to give Laurie a hug which lasted short when a voice spoke up.

“ Hi Y/N, I’m detective Duffy, I work with your father and I’m sorry to ask you this but we need to question you while your mind is fresh.”

“Duffy can’t this wait until later we just found her.” Andy said while looking back at his daughter.

“No dad it’s okay I’ll be fine.” Jacob gave you sad eyes of sympathy, but you gave him a reassuring smile.

♧

“So Y/N, tell me from the start of what happened?” Your family was there to support you. You wanted them to be there.

You started from the beginning with the jog, the man dropping the toys, the chloroform, the van, the pain in your lower area, everything.

Laurie just cried into Andy’s shoulders while his fists were clenched white. He was so angry. No, not at you, but at the fact that he couldn’t protect you.

Jacob held your hand the entire time while you told Duffy what happened. He was angry that he didn’t go on the jog with you. He was mad that he couldn’t protect his baby sister.

“Im so sorry this has happened to you Y/N, you should have not gone through that. We will find the man and he will be punished for his crimes.”

You nodded and smiled slightly at Duffy.

♧

After all the cops left, you didn’t know what to do. You were still traumatized.

Your head was resting on Andy’s lap and your legs were on Jacobs. You were dozing off, but you were scared to sleep or eve close your eyes.

Everytime you closed your eyes, you just saw the man. Jacob seemed to notice this because you flinched a little.

He rubbed your leg with reassurance telling you that you’re okay now.

“ Y/N you can finally sleep now. We’re here for you, you don't have to worry about anything.” Jacob said to you

That's when everything broke. You couldn’t handle it anymore tears and sobs were everywhere.

Your family all gave you a hug with love evident in it. This is when you finally knew you were safe.

You then spoke up while drying your tears. “Can we still get KFC?” you said with a smile. Everyone just laughed and that’s when you finally knew you had a loving family and you couldn’t be anymore thankful than that.

♧

A/N :OMGGg I cried writing some of this ahhhh. I might make a part 2 depending if I get any ideas and if this doesn’t flop.

Taglist for ‘You’re Not Alone’;OPEN

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something-fanfiction-ie · 5 years

Text

Rough Drafts

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: Explicit descriptions of a murder scene, argument, angst, and cursing.

A/N: Okay, so I know I said I was gonna publish this yesterday but I got Cassandra Clare’s newest book and I couldn’t put it down. I seriously love that lady. Omg. Anyways, it’s here now! And it’s angsty! And there’s gonna be a fourth part soon I promise! For real. Don’t forget to reblog, comment, send me an ask or a message and overall just adore me so that I may continue to feel good about myself. As always thank you for supporting me and I hope you enjoy!!!

[ Part One | Part Two ]

___

An incredulous laugh bursts from your lips, your nails cutting crescent moons into the palms of your hands as you try and convince yourself that this isn’t actually happening.

“Do you have alibis for your whereabouts on Monday, June eighth, Saturday, June thirteenth, and Thursday, June eighteenth?” Spencer can see your leg bouncing rapidly under the table, your eyes flying over the pictures and the expression of Emily Prentiss. You seem genuine, but he can’t trust himself to get an accurate read of you anymore.

“I, uhm, I- I wouldn’t know off the top of my head. I keep a planner, I’ll forget things otherwise.” The burst of iron in your mouth is not something you’re unused to, having chewed your cheek so badly that the skin there has broken under your teeth.

“We’ll need to see that.” Emily isn’t sure whether or not she believes that you’re guilty, watching the way you seem to unravel before her. When you look at the crime scene photos, it isn't with any pleasure, but with disgust. Your nose wrinkles a little at the bridge and you keep looking away as the blood from your face starts to drain.

Either you’re a really good actress or you aren’t the unsub.

Emily says as much as she flips through the small teal planner that you’d willingly given them. Due dates for chapters, publishing events, book signings and days for book tours fill most of the pages in your most neat handwriting. Dates you plan to go visit your mother, grocery shop, doctor’s appointments, even plans to go somewhere and write.

Everything is explicitly stated, that way you’re never unsure of what you meant to tell yourself. That is, until around three weeks ago when a handful of days are notated with an ‘S,’ followed by a random doodle. Sometimes it’s a tiny heart drawn absentmindedly while you discuss the plans over the phone, other times it’s a cartoon bunny or a top hat.

Garcia is the first to take notice of it, her fingers faltering in their constant thrum against the keyboard in front of her. She glances out of the side of her glasses, raising her eyebrows suggestively.

“Looks like lonely girl found herself a boo.”

“That makes sense,” JJ says from the chair she’s pulled into Penelope’s office from the bullpen. A pen is stretched between her hands, her posture relaxed into the curve of the stiff, government-issued rolly chair.

All the girls have gathered into the tech analyst’s room while the men take turns interrogating you. Well, all except Spencer. He just stands behind that window watching your every move with eyes like a hawk. “What doesn’t make sense is why she keeps it secret even in her personal planner.”

“Maybe she has a stalker? That could be who is doing all this?”

“Then she wouldn’t keep careful notation of everything else going on in her life. A stalker would follow her every move, not just her romantic interests. Even if he is in love with her.”

“A partner, maybe? Like the days they planned the murders or days they were acted out?”

“None of the days line up with the crimes, save for this one,” Emily leans the book toward the two women with her finger just underneath June fifth, the day Alison Crane was abducted from outside her campus dorm room. It’s the third ‘S’ scribbled into the corner of a day in the entire book.

“And there is nothing else written in relation to this ‘S’ character?” JJ shakes her head, looking for any clues that could be nestled among the loops and curls of your writing. Reid would be better at this, he was the graphology expert among them. So why wasn’t he back here helping?

“Then I guess we better try and get her to talk about it. Meanwhile Garcia, we’ll get Rossi and Reid to head over to her apartment and you can hack into her computer?” Penelope spins the chair, a flash of bright colors and blond hair. She clicks her tongue in response, throwing up a fingers gun and winking.

“Whatever you need me to do, I’m on it like sexy on Derek Morgan stepping out of the shower in a towel.”

After some arguing, and maybe just a little bit of pleading, they manage to convince Reid to join Rossi on a trip to your apartment. He can’t help but feel a little uncomfortable, standing in your living room. Not because he’d been here before, but because he’d never been here before.

The empty mugs that litter every surface, smelling of old coffee and your favorite coffee creamer (he only knows it’s your favorite because you explicitly ask for that creamer at every coffee shop the two of you have ever gone to), is unfamiliar to him. He’s invited you to his apartment at least three times. How come he had never been to yours?

Small pages and notebooks of scribbled ideas and dialogues cover just as many areas as the coffee cups do, your handwriting messy and cramped in every note. It’s almost like you couldn’t get the idea out of your head fast enough.

The bed in your room is meticulously made without a wrinkle in sight, but that could be because of the obvious bed you’ve made yourself along the salmon pink couch that stretches out in front of your TV. A multicolored crochet blanket is thrown haphazardly over the back, a pillow still slightly squished against the arm.

On the coffee table is a half opened laptop, a notebook with red and black ink scribbled in the lines, and a still full cup of coffee. Rossi makes quick work of calling Garcia and helping her get patched into your computer. It’s strange, watching her move the mouse on your screen from miles away.

Reid never stops moving, walking the length of your studio apartment with his eyes peeled for any kind of information he could find. It’s obvious that you spend most of your time in the main room, which houses the kitchen, a small dining area, and the living room. A door leading into your room branches off to a small bathroom which is just as disorganized as everything else in your house.

Hair products, skin washes, and all kinds of makeup are scattered across the sink and back of your toilet. It’s funny because every time he’s ever met up with you, you’re bare faced and your hair is still drying from the shower you took before leaving your house. The tube of lipstick he picks up makes him think he doesn’t really know you at all.

On the nightstand in your room is a bottle of water with the label ripped off and the two Rossi books you’d bought that fateful day in the bookstore. The label from the water bottle is stuck between the middle pages of one of the books. The passages in question don’t lend anything to connecting you as a homicidal maniac, let alone a serial killer.

Back in the living room, Garcia is snooping through every aspect of your computer.

“I don’t know whether or not the be freaked out by her web history. There’s a lot of murder-y questions here. ‘Signs of a post mortem amputation,’ ‘How much blood can you lose and still live?,’ ‘Most brutal ways to be killed.’ It’s creepy.” Rossi is flicking through the notebook from the table, his eyes squinted as he tried to make sense of the abbreviations and scribblings of another writer.

“She writes crime novels so it isn’t entirely strange for her to be looking at those types of things.” Thankfully, the defense of your web search history comes from the older man who looks up as Garcia delves deeper and deeper. Spencer had thought it first, but hadn’t said anything to avoid suspicion. He’s smart enough to know that the truth has to come out eventually, but he wants to be sure of your innocence (or guilt, he reminds himself a bit glumly) before he reveals your link to him.

“I’m not seeing anything she could be using to contact a partner unless her partner is one of the publishing people she’s constantly messaging via email.” At this Spencer stops, leaning against the back of the couch with his weight resting on the heels of his hands. The stance appears relaxed. He is anything but.

“Why do we assume she has a partner?” Reid asks, impatiently pushing a stray curl away from his face. Rossi glances at him curiously, otherwise undistracted from the shake the movement gives the couch.

“Oh, Prentiss, JJ, and I were looking through her little teal book earlier and the only thing not explicitly stated was just the letter ‘S.’ It’s why they came back to interrogate and they sent you guys to her house. I thought they told you.”

Spencer wants to beat his head against the wall.

“That isn’t a lead, Garcia. You have to tell them that ‘S’ isn’t her partner.” The mouse on the computer screen falters, several saved documents for different rough drafts of books or drabbles are pulled up the way you might have papers scattered about in front of you.

“What is it? Do you know who ‘S’ is?” Rossi is turned sideways on the couch, looking over the back and up at the distressed man in front of him. It doesn’t take him long to connect the dots when they make eye contact. Penelope impatiently whines over the phone.

“I’m ‘S,’ I’ve been seeing her for the last three weeks. I’m sure if you tell me the dates then every single one of them will be days that we’ve had plans together.”

“I’m sorry, what?!” Before anyone has the chance to say anything else, the door to Garcia’s office opens and a second voice filters through Rossi’s phone speaker. It’s JJ.

“Let Reid and Rossi know there’s just been another murder.”

This time it’s a fifteen year old girl. Her hair is black and wet, her lips are as blue as the sky, and she’s naked. Water droplets from her skin have soaked into the sheet of paper that was layed over her chest. The bathtub she’s in is completely empty, but it doesn’t take a genius to know that she was drowned there. The bruises on her shoulders from the force the unsub used to pin her down are dark against the contrast of her already pale skin.

...The man leaned over the tub, his eyes squinted in thought and his lips skewed a little to the side. Ryder stayed focused on the crime scene, for the most part. But even detectives of her caliber, and higher, could easily get lost in the eyes that look up at her from beneath long golden-brown lashes.

“Detective?” She blinks the distraction away, looking back at the girl, her black hair wet and spiraling like the snakes on Medusa’s head against the ivory siding of the drained tub. Ryder can’t help but wish the girl had been lucky enough to turn her killer to stone. Maybe it would have saved her.

“Agent.” She crosses her arms, looking anywhere but at the man across from her, pretending to look for any useful clues. Ryder had gotten to the crime scene fourty-five minutes before the pair of FBI Agents had walked in. The man, who had introduced himself as Supervisory Special Agent Matthew Gray, had decided to join her in the second floor bathroom. His partner, a woman named Katherine Swift, had taken to looking for clues through the rest of the house.

Agent Gray is beautiful. It’s the only adjective that seems to stick to him with certainty, every other aspect of his personality just as elusive as the exact color of those eyes. Even as short as his hair is, the golden brown tendrils are unkempt and curl every which way. Ryder has to force her hand to stay at her side and not reach up to smooth an alfalfa that does nothing for the serious expression on his face.

She keeps imagining what it would feel like if he reached out to kiss her, curling his fingers into her hair and bringing her unworthy lips up to meet his. He’s tall so she would probably have to stretch a little, but she wouldn’t mind. Not when his hands are tangled in her hair and he’s giving her the kiss she’s been silently begging for since the moment he flashed that crooked grin at her.

The imagination is so vivid that she jumps when her own partner, Detective Russo, comes around the corner of the hallway and straight into the bathroom...

The paper crinkles in the evidence bag as Morgan places it on the table, trying to ignore the daggers being glared into him on the other side of the mirror.

Nobody on the team had been very happy with Spencer when they heard the news about your relationship, Hotch had nearly snatched him by the scruff of his neck when he made to go into the interrogation room. But after several minutes of thoroughly explaining himself, Hotch had sent Morgan in. To say Spencer was infuriated was an understatement.

“Do you know what this is, (Y/N)?” You look down at it, twisting the evidence bag so that you could read the Times New Roman font you always wrote in when writing in Microsoft Word. The words cover the front and back of the copy paper, but you don’t have to read it through all the way before you know what it is.

“It’s a page from my newest book.” The bag scratches against the tabletop as you push it away from you, crossing your arms over your chest. Your face is stoplight red with embarrassment at the thought of Spencer reading this page, mostly because you had pulled so heavily from your own thoughts when first meeting Spencer to write Ryder and Gray’s first meeting. You created Matthew Gray to write about Spencer Reid in a way that felt less ‘high school diary entry.’

“More specifically, it’s from the book you just started working on about a month ago. The one that only you and your agent have access to.” Finally, Morgan sits. Before, he’d just been pacing around you the way a lioness might stalk around her prey before she launches an attack. It made you uneasy, but that was the whole point, wasn’t it?

“Do you know where we found it, (Y/N)?” His muscles bulge against his shirtsleeves when he leans them up on the table. Derek Morgan is a very attractive man, you’ll give him that, but if making you uneasy and putting you in the room with a attractive man to fluster you was their strategy then they should have sent in Spencer.

“My computer.”

“We found it on the body of a dead girl.” Another picture joins the ones already shuffled around the table. You can barely look at it, nausea and tears building in your throat at the sight of another person dying the same way you’d written in a story. When you don’t respond, Morgan continues.

“‘She was found at the bottom of an empty bathtub, a pale leg hooked over the edge of the porcelain siding, and her arms pinned to her sides in death. Bruises discolored the skin at her shoulders, and Ryder knew at first glance that her cause of death would be asphyxiation by drowning.’” He drops the paper back to the table, having picked it up to read the passage from the end of the page.

“That’s wrong,” You say, leaning back over the table to look at the paper again. Derek looks down, like the words might have changed in the moment he looked away, but the text stays exactly the same as before.

“That’s exactly what is written here.” You shake your head, pulling the bag back to you and wrinkling your forehead in thought.

“I don’t doubt that is what you read, Agent Morgan,” Your eyes fly over the page, reading the end of the excerpt with overwhelming relief. The bag sticks a little to the pad of your index finger as you tap over the paragraph in question. “But I rewrote this scene only two nights ago. It’s on my computer, I’m sure your tech analyst can confirm my claim. This girl, Bella, she doesn’t die from drowning anymore. Her hands are tied above her head to the faucet and she’s strangled. I couldn’t decide if I wanted it to be by her sister or her girlfriend.”

JJ rushes back to Penelope’s office, on a mission to confirm your statement just as you had suggested. Meanwhile, Morgan’s mind is rushing to figure out the mess he is currently sat in. You lean back in your chair now, unsure if the dizziness you feel is from lack of food or the sudden realization that they couldn’t pin this to you anymore.

“I’m not your bad guy. If I was doing this to prove to my mother that my writing is good, that I chose the right career, as your profile says, I wouldn’t change the scene in my book and not change the murder.” In Morgan’s earpiece, Hotch tells him that you were telling the truth about editing the scene two nights ago.

“Unless you planned it to throw us off track. We know about your relationship with Spencer, you’ve probably found out all kinds of things to do to keep us from catching you.”

You clench your teeth, straightening into your chair and pinning Derek down with a look you’d learned from your mother. It makes him think of his mom, your eyes narrowed and your gaze so cold that it could cause frostbite. He watches curiosily as you tilt your chin up a little, trying to hide the pricks behind your eyes and the wobble of your lip. Derek notices them, the entire team notices. They’re trained to notice.

“I want a lawyer.” You say simply, you voice is sharp and quiet but it does the job of slicing through the tension already building in the room.

“Come on, you don’t need a lawyer.”

“That’s where you’re wrong again, Agent Morgan. I do need a lawyer. Because even though I have full-heartedly trusted the justice system since I was in diapers, and even though I came to these offices willing to help your team in any way that I could, you are still trying to use me as a scapegoat instead of actually doing your fucking job and finding the bastard who is killing people in my name.

“A study from criminal law bulletin says that 10,000 people are wrongfully convicted of serious crimes every year. One in every twenty-five people sentenced to death are innocent, Agent Morgan. Just since 1973, more than 160 people were exonerated from the death penalty. That’s not even counting the people who were killed. But you sure as hell aren’t about to make me apart of that statistic because you want to waste your time trying to piece an investigation around me. That’s not how you’re supposed to do your job. So until you can remember how to do it correctly, I do need a lawyer. Thank you.”

By the time you finish you’ve leaned over the table, your index finger jammed into the wood to make your point. It feels like your chest is on fire as you slam back into your seat and cross your arms, determined to keep your silence for the rest of the time you were forced to sit here.

Everyone on the opposite side of the mirror is stunned into silence, their eyes focused on you even as Derek gathers all the things from the desk and walks out looking a little flustered himself. If Spencer was totally honest, your outburst was actually kind of hot. He has to remind himself that you may have killed eight people in cold blood.

Your lawyer makes it to the BAU in record time, his red hair expertly gelled back from his face. His icy blue eyes only cracking when he sees you sitting by yourself in the interrogation room. Spencer can tell by the way that he lowers himself on the balls of his feet to talk to you, reaching out to touch the hand that sits on your thigh, that he knows you personally. He likes you, actually. Spencer tried to tell himself that it doesn’t make him glad when you pull your hand out of his and awkwardly pat his arm.

He’s been lying to himself a lot today.

Hotch is the one to go back in the room, he was the best at dealing with lawyers. Unfortunately his best wasn’t enough to keep you in custody and soon your lawyer, who Spencer learned was named Jeremy, was walking you out of the room for the first time in six hours.

Your back cracks when you stand, your shoulders rolling back to try and ease some of the stress you’d been holding there since this morning. The sound of the door swinging open for you is almost heavenly, the feel of the air outside of the room is damn near enough to make you cry.

When you look to the side, ready to leave out the second door that leads into the hallway and away from this mess, you meet eyes with the only profiler of the BAU that you hadn’t seen that day. Spencer looks back at you with an expression that you find hard to put into words.

He almost looks sorry, the regret evident in the slight widening of his eyes, but at the same time his chin is tilted up like he is facing an enemy he has vowed to take down no matter the cost. His shoulders are squared, but his arms are uncrossed and his palms are open.

And even though you knew you wouldn’t be there without him knowing, the reassurance that Spencer knew and even suspected you is like a blow to the chest and stomach. It robs you of air, causing you to stumble.

Jeremy reaches to steady you. You shake him off, pulling your eyes from the young doctor and focusing all of your attention on the door knob.

“I’m fine, Jeremy.” Your tone of voice is more harsh than you intended but you’re still struggling to collect oxygen, even when you slide into your car by yourself, it feels like you can’t get enough air. The walk from the BAU offices to the parking lot had passed in a blur. Jeremy’s talk about staying at home and keeping your head low had gone by even faster, and now that you have time to truly be by yourself, everything hits like a ton of bricks thrown at you from a speeding train.

In the midst of your panic attack, gasping for air into the palms of your shaking hands, questioning everything about yourself and your career, you don’t register the shuffle of movement in your backseat. You’re so deep in your mind that you almost don’t notice the cool press of a gun barrel against the back of your neck until a familiar voice lifts your head from your hands.

“Drive.”

#spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid angst #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid imagines #dr spence reid #spence reid #criminal mind imagine #criminal minds

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artificialqueens · 3 years

Text

Galactica, Chapter 72 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Previously: Miss Fame and Raja appeared on morning TV, and Miss Fame was visibly irritated with Courtney.

This Chapter: Violet stresses, Sutan orders some dinner, Katya chills, Raven preens, and Courtney’s Day From Hell continues.

***

“Courtney!” Miss Fame’s voice was sharp, sharper than usual. “Do you ever use your head? Or do you just go through life without a shred of critical thinking?”

It was fairly obvious that it was a rhetorical question, so Courtney kept her mouth shut, wondering what had gone wrong, what mess she’d have to clean up now.

“Hello?!?!”

“I’m sorry, Miss, I-” Courtney picked up her bags, prepared to head into the building. She looked at the cab driver, wondering if she should attempt to get a receipt for her expense report or just say fuck it. Jaida was pretty forgiving with petty cash records if the ride was less than fifty dollars.

“Do you know what happened when I got dressed for the investor lunch, Courtney? Thank god Raja was here, she’s the one who spotted it!”

Courtney pushed the door to the cab closed with her hip, trying to follow Miss Fame’s thought process, her heavy purse slung over one shoulder and laptop bag over the other.

“Spotted…?”

“A rip! There was a rip in the seam of the dress! Is that how you wanted me to show up? Looking like an absolute disaster?!”

“I-” Courtney scrambled into the lobby as quickly as she could to avoid the drizzling rain, glancing for a moment at the elevators before deciding that getting cut off wasn’t worth the risk. She opened the door to the stairwell and began trudging up, cursing the heels she’d chosen today and wondering if it would be too awful and unsanitary to just take them off and go barefoot.

“Next time you pick something up, you need to use your brain and your eyes and check the garment! Always check everything! Don’t trust anyone, do you hear me?!”

“Yes, Miss.”

“These kinds of careless mistakes are unacceptable. You’re not new anymore, you’ve been here for months. Violet isn’t around to protect you, you have to think, think!”

“Yes, Miss-”

“Luckily for you, I had my outfit from the show this morning, so it wasn’t an absolute disaster but if this ever happens again, I won’t be forgiving.”

“I understand, Miss.”

“This meeting better go flawlessly. I simply cannot take more incompetence today!”

“Yes, Miss-”

“That’s all.”

And with that, the phone clicked off. Courtney sighed, sagging against the banister before continuing on her way. Luckily, she hadn’t climbed too many flights, so she could still catch the elevator before she turned entirely into a sweaty, disheveled mess.

***

Violet heard her phone vibrate, and she looked down on the floor, her bag carefully placed under her desk. She abandoned her computer, several tabs with pictures from past Met balls open, and reached for her phone, messages from Sutan ticking in.

SUTAN: Any thoughts on dinner?

SUTAN: I could go for italian

SUTAN: I know a place that has a great fettuccine al salmone that I think you’ll like

Violet read the messages, a smile on her lips. Sutan was probably stuck in traffic or watching a presentation somewhere, her boyfriend often texting her like this when he was bored.

VIOLET: That sounds good

SUTAN: Great! I’ll order. Bottle of red too.

SUTAN: Feeling like dessert? Raja texted that she’s picking up Dominique Ansel for her and Raven and I’m jealous. The Italian place has a fantastic torta tenerina

SUTAN: It’s a chocolate cake if you haven’t had it

SUTAN: It’ll be just like our second date ;-)

Violet felt an instant blush rise in her cheeks, the memory of falling off the couch hitting her like a freight train. Sutan had been so kind about it, the man just laughing when Violet had messed everything up. She knew she was insanely lucky that Sutan was so calm and collected, that he rolled with the punches and took most things with a grain of salt, but she couldn’t help but worry if he was too relaxed.

Violet had meant to push it aside, to stop thinking about it, but Maxwell’s words from yesterday were still playing around in her head, the small comment about her sex life with Sutan starting an avalanche of worries.

Because Maxwell was wrong.

Violet did not, in fact, suck Sutan’s dick. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to, wasn’t that she found it gross or unappealing, it had just never… happened.

She didn’t know how she’d bring it up, what she’d say or what she’d do, but she knew that she wanted to talk to Sutan about it, and make sure that everything was okay.

VIOLET: Can’t wait

***

“Hey, Court, how are you?” Jaida asked, entering the conference room, holding up a flash drive with their investor presentation.

“Jaida! Oh thank god, is that the final?” Courtney asked, shifting from one foot to the other. She stood next to Shawn from IT, who was crouched over the projector.

“It is, it is...at least until Miss Fame texts me with another round of helpful suggestions,” Jaida said with a grin, and Courtney closed her eyes briefly.

“Don’t even joke about that,” she warned.

Jaida handed over the flash drive, giving her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. Poor thing looked very much on the edge, her little face screwed up anxiously, a crease in her brow where no one her age should have one.

“It’ll be okay, I promise. And I’m gonna stay here with you until it looks perfect.”

“Thank you,” Courtney said, her face softening into a grateful smile. “I know how to handle all the refreshments and stuff, but we don’t usually do these kind of multimedia things. I’m so worried that I’m gonna mess it up.”

“You won’t. And anyway, I’ll be right here. I can always tell you to go back a slide.”

“Right...yeah, that’s true.”

“How’s that look?” Shawn asked, and Jaida gave him a thumbs-up.

“Perfecto. Thank you, sir.”

“Alright, great. Court, you need anything else? ‘Cause apparently marketing is having some kind of emergency with their calendars not synching.”

“No, I think I got it,” Courtney said, sounding not at all confident.

“We got it,” Jaida said, sitting down beside her to look at the laptop that controlled the screen. “Why don’t I give you a basic rundown of what I’m gonna say, and then we can even do some rehearsing.”

“Sure!” Courtney said, smiling brightly.

Jaida took her through the whole presentation, then stood up to do a run-through, making sure they worked out a signal for when she was moving to the next slide, and double-checking the investor packets to make sure all the references to page numbers were accurate.

“Alright...I think we’re good. Do you feel better?”

“Yeah, definitely,” Courtney said, standing and walking towards the refreshment table, lining all the drinks up in neat pyramids. “You can take a break, I’m sorry to have kept you so long.”

“It’s no problem,” Jaida said. “But I could use a little breather before they arrive. I’ll be back in 30.”

“Okay. Um, also…”

Jaida turned in the doorway. “Yes?”

“Well...it’s just...um, some people were talking about their bonuses, and my last paycheck was just my regular salary. So I just wasn’t sure how that all worked.”

“Oh.” Jaida sighed to herself. Of course Miss Fame hadn’t filled her in. Dammit. “Well, usually we only give end of year bonuses to people who’ve worked for the company for six months or longer.”

“Oh. Right. Okay, sorry.” Courtney said, looking disappointed but not surprised, and Jaida felt awful.

Courtney’s salary was a pittance--barely enough to be off the street in New York. Jaida knew that, and she knew how much of a difference even a few hundred dollars would have made to her. But Miss Fame had insisted that the rules were there for a reason, and it would be a bad precedent to set to overrule them for her own office. It was pure nonsense--all employee bonuses were at the discretion of the department heads and always had been.

Clearly, Miss Fame had simply not wanted to reward her for whatever reason. At the time, Jaida didn’t think it was worth the headache to push back, but looking at her sad little face, Jaida couldn’t help feeling like maybe she should have.

“But hey,” Jaida said, giving a rueful smile, “It gives you someone to look forward to next year, right?”

“Yeah.” Courtney returned her smile, trying her best to recover. “Sorry to bother you about it.”

“It’s no bother. I’m sorry I didn’t have a better answer for you,” Jaida told her, guilt still eating away at her. “I’ll see you at 3, okay?”

“Okay. Thanks, Jaida.”

***

“And there we go!” Raven looked up from her phone, Juju standing behind her, a big smile on her face. “What do we think?”

Juju held up a mirror, showing Raven the back of her head. She had gotten a keratin treatment, her thick black locks cascading down her back like a silky waterfall, the ends cut ramrod straight, her December touchups going exactly according to plan.

“It looks great,” Raven smiled, running her fingers through her hair, the strands beyond soft to the touch. She always got her hair done by Juju, Raven’s salon visits an excellent opportunity to chat with her best friend without kids around. “Good job.”

“Thanks,” Juju smiled. “I’ll have someone over shortly to fill up your lashes. Can I get you anything?”

“A Pellegrino please.” Raven held up her glass, Juju leaving her to stay in her chair. She didn’t really want the water, a caramel macchiato or a hot cocoa much more weather appropriate, but she had already had her first fitting for Galactica’s closing look, which meant she had to stay true to that size.

Raven looked at herself in her mirror, turning her head side to side, her brows already threaded and perfect. She hadn’t told Sutan, or even Raja, but she had started to get the tiniest botox injections, her day starting off with a visit to the doctor. It was just 5 units here, another 10 there, to make sure her glabellar lines didn’t show up and that her nasalis lines stayed on the side of cute, instead of wrinkly and gross.

Raven pulled some of her hair over her shoulder, twisting her waist to catch the best lighting as she held up her phone, snapping a pic for her Instagram, a grin spreading on her lips at how hot she looked.

***

Courtney flexed her fingers and toes, trying to keep them from going numb. Her brain already felt like mush. They were going into hour three of the investor meeting. At first, she’d found it incredibly interesting, how the new fund they were raising would help with their 2015 growth, allowing them to expand into several Asian markets and open up a whole new stream of revenue. She’d taken a few business classes in college, and while math was never her strong suit, the financial charts and projections were fascinating.

However, after several hours of this, coupled with the fact that she’d been working since 6 am, and the fact that nearly everyone else in the entire company had already left to start their winter vacations, Courtney was slowly losing her interest in, not just the meeting, but the fashion industry period.

She glanced out the window. A flurry of snow was swirling past the window--it would probably melt before it reached the ground, but it made her long to be tucked under a blanket with Bianca. She picked up her personal phone to discreetly check the messages.

BIANCA: Still getting out early?

COURTNEY: We’ll see. :’(

BIANCA: LOL, poor baby. I’m heading home now, tell me when you’re done there.

COURTNEY: I will. Can’t wait to see you...counting the seconds...<3

Courtney sighed softly to herself. The drone of voices was starting to sound surreal to her, like she was under water. She checked the time again, wishing that they would wrap things up. By the sound of it, though, no one was in any hurry to leave. Maybe I’ll die here…

“Courtney!” Miss Fame’s sharp voice cut through her thoughts and she stood up straight, back against the wall.

“Yes Miss?”

The fury in Miss Fame’s eyes told her that she’d missed a cue, and she racked her brain for what it could have been. They were done with the presentation, and she’d laid all the refreshments out, as well as clearing the empty plates and replacing them with clean ones twice already.

Miss Fame glared at her harder, eyes darting to the box near her feet, and she jumped, realizing her mistake. Miss Fame wanted her to hand out the glossy photo books of the history of Galactica that were on standby, just in case. She reached down and pulled a big stack out of the box, then quickly began handing them out.

“If you’ll open your books,” Fame said, going back to the meeting with a charming smile, “You’ll see some photos of our humble beginnings at New York Fashion week, 2002.”

I will definitely die here, Courtney thought, trudging back towards her spot against the wall.

***

Winter break was here, and Katya absolutely loved it. She had slept in, enjoying a slow morning making pancakes in her pajamas, listening to Christmas music and dancing around, since she was completely alone.

Well, not completely, at least not anymore. She couldn’t feel the baby yet, and probably wouldn’t for a few more weeks, the app Trixie had downloaded informing her that she should be able to sense movement from week 20.

Katya took a sip of her hot cocoa, a Hallmark Christmas movie playing on the TV. She had cleaned up the apartment, making sure to get all of the laundry out of the way so everything was nice and tidy for the upcoming vacation.

She picked Pearl’s bomber jacket back up, the scent of her cigarettes clinging to the fabric. She had noticed that there was a tear while checking it, Pearl often forgetting the most random things in her pockets, so she had taken it upon herself to sew it back together.

She knew she didn't need to, but she liked doing things for her friend, the small project perfect for a relaxing day with nothing important on the agenda.

***

“Raja!” Raven couldn’t keep in the shout of happiness as she finally finally heard the front door open and click shut. She rushed to the hallway, making sure not to trip over her dress in her heels. “You’re home!”

“Hey Princess,” Raja smiled, taking off her coat, specks of snow in her long hair, revealing one of her office suits underneath. “You look perfect.”

“Mmh?” Raven grinned, her fiancée’s eyes sweeping over her body, appreciating the brand new outfit she had put on. “You think?”

“I know,” Raja hung her jacket up, and Raven stepped up, wrapping herself in Raja’s arms, a moment of complete peace washing over her.

Raja was home for the holidays, almost two wonderful weeks ahead of them with no work, minimal obligations and parties except New Year’s, all followed by their annual trip to Aspen.

It was Raven’s favorite time of year, for the simple reason that she had Raja’s undivided attention, and that was why she had picked New Year’s Eve as their wedding date. It was a little stressful that she only had about a year left to plan, but she knew that the night would be perfect, no matter what.

“Did you remember dessert?” Raven looked up at Raja, the fact that she was still taller than her even in heels insanely hot.

“Of course I remembered dessert,” Raja grinned, the Dominique Ansel box on the little hallway table, “I got your favorites.”

“I love you,” Raven smiled, getting up on her toes to plant a kiss on Raja’s lips.

“Are you talking to me or the pastries?”

“You,” Raven rolled her eyes, Raja as always teasing her, “...and the pastries.”

***

“So, what are we in the mood for?” Sutan asked. He sat down on the couch, placing the chocolate cake and the two forks on the table before grabbing the remote to turn the TV on. “A Christmas movie?”

He waited for a beat, and then another, no reply coming.

It was normal for Violet to be on the quiet side, common for her to come home from work and need time to unwind and reset before she could be present, his girlfriend not saying much during dinner.

What wasn’t normal was for Violet to ignore him outright, and Sutan couldn’t help but feel worried.

“Violet?” He sat up, looking over at her. She was tapping her fingers against her leg, looking straight ahead, her lip between her teeth. “Is everything okay?”

“Does it bother you that I don’t suck dick?”

“What?” Sutan spluttered, nearly choking on air, the question taking him by complete surprise.

“Does it bother you?” Violet twisted her body, her knees knocking against his as she turned towards him.

“Why are you asking?” Sutan knew it wasn’t what he should focus on, but he hadn’t expected Violet to ask that, hadn’t figured that a sex thing was what had twisted her into a knot, though the direct and blunt approach was exactly her.

“Answer my question.”

“I’m very satisfied with our sex life.” Sutan turned the TV off, commercials in the background not what he needed at the moment. “So no. It doesn’t bother me.” He was being completely sincere, the lack of Violet performing oral not something he had thought about except in brief fantasies here and there.

But it was just that, a fantasy.

A tantalizing and sexy fantasy for sure, but when it came down to it, not getting blow jobs was a miniscule price to pay in exchange for Violet, Sutan much more concerned with making sure that his girlfriend was having a good time, and that she was into what they did in bed.

“I simply assumed you wouldn’t enjoy it.”

“Okay.” Violet bit her lip, and Sutan moved closer, putting his arm on the back of the couch.

“Why are you asking? Is everything okay?”

“Maxwell made a comment at work.” Violet pushed a strand of her hair behind her ear, looking at Sutan’s chest instead of his face.

“And?” Sutan reached out, gently putting his hand on her shoulder.

“I just figured, I never really…” Violet sighed, tugging at the edge of her skirt, Sutan rubbing his thumb up and down. “Offered, and I hadn’t considered…”

“Violet. Good sex, is sex that makes everyone feel good, and I like, no, I love, making you feel good.” Sutan smirked, watching the prettiest blush bloom on Violet’s cheeks, but this time, she didn’t shy away, didn’t look down, instead, she met his gaze straight on, their eyes locking together.

“I want that too. To make you feel good.”

“Is this your way of offering?” Sutan raised an eyebrow, “To experiment with blow jobs I mean.”

“Yes,” Violet nodded. “I think I could enjoy it with you.”

“If you want it,” Sutan smiled. “I want it.”

***

As Courtney helped Miss Fame into her coat, she could feel her will to live come surging back, the end of the day so close now that she could taste it. She’d already brought the many gifts from Miss Fame’s friends and associates downstairs to her car and in a remarkable display of generosity, Miss Fame had even handed Courtney one of the bottles of Veuve to take home herself.

“Merry Christmas, Miss!” Courtney exclaimed happily as she settled back down at her desk to take care of her last few tasks of the year.

“Yes. Make sure that those sketches get to Trixie before you leave. Goodnight.”

“Sure thing!” Courtney called after her, waving as she rounded the corner. The sketches. She knew she had the sketches earlier. Where were they?

She searched the mostly empty surface of her desk, stomach lurching when she realized what must have happened. The cab. She left them in the cab. Her sunny smile dissolved, color draining from Courtney’s face as she realized how absolutely fucked she was.

Miss Fame almost never did her own sketches any more. These were rare and precious; Courtney recalled how angry she’d been earlier in the day at simply the thought of a crease in the pages.

How could Courtney have been so utterly careless?

Original sketches from Miss Fame of Galactica floating around a random NYC taxi was a nightmare. She wracked her brain, trying to remember the cab company, and found her head absolutely empty of any details, devoid of anything that could help.

And of course, she didn’t have a receipt, because she’d been in such a rush to get upstairs, which meant no evidence, nothing to go off of.

She frantically searched for the numbers of any local cab companies and began the tedious task of calling them to track down the priceless unmarked envelope.

Nearly two hours later, throat hoarse from crying, she had to finally admit defeat.

Nobody had seen the envelope, and the chance of her getting a call back with good news was looking slimmer and slimmer as the dispatches closed for the day. She picked up her phone, knowing that she’d be seeing a whole bunch of increasingly concerned messages from Bianca.

There was no way she could face her tonight. Not after she’d fucked up so immensely, done something that was sure to make her boss more furious than she’d ever seen her. There was a small chance that Bianca herself wouldn’t be mad, that she might even be sympathetic--but Courtney knew that she absolutely didn’t deserve that.

Just to be certain, she waited until she was on the subway before responding to her messages, texting a simple ‘I can’t make it’ and then adding ‘I’m so sorry’ before shoving the phone back in her bag and riding the rest of the way to the Bronx with her head in her hands, cursing herself over and over.

#rpdr fanfiction #thedane #veronica #galactica #vitan #bitney #raja x raven #courtney act #miss fame #violet chachki #raja gemini #jaida essence hall #raven #jujubee #bianca del rio #katya zamolodchikova #lesbian au #m/f au #fashion au

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bittywitches · 4 years

Note

Francis forever or me and my husband both by mitski (whichever you like better 😊) with gray

Forgive me for how bad this is, I tried to do it with Francis Forever, it’s not good, I got tired lol

The loud beeping of your alarm clock rings in your skull, making you groan from underneath your covers. You finally throw them over your head, unable to handle the infuriating noise any longer, wincing at the sound of your laptop falling onto the floor from your movement.

“Shit.” You groan, leaning over your bed to shut your phone up, your eyes still scrunched together as you blindly grope around, bending down as far as you can to reach your laptop with the tips of your fingers. eventually giving up, you grip the bed frame and push yourself back up, leaning back against your headboard as you sigh out, trying to rub the sheer exhaustion out of your eyes. You’re eventually able to pry your eyelids open, only to groan once again to see the array of papers, bowls, and crumbs littering your blanket covers.

“Fuuuuck.” You breathe out, slicking your hair up and out of your face, then stretching your arms up and over your head. There was a part of you had that somehow assumed that the mess would just disappear overnight as you slept.

Ha. If only.

“Mkay.” You mumble to yourself, carefully climbing out of your bed. You gather all of your junk and dump it onto your work desk, then quickly make your bed before walking over to your laptop. You see that while trying to harass your phone alarm, you’d pushed a photo frame off of your night table.

You crouch down to pick it up, turning it over in your hands to see it’s the old frame Grayson had given you for your birthday last summer. It seems like, through the hellish week you’d had, you’d forgotten to get rid of it.

“Of course I’d do that.” You grumble, standing up and dusting off the crumbs from your bed that had littered the glass.

It’s simple photo. You were so used to only taking pictures when there were important events, or in other words, something worth being remembered. But this was taken one random weekend, you sitting on Grayson’s couch rereading pride and prejudice for what felt like the fifth time. In it you’re in a fluffy white wool sweater, a cup of tea in your other hand, the sun setting behind you could be seen in the back window, leaving a soft warm glow on the furniture, your hair, and your face. Unlike all the other photos you have hung up in your cozy little apartment, this was the only one that was just a photo of you alone. You are the eye-catcher, the main character, if you will. When Grayson had first shown you the picture, it made you feel something you hadn’t really experienced before. It tightened your chest in a different way, made your fingertips tingle when they touched the simple wood frame.

It made you feel important. And now, all that does is make you mad.

You’d sort of just reasoned that there wasn’t any need to get rid of it. It was a photo of you, what did that have to do with him? But of course, you know better than that. It has everything to do with him. It has to do with the person you were when you were with him. You would never want to admit it, but you love that person. You loved your confidence, your thrill, your ease, your.. everything. It m makes you want to scream because of how put together you felt just when you had him in your eyesight. But most of all, it scares you. It scares you to think that, maybe the reason you were doing so well was because of him. And now...

you look up and away from the frame at your room, with clothes strewn across the floor, papers stacked in every corner, food wrappers overflowing from your trash can.

Now you’re this.

You shake your head, tossing the frame onto your bed before crouching down to pick up your laptop.

“Fuck, noo!” You moan, now seeing that the screen of your laptop was basically hanging off the keyboard half by one hinge, the other once cracked and almost ripped apart. “Come on.”

You tilt your head up at the ceiling, wanting to curse someone for your terrible string of bad luck. You stand, looking at the damage of your laptop. You really have options; one, you could search up a youtube video and figure out how to fix it yourself. It’d save you the money, but then you’d probably have to go find tools, and if you couldn’t rummage through your stuff to find them you’d probably have to go buy some anyways....

An hour later you’re driving up to the plaza, having the unit number of the tech repair shop already searched up on your phone.

You sigh, pulling into the lot across from the plaza and putting your car into park, then stepping out of the driver’s seat. You hadn’t planned on coming out today, but your cozy home clothes seemingly fit the November chill. You throw your hoodie up over your head, locking your door behind you, though before you can take another step there’s a voice calling out at you.

“Heyy, Y/N!” You look up, and a pit immediately fall in your chest. It’s Fletcher Greene, aka ‘the Hollywood Fix guy’.

“You have got to be kidding m- heyy dude!” You immediately shed you’re agonizing look for a preppy smile, turning away from him immediately as you head for the sidewalk.

“Hey wait up wait up, haven’t seen you in a while, huh? What’ve you been up to?”

“Oh, not much. You know I’ve actually got some errands to run-”

“Oh yea I can tell, love your outfit by the way.”

There’s nothing more you wanted to do but curse him to hell, but you smiled at him all the same. “Thanks, you look great too.”

“How’s the boyfriend doing?”

You were so sure at that point that you had broken character, finally letting the wince show. The pain hiding behind that toothy grin starting to leak through. But you pushed on, nonetheless.

“Oh you know, he’s... he’s great.” No matter how hurt you were, you weren’t going to go behind Grayson’s back. You’d both made a deal, and you weren’t going to make an announcement that would get out because of some middle aged guy with a camera just because you were in a sour mood.

“I’m really sorry, I really gotta go, but great seeing you! Have a good day!”

And with that you jogged away from him, crossing the street as fast you could before anybody else could notice you. You didn’t need anybody else seeing how you were doing, and frankly you weren’t in the mood to keep lying about it. Things weren’t going to be okay for a while, and there wasn’t anything you could do about it.

#this was a lot shorter #does it even count as like... a blurb??? Gray wasn't even in it lmao mb I'm tired #anyways #grayson dolan #grayson dolan fanfiction #Grayson dolan fanfic #Grayson dolan headcanon #Grayson dolan imagine #Grayson dolan concept #Grayson dolan blurb #dolan twins #Grayson dolan x reader #dolan twins concept

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darlinvandijk · 4 years

Text

Smile Please

Concept: Might not be too like put together since I had so many ideas coming to my mind for this. Not a request but someone said imagine being in quarantine and not being able to see Ruel and missing him, then like having him sing to you so you can fall asleep. Well I decided to do that but also put a complete darlin twist on it.(She’s also in the industry too btw) Can you tell what this is the prequel to? I hope you enjoy :)

A sigh escapes my lips as I stare at my laptop screen, Netflix asking if I’m still watching for the 15th time today, like I’d be doing anything else. Every single day is a blur of Netflix, naps, FaceTime calls, and YouTube binging. Oh, and absolutely no human contact.

I roll over on to my stomach as I hear my phone buzz, praying that it’s someone trying to talk to me, rather than getting another meaningless social media notif. My heart skips a beat as I see my boyfriend texting me, nothing but excitement filling me as I see the word FaceTime. Only to be filled with dread as I think about how I look, having put in absolutely zero effort the last few days, because I mean who’s going to see me?

I toss my phone on to my bed, telling Ruel to give me a few minutes, before launching myself into my closet. I rip off my stained sweats and hoodie, before realizing I haven’t done any laundry in a week. I rip a pair of shorts out of the pile on my floor throwing them on, before grabbing my secret hoodie that I always keep hidden. The hoodie that Ruel has no clue about, because if he did, well he’d lose his mind. Desperate times call for desperate measures though.

“Hi baby, you’re looking beautiful as always” Ruel sweetly says, instantly answering my call as I lay back down on my bed, still keeping my body out of sight from him. Upon hearing his sweet words, I bring my hand up to cover my face, not wanting him to see the red hue taking over. He laughs at my actions before freezing, staring at me with a look I can’t quite figure out, the smile from his face completely gone. “Babe, what are you wearing right now?” he practically shrieks at me, his eyes now glaring at me with complete betrayal filling them. Betrayal that could have been avoided if I just answered shirtless.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Rueloff, anyways, how’s your day going?” I question, my eyes looking anywhere but him. My question is met with silence, a haunting silence that causes chills to run down my spine. “That’s great to hear, you’ve had a fun day huh, well let me tell you about my day, so I took 5 naps today, I know right less than usual, I also watche-“ I immediately blurt out, seeing Ruel try to open his mouth to talk, his eyes now drilling holes into the visible hoodie.

“You told me you hadn’t seen that sweater since the Paris show! You stole my sweater and didn’t tell me for 7 months?” He cries out, waving his hands around the air in distress, thinking about the all the lies I spewed about his favorite hoodie. “You told me it must’ve been misplaced when we left the venue, because and I quote, you had seen it on the couch. You’re a thief. My own girlfriend is a snake” he whines, shoving his face into a pillow, grumbling more things about how I can never be trusted again.

“I asked you to let me wear it and you always told me no, I did what I needed to do. You know this is my favorite one” I mumble, playing with the sleeves that go past my hands. He gives me an incredulous look, wondering how I’m able to turn this against him so fast, not knowing I’ve been preparing for this since the day I shoved it into my underwear section of my bag. “I can give it back if you want, I just like it because it smells the most like you.” I whisper, looking into his eyes finally with a pout, knowing it’ll win him over. As soon as the pout forms, his eyes are instantly drawn to my lips, his eyes softening at the gesture.

“You’re such an asshole, trying to guilt me for wanting my favorite hoodie back, but fine. Keep it, I guess you look better in it than I ever did pretty girl” he groans, unable to keep the smile off of his face as he sees my body drowning in his hoodie. I lean against my headboard laughing, my phone set up on my night stand, completely oblivious to the beautiful boy watching me. Ruel sits there in awe, eyes wandering over every inch of me, his expression softening by the second. “You truly are stunning though sweetheart, so fucking stunning” he breathes out, gaze unwavering when I look at him, my heart stuttering as I take in the look he’s giving me.

“I miss you” I tell him, as I lay down and pull a blanket over my body, the heartache of not being able to see each other fully kicking in. He lets out a deep breath, feeling useless as he watches me wipe my eyes, knowing there’s nothing he can do to fix this. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to kill the mood. It’s just been hard without you lately, but I know we have to stay home for a good reason, it just sucks” I whimper, my voice cracking as I try to keep my tears at bay, feeling more emotion than usual because of how late it is.

“It’s okay, don’t apologize love. You didn’t say anything wrong, this social distancing thing does suck, but before we know it you’ll be back in my arms again yeah?” He questions, trying to lighten the mood, only ending up with a frown as he watches the tears finally fall down my face. He gives me a few moments to gather myself, watching as I grab some tissues, my ragged breathing the only sound filling the air. “Don’t cry bubba, please don’t cry. I miss you more than anything, you know that. You also know that it breaks my heart to see you cry, think you can give me a little smile please? Might die if you don’t ” He dramatically whines out, covering his face with his hands, putting on the biggest show possible. I don’t see it, but as soon as I laugh at my boyfriends dramtic performance, a smile spreads across his lips, pride filling him as he gets me to cheer up a little.

He lays down in the same position as me, both of us facing our phones as we look at one another, a comfortable silence settling over us. My eyes wander over his messy grown out hair, looking at his mustache that he takes so much pride in, and looking at the necklace hanging out of his hoodie. The necklace that holds the plain band version of my promise ring that he got me, saying that it was unfair if I was the only one that got to have “major drip”. As my eyes wander, I subconsciously start playing with the drawstring of my hoodie, not noticing the way his eyes instantly get drawn to my promise ring, love filling his heart as he watches the small diamond in the middle sparkle in the light.

“I can’t wait till I can change that ring to a real one” he muses, picturing the day he’ll get to switch out my ring with the one he already knows he’s going to get when the times right. My eyes widen at his confession, my heart speeding up as I hear the seriousness in his voice. “Even if it means having to wait until I can finally catch a break from all of this” he mumbles, getting caught up in his head, thinking about how nonstop his life seems to be, wondering if he’ll actually ever have the freedom to settle down. Or if it’ll make me runaway before he can even get the chance.

“One day bub, one day. I promise.” I smile at him, knowing my reassurance about what our future holds puts him at ease, his biggest fear that I’ll leave from not being able to handle what comes with being together. “I know you get worried that your career and you being gone a lot will make me not want this anymore, but I promise that won’t happen. No empty love or empty promises here, I’m not that shallow bub. Your career is important to you and me, I’ll never let it get in the way of us” I tell him, watching as he nods his head with a small frown. He starts to fiddle with the ring, sliding it around the chain before looking up at me with a curious look.

“Do you ever get worried? That this will become too much and the nonstop lifestyle of it will just do more harm than good. I can’t think of my future without you in it, but this is a lot to deal with” he questions, concern flashing through his eyes, my gaze catching on to the slight shake of anxiety in his hands. “Once this pandemic is up I’m gone again, more shows and interviews. I just don’t want it to hurt us, because you’re my priority. That’ll never change. I just don’t want you faking that it’s okay, when I know it bothers you” he rants, running a hand through his already messy locks, the stress of the future already taking over his mind.

“I promise we’ll be okay. Your career will never be too much for me, if you can put up with mine and my random traveling for shows and interviews, then I’ll support you and your career.” I reason with him, watching him nod his head, still not fully convinced with my answer. I softly call his name, making him look me in the eyes, seeing the absolutely confident look I give him. “You’re always going to be a priority, your career and mine can’t change that. I’ll never fake anything or tell you something that isn’t true” I state, watching his shoulders sag in relief, my words finally easing the anxiety he’s feeling. He takes a few moments to think before giving me a final nod, deciding that I convinced him enough that his career won’t scare me away.

“I know, I know. I just get worried, we’re both in an industry where everything is just so fake, you can’t ignore the fabrication.” he quietly says, both of us thinking about the things that truly happen behind the scenes, the things the fans don’t know about. “You’re right though, we’ll be fine. I love you and you love me, that’s all the matters. It’s all we need to make this work” he confirms, giving me a boyish grin. I let out a laugh at his smile, before a yawn takes over, making my eyes water as the fatigue of being up so late finally kicks in.

“I’m getting bubba, but I don’t want to hang up” I whine, as I cuddle further into his hoodie, pulling the blanket up to my chin. I watch him with droopy eyes, trying my hardest to stay awake with him, knowing he wouldn’t be going to bed anytime soon. “Can sing for me? I miss hearing you” I mumble, my words incoherently forming a thought that he understands, a quiet laugh escaping his mouth as he hears it.

“Go to sleep baby, I won’t hang up.” he promises, watching as I get more comfortable. Once I stop shifting around, he gets comfortable, and decides to sing the one song he knows always helps me sleep. “I will always love you how I do, Let go of a prayer for you, Just a sweet word, The table is prepared for you” he softly sings out, his voice over the speaker filling my room, slowly lulling me to sleep, my mind filled with nothing but thoughts of love and adoration for him.

I’m already asleep by the time he finishes, not seeing the way he watches me with a small smile, not being able to hear the last few thijge he utters before letting himself also drift off to sleep. Not knowing the weight his words would truly hold in the future.

“I love you sweetheart, nothing will ever get between us, I promise. Our love is deep enough, we can handle it.”

#one ruel #ruel #ruel van dijk #ruelvincentvandijk #ruel imagine #ruel imagines #ruel fanfic #free time ep #imagines #one shot #imagine #x reader #ruel one shot

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jawritter · 5 years

Text

Promised

**Series Warnings!! ** ABO dynamics! Smut, unprotected smut, knotting, claiming, mating, heat, rut, language, overly protective Jensen, age gap! 19-year-old reader, 41-year-old Jensen, virgin reader, loss of virginity, sort of an arranged marriage, hint at possible mob type settings.

Story Description:

In a world where your presentation can be a blessing or a curse, a newly presented Omega will come face to face with the harsh reality of Alphas, Omegas, and pack alliances that are expected to be upheld with the union of your two families…

A/N: Pt.5!!! Please don’t copy my stuff! Feedback is welcomed! If you want to be added to the series tag list, or just my tag list in general let me know! Cross-posted on Wattpad! Hope you enjoy it!! This is my first ABO series so be nice lmao!

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Word Count: 2362

You had been at the hotel with your Alpha for two days, well awake anyway, really you had been there around four.

In those two days, Jensen had been taking care of you while you recovered from what he said was the worst fever he ever has seen an Omega undergo during her heat.

He still hadn’t tried to have sex with you again, and no matter how much you try and convince yourself that he’s just trying to make sure you’re well, and fully recovered it’s something that’s constantly gnawing at you in the back of your mind.

It’s not like he’d been avoiding you. Every night when you went to bed he’d wrap his strong arms around you, and pull you as tight to his chest as humanly possible. Tangling your legs together and holding onto you like if he let go even a little you would disappear.

He spent the last to days pretty much attached to your hip while you were awake. Pulling you into his lap while on the couch watching movies, making sure you ate, making sure you were comfortable.

That did make you believe the cares.

Waking up this his arms was quickly becoming your favorite thing. That was for sure.

Jensen was currently sitting with his laptop on his lap, and alternating between texting, and typing away on his keyboard in front of him. He hadn’t told you what he was doing, and honestly, you didn’t know whether it was okay to ask it.

You found yourself constantly craving his touch, but you didn’t know if it was okay that you approach him; or were you supposed to wait for him to come to you?

You thought your parents taught you everything you needed to know about Alphas, Omegas, and their relationships together, but you found out quickly that you knew nothing. So you kept your distance, watching him type away out of the corner of your eye.

After what felt like an eternity he looked up from his work and smirked at you over the laptop screen.

“I can literally feel you staring you know?” he says, his voice light and teasing.

You knew he wasn’t angry, but for some reason, the very sound of his voice was enough to make you shake in skin... In a good way…

“Sorry,” you mumble, picking up your coffee cup, and trying to concentrate on the show playing in front of you on the TV.

“Come here,” he said.

It wasn’t a request, you knew that. So you put down your cup on the table next to you and walked over to your Alpha, who had closed his laptop and set it on the couch next to him.

When you got close to him, he reached out and pulled you into his lap. You immediately laid your head on his shoulder, letting his scent and his touch calm you. This was what you were craving. His touch. Him scent... Him…

“Seems like your feeling better today than you were yesterday,” he said, playing with your hair, while you absentmindedly played with the button that was open a little lower on his shirt than was probably necessary; but you didn’t complain. I mean the man was gorgeous.

“Yeah, I feel more like myself today,” you mumbled, not sure what answer he really wanted out of you. You wanted more than anything to please and not anger him. You didn’t know this man hardly at all though, and you didn’t want to ruin your relationship with him before you even got started.

Being claimed in the states meant that you were not only bound to the person for eternity, or until the bond was broken and rejected, but that you were also legally married as well.

“I was sending off our paperwork to the clerk of courts office, you should get your new Social Security Card, and ID in the mail in a few weeks, along with our marriage license ...” he said, letting the sentence trail off at the end like was lost in his own thoughts.

You didn’t even think about that. You felt like such a child around him most of the time.

Which you guess that in a way you were. You were homeschooled, you were never allowed to leave the house, your only friends were family, you had never realized just how sheltered you were until you were tied to someone who you had never known, and expected to function.

Jensen had traveled all over the globe with his job. He’d seen and meet people of every variety and flavor. You had trouble making an order on the phone for food, and you weren’t even face to face with people.

Jensen swore that he’d teach you, that it was okay, not to worry about it. That it was your family's fault.

In a way, you had started to wonder if all those years, your whole life really, if you had been abused?

As if on cue Jensen cleared his throat bring you back to the present, his fingers dancing lightly over the sink of your back where he’d moved his hand under your shirt.

“Since your feeling better I think it might be best to go home today. We can use my friend’s private jet and be back in Austin within the hour. I had a moving company come in and collect your clothes and belongings that your parents had packed up for you. So you don’t have to go back there. Honestly, sweetheart, I don’t think you should go back there ...”

Your blood ran cold. This was one thing you had feared about being tied to an Alpha, the control. You stiffened before you could stop yourself. The thought of not being around your family had your heart-shattering. Yes, they were more than likely abusive and the cause of your anxiety, and inability to function in a and around normal circumstances, but they were all you had ever known.

Putting a finger under your chin Jensen lifted your face slightly to look at him. His green eyes searching yours. His face calm and unraveling.

“You didn’t like that I can tell,” he said, his voice soft, but you could hear a little concern.

The statement confused you though.

“What… How… How did you know I didn’t like it?” you asked.

When he started to chuckle it surprised you. If you would have questioned an Alpha in your family, you probably would have found your ass on the ground. He thought it was funny?

“Y/N, we’re bonded. I can literally feel the anxiety rolling off of you right now, and the fact that you're afraid of me. I can tell you what your feeling probably better than you can.”

You sat there on his lap staring at him there like a deer caught in the headlights, which made him laugh harder. His laugh was the most beautiful thing you had ever heard, and you realized you had never heard it until this point.

Once he got his features under control, licking those perfect lips that you wanted more than anything to kiss right now, but you shoved that thought down for later. One feat at a time.

“Y/N, you’re allowed to have feelings and opinions. I’m not going to beat the shit out of you just because you disagree with me. I’m not going to snap. I can control my temper. I don’t know what you’ve been subjected to in your life, but I can guess by the way you act around me like you’re constantly walking on glass that it wasn’t a good upbringing, at least not a healthy one..” Taking a deep breath he brushed a stray piece of hair behind ear that had fallen in front of your face.

“I tell you what, sweetheart, let's go home and get you settled. Then let's just take some time learning each other a little. We will figure out what to do about your family later.”

It made you feel a lot better that he did take your feelings into consideration. It was more than you would have thought possible alone.

--------------------------------

Three hours later, faster than you would have honestly thought possible, but again here you are; you were walking through Austin-Bergstrom International Airport.

Jensen’s arm was firmly wrapped around your waist as you made your way through the airport with your bags thrown over his shoulder. Both of you only basically had a duffle bag a piece in the hotel room.

Jensen had said your stuff was already delivered to your new home. Jensen’s eyes scanned the airport cautiously, scanning faces of passers-by as they went. A few people did seem to recognize Jensen. You could tell by the gaggle of girls that seemed to be drooling over him in the corner by the little sitting area when you passed, but the look on Jensen’s face screamed back off, and no one made a move to approach the two of you.

Once you were both safely in your uber Jensen gave the driver the address. Leaning over and taking his jacket off and placing it over your shoulders before pulling you close as possible in the back of the SUV.

“You okay so far?” he mumbled low enough that the driver couldn’t really hear the conversation going on between the two of you.

You nodded your head, pulling his jacket around you tighter, letting his lingering scent wash over you, calming you.

“I didn’t see any cameras, but I’m sure someone caught pictures of us. At least they didn’t approach. I really am not ready to share you just yet Omega.” he said, his voice dropping a whole octave, and his teeth grazing over the shell of your ear; causing a shiver to rip through your whole being.

That was the first time he had touched you like that since the night that he claimed you.

Finally, the car pulled up outside of the house. It was surprisingly closer to the road than you would have thought it would be. Not in a gated community. There were neighbors. That was something you hadn’t expected either. Your parent's house was something like a compound of sorts. Way over walled and way overdone. There was barely even a fence blocking the front door?

Jensen got out of the car, then helped you out, walking to the door with your hand wrapped tightly in his.

The house was impressive from the outside the closer you got to it. Two levels, maybe more. The outside painted a light gray. A wood lacquer type fence around some parts of the house. A well-manicured lawn.

Everything was clean. Everything was… Normal… No grand driveways, nothing like that. It was strange. You felt so out in the open. Jensen unlocked the door, then turned to you without warning sweeping you up bridal style into his arms.

You squealed in surprise, clinging onto his neck.

Closing the door with his foot he walked you through the house like you weighed nothing at all. Jensen stopped in the hallway outside of a door reaching down he opened the door to a beautiful bedroom. Clean, sleek. Everything looked expensive and modern.

Walking over to the bed he laid you down gently before jumping on the bed hovering over you playfully. A side of him you hadn’t seen yet. Though you did like it. He seemed really glad to be back into his own space.

Leaning down he licked at your claiming mark lightly, purring over you.

“So what do you think of the house so far? Satisfactory?”

You laughed a little at him as he nipped at your jawline leaving little open-mouthed kisses down your neck. Scenting you deeply at your claiming mark.

“I don’t know. All I’ve really seen so far is the bedroom,” you try and play back to him.

He was in such a good mood you didn’t want to break it. You liked him being playful. It’s like he morphed into a different person as soon as the car pulled up at his house.

“Well, baby that is the most important room in the house,” he smirked at you.

Getting a spurt of confidence you lean and brush your lips over his. Jensen takes over at once like it was the permission he’d been waiting for you to give him for days, he connected his lips to yours. Kissing you deeper than he ever had. Stealing your breath away. Your heart pounding like you had just ran a marathon.

His tongues slipped past your lips and teeth. Gliding over your tongue with ease, pulling a little moan from your lips past your own defenses.

Purring against you he pressed his weight on top of you a little more, letting you feel him against you for the first time. His scent was coming off of him in waves. His hand trailing up the inside of your thigh. Fingers tracing over hips lightly, making their way to the button on your jeans. Popping the button loose he slid his hand inside your jeans. Just as his fingers made their way inside your panties, sliding one of his thick digits through your soaking folds…. The front door closed loudly.

A growl ripped through Jensen’s chest, he jumped off of you like someone had shot him.

“Jay? You guys home? Gen sent you guys some dinner for tonight!” you heard the voice of another man yell through the house, making his way closer to your bedroom as you hurried to fix your close.

Jensen hovering over you, his head in the bend of your neck. A deep groan leaving his lips.

“Remind me to change the locks,” he said before getting off the bed.

“Who is it Alpha?”

You couldn’t help the whine that left your lips. He chuckles slightly coming back over to kiss you softly before moving to go meet your interrupter in the living room.

“Jared, he’s a good friend of mine. We will pick up where we left off when he leaves Omega,” he said, brushing your lips with his thumb lightly before walking out of the bedroom.

You didn’t know who this Jared is, but you did make a mental note to teach him how to knock.

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If you missed the previous chapter read it here!!

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Tag List:

@deanwanddamons @imabitch4jensen @rvgrsbrns

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daddystevee · 4 years

Text

Worlds Collide - part 1

(steve harrington x fem!reader)

A/N: Okay, i think this is gonna be good, but at the same time im not sure. Its a good concept but im just not good at putting my thoughts onto paper. So please forgive me if this part sucks. I wanted to try writing another multi part fic, but this one might be shorter, but who knows anyways.. Enjoyyyy <3

Warnings: none yet

Summary: Modern day au where Steve and reader meet on a dating website, but things don’t exactly go according to plan.

Word count: 1.2k

part 1/?

masterlist

You tried to convince yourself that this would be good for you. Everyone needed someone, no one could take on a world as crazy as ours alone. So when your best friend and roommate told you that you should try to get out there and to sign up for this online dating website, you didn’t fight her on it.

“Alright, that should be fine.” your roommate Cami said to you, adding the finishing touches to your makeup.

“I feel like this is.. just too much.” you say getting up from the chair moving over to the vanity in her room, getting a good look at your ‘new’ face. You don’t think you had ever worn this much makeup in your life, not even for school dances.

After staring at your face for a little bit longer, you feel two hands being placed onto your shoulders, “Y/N, you look amazing.” she says turning you around to face her. “Okay, now we have to go out on the balcony to take some bomb ass selfies.”

On the other side of town, you would find Steve Harrington surrounded by 6 teens. All huddled around a small computer, each person shouting out different things.

“You should put on there that you LOVE kids. Girls love that.”

“No, I would for sure put something about puppies.”

“Oh, yeah. Puppies.”

“No, no, no. Steve don’t listen to them, add some cheesy pickup lines. Those always work.”

And so on and so on. After so long, he could only take so much,

“Alright! That’s enough.” he says a little louder than anticipated, “I’ll put down what I think would sound good.” With that, the kids go silent but continue to watch over the older boys shoulders.

Once Steve has everything he thinks would attract girls, along with a few of the things the kids mentioned, he reluctantly agrees to let the girls help pick out some of the pictures from his phone to put on his profile. Not even 5 minutes later they have several photos uploaded to his computer and onto his page.

Some of him and the kids on Halloween in their matching costumes, showing off that he does in fact love his kids. A few of him out at bars, to prove that he is a social and outgoing person. And even one with him holding a puppy from the time the kids convinced him to go look at dogs at a kennel, because puppies are cute.

After a few days of swiping through the app, you seem to be having shit luck. The guys who have super liked you, aren’t exactly your type, and they guys you’ve had even the slightest interest in never seem to swipe on you.

“I don’t think I can do this anymore Cam, it’s honestly so boring and I’m not getting any matches-” you start to say before she rips your phone out of your hand before plopping down next to you on the couch.

“That’s because you’re not doing it right. Just because you and someone match, doesn’t mean you have to reach back out to them.” she then proceeds to start swiping on almost every single guy. As she’s doing so, you do seem to be getting more and more matches, then right as she’s about to swipe left on someone you stop her.

“Wait, he’s really cute.” you say, emphasis on the ‘really’, while peering over your friends shoulder, “Steve Harrington huh? Has kind of a ring to it don’t ya think?”

She hands the phone over to you and allows you to do the honors. Upon swiping right, it’s an immediate match. You gasp and turn to Cami, with a look of complete shock on your face. You hear a ding, then a little notification comes up on the screen saying,

what are ya waiting for? make your move!

“What do I say?” you ask still in shock that someone, you thought was cute matched with you. “Oh wait, I got it.”

"Be honest. Is that dog really yours or just for props?"

You giggled to yourself at your question thinking it was hilarious, hoping he would find it funny too. But when the ‘sent’ changed to ‘read’ your laughter stopped, it was no longer funny. What if he didn’t think it was funny, what if he matched on accident? What if he unmatched because of your stupid opener.

All of your worries went away when you saw that he was typing…

“alright, you caught me. not my dog, but you're cuter than any dog i’ve ever seen.”

“Dustin!” Steve yelled, snatching his phone out of his smaller friends hand, “Dude you don’t just blurt that kinda shit out.”

“i’m sorry, that’s not something i would actually say.”

“Alright, try again lmao.”

“it’s my friends, they set me up on this app. i’ve never really done anything like this before, so they’re trying to help me out, but aren’t doing a very good job.” read

“okay, okay. how about, you let me take you out on a date and we can talk, and get to know each other. no distractions” read

A few minutes pass with no response, “Shit! Shit, shit, shit.. this is awkward, she thinks I'm an idiot.”

Steve feels a hand on his shoulder, he turns around to see Will looking over his shoulder.

“Just give her some time, maybe she’s busy. Or trying to come up with a response?” As soon as the words come out of his mouth, a ding comes from Steve’s phone. He snaps his head towards his hands and his face lights up with a smile.

“Sure, sounds good to me. Gives me a chance to do this on my own, my roommate’s been up my ass this whole time. You got a snapchat? You know so I can get in contact with you outside the app.”

“Guys! I did it! She wants my snapchat!” Steve says looking to the teens who are sitting around a laptop, watching Netflix, paying no attention to him.

“yeah, totally. it’s stevethehair”

“Okay, hold on I'll add you.”

You go and add him on snapchat, the two of you hit it off instantly, and start to plan out your date. He’s planning on taking you to this diner named ‘Benny’s’ for dinner later in the week, due to busy work schedules throughout the week.

As the days go by, and you spend your time on your bed watching Cami go through the clothing in your closet. Walking from room to room pulling pieces of clothing together to make a full outfit.

“You don’t wanna over dress, but you also don’t want to under dress. You feel me?”

You nod your head when your phone vibrates on your leg. Picking up the phone, the smile that was once on your face slowly turns into a frown.

Cami turns around with a pair of jeans and a cute crop top to go with it, but notices your face and drops all of the clothes.

“Wait, what just happened you were so happy like 2 seconds ago.”

“It’s Steve. He just canceled.”

#steve harrington #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #kait writes #Worlds Collide #worlds collide au #au #fic #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fic #stranger things au #steve harrington au #modern day stranger things #modern day fic

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moon-yeongjun · 3 years

Text

The Gay Cousin Pt. 1 || Moon Bros

Summary: Jun and Tae’s cousins from Canada zoom in... and reveal a pretty shocking secret!

TW: anxiety, thoughts/mentions of homophobia (no actual homophobia expressed)

@moon-yeongtae

JUN: A couple of times a year, the Moon family skyped the other Moon family. It happened only on your standard occasions: Chuseok and Christmas. Much more common were phone calls to Eomma’s extended family still living in Korea-- her cousins and aunts and uncles, most of whom Jun had never met.

But the other Moons-- his father’s younger brother’s family who had immigrated as well, but to Canada, not England. Well, they were like Santa Claus. Or a unicorn. Popped up, said hi, sent cards but only over email. In fact, there were times they could not work out the time difference between Toronto and Swynlake and so they missed the Skype call.

But not these days. Oh no, these days, ever since Abeoji died, Eomma was making a real effort to keep in touch with Nam-seok and his two sons. Whether it was out of guilt or maybe her way of feeling closer to her late husband, Jun didn’t know.

He also didn’t argue though when she told all the Moons that it was Jacob’s birthday in a few days and they were going to Skype him from his new apartment.

“After church, this Sunday, so no plans!” Eomma said fiercely to all of them, waving a knife in the air. She glared more fiercely at Star, who was truly going through the rebellious-teen-phase on behalf of both goody-two-shoes Sky and eager-to-please Sunny, and was texting at the table.

“But Eomma, I was going to go over to Janet’s--”

“No. Jacob emailed me, eh? We’re doing it. No excuse.”

And so now it was Sunday, at 2:26 p.m., which was 9:26 a.m. in Toronto, which seemed pretty early for a 25-year-old (and shouldn’t he be going to church too? Jun was not going to point this out to Eomma, for Jacob’s sake). They gathered around Jun’s laptop as he logged onto Zoom, which was much better than Skype, he told Eomma.

“Agh, your butt is too big, Star!” yelped Sunny behind. Sunny and Star were fighting for Jun’s nice desk chair, trying to shove each other off with their hips.

“I called it!”

“Aish, girls!” Eomma snapped. “Sky, put the book down.”

“We’re not even on yet?” Sky huffed, not lowering her book.

Jun rolled his eyes and glanced at Tae. Who knew that Tae would be the best behaved of his siblings? Not him. Though, his brother was almost 18 now, so maybe his bad attitude really was just a symptom of those early teens, like the girls now.

Just then, his screen began to ring. “Yah, he’s calling!” Jun announced.

Eomma ripped the book from Sky’s hands. “Okay everyone, be nice or I’ll kill you!”

The next moment, his cousin appeared: Jacob with his big grin, which immediately reminded Jun of Tae. But that was about the only resemblance. Jacob was blond now! Aish! A second after, his other cousin leaned in onto the screen: Kevin, with his hipster glasses, wearing a beanie even though it was spring there, unruly hair poking out. Too long, thought Jun. What was with kids these days and growing their hair so long? “Yooooooo, Moon fam, hi!” Kevin said.

“Gomo, hello hello!” sweet Jacob said, waving both his hands. “How’s everyone doing?”

TAE:

When Tae was younger, he used to wish he belonged to the other part of the Moon family. It wasn't because he hated his life or anything even though he sort of did sometimes (at least back then), it was because they just seemed so much cooler! Like right now his cousins were smiling so big and Jacob had dyed his hair blonde! Tae had a feeling that if he tried to dye his hair blonde his eomma would try to slap some sense into him with a kitchen spoon! Ha!

"We're great," Tae said, leaning closer to the screen and blocking his sisters' view of the screen and smiling big in return. They didn't need to see anyway.

Predictably, though, the second he was fully in the way he felt shoving at his back.

"Oppa you're in the way! We can't see!"

"You don't need to see anyway," he said and laughed when Star yanked him backward by the shirt. "I like your hair! How long did it take to turn it blond?"

"Like, a long time," Jacob said with a laugh. "It looks good though so it was worth it."

"Maybe I'll do it next," Tae said and smiled really big. "Eomma will help me, right, Eomma?"

JUN:

Aish, was Tae trying to pick a fight? He took back what he was thinking about one minute earlier: Tae had not grown out of his annoying teenager phase at all. He was still in it, a troublemaker to the end. Because he knew! Oh he knew, he heard the fights between Star and Eomma as Star pushed and pushed. It had taken her almost a full six months to convince Eomma to let her and Sunny dye bleach their hair in the first place. And she’d not even asked about the blue colour, just showed up, tossing those locks and letting Eomma lose her mind.

Remember what Eomma had just said too? Behave. Picking a fight in front of their cousins was not behaving.

“I think Star has more experience with that,” said Jun swiftly, so Eomma did not have to answer. Eomma nodded, not adding anything else, which Jun knew was because she did not like the idea of Tae-- any of her children-- dying their hair at all.

“Yes! Girl, I saw your Insta pics, that blue was so cute!” Jacob said.

“Fire!” Kevin added, putting his hand to his mouth like a megaphone.

Star preened. “Thanks! It was super hard to manage though and like, washed out to this ugly green colour.”

“Right, yeah, I get that,” said Jacob. “So what’s everyone doing?”

“No, you tell us about you, you are both so busy,” Eomma interrupted with a smile. “I see Jacob’s graduation pictures?”

“Right, yes! I finished my Masters in Music Ed,” said Jacob. “Kevin’s still working on his degree, he’ll be done in like no time though. And then I just moved here! Ahh, first place of my own! Well, not like on my own, on my own, but you know--”

Eomma clapped her hands lightly. “That’s so wonderful! So responsible. You have a job?”

“Um, yes, but not actually teaching music yet!” Jacob laughed. “I’m just like, working in a restaurant right now.”

“Music is a very hard degree to find a job for,” said Jun. Then flinched as he felt Eomma pinch him. He shot her a confused look. What! It was! Who could get a degree in music education and expect to make real money?!

“Haha, yeah it is but like, I just graduated so I mean, I’ll be interviewing for stuff for next school year.” Jacob went on like he didn’t notice. “But so wait, no, everyone tell me what’s up! Tae, aren’t you going to uni soon?”

TAE:

Tae's smile fell for a moment before he could control himself but he quickly recovered, pasting it back in place. The thing was, theoretically? Yes, Tae was supposed to be going to uni soon. Actually, he was supposed to be going to uni next year if everything had gone the way it was supposed to, but he was a giant failure of a human being and had to repeat an entire year.

He didn't really want to get into all of that, obviously, so he just kind of smiled and nodded. "I still have one more year before I have to get into that, but yeah, I can already tell that year is going to go by fast."

There, that was much easier than talking about how he felt like an utter failure and like he was too stupid to ever get into any uni, right? Perfect!

"Jun-hyung is really doing great with the store, too! We actually have employees now and he's even dating one of them."

He looked over to his hyung with s little wince, hopeful that Jun would take pity on him and not kill him later.

I'm sorry, he tried to communicate with his eyes. I just can't talk about uni.

JUN:

Now this wasn't fair. Why should Jun have to suffer because Tae was irresponsible and lazy and didn't study enough or own up to his choices???!

Okay, maybe that was putting it all a little harshly but Jun was not feeling very forgiving when Tar mentioned the g word.

Girlfriend.

His cousins were going to gobble that up, two hungry hyenas scenting gossip.

And sure enough, both Kevin and Jacob gasped.

"Yooooooooo no way! But wait-- wait wait, what about Tiffany?" exclaimed Kevin.

" They broke up! Kevin that was in Gomo's Christmas email! I'm sorry Gomo, I swear he read it--"

"Course I read it, I just forgot! Tiffany was around forever!"

"Anyway, this new girl? Tell us about her!" Jacob beamed.

Jun would rather not. He would rather do anything but talk about Haru. He needed to say something fast though or else--

Already too late. Jun's one second grimace opened the window for Eomma.

"Oh she's wonderful! Her name is Haru, she is Japanese but very beautiful! Very polite and friendly and she goes to church--"

Jun cleared his throat. "Yes, we are still getting to know each other. It's new."

"Well she has worked for us for a year, that isn't very new--" Star said with a smirk like the traitor she was.

"Don't you want to show us your new place, Jacob?" interrupted Jun maybe a little desperately, who could say!

"Oh yeah, Zoom tour!" Kevin flashed rock our signs.

"Definitely! I was just hoping we could wait for--" Jacob turned at that moment. "Did you hear that? Oh I think he's here! Wait just one minute everyone!" Jacob waved a hand and then scurried out of the room.

Kevin leaned in to the screen. "Soooooo… anyone else got any hot significant others, hmmm? Star-- Tae, my man??"

TAE:

“Ha,” he blurted, and then instantly he panicked and shut his mouth.

Tae had literally been about to say he had the hottest one. It had been right there on the tip of his tongue, because any chance to talk about how hot Nemo was was something he wanted to take advantage of. Then he remembered that most of his family had absolutely no idea he was gay and if his eomma knew that about him she’d probably tell him he was going to hell.

This zoom call was quickly turning into a nightmare. Not only was he forced to think about how dumb he was, now he had to think about how closeted he was too. He wanted to leave, but he couldn’t, so he sat there and tried to keep a smile on his face while Star babbled on about someone in her class and all her boyfriends or whatever she was talking about.

If Tae had been panicking a little bit less, he might’ve caught it. He might’ve been able to prepare himself for what he was about to see because all the hints were there. No one was trying to hide anything at all.

Jacob had clearly said he’s here and then right after that, Kevin had asked if anyone else had any hot significant others. So yeah, Tae should’ve been prepared when Jacob walked back into the frame holding an unfamiliar boy’s hand.

He should’ve been prepared, but he wasn’t.

In fact, when he saw Jacob walk back into the frame, everything around him went black and he stopped breathing while he gripped his chair so hard his fingers hurt. He was going to pass out.

Tae looked over at his eomma, trying to read her expression, but all he saw was a blank stare.

“Tae!”

Tae blinked and the world filled back in around him. Star was pushing at his back and giggling. “Aren’t you going to say hi? Jacob is introducing his boyfriend!”

“Right, sorry! Hey, it’s nice to meet you,” Tae said with a respectful little bow of his head.

JUN:

From Jun’s point of view, it went like this:

“Star’s flirting with like six different guys right now,” Sky spoke for the first time, right after Tae’s very strange squeak. Jun met Sky’s eyes for a beat, his own eyebrows furrowing down for a moment. Did Sky…? But he thought only Sunny--

“Oh my god, am not,” groaned Star. “Sides, Eomma won’t let me date yet anyway.”

“You’re too young,” said Eomma. “Whoever these boys are too, stop flirting with them--”

“I’m not flirting! I’m friends with them. You won’t let me go out with Tyler--”

“Ooooh, who’s Tyler?” said Kevin, wiggling his eyebrows.

“A friend,” said Star, looking very pointedly at Eomma.

And this was when the door opened and Jacob returned with another boy. He looked Korean, maybe-- was he Korean?-- with short black hair and thick-framed, stylish glasses. He carried coffees with him and a large, friendly smile. But that smile was nothing compared to his cousin’s. His cousin’s smile had crinkled his eyes into precious rainbows and he squeezed the boy’s arm once--

And Jun knew, right before Jacob said anything, but not fast enough to suddenly smash his hand on the keyboard and instantly disconnect them. The panic seized his throat.

“Gomo, everyone, I wanted you guys to meet my boyfriend. This is David!”

“Hey everyone, I’ve heard so much about you,” said this David as he pulled up a chair. He grinned again, leaning closer to the screen. “Seriously, Jacob is always talking about his cool British cousins.”

“Wait, I’m screaming!” squealed Star (not actually screaming). “You have a boyfriend?”

“It’s nice to meet you!” piped in Sunny, and Sky echoed her, “Nice to meet you!”

Jun, meanwhile, was trying not to look at Tae, but could not help himself. And so he kept jumping his eyes around like he was following the path of a fly in the air. Look up, look to the side, look at the mouse, okay, look at Tae--!

Tae looked like he’d been punched in the face.

Eomma looked like she was listening to some very serious news.

“Yes, very good to meet you,” said Eomma finally, after Tae had spoken too. She smiled very politely. “How do you know Jacob?”

“We went to school together,” said David. “Undergrad, I mean.”

“We started dating our third year,” added Jacob. His knee was bouncing, Jun could see it on the screen. Ah, so he was nervous too. Good, he should be, he might have just exploded the Moon families forever! This was sabotage! What was he thinking?! “So it’s our third year together. So we decided to get a place. He’s great,” Jacob gushed. “I mean, totally genius level smart, he works at an engineering firm.”

“Yeah, David’s awesome,” chimed in Kevin.

“What do your parents do?” asked Eomma.

“They’re both teachers actually,” said David. “That’s how they met, uh, in their PhD programs. My mom mostly does after school tutoring in sciences, but my baba’s a professor at McGill.”

“Oh, very impressive,” said Eomma. She pressed her lips together. Jun was staring at her; he could not look away. “And has David met your appa and eomma, Jacob?”

“Yes,” said Jacob with a nod. “Yes, yeah. That’s one of the reasons I wanted you guys to meet him too, you know? We’ve just been dating so long it felt silly at some point, haha!”

TAE:

Tae was having a heart attack.

They’d learned all about it in school--the sweaty palms, the shortness of breath, the unbearable pain in the left side of the chest. He was absolutely going to die right here in this chair while talking to his cousins from Canada. Or he was going to puke. One of those two things was going to happen and it was the most important thing in the world that he not give any of that away with his face. He had to remain still. He had to remain stoic. He was not allowed to talk.

He heard everything Jacob was saying. They’d been dating for a long time. They’d been together so long, actually, that Jacob’s new apartment was actually Jacob and David’s new apartment and his parents knew all about it and they still loved him. They loved him enough for Jacob to think it was a good idea to introduce David to their family.

Their very traditional, Christian family.

Yep.

Tae was actually dying.

The screen in front of him started to waver. Actually, the whole room kind of looked a little misty, and Tae realized there were tears in his eyes. His Eomma was barely moving. She was talking, but they were like short little clipped sentences and Tae was so afraid of what she was going to say when they ended the call. He didn’t want to hear it.

Slowly, Tae looked over at Jun, his eyes big and pleading. He didn’t know what he wanted his hyung to do, but he needed to get out of this. He didn’t want to be here anymore.

A hand, small and warm, was suddenly covering his where he was gripping the chair with all his strength and he looked down to see it was Sunny. She’d leaned forward just a little to reach him and Tae had to cough to cover what sounded suspiciously like a sob. Ha.

He couldn’t think about David meeting his aunt and uncle. He couldn’t think about how cute it probably was and how much they probably loved their son’s boyfriend. If he did, he’d start wondering if it would ever happen for him.

He’d start thinking about bringing Nemo over to his eomma and telling her they were dating. He’d start imagining how happy she would be for them and how supportive she would be when he said they were going to move in together. He’d start daydreaming about what it would be like to live with Nemo and how happy he would be because his family could come visit them and they could cook dinner and entertain and--

He pulled his hand away from Sunny’s and wrapped his arms around his knees.

JUN:

Tae looked at Jun the way he used to when he was just a kid. It had been a long time since Jun had seen that sweet boy in his brother’s face. Those big eyes, that nervous lip. He was five years old and crying about his scabbed knees. He was six and begging Jun for chocolates. He was seven and teary-eyed as he struggled with his maths homework, Jun sitting with him at the kitchen table.

And Jun wished he were the hyung he had been all those years ago-- bad hair and acne but all the time in the world to answer to his brother’s needs. He’d once been a superhero, the smartest person Tae ever knew! There was nothing he could not fix!

But this.

This was Tae, eight years old, asking him not to go away to university. That had been the first time that Jun had ever broken a promise and let his brother down.

And here he was again. He stared back helplessly. What could he do, eh? Stop the call abruptly? Make an excuse for Tae that wouldn’t upset Eomma? Turn back time, call his cousin, tell him that coming out was a bad idea?

And was it?

Jun could not say. Eomma was not causing a scene. She had not shut down. She was not as happy as before, but maybe it was a shock, or maybe the slight had nothing to do with Jacob bringing a boyfriend, and instead it was about him bringing anyone at all to a family call.

Jun would just have to wait and see.

And so he sat there. Just like Tae sat there. He sat there, failing his brother all over again.

“Well I think that’s all super awesome!” blurted Sunny, proving to be more useful than Jun. “Maybe we could visit you guys one day!”

“Totally!” said Jacob.

“Oh yeah, the first ever Moon family reunion!” said Kevin as he pumped his fist. “Man, we’d gotta get some of the O-G Moons.”

“O-G?” David snorted.

“He’s talking about the real Koreans,” said Jacob. “In Korea.”

“You... are real Koreans--” David started.

“Point is, all the Moons!” Kevin said. “One day! Would be fun.”

Jun could only nod and press his lips together. At least they were not talking about David anymore, not really, eh? Best keep it that way. Maybe that was what Jun could do. “So eh, you wanted to give a tour of the apartment?” He prompted.

The rest of the call was mostly that. Jacob walked them around their place. They had been in the spare room, which was mostly an ‘office’, but Jun saw the massive computer screen and knew it was a gaming computer, mhm. And then there was a rather new kitchen, brand new appliances, David bragged. David also talked a lot about some of the apartment complex amenities, the on-site gym, a movie theater big enough for a group of say, eight to ten. He was proud, Jun saw that-- it was an expensive place, and no doubt he was covering most of it for Jacob. Jun wondered about that aspect of their relationship, he wondered if Jacob really was ready for it all, only 25 years old, on the cusp of his start of career, to depend on someone else…

And then the bedroom, which they did not spend much time in, because they wanted to show the bathroom with its nice sized tub.

And then the balcony, which had a nice view of Toronto. Star sighed dreamily. “I wanna live in a city like that one day!”

And then they all said their goodbyes. “This was so fun, I’m so glad you guys could call in,” said gentle, naive Jacob. He did not seem to suspect anything. Maybe he was hiding it. Maybe not.

Eomma stood up first as the Zoom ended. “He is doing very well,” she said. “What a beautiful place to live, eh? See, this is what happens when you study hard.” She looked at Tae sternly.

“Tae, I need your help!” Jun blurted at that moment, slapping the arm of his chair and making his sisters flinch. “With-- there’s-- the thing, you know, I told you to do this morning. You didn’t do it.”

TAE:

The second his hyung spoke, Tae jumped out of his chair and nodded, heading to the back door where he kept his mud boots. He couldn’t breathe. The air in their house had gotten too thick and every time Tae tried to take a breath it stuck in his lungs, gummy and wet.

His eomma hadn’t looked happy. In fact, she hadn’t looked much of anything, her face kind of a blank slate, and Tae’s brain had absolutely no problem projecting all of his fears onto that blank slate. She’d been disgusted. She’d been upset, mad, disappointed.

That last one really was the worst one for Tae.

Pulled his boots up over his jeans and stomped down the stairs, heading toward the barn with one thought swirling through his head over and over and over. You’re already such a disappointment, and when she finds out you’re gay that’ll be the last straw.

It was true, though, wasn’t it? He’d failed a grade. Now, the second time he’d done this school year, he was passing, but just barely. He was stupid. He was a giant idiot and his eomma knew that. That’s why she’d taken that dig at him, told him that if he studied hard he could have a nice apartment like Jacob.

Tae hated Jacob.

Well, no, he didn’t hate Jacob, but the jealousy burned through his bones and left him shaking and empty, barely able to stand. Wait. He wasn’t standing.

Tae looked down at his hands and found them covered in dirt. He was on his knees behind the chicken coop, his chest heaving as his heart attack finally caught up with him. He was going to die. It was kind of a relief actually, because now he wouldn’t have to come out to his eomma at all. He’d just die and be buried in a cute little grave and she could cry and say he’d had so much potential and maybe she’d even believe it because he hadn’t lived long enough for her to see how wrong she was.

He should probably call Nemo before he died, his brain offered up, but he’d left his phone in the house and it was probably better this way anyw--

A loud, rasping sound caught Tae’s attention and he looked around, his eyes wide and wet, until he realized it had come from him.

“I can’t,” he was saying. “I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.”

JUN:

Tae hopped up right away. Good, good, that was what Jun wanted. Jun could not follow his brother as quickly though, caught in the dynamics of the Moon women before he could escape. This mostly consisted of Star gripping at his arm and saying, “Junnie oppaaaa, you need to post a picture of you and Haru on Instagram, so Jacob can see her!”

“I don’t have a personal Instagram,” Jun said and tried to drag his arm away.

“Ugh, I’m making you one, that’s so sad,” said Star.

“Posting a picture would be good, Junnie,” said Eomma. “Maybe Facebook?”

“No one uses Facebook anymore, Eomma!” said Star.

“Aish, that’s not true, I use Facebook all the time,” said Eomma.

“I have to-- help Yeong-tae--” Jun cleared his throat and managed to squeeze out this time around, leaving talks of Facebook and selfies behind.

But not Jacob.

No, he carried that with him as he went outside. He had no idea where Tae would have gone, considering that Jun did not actually give him a task. He headed toward the chickens though, because that seemed to be a good distance from the house. And sure enough-- there was his brother-- on his knees.

Jun stopped, still far away as though he’d stepped in mud and it had sucked his feet down. He did not know what to do. Jun was not someone who comforted others-- not well. Whenever Tae had cried on his shoulder in the past year, he had sat like a useless, limp pillow, just there to be grabbed onto. He did not know what he’d say to Tae now either. He didn’t know how Eomma felt. Maybe she’d never talk about it, and maybe that was a good thing? Maybe later today, she’d rant about it all much too harshly. Jun could make Tae no promises.

Perhaps he should just leave. Hadn’t he already failed his brother enough today? Space could be what Tae needed, just...space, and time, so he could calm down…

This was not the right answer, Jun knew that and so he hesitated, second after second, before finally forcing his feet to move.

“Tae-yah, what are you doing? Get up, come on now,” said Jun, and he reached down to help Tae onto his feet again. His hands went clumsily up to his brother’s face, wiping away the tears over his splotchy red cheeks. “Look at me, eh? Why are you crying?” It was a genuine question, but also Jun felt like Tae needed something firm right now-- someone to keep him grounded, not have him spin off into whatever painful scenarios he was concocting in his head. “Eomma doesn’t know about you, okay? You’re okay. This is a good thing--”

He said it. And he believed it.

His hands moved down to grip his brother’s shoulders. “You aren’t alone anymore, don’t you see that? Jacob understands you, eh? He knows exactly what you’re going through!��

TAE:

“He doesn’t!” Tae heard himself say.

He wasn’t being fair, but he didn’t want to be fair. He wanted to be Jacob.

“He doesn’t know anything. Jacob--his eomma probably didn’t care at all! She probably smiled and hugged him and told him to bring David over for dinner and our Eomma just stared at him like he was gum stuck on the bottom of her s-shoe.”

Tae’s sobs caught up with him and his whole body shook. He didn’t care if what he was saying was true or not because in this moment it was how he felt. Alone.

Except Tae wasn’t alone, and for a moment, it was like he was six all over again. Jun-hyung, was standing here with him, his hands on his shoulders, and telling him everything was going to be okay.

Why couldn’t he live in a world where who he loved didn’t matter? He was a good person! Or, he tried to be at least. Sometimes he got a little bit angry and he was definitely short-tempered but...he just wanted his family to love him. He just wanted to be accepted.

“Hyung, you can’t let her hate me,” he said, his voice a little smaller--like maybe if he said it quiet enough the universe wouldn’t get any ideas. Hot tears slipped down his cheeks and Tae gripped at the hem of his hyung’s shirt. “She’s going to hate me, but you can’t let her.”

JUN:

“She won’t hate you,” said Jun. “I promise.”

It was not something he should promise.

But Jun had always felt this way, since Tae came out to him-- that there could be no other alternative. He could not imagine his loving eomma turning on one of her own children like that, no matter what she believed or didn’t believe. And really, did they know? A belief in God did not mean a belief that all gay people should be damned. He had seen plenty of Christians to argue the opposite: that God meant love, and love was for all of His children.

Maybe Eomma would be shocked, maybe she would be-- disappointed or confused. That was what Jun tried to find on Eomma’s face when Jacob had introduced his boyfriend, but she had been much too polite about it all for him to figure it out. And yes, those emotions might hurt Tae too, but it couldn’t be hate. Never hate.

Jun wished his promise could secure that. He would trade anything in order to give Tae that peace of mind.

As it was, he could only fumble his way through this like always. “Tae-yah,” he said then gently. “You should talk to Jacob again. You don’t know what it might be like for him. He was probably scared too, even if our gomo did accept him right away. I’m telling you, this is good.” He said it again, wiped his brother’s face again. “No matter what happens with Eomma, you will always have family, see? Me, and our sisters, and Jacob and Kevin-- and yes, even Gomo. So many people are going to be there for you.”

TAE:

His hyung was right. Tae knew his hyung was right and he shouldn’t be scared, but it was just so hard not to be. He took a deep, shaky breath and nodded his head. And when he really thought about it, maybe he was just a little bit less scared now than he had been before, because Jacob had come out and nothing had caught on fire. His eomma’s head didn’t explode and she didn’t start praying for him immediately and saying he was going to go to hell. So really, it had been a little bit like a test run and no one had died.

Now that he was a little more calm, Tae really wanted to know how Jacob had done it.

“I--Yeah I think I want to talk to him,” he said in a small voice, still holding onto his hyung’s shirt. “And I think I want to tell Sky and Star too. I think they should know.”

A small seed was starting to bloom bright with hope inside of Tae’s chest and he wanted to water it. He wanted to give it all of his energy until he wasn’t scared at all anymore. He leaned into Jun and wrapped his arms around him, squeezing him tight and pressing his cheek to his chest.

“Thank you, hyung,” he said, and he meant it so much. “Thank you for helping me.”

Maybe it was stupid, but what Tae really wanted now was Nemo. He wanted to tell Nemo all of his feelings. He wanted to explain to him that maybe he was ready, but he was also still so scared and he wanted Nemo to hold him and tell him everything was going to be okay just like his hyung was doing now.

Tae felt safe in his brother’s arms and he wanted to tell Nemo about that too. He wanted to tell Nemo that his hyung was a hero.

“You--I wouldn’t be able to do this without you,” he said, still mumbling. “You’re a good hyung.”

#moon bros #moon cousins #i love jacob and kevin a lot tho they're my boys #para

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singulari-taee · 4 years

Text

The Danger in Duality | 08

BTS X Reader

CW: Graphic depictions of violence and sexually explicit content

“You and your seven squad members must take on the struggles of being world-class assassins while also living as full-time college students.”

__________________________________________________

“Well, that was depressing,” Hoseok said after the call dropped.

Defeat washed over the room.

“What are the chances?” Namjoon asked. His fingers clasped in front of his face, expression etched in deep thought, “20 miles? That’s nothing.”

“Didn’t Squad 8 have something similar happen to them a few years ago, but with a different group?” Taehyung asked.

“Yeah but it was just a small rivalry, and Squad 8 handled it in a couple weeks. Anti or whoever keeps targeting The Academy’s squads...and they’re so close,” he said, “The Academy is the biggest organization of it’s kind in the world, so my guess is that Anti set up camp so close to make some sort of territory war.”

“But why do we have to be the ones caught in the middle?” Jimin said.

“Right, we literally could have been stationed anywhere,” you huffed.

“Well, since we’re the best squad, and Grandpa kind of prioritises us, he wanted us closer to home...like regional guards I guess,” Taehyung said.

“So essentially...nepotism came back to bite us in the ass,” you said.

“It wasn’t nepotism!” Namjoon began to fight, but he shared a look with Taehyung and didn’t continue.

“Well then why not start by targeting us if we’re the closest?” Hoseok asked.

“Maybe they were using the other squads as practice before they got to us,” Namjoon shrugged, “or maybe it was just a warning.”

Silence.

“I can’t do this right now,” Seokjin sighed, carding a hand through his hair as he walked to his room, “The mission is tomorrow and I gotta prepare.”

“Hey! Are you still watching the game with us tonight?” Hoseok called after him.

“Maybe,” he shut the door behind him.

“I’m gonna head out too,” you said.

“Woah, I thought you wanted to watch it!” Hoseok whined.

“Sorry, Seokjin’s right though. I need to prepare for tomorrow and I still have a shit ton of homework.”

“I’ll pass too,” Jungkook said as he and Taehyung followed you to the door.

“Oh not you too!” Hoseok threw his arms up.

“You know I don’t even like basketball,” Jungkook said, “Damn, Seokjin still has my calculator.”

Jungkook jogged to the oldest’s room and flung open the door.

Seokjin stood in nothing but boxers in the middle of the room. He was quick to cover himself as he let the profanity fly.

“Fuck are you doing?! Ever heard of knocking, you little shit?! Get out!”

He pushed Jungkook to the door, but the youngest pushed back effortlessly as he made his way to the calculator on the desk.

“Oops. Forgot this.” he said, “And you know how it works. If you really didn’t want anyone to come in, you would have locked it.”

“That’s not how this works! It’s my room!”

“What are you doing anyway?”

“Changing- you know what, I don’t need to explain myself to you. Move!” he shoved the youngest out of the room and locked the door.

“Yeah, so...I’m gonna go,” you said. You spared a glance back at Yoongi, who’s eyes followed you as you walked out of the apartment.

Jungkook and Taehyung were close behind. The sun had almost fully set, and it stretched over the horizon in a spray of oranges and reds. You neared the fork in the road, an indication to go your separate ways.

“Hey,” Jungkook said, “When the hell can I get that SIG-Sauer P228 off your hands?”

You scoffed, “I still can’t believe it's not too basic for you. That’s, like, a 3rd week of training level pistol.”

“No, what? Shut up! What do you even know?”

“I know that it’s basic.”

“Basic?! You’ve got the special limited holiday edition! It’s got the gold two-tone finish and the indented grip. Oh fuck and the light-weight. Ugh-,” he shook his head as he looked up at the sky, smiling. “And you promised!”

“You know he’s not gonna let it go now,” Taehyung warned.

“Okay, whatever fine, just come by and get it.”

Jungkook turned and you stuck your hand out, “What?”

“Woah, not right now.”

“Not now?! Then when?!” his arms flapped at his side, making him look like a tantrum-throwing child.

You shrugged and walked on, “Not now.”

He called after you, each word followed by a curse. It was true, you had promised that you would give him the gun soon. You rarely used it and when you told him you had it collecting dust in the back of your closet he all but ripped your head off, going on about how you didn’t respect the craft and how he’d save it from the likes of you (whatever the hell that meant). There was just no way you could deal with the company now, and the sooner you were back to your room the better.

As you neared your apartment, you saw a familiar car in the parking lot. The warning was all you needed to mentally prepare yourself for your roommate.

Turning your key in the lock, you pushed inside. Luna sat on the sofa, focused on her laptop.

“Hey!” she chirped, “How was your day?”

“Hey,” you nodded, “Okay, just stressful as usual.”

“Aww I’m sorry to hear that. Wanna come study with me?” she asked, patting the spot next to her.

You looked down the hall. The sanctuary of your room was just so close.

“Ah, damn. I’m just really tired, I don’t think I can focus right now.”

“Oh...I see,” she said in a low voice. The disappointment was clear, “It’s just that we never really see each other or hang out. We live together but I don’t really feel like I know you.”

And you never really will, you thought.

“I know,” you played with your fingers, “Tonight's just not good for me. But we can hang out soon. I promise. I’ll...try and make time for it.”

“Really? Okay! Sounds good,” she smiled, “Oh, and I already made dinner, there’s some left on the stove if you get hungry.”

With a thanks you went to your room, shut the door, and threw yourself on the bed. The blank ceiling didn’t help to clear your mind, just made it easier for your thoughts to race out of control.

It was all just so much.

Being hunted.

Being on top of the food chain, you never knew what it was like to be the prey. There was nothing good about feeling so exposed, especially when their den was supposedly 20 or so miles away. Why did it have to be so close? You couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched even within the confines of your mind and home. The news was messing with you.

Tomorrow’s mission.

It would be easy, but you hadn’t been on a unit mission in a while, and there was always more pressure when the whole squad wasn’t present. It would only be three of you, and only two would even enter the scene at all. Shouldn’t they have mixed up the skill-set and gotten someone else other than him? Hoseok would have been great on a stealth mission like this. And why did it have to be Yoongi of all people?

Yoongi.

The confusion you felt throughout the day came rushing back again. You couldn’t understand the reason behind his thought process. He was always so hard to read and today was no different. He never seemed like the casual ‘come over and let’s just chill’ type. He always needed his space, and given your past relationship you were always more than willing to give that to him. But with your new arrangements, having him want to see you beyond lust muddied the waters. Yes, you were friends. As strange as you liked to show it, you had been so for years. But never had you made an effort to spend time alone unless it was for work. Something about it felt wrong- even more so than the hookups. It felt like a new boundary was being crossed, one that was even scarier than the first.

But god how you wanted him.

He looked oddly beautiful watching the film earlier. Seeing him in gruesome violence for years, the delicate nature of the scene was enough to take you aback. There was just something about his gentleness....

You caught yourself. The corners of your lips shifted up without approval and you wiped it clean.

No. He only wanted this because you’re the only option. It was a safe investment- not because he felt anything else. And neither did you. Nope. You couldn’t. It was against the rules.

You slapped your hand against the bed, and pushed yourself towards the bathroom for a shower. As the water ran, you stripped down in front of the mirror. Your naked body was littered with nearly invisible scratches and bruises- the norm considering your routine. You couldn’t recall the last time you saw your skin clear of any marks.

Your phone buzzed against the counter top, a sign of a text message.

Picking it up, you noticed the speed of your heart change.

-------------------

Yoongi: You get home okay?

--------------------

You rolled your eyes. As if you couldn’t handle making your way home “okay”.

---------------------

You: No

Yoongi: ???

You: Some guys told me they’d give me candy if I got in their van so 💁

idk where we’re goin tho.

just cruisin rn.

Yoongi: Stop

You: Lmaooo take a joke

Yoongi: Today was fun

--------------------

The butterflies fluttered in your stomach a bit.

---------------------------

You: Yeah great movie choice btw

Yoongi:🙄 wyd rn?

You: About to get in the shower

---------------------------

You waited for his response, but after a minute you sat the phone back down and walked towards the tub. You heard another buzz and doubled back to check.

--------------------------

Yoongi: Send me a picture

--------------------------

You stared at your screen, rereading the words to make sure you weren’t mistaken.

-----------------------

You: Of…?

Yoongi: You dumbass

Before your shower

You: so nudes

Yoongi: Yeah

I wanna see you…

But you don’t have to

------------------------

You mulled over an answer. There was something about the idea of teasing him from afar that made your stomach knot with desire. You crossed your legs tighter. He had all day during the movie to “see you”. Why choose when you’re back home and unable to touch you to ask?

You positioned yourself in front of the mirror, trying to find the best angle. Sure you had taken pictures of yourself for yourself, but never with the intention of anyone else ever seeing them.

You twisted your body to see the curves in the reflection, a hand over your head for a better view of your bare chest. Though this was new, you weren’t stupid to the rules- never show your face. With the camera placed to block everything from the chin up, you heard the shutter as you posed.

Click.

You switched angles, leaning forward with your boobs pushed together.

Click.

You sat on the counter, and turned to get a view of your perched ass in the reflection.

Click.

You went back to check them, and you couldn’t help the satisfaction. These were hot. So hot you nearly turned yourself on.

Lucky bastard, you thought

After selecting the images, your finger hovered over the send button. With a deep breath, you bit the bullet and pressed it. Your anxiety wouldn’t allow you to wait for his response, so you put your phone down and hopped into the shower. You would see his reaction when you got out.

_________________

Yoongi hadn’t left his spot on the couch since you left. He spared glimpses at his phone, waiting for you to respond. Every moment that he got nothing, he cursed himself. He was being too thirsty and freaked you out. No way you would agree to this. He didn’t know what made him type out something so blatantly horny, he was embarrassed. Maybe he should apologize. Way to push his luck and make it awkward.

He was just so out of his mind after the assignment, he could barely think straight. He needed a distraction, anything to occupy his mind and not send him down the rabbit hole that was his unchecked fury. It just made no sense.

There was finally a vibration on his lap, and he carefully looked down to his notifications.

-------------------------

[3 attachments]

_______: Delete them from our messages after.

I expect you to kiss the ground I walk on after these. You’re welcome.

------------------------

He opened the message and caught a glimpse of the pictures. He sucked in a quick breath and threw his phone down.

He looked around the room. The others weren’t paying him any mind. Yoongi slowly picked the phone back up and took in the pictures in all their glory.

His breathing went shallow as he scrolled and zoomed on the screen. They weren’t just any crude pictures- there was an art to it that made him unable to look away. The curves of your body in the faint glow of the bathroom was delicious. Your body. God, your body. The longer he stared, he found something else to marvel over. He was glad he couldn’t see your face, because the thought of a smirk on your lips was enough to make his imagination run wild. He realized his mouth was hanging open and hurried to fix it. His pants were suddenly tighter, and he shifted to hide the sudden erection that was painfully fighting for his attention.

-------------------------

Yoongi: goddamn.

-------------------------

It sounded stupid, he knew that. But was there a right way to respond to something like that? No words or emojis would suffice. He was borderline salivating.

She told him to delete them after. Right. He still had to do that.

As Yoongi’s finger floated over the button, he found the deed harder to carry out than expected. The thought of sending them to the trash to never be seen again didn’t sit right with him.

Instead he found himself saving them to his Cloud app. They would be safe there, hidden amongst his thousands of other photos and documents. You had only said to delete them from your messages to not leave a trace, so this was still technically okay. He couldn’t think about the morality of it for too long or otherwise his conscience might disagree.

He quickly deleted the pictures from your texts and closed his eyes.

“You alright over there?” Seokjin asked, “You’ve been quiet since the mission assignment. But not, like, normal quiet.”

“Yeah, just have a headache,” Yoongi lied, carefully adjusting his throbbing dick in his pants.

“Hey the game’s starting!” Hoseok called, and the boys turned their attention to the TV.

While the announcer went on the normal spiel, Yoongi’s mind couldn’t escape the photos. For minutes he fought the urge to check his phone, but the growing boner had other plans. One more peek wouldn’t hurt, he argued.

He went to his Cloud, and found the 3 images resting at the top. He clicked them one by one, eyes caressing every pixel. His dick fought even harder against his underwear, begging for his assistance.

The fever of the game came to a peak when all the boys erupted in cheers. Yoongi jumped in his seat, seeing the others yell as the players ran across the screen.

It was nearing impossible to think. Yoongi suddenly stood up from the couch. He positioned his phone before the tent in his pants as he walked out of the living room.

“Where you goin? It’s just getting good!” Jimin called.

Yoongi hurried to his bathroom and opened the pictures again. He couldn’t undo his pants fast enough, and when he finally sprang free and wrapped his fingers around his cock he let out a shuttered breath. He stroked himself as he took in the pictures and everything they had to offer. Seeing the space between your thick thighs made precum dribble to his knuckles. He wanted to take you in the shower and feel you for real. He stroked himself faster.

The way you squeezed one of your breasts in your hands caused him to hold in a moan. The final picture was his favorite. The arch of your back as it led to your ass made his heart beat violently. He envisioned the time he fucked you from the back. The view of it bouncing back on him as you were pressed against the telescope made his eyes flutter close as he felt himself unwinding. He almost missed the toilet paper as he came moments later.

Yoongi took a deep breath and looked at his reflection. He was flushed and drained. It took every ounce of energy and self-respect to fix himself and return to the living room.

“Took you long enough, you missed the best free-throw of the season,” Namjoon said through a mouthful of pizza.

Yoongi flopped back on the sofa next to Hoseok. He felt dirty, like they could all smell his shame and fresh orgasm.

“Finally a commercial. Their entire defense needs to be benched...dude, are you looking at porn while I’m sitting right here?!” Hoseok screeched.

“What-?” Out of habit, Yoongi had gone to look at his phone again. But upon unlocking it, the image of your ass covered the entire screen.

Yoongi scrambled to close the app, but his fingers couldn’t work fast enough. In his frenzy he fumbled and dropped the phone onto the cushions.

“Hey, don’t be stingy,” Hoseok said, swooping in and kicking the phone off the sofa before Yoongi could grab it. He leaped away to put distance between them, eyes going wide, “Damn. This isn’t porn. The shitty quality and angle is pointing to personal nudes.”

Yoongi leaped off the sofa and went towards Hoseok.

“Let me be the judge of that,” Jimin said. Hoseok threw the phone across the room, and he plucked it from the air over Yoongi’s head.

Jimin whistled, “Shit...now this is how you take nudes.”

“Jimin. I’m not fucking playing with you give it b-”

“Wait, there’s more!” he cackled, scrolling through the others. He didn’t even look at Yoongi as he evaded him, jumping over the sofa and coffee table. He paused, eyes going wide as he swallowed. “Goddamn. She’s fine. What did you do to deserve nudes like this? Hey, look at this.”

Jimin jumped over to where Seokjin and Namjoon were standing. The oldest shifted to get a better look and Namjoon took his glasses off.

“Sheesh…” Seokjin’s mouth felt suddenly dry, “No wonder why you weren’t watching the game!”

Namjoon licked his lips, “Who’s even sending you these?”

Yoongi stormed over, but the leader took an instinctive step back, “Don’t fucking worry about it. Namjoon, give it back.”

Namjoon looked at the photo and then back at Yoongi, forehead creased with questions. Jimin snatched the phone from his hands.

“Yoongi got a girlfwend?” he asked in a baby voice.

“Give. It. Back.”

He didn’t dare go to Jimin again, he knew he’d only pass it to Hoseok.

“I mean he didn’t say no,” Seokjin added.

“Aww, why so bashful?” Hoseok doubled over in laughter.

Yoongi stood in the middle of the room, fists clenched by his side. He was nearly shaking with anger, and he met eyes with Namjoon who was the only one not howling like an idiot.

“Jimin, chill out. Hand him the phone back. The game is back on,” Namjoon said.

“Fuck the game, this is the best thing to happen all day!”

“Give it back or I’ll hang your entrails from the ceiling fan. Every single one of you," Yoongi seethed.

“Oh, be realistic. You can’t kill all of us,” he rolled his eyes.

Yoongi reached into the drawer under the coffee table and pulled out a trailing point combat knife.

“I’ll start with you,”

Jimin squinted, “Bullshit.”

Without hesitation, he threw the blade and made it land squarely in the opposite wall. Jimin touched his ear, and then looked down at his hand to see specks of blood from where Yoongi had clipped him.

Jimin’s shoulders dropped and after a moment of consideration he tossed the phone over.

“Learn to take a joke, asshole.”

Yoongi’s cheeks burned red, and the others cleared the way as he stomped back to his room and slammed the door.

____________________

You woke up when your head hit the car window.

“Shit,” you breathed, holding the sore spot in your groggy haze.

“Could you hit any more potholes, Jin? Fuck…” Yoongi cursed, sleep coating his voice.

“Wow, finally some company,” Seokjin said, “You’re acting like I made the damn roads, stop complaining.”

The three of you had begun your journey a little over an hour ago. Trees whizzed by your windows, and metropolitan skylines were slowly replaced with endless meadows and forests.

“Just when I thought we’d seen every inch of this region,” you said, “we end up in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere.”

Seokjin snorted, fiddling with the screen on his dashboard, “Heads up, we should be arriving in 5 minutes.”

You went to your weapons case and strapped a few knives and a glock to your belt. From the passenger seat, you looked in the rearview mirror back at Yoongi. His earlier words had been his only ones all day. Even when you had been picked up for the mission, he barely spared you more than a head nod. He sat in his seat, looking out the window at the passing greenery, unblinking.

You nudged Seokjin and tilted your head towards the man in the back.

Seokjin shrugged, ‘He’s been like that all day,’ he mouthed.

He didn’t look upset, but more pensive than anything. As if he was trapped in his thoughts without a way to escape.

“Alright we’re here,” Seokjin stopped the car on the side of a desolate road in the middle of the forest.

“Uh...where’s the cabin?” you asked.

“I forgot no one checks the mission coordinates anymore but me,” he sighed, “Well, this is as far as the road will let me go. My GPS is saying the cabin is about half a mile that way.”

He pointed through the thick trees at nothing,

“So you want us to...walk.”

“I know it’s not ideal, but it's not that far.”

The distance wasn’t your issue. From the look of the sky, the sun would be setting in a few minutes, and you would rather not walk through the woods in pitch blackness.

The three of you stepped out of the van. Seokjin grabbed a few drones from the trunk and after pressing some buttons, released them into the sky toward the cabin. He honestly hated the drones, but because the targets likely didn’t have a security system to be hacked, he had to survey the mission with what devices he had.

“I’ll be checking in,” he waved as you both began the hike, “You got this, piece of cake like always.”

The leaves crunched under your shoes as you walked in silence for a couple hundred meters. The darkness of night was beginning to catch up to you. You felt the animals scurry past your feet in their haste.

You turned to Yoongi, face overcasted by shadows.

“You okay?” you asked, “You’ve been quiet.”

He didn’t say anything, and you wondered if he would respond at all until he finally muttered.

“I’m fine. Just have a lot on my mind,” he looked straight ahead.

“Is it classes? The mission? It should be an easy one like Seokjin and Mr. Kim said,” you pried.

“I just can’t wait for the day to be over.”

You nodded, “I understand. I was wondering why they dispatched us for this mission, you know? I know that they sometimes like to test different combinations, but having two specialized combat positions for such a small call doesn’t make much sense to me.”

“I was wondering the same thing.”

“You know The Academy though, it’s probably just some sort of test.”

“Well then that’s pretty fucked up.”

You waited on him to elaborate, but the conversation drifted to another hush.

“Well...if you ever want to talk about it, just know I’m here if you feel like sharing.”

“‘kay.”

After a few minutes of painful silence, you both saw a light in the distance. You slowed down, taking in the neglected cabin. The wood was covered in moss, hanging together by a few bolts. It appeared to have been forgotten amongst the woods. You couldn’t imagine life inside.

“She’s a beauty, right?” you said, hidden in the shadows behind the trees, “Jin, we made it.”

“Great. I can see you both. Look up,” you glanced up at the night sky, and a drone came to hover over your heads.

Yoongi ran a hand through his hair, “So there’s three we need to take out. You sure they’re in there?”

“I don’t see anyone, but the lights are on. In the call, Mr. Kim said that they hadn’t left in a few days. From the notes, they just went in with a big crate and haven’t even gone outside since.”

A shadow suddenly went past the window, so quick it was almost unnoticeable.

“I saw someone,” he said.

You checked the weapons on your belt, “You ready?”

He nodded, “Make it clean, make it quick. Let’s go.”

You stalked towards the cabin, mere silhouettes in the dark.

“That window looks easy to open-” you whispered, but Yoongi was already making his way to the back door. You stopped, confused by his overly eager choice, but rushed to catch up. When you approached the door, Yoongi reared back and kicked the flimsy wood in. It burst open loudly, and you both charged into what appeared to be the kitchen. One of the drones flew inside. A man stood at the stove, bread in his hand as he turned to you both.

“Now, wait what the f-”

You recognized his face from the photos. Yoongi began to move towards him, but you were already in motion. With a few quick strides you closed the distance. You took the blade from your belt and made a fluid slash across the throat. It was seamless with no splatters- an angle you had worked to master for some time now. His body slumped down, joining the shadows casted on the wooden floor.

Yoongi looked down at the body, “I had it, you know.”

“Didn’t know you had claimed him, I was just trying to get it done. I’ll let you take the next one,” you said carefully.

He took in the nearly empty interior. No one else was in sight, and it was quieter than expected. You heard some faint motion close by, though it was hard to pinpoint.

You both slowly rounded the corner to see a door with steps leading downwards.

“Pat, hurry the hell up! We’re gonna start without you!” a voice called from the basement. Soon after came the sound of whimpers and muffled screams.

Footsteps led up towards you as someone climbed the stairs.

“God dammit, every time. Get down here!” said a man with a buzz cut. He froze when he saw you at the top of the stairs. Before he could react, Yoongi planted a foot in his chest, making the man fall and tumble down the stairs.

You rushed down, stepping over his groaning body at the base of the steps.

“Why wouldn’t you just take him out…then?” you began to ask your squad mate. Your hand was on your belt, ready to take out the man at the bottom of the stairs when you turned to see the rest of the basement instead. You felt your blood run cold at the sight before you.

In the basement was the 3rd target, a ceremonial mask covering his eyes. He was fiddling with the restraints of a woman sitting naked on the floor. They sat in the middle of a circle painted by what you had assumed to be blood.

“What the fuck?!” the masked man blurted. He jumped up, running towards a shotgun in the corner of the room. Before he could reach it you threw one of your knives. It landed in his hand, pinning him to the wall.

Yoongi stood by the steps, immobile with wide eyes. You followed his gaze to the woman. Her eyes had been covered with a scarf and mouth gagged with a rag. She cried, balling up on the floor to hide from the new unseen horrors she heard. On her wrist, a red circle glistened under the lights.

“Seokjin...the targets have a victim here,” you said tightly.

“What?!” the drone came down the stairs and paused next to you, “Oh god. The crate. She was here this whole time.”

“What the fuck do we do?!”

“I’ll call the police.”

“Police?! This can’t be a job for the Cleanup Crew?!”

“I’m already dispatching the cops. This wasn’t a part of the plan but they’ll take care of her. Just finish the job and get the hell out of there!”

Yoongi’s breathing was shallow. His legs shook under him as if they would give out at any minute. His vision never broke from the woman, eyes zeroed in with a laser focus.

Behind him there was a quick motion. The man at the stairs had picked up an axe, ready to swing at your squad mate. Yoongi didn’t move, unaware of his surroundings.

“Yoongi, watch out!” Seokjin warned.

You reached for the gun in your belt and fired two shots to the man’s forehead.

The shots snapped Yoongi out of his haze. He jumped, and turned to see the body tumble behind him. He looked at you in awe.

“I…” he tried, lost for words.

The final man had pulled the knife from his hand and slumped against the wall.

“Who are you?! W-who sent you?!” his voice shook.

Yoongi faced him slowly, jaw taut and far away. He advanced across the floor, closing the distance between them as the masked man screamed to spare his life.

Yoongi crouched down, eye level with him. He pulled the mask away, exposing a thin face and pleading eyes. Yoongi went for the long knife at his side.

“Please. Please, I’m begging you…”

Yoongi plunged the knife into the target’s chest. It went deep, piercing his heart. The man’s eyes went out of focus as life left him. Yoongi pulled the stained knife out, but didn’t place it back in his belt. He lurched the weapon forward again and again, stabbing so many times you lost count. He grunted with every dig long after the man had stilled. Crimson slowly spread across the man’s white shirt.

“Woah, stop!” you screamed. You grabbed his arm and pushed him back, “What the hell are you doing? It’s over!”

Yoongi’s face twisted in pain. He was shaking, looking at the body infront of him with a sense of stunning realization. Time caught up to him and the room realigned in his vision. He closed his eyes to collect himself.

He dropped the knife to grab his head.

The woman on the floor continued to cry, hyperventilating as she tried to force words through the gag. You moved over to her and she flinched. She looked to be in her late 20s- not much older than you if you had to guess. You racked your brain for a solution- you couldn’t take off her blindfold because then she would see your faces. If the cops were coming, you didn’t want to involve her with the repercussions of that, especially when The Academy would be involved. Though at the same time, you didn’t want to leave her stranded and tied up in the house with three dead bodies.

“Um, you guys, the police are here. They just pulled up about 100 meters behind me and are walking to the cabin now,” Seokjin said, “Get out while you can.”

“Shit,” you breathed. You slowly went to grab the rag from the woman’s mouth, and she craned away, “It’s okay, it’s okay, you’re safe. We’re not going to hurt you.”

“Please get me out of here. Please...” she cried.

“Okay, we will! They can’t hurt you anymore. The police are coming. Just let me untie you first,” you went to undo the rope, but paused, “But when I do I need you to stay calm and leave your blindfold on.”

“L-leave it on?” she asked, head whipping from side to side in her confusion.

“Trust me. If you can’t do that, I can’t untie you.”

“Okay,” she said, weakly.

With one glide of your knife she was free. She touched at the mark at her arm and her face contorted in agony at the burn. You could only imagine her suffering those few days.

“We gotta go!” you called to Yoongi, helping the young woman to her feet, “Now!”

Yoongi eventually pushed himself off the floor with unstable legs. He reached for a blanket hanging from the back of a chair, and handed it to you. You wrapped it around her as you guided her quickly up the stairs and past the men on the floor.

“Wh-who are you? Oh, god. Where are we going?” she struggled to hold herself up, and you and Yoongi supported most of her weight as you walked through the cabin.

“We’re just going outside,” you finally made it to the front porch, and she flinched when she was met with the night chill. You sat her down. Two drones glided outside and into the trees.

“So what now?” Yoongi whispered uneasily, “Do we just leave her here?”

“He said they’re on their way. She-” in the dark you heard rustling and voices. They weren’t too close, but earshot for you was close enough. You bent to her level, “Hey, the police are almost here. We’re gonna leave. Just...don’t uncover your eyes until we do.”

“Wait, no where am I? Don’t leave,” she pleaded.

“We’re just on the porch. We have to. I’m sorry.”

She moved her head to follow your voices, “Thank you. Thank you so much-”

“I see it!” called an officer in the distance.

With a final rub to her shoulder, you and Yoongi jumped off the porch and bolted into the dark forest. Looking back, you saw a group of officers run to the porch to assess her. She had taken off her blindfold and was looking around in a daze.

More officers were coming, and you both tried to run in silence while not being seen by their flashlights. You could barely see your hand in front of your face, the moon above your only guide. You ran hard, trying to not bump into trees while also checking the constellations above for the right directions.

Suddenly a flashlight crossed your vision, and Yoongi yanked you behind a tree.

You worked to catch your breath and listened for the officers to pass.

“Are we going the right way?” you whispered to him. He didn’t answer, instead looking at you with the same spacey, glazed stare from earlier, “What? And what the hell was that about back there anyway?”

“You saved my life…” he responded, his voice dreamy. His eyebrows joined together, relaying a focus that he didn’t seem to have. He seemed far away, but appeared to truly see you for the first time all night.

“Yeah, but Yoongi that wasn’t the question.”

Using his grip on your arm, he pulled you into him. His lips crashed onto yours in a messy, hard kiss. His hand went to tangle in your hair, knuckles meeting the root. You fought to understand in your haze. He grabbed your waist and tugged your body closer. You could feel the metal of the knives on his belt at your stomach, and it snapped you back.

You pushed his hand down and moved your face away.

“Yoongi, wh-”

Just then, there was a whiz above your heads as a drone flew above and past you. Both of you watched as it disappeared in the direction of Seokjin’s car. You met eyes again, but this time his expression mirrored the panic you felt.

“Oh no...” he muttered.

You didn’t want to think too much, only make it back to the car. If you really assessed the situation in your head, you knew you’d crumble.

You burst out running again, following the drone all the way until you saw the road. It was lit with shining police lights, and you finally saw the van hidden in the line of trees far ahead. When you reached it, you yanked open the door and threw yourselves inside.

“Finally!” Seokjin put the car in drive and whipped the wheel back out onto the road. As he fiddled with the navigation, you watched for any differences in his behavior. He sighed, “That was not supposed to happen.”

“What?” you blurted.

“What? The girl! Was she okay?”

“Okay? No. But the police got her,” you groaned, remembering, “The police. We called the fucking police to the sight of our mission.”

The Academy's Cleanup Crew always came after your missions to get rid of the mess and any evidence the squad may have left behind. The targets always simply “disappeared”. So calling the police to the scene before Cleanup could handle it was a nightmare in it’s own.

“I know, I know. It seems bad and it’s going to be a headache for me later but we had to do it for her. The Academy will probably have to make contact with local law enforcement again to cover our tracks, but they shouldn’t get her involved too much.”

“I really hope so,” you said.

“She...didn’t see you right?” he asked. You shook your head, “Good. That would have been a whole other problem.”

You used the rearview mirror to look at Yoongi. He was expressionless, and Seokjin followed your gaze, “Yoongi, you okay back there? Back at the mission…” you held your breath, “...it seemed like you lost focus. It was a bit of an...overkill, you think?”

You could tell Seokjin was trying to tread lightly. Though you wondered the same, as neither had seen such pointed aggression and bloodlust on a mission. Killing was always matter of fact- one and done. Never something to revel and bask in for too long.

“I just forgot where I was. That’s all,” was his reply.

The landscape turned into city, and Seokjin cursed when he saw his gas was low. He pulled into a dim gas station, and fiddled with a screen on a computer. It showed the woods and the cabin, and you watched as you stormed in after Yoongi kicked open the door.

“What are you doing?” you asked.

“Just making sure the drones picked up and recorded the feed from the mission,” Seokjin responded, absentminded as he clicked around.

“You recorded it?” you tried to remain calm, but you heard your voice climb an octave, “I thought you just watched in the moment.”

“Yeah I do but I can’t catch everything.”

“So...do you record with all of the drones?”

He snorted, “Duh, I use them to track patterns for my logs, you know that. And with the police involved this time, this footage will be really useful to me and The Academy later.”

“Of course,” you said, “Jin, I really need to be back home soon, could we hurry.”

He gave you a look, “Uh, sure.”

Seokjin got out to pump the gas and you looked between him and the monitor.

“Hey! While you’re out, could you go inside the convenience store and get me some chips or something. I’m really hungry.”

He scoffed “Who do you think I am? No. Get it yourself.”

“Please! You’re already outside. The mission took a lot out of me. I didn’t eat all day,” you begged, “Please, I’ll love you forever.”

He took a deep breath, “What flavor?”

“Surprise me.”

He muttered to himself as he walked toward the store. You shot to action, pulling down any tabs to find the right button.

“Fuck, do you think he saw us?” Yoongi leaned on your seat to get a view of the screen.

“I doubt it. He’s acting too normal.”

“Try that tab!” he reached over you, pointing. Your unease mounted with every word and direction he gave you, “No, not that one! Okay, try that one. Shit, he’s paying at the counter, hurry-”

“Yoongi!” you exploded, “Shut the fuck up!”

“I’m trying to help-”

“You did enough, don’t you think?! Jesus, just...I’ve got it! Give me a break. For fuck’s sake!”

He sat back down. After exhausting your options, you found a video file with the day’s date on it. You hit ‘Delete all’ and suddenly the video on the screen disappeared. You checked the trash and found nothing. You went to any other obvious folders in the confusing layout of his computer and came up empty.

You looked up to see Seokjin walking towards the car and you quickly restarted the laptop.

He opened the door and dropped two bags into your lap, “I didn’t know if you liked sour cream and onion or honey butter so I got both. Hey, what happened to my computer?”

“Thanks! Oh, it just restarted out of nowhere. It said something about needing an update and then just turned off.”

“What? No…” when it rebooted he went to his files. He searched in silence for a bit, face etched in confusion, “No, no, no. The footage from today’s mission is gone!”

“Huh? How?” you feigned, going to check for yourself.

“How does that even happen? I was sure I had it saved.”

“Damn, I’m sorry,” you said, “Is that the only copy you have?”

“Unfortunately. This day couldn’t get any worse.”

He pulled off from the gas station and continued back to the city. The whole time, ranting about his shitty computer and The Academy needing to give him another version. You grunted in agreement, and Yoongi remained silent the rest of the ride home.

___________________

After dodging her for months, it finally happened.

She couldn’t be more ecstatic when you said you were free for the night, jumping into action immediately with ideas of how to spend your time. It wasn’t like you had much else to do.

A few days had passed since the last mission in the woods, and you’d like to think you were doing a good job avoiding your squad members. You didn’t have anything against all of them, but being in their presence after the night you had was the last thing you wanted. It was rare to not hang out at least every other day, but the time alone was needed. You saw them in class and went straight home after despite their questions and protests. More and more unread and unanswered texts were piling up in your phone. You knew everything was alright- if they really needed you, you would know. You knew them too well. According to the text previews, you picked up that they went to grab drinks at the bar about an hour ago. A part of you wished you had gone, but the other knew the break was needed. So on this break, you finally gave Luna a shot. Spending the entire evening with the girl you hadn’t had a conversation longer than 5 minutes with was beyond your comfort zone.

Luna’s idea was to bake dessert. Consequently, you spent the time shuffling around each other in the small kitchen as she led the whole operation. She did most of the work, and you handed her ingredients as she rattled off. You learned that she was an Environmental Sustainability major. You honestly felt bad. You had been living with the girl for months and didn’t even know what she was going to school for.

You also learned that she really wasn’t that bad. She talked a lot, but she seemed to mean well. She was an only child like you, was allergic to cats, and hated the head cell biology professor with a passion. When you were both sitting on the living room floor borderline wine drunk and stuffed on cake, she only got more animated.

“He’s the worst! I kid you not, he almost made me drop out!” she cried. Her face was getting redder with every sip.

“Was he just a hard grader?” you laughed.

“Yeah but he also had the nerve to lecture and not share the slides online! If you missed 3 classes you just failed. He would embarrass you if you missed an answer,“ she counted off with her fingers. “Just trash!”

“He had the coffee breath too, right?”

She pointed at you, “Yes! The coffee breath! How could I forget that?! He made me want to break his nose then my own. Wait, did you have him too? What class?”

You shook your head. It felt a bit heavier than usual in your tipsiness, “I didn’t, but my friend Jin did and he said the same thing.”

“Ah, he’s in that group of guys you always hang out with, right?” you nodded, “How did you guys become friends? I’ve always wondered that.”

You shifted“I don’t know, we’ve just known each other for a really long time. We went through our more formative years together and just never let the other go.”

It may have been the wine, but you felt a pang of regret for ignoring them. Maybe you were doing too much.

“How can you stand being around them all day? They’re all so...hot,” she said, “You’ve never dated any of them before? Hooked up with them? None of them?”

“N-no, nothing like that. I can’t.”

“You can't?” She raised her brow, smirking, “Ah, so you would if you could?”

“No! They’re like my best friends, I couldn’t do it.”

“Not even the angry looking one that slept over that time?”

You stiffened, “You know about that?”

“Yeah, sorry I didn’t know it was a secret. I just saw him leaving one morning and assumed you were dating or something.”

“No, no, it’s not a secret or anything like that,” you rushed, “He had to sleep over because of the bad rain the night before. We’re just friends but its…”

��Complicated?” she asked.

“I mean...,” you laughed, “we’re just not really talking right now. But we’re still just friends.”

She tilted her head, looking at you with a wistful smile, “It's obvious they mean a lot to you.”

“They do. I couldn’t make it without them.”

Luna reached out to twirl a strand of hair between her fingers. Her gaze was suddenly intense as she held your eyes, “________, you’re a beautiful independent woman. You can make it without a man.”

Her stare was unnerving. The stoniness in her voice made a chill run up your back.

“I know, I’m just saying,” you turned your face away, laughing to hide your discomfort.

Your phone buzzed against your lap and you gave in to check. You wish you hadn’t.

------------------------

Yoongi: you home?

I know you see my messages

don’t ignore me

You: why what do you want?

Yoongi: I’m coming by

You: again, why?

Yoongi: I just want to talk

Pls

------------------------

You put your phone back down and sighed.

“What’s wrong?”

“Speak of the devil and he shall appear, right? The friend I’ve been avoiding is coming over and it looks like I can’t put it off anymore. I’m sorry...”

Luna pouted, “Ah, I see. Well it’s okay. It was fun to hang out while we could.”

You nodded, “Yeah, this was pretty great.”

There was a knock on the door. It was sooner than you expected. You pushed yourself off from the floor and went to the door. Yoongi stood on the other side, hands in his pockets and looking unusually hesitant.

You didn’t spare eye contact or words as you waved him in.

“Hey!” Luna waved from her spot on the floor. She gave you a knowing look.

You cleared your throat, “Luna, this is Yoongi. You met him before.”

Yoongi gave a tight smile, “Hi.”

“Ah, right! I’ve seen you around before. I went to your apartment that one time, right?”

His eyebrows furrowed, “Um, yeah, that was my place.”

You led Yoongi back to your room and Luna called after him, “Nice to see you again!”

When you closed the door there was an expected silence. You turned to really look at him for the first time. His eyes were glassy and his entire face was tinted-red. You realized he reeked of alcohol.

You looked him up and down, “Jesus, are you drunk? Do the boys know you’re over here?”

He just shook his head as he walked to your bed. He didn’t usually drink much, and when he did he was always one to at least act the most sober.

He tossed himself across the mattress, putting an arm over his eyes. He tapped the space next to him, an invitation. You placed your phone on your desk and sat on the edge of the bed. You contemplated calling one of the boys to come get him, but you knew all the questions would be redirected to you.

“What did you want to talk about, Yoongi?”

“Not yet,” he said. “I just want to stay like this for a while.”

You stared at him, but he stayed still. You went to stand up, and his free hand went to wrap around your waist, pulling you to lay beside him.

You were pressed against his body and began to push away despite how good him and his sweater felt against you, “We shouldn’t do this. You said you wanted to talk, so what?”

“Please,” he breathed, “Just stay.”

You relaxed, giving in only for a bit. He held on tight, arm still firm around you. You suddenly became aware of the state the wine had left you in. You were doing a better job of holding yourself together than him, but having his arms around you mixed with your own looseness was a combo your subconscious was too eager to accept. His breathing was steady as your ear rested on his chest, and after a while you thought he had fallen asleep. The ceiling fan whooshed above you, and as you waited the hypnotic spin made you lose track of time.

His voice broke the hush of the room.

“I’m so sorry, ______.”

“You gotta be more specific.”

“I meant what I said. I forgot where I was.”

“Yoongi, I can’t say he didn’t deserve it, but that’s never been us. You know that,” you gulped, “What happened?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know,” you repeated.

“I don’t. I went too far. I feel like...like I left myself,” he said in a low voice. Though you were unbearably close, he sounded so far away, “I swear I had no control for the first time ever. It was wrong. I know that. I couldn’t stop.”

“But...why?”

“I just lost sight of the mission. I put you in a bad place and you had to pick up the slack for my psychotic break, or whatever the hell that was, and I feel like shit for it. Hell, you had to save my life because I couldn’t fucking handle myself,” his voice broke as he desperately pushed the words out. “And the kiss,” he groaned. “I fucked up so bad. And you handled that too. It was a close call and it was all my fault. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. But I want to thank you for stopping me.”

It wasn’t lost on you that he didn’t really answer your question. In all of your years of knowing each other, you never knew him to be someone to lay his heart and regrets plain out on display for just anyone. Whether it was the alcohol or sheer pain that drove him to it, you didn’t know, but it was unsettling. You just wanted to know why. “I’m sorry for snapping at you like that.”

“I deserved every bit of that and more. I didn’t hold up my end at all, I just made problems.”

“I meant what I said earlier too, you know.”

“What?”

Your arms went to wrap around his waist before you could stop yourself. He relaxed in your arms and you couldn’t let go.

“Back in the forest. I’m still here if you need to talk, you know. We’re friends after all, Yoongi. I just don’t want you to hold that shit in if you don’t have to,” you moved your head to look up at him.

A painful smile made its way to him.

Yoongi went to nuzzle his nose in your neck. Your eyes fluttered closed until he whined.

“I wanna stay like this forever.”

You went stiff, “Forever? You know we...can’t.”

“I can dream can’t I?”

He didn’t seem to get it. If in his dreams he saw you being this way forever, he was more far gone than you believed.

He looked you over again, “You don’t want this forever?”

There was such sadness in his glazed eyes, it would hurt you too to say what you should have said. Instead you stayed quiet.

“I know it's wrong, I know there are rules, but I like us this way.”

“Don’t…”

“Why?” it was his turn to ask, lips grazing your warm neck.

“You know why...we just can’t.”

“But you like to be with me like this too, right?”

You didn’t even have to ask what “like this” meant.

“I don’t think either of us are in the right head space to make that call.”

“Beyond the fucking. This is something we can do more. Hell, is it so wrong to want to hold you?”

“It-it just blurs the lines even more,” you stammered when his nose traced your collarbone.

“Screw the blurred lines. Screw The Academy. I like us like this, _____. And secretly, I think you do too.”

You felt yourself short-circuiting, “I think the lines are important because without them I can’t understand what this is.”

He stopped to search your face again, “Well what do you understand?”

His eyes were so deep. When you answered you were trapped in them, “That I like this more than I should.”

When the answer left you, there was a curse in your sober subconscious. Though seeing his face soften from the wounded mask he wore earlier almost made you forgive yourself. Almost.

It happened slowly, unlike the others. You watched each other, letting your words hang in the air before the other moved. You were the first to close the distance, Yoongi soon followed. When your lips met in the middle there was no rushed crash, no hurry driven by lust. He held your cheek in the most gentle way. Your lips pressed against his, and for the first time there was no fight for dominance. Your hand went to the nape of his neck, pulling him closer in your already tight position. He rolled himself over you, holding himself up with both hands on either side of your head. Yoongi looked you over for a second before dipping his lips back to yours.

You rolled over again, your knees on either side of his torso as you straddled him. You grabbed his face in both hands and kissed him again. His hands went to your back, skin burning under his fingertips. You went to grab at the bottom of your shirt, and he stopped you.

“You don’t have to, you know?” he said, eyes searching yours.

“But I want to.”

He moved his hand and you raised your huge t-shirt above your head and discarded it onto the floor.

The look he gave you was one of such unfiltered admiration it scared you. His gaze raked across your naked upper body.

“You’re so beautiful,” he proclaimed in such a way your face became hot.

He pulled you down to him again. His large hands traced up your thigh slowly, making you remember your revealing shorts. His touch lit a flame under your skin wherever he touched. Though it wasn’t entirely desire that you felt. This was different. Something that made your chest feel warm and butterflies dance in the pit of your stomach.

“Was that the front door?” he suddenly asked.

“No,” you quickly dismissed him, groaning when his lips went back to your neck. The growing wetness in your panties was a distraction, but you tried your best to listen through your labored breaths.

He sighed, the puff tickling the sensitive skin. He whispered, nearly soundless “Shit...I just like you so much.”

You froze.

You slowly pushed yourself up. Looking down at him, even through the alcohol he seemed to know he had crossed a line.

“You what?”

_________________

When Jungkook left the bar with the others, he was surprisingly sober. He had downed 3 beers and a tequila shot without an issue and was actually disappointed. Getting wasted would have been nice considering the trash week of classes he was having and not remembering the grade he just got on his last quiz would have been the cherry on top.

“What’s been going on with him anyways? You all noticed, right?” Hoseok asked, arm around Namjoon’s shoulder.

“How could we not? He barely said shit the whole night,” Jimin said, “How do you get shitfaced and then get up and leave? That’s just sad.”

“Did he even say where he was going?” Taehyung asked.

“No, but it's not like we have to worry about him handling himself.”

“I should check on him,” Namjoon said, “He’s been acting off for almost a week.”

“Check on _____ while you’re at it. She’s been off too.”

“You sure she’s not just finally tired of us? I wouldn’t blame her,” Seokjin said.

The others were making their way back home and Jungkook stopped to linger on the sidewalk. If he continued down this street and made a right, he’d be at your place, he noted. He suddenly remembered what you owed him.

“What?” Taehyung burped.

“You can go back, I’ll catch up later. ________’s still got my baby.”

“Whatever,” he gave a peace sign and ran to catch up to the rest.

As Jungkook walked under the dim street lights, he couldn’t help but wonder about you. After Yoongi left the bar, Seokjin had told them that the last mission was a rough one, partially because of Yoongi. This wasn’t new though, you had all seen your fair share of fucked up shit over the years. So it didn’t make sense for you to ignore everyone for days on end over it.

He looked at the texts he had sent you. None of them were opened.

-----------------------------

Jungkook: Stop ignoring me I’m coming over rn

U better be home

If not im breaking in 😜

-----------------------------

When he finally made it to your place, he pounded on the door. When it opened he readied to walk in, but he stopped when he saw the person on the other side.

“Hi?” Luna asked.

Jungkook forgot she lived there too, “‘Sup?”

“Oh, you’re _________’s friend, right?”

“Yeah, is she here?”

“Yeah, come in,” Luna stepped aside as Jungkook took his shoes off, leaving them beside a pair that was too big for either of the girls that lived there. He didn’t notice, “She might be a little busy though.”

Jungkook’s eyebrows joined in confusion. Like that actually mattered to him, “Uh, okay? Where is she?”

Luna pointed down the hall, “Back in her room.”

“Cool, thanks.”

Luna went back to her own room and Jungkook followed her directions down the dark hallway. He had to stop himself from salivating as he pictured what was soon to be his. He seized the handle of your door and thrust it forward.

“Ha! Can’t ignore me now, can you?”

He blinked a few times thinking something would change. In the time void the bedroom had become, everything stayed the same.

You were still mounting Yoongi.

Yoongi still held a handful of your ass.

Your bodies were still entangled in the sheets.

You were still topless.

The scene never changed.

But Jungkook wished it had.

Previous Next

_________________________________________________________

Thanks for reading like always! Feel free to lmk your thoughts 👀

#bts smut #bts angst #bts fanfiction #yoongi smut #did #the danger in duality #namjoon #seokjin #yoongi #hoseok #jimin #taehyung #jungkook #bts x reader #bts au #kpop fanfic

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wanderingcas · 5 years

Text

@bekindplsrewind prompt: Found the phone number of an old childhood friend in some box at the back of the closet and decided to call it to see if it still worked AU. in other words: dean is afraid of phones destiel. 1.7k. fluff & phone shenanigans.

“How did you accumulate all this junk?” Sam asks. He punctuates the point by throwing a pink crop top that says “Real Women Lift Weights” at Dean’s face.

“This isn’t junk,” Dean protests, “this was from my junior year in high school.” He carefully puts the crop top on the bed, letting out a sigh. “What a time of sexual discovery.”

“God, Dean. The fact remains—” Sam dives in deeper into Dean’s closet, on his hands in knees, pushing boxes and clothes across the floor at random, “—that Mom is showing this house on Wednesday, and no one is going to want to even consider buying it with all your cluttered crap all over the place.”

Dean snatches a Spock figurine off the floor before Sam’s knee collides with it. “Your room was worse.”

“Yeah, but I cleaned it.”

Making a face at the back of his brother’s head, Dean sits cross-legged on the ground. “Fine. But I’m the final say on what’s garbage or not.”

“We’re never getting out of here,” Sam sighs. But he reluctantly passes Dean a small shoebox anyway.

Dean opens it and sneezes. It clearly hadn’t been opened since before he had to start shaving on a regular basis. He rifles through the contents: colorful paperclips, a note that a cute girl had written to him in eighth grade, a small notebook that had SAM RULES written on the front that was crossed out and modified to SAM SMELLS. Dean chuckles and launches the notebook at Sam’s head.

Not stooping to Dean’s tactics to derail the cleaning situation, Sam calmly slides another Nike shoebox in Dean’s direction.

“You’re no fun,” Dean mutters, taking the top off of the shoebox. He pauses.

The polaroid picture staring at him from the bottom of the box all but slams into his brain, making him remember the moment like it was yesterday. Him and Cas had found a polaroid camera at a neighbor’s garage sale, but instead of buying it, they held it under their chins and took a picture with it, stealing the picture and running away with it. They giggled in Cas’ tree house as the photo slowly revealed their chins, stuck-out tongues, and wayward eyes drawn into obnoxious faces.

“Who’s that?” Sam asks over Dean’s shoulder. Dean jumps almost a foot in the air.

“Jesus, Sam, warn a guy.” Dean hastily shoves the picture back into the box. “And you remember Cas, you dumbass.”

“I was only four, Dean, give me a break,” Sam says. “That’s the kid you hung out with in Dad’s neighborhood before he sold the house, right?”

Dean softly scoffs. ‘Before Dad went off the alcoholic deep end and lost the house in a foreclosure,’ was more accurate. John had ghosted soon after that, leaving Mary with full custody of Sam and Dean. Her neighborhood was across town from Cas’.

“The last time I saw him was probably… I dunno…” Dean whistles through his teeth. “Probably when I was eight or nine.”

“I remember when you tried to run away to see him once,” Sam says. “You got a garbage bag full of your stuff and everything.”

Dean chuckles. “Yeah, and Mom just watched me drag that thing down the street until the bag ripped and I had to come home.”

“Overdramatic,” Sam says with a grin.

“Whatever, like you were an angel.” Dean rifles around in the box for more Cas-related stuff: broken, smoothed-over green glass they found by a creek that they were convinced were priceless jewels (they weren’t), an old broken ping pong ball they thought was a bird’s egg (again, it wasn’t), notes from Cas that were passed to Dean during class.

And a phone number.

Dean remembers the number as soon as he reads it: 555-9875. Cas had told Dean that if they ever get in trouble, or move away, they have to remember each other’s phone numbers so the other person can help. “Even when we’re adults!” Cas proclaimed from atop the slide, arms outstretched before he tumbled off the side (he did that a lot, climbing to high places, and making Dean’s too small heart already having premature attacks from fear).

“You should call it,” Sam says, again prying his big nose into Dean’s personal business.

“What? No way. It probably wouldn’t even work.”

“I dare you,” Sam offers.

“Jesus, Sam, how old are we?”

“Fine.” Sam crosses his arms. “If you call that number, I will clean out most of this closet myself, and you won’t have to lift a finger.”

Dean considers. He looks down at the frayed, yellowed paper. It’s been twenty years. It’s likely that the number is disconnected, or belongs to someone else.

“Deal,” he decides, whipping out his cell phone. “But you can’t throw away anything, okay? Not without my say.”

“I’ll get a box,” Sam sighs, rising to his feet.

Dean waits until Sam stomps out of the room before carefully dialing the number. He holds it to his ear and waits, hearing his own heartbeat vibrate the receiver.

One ring. Two. Three, until—

“Hello?” asks a voice.

Dean hesitates. It’s male, but couldn’t possibly be Cas, because the Cas he remembers had an obnoxiously pipsqueak voice, not this gravelly one that sounds like the guy just got finished chewing nails for breakfast. “Uh, hey,” he says.

There’s a beat too long of silence. “Can I help you?” the man asks again.

“Oh, yeah, well. Uh. I was just wondering—does Cas Novak still live there?”

“This is he.”

Dean’s face freezes. He gapes at Sam who has just walked back into the room. Sam’s mouth moves into a silent “What?” while Dean frantically gestures at the phone and yells silently “Cas! CAS!”

“Hello?” Cas asks over the receiver.

Sam, saving the day as usual, does a dive toward Dean and smacks him over the head with a box to stop his panic attack in its tracks.

“Oh, awesome.” Dean clears his throat. “It’s, uh—it’s Dean. Dean Winchester. I… yeah.”

The wariness in Cas’ voice is completely dropped when he repeats, “Dean? Oh my god.”

“You remember me?” Dean blurts out.

“Of course I remember you, I—” Cas laughs. Dean breathes in sharply. “This is so strange, I’m just here helping my mother move and the phone rings and—” He laughs again, more airy and bewildered. “It’s great to hear from you. What’s it been, twenty years?”

“Something like that,” Dean says. “You know, we’re moving my mom out of her house too. Must be a ‘moving your mother’ convention in town.”

Across the room, Sam groans and holds his head in his hands.

But Cas laughs, miraculously, and says, “Must be. Do you still live in town?”

“Uh, yeah. You?”

“Yes. I moved away for college, of course, but now I’m back.”

Dean smiles down at the floor. He picks at a thread of carpet. “Remember when we made a pact to go to the same college?”

“I do. In Australia, if I remember correctly.”

“Did you go to Australia?”

“No,” Cas chuckles. “Did you?”

Cheeks coloring, Dean stutters, “Uh, well, the college route—it wasn’t for me. So that’s a negative.”

“College is an ample waste of time, I don’t blame you,” Cas says. There’s a noise in the background that Dean can’t quite identify. “Dean, I’m sorry to cut this short, but my mother needs help dealing with the movers.”

“Oh, sure, Cas, no prob.” Dean looks up at Sam, who is gesticulating wildly, miming out a pen and paper like a crazy person. “Do you uh…”

“Dean—” Cas says at the same time. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

“No, you go,” Dean says, smacking his forehead with a palm.

“I was just—I was wondering if you wanted to get coffee. Maybe catch up. I know it’s been a while, but—”

“Yes!” Dean blurts out. He gapes at Sam, who is giving him a very enthusiastic thumbs-up. “Yeah, uh—that’d be awesome, Cas.”

He can hear the smile in Cas’ voice when he says, “Wonderful. I’ll give you my number.”

Sam digs in his pocket and flicks a pencil at Dean’s head. Dean quickly scribbles down the number Cas gives him over the phone, on the yellowed paper just under Cas’ childhood one.

“So I’ll just text you some times and days, then?” Dean asks.

“That’d be wonderful.” Cas pauses. “Thank you for calling, Dean.”

“Uh, sure, Cas. Thank you for, uh. Answering, I guess.”

Cas laughs. Dean could listen to that laugh for days. “Goodbye, Dean.”

“Ciao, Cas.” Dean flips his phone shuts and yells at it, “CIAO? Who the fuck do I think I am!?”

“We’re looking him up on Facebook!” Sam declares, making a nose-dive for his backpack. He yanks out his turn-of-the-dark-ages laptop and begins to wildly type.

Dean lays on the ground and pulls the pink crop top over his face. “That was the fucking worst thing I’ve ever done,” Dean declares.

“What’s his last name?”

“Novak,” Dean groans into the fabric. “I’m gonna text him, but he won’t text me back, because who would text back a psychopath that just randomly calls your childhood best friend’s phone number—”

“Dean,” Sam says.

“—and what if he’s the psychopath, or worse, not even Cas and he was just pretending and I meet up with him and get killed or worse he steals Baby and—”

“Dean,” Sam barks.

“What,” Dean yells back, flinging the crop top off his head.

Sam turns the laptop around and taps, hard, on the screen. “Dean, your childhood best friend is hot.”

Squinting, Dean raises his head toward the Facebook page sprawled out on the screen. There’s a picture of a very blue-eyed, very chiseled, very dark-haired man smiling in his profile picture. Dean can immediately match the voice to the face—he even recognizes remnants of young, eight-year-old Cas in between those smile lines—and his soul leaves his body for a moment.

“I need to text him immediately,” Dean says, wide eyed, to Sam.

“You need to text him immediately,” Sam agrees.

(Dean does, of course, after many beers and a lot of texting with subsequent deleting. It’s a story that Sam loves to tell at Dean and Cas’ wedding, a few years later.)

#destiel #destiel drabble #inacatastrophicmind #starsmish #woefulcas #spncreatorsdaily #mowripro #wanderingwrites #anyway there it is #*flings it into the universe*

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lia-jones · 4 years

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Growing Together - Chapter Ten - How Far We've Come

Victor watched her from afar as she fumbled with the zipper of her dress. He found her adorable, lightly scoffing at herself, her small hands trying to position to a good angle to get the job done, while she carefully watched herself in the mirror.

He mischievously stood in the distance, concealing himself from her, letting her fend for herself a little longer while he observed. This was his guilty pleasure, a small moment that was only his, when she was alone, oblivious to his presence, lost in a secret dialogue with herself. He drank every one of her expressions, how she silently scolded herself when she failed to do what she intended, how she would secretly pat herself in the back when she finally achieved it.

Eventually, feeling he had had his daily fix, he walked up to her and placed his hands on top of hers, still trying to pull the zipper.

“Need help?” He couldn’t help the slight amusement in his voice.

“Ugh. Yes.” She scoffed, turning her back to him so he could help her. “These dresses are so needlessly complicated. I’m always afraid I’ll pull too hard and rip the fabric.”

“That’s why husbands were invented.” He joked. “To help their clumsy wives zip their dresses.”

“Is that so?” She played along. “I thought it was to change tires.”

“No, that’s why road assistance was invented.” He quipped.

“Right, I’ve never seen you change a tire ever.” She turned and placed her hands on his chest, looking pensive. “Hm. I got myself a faulty husband.” She teased.

“And I got myself a wife that can’t reach the top shelf without help.” He smirked. “Life isn’t perfect.”

“How dare you?” She smacked his chest, making him chuckle. “That’s it, you’re sleeping on the couch tonight.” She went to look for her purse, pretending to be offended.

“Tonight is a big night.” He changed the subject. “Feeling nervous?”

“I think, at this point, feeling nervous is pretty much my normal state.” She laughed at her own exaggeration. “Ok, honestly, how do I look?”

The deep green satin dress looked stunning on her. The lace on the corset hugged her breasts in a perfect and elegant way, and the backless design showed her soft skin, the one he loved to kiss in their most intimate moments. He softly ran his fingers on her back, anticipating the events that would follow the gala.

“Honestly?” He pulled her closer, whispering wet in her ear. “Breathtaking.”

Inside the limousine, on their way to the ceremony, he heard her laugh, looking at her phone.

“Just look at this.” Andrea showed him the screen. He immediately identified Guy, Xavier and Mr. Mills in Guy’s restaurant, toasting with red wine, a caption below the picture that said: Á belle Andrea! Felicitations!

“That was heartwarming.” He quipped. “Remind me to send them something to thank them for the support.”

The beautifully decorated ballroom was brimming with warmth and life, and Victor could hear in every corner people engage in interesting conversations about religion, economy or politics. The greatest minds of Loveland were gathered into that very same place, and anyone that was remotely interested in drinking a little bit of knowledge was bound to have a very bountiful night.

Victor and Andrea were received with honor and enthusiasm by the GESA president and his assistant, Andrea being treated almost like royalty. True to herself, his wife was impervious to all the flattery, as she still couldn’t place herself among the great. Victor knew that was her greatest weapon: because she never felt like she was finally arriving, she would never stop walking. And because of that, no one knew how far she would walk.

As they sat at their table and Andrea, the eternal social butterfly, chatted idly with some guests, Victor let his mind wander to years before. Two years before, to be exact, when he didn’t know she would be his, and she didn’t know she would be brilliant. But on that specific day, he saw something on her that told him she would go far. And how.

It was a Saturday morning, and he was visiting Loveland’s Public Library. The Mayor had invited him under the pretense of showing his last monetary donation had been used, but Victor was no fool. He was perfectly aware that the politician was after another donation. Still, he let himself be led by the man through the many floors of the building, pretending to be unaware of his true intentions. It wasn’t like he had better plans anyway, and he knew how important his donations were, especially to students that couldn’t afford the books that their classes demanded.

“This should interest you since it’s your field.” The Mayor announced as they arrived at the Economic Sciences floor. “We are proud to say that, thanks to your generosity, we have an extensive collection of books and manuals. As you can see by how busy this place is, many students come here to study and research during the weekends.”

Victor took a look around at the place, and just like the Mayor said, all the tables were occupied with laptops and books, the people sitting at them engaged in stimulating conversations. Most of these people weren’t born with a silver spoon on their mouths like he had, and thanks to something that required little effort from him, they could study and work for a better life. Victor couldn’t think of a better use for his money. Enjoying a sudden feeling of accomplishment, Victor was about to leave to visit the next floor, when something caught his eye. At the end of the room, by the corner, was that Portuguese girl that worked for him, the one he had hired just a couple of months ago, Andrea.

His heart gave the alarm, pounding heavily, giving the rest of his body all sorts of instructions. He could feel something inside him flutter, his breath becoming faster, his palms starting to sweat. He had no idea why that woman caused such a reaction in him, the only time he spoke to her was during her interview, and he sure wasn’t going to let himself get all flustered for someone he barely knew. So he took a discreet deep breath, trying to regain control, telling his own body to quit the nonsense.

Despite it all, there was no harm in staying for a little longer and observing her. He was naturally interested in studying people’s behavior, especially the people that worked for him. It was not like he was staying behind to look at her, per se, he just wanted to know what she really was like. He could even say it was a precautionary measure, no more than that. With that thought firmly in mind, because there was obviously no other reason to do what he was about to do, he turned to the Mayor.

“If you don’t mind, I would like to take the time to explore this place a little bit further. Alone. I’ll meet you in the lobby.”

Before the Mayor could retort, Victor turned his back on him. Taking a random book from one of the shelves, he sat on a corner where he could see her but was sure she couldn’t see him. It would be enjoyable to just sit and read for a while, enjoy the ambiance, he told himself. No, this had nothing to do with her at all.

However, Victor realized that he had no idea if the book he was holding was actually interesting. He was yet to read a word of it. Instead, his eyes kept stubbornly drifting back to her, curious to see what she was doing.

Her table was full of books, her open laptop, and a notebook ridiculously filled with colorful sticky notes. She looked different than usual, wearing casual jeans and a navy blue sweater, her curly hair in a messy bun that a pencil kept in place. She was laser-focused on her work, apparently taking quotes from one of the books and typing them on her laptop, making the occasional annotation on her notebook. The several empty cups of coffee at her table indicated she had been working since quite early, probably the whole morning.

Victor realized that, much to his surprise, a feeling of pride was growing inside him, and he simply put it aside, like he did with most of his feelings. He had nothing to be proud about, she was merely an employee, no one of relevance in his life. Besides, for all he knew, she was working hard but failing miserably, making all sorts of unforgivable mistakes.

Still, he had to admit, her effort was remarkable. Most people slept in on Saturday mornings or spent their weekend resting or entertaining themselves with ludic activities, and yet she was there, buried in books for who knew how long. Furthermore, Victor knew the previous day had been hard for her, as Ted had told him that they left the company close to midnight, due to a problem one of his clients had. Regardless, she was there. It was ridiculous for Victor to feel proud of her, but completely understandable if he experienced at least a shred of surprise.

She stopped her work, reading the covers of the books she had on her table, and frowning. She suddenly got up from her table and walked to the librarian’s desk. Without a second thought, Victor followed her.

“Excuse me.” He heard her call the librarian. “Do you by any chance have “The Theory of Development”, by Aidan Thorpe?”

Victor knew that book. It was a study published in the ’90s that had caused immense controversy, so further editions had been canceled, remaining only the first printed copies. Victor had purchased it for his personal collection and found it brilliant. It was interesting that Andrea was also using it.

The librarian struck a few keys on her computer and shook her head, Andrea’s face falling, disheartened. Thanking the woman, she turned to leave, absorbed in her thoughts. In fact, so absorbed that she wasn’t minding where she was going and bumping-

On him.

“Oh God, it’s you!” She jumped back, looking slightly frightened. “I mean, good morning, Sir. And I’m sorry.”

It was obvious to Victor that she became deeply uncomfortable with the sight of him. That quickly put him in a bad mood.

“Watch where you’re going.” Victor scolded her, although he didn’t mean to. “Looking for Thorpe’s work? It’s incredibly hard to find.”

“I know.” She sighed. “There was a copy at Calouste Gulbenkian, back at home, I’ll try to see if I can get any copies of it.” She tucked a curl behind her ear, not looking him in the eye.

“Interesting fashion choice.” He mocked, pointing to the pencil in her hair. “Is that how young people use stationery these days?”

“I forgot my hair tie.” She seemed unamused. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to work. Enjoy your weekend.”

Victor had no choice but to watch her and she hurriedly walked to her table, gathering all her things and leaving in a rush. She obviously couldn’t stand him. But then again, he knew he wasn’t all that loveable, being a business mogul comes with a price, and for the most part, he was willing to pay it. Yet, he couldn’t shake the sadness to see her leave like that.

Back at his apartment, Victor found himself staring at his bookshelf. Something was brewing inside him, he could feel it, but he was too much of a coward to look at it. He had been hurt before. He needed to tread lightly.

But she needed this. And it was so easy to give it to her. Was he really the kind of person that would disregard someone’s need for the sake of self-preservation? With a decided scoff, he took the book off his shelf and placed it on his coffee table. On the inside of the cover, he wrote a few words, closing it immediately.

He took his phone and dialed the number. She could never know.

“I will give you the donation you need.” He spoke, eyes focused on the book. “However, I have a special request.”

“Is everything ok?” He heard her ask. “You’re awfully quiet.”

“What? Are you done listening to Frank’s dissertations about his trips to Namibia?”

“I find them interesting actually.” She came close to him, whispering in his ear. “But the man does talk a lot .”

They both chuckled privately, as they watched from the corner of their eyes the said guest go on another tirade, gesticulating furiously. He lovingly took his wife’s wrist, the one where she wore her charm bracelet.

“You’re wearing it today.” He twirled the V charm between his fingers, proud to have her show that part of him.

“I wear it every day.” She gave him a confused frown.

“I assumed you wouldn’t today, fearing it wouldn’t go with the dress.”

“It’s part of me.” She touched the bracelet on her wrist like it was her favorite thing in the world. “I could never take it.”

He took his wife’s hand again, kissing the back, the softness of her skin and her scent making his heart swell. He loved how she proudly wore his gift, the testimony of their life together like it was her lucky charm, her source of strength.

She was very fond of symbols and superstitions, and although Victor was more of a logical man, even he had to admit the power objects seemed to have in summoning the best in someone, or their worst.

He could still remember that Sunday afternoon, after taking her out to lunch. He was at her place, baking cookies, while she worked on her study.

“It smells delicious.” She commented from the table, as he took the cookies from the tray to cool.

“It will only take another ten minutes. Are you ready for a break? I’ll boil some water for tea.”

“Yes, please.” She stretched her body, stiff from sitting so long. “I’ll clear the table.”

As the water boiled and the cookies cooled, he helped her clear the table of all books and sticky notes she had laying around, spotting the book he had donated to the library. He held it in his hand with a smile.

“That one belongs to the library.” She explained. “I should return it soon, but the librarian says I can keep it as long as I want, and to be honest, it’s breaking my heart to have to return it. I may buy it from them.”

“Why is it so special?” Victor smiled, hoping his expression wouldn’t give away his secret.

“The previous owner wrote this on the cover, see?” She opened the book, showing him the inside of the cover. “Probably for motivation. And you know what? Every time I feel overwhelmed, I look at that inscription, and I feel stronger. It does work.”

Victor couldn’t have guessed the impact his words on a cover of an old book could have on her life, but he was glad to be a positive influence in her work, even if disguised. The following week, while on a business trip, he texted her.

You no longer need to return the book. It’s yours.

“Why do I feel so nervous? I already know I won.” Andrea commented as they started announcing the awards.

“Is it because of the speech?” He held her hand. “If you forget it, just speak from the heart.”

“And now, ladies and gentleman,” a voice announced, “to present the award for Most Promising Mind in Economics… Professor Chauncey Williamson.”

Andrea froze on her seat. It was the teacher that gave her an incredibly hard time when she was defending her doctorate thesis. The professor climbed the stairs to the stage, taking the microphone.

“Ladies and gentleman, good evening.” He started. “Most of you don’t know this, but Mrs. Lee and I share a piece of history together, when she was still Miss Jones. In fact, I was one of the teachers invited to evaluate her thesis. I must admit that, while back in the day I considered Miss Jones too good to be true , Mrs. Lee has not failed to disappoint. Her ongoing study shows a lot of promise and raises many important questions, which is why it is my greatest honor to give the winner for Most Promising Mind in Economics, Dr. Andrea Lee!”

Andrea turned to her husband, pecking him on the lips, before getting up to deliver her speech.

“Go get them.” Victor whispered, before he saw his wife walk towards the stage.

“I have to admit, Dr. Williamson, I wasn’t such a fan of you back then, but I kind of like you now.” She joked, and everyone in the audience laughed. “First of all, I would like to thank GESA for this honor and its juri, and all of the present here for sharing this moment with me. I am deeply honored. There is a saying, no man is an island. And this is particularly true for this award, because, as you may imagine, I didn’t win it on my own. I’d like to thank my husband, who has been with me since day one, who believed in me even when I didn’t believe in myself, and made sure I was supported in every step of the way. I love you handsome, and I’m so grateful for having you in my life.”

Victor found himself close to tears, the pride and emotion being too much to bear with a straight face. He mouthed I love you too to his wife, although he knew words wouldn’t be able to convey the warmth he felt in his heart.

“I’d also like to thank my family and friends, for putting up with my absence and moods when I was too busy, you guys are the best, and I wouldn’t trade you for the world. I also want to thank my team, who worked relentlessly and believed in my project, taking hours and hours of their personal time so we could make the deadline we had defined. And lastly, I want to thank who I like to call my silent supporter.” Andrea’s voice faltered slightly with the emotion. “You see, when I was just starting to write my thesis for my doctorate, and I couldn’t afford expensive books for reference, I had to use the Loveland’s Public Library. There was a book that I needed, The Theory of Development, by Aidan Thorpe, and that the library was kind enough to let me take home temporarily for consultation. Inside the cover of that book, there was a quote that said The best view comes after the hardest climb. I have to say, that quote changed my life. Every time I felt disheartened, or tired, or felt like giving it up completely, I would go to that book and read that quote, and I found myself strong again. I don’t know who you are, and maybe you won’t listen to my speech, but I want to say to the world that your words gave me strength, and you are also a reason why I’m here. Thank you.”

Victor smiled as he applauded her speech, his heart feeling so big that it could barely fit in his chest. He would never tell her that the book was actually from him, and he was the one who wrote those words, although she could easily figure it out by his handwriting. He would keep it secret like his own personal treasure, the knowledge that he had been her supporter since even before she knew, that he loved her even before she loved him. This was for him and him alone. His guilty pleasure.

That day was a memorable day in their lives, and Victor couldn’t help to trace back all the events that led to it. How she started as a not so shy intern at Loveland, but so unaware of her potential. How even when faced with major difficulties, her past being all over the media, her career being on the line, she never gave up. How she bravely stood up to her abuser, and his father, and anyone who was unjust or had hurt someone significant in her life. If he had to describe his wife with a handful of adjectives, two of them would certainly be brave and relentless.

Later that night, he sat in his living room, nursing a glass of brandy and watching the city skyline, like he did many times when he was too overwhelmed by his own thoughts. Feelings like pride and love filled his heart, but there was one he could not shake off: sorrow. He had never seen his wife give up on anything, except for the thing she wanted the most. She had come so far, improved her life in so many ways, healed from the past, but there was one thing that still stung her heart: the fact that she would never become a biological mother.

As his loving husband, Victor decided that it was his duty not to let her give up on her dream, or better, their dream. He had seen her barely recover from their last try, and his heart feared that mentioning the subject again would reopen old wounds, but he couldn’t let her fold like that. There were still options. They still stood a chance.

“The bed is cold without you.” He heard her complain from the door.

“Come here.” He extended his arms to her. “I’ll warm you up.”

She sat on his lap, running her fingers through his hair.

“You’re drinking alone in the dark.” She looked at him with worried eyes. “Is something upsetting you?”

“Just lost in thought, that’s all.” He leaned his head against her chest.

“Anything in particular?” She kept combing his hair with her fingers. Victor closed his eyes, enjoying her care.

“How far we have come. How we were before, how we are now.” He mumbled.

“We did come a long way, didn’t we?” She was reminiscing. “I remember my trip to Loveland. It felt like navigating uncharted waters. I have changed so much since then.”

“Why did we give up? We never give up.” He looked up to her, knowing he didn’t need to specify. The look in her eyes told him she understood.

“I can’t give you a child, Victor.” She answered weakly.

“But we can have one. We can adopt. She may not be our blood or share physical characteristics, but we will love her. She will be ours, be a Lee, all the same.”

Andrea watched him lovingly as he spoke, tears brimming her eyes.

“I don’t want to give up just yet.” This time, it was his turn to ask. “Will you do this with me?”

“Yes.” She smiled as she let a tear fall. “I will.”

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