#like if you told me this was all a weird fever dream I’d believe you

[kerrikins]

[thatbanditqueen]

Basic Training Ch 3

A response to the prompt: "You're staring." Thanks to my harem cohort @vintageshanny @missmaywemeetagain @ellie-24 @from-memphis-with-love @be-my-ally @powerofelvis and @whositmcwhatsit

Summary: Bess heads to the dance the Morale, Welfare and Recreation Committee for the 37th armored tank division is throwing, and manages to avoid dancing with the most notorious soldier on post, who cannot seem to take his eyes off her.

Warnings: None! Wait, kissing. Swear words. This may be the slowest burn yet. Probably typos, I wrote about 1K words over the last three days and then the rest in a fever dream. So.... may not make sense. Also I am pretty sure the first phase of basic training would not have them in tanks yet, but....I am playing fast and loose with Army life in this one.

Word Count: 5. 3 K

This is my newest WIP, please like, comment, reblog and tag and let me know what you think. Thank you for reading.

You can catch up on the previous chapters here

Basic Training Chapter 3: Just Kiss Me

Saturday, April 5, 1958

7:30 p.m.

The Schwartz Residence, Killeen

Just as her shoe hit the bottom stair, Bess realized she had left her lipstick in her room and was turning back around to grab it when she saw Kay sitting in the living room, dressed in a pink cocktail dress. Her puffy crinoline skirt was gathered in a heap around her as she shifted in place, adjusting her pearl necklace.

“Um, where do you think you are going?”

Kay looked up, tucking her brown hair behind her ear as she eyed the tight, fitted sheath dress Bess was wearing. She smiled at how the white sequins and embroidered red flowers glowed iridescent in the dim light and whistled low.

“Who are you dressing up for? The guy who you snuck in last weekend?”

“What makes you think there’s a guy, Katherine, honestly. I don’t sneak men into our house.”

“Uh huh,  so you’re all gussied up in your favorite dress just for a bunch of enlisted soldiers?”

Kay grabbed her purse and followed her sister to the door.

“Why are you being weird Bess, I always come with you? You’ve been going to army dances since you were sixteen. I’m about to graduate, plus, I told Dickey I’d meet him there.”

Bess sighed, thinking of Kay’s latest boyfriend. She supposed that she should be happy because he seemed like a harmless nerd, and, according to the files she had pulled on him, was not married, inbred or bankrupt.

“I just - we - I didn’t invite you to this dance because it’s an enlisted platoon. I didn’t think you were coming.”

“Wow, you must really like who ever it is, if you don’t want me to see you with him. Too bad. Dori called earlier and told me to come. She’s been trying to reach you all day, by the way.”

Bess locked the door, and they got into her car.

“Can you believe her date?”

“Mmmhmmm.”

“Of course, then it all made sense why you guys would be messing around with an enlisted tank unit. How did Dori even get involved with their MWR Committee.”

Bess rolled up her skirt so she could comfortably drive, and shifted into reverse, arching her eye bow at her younger sister as she did.

“How do you think? She asked to be reassigned to it two weeks ago.”

“Man oh man, she really is lucky. I wonder if we’ll all get to dance with Elvis?”

“Look, Kay, they sent out a memo to everyone, do NOT make a spectacle over Private Presley. Just act like he’s any other solider”

“Of course Bessie bushka. I’m on my best behavior.”

Bess looked Kay in the eyes as they pulled through the base gate.

“I am just going because I told Dori I would, I don’t wanna stay too late. So maybe Dickey Rooney can drive you home if you wanna swing all night?”

“Yeah, sure, ja volt. You don’t have to be ein klafte, Elisabet.”

**************************************************************

The tight cloth of her dress didn’t have much give, and Bess regretted her choice as she tried to keep up and hold on as she danced

“Look, this is tactical move that requires delicate maneuvers—”

“I’m not spiking the punch, Jim.”

Bess huffed and got into her rhythm as they kept up with the band’s rendition of “Tutti Fruity.”  If she let her self relax and swing into each step, it was almost like old times when she, Jim and Ben used to go out dancing in Austin or Killeen and she’d take turns dancing with her fiancee and his best friend all night. They had been the three musketeers. But that was last year, when she had a fiancee. And a different future peering back at her from her crystal ball.

The music brought her out of her silent reverie, and Bess looked to her where the band was performing on stage. The lead singer’s voice reverberated through the building, echoing up into the tin ceiling and back down again, making the room buzz with energy. There were six people in the all-Black Flapjacks: drums, guitar, bass, trumpet and then a male and female vocalist. The men wore matching silver dinner jackets and black bow ties, and the beautiful, Black woman had on a gorgeous silver dress with tulle flowers at the bust.

Bess took a deep breath, her attention shifted back to Jim, whose hands were always steady, but never needy. She was grateful he had agreed to come when she called last night and asked. A year ago they had spent almost all their free time together. Stalwart, an honorable prankster, Jim wasn’t shipping out to the Army Intelligence station in Heidelberg for another two months and Bess wondered if their friendship would end. If Ben’s new German wife would win him over and, like his friend before him, Jim would forget all about the last three years of shared adventures and promises of a lifelong friendship. Men mean it in the moment, Bess thought, I suppose women do to. Forever. What a meaningless word. How can we plan forever when we cannot know the future? The song ended and Jim escorted her off to the side. She looked for her sister, and found her swaying with her beau towards the back, hands clasped together between the lock-eyed look of first love.

“I forgot how good a dancer you are, Schwartz. And in that dress, whoowee! You’re a knock out tonight.”

“You can cut the flattery, Jameson, still not spiking the punch.”

“S’not flattery, how dare you insinuate that I would be disingenuous? You look good all dolled up, s'nice to see you this way. It’s almost like fun Bess is back, though a year ago she wudda helped me spike the punch.”

He took out his large, dark leather flask and handed it to her after taking a nip. Bess’ face scrunched up in distaste as the vodka burned down her throat, but she greedily held on and took another long drink.

“A year ago I didn’t work here, I was just hanging out with some of the reprobates from the German language division. Now it would be bad form for a Front Office secretary to spike the punch.”

“Look around, Bessie, this crowd needs to relax. They’re alllllll keyed up waiting for that Hound Dog.”

Jim was right, a heightened sense of anticipation pervaded the warehouse, even the strings of colorful paper lanterns seemed to sway with anxious excitement above them. Bess looked over at the big bowl of punch, next to the trays of deviled eggs, brisket sliders, the lime jello mold filled with seafood salad, pineapple upside down cake and more. She was sizing up the punch and checking her breath as they waited for the next song when she heard a wave of hushed murmurs ripple through the large room and turned to see Elvis, Dori and a few other soldiers in dress uniform enter the dance together. Bess’ eyes narrowed as Elvis’ looked at her.

Jim followed her gaze, then met Bess’ eyes.

“There he is, as handsome as he looks in the movies.”

Bess’ grimace could have cut through glass as she turned to her friend and elbowed him.

“Not you too?”

“What, art thou so high above us mere mortals that you don’t find Elvis Presley attractive, Schwartz? To gouache for a scholar like you?”

“It’s Private Presley now. And I’m not made of marble, Captain. Of course I recognize his attractive features. He just isn’t my type.”

She sniffed, and grabbed the flask from inside Jim’s uniform, the breath coming out of her nose forcefully as she drank a long draught.

“I’ve met him, actually, already. I was there.” Bess took another drink, tipping the flask back again and noticing that the liquid didn’t burn so much this time. “When he asked Dori out. I’m happy for her.”

Elvis and Dori began walking toward them, and Jim noticed how Bess’ stance changed as she crossed her arms and pursed her lips, suggesting that she what felt was the opposite of 'happy for Dori.'

“Well, I was at the press conference his first day here, at least four reporters asked if he has a girlfriend. Said he was playing the field so many times, sounded like a broken record.”

Bess straightened as she watched Elvis’ hand tighten around Dori’s waist and push under her bust while the blonde leaned into it and introduced Elvis to some of the eager MWR committee members who had stopped them.

“Yeah, that would be the alternate version of Hound Dog, it’s on the B side.”

Jim chuckled at Bess’ joke, but she didn’t notice, she was busy watching the Hound Dog himself, and caught Elvis glance over at her and give a little nod before his lips bent into a smirk. She realized she was frowning and plastered a big smile on her face. Jim watched this exchange with interest as Bess turned back when he spoke.

“Yeah, I see what you mean. Definitely not your type.”

Bess scowled and whispered for him to stop as Elvis, Dori and another soldier approached them.

“Why Captain Daniels, how nice to see ya over at this little ol’ dance for the 37th, are you Bess’ date ta night? Or sneaking in to try and meet you-know-who?”

Dori giggled and playfully tapped Elvis’ chest. In case, you know, they didn’t get whom she was referencing.

Jim nodded and shook his hand to stop Elvis and the other soldier from saluting him.

“Oh, neither, actually, I’m just here to make sure Schwartz doesn’t spike the punch.”

“Don’t believe a word the Captain here says. This is a great introduction, by the way. Captain Daniels, meet Private Presley, you know Doreen of course, and then, well, I cannot say we’re acquainted.”

The liquor had loosened Bess up and she giddily put out her hand to the other soldier, as Elvis fiddled with the blue dress uniform cap under his right arm and took charge of the conversation.

“This is Rexadus, I mean, uh, Private Mansfield, he’s in the 37th wit me, another Mephisss boy, we were inducted ta gather, actually." Now Elvis was turning his hat over and examining it, speaking with confidence, almost as if from a script he had rehearsed in his head. "He’s a solid, solid, guy. He really is. Guess I’m lucky, since he’s spending all his time stuck in a metal box with my ass - I mean stuck with my behind.”

Rex her shook their hands with tight, swift grip and a warm smile. Jim raised his eyebrows at Bess.

“And how do you find the Army, so far, Privates?”

“Well, it was easy ta find, just follow all the tanks.” Elvis  smiled and  looked down. “Nah, well, speaking’ jus for me, I mean, I was real honored when President Eisenhower sent me an invitation to this here costume party, and all the boys are real nice."

There was that scripted voice again, Bess mused. She had seen under the hood and Elvis' attitude toward being drafted had not struck her as honored and grateful.

"It’s not easy, golly, I tell you, it’s really whooping my - uh - caboose. But I never felt I earned my supper so well, that’s the God’s honest truth.”

Dori giggled like Elvis was the wittiest man in the world, but he barely noticed, his eyes were focused on Bess and she coughed, uncomfortably. It was hard not stare back. She almost forgot to breathe, and exhaled deeply as she forced herself to look over at the band.

Her eyes trailed over to the food, and she looked back at Elvis with concern, knowing he rarely actually went to the mess hall. He had been meeting her at her back stairwell every evening at 5:15, opening her car door and getting in without even asking. As if it were his own car and sliding across her seat was the most normal thing in the world. It actually did seem normal now, and had become part of her daily routine these last three days. They sat there in their own private enclave, and every time, as he laid his head between her thighs and rubbed her waist, she told him that they were just friends hanging out. Yesterday they’d talked past dinner hours and she’d ask him if he didn’t want to go to get food, prompting Elvis to share how someone had yelled out in line at him Monday, asking if he missed his teddy bears, and he hadn’t gone back since. Sergeant Norwood’s wife, apparently, was providing him with a loaf’s worth of peanut butter sandwiches every night. But that wouldn’t have happened this evening and Bess thoughtfully looked over at the food table.

“You must be hungry. All of you, I mean.” Bess stuttered, trying not to stare at Elvis, which, for some reason, backfired, because consciously trying not to made her think about him even more and she failed horribly at being able to stray from his blue eyes for very long. “Because you just got here. Of course.”

Dori smiled and took this as her cue to play hostess and lead Elvis away to the refreshments.

“Yes, of course, of course, y’all must be hungry, doing those tank exercises all day. I made the seafood dip over there in the jello mold, it’s a recipe from Ladies’ Home Journal, you simply must try it and tell me what you think.”

“Aw, darlin’, I don’t, don’t eat seafood.”

“The brisket is pretty good.” Bess chimed in.

Dori smiled even deeper.

“Hmm, well, I suppose it’s probably ok for a Yankee like ya self, Bess honey.”

She pulled her arm tighter around Elvis, leading him to to the brisket as Bess heard her say, “Personally, I find Millie’s brisket a little bland and dried out, but come on, you’re a growin’ boy, need to refresh ya energy.”

Dori’s giggle trilled back as she walked him away and Bess frowned again when Elvis turned back over his shoulder, clearly grinning deeper as he took in Bess’ eyes following him.

She made small talk with Rex, mentioning how the last time she had heard this band, The Flapjack’s, they had played all of Elvis’ big hits and there had been none tonight.

“He bribed them.”

Rex whispered, looking over at where Elvis and Dori stood, as she fed him a deviled egg and then a brisket slider, sticking her finger in his mouth to lick the barbecue sauce off. Her high laugh echoed all throughout he warehouse, prompting Bess to roll her eyes.

“Bribed them?”

“Yeah,” Rex continued. “Not to play ‘Hound Dog,’ not to play any of ‘em. And he bought cases of cigarettes for all the guys in our unit. He wants to make sure tonight is nice, smooth, and normal. As it can be for him, I suppose.”

Before she had the opportunity to inquire further Bess was distracted by the band as they started up a new song, a rendition of Johnny Mathis’ “Chances Are,” and she watched Dori squeal that she loved this song.

 Bess smiled at Rex.

“Well Private, want to cut a rug?”

He hesitated. “Uh, I think -" he looked over at Elvis, who was making his way to the corner of the dance floor. “Probably better if I don’t, gonna go check out the chow.”

“C’mon, you little Yankee, I’ll dance with you, even if you have no taste in brisket.” Jim took her hand and raised his eyebrow. “By the way, Elvis Presley is in love with you Bess.”

“Stop it, Jameson.”

“Did you see how his buddy hardly touched you?”

“How would he know? These boys don’t talk about their crushes in their bunks at night. ‘Sides,he is here with a date.”

“Oh fooey! Elvis doesn’t have to tell him anything, all Rexadus, or anyone need do, is clock how that boy looks at you and, man, that’s all she wrote. You don’t dance with another soldier’s girl, it’s the code. Dori doesn’t stand a chance, honey, he’s just too polite to turn her down. I bet his mama is just like her. Which is probably why he likes you.”

Bess gave him a stare.

“Ok, maybe not exactly like Dori. I cannot see the good Mrs. Presley making you go all the way to Dallas so she can dress shop at the boutiques. They were share croppers, right?”

Bess nodded at Jim as she swayed with him, attempting very hard not to look over at where Elvis and Dori slowly danced.

“Something like that. Very very poor. But Jim, you dance with me, and I was your friend’s girl for two years.”

“That’s different Bess, I hate most women.” Jim looked back over at Rex and his voice trailed off. "Most people, actually. You are saving me from all the eager beavers here looking to snag an officer as a husband.”

“Well, looking around, some of them would probably settle for snagging just a night with an officer.”

They laughed and Jim led her around the dance floor in perhaps the most chaste slow grip of any of any officer or gentleman that danced a slow dance that evening.

The song ended, and the band kept going with their version of Sam Cooke’s hit “You Send Me.”

Bess could not help herself, and found her eyes move to watch Dori press her cheek to Elvis’ and it made Bess’ stomach clench inadvertently. Elvis’ eyes locked on hers while he pulled Dori tighter to him, tilting his head with a smirk. Something in his eyes told Bess he could tell how much she envied her girlfriend, a fact she refused to even concede to herself as she looked away, scanning the room for her sister. To her dismay, Kay was now kissing her dweeby young lieutenant toward the back of the warehouse, not so much dancing as staggering back and forth in place.

Hitting someone’s shoulder, Bess turned to apologize until she saw Elvis had moved Dori right behind them. She stepped hard on Elvis’ foot, then apologized loudly and profusely. That didn’t get him to scout off and they remained dancing next to each other as Jim ignored Bess’s pinches at his wrists clearly signaling for him to lead her away.

“Why hello there, Moo Moo, fancy bumping into you here?”

Dori smiled big and pushed her hands further up around Elvis neck as she swayed to the rhythm.

“Moo Moo? Y’all are gonna havta tell me bout that” Dori giggled. “And look at you Bessie, honey, I just LOVE your dress.” Her eyes moved to Jim. “Y’all having fun?”

Bess stepped closer to Jim, nodding and avoiding the coy irreverence in Elvis’ dark blue eyes as she slyly tried to navigate her partner away from them. She kicked Jim’s shin to let him know that if he did not politely guide her away this very instant she would begin to kick harder.

*******************************************************

Leaning against the wall during a ballad, Bess found herself making a mental note that Elvis’ seemed to avoid dancing to the faster songs. During this one, he had gone off to get some punch and then started walking in her direction only to be assaulted by a troop of MWR committee members, offering him samples of the desserts they had baked as a pretext to come and talk to him. Bess smiled as one asked him to dance, then turned at Mabel’s voice, observing the rosy glow of the other secretary’s cheeks.

“Mhmmm, the punch is good tonight.”

Bess smiled, then leaned in to smell Mabel’s glass.

“How many of these have you had, Mabel?”

The older woman replied without missing a beat. “Five.”

“I’m cutting you off, I think it’s been spiked.”

“Of course it has. By me.” Mabel took her glass back, gulping the rest down with a wink. “Someone needed to liven up this funeral. Hold this for me, won’t you?” She asked, and Bess’ jaw dropped a bit as she watched Mabel cut in on Dori.

Bess wondered if Mabel still preferred Burt Lancaster to the movie star she currently leaned her head against, happily watching her colleague cozily nuzzle into Elvis tall frame. He was a good sport, joking and swaying with Mabel for a second dance,  then stepping to the side and chatting with another swarm of woman who tried to contain their eagerness as they brought him another tribute of dessert platters.

Bess danced to The Flapjacks performance of “Jambalaya,” but quit as the music turned toward more and more ballads while the night went on. It was late, the people on the dance floor seemed to have coupled up and the decorum had slowly fallen to the wayside as the senior personnel disappeared. The air fell thick with a heady, hazy lust provoked by the swell of sweet, slow rhythm and blues and the release dancing provided from the stress of barracks life. Jim had ducked out, and Bess wished she had given Kay her keys and gone with him. She managed to stay as far away from Elvis as she could through he evening, which wasn’t hard. If Dori was not monopolizing him, he only made it a few feet before another woman tapped on his shoulder. During this time, Dori had cornered her and begun drilling Bess for information, asking why she didn’t pick up her phone anymore, and what the deal was with Elvis.

“Moo Moo? Is that a nick name? Are you sure y’all are just friends? Honey, say the word, and I will be on my way. I do not throw myself at men.”

Thinking of their double date last week, Bess restrained herself from explaining that this seemed to be Dori’s primary hobby.

“I promise, it’s a silly nick name, Moo Moo is what he called his childhood cow named, get this, Bess. I’m telling you, Doreen, we’ve just accidentally stumbled into a very casual friendship.” She rubbed her friend’s shoulder, and looked out at Elvis laughing with his dance partner.

“He's lonely, and just jives more with women. You saw him with Mabel in the office. I’m not saying I see wedding bells in your future either. But then again, Dori, you don’t want to get romantically involved with Elvis Presley, do you? I can only imagine the havoc he is going to wreak on the girls in this town once he gets his bearing and into phase two. That boy is a fast operator, so fast you don’t even know what happened and boom, you’re asking him out.”

Dori narrowed her eyes. “Mmmhmm. Well, honestly I don’t want to marry him, Bessie Boo. I just want to experience him. He is so soft, Bess. That jaw! And those eyes. Ufffff. And when he kisses you, oh, it’s like having lightening strike your cheek. I’m fixin’ to get more before the night is over, hopefully with my mouth.”

She winked as the song ended, and strode off to get him back. Bess had to giggle at the glare Dori shot a younger girl from the switchboard office who looked like she was about to ask Elvis to dance.

Lonely, awkward, and ready to be done, Bess rolled off the wall and told Kay she was ready to leave. Her sister politely told her to get bent, promising Dickey would drive her home. So Bess subtlety slipped out of the side door next to the stage and made her way towards her car, ambling slowly in the cool evening air. Bess found it a sweet respite from the crowded, stuffy ware house stuffy. Out here, it was peaceful, and she savored the darkness as she looked up into the black sky. The stars and moon were hidden by some clouds, and Bess tried to get lost in the murky shadows as she wandered away from the sounds of the dance. She begged the wind to tamp down the anxious buzzing in her head. It was then, when she paused in the passage way between two tall buildings, that she heard the sound of footsteps following her, and turned to see a tall, dark figure striding toward her with purposeful, swift steps. His shoulders were back and his hands were out and he slowed when he heard Bess speak.

“All dressed up and marching in a hurry, huh? Loose your parade, Tupelo?”

Elvis’ gait turned into a wide swagger and Bess stumbled into the building backing away from the force of Elvis’ magnetism. It was not a smart escape strategy because he followed in step, his hands on his waist as he looked her over.

“Al - al - always, the smart ass, huh?”

“I’ve been a smart ass my whole life, Tupelo. Try to keep up.”

Elvis shook his head, chuckling low.

“You’re staring. Stop it.”

“Honey, if you didn’t want me to stare at you, shoulda worn a different dress.”

She gasped, and Elvis stepped closer, his right arm up against the wall while his left moved over her waist and he whispered into her forehead, his voice was low, teasing, almost babyish.

“Be honest, Moo Moo, did you come out here cuz you wanted me to chase you?”

Bess looked at the eaves of the building above her, she could hear the faint sound of the band back at the dance playing “The Girl Can’t Help It” and Elvis hips swayed very slowly at half time with the beat.

“Nope, I, I was leaving, actually.”

“How could you leave without dancing with me, baby. Not even once. An ya hardly even talked to me all night. Every other girl in there is ready and rearin' ta pounce on me, but you make me come chase after you?”

“I’m - I’m not like very other girl, Elvis. I’m not trying - trying to ….”

The way his thumb trailed up her arm made Bess shudder and she lost her train of thought.

“Hmmm. Not tryin’ to what, Moo, huh?”

He leaned into her ear as he spoke, and the skin on her bare shoulder prickled as his thumb rubbed over it while he whispered softly.

His voice was warm on her neck, and it reminded her of the first summer Mama drove her and Kay down to Galveston spontaneously for a week. They had stayed in a cheap motel across from the beach and enjoyed the warm Gulf water while eating fried shrimp and hush puppies and getting sunburnt. There, in the golden sun of the Texas Gulf, Bess had forgotten how uncomfortable it was to move through the world. No, standing where the sun met the surf had set her free, and she had become a wild animal dancing in the water and screaming into the waves while the sand crabs tickled her feet.

Elvis’ breath on her neck had the same effect. She felt wild, relaxed, totally at the whim of her body as she bit her bottom lip and looked up at his half-lidded eyes. She wanted to pull him close and scream into his mouth, howl at the untamed force of nature that rippled beneath his cheeks. He tightened his hand at her waist and kissed her neck, but then stepped back at her shudder.

“Ya scared not scared of me, Moo Moo, are you?”

She shook her head, but trembled as Elvis fingers feathered lightly down her arm.

“You don’t never have to be scared of me, baby, I won’t ever hurt you.”

“Elvis, I -”

He kissed her neck again, murmuring into her skin. The top of his cap rubbed into her hair. “Wanna get out of here? Go somewhere we can jus… Talk?””

Just as Bess began to answer, she felt a light sprinkle of water on her nose and looked up as it started to drizzle down on them. The rain brought her wits back to her and she gently pushed Elvis away, feeling the water increase and her hair slip down over her face. She leaned up and kissed him on the cheek.

“You are here on a date with someone else, and I have to go home.” Squeezing him in a tight hug, she kissed his cheek one last time as he nodded, before removing her heels and sprinting off through the puddles to find her car.

**************************************************

Bess had managed to wash her face and get her dress off before she succumbed to the extreme need for a pot of hot tea. Now she stood in her kitchen, towel drying her hair and shivering as she waited for the kettle to boil. Hearing a knock at the door, she yelled out hurrying to the front of the house.

“Kay, the door is open! Or is numbnuts a catching disorder -  shit.”

There was Elvis, hat in hand, on her front doorstep.

“Numbnuts?”

She swayed to the side, watching the back of a white Studebaker whirl around the corner. A white Studebaker very much like the one Mabel owned.

“My sister’s boyfriend is not the sharpest shooter in his platoon.” She held her robe closed as she looked down at her thin, white silk night gown. The thin matching robe didn’t do much, but she felt more decorous pulling it over herself.

“Did Mabel sneak you off post?”

Elvis grinned mischievously and strode past her into the house

“Hello to you too, Bessie, whatcha cookin, good lookin'?”

Closing the door, she shoved him as he walked backwards down the hallway.

“Don’t you hello me, what are you doing here?”

Elvis unbuttoned his jacket, and draped it around her shivering body.

“Still cold honey?” He drew her in, rubbing her shoulders. “Let me see if I can warm ya up.”

His jacket was still cozy with the heat of his body as he drew Bess into him. Breathless, she let him enclose her in his embrace, folding her arms into his chest as she lifted her chin up to gaze into his eyes.

“There she is, there’s a good lil Moo Moo.”

Elvis leaned down to bundle her further into him, his hands moving inside her open robe to caress the sides of her body, his nose stroking hers as she closed her eyes and whispered into his jaw.

“Elvis, you shouldn’t be here.”

“I know honey.” He pulled her closer, kissing her cheek at the fold of her earlobe as Bess crushed into his.

Her mind was racing, racing the with knowledge that at any moment her 17 year old sister would come home and probably know how to work the door knob. Racing with the knowledge that her father and mother were flying back to Waco tomorrow and she needed to be rested and alert when she drove to pick them up. Racing with the knowledge that Elvis Presley was the absolutely worst choice for a romantic entanglement or fling, not just because he was famous, handsome, rich and probably already dating any number of women in Los Angeles, Memphis and God knows where else. And therefore, an unimaginable person to be seen with publicly or explain to her family.

But it was worse than that, she could already tell, from the way her mind bent towards him all through the day when he wasn’t around, and directed itself to him with an intense, buzzing focus when he was. For these reasons, she knew he would be the worst kind of all-consuming distraction that she could possible let herself get involved with right now.

Her mouth had other plans. Namely, how could it find his mouth?

“Elvis.” She mumbled as her lips brushed the nape of his neck and her hands wrapped around his body.

“Yes Bess?”

He looked down at her as she tried to find the words she wanted to say.

“I - I - I”

“I know honey, you don’t date soldiers.”

She smiled a lazy, goofy half smile.

“Mmmhmmm.”

He gripped her tighter, pinching the flesh at her sides.

“Honey, dating is not the word on my mind right now. I am not interested in asking you on a date.”

He kissed her forehead.

“I do not have no intention of driving up to your house in my pink Cadillac.”

He kissed her nose.

“I don’ wanna have to come meet ya mama and shake your daddy’s hand.”

He kissed her cupid’s bow.

“And I definitely ain’t about to take you out to fancy restaurant and buy you dinner.”

He kissed her lightly on the top of her mouth, his teeth grating over her lip.

“I do not want to date you, Bess.”

“Good, because I don’t want to date you either.”

“So don’t date me, baby. Jus kiss me.”

**********************************************************

Click here to read Chapter Four: Dance

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[thefanficmonster]

Love For The Faceless

Corpse Husband x Youtuber!Reader(Female)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: Fluff 

Summary: Y/N is a YouTube gamer who has recently gained a much larger following thanks to the streams she does with her friends. Naturally, considering her faceless and bodiless nature, people are starting to get curious about her. When she finally follows her friend Corpse’s example, a lot more than her hands is revealed.

Requested by anon, you know who you are 😉 Thank you so much for placing a request and hope this fic fulfills the expectations you have for it.

“Hey!“ I greet the lobby as I finally hop into the Discord call after quickly saying ‘hi‘ to my audience.

I’ve been a YouTuber for four years now and I’ve only recently started streaming, encouraged to do so by my best friend Rae. She’s the one who got me in multiplayer games such as Among Us and Phasmophobia which led me to meet her amazing gaming squad that consists of some of the most famous names on the platform. They are all wonderful people and I will forever be in Rae’s debt for introducing me to them. However, becoming friends with Felix, Sean and the rest of the team brought not only a more fulfilled life, but also a small boost in following. Who am I kidding, it wasn’t small. It was overwhelming, terrifying even.

My YouTube channel had a little over a million subscribers at the start of quarantine and now....now it’s closer to three million. Speaking of three million, I’m about to reach it any day now and it’s really hard to believe. I’m a gaming youtuber and I’ve never considered changing my genre despite expecting to not get any attention whatsoever, with all the big names on the platform. I was convinced not even as many as a hundred people would stumble across my videos and now here we are.

My OG subscribers are very supportive of my sudden growth and are defending me when my newer fans ask for a face reveal or whatnot. While we’re on that topic I might have to mention that not even my YouTube friends, and that includes Rae have seen my face. I’ve been faceless and bodiless for the entirety of my time on social media. Some claim I do it to grab more attention or for dramatic effect, but the reason is beyond that. I’m not shallow. Actually, shallow people are the reason I don’t show my face. I’ve never been the prettiest, but my middle school bully thought that I wasn’t lacking self confidence enough. As a result, I ended up with a not so handsome scar on my right cheek that starts from the corner of my mouth and nearly misses my eye. Yeah, it’s a long and pretty noticeable scar that has thankfully become less and less obvious as the years have progressed. Still, it’s not something I’d like to show to my viewers.

Eight ‘hi’s greet me back, each making my smile grow wider. “Sorry I’m late guys. Technical difficulties.” 

“Don’t worry.“ Rae’s voice dominates over the rest, “Corpse still isn’t here so we’re waiting for him.“

I mute myself on the Discord call and take a look at my comments. I’m most flattered by the comments about my voice. Seeing as how they don’t have much to compliment about me other than my content, they make the nicest comments about my voice, personality and humor. Those comments are the ones who warm my heart most. Even when people in my day to day life compliment my appearance I can’t find it in me to believe they are being genuine. I’d like to believe these amazing people are being one hundred percent honest when they tell me they like me for who I am and not for what I might look like.

“Sorry I’m late guys.“ A deep voice causes me to even physically jolt, switching my focus from the comments to the Among Us lobby where my eyes land on the newly materialized black avatar.

“Hi Corpse.“ Rae greets him.

“Hello mister who broke Twitter!“ Sean laughs, provoking the laughter of the rest of the players.

“Yeah, congratulations man. That’s a big deal.“ Felix chimes in.

“Thanks guys, but I think you’re forgetting we’re talking about a picture of my hand.“ Corpse chuckles timidly. I have noticed how shy he gets when someone gives him a compliment - like a snail slowly withdrawing in its shell. I find it adorable.

“That’s what makes it even better!“ I unmute my mic, sending my own congratulations.

“While we’re on that topic...“ Rae begins, waiting for the rest of us to shut our traps, suggesting she has something important to say. “Y/N, do you ever plan on doing a reveal like that? Not a face reveal. Just a body part reveal.“

I have no problem talking about the subject with friends but I get nervous when I’m supposed to discuss it with my fans. Seeing as how everyone, including myself, is streaming right now, I get a bit of a stutter in my speech. “Haven’t thought about it yet. But I guess a body part reveal is harmless.” I cringe immediately after letting the words leave my mouth, “That sounds so weird.”

Rae knows that I’m not too fond of my face, but I haven’t told her about my scar yet. I let almost all people I’ve met online think I’m using my lack of appearance for effect. For the mystery of it all. Mysteries attract people which equals attention. Attention equals views and the domino effect continues.

“Just a suggestion. No pressure.“ Rae adds quickly, knowing full well I get anxious when the subject is brought up in front of cameras. “Let’s get this game started, shall we.”

                                                          * * *

The idea dwells in my mind, sitting on the back burner even after I disconnect from the Discord call. I’m sitting in my gaming chair, which was a gift for my two million milestone, and weighing out the pros and cons of the action Rae suggested I take.

“It’s a picture of your fucking hand, dummy. How bad can it turn out?“ I say out loud, shaking my head at my indecisiveness. “You’ll be fine.”

In a blur, two pictures are already posted on my Instagram. The first one captioned ‘Took a leaf from my friend’s book. Did I do it right @ corpsehusband?’ and the second ‘Thanks, Rae. These are on you.’

Rae’s POV

As I’m watching a movie in my living room, I get a notification from Instagram, informing me that Y/N has posted for the first time in a while.

I scoff, “More like the first time in forever.”

The first thing that comes to my mind is the possibility of her reaching that three million milestone that’s been long time coming. I bring the glass of water that’s sitting on my coffee table to my lips, taking a sip as I tap the notification. The picture I see makes me hurry to put the glass back down so I don’t drop it. Y/N’s hand. Her fingers are covered with several thin rings each. And here I thought Corpse had too many rings, this girl has at least two on every finger! 

Then my eyes land on the second picture she has posted only minutes after the first and my heart drops. I struggle to get the water that’s been sitting in my moth down my esophagus while my mind is struggling with the task to comprehend the picture I’m looking at. 

Another hand is resting on top of Y/N’s. A hand also covered in rings but fewer and larger. The nails are painted black. 

I think I know who it belongs to.

Before I can even finish the thought, I’m dialing Y/N. She picks up after the second ring, sound cheery as ever as she greets me. “Hey Rae!”

“Don’t you ‘Hey Rae’ me!” I practically scream. I hate being kept in the dark about anything ever so this is just driving me mad. On top of all, she’s my best friend, for fuck’s sake. “Is that Corpse in the photo with you?!”

“Ugh....“ the cheeriness to her voice is all but gone now.

I go on with my rant, not giving her the time to reply. Not that she would reply. I bet she doesn’t know what to say. “So he knows where you live?! Or was the picture taken at his place?! He knows what you look like?! You have seen him! He has seen you in real life but me, your best friend, haven’t!!! You are breaking Covid 19 protection laws to take pictures?! Are you fucking serious, Y/N?!”

There’s a long moment of silence which frustrates me even more but I literally have run out of things to yell and the power to be angry. I mean, I still am, I just can’t express it.

“Rae, sweetheart, please calm down. You’re scary when you’re mad.“ This girl has some fucking nerve! She’s on the verge of laughing!

“Listen here you...“ 

“Rae, please stop scaring my girlfriend.“ That oh so distinguishable, oh so familiar voice interrupts me.

I am flabbergasted, for a lack of a better term.

“Now that we’ve got you quiet, I can explain.“ Y/N pics up the conversation, “Corpse and I have been dating for six, almost seven months now. We started dating around Easter after talking for quite some time. We moved in together at the end of September. All thanks to you, Rae. You’re the best.” She pauses to breathe in real quick, “There, all caught up?“

I’m in no less shock than I was before she explained. Actually, I think I might be even more confused now. It all just feels like a fever dream. “Yes...no. I don’t fucking know! I need details, Y/N!”

“Details later.“ Corpse makes his presence known once again, “We’re watching Family Guy right now. Talk to you later.“

“Love you, Rae!“ Y/N calls out before the line goes dead.

My arm goes limp, dropping my phone on the couch next to me. 

“Motherfuckers” I mumble under my breath.

Y/N’s POV

It’s been a week since Rae has stopped talking to both Corpse and me. I know she just needs some time to cool off. In the meantime, the rest of our friends were informed and, as oppose to Rae, were nothing but supportive and overjoyed. I bet Rae feels the same way though. Sean, Dave and the rest of the gang have confirmed that she’s incredibly happy for us and says she noticed a spark between me and him since day one, but she can’t help but be mad at us, and especially me, for not telling her sooner.

“Any regrets?“ I remember Corpse asking me when we hung up on her after dropping the bomb.

“Not being able to see her face when she saw the picture.“ I beam at him, feeling as content as ever.

He laughs, agreeing with me before leaning down to kiss me.

@susceptible-but-siriusexual  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @hacker-ghost  @itsminniekat  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios

[ithehellisbucky]

Waking Up In Vegas

spencer reid x reader

request: prompts 87 (boop), 88 (that's such a bad idea- lets do it), 89 (Cool Cool Cool Cool Cool Cool Cool Cool Cool), 96 (I'm not crying, you are.) by anon

word count: 1.7k

warnings: Mentions of drug addiction, heavy drinking and blackout, that's it.

author's note: I've had this in my inbox for months, and I'm so sorry I didn't finish it sooner. Also, what do you want to see from my blog, it seems like I only post once a week for my fics and that's a no go from me.

~~~

The light was too loud- that's a wonderful thing to think when you remember nothing of the night before. You groaned and sat up, seeing that you were in a large bed with white covers. You scratched your head and looked around, noticing that the bedboard behind you was a large pink heart.

Looking down you realize that you're wearing a sequined red bikini top and a skirt scarf combo with booty shorts underneath. Drunk you does not have good fashion sense.

Before you can notice anything else, you start to feel puke crawling up your throat and you immediately run and vomit all your guts up.

You rinse your mouth out and notice that the blanket mound you left has shifted, and you become wary and pick up a heavy brass candlestick.

And then the lump rolls over, and it's your goddamn coworker.

"Reid?"

He startles and wakes up, staring at you and then glancing down at himself- huh, there was something wrong about that picture, but you couldn't figure out what it was just yet.

"y/n? What are you doing in my hotel room?" He pauses, looks around, then mutters under his breath "this isn't my hotel room."

He looks up at you "Since when are you married?"

"I'm not," You look down at your hand, noticing a giant red ruby adorning your ring finger "I am."

You look down at his hand and notice that he is too, "And so are you."

You and Spencer look around your room, both badly masking paranoia and panic. Both of your eyes stop when you notice a picture frame in the corner- a wedding certificate.

"Cool Cool Cool Cool Cool Cool Cool Cool Cool. This is fine, no big deal, just a marriage certificate," You move over and pick it up "with both of our names on it."

"Okay, this is okay, this is fine," Spencer says, sitting back down on the bed stunned.

"So, we're married, which is a thing that happened, last night, that you definitely remember." You say, sitting down next to your newly revealed husband.

"I don't remember."

"How do you not remember? You have super memory powers!"

"This is an excellent first fight to have as a married couple, of course, you blame me." He says, standing up and shrugging.

You meet his stance "Of course I blame you! You're the smart one!"

"Oh, well Agent, I wasn't aware that you had an IQ of 25!" He pauses "25 is the number associated by Henry H. Goodard to be an idiot, it's actually-"

"I know!" You exclaim, seething with half-hearted rage.

"You know, your the one who got an addict drunk!"

"Your vice isn't alcohol! If I drugged you I'd be a monster! You ordered that first bloody mary all by yourself, and those shots we did were totally consensual!!!"

He looked up at you "you remember that?"

You think, and notice memories that you didn't know were there, "um, yeah, bits and pieces."

From the expression he makes, he looks to be remembered more too. You and your new husband sit down and let it all hit you.

~~~

"4 tequila shots please." You wave down the bartender.

You're already buzzed, but you and Spencer were just getting warmed up. Morgan and Garcia left hours ago to go to a fancy restaurant, Rossi was planted firmly at the poker table, Hotch was nowhere to be seen, JJ had gone home to be with Henry, and Emily was at a "sin to win" night at some casino that you already knew too much about just by hearing the name.

So that leaves you and Spencer at the bar in the only casino in town he wasn't banned from.

At first, you were concerned about him drinking, but once he reassured that alcohol isn't his way of self-medicating, you were okay. Besides, if you saw any red flags, you would throw his ass in rehab faster than you can say 'gin'.

So, you were 5 drinks in and having the time of your lives, showing off battle scars and laughing. God, his eyes were pretty.

"Your eyes are so pretty!" You giggled "like soooooo pretty, woooooooow."

He laughed and looked back at you "your skin is pretty, like in a non-serial killer way, it's really pretty."

"Thank you, just don't kill me for it."

"I just called no murder!" He whined "besides, how am I sure you won't kill me and scoop my eyes out?"

"Because that's gross." You said, rolling your eyes.

"And stealing your skin isn't?"

"You can' have my skin!" You say, mock running away.

He laughs, and looks directly into your eyes, and smiles, wow, he was pretty. Morgan was right.

"Hey, do you wanna get out of here?" Spencer asks you.

"Yeah, let's get ice cream!" You grab his hand, and it feels natural through your foggy brain.

After stumbling through the ice cream parlor, full of people who were trying to pretend like they weren't. Spencer got butter pecan, and you got sherbert and chocolate.

You stumbled out of the store, giggling to yourself and Spencer.

God, you loved him. So you told him.

"I love you." He stopped in his tracks, and you almost tripped on a bicycle rack.

"Really?" He whispers.

All of the giggles are gone.

"I love you."

The ice cream is long forgotten, his on the ground, and half of yours on your clothes and half next to his on the ground. All that's left is your faces inching closer to each other.

When your lips meet it feels like firecrackers going off inside your head.

His mouth is soft, gently contrasting with your soft lips. His tongue sneaks into your mouth, your smile around his.

"Let's get married." He pulls apart from you, out of breath.

You stay silent for a moment, before looking up and directly into his chocolate brown eyes "That is such a bad idea-"

He diverts his eyes and scratches the back of his skull "Um, yeah, that's okay, let's-"

"Let's do it."

He looks back at you, and you grab his body and kiss him.

~~~

Sometimes people can be happy, you realize as an elderly woman ties a sash around your waist.

You have to be honest, you never thought this was gonna be how you were gonna get married. Hell, you weren't sure if you were gonna get married at all. But certainly not like this. Certainly not at 1 am to your coworker 7 drinks in at a cheap roadside attraction.

Definitely not like this.

But something about this weirdness felt like the only way anything ever would've made any sense.

There was something about the outfit you were wearing that was perfect, a bright red bra covered in sequins underneath a top with buttons and poofy sleeves that showed off a lot of your chest, a wrap-around cheap white silk skirt with jeans shorts underneath. And of course purple open-toed boots. Perfect.

Marrying Spencer Reid is like a fever dream. A perfect man with perfect hair and perfect eyes. So of course you were giggling like crazy while they put the cheap crown with pink tulle serving as a veil on your head.

Your witnesses were an elderly couple, of course, you wanted to have your best friends there, but knowing them they'd try to talk you out, and believe me, there was no way you wanted out of it.

"Now's time dear," the woman exclaims, gently patting you on the shoulder and leading you out of the fitting room and towards the chapel.

The owner of the business hooks his arm around yours and leads you into the chapel, church bells from an iPod attached to a speaker ringing out into the air.

Spencer turns around the air visibly leaves his lungs when you make eye contact. The chapel you two had chosen in this drunken haze was costume-themed, and he was wearing an ancient Rome costume that fit the time where his favorite philosopher, so even though no one else noticed, you could tell he was dressed as Gaius.

His hair had been attempted to slick back, but little curls were popping up all over the place instead. He was wringing his hands tightly and bouncing his knee, god you couldn't wait to marry him.

The elderly man who had led you to the alter places you next to Spencer, you couldn't focus on anything but your soon-to-be-husband.

Spencer takes his hands and gently pulls your veil up from around your face, and a tear trickles out of his eyes as he sees you. You smile and notice his nerves, try to calm the love of your life down "boop", you gently tap his nose and he smiles in comfort.

The officiant drones on and on about love but you can't hear him, all you can focus on is his love-filled eyes.

"Do you take Spencer Reid to be your husband?"

Your eyes snap out of their daze and you say with the most certainty than you have ever said anything: "I do."

"And do you take (y/n) (y/l/n) to be your life partner for as long as you may live?"

"I do," And you feel more wanted than you ever have in your life, he wants you, Spencer wants you.

~~~

You and Spencer sit on your bed in stunned silence, neither believing that last night had really happened. You look over at your apparent husband and notice tears streaming down his face.

"You're crying." You say, your voice coming out as a chocked whisper.

"I'm not crying, you are." You look down and notice that your shirt is soaked in tears.

"Oh." You take a deep breath and look into his eyes. "So, what do you want to do?"

"Get an annulment?" He doesn't look completely happy about his answer and stares into your eyes for reassurance.

You take a deep breath and stare off into the distance, out into a world that would be so much better if you were married to Spencer Reid. "I don't want that."

You look back at him to meet his eyes, "Me neither."

"I love you, a lot, and I want to be married to you." Spencer smiles, and you feel wanted and safe and loved.

Instead of saying it back, he kissed you with a passion that was way more descriptive than simple words. Spencer is your husband and you love him, he loves you, and you are finally wanted.

~~

My Masterlist

Requests are open!

~Taglists are open~

Permanent Tags: @natasha-danvers​

Marvel:

Criminal Minds:

[thotsforvillainrights]

Okay but let’s consider (perhaps with a fic on someone’s part 👀?): Stain with a daddy kink - bonus points if he’s really embarrassed about it and it slips accidentally

~Compliance~

-Chizome Akaguro smut-

Compliance- the action or fact of complying with a wish or command.

Lazy half lidded eyes carefully followed the trail of your creeping hand as it began to explore beneath the covers. The man above you kept careful watch over your mischievous actions while the morning sunrise bathed your bodies in warmth from the window of your apartment bedroom. He was silent, compliant with your actions until you began playing with the hem of his boxers. “What exactly do you think you’re doing so soon after waking up? Have you no off switch or something?” You simply chuckled at his words and slipped your hand expertly into his underwear, stroking his cock without hesitation. His breath hitched for a moment before he quickly gathered himself. His control when you did this to him was rather impressive (well...until you initiated oral of course). “What do you mean by that? I’m only playing around here yknow?” You teased him. Of course he knew what you were up to. Its been a while since you two were in each others grasp like this. It was bound to happen, ESPECIALLY with the way you kept on giving him the bedroom eyes last night over the dinner table. He had intended to acknowledge your lustful efforts last night but rest came first and foremost. Now you simply beat him to the punch. 

You smirked when you noticed his breathing beginning to get off track as you worked him up from the comfort of the blankets. He whispered small profanities and the soft moaning was almost too quiet to hear. There were no complaints from his end. Chizome figured there was no work to be done today or tonight. It was just the two of you in each others comfort and he missed you so very much. Laying back and letting you handle things was a dream but he wasn’t all too keen on keeping it up. With the rate you were going, he would cum soon and he just couldn’t let your time together be reduced to you servicing him like this. “Cut it out. Why don’t you get on your hands and knees already huh?” You pretended to sneer and him and shook your head. “Make me.” In all reality he had plenty of time to sort out this attitude problem of yours but why not give you another chance or two? “I’ll ask politely so cut it out and do as you’re told, brat.” You scoffed at him and continued your ministrations, slowly dipping your head to lick the tip of him. It took a lot to keep up his tough act and not fold due to your tongue/actions. “Last warning. Do what the Hell I’m telling you to do or you won’t get any sex from me for at least 3 months straight. 

Now things were getting real. 

He was one to literally wait as long as he could. His drive was NOT high and most of the time he goes with the flow so you could tell playtime was over. You groaned and rolled over into position, trying to pretend as if you weren’t beyond eager to feel his cock slip into you and stuff you to perfection. He smiled a short soft smile, quick enough for you not to catch it and he moved to slip on the condom. The birds outside the window, the sun and it’s warmth, the soft whirr of the air leaving the bedroom vent...all of these things set the mood for some rather soft sex between you two. How could he resist smiling at the moment? Besides, you were a work of art in front of him right now. The way his hand reached out to caress the sides of your perfect ass was almost too much. The soft blanket framed your face and the sunlight veiled perfectly over your (s/c) skin (which was something he simply couldn’t refuse running his hand along). H

He lined himself up with your entrance and gently pushed the tip in, relishing in the sweet way you moaned for him and only him. There would be plenty of other times to have sex, right now was prime time to make love. So that’s just what was happening until...”daddy.” It slipped out as barely a whisper but you better believe he heard it. You almost collapsed as you tried to cover your mouth and hide it. For whatever reason it was on your mind, and you messed up by letting it slip out. Never had you used that term in bed before, mostly because you were worried about how he would take it. He wasn’t well versed in many terms outside of the simple ‘darling’ or ‘honey’ that was thrown around in those cheesy romantic movies you watched with him. “What did you say?” He paused his motions and you mentally facepalmed yourself. “N-nothing. It was nothing Chizome!” You tried to play it off and began pushing back yourself onto him to try and get him going again but it just wasn’t working. His hands gripped your hips strongly in an effort to keep you from moving. “No, don’t you lie to me Y/N. What did you say just then?” The long pause of silence was almost unbearable before you decided to own up to it all. “I said...I s-said da-daddy okay? I said daddy. It was an accident and I know it’s weird. I swear I won’t let it out again now please will you fuck me?” He scoffed and pinched your ass playfully. “Ouch!!!” 

“Who said I’d allow you to do so? I want you to say that again or else I won’t move. I’ll stop right here and call it a morning. Say it again.” He sounded serious but you couldn’t honestly accept it at first. “What?” He sighed and pinched you again. “Say it again...call me daddy again.” You hesitated at first before finally folding to his whim and risking it all. With the singular hope this wasn’t a fever dream, you complied to his wishes and uttered a careful ‘daddy’ from your lips. To you it was odd, just a mistake, but to him it was like honey. “Again.” He demanded curtly as he began slowly thrusting into you again. You sighed in relief at the continued contact and decided to get bold after a while. “Daddy please...” Just that alone was too much for him. It didn’t take you two long to reach the end of the road and after climaxing he pulled you tightly into his chest and shared one of those very rare moments when he displayed soft behavior. Despite this, he still leaned down to mumble into your ear:

“I think you know what I expect to hear the next time I have you in bed, got it?” 

»—————————–———————————————————–✄

Instagram: @pastelbattydraws & @pastelbattystore

YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCRNMJH7vHL7APNobUykhK4w?view_as=subscriber

[ffwriterbts]

Lunar- BTS Werewolf AU Part 6

AN: As I’ve said before, if slowburn BTS werewolf AUs that have springlings of angst, smut, and fluff, this is the story for you! Other than that, please leave a like or comment so I know you’re enjoying the story!! The sections should start getting longer as I keep updating :)

Also! Let me know if you want to be on a tag list for this story!

Word Count: 8.1k

Warnings: PARENTAL ABUSE; BEATINGS; mentions of gang activity;  general angst; mental health issues; soulmate themes if you squint: seriously if you aren’t into angst don’t read this bc :)))) it’s angsty 

Posted: 17 Jan 2021

Tag List: @happynightmareprincess

Masterlist

Previous Next

But as always, things don’t last forever. Good things rarely last for long enough to really savor them, especially around all of them.

It was during one of the lovely movie nights that YN’s phone started ringing. At first, YN tried to ignore it, not wanting to be rude during the movie, but when it just wouldn’t stop ringing, she made way too many embarrassed apologies as she went to the other room to answer it.

“Hello?”

“YN! My darling daughter! I’ve been calling and calling, don’t you ever pick up for your mother anymore?” YN blood ran cold as she heard the voice she hadn’t heard since she had fully moved into her uncles home.

“I- I’ve just been unloading groceries mom, I couldn’t get to the phone.” The lie falls far too easily from her lips, just like so many others had before.

“Well at least you’re eating, dear.” The sickly sweet tone made YN want to puke, even as she listened more to the woman she had the displeasure of calling her mother on the other end of the line.

“You need to come back to the house, your dear great aunt has passed and you need to come for the funeral.”

YN takes a deep breath before she responds, not wanting to sound too eager.

“Oh, Mother! Of course, I’ll come in! I can stay at the hotel do-” YN starts,

“Nonsense! I’ll be damned if my daughter stays outside of the home when she’s in my city! Your father will be absolutely tickled that you’re here again.” YN’s mother spoke with such assuredness that YN almost agreed without a second thought, not wanting to anger the woman.

“Of course Mom, I’ll stay at home.” Her voice is barely above a whisper, all the fight that is normally in her tone gone from it in an instant, even slipping into the same vernacular she had when she was younger.

“There you go dear, isn’t that much nicer? It’ll be a joy to have all you kids under one roof again, even if it is because of something so nasty.” YN could feel a headache coming on as she listened to her mother drone on about what the dress code was, and how she was so heartbroken, and on and on.

“Are you going to be bringing anyone with you? Huh? It’s been such a worry that you’re all alone up in those woods.” YN is snapped back to attention at the words, and she quickly says that yes, she will be bringing someone with her to the funeral.

Secretly, she has no idea if any of the boys will even want to go with her, but the prospect of going back to that house without one of them to protect her made her feel even worse than the clearly fake worry laced in her mother’s voice.

“Wonderful dear, I’ll be sure to make up your room so it’s nice for the two of you. I’m very progressive, you know.” YN can feel the hot tears making tracks on her face even as she says a quick yes to her mother, listening to the woman drone on as she tries to find a way out of talking to her mother for any longer than she has to.

“Listen Mom, I’ve got to get these groceries put away, when should I be at the house?” YN’s voice is shaking, timid. She’s forgotten completely about the boys in the other room, consumed with the fear of what was to come.

“The funeral is on Saturday, so you should come down Thursday afternoon, to make sure you’ve got time to talk to everyone before you head back out to nowhere. I expect you before noon.” YN’s mother hangs up the phone after she speaks, and YN lets the phone clatter to the floor.

YN is quick to follow, her legs giving out from underneath of her. She is expecting the jolt of hitting the floor, but instead is drawn quickly into the arms of one of the boys. She clenches her jaw, feeling like she’s just overreacting. It's not really that bad, right?

“YN, hey, it’s okay.” YN realizes when he speaks that it was Namjoon who had stopped her from falling to the ground. She could feel the words riverbreate in his chest as he told the others to go back into the living room and fully picked her up, taking her into the other room as well.

“We’re here for you YN, it’s okay. You can’t get hurt here, remember?” Jimin is off to one side, rubbing her back as YN curls up on Namjoon’s lap, burying her face in the crook of his neck.

She’s embarrassed. She feels like she’s overreacting, like the memories of what it was like living in that house aren’t really real and she’s just made the whole thing up. YN really wanted to believe the simple lies she told people of what her home life was like, but she couldn’t hide anymore. Not from them.

“I- I’m sorry.” YN’s voice is soft, all of the parts of her personality that made her who she was were completely gone as she balled her hands into fists. Absently, she noted how it hurt when her nails dug into her palms, but she didn’t make any moves to unclench her fists. She needed the jolt of pain just as much as she needed oxygen.

Hoseok ended up on the other side of her, and he moved to grab her hands, putting his fingers between her nails and her palms, making her unclench the firsts.

“You don’t have any reason to be sorry Mini, you can’t control the way you react to things like that.” YN barely registers what Taehyung says, smiling absently at the familiar nickname he had given her.

“Tell us what’s wrong, sweetie, let us help you.” It’s Hoseok who speaks this time, wiggling his fingers in her hands, trying to make her smile at least a little bit.

“Someone died.” YN’s voice is devoid of any sort of emotion now, and the boys share glances out of worry.

“I have to go back to that house. To those people. They hate me, because I’m not really theirs. Can-” YN cuts herself off, tears welling up in her eyes despite the fact her voice had a sort of trained evenness to it.

“Can one of you come with me? I- I told my mother that I’d bring my boyfriend but that isn’t exactly what we are and I can’t make the choice myself and I don’t want to go alone and I- I- I’m just- I just” YN chokes on her words, speaking too fast as fear swells up in her chest again.

She shouldn’t have told her mother someone would come with her, it was stupid of her to assume one of them would be willing to go into that situation. She could handle it by herself, after all. How many years did she deal with everything that came from that house completely on her own?

Without more than a couple seconds to pause, there are seven voices saying “I’ll do it.”

YN can’t help but smile to herself, internally cringing at the fact her mother is going to expect a certain level of intimacy. The thought of making any one of them uncomfortable... YN can't even bear to finish the thought.

“Um be-before you say yes, Mother is going to expect us to be, well, t-touchy. And we’ll have to share a bed and I’m sure she will make us kiss to prove that it isn’t fake and- and-” YN starts speaking too fast again, and the seven men look among each other again.

“I’ll still do it.” Again, all seven of them respond without any hesitation and this time, YN lets out half a giggle. With a few final sniffles, YN moves off of Namjoon’s lap and into one of the big, comfy chairs.

“I can’t take all of you!” YN gives a soft smile that is bordering on sad as she looks between the boys that have stolen every piece of her heart. She really didn’t know what she would ever do without them.

“You know what this calls for, don’t you?” Jin is the one to speak up, looking steadily between the other boys.

“Clearly, we need to compete to see who’s most worthy of being with YN during this time, hm?” Yoongi this time, also eyeing everyone up.

“Oh, you all can withdraw now, I’m sure I’ll win.” Jungkook speaks up, a hint of laughter in his voice.

“Shouldn’t you be the one to withdraw, as the youngest?” Jin is being sassy to the younger boy.

“Why are you so confident, huh? Who says I won’t win?” Jimin speaks up this time, raising an eyebrow.

YN just giggled as she watched them go back and forth, feeling much more at ease, and like the whole thing was just some weird fever dream.

With a sudden shout of “rock, paper, scissors!” from Namjoon, the boys were off, engaging in the battle of the century to see who would accompany YN to the funeral.

After three intense rounds, Jungkook let out a yell, having been deemed the victor. Taehyung pouts, but the game stands, and Jungkook is officially the one that is going with YN.

Once the group calms down and everything settles back into a more normal state, the boys start asking questions.

“Um, YN, I hate to ask things that might be painful, but I thought you were close to your mom?” Namjoon speaks up again, looking at YN with a curious glint in his eye.

“Oh, yeah, well, um, basically, er-” YN is tripping over her words, her ears feeling hot as she tries to figure out how to explain what in the hell her home life was like.

“You don’t have to tell us anything you don’t want to Mini.” It’s Taehyung again, shooting a look at Namjoon.

“No, no, it’s okay I just- I don’t know how to tell you that it’s, well, weird.” YN turns to look at her hands, playing with the blanket she was wrapped up in. “My parents and I didn’t have a great relationship for most of my life, because I was supposed to be their child when they couldn’t have their own. But then they did. My younger brother and sisters are the light of their lives, and I’m just…” YN trails off, trying to find the words to describe what it was like in that house.

“Well, I was there to make fun of. The bad example. The one to take the anger out on.” YN shrugged in a way that made it seem like the words she was speaking were nonchalant, normal conversation, though they were anything but.

“Dad used to hit me when I didn’t do what he wanted. And then make it up to me by buying me whatever I wanted. Nobody cared about the yelling, the screaming, the beatings. All they could see were the things . And Mother was on board with it all, until Dad started to find his pleasures in other women. Then she was suddenly on my side, picking fights with Dad that I always had to take the brunt of.” YN shivers, eyes wide as she grips the blanket tightly. She wills herself not to cry in the silence of the room.

“Mother tried to make things better between us once my uncle died. At first, I believed it too- I needed to, I think.” YN gives a little frown, licking her lips quickly as she unclenches her hands. The boys share looks with each other, the discomfort palpable.

“I believed that she really cared, you know. That she had really changed and things were different. And then I met all of you. I saw the way you cared for each other, the way you speak to each other. Even when you’re angry or upset or mad, you’re kind to each other. It was strange at first, seeing you all be so nice even when you’re clearly big enough and strong enough and skilled enough to hurt each other, if you really wanted to.”

YN’s words this time are punctuated by soft gasps, though she isn’t sure who exactly was reacting.

“Seeing all of you with each other, seeing how you interact with each other. Then seeing and feeling that you treat me the same way? I realized as soon as we became friends that my mother’s concerns weren’t real. You all have shown me more love and kindness in the past few months that I have ever felt in my whole life, and I couldn’t be more grateful for that.” YN’s voice was soft again, though not because she was feeling anything overly negative. In fact, she was almost overwhelmed by the amount of love that she felt for the boys that had helped her realize how gentle people could be.

After a few solid beats of silence, Jimin goes and walks over and pulls YN out of her chair and into a hug.

“I love you too.” He says as he squeezes her, being careful not to be too rough. Before YN can really process anything, she’s in the middle of a group hug, with confessions of love being thrown her way from all sides.

YN can’t help but laugh and tell them that she loves them just as much as they love her, feeling more happiness in that moment than she thought possible.

~~~~~~

Thursday had come much sooner than YN had wanted it to. Sure, it had only been a couple days, but YN was still nervously twisting her hands in her lap during the entire car ride. She was thankful that Jungkook had offered to drive, seeing as her nerves were a wreck.

“Do you want to talk more about what is and isn’t okay?” Jungkook’s sweet voice brings YN out of her reprieve.

“Yeah, um, what sort of things are you okay with?” YN can feel the heat in her ears as she asks the question, silently hoping he will just tell her so she doesn’t have to think about it.

“I’m okay doing whatever needs to be done to keep you safe.” Jungkook’s voice takes on a bit of an edge as he speaks, and YN swallows hard.

“Um okay, well, you already know we will have to share a bed, which we did yesterday so it wouldn’t be so weird. And, well, um, you’ll have to hold my hand and stuff like that.” YN glanced out of the corner of her eye at Jungkook to see if he was reacting badly, but she found him sitting there with an adorable smile on his face, eyes focused on the traffic around them.  

“And if she thinks we aren’t real and asks us to kiss?” He asks, turning to look both ways before he crosses over a road and seeming not to pay too much attention to YN or her reactions.

“Um well I-” YN starts, pausing to take a deep breath and steady herself. “I’m okay with it if you are.” Her words are shaky, unsure.

“We don’t have to, YN. It’s okay.” Jungkook’s brow furrows slightly as he makes a turn, sensing YN’s discomfort but misreading it as a sign she doesn’t want that kind of intimacy.

“No- I-” YN sighs deeply, twisting the material of the sweater she was wearing between her fingers nervously. Jungkook takes notice of her nervous habit, and he grabs one of her hands in his own as he continues to drive. YN swallows again, feeling her ears burn hotter as she turns to face him a little more. To deny that it was an attractive move would have been akin to some sort of basal, universal mistruth.

“I’m not uncomfortable with it you know, but I don’t want to get used to something that won’t continue.” Her words are soft, the usual bite of her tone is gone, but they are the most sure sounding words he had heard her speak since the whole ordeal had begun.

“YN, baby, if you want physical affection in that way from any of us, all you had to do was let us know.” Jungkook lets out a soft little laugh, giving YN’s hand a small squeeze. Her heart flips at the pet name, so familiar as it falls from his lips.

“But it’s not my place to ask for something I don’t deserve.” The words are out of YN’s mouth before she can tell herself not to say them, that the appropriate response would be to tell the boy that yes, she would love to get more-than-platonic physical affection from them (though it could be easily argued their affection was never platonic in the first place).

“I- I mean that I would absolutely love that sort of affection if you’re willing to give it, um-” YN can feel her face growing hot as she withdraws her hand from Jungkook’s, lacing her fingers together and setting her hands on her lap.

“You deserve everything YN. And you most definitely deserve that kind of affection, we just didn’t want to overstep your boundaries. Any one of us would give you the world if you asked.” Jungkook’s words are simple, and YN can’t help the tears that well up in her eyes. She can feel plainly the love behind his words, and the entire situation is completely overwhelming for her.

She reaches over and grabs his hand again, smiling softly to herself as the car falls into a comfortable silence for the remainder of the ride. YN is grateful, in those moments, that Jungkook isn’t half as loud or crazy as he seems when he’s around Tae or Jimin.

Once they finally pull into the driveway of YN’s family home, YN lets out a shaky breath.

“Promise me you won’t let them hurt me Kookie, please.” It’s a half whisper and it comes out like a whimpering plea. Jungkook can feel the fear that has settled into YN’s bones, and it makes him want to rip the heads off of every single person who’s ever hurt her.

“YN-ah, look at me.” He pauses until she turns to face him, at which point he carefully traces her jawbone. “You’re safe with me. The boys aren’t far away, and nothing will ever hurt you again. You’re ours now, and we don’t let anything happen to our people.”

He looks her dead in the eyes as he speaks, seeming to search for something. YN is looking at him with those big, innocent eyes she always does. Her trust in him, in them, is greater than any fear she had, and he can sense that. And suddenly, their lips connect, soft and sweet. It seems to take all the breath from YN’s lungs and give them more oxygen than ever before all at once, and it’s cut off all too soon for her liking.

Jungkook softly rests his forehead against hers, breathing in sync with her. Absently, he thinks of how both Taehyung and Yoongi will be pouty when they find out he got to be the first one to kiss her, and that just makes him want to do it again and again.

So he does, and YN couldn’t have been happier about it. She wanted to slip into a world where it was just the two of them, nothing else going on, nobody else to worry about.

What she got instead was a very disgruntled looking mother knocking at the window of Jungkook’s car, calling for her to come out. Taking a steadying breath, YN plasters a smile on her face and hops out of the vehicle, to face her mother.

“YN, my dear daughter! It’s so nice to have you back in the home! And who is this handsome devil? Hm? You must really be something special to go for someone like my daughter with your looks.” YN’s mother moves from speaking warmly to YN, to snidely about her to Jungkook.

“I’m Jeon Jungkook, it’s a pleasure to meet you Mrs. YLN.” Jungkook gives a bow, and YN almost scoffs. She doesn’t like the way he’s being so respectful, though she never would have expected anything else. “And I assure you, it’s your daughter who is settling for me.”

YN gives a smirk at her mother’s slight frown at that comment. Of course he would have noticed the crude remark.

They make their way into YN’s family home, taking their bags up to YN’s bedroom before returning to the living area. YN is pleased to find that her brother had also brought someone, and that there were all sorts of family members milling about the house.

Jungkook stuck close to YN for the entire afternoon and evening, rolling up his sleeves to show off his tattoos at every chance he got. He also tended to stand between YN and either of her parents whenever the opportunity was given to him, which YN appreciated more than anything.

Jungkook also found that YN had purposefully let down the last bit of the barrier that was still in her mind so he had complete access to her thoughts and feelings. This meant that, as soon as YN felt threatened or like something wasn’t quite right, he was there to save the day. He had to admit that YN opening herself up to him like that made the Alpha part of him feel absolutely wonderful.

YN, on the other hand, wanted nothing more than to curl up into Jungkook’s arms and have him take her away from there. She was dreading what would happen once everyone else left, seeing as her brother was staying with his girlfriend and neither of her sisters would arrive from college until the next afternoon.

As the people cleared out of the house, YN anxiety levels rose exponentially. The snide remarks were much less hidden as the people left, none of which are missed by either YN or Jungkook. Despite YN trying to field the situation and talk her parents into being a little nicer, they do nothing to mask their ill intent.

YN feels sick to her stomach at the thought of how she once believed that this was the pinnacle of what love felt like, seeking out Jungkook’s soft touches to ease her discomfort. Jungkook, on the other hand, felt more and more like pulverizing both of YN’s parents with each passing second. The anger radiated off of him like heat waves, and honestly, it gave YN more courage to stay calm and not pay attention to what her parents were trying to do. She knew, at the first sight of real danger, she would have Jungkook there in an instant to protect her, and three of the others outside within five minutes.

And so, things went as smoothly as was to be expected the entirety of those first few hours. YN and Jungkook even went up to go to bed without any real issues, which YN was more than grateful for.

The two decompressed in YN’s room for a long while, with Jungkook laying his head on YN’s chest so he could listen to her heartbeat as they both processed the events of the day. YN ran her fingers through Jungkook’s beautiful mane as she tried to figure out what her next moves were. She felt oddly safe, which she completely attributed to Jungkook and the rest of the pack.

It was nearing midnight when YN stirred under Jungkook, carefully moving his half-asleep from to the side so she could sneak downstairs for a glass of water. She hadn’t realized just how thirsty she was until she tried to swallow and her mouth was just completely dry, so down the stairs she went.

Jungkook, being the big baby he is, insisted on her giving him a kiss before she left, asking her if she needed him to come with. She just giggled, telling him not to be silly and to go back to resting.

YN was as quiet as she could be going down the stairs, not wanting to wake anyone up. She had gotten all the way to the kitchen and grabbed a glass for water when the deep voice of her father startled her.

“What in the world are you doing down here?” His voice is gruff and slurred. Turning around to face him, YN can smell the alcohol from across the room.

“Nothing sir, I’m just getting water.” YN’s voice is small and she can’t bear to look at her father as he stalks closer to her.

“I know what you’re doing with that boy upstairs. The only way some thing like you could have landed that boy was by opening your whorish legs for him. Did you even last a whole week before you were on your knees, huh?” His words bring tears to YN’s eyes even as she wills herself not to cry.  

Upstairs, Jungkook’s eyes snap open as he realizes what is going on, feeling the distress coming from YN.

“N-No sir.” YN’s voice is so unsure, she even sounded like she was lying to herself.

“Yeah right” He spits at her feet, grunting as his grimy hand reaches out to grip her chin, forcing her to look up at him. “A bitch like you? If you didn’t open your legs, you must be running drugs for him. Is that it? Uh?”

YN struggles to break away, to deny the claims even as her father’s grip gets tighter on her jawbone. He takes another swig from the bottle he had been drinking, grunting and throwing it across the room when he finds it empty.

Harshly, he tosses her head from his grip, another crude grunt falling from his lips as he watches his daughter fall to the ground.

“I never understood why your uncle liked a worthless bitch like you so much. That house was supposed to go to us, and here you are, living in it like you deserve to live there! Like you took care of them! Like you wanted it!” His words get more and more harsh as his face turns blotchy, anger and disgust lacing his words.

As he raises his hand to strike the girl that is cowering before him, making claims about how this is all she will ever be good for, YN squeezes her eyes shut and prepares for the pain that is to come. She waits for the familiar sting, her heart seeming to beat out of her chest as one beat passes. Then another.

She hears a sickening crunch, but doesn’t feel... anything. Then there comes another, and another, and the various sounds of flesh hitting flesh. YN still doesn’t feel anything, so she slowly cracks open her eyes.

What she finds when she opens them is one seething Jeon Jungkook absolutely destroying the man who had tormented her her entire life. She can both see and hear bones snap under his sharp blows. She can see the blood pour from his split skin. She can hear the too-loud cries of her father as he tries to harm Jungkook in vain.

Despite the carnage in front of her, YN can’t help but let out a happy sort of smile as she rushes forward, not wanting Jungkook to kill the man. There isn't a doubt in her mind that murder is the only thing on Jungkook's mind.

“Kook, Kookie! Stop!” YN yells, dodging his elbows as she tries to get into his line of sight. “Don’t kill him!”

YN finally manages to grab onto one of Jungkook’s arms and tug him backwards slightly. He looks quickly at YN before turning and spitting on her father, growling out a quick “Don’t you dare touch our YN ever again ” before turning fully to YN and drawing her into his arms.

He was covered in blood, but in this moment, YN really couldn’t have cared any less because it all felt like it was over. She pulled away from him slightly, not caring at all that he had gotten blood on her clothes, and tugged him down to her level for a kiss. She could feel his muscles still flexing even as his arms fully wrap around her frame, though she knows she isn't in any sort of danger.

“Thank you” she breathed, tears slipping down her face even as she felt nothing but a wild sort of happiness.

“Come on baby, let’s get our things. The boys will be here soon, we can go home.” Jungkook presses another kiss onto her lips as he brushes the spot on her jaw where her father had gripped it, wanting to wipe away all traces of the disgusting man off of his precious Omega.

YN holds onto his hand tightly as they make their way upstairs, gathering the few things they had gotten out hastily. It dawned on YN that it looked almost as if they never really planned to stay there at all, with how little they had unpacked, and she was perfectly okay with that.

It wasn’t until they stepped outside of YN’s bedroom that they met their next challenger. YN’s mother was absolutely fuming as she ran up the stairs, screeching in that horrible high pitch of hers that they were going to pay for what they did.

“YN! You filthy bitch! You ugly whore! You scheming cunt!” The screeches come as YN’s heart drops into her stomach. She feels the way Jungkook tenses beside her, ready and willing to hurt the woman if she deserves it.

“What the fuck did you do to my husband? What the fuck is wrong with you! We took you in, we cared for you, we loved you! We fed you and clothed you! And this is how you repay us? Huh?” YN’s mother is too close to them now, though a sharp growl from Jungkook sends the furious woman back a couple steps. She may have been completely irrational, but she wasn't actually stupid.

“No I-” YN starts, at least trying to talk some sense into the woman.

“NO! NO!? You ugly little whore! You and that freak need to get out of this house, right now!” YN swears her mother is going to pop a blood vessel, and honestly, she’s not sure she would really care.

“Mom please-” Again, YN is cut off by her mother’s devilish voice.

“No! We never should have taken you into our home! We never should have signed the papers to make you our responsibility! You and that oaf you call a boyfriend are just a pair of worthless bastards!” At this point, even Jungkook’s warning growls and glares do nothing to make the woman back away, but it isn’t until she reaches out her hand to push YN that he really steps in. He captures the woman’s wrist in his hand with a practiced sort of ease, stepping between YN and her mother before he speaks to the enraged woman.

“Listen here you worthless hag, you are going to step aside and let our darling girl pass. You are going to attend to your dipshit husband before he bleeds to death, and you are never going to speak to YN again. Do you understand me?” Jungkook’s voice holds an edge that YN had never heard before. She can almost hear the way her mother’s wrist muscles strain, threatening to tear as Jungkook’s unrelenting grip tightens.

“I said, do you understand?” His voice drops into a lower register as he motions for YN to grab the bags and move past him. As much as he is sure she wouldn’t mind her mother getting hurt, he doesn’t want to do anything more in front of his sweet girl.

YN brushes past him with the bags, oddly calm for everything she had witnessed. She is sure that her lovely Kookie will take care of everything, and that there will be three other boys waiting for her outside, ready to whisk her away.  

When she opens the door, she is immediately swept up by someone, the bags dropping to the ground as she is spun around. It had only been a few hours, but the events of the day had left the entire pack on edge.

“Thank the heavens you’re okay.” It isn’t until he speaks that YN realizes that it’s Yoongi who has hold of her. YN doesn’t say anything, instead clinging onto the boy like he was her world. Yoongi carries her to the car, going to put her in one of the seats until she looks at him with those beautiful eyes of hers and asks him not to go, and suddenly she is lovingly curled up in his lap.

Meanwhile, Jungkook is only just coming out of the house as YN is settled into the car. He spots Hoseok and Jin putting the bags in the back of one of the cars. The two rush up to him and ask if anything else needs done, to which Jungkook shakes his head. He silently hands his keys to Hoseok as he heads over to the passengers side of his own vehicle.

“I had to break the woman’s wrist. I don’t know if the man will live or not. We should leave.” Jungkook hops into the vehicle, collapsing down into the seat in exhaustion.

Hoseok and Jin share a sideways glance before they quickly switch keys. Out of the two people that had been in that house, Jungkook was the more likely to need medical attention, so Jin would drive him back to the mansion. Hobi would follow in the other vehicle, keeping an extra eye on YN and making sure Jin got updates as needed.

They all knew that there would be plenty of questions to be asked and answered in the morning, but for the time being, they were focused on getting YN and Jungkook home and rested up.

~~~~~~

Once they pull into their driveway, Jungkook and Jin go straight into the house, knowing that it would be their job to brief the others about what had happened. Yoongi refuses to let YN down, carrying her into the house as Hoseok opens the doors for the two of them.

“I’ll keep her in my room tonight, to make sure she’s okay. You go make sure Kookie's alright.” Yoongi speaks softly to Hobi when they reach the living room, giving the man a soft smile.

“You know what to do if you need anything.”  Hoseok says simply, returning Yoongi’s soft smile as he gently rubs YN’s back. She hadn’t put the remaining barriers back up in her mind, so both boys knew that YN was absolutely exhausted and just trying to figure out what in the world the jumble of her thoughts were.

Honestly, her brain was a mess but it was clear that YN really didn’t want to be alone right now, which the boys respected.

Yoongi didn’t set YN down until he very carefully placed her on his bed, looking at her in the light properly for the first time. She had a very visible bruise on her jaw from where her father had gripped it and blood all over her clothes from Jungkook.

“Go take a shower princess, I’ll get you something to sleep in.” Yoongi’s voice is soft as he gently moves her head to get a better look at the bruise. He couldn’t deny that it made him angry that someone had marked his Omega. “It’ll make you feel better, I promise.”

YN just looks at him with those big eyes of hers, sadness in her gaze even as she felt comfort in his gentleness. With a little more gentle prodding, she makes her way into the bathroom, Yoongi getting her a fresh towel for when she finishes.

She spends quite a while in the shower, the warm water relaxing her as she tries her best to scrub every trace of her family from her skin. It took YN a lot of thinking to decide whether the entire ordeal had been worth it or not, but in the end she decided that it had been. If they wouldn’t have gone, YN didn’t know if she ever would have gotten the guts to admit that she wanted more intimate affection from the boys she loved so much.

As she stepped out of the shower and wrapped up in the towel, YN secretly hoped that Yoongi would kiss her too. She would be lying to herself if she said that she wasn’t incredibly attracted to everything about the man, but she couldn’t see herself taking that step on her own.

Securing the towel around her, YN stepped out of the ensuite and into Yoongi’s room. She found a pile of clothes on the end of the bed and Yoongi scrolling through his phone.

“I got you one of my hoodies to sleep in, baby. I know how much you like them.” Yoongi speaks without looking up from his phone, smiling to himself as YN grabs the clothes he had left for her. She changes quickly, a smile breaking onto her face when she realizes that Yoongi had gotten her her favorite pair of sleep shorts.

When she came back out of the bathroom, Yoongi had put his phone up on the nightstand and turned out the overhead light. He had the light on the nightstand on it’s lowest setting, which made her feel oddly safe in the already dark-themed room.

“I got your bunny, so you can stay here. I don’t want you out of my sight just yet.” Yoongi’s voice is deeper than usual as he stands and heads over to where YN had stopped. He could tell that she was unsure of what to do, and he was perfectly alright taking the lead.

Yoongi hands the small girl her stuffed animal, a smile gracing his face as she squeezes the thing to her chest. They had all noticed right away that she really liked to cuddle a stuffed animal when she slept, which they found to be completely adorable. Secretly, they had each made sure they had a small stuffed animal of some sort in their room for her, just in case.

“Thank you Yoongs. I-” She paused as she looked up at him with those same wide, innocent eyes. Damn, was he a sucker for those eyes of hers. “I really don’t want to sleep alone tonight.” Her voice is only just above a whisper, love and trust filling her eyes as she looks up at Yoongi.

“Kook is right, you know.” Yoongi says the words absently as he draws her into his embrace. “We would give you anything you ever wanted. You’re our darling girl, our princess, our baby, our Omega. You should have let us know you wanted more intimate affection.” He planted a soft kiss on the top of her head.

YN pulled back slightly, brow furrowed slightly in confusion as she looked up at Yoongi’s face.

“Why?” Her voice was still ever so soft, ever so innocent.

“Oh darling, you know exactly what I mean.” Yoongi moves one of his hands up to trace her jaw, ever so careful of the bruise that had formed. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since that first day when you found me in the woods.”

YN can feel her ears heat up as her lips part slightly at Yoongi’s confession, wanting nothing more than to close the distance between the two of them but being far too chicken to actually do it.

Luckily, Yoongi really could read her mind, and he took it upon himself to bring their lips together. YN felt the world around her spin and fade away as the breath was stolen from her lungs. The only thing she could think about, the only thing she could feel , was the soft pressure of Yoongi’s lips against her own.

It seems like hours before they disconnect, drawing a soft gasp from YN as Yoongi lovingly strokes the side of her face with his thumb, watching her as those eyes he loves so much flutter open. In that moment, it feels like it’s just the two of them, suspended in time and space. Yoongi feels complete as he smiles down at the girl, the love and trust so clear in her eyes it’s almost painful for him to look at.

And just like that, the silent moment is gone as YN lets out an adorable little yawn, rubbing at one of her eyes absently.

“Come on princess, let’s get you to bed. Things have been rough for you today, hm?” Yoongi moves to the side and gets into his bed, frowning when YN doesn’t really move. With a quick assessment of her thoughts, he realizes that she’s unsure because she doesn’t want to assume anything or overstep her boundaries or- well, she’s completely overthinking the entire situation.

“YN, come ‘ere. I’m not going to make you sleep alone tonight.” Yoongi makes a motion with one hand as he draws the covers back for her with the other, a soft smile gracing his face. YN runs a hand through her hair, taking short, quick steps to get to where Yoongi was.

If she was really being honest with herself, she craved nothing more than the complete, devout protection that the pack gave to her. That Yoongi gave to her. It made her feel like she was really worth something, like she was cared for in the exact same way she cared for them.

Absently, as she curled up next to Yoongi and laid her head on his chest, she thought of how most other people would have thought what Jungkook did was too much, too violent. YN couldn’t have explained to anyone why she felt the way she did, but she honestly trusted him, trusted them , more now.

They had all told her many times that they would protect her, that they would keep her safe, that nothing would ever hurt her again, but she didn’t really believe them. How could she? Sure, she knew that they had done some unsavory things in the past, but that didn’t mean that they would actually do anything for her. Why would they? She was riddled with self doubt, even if she did her best to hide it away.

As YN lay on Yoongi’s chest, listening to the slow beating of his heart in time with his deep breaths and thinking about how she felt about everything that had happened, she slipped closer and closer to sleep. By the second, her eyes were more and more heavy, the calming scent of Yoongi enveloping her completely and calming her to the point it was practically impossible for others to tell if she was asleep or awake.

Yoongi is wide awake, on the other hand, breathing softly and mulling over the day as he plays with YN’s hair. For whatever reason, it calmed him greatly to have the girl there, on his chest. He felt like he was doing what he was meant to by having the Omega so close to him. He sighed to himself, wholly unable to tell if his intense liking for the girl was due to his Alpha nature or if it was because of who she was. He wanted it to be because of her, because of who she was instead of just because of their natures, but he couldn’t be sure . After all, he had felt very similarly when Jimin and Taehyung had first come into the pack, and while he loved them both dearly, part of that affection was because they were younger Betas and he felt he needed to protect them.

Later, Yoongi would blame his thinking of the two boys on them showing up in the room, but honestly, he wasn’t mad about it. Taehyung and Jimin burst into the room like a pack of wild animals, both of them wanting to see YN for themselves.

“Yah! No! Calm down!” Yoongi hissed out as soon as he realized what was going on, anger lacing his words as he accosted the younger men “YN is resting, can’t you see that?”

The two boys stop in their tracks and sheepishly actually look at the scene before them, both of them finding the way that YN had curled up to be adorable. Jimin was the first to apologize, rocking back and forth on his feet as he put his hands behind his back, blush tinting his cheeks. Taehyung sighed as he repeated Jimin’s apology, pouting as he looked at the scene before him.

YN had one hand curled up, gripping onto Yoongi’s shirt right next to her face, the other clutched her stuffed bunny to her side. Her lips were slightly parted and her eyes were softly fluttering open. They didn’t even have to read each other’s minds to know that it was difficult for all of them not to coo at the adorable girl.

“It’s okay YN, you can sleep. It’s okay.” Yoongi ran his fingers through her hair as he spoke softly, wanting to calm her.

“Taehunie? Minie?” Her voice was laced with sleep as she mumbled out the words, barely lifting her head even as she turned it to the door. Her eyes were glassy as she looked towards where the two other boys stood.

They were in sync with each other as they both moved towards the bed, kneeling down to look YN in the face once they were to the side of the bed.

“YN-ah, baby, are you okay?” Taehyung is the one to speak first this time, one hand reaching out to touch the side of her face softly. “We wanted to see you.”

YN looks at Taehyung with those same beautifully innocent eyes, a smile creeping onto her face at his words. “I’m okay Tae. Safe.” Her words were much more clear, though she didn’t speak in a full sentence. It took them looking into her mind to realize that she meant that she felt safe with them, not some other random thing.

“It’s good you feel safe! We love you, we always want you to feel safe with us.” It’s Jimin who speaks this time, reaching a hand out and laying it on her arm as he spoke.

“Safe. Mine.” Her words are back to being half mumbles as she snuggles back into Yoongi’s chest, feeling safe. Because of their mind link, they understood that she meant that she felt safe with them and that she was glad she was with them.

The two boys at the side of the bed shift their focus to Yoongi at the same time, matching pouts on their faces.

“Hyung, can we stay?”

“Please?”

“I don’t wanna leave her.”

“Yeah Hyung, me neither.”

Yoongi puts up one of his hands to silence them, sighing deeply. He knows he’s gonna regret it, but he looks down at YN and tells them that it’s her decision if she wants them to stay or not.

“YN~” They whine at the same time, doing their best to give her perfect puppy dog eyes. “Can we stay with you, please?” YN giggles at their antics, and nods into Yoongi’s chest.

“Yeah, you can stay.” Her words were muffled because of the position of her head, but the two boys had no problems hearing her.

Jimin is the first one to climb back into the bed, quickly shimmying under the covers and wrapping his arms around YN. Taehyung climbs in directly after him, doing the same thing to Jimin that he had done to YN.

Yoongi just sighs as he looks at the three other people that had gotten into his bed, a smile on his face despite his outward annoyance. He really did love them, and if he was being completely honest with himself, having the three seek him out for comfort made his Alpha feel absolutely wonderful .

YN felt incredibly safe and happy like that, wrapped up between the three. She felt loved, cared for, wanted. Within a minute of the two boys clambering into the bed, she was completely out, sleeping peacefully.

[buckthegrump]

IBTHNTTTY - 10

Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Y/n hates Bucky Barnes. Absolutely loathes him what makes it worse is that she has to share her office with him. Now with a promotion on the horizon she has to find a way to work with him and not against him.

Word Count: 1464

Warnings: this one has a lot of fluff, swears, sickness stuff, your welcome

A/n: this fic is just the gift that keeps on giving

The next time Y/n opened her eyes, there was an obscenely beautiful black man with his face directly in front of her. She squinted at him.

“How are you feeling?” The strange man asked.

“Like everything is on fire,” she answered, “Who are you?”

“I’m Sam. I’m a doctor.”

“What kind of doctor?” Y/n flipped onto her back. “Because with my luck, you’re some kind of ass doctor.”

She hadn’t realized that doctors still did house calls.

“I’m a physician, so I’m equipped to handle almost everything. So no, I don’t specialize in asses. But I could make an exception for yours.” Sam smiled at her.

“Even if I wasn’t sick, that line would make me gag.” Speaking of which, her stomach lurched again.

“C’mon, Sunflower,” Bucky spoke from her other side. He was still on the bed, his hand now on her hairline. His thumb was gently stroking her forehead. “You gotta sit up so he can check you out.”

“Oh, so he can also specialize in my boobs?” Y/n teased as she sat up.

“Making jokes even with a fever of 104,” Sam said, nodding, “I like this one, Barnes.”

“Stop flirting with your patient,” Bucky grumbled. 

Sam took her temperature and looked at her throat. While he was doing all this, Y/n’s eyes were trained on Bucky. His eyes were bouncing between her and Sam, he never actually made eye contact with her, but he looked at her.

As she looked, no, gazed at him. Because that’s what she was doing, gazing up at him like a lovesick fool. And she was decidedly not in love, she was however sick. But she was trying to remember why he called her sunflower. He’d been doing it since their first week together.

Had he seen the tattoo on her upper thigh? No, there hadn’t been an opportunity for that. Except for last night. This morning? When had she gone home from work?

“What day is it?” She asked, completely forgetting about her other question. She laid back down, not having the strength to sit up for much longer.

“It’s still Friday,” Bucky answered.

She opened her mouth to make a snarky remark but closed it and gagged again.

“Bucky claims that your temp spiked to 104, but it’s dropped back to a cool 102. So unless it spikes again and stays at 104 for longer than thirty minutes, you should be fine,” Sam said. “Barnes, flush her with fluids. Don’t let her die from dehydration.”

“Thanks, Sam,” Bucky said. He was obviously trying to rush him out the door, but Doctor Sam wasn’t having it.

Sam turned to Y/n smiling. “Give me a call once you’re better. I’ll take you to a fancy restaurant and let you order anything off the menu.”

“Goodbye, Samuel!” Bucky ordered.

“Gesh, I’m going.” Sam sent her a wink over his shoulder. “Tony says to stop ignoring his calls!”

“Tell him I’m not ignoring them, I’m a little busy. And he doesn’t have to call me all the time.”

The door slammed, and Bucky turned his attention to Y/n again. This time, he made eye contact with her.

“How are you feeling?” He asked.

“Better, but I’m cold again.”

“That would be the fever,” Bucky sighed. He sank down, so he was lying next to her. She snuggled into his right side, he stilled at the movement. He took a deep breath and unfroze. 

“Why do you call me sunflower? And why does Tony Stark ‘check-up’ on you? Are you some sort of genius?” She mumbled into his side.

“The first day we worked in the office together, there was a bouquet of sunflowers on your desk -”

“They were from my parents. Sunflowers are my favorite,” she whispered.

“Yeah, I know. The fact that your family sends them to you every year on your birthday or any other significant day kind of gave you away. And if that hadn’t been a giveaway, your tattoo would’ve clued me in.” She could hear the smile in his voice.

“How did you -” That’s when she realized that her shirt and sheets had been changed. “You’ve seen my boobies.”

“No, you changed your own shirt,” he chuckled, “You didn’t even wait for me to look away. Luckily, I have quick reflexes. But your little sunflower did peek out a few times. It’s cute.”

“Have you ever wanted to see my boobies?”

“Do you really want to know the answer to that? Because if I say yes, you will think I’m a pig who only ever thinks about women to sexualize them. On the flip side of that, if I say no, you might be offended that I wouldn’t want to see your bosom.”

“Well, knowing that you are the kind of person that says bosom, I’m leaning towards you saying no,” she chuckled.

“I just edited a romance novel. It was the first thing that came to mind that wasn’t tits,” Bucky said. Y/n laughed, a little obnoxiously for someone who was sick, but she couldn’t help it.

“Well, I forgive you for not saying tits while I’m all sweaty and gross.” She draped her arm across his stomach. “I’m sorry that I’m getting you all sweaty. And thank you for changing my sheets.”

“It’s no problem, sunflower. Now, go to sleep.”

“You’ll be here when I wake up?” Her body was exhausted, her eyes already closed.

“I’d never leave you,” he whispered, but Y/n wasn’t sure if she’d heard him correctly or if she would remember this when she woke up.

* * *

Y/n went in and out of consciousness. Oftentimes, Bucky was still there by her side. At one point, he’d changed into different clothes, not ones she recognized but definitely not the ones he’d worn to work on Friday.

There were a few times when Bucky hadn’t been in bed with her, but she heard him in the kitchen fussing about. He’d returned before she fell back asleep and made her take some sort of medicine and force-fed her broth. Ok, maybe he didn’t force-feed it to her, but there was absolutely him spoon-feeding her like an infant.

“I can feed myself, ya know,” she said. He made an oh-my-apologies-your-majesty face and held out the spoon for her. “No, I don’t want to.”

“Then quit complaining,” Bucky said. He returned to feeding her quietly. They sat there in silence; the only sound in the room was the occasional clink of the spoon hitting the bowl. “When you called yourself unloveable. . . Do you believe that?”

“I have no proof that it’s wrong,” she wiped her chin of a dribble that almost ran down her neck, “and that was more about romantic love than any other type of love.”

Bucky stared at her after putting the now-empty bowl down. Y/n, who was feeling better, was still a little sick and still a rambler. So she stupidly opened her mouth so more words could fall out.

“That time I told you about the corn maze? It’s the one and only date I’ve ever been on, until recently. But I don’t really count that as a date, given the outcome. And no one’s ever tried to kiss me. Not that I haven’t kissed anyone, but it was never in a romantic sense. It was once or twice for a play. And then once while I was drunk at a party, and that was the quickest of pecks.” She gasped, preparing herself to continue.

“Am I not attractive enough? I know I’m not a classic beauty or very hot. . . I just want to be desired by someone.” Y/n looked down at her lap. She was unable to look at him; she couldn’t risk the pity that was undoubtedly in his eyes. Hit with another wave of exhaustion, she laid back down, mumbling thanks to Bucky before drifting back to sleep.

* * *

Being asleep while sick had always been weird for Y/n. It was almost as if she was never truly asleep for most of it, at least after the first day.

Which is why she wasn’t sure it had happened. It was definitely a dream, but a small part of her had hoped it was real.

“I think you’re beautiful and very desirable. I don’t get how you’ve gone this long, thinking that no one will ever love you the way you want to be loved. It blows my mind that no one has even tried.” Bucky’s fingers lightly traced shapes across her arm that was still over his stomach. Or it had returned to his stomach. In her dream, and probably in real life as well, she pressed herself closer to him. “One of these days I’m going to have to tell you that.”

[swaps55]

Cafune

Shepard’s cabin is a hell of an upgrade over crew quarters. Considerably less foot traffic, for one, private bathroom for another. The dim lighting alone is heaven. It’s always too bright on the crew deck. Hell, Kaidan even kinda likes the fish.

But it’s the company he really enjoys.

He shifts in his spot on the couch, nestling a little deeper against Shepard, who tightens the arm looped around his waist in response. Kaidan is still at least attempting to read through the reports that have been piling up. But Shepard has spent the last several minutes ignoring his datapad in favor of gazing at Kaidan.

It’s…nice. Really nice. Especially when the datapad gets tossed aside entirely and Shepard’s fingers start carding through his hair.

A smile curves Kaidan’s lips. “Hey, you.”

“Hey,” Shepard says softly. “I missed this, you know.”

“Touching my hair?”

“Mmm. Also the rest of you.” He presses a kiss to Kaidan’s temple.  

A contented sigh slips out of Kaidan’s throat. “Believe me, I missed it, too.”

Shepard’s fingers continue working, making the datapad in Kaidan’s hand less and less interesting. But then they still, followed by a deliberate intake of breath. After a few seconds, Shepard exhales and starts moving his fingers again.

“What is it?” Kaidan asks.

Another pause. “Nothing.”

Kaidan hides a smile and keeps skimming his datapad, even though at this point he isn’t reading a word. Shepard doesn’t hesitate to say what’s on his mind. Only Sam does. “Uh huh. Well, whenever you change your mind, let me know.”

Shepard grunts. But a minute later he drops his hand and shifts his position a little. “Can I ask you something?”

There it is.

“Of course.”

More shifting. “While, uh, while I was dead, did you…?”

Kaidan tightens up without meaning to. Those two years are never going to be an easy subject, especially when Shepard throws the word dead around so easily.

As if sensing his discomfort, Shepard draws Kaidan a little closer to him. “Never mind.”

Kaidan sets the datapad down and settles against him. Shepard’s death certainly isn’t a pleasant topic, but bridging it while tucked in his arms…helps. “No, go on. Did I what?”

“It’s nothing. Forget I said anything.”

“Sam. There are things about…that I’d rather not talk about. But doesn’t mean we can’t talk about it at all. What do you want to know?”

He clears his throat, expression a little sheepish. “Just…wondering if you, ah…met anyone.”

Kaidan blinks. Well. That’s…not what he expected. “Are you…asking if I dated anyone after Alchera?”

“I mean, it’s fine if you did,” he says quickly. “Two years is a long time. People move on.”

A hoarse laugh escapes Kaidan’s throat. Move on. He’d spent the first year in a fugue, and the second convincing himself that functioning wasn’t enough; he had to live, too. He hadn’t quite mastered it by the time Hackett dropped the Freedom’s Progress file in his lap.

Move on. Everyone told him he would, eventually. Some days he’d even believed them.  

“Sam…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Shepard says, voice gentle. “I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“Why do you ask?” Kaidan asks, curious. If there’s one thing they’ve generally done right, it’s believe in the way they feel about each other. Well. Once they’d mustered the courage to say how they felt about each other, anyway.

Besides, dating is all but a foreign language to Sam. Not that Kaidan has a much better track record of it.

Shepard’s fingers return to Kaidan’s scalp. Kaidan’s not sure if it’s meant to reassure him, or reassure Sam. “I guess…your thing with Joker reminded me…I’ll never know what kind of hell you really went through.”

Ah, right. The thing. While Shepard was with Cerberus, Joker apparently hadn’t mentioned just how contentious things had gotten after Alchera.

“If you found something, er, someone, who made it a little less hellish,” he continues, “Well.”

Kaidan closes his eyes and revels in the gentle churn of Shepard’s fingers. “I don’t really…date, Sam.”

Shepard makes a noncommittal sound.

Kaidan opens his eyes, sensing a challenge. “Come on. In the five years we served together, did I ever date anyone?”

A hesitant look crosses Shepard’s face. It takes Kaidan a moment to understand it, but when he gets there he chuckles in disbelief.

“You’re actually going to say the researcher we ran into on Arcturus, aren’t you.”

Shepard withdraws his fingers from Kaidan’s hair and gestures. “Come on, you can’t argue that wasn’t a date.”

“We had drinks,” Kaidan reminds him. “Once. At your insistence. You literally wingmaned me.”

“Yeah, well, I thought I was doing you a favor,” Shepard grumbles. “The one that got away, and all that.”

“She was not the one that got away,” he says with amusement.

Shepard sniffs. “That’s good, because she was not right for you.”

“Then why…” Kaidan’s eyes widen as realization dawns. “You were jealous.”

“What, of her?”

“Yes. You were jealous.” He chuckles again as the pieces fall into place. “You were in a horrible mood when I came to find you after. Since you wingmaned me I thought you’d want to hear how it went, but you nearly took my head off. I thought you were pissed at Pendergrass for being impossible to take out in public. But you were pissed at me, weren’t you?”

Guilt flashes across his eyes. “No.”

“Sam.”

His brow furrows. “Ok…in retrospect…I was probably jealous.”

“You insisted I buy her a drink!”

“Yeah, because you kept talking about how much you enjoyed her company when she was…researching you.”

Kaidan sighs in exasperation. “She was researching my implant. We were friends. Saw each other a few times and went our separate ways. Well before you and I met, I might add.”

“You were still into her,” Shepard insists. “Come on, I know you.”  

“You ass, I was into you,” Kaidan says with a laugh. “I didn’t want to have drinks with her. You’re the one I wanted to spend that evening with.”

A smirk curves his lips. “Yeah, well, I know that now.”

Kaidan shakes his head. “So if I’d come into your quarters that night and kissed you instead of telling you about my so-called date, would that have put you in a better mood?”

Shepard grins. “Why? Did you think about kissing me?”

“When didn’t I,” Kaidan mutters.

“Boy you had it bad for me, didn’t you?” Shepard says, tracing Kaidan’s jaw with a finger.  

Kaidan raises an eyebrow, not about to give in to the gesture of affection. “I’m sorry, who shot out the window of a quarantine lab and exposed themselves to a bio engineered virus for no reason?”

Shepard squawks in protest. “What do you mean no reason? You were in that room!”

“And I’d already been exposed,” Kaidan points out.

“So I was just supposed to leave you in there was some deadly virus? I kinda like to think I’d have done that you whether I loved you or not. You think I would have left Garrus in there?”

Kaidan holds up a finger. “No. No, no. If it had been Garrus you would have used that tactical head of yours for at least a nanosecond, realized the damage was already done and taken the extra five minutes to go through the decontamination process. Or at the very least, put your helmet on to avoid exposure. But no, you shot out the glass and came after me because you were in love with me and didn’t stop to think. Or grab a helmet.”

Shepard sputters, then glares. “Ok. You might, might, have a point.”

A slow grin spreads over Kaidan’s face. “And because of it you had to spend all that time with me in quarantine. You literally took care of me when I felt like I was going to die.”

Shepard draws Kaidan back to his chest. “Kinda thought you were going to die. Scared me to death.”

“Yeah,” Kaidan says. “I won’t lie…I was glad you were there. Even if it was a little humiliating to be that incapacitated around my commanding officer.”

“I’ll take you at your worst over most people at their best,” Shepard says. His fingers return to Kaidan’s hair, and Kaidan leans into the touch with a hum. “Like hell I was going to let anything happen to you.”

“I know,” Kaidan says, and it’s true. As reckless and unnecessary as that stunt had been, the sound of that glass shattering followed by Shepard’s voice in his ear had made him feel…safe.  

Shepard clears his throat again, shifting uncomfortably. “Is it, uh, is it weird if I admit that I might have…done this a little, when your fever spiked?”

“Touched my hair?”

“Yeah.”

Kaidan chuckles softly. “Thought I dreamed that.”

“No,” he says after a pause. “I just…I don’t know. This is probably really incriminating, but I always had this urge to run my fingers through your hair.”

Kaidan smirks. “You can admit you just wanted to mess it up.”

Shepard huffs.

“You loved me,” Kaidan says with a shrug. “You may not have known it, but you did.”

Shepard nods. “In retrospect, it was really fucking obvious, wasn’t it?”

“Little bit, yeah.”

“In my defense, I have literally never been attracted to anyone before. How was I supposed to know that’s what it felt like?”

Kaidan snorts. “So it never occurred to you that being jealous when I went on a date, or unnecessarily exposing yourself to a deadly virus because I was in trouble, and wanting to touch my hair all the time, might mean you were in love with me.”

“Yeah, the porch swing also should have been a clue,” he muses.

Kaidan rearranges himself to meet Shepard’s gaze head on. “You mean back at the orchard? When I feel asleep and drooled on your shoulder?”

Shepard nearly shoves him off the couch. “So you admit it. You’ve been denying that happened for years.”

Kaidan narrows his eyes as something else clicks into place. “Did you touch my hair then, too?”

Shepard blinks. “This is about you, not me.”

“You did.”

He rolls his eyes. “Ok, maybe…very briefly…I might have.”

Kaidan laughs and settles back against him. “I knew it.”

Shepard grumbles, but snakes an arm around him once more. “Well if it was so goddamn obvious why didn’t you just kiss me and get on with it?”

“Because how could I be sure?”

Shepard stares at him. “Boy, kinda hard to believe we saved the galaxy, isn’t it?”

Kaidan grins. “You said it yourself. How good can first timers really be?”

“Not first timers anymore, are we?” Shepard asks, in a soft voice that puts a flutter in Kaidan’s chest.

Kaidan shakes his head.

Shepard’s fingers flirt with his hair once more. “So…you didn’t actually answer my question.”

The flutter dissipates. “I didn’t date anyone, Sam.”

He runs a thumb along Kaidan’s hairline, expression growing solemn. “You know that would have been okay, right? You know…I’d want you to be happy.”

Kaidan catches his hand, heart jumping into his throat and I’ll be fine echoing in his ears. “Sam.”

So that’s what this whole thing’s about. The next Alchera. The next Mars. The next time they inevitably gamble their lives and lose. Kaidan swallows and tries to pull away from him. “This…this is one of the things I don’t want to talk about.”

“Yeah,” Shepard says, keeping him close and cupping his cheek. “But you need to hear it. I want you to be happy. Always. Whatever that means.”

“I am happy,” Kaidan argues. “With you.”

“And believe me,” Shepard assures him, “I hope that never changes. But I just…need you to know.”

Kaidan’s hands shake as he slides back into his waiting arms. “Please don’t talk about this.”

“Ok,” Shepard murmurs, wrapping him up tight. Kaidan closes his eyes and breathes him in. Solid. Real. Alive. And his. “How about, instead, we talk about all those midnight meals you fixed over the years?”

“What about them?” Kaidan asks, palm slipping under his shirt in search of a heartbeat.

Shepard’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “Started as just ‘hey, there’s a stash of peanut butter and crackers in a drawer if you need a pick me up.’ Next thing you were fixing full entrees in the middle of the night.”

“I was hungry,” Kaidan replies, hiding a small smile.

“Uh huh. You’re telling me the extra plate and fork you always had waiting had nothing to do with hoping I’d show up.”

“Mom always said that if I wanted to impress someone I should learn how to cook.”

Shepard nuzzles his neck before burying his fingers back in Kaidan’s hair. “Mmhmm. So you wanted to impress me, huh? Keep talking.”

Kaidan scoffs. “What, you want to try and tell me that you appearing like clockwork was pure coincidence?”

“You caught me,” Shepard concedes. “I fell in love with the Alenko family risotto recipe.”

Kaidan huffs. Shepard plants kisses up and down his throat, letting his corona flare just long enough to send a current through Kaidan’s nerves.

“Mmmm,” Kaidan murmurs, tilting his head back to give Shepard better access. “Must have been some risotto.”

“Yeah,” Shepard mumbles between kisses. “Except it turns out it definitely wasn’t the risotto I looked forward to all those nights.”

No. It wasn’t. For either of them. Eight years ago when Kaidan had walked into a bar on Arcturus and found Shepard sitting there, it was like something had just snapped into place. For both of them.

“Quarks,” Kaidan says softly.

Shepard pauses. “What?”

“Something Tali told me a long time ago,” Kaidan explains. “That certain types of quarks are tuned to one another on a quantum level, bonded across space and time. The more you pull them apart, the harder they try to snap back together.”

Shepard lifts his head and searches Kaidan’s face. Under Kaidan’s palm, Shepard heart beats strong and steady.

“I didn’t see anyone after Alchera,” Kaidan says. “It never occurred to me. Maybe…deep down I still felt that pull.” He runs a finger along Shepard’s cheek. “Because it turns out you were still out there.”

Shepard swallows, voice catching. “You are such a romantic. You know that?”

Kaidan’s gaze drifts to Shepard’s mouth. “Say it. Please?”

“I love you,” Shepard whispers. 

Kaidan brushes a finger across Shepard’s lips. So many times he’d wanted to kiss them and hadn’t. So many times he’d wondered what it would be like and never had the courage to find out. So many chances they’d lost in the debris now buried under the snow on Alchera.

Not tonight. Tonight Kaidan kisses him slow and deep, drinking in every sigh, every soft sound that slips from his throat, reveling in the feel of Shepard’s fingers tangled in his hair. It won’t make up for all the times they’ve missed.

But it’s a start.  

[smol-and-grumpy]

EUPHORIA - Chapter 5

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: He’s Dean Winchester, owner of a shady night club. She’s a journalist who has been asked to write an article to expose the indecency and debauchery that’s going on behind closed doors. But he’s also Dean Winchester, the boy who sat next to her in class. The boy who was too cocky for his own good.

Chapter Warning: Flangst. Feelings. Yeah, definitely feelings.

WC: 2822

A/N: Please share your thoughts with me, I’d love to hear your feedback.

Beta’d by @deanwanddamons​​​​​​ <3

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Dean paces around in his office. 

He’s restless and fucking agitated, muttering curses under his breath. Dean has had an awful sleep, if he has had any sleep at all, he doesn't really know. He remembered going to bed and then it was morning and there was still no fucking message. It’s like he’s in his teens or early twenties again, only that it was the other way around back then. He was the one who ghosted all those girls and he can’t lie, it’s a fucking awful feeling. Dean would go back and right his wrongs if he could. He’d be frank with them from the start instead of giving them hope. 

Karma has its own fucking way, apparently.

They should have met yesterday. She should have come around. He waited way too long and was grumpy all fucking night about it. Was grumpy because she didn’t send him a text to tell him that she can’t make it. Which, in hindsight, he thinks was so unlike her, but what does he know? Maybe she changed after all. Maybe she likes fucking with his head. He didn’t want to be like, all over her, so he didn’t call or text either.

Now, it’s close to opening time to a new day, and she still hasn’t contacted him. What’s the fucking etiquette about texting or calling someone? He doesn’t know, and it’s driving him fucking nuts!

He sits himself onto the couch in his office and rubs a hand over his face when his phone vibrates in his pockets. Dean takes it out, looks at the caller ID, hoping that it was her but he doesn't recognize the number. Maybe it’s her? Maybe she lost her phone and has a new number? But if she lost her phone she would have lost his number too, wouldn’t she? He doesn’t know, alright? Dean groans out of frustration before sliding his thumb over the screen to pick up.

“Hello?”

“Yes, hello. Is that Dean Winchester?” It’s a male voice.

“Who’s asking?” He hopes it’s not a fucking marketing call because Dean has zero patience for that and he would give the guy hell.

“This is Rufus Turner, I’m Y/N’s supervisor. I believe she’s been to your club and she reported in three nights ago, but we haven't heard anything from her since and she hasn’t picked up the phone when we have called. It goes straight to voicemail. It’s a long shot to be asking you this, but maybe you’ve heard from her? You were supposed to meet again yesterday, no?” Mr Turner pauses before he adds, “Look, I wouldn't normally do this, but she told me after the first meeting that she knew you from high school and that she was excited to meet you again, so I thought it would be okay to contact you. I’m sorry if I’m out of line.”

She’s really a good girl, isn’t she? Dean should have known that her boss would be aware of their meetings. She had always been a teacher’s pet back in high school.

But now they say that they haven’t heard from her and he hadn’t either. What if something had happened? He doesn’t even want to think about it as it makes his head spin. All of a sudden, Dean’s heart sinks to his balls. 

He clears his throat, “Don’t worry about it, alright? I haven’t heard from her either. She was supposed to show up yesterday, but she didn’t. Have you tried her apartment?”

“I have sent someone around but nobody answered.”

“Right. You mind giving me the address? I’ll follow up on it if that’s okay?”

“Sure,” Mr. Turner said. Dean couldn’t hang up fast enough after he had been given her address. 

Dean floors the Impala, abandoning his work for the night. 

*

She doesn’t live in the safest part of the city but she’s probably used to it. Dean is, too. They grew up not too far from each other after all. The difference between him and her, though, is that he could leave his life behind while she is still stuck here. And that doesn’t really sit right with him. He hoped that she would have gotten out as well. Hoped that she had gone on to be a best selling novelist or a successful journalist. He knew that it was her dream and honestly, if someone deserved to get out, it was her. More so than him. She always worked so hard while he just floated through the shitty educational system.

He takes the stairs, three steps at once. The staircase smells like fucking piss and he has to hold his breath.

When he arrives in front of her door, he needs a moment to compose himself before he knocks. When nobody answers, he tries again, louder this time, and lays his ear to the door. He could swear that he heard something shuffling inside. 

Dean quickly abandons the door and runs down the flight of stairs, almost stumbling out of the building. He runs to the back alley and climbs up the fire escape. It’s not like anyone even cares about him doing it around here. When he’s level with her apartment, he peaks in. The apartment is pitch black and he closes his eyes, willing them to adjust to the darkness quicker to be able to see fucking something. 

Opening them again, he takes another look inside, and he thinks he feels his heart taking a leap. She’s in there, in her bed, blanket pulled up to her chin. She’s obviously asleep but he needs to wake her up anyway because he needs to make sure that she’s o-fucking-kay. 

He knocks at the window and waits.

Knocks again when she still didn’t move. 

Dean tries a third time, and he swears if she doesn’t fucking open her eyes right now, he’s going to break in. 

He exhales when he sees that he doesn’t have to go all Chuck Norris on the window, because he can see her slowly opening up her eyes. He knocks some more to get her attention, “Sweetheart, here, look at me!”

He can see her lazy eyes, can see the sticky hair when she turns her attention to him.

“Can you open up for me? I promise you can go straight back to bed.”

She nods, her eyes empty. But she gets out of bed, walks over to turn at the window knob. She doesn’t wait for him to open it up before she returns into the comfortable cocoon that she’d made.

Dean tries to squeeze his big form through the window, damn near dislocated his fucking shoulder while doing it, but he couldn’t care, his full attention is on her. 

The air is thick inside and Dean decides to leave the window open. 

He quickly walks around her bed to be by her side. He sits down and she curls herself up on her side, facing him.

Dean places his hand to her forehead and quickly withdraws out of shock, before doing it again, “Jesus, you’re burning up,”

“‘M cold,” She mumbles.

“Did you eat anything? Did you drink enough water?” 

Her head lolls around. She’s trying to shake her head, he realizes, “‘M not hungry,”

Dean strokes her hair, leaving his hand on the side of her face. Her heat is almost unbearable, “I know you aren't, come on, gotta get something in your belly, alright?”

“Mmh-huh,”

“Right, I’ll be right back, okay?” He says and gets up from the bed.

“‘K,” 

He walks into her living room, and goes straight for the fridge of the small kitchenette. He finds nothing edible in there but a bottle of water. This is just great. Who knows how long she’s been in this state?

Fishing out the phone from his pants, Dean calls her supervisor. Mr. Turner picks up at the third ring.

“Yeah, Mr. Turner. I found her in her apartment. She runs a high fever. Say, uh, is there anyone I can contact who could come take care of her?”

“I’m afraid not,” Mr. Turner sighs, “I know that her mother is dead and I don’t recall her talking about any relatives,”

Yeah, Dean should have known, “Alright, thanks. I’ll take care of her. I’ll get her to contact you once she’s better,” 

They said their goodbyes and Dean takes a look around. Her phone’s still in the living room, but the battery is dead. Picking it up, he brings it with him when he walks back into her bedroom. He unscrews the bottle and lets her take a sip, propping her up so she can swallow better. 

“I’m taking you to mine, okay? I have plenty of food and water,”

It seems like the most logical thing. That way he can make sure that she’s alright and he can still be close should someone need him at the club. It’s the only thing he can come up with, really.

“‘K,” Her eyes are closing again. 

Dean stands up to close the window before he picks her up and walks her towards the front door. Her body shivers and she tries to bury herself deeper into him.

“‘S cold,”

“I know, sweetheart,” He whispers and picks up a key that’s hanging next to the apartment door. He tries to see if it fits and thankfully it does.

He closes the door and locks it before slipping the key into his pants pocket as well. 

Inside his car, he props her comfortably against the door and drives back to his apartment with a passed out Y/N. 

Dean gnaws on his bottom lip on the drive back, thinks it’s maybe fate that brought him to her. She does not have anyone else who she can turn to, and maybe it’s weird that he thinks that, but he’s actually kind of glad about it.

She’s still out of it when they arrive and Dean takes the back door and gets into the elevator to ride up to his loft.

There, he goes straight for his bed, strips the sheets from the duvets and covers her up with only the thin sheets. She’s still shivering but she’s going to get better. It’s not the first time he’s taken care of a sick person. He took care of Sammy more times than he can remember.

He leaves to call down for Cas, his club manager, to let him know that he won’t be in tonight, and plugs her phone into the charger. He is glad that they have the same phone. He also draws a bath, a little hotter than usual, because he will need time to feed her and the water will have time to go tepid. 

Dean changes into something comfortable and cooks up a soup he knows will help. When he finishes, he places all the things he needs onto a tray and carries it over to her.

Sitting down, he touches her forehead. She’s still burning up.

“Hey, Y/N,” He pulls her up into a sitting position.

“Hmm?”

“Open your eyes, come on, sweetheart, you gotta drink,” He places a straw to her mouth and watches her open up her eyes. Her lids probably feel heavy as hell because she’s fighting to keep them open. 

She takes sips of the water. At least there’s that. Dean tries the soup next. He has already mixed it with cold water so it won’t burn her tongue. The goal is to get something into her that has anti-inflammatory effects. 

He watches her suck at the straw and her eyes are half closed again. She swallows loudly and Dean grins for the first time this evening, “Good girl, that’s good, sweetheart,”

Her eyes are almost closing but the glass of soup is empty and she’s already shifting around in bed, trying to make herself comfortable. Dean has to pull her right up, “We gotta get you in a bath, Y/N.”

She frowns and pouts. He thinks it’s so cute it’s not really fair, “Why?” She whines a little.

“Gotta get you to cool down, baby—” Dean pauses. The word slipped out without thinking and he stared at her but she’s kind of out of it again already, so phew!

He scoops her up, carries her to the bathroom. Once in there, he strips her off her shirt. She’s not wearing a bra so her tits are bare to him but he tries to be good and not stare at them too long. Next, he rids her off her pj pants and pulls her panties down with them. He forgot to take some of her clothes with him and made a mental note to text Cas to get Claire to go buy some clothes for Y/N.

When he has her naked, he tries not to groan out loud, tries to keep his mouth shut and his dick in check because it’s already half hard. Dean places her into the tepid bath water and she whines, “‘S cold,” 

Dean kneels down next to the tub, braces his forearms on the ledge and rests his chin on it, “I know, just a little, okay? We gotta cool you down,”

She pouts with half closed eyelids. Dean thinks that he probably can’t leave her alone for too long because he’d hate if she would fall asleep and drown. So he just goes out quickly to grab his phone. He’s right by her side in a heartbeat and sits down to text Cas that he needs to send Claire out for a clothes run right now while the stores are still open. 

After the bath, he wraps her up in a towel to dry her off, sitting her down to brush her teeth with a new toothbrush he broke off a pack. He forgot a shirt so he runs out, comes in with a simple white t-shirt. He takes the toothbrush out of her mouth to rinse it, puts it back into the holder where his toothbrush already is and pulls the shirt over her head, helping her with her arms. He’s fucking hard by now, even if he tries not to look at her but she’s in his fucking shirt and she doesn’t wear panties. How is his dick supposed to be acting?

Dean carries her back to bed and she buries her face into the crook of his neck. It’s still hot, but it’s much better already. At least there’s that. 

“Dean, ‘m cold,” She mumbles into his skin and it makes all the hairs on his body stand up because it’s the first time that she calls him by name tonight. It makes him happy that she knows it’s him. 

“I know, sweetheart, I’ll get you to bed, okay?” 

“Mmh-hhm,”

She clings on to him and he has to pry her arms from around his neck. He covers her with the sheet, “I’ll be in the living room, you need to rest, Y/N,”

Her eyes are already closed, “Stay?”

Dean lets out a huff of air, his lips curve up into a smirk, “Okay,” He walks around and climbs in with her and she turns herself, curls up against his body in search of more warmth.

 *

 About an hour later, Cas knocks at his door and Dean drags himself up and returns with a bag full of clothes. He isn’t sure if they’ll fit nor is he sure if Claire was the right choice to let go clothes shopping for Y/N but he hopes that at least one of the things would not make her look like a rebellious teen.

Dean takes his laptop and props himself on the couch, thinks about going through some emails since she’s sleeping peacefully but he gets disturbed by a ringing of a phone.

Her phone.

It’s almost midnight, who would call her?

He gets up to look at her phone, sees the name and frowns. 

Jody Mills.

Dean picks up on instinct, forgetting for a second that it’s not his phone and regrets it immediately. 

“Hello,” He says, claps his hand over his face.

“Who’s there?”

“Dean,” He pinches the bridge of his nose. 

“As in fucking Winchester?”

“Yeah,” He says, “that’s not what people call me but, yeah.”

“What are you doing with Y/N’s phone?” Jody can be so fucking loud, he has to hold the phone a little further away from his ear. 

“Listen, if you want to talk to her you might wanna try in a couple of days. She’s sick and has a high fever. I don’t think she’s coherent enough to listen to your whining about your daughter.”

“Oh, my god, you got her under your control too, don’t you?”

Dean groans, “Oh come on, you can’t possibly blame me for everything! I did nothing!”

Jody hangs up before he could. And boy, is Dean mad that he isn’t the one to hang up first.

Chapter 6

[intothesoul]

Charmed Imagine Part 4

September 2020 update Part 4

Chris Halliwell x reader

Please note that I do not own charmed or any of the already pre existing characters. This storyline follows that of the original show x

Secrets from the past...

Recently, in light of this difficult time for everyone I have found the inspiration to continue with this story. After a few years of hardships we have to take this confinement as positively as we can. Sorry this has taken me so long to do. Things as well as University have been so time consuming, but here comes a long awaited chapter! Thank you to everyone for the support. I wish everyone the best, and since we’re all stuck at home you can look forward to many more chapters to follow. Xoxo

Quick note - if you like this story please do me a massive favour and re blog. I know a lot of people don’t know how to search using tags and I really want them to be able to read this as I have a passion for writing this story xxx

Chapter Four.

Y/N’s POV

I can’t believe what I’m seeing. My mom? She’s here? But I don’t have a mom? At least not one that raised me anyway. I had never even seen a picture of my mother, and I defiantly haven’t had a conversation with her before. Surely, there’s no denying it, she lookes just like me. Or maybe I should say I look just like her...

“Come on Y/N, those groceries won’t move themselves! I promised Piper I’d have them ready for her when she gets back from the restaurant.” -Wait restaurant?! What the hell is going on. Piper doesn’t have a restaurant? At least not yet anyway... What about the club?

As if by instinct I went onto moving the bags into the kitchen when something caught my eye. I was drawn to the pictures on the manor walls. Wait- how is this even possible? These pictures - they’re completely different! There are still pictures of Piper, Pheobe and Paige, but- now there’s more. Years worth of new photos. Now everyone looks much older, there are these children I’ve never seen before. - Photos of Wyatt growing up? - But - wait! am I in the future!? But that’s Impossible! - I’m not from the future- my mother’s not from the future! Something is defiantly wrong.

“Hellooo, earth to Y/N....” The women said waving her hand infront of my face. “Sorry- I... I don’t think I’m supposed to be here.” She gave me a weird look before she burst into laughter. “Well of course you are honey, were supposed to help Piper with dinner. Everything has got to be perfect, it’s been so long since everybody’s gotten together.”

After finishing what she was doing she noticed a picture I was staring at. “Awwh, I remember this.” She laughed. - In the frame was a picture of what looked like another family dinner, Piper, Pheobe, Paige, Leo - and- other people I had never seen before. There were two men one next to Pheobe and another with Paige. Sitting towards the front of the table were three children. A blonde haired boy and next to him there was another with light brown hair. They had been sat next to a girl with y/c/h and y/c/e. They seemed close. My mother was in the picture too sitting next to another man. Is he suppose to be my dad?

“We used to have dinners like this all the time. Do you remember? Well, before everyone became so busy. I’m really glad we got to help throw this together tonight. Just like old times. Except the only difference now is we don’t have to worry about you and Wyatt getting into trouble.” She laughed as she said this.

Wait this isn’t right- I’m defiantly not supposed to be here- I was there during Wyatt’s birth- how can I be here in the manor now, with these new childhood photographs? I grew up with him- with my mother.. No- no I didn’t. I’ve never my mom. She died. Died some time after I was born. I was raised by Grams and Prue. So what the hell am I doing here? What is this- this place?

For some reason I felt no control over my actions. It was like I was in a dream. One I couldn’t wake up from. I tried, it just didn’t work. My body moved on it’s own. It was so natural. I was in the manor cooking with ‘my mother’. This wasn’t something new or different to me, I did this with Piper all the time. It just felt so familiar, that’s what scared me.

“I shouldn’t be here.” Reasserting that aloud changed everything. The other women stopped, looked back at me with tears in her eyes. “why would you say that. Of course you should be here Y/N, look around, this is what you’ve always wanted. Family. You have a family here. You belong here.”

Now my own tears were threatening to fall, “No. You’re not her, you’re not real. Yes, this is everything I could have wished for. It’s all I’ve ever wanted. But it doesn’t matter if it isn’t real. You died, I was deprived the chance of knowing you. We never had family dinners together but I still had a family, It may not have been perfect but it was damn well good enough. If you don’t mind it’s time I get back to them.”

Tears were running uncontrably down my face, but all I really felt at this point was anger. Whatever this place was, whoever sent me here they’re going to pay as soon as I find my way out..What happened next was so fast. The thing that looked like my mother was grabbing my arm. Refusing to let me go.

“Don’t you think I wanted you to have all of this, to know your real family. It wasn’t my fault. I had to sacrifce what I wanted, the future I wanted to give you. It was the only way. To give you your best chance, your only chance.”

What the hell was she talking about? Why is this happeneing? Is any of what she’s saying true? Does it even really matter, I couldn’t I can’t take it anymore all I want to do is get out. I closed my eyes wishing only for escape. The next thing I knew, I was overcome with this strange feeling. It was as if I was floating. I opened my eyes to see I was surrounded by small white lights, when they had faded away I was standing in a dark cave.

“What the-”, in-front of me was a dark alter right next to a pool filled with water. As I continued to look at my surroundings I heard someone cry out in pain. “Chris!? Oh my god!” He was lying behind me collapsed with an arrow in his side. “What the hell happend! Where is this place!?” I grabbed a cloth I found nearby and tried to use it to stop the bleeding. “Agrh, this is hopeless. We need Leo. The dark lighter’s poisen is killing you.”

“No we can’t call for Leo, not until we’ve helped the Charmed ones escape the other parrellel dimensions.” He said as he groaned in pain.

Wait so that’s what that was? The desire demon. A short while later the charmed ones are freed from the demon and returned to the cave, just as I had been. That was all the excuse I needed. Chris was dying, I had no choice but to call Leo. “Leo!” - Leo orbed in. “Leo- it’s Chris, he’s hurt. Can you heal him please?” Leo rushes down the heal Chris, once he did that he healed Wyatt and orbed us all back to the manor.

Back at the manor, Piper had gone to put Wyatt to sleep, Leo followed after her. Thankfully his fever had gone down. But I couldn’t help but think about the demon. How was he able to trap us in separate worlds so easily? More importantly, what kind of world did he send me to? I couldn’t shake the feeling it left me inside. I needed to talk to someone, and for some reason my mind decided it had to be Chris. I was prepared to search the house for him, until I found him lurking in the room next to Wyatts bedroom. ‘That nosey whitelighter! Is he seriously ease dropping on Piper and Leo!? Listening in on their private conversation?!’

*clears throat* “Umm, Chris- what do you think you are doing?” I seemed to have surprised him, “what!- nothing, I was just coming to check in with how Wyatts doing. -Plus there’s that disciplinary hearing Leo’s arranged for me with the rest of the elders.”

“I’m sorry, what? Why would Leo do that...”

“Why? - Oh- Maybe because he probably has it out for me. Some Elder he is. I mean- man! You really gotta give it to the guy, he’s the only one to completely focus on his crippling paranoia and ignore the fact that I nearly died saving you all from the relaity demon.

And there is was. Back to his Irritating old self. You never would have guess the man was on the brink of death an hour ago. He’s so self involved! Can’t this guy be anymore infuriating!?

“Realax Chris.” I rolled my eyes. “I’m sure it isn’t anything personal. That’s just how Leo is. He’s protective.” Truth be told, I guess I also was a little suspicious, I just had this feeling. This little inkling in the back of my head. He was up to something, or at least he was hiding something. And I know Leo. He wouldn’t just act like this for no reason. Would he?

Chris didn’t say anything after that. He just looked at me for a while, the look in his eyes. I couldn’t make it out at first. It was like he wanted to say more. Once I looked at him deeper I realised it was longing, sincere. He walked away, and it left me speechless.

Tag list

@princess-of-the-fandoms @goneanonymous @iidontgiveafuckuniverse @samkysnks

If anyone else would like to be in this tag list - please feel free to comment 💜

[twomoonstwosuns]

sick day.

back to you [series masterlist]

previous part · next part

pairing: professor!poe dameron x reader

warnings: swearing, smut in a dream (18+), heavy amounts of fluff

word count: 4.0k

a/n: i’m sorry for the delay, it’s been a weird week. i hopefully won’t make you wait as long for the next part. this is kind of a filler chapter, but i hope you guys enjoy it still! the poe dameron x reader tag hasn’t been working so if you’re missing updates, blame Tumblr. 

also thank you @dameronsgalaxygal for helping me when i was stuck <3

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

“Baby, fuck you feel so good.”

Poe gripped your hips, sliding you to the edge of his desk and sliding his cock into you. The hand on the back of his neck tightened, grabbing some of his curls in its grasp at the intrusion. Your mouth was on the base of his neck, decorating it with different sized bruises. One particular bite to his pulse with a tight clench of your pussy made him groan loudly and you quickly pulled his mouth down to yours with a tug of his tie.

“Do we have to worry about you being loud?” You breathed heavily. Poe lifted your legs higher up on his waist, the new angle allowing him to drive deeper into you. A loud gasp left your lips as your eyes fluttered closed and a smirk crossed his face. He leaned down to your ear, taking the shell of hit in his mouth. 

“You know what I’ve thought about?” He said lowly, his breath hot against your ear as he slowed his thrusts. You gave a quiet, strangled moan as a response as he bit down on it. “Taking my tie, tying you up. Completely at my mercy.”

His hand was on the side of your neck, his thumb slowly rubbing up and down the front of your throat. You were a trembling mess, the thought of him putting just a little more pressure there enough to make you come hard right on the spot. 

“I could—fuck yes, Poe—get into that.” Poe’s mouth covered yours, swallowing the sounds coming from you. You giggled against his lips as an item fell off of his desk from the harsh movement against it. 

A knock on his office door made you both freeze, horrified looks on your faces as you looked at each other and then at the door. 

“Just a sec!” Poe yelled before dropping his voice to a whisper. “Get under my desk.”

You both scrambled as quietly as you could, pulling your pants up and fixing your shirts. You tucked yourself underneath his desk, feeling very grateful for the backing on the front of the desk. Poe tamed his hair the best he could as he unlocked his door and opened it, immediately greeting the person on the other side. 

“Ackbar, how are you?”

“I’m good, I’m good, I just wanted to run something by you.” Ackbar said, nodding towards the door handle. “Who are you trying to keep out, Dameron?”

His tone was suggestive, but Poe shut it down with a shake of his head. “Some of my students like to barge in and hang out in here because of my very lenient open door policy and I have several phone calls I’m taking today. Including one in five minutes, so you have to make it quick.”

Ackbar left the door open as he sat down across from Poe’s desk. Poe sat back in his chair, scooting all the way in so his entire lower half was underneath the desk to shield you. 

“So, what’s up?” Poe spoke, providing cover for the movement you were making under his desk to make room for his legs. 

“What do you think about forgoing a final exam for anyone who’s averaging a C in the class?” Ackbar asked. “I mean, if they want to take the final to try and raise their overall grade they can, but if they fail it’ll count against them.”

Poe squirmed in his seat as he felt your hands on his thighs, rubbing slowly and traveling higher. His leg hit the underside of his desk when he felt the vibration of his zipper being slowly pulled down, which he told Ackbar was a muscle spasm. 

“You’re teaching two hundred freshman over four lectures, you sure you want to do that?” Poe said slowly, the attempt to keep his voice level and controlled extremely difficult. 

“It’s definitely less grading for me to do, but I was also thinking that—“

Everything Ackbar was saying was going in Poe’s ear and right out the other as the soft skin of your hand made contact with his cock, applying firm pressure and pumping him. He wasn’t entirely soft yet and a few strokes of your hand brought him back to fully hard. He coughed to cover the groan that almost erupted from him. 

“Here’s my opinion,” Poe said, interrupting Ackbar, sucking in a breath as your thumb brushed over the head of his cock. “I’d do it for seniors but freshman? They’ll most likely take the easy way out and skip it. Don’t let them settle for mediocre grades. Not one of them will willingly take the final.”

“Alright, you’re right.” Ackbar put his hands up in surrender. Poe felt his cock start to tighten up, the thought of coming in your hand under the desk with Ackbar just a few feet away stoking a fire inside him. Instead, Poe felt you carefully tuck him back in his pants and skillfully disguised the deep groan he let out as one of agreement. “You catching the game later?”

“I’m going to try.” Poe looked at his watch. “Sorry man, I have to take a call in a minute.”

“No worries,” Ackbar stood up, Poe doing the same and straightening his shirt so it covered more of his groin area as he walked towards the door. “You wanna grab a beer at Maz’s later? Watch the game?”

“Yeah, sounds good.”

Ackbar shook Poe’s hand and patted him on the back. “Have fun with those calls. Take it easy, Dameron.”

As soon as the door shut and the lock clicked, Poe let out an exasperated laugh. You crawled out from under his desk laughing so hard that you had to lean against his desk to keep yourself from falling over. Poe came around to his desk again, laughing as he plopped back into his chair.  

“I can’t believe you did that,” he said in disbelief, though the smile on his face said he wasn’t the least bit upset about it. 

“Exhilarating though.” You leaned down and pecked his lips, your hands going back to his pants and unbuckling them for the second time as you got on your knees. 

“Let me finish what I started.”

Poe woke with a jolt as a cough rocked through him, groaning at the congested pain it left behind in his chest. His eyes screwed shut and his groan grew louder at how turned on he felt at that moment, knowing he had no energy to take care of it and no energy to enjoy you taking care of it for him. Poe looked up just as you came in, a cup of water in one hand and a sleeve of crackers in the other. You set the items on his nightstand and sat on the edge of his bed, rubbing his back. 

“You ok?”

“No,” he said, shoving his head into the pillow. “I was having a good dream about you.”

“Oh yeah?” Poe pushed his hips into the mattress, looking for relief. You stifled a laugh. “Oh, that kind of dream. Do you want me to help you out?”

“No, ‘m too tired.”

You leaned down to his ear, your voice lowering. “You know, I have those dreams about you too.”

Poe reached over and squeezed your thigh. “Y/N…”

“Baby…” you mocked his whine. Poe shivered and you saw goosebumps appear on his skin. You placed your hand against his forehead and then the cheek that wasn’t resting on the pillow. “You might have a fever, do you have a thermometer?”

“I don’t think so.”

You went into his bathroom and looked for anything that would help. You found some ibuprofen and you helped him sit up enough to swallow them. Pulling the blanket up around him, you leaned down and kissed his head. 

“Sleep. I’ll be in the living room if you need me.”

You left the door opened a crack, enough to hear if he needed you and for Beebs to come and go as he pleased. He was already snoring by the time you got to his kitchen to make yourself a cup of tea. 

You knew Poe wasn’t feeling great when you talked to him the night before and you were surprised when you got an email saying he was canceling class. In the two semesters worth of classes you’d had with him, he’d never canceled a class without notice. You skipped your last class of the day and went straight to Poe’s. He tried to argue with the very little energy he had that you didn’t have to skip class to take care of him, but the minute you got him to lay in bed, he was completely submissive. 

Your phone vibrated in your pocket with an incoming call and you grabbed it to see it was Jessika calling. 

“I’m at the grocery store, do you need anything?”

“Actually yeah, do you mind picking up some things to make soup and dropping them off at Poe’s? He’s sick and he has nothing here to help him feel better.”

“Yeah you bet, send me a text?”

“I will. I’ll send you his address too. Text me when you get here.”

“No problem, see you in a bit.”

You tossed your phone onto the table and grabbed your backpack, setting yourself up on his couch. You had a long list of things that needed to get done, midterms coming up quicker than you were prepared for. You also had to order your robe for graduation so you had time to get it hemmed if needed. But an assignment that was due the next day required your immediate attention. You opened your book and you’re notebook and dove right in. 

Fifteen minutes later and you’d read the same paragraph four times. You alternated between staring at your book and tapping your pen against the page to staring to scrolling through apps on your phone. There was no motivation to do anything productive. What you really wanted to do was curl up with Poe under his blankets and just sleep, but you were already risking getting sick by being there and cuddling with him would pretty much guarantee it. Throwing your stuff aside, you walked over to the shelves that lined Poe’s living room, seeing if there was maybe a book he had that would be far more interesting than reading about marketing and trade shows. You looked through all the titles of his books, some maybe’s coming to your head when you spotted a picture frame stuck between a book and the back of the shelf. You carefully moved the book, grabbing the picture frame and wiping the dust off of the glass. 

He looked just like her. Thick and curly raven-hair sat on top their heads. They shared the same eyes, deep brown like milk chocolate, though hers were just a bit lighter. Their smiles matched, easy and laidback like it took no effort at all. You recognized the ring on her finger as the one worn around Poe’s neck. In the picture, Poe was mid-laugh as his mother carried him on her back, his tiny arms wrapped around her neck and his head against hers. You felt a pang of guilt in your chest. The way Poe talked about her and seeing the picture that you found, they were clearly very close. You couldn’t even begin to imagine how devastated Poe must’ve been when she passed. 

Poe had said he’d forgiven you for what you said, but you still hadn’t forgiven yourself. If you were being honest with yourself, you didn’t know if you’d be able to. 

Your phone vibrated in your hand, the message telling you that Jessika had arrived. You told her the code to enter the building and a few minutes later, there was a knock on the door. 

“Thank you so much for doing this,” you said as you opened the door, immediately taking the bag from your roommate. 

“No problem at all.”

Jessika looked around behind you, her eyes curious. You chuckled and held the door open.

“Come on in.”

“Inside a professor’s apartment,” Jessika said as she stepped in. She looked around the room when Beebs came up and jumped on her. You tried to apologize and tell Beebs to stop but Jessika just leaned down and picked him up. 

“Ah, the infamous Beebs,” she laughed as he licked her face. “You really are cute, aren’t you?”

You stepped into the kitchen and put a couple bottles of gatorade in the refrigerator, leaving out the ingredients to start making soup with and digging around the cupboards for the items you’d need to make it. 

“So, what’s he sick with?” Jessika asked. 

“A cold from what I can tell. He doesn’t have a thermometer so I don’t know if he has a fever.”

“How’s he doing?”

You sighed heavily. “Poe’s amazing and wonderful in many ways, but he is still a man who thinks he’s dying because he has a cold.”

“You hear that, Beebs?” Jessika said in Beebs’ pointed ear. “He’s got a man-cold. And they’re supposed to be the superior sex.”

“Yeah, supposed to be.”

Beebs wiggled in her arms and she let him down, watching him walk off. You watched Jessika laugh quietly at the adorable dog before looking back around the apartment, giving a small nod of approval. 

“Hey Jess?” You spoke quietly, your voice hesitant and unsure. You walked over to Jessika, who had been looking at you with a questioning look. “I’m sorry.”

Jessika opened her mouth to speak and you put a hand up. “I’m sorry for being a bitch, for treating you like shit, and taking forever to forgive you. You said things and I said things and even though what you said hurt, it doesn’t mean you’re a terrible person and I’ve been treating you like you were. And I’m really sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry.” Jessika replied and you shook your head. 

“Yes, I do.”

“Well, I forgive you then. Because I’ve missed you.”

Holding your arms out, Jessika met you in a tight hug. You really had missed her too. She had been there for you when she didn’t have to be, and thinking back you were surprised she was because you felt you had treated her like shit. Beebs jumping up on both your legs trying to be included in the hug tore you apart, Jessika leaning down and scratching his ears. 

“When we’re done with school and all that and it’s fine for you guys to be in public together, I’d really love to sit down with Prof—Poe.” Jessika said, the use of his first name foreign on her tongue but the effort graciously appreciated by her friend. “You know, get to know him. As one of your best friends, it is my job to tell him that if he hurts you I’ll destroy him.”

You chuckled. “I’m sure we could arrange that if you really want to. I’ve met his friends, seems only fair that he gets to know mine.”

“Exactly!” Jessika said. “Alright, I have to get going. I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah, I have class a 7:45a.m and he needs to sleep, so I’ll be back later tonight.”

Jessika squeezed your shoulder as she passed and you thanked her once more before she left. You set to work, setting up everything you’d need and pulling up the recipe saved on your phone. 

Chopping vegetables in your boyfriend’s kitchen was oddly domestic, like you were waiting for him to come home from work and you were cooking dinner. You wondered what you would be doing at that very moment had you not pursued your professor that Halloween night. Would you have given Ben another chance? Would you be in a relationship at all? You pondered the what if’s, yet each scenario couldn’t bring you to the level of happiness that was your reality. You really thought you had lost it all during that fight and you would never go another day without being grateful to Poe for forgiving you.

As you added all the ingredients together, your mind went to the dark place you tried so hard to push to the back of your mind. Graduation was just two months away. What was going to happen after your relationship graduated and the lease for your apartment was up and you moved back home? Poe certainly didn’t act like he would dump the relationship just because you were done with school, but you couldn’t help but think that way. You copped it up to having developed a small fear of abandonment, no doubt thanks to the sudden departure of your father. 

Slow, heavy footsteps filled the empty silence as you adjusted the temperature on the cooker. Poe slid his arms around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder.

“You didn’t sleep very long,” you said.

“Can’t sleep anymore. Smells good,” Poe mumbled, leaning into you to see what was in the cooker. You gently bumped your head against his. 

“I’m glad you can smell,” you said. “It’s my grandma’s recipe. My mom used to make it for Tallie and I when we were sick. It’s done now, eat some. You need to eat.”

You moved around each other, him scooping up soup and you grabbing him something to drink. 

“Did I have all of this stuff?” Poe asked, looking at all the ingredients he could see in the soup as he walked to sit on the couch. 

“No, Jessika dropped off stuff. You have nothing here,” you teased, taking a seat next to him. Your expression turned a little more serious. “She wants to sit down and talk with you, you know. Get to know you. When the school year’s over. If that’s ok with you.”

“I’d like that,” he said, taking in a spoonful of soup and groaning at how nice it felt against his sore throat. “I didn’t know you could cook.”

“I still have some secrets left,” you smirked. “I’m glad you’re feeling better enough to eat something. I was starting to worry a little bit.”

“I’m hoping I can kick this in a few days. I’d hate to cancel class again.” You assured Poe that no one would be mad if he did, to which he laughed and then immediately coughed. You hoped he’d be able to get rid of it soon, too. “You’re going to Cabo for spring break, right?”

“Yeah, with a few girlfriends from high school. Why?”

“I just forgot.” There was something about the tone of his voice that sounded nervous, but he didn’t say anything else. You and him had discussed your spring break plans and you knew he was going to California for a few days with Finn and Rey. 

“So, I’m—“ Poe started, pausing to figure out how he was going to ask what he wanted. You urged him to continue. “After California, I’m spending a few days at my dad’s. If you can make it work, would you want to spend two or three of those days with me?”

Your mouth dropped and a small smile started to form on your face. 

“You want me to meet your dad?” Poe shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal, but it was to him. And it was to you too. 

“Yeah, I do,” he said, putting his near empty bowl on the coffee table. You were happy to see he was able to finish most of it. “I was thinking you could fly out Thursday and we’d get a late flight back here on Saturday night so the chances of running into people from here are slim.”

“That’s very specific, how long have you been thinking about this?”

“Since we last talked about spring break. I just didn’t know how to ask you.”

“Were you scared to ask me?”

“I thought it might be too soon to be meeting family.”

“It might be,” you said softly and Poe nodded in understanding, but his face fell a little. You placed your hand on his leg. “But I still want to.”

“Yeah?”

You nodded and Poe’s face lit up. This was so important to him, like meeting his friends had been. And it stirred something in your chest that he already wanted you to meet his dad. It gave you more hope for your future together. “I’ll call my friends tomorrow and see if we can figure it out.”

Poe put his hand on top of yours and squeezed it, not exactly what he wanted to do but trying not to heighten your chances of getting sick. “I’ll get the soup put away, do you want to watch a movie before you leave?”

You nod and get up at the same time as him, grabbing the blanket from the floor and stretching out on the couch. You opened up Netflix and scrolled through, deciding on a movie that you’d both seen before in case Poe fell asleep. Poe turned a couple lights off as he came back, taking the blanket from you and settling between you and the couch. Half of his body laid on top of yours, legs tangled together and his cheek resting in the middle of your stomach. His arm laid along your other side, hand curved in so his fingers grazed against your side. You were his body pillow and you didn’t mind one bit. 

Poe was a physically affectionate person. He loved to be touching you in some way, from something simple like holding your hand or throwing your legs across his lap to wrapping you completely around him while you laid in bed together, limbs so intertwined you wouldn’t know where he started and you ended. You weren’t surprised to find out that Poe was extremely cuddly when he wasn’t feeling well. A lot of people got that way. 

You started the movie and brought your hand up to run your fingers through Poe’s hair, gently massaging his scalp as you did. You had learned pretty quick that his hair was a weakness for him, something that both relaxed him and excited him depending on what you were doing with it.

It had only been about a month since your first date but you were so incredibly happy with Poe. You adored everything about him, especially the way he treated you. He didn’t talk to you or see you or treat you like a naive girl in her early twenties. He respected you as an equal, an adult in an adult relationship. It was so early in your relationship, but you couldn’t help but think about a future with him. 

This was the real thing for you. You were young and very well aware that a lot of people your age didn’t get into serious relationships. But you really wanted this to turn into something long-term. You hoped he did too. 

He had your heart; completely, fully.

“You’re staring,” Poe mumbled. You chuckled. 

“I can’t help it. 

He looked up at you, his chin on your stomach. “Thanks for taking care of me,” he said quietly, placing a kiss on your stomach over your shirt. You smiled softly down at him.

“Of course,” you said. “If I wasn’t, you’d be curled up in the fetal position starving and dehydrated.”

“I would not.”

“You would too. You’re such a baby when you’re sick.”

Poe nuzzled your stomach, the action making you giggle when his two day old stubble made contact with your skin. You relaxed into him, the hand that was in his hair traveling down to rub soothing circles on his back. Within thirty minutes of the movie starting, you were both fast asleep. 

When you were sick with a cold a few days later, Poe was better prepared to tackle the cold. You slept in his bed all day in his bed and he took care of you the same way you did for him.

tag list [open!] - @ah-callie @darksideofclarke @leilei-draws @imaginecrushes @i-ievu @brianamaree @yeeintensifies @spider-starry @krazykatkay456 @fanfiction-trashpile @afootnoteinyourhappiness @easterncryptid @my-child-gaara @myrandom-fandomlife @onebatch--twobatch @the-cry-of-youth @p3nny4urth0ught5 @porgiez @umchrisevans @galaxy-of-stories @seeking-a-great--perhaps @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @dameronsgalaxygal @mserynlarsen @yougottakeeponkeepinon @linibirdimagine @goddamndameron

[thefanficmonster]

Beyond The Darkness

Corpse Husband x Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Angst, Relationship Struggles, Self-doubt, Insecurities, Swearing

Genre: Angst with Fluff Ending, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Y/N finally expresses their worries, reluctance and suspicions regarding their relationship with Corpse who is more than surprised to be hearing such confession, thinking their relationship couldn’t be more perfect. Well, perfect on the surface.

Requested by @cinnamonbun332  Hi darling! I’m so sorry it’s taken me so long to complete and post your request, but here it finally is! You asked for some heartbreaking and then heart-healing and I hope I delivered properly. Please enjoy! Love, Vy ❤

I didn’t choose to be insecure, I never wanted to be so anxious and self-conscious. No one can blame that on me for it’s something I’d get rid of within the blink of an eye if it were that easy. I didn’t choose to fall in love with Corpse either, it just happened. I was taken by storm by the feelings he awoke in me. It was terrifying and made me become a whole different person around him. I was torn between wanting him by my side at all times and never wanting to see him again for the purpose of those feelings dying down. That being said, I can’t be blamed for that either.

However, I can be blamed for one thing: accepting his offer for a date. I didn’t have to. I probably shouldn’t have accepted it just as much as he shouldn’t have brought it up. But, alas, I couldn’t help myself. That storm of emotions, that stirring lava within the volcano I was at the time was dying to seep out to the surface so it wouldn’t burn me from the inside out. Him asking me out on a date was practically the vessel for me to finally have a chance at expressing myself and how I feel and that’s something I’ve never been able to do properly or openly. 

But with Corpse it has always been so easy.

Or...it was so easy.

It was easy until I started overthinking everything. Every interaction between us, between him and his friends. Between our two separate worlds.

I now have a hard time seeing us as a union, like we’re living together on the same planet of understanding and companionship. No, we’re more alike two planets in orbits near one another that are close but not close enough. Never destined to touch. Where I once saw light, I now see nothing. Almost as if I flipped the switch to my happiness myself. I wouldn’t be surprised if I did, it wouldn’t be my first time. I have a way of always finding a way to kill my happiness, put an end to my bliss. The key to doing so is what I already mentioned: overthinking, underestimating, undermining, over-worrying. In short: allowing my mind to torture me.

Sadly, it’s also forcing me to torture others.

At the moment, I’m spending day four back into my apartment, having come back with the excuse that I needed to get some piping fixed in the kitchen and needed to watch over the plumbers as they worked. I think Corpse bought that only halfway but if he didn’t believe me, he didn’t show it and I’m grateful for it. Or at least I think I am. Obviously, there was a part of me which screamed ‘See, he doesn’t care!’ at me when all he said in response to my announcement was ‘Oh, ok’. Of course, I didn’t pay that voice much mind then, but it’s starting to creep back in now and I really don’t know what to distract myself with to avoid hearing it. It’s not like I can internally deafen myself to stop it from eating away at me slowly but intently and with a scary determination that even I myself don’t have. Sadly, the pessimistic side of me does.

Truth be told, I wasn’t planning on staying home alone for four days straight, thinking I wouldn’t be able to make it that long without Corpse, thinking my loneliness would kill me. But, now that I am indeed alone, for some reason, I don’t feel really lonely, if at all. It’s refreshing and new, like a new but old perspective. Basically one I’ve missed for quite some time now without knowing that I did. Who knew going back to my empty apartment would be the cure to my messy head. Well, not a direct cure, but I have managed to map out at least a small portion of what’s going on up there, mend some of the damage I’ve done to myself.

Why do you always do that?

There’s that voice again, and some audacity it has! I’m not doing anything to myself! That voice is!

Saying that in court would easily land you in a mental facility, you know.

Fucking touché.

I think the reason why this is happening to me at the moment is because it’s been exactly four days since I last contacted Corpse. Or since he last contacted me. See what I’m going for here? See how toxic my mindset can be? Yeah, even I can hardly believe it sometimes. Like, how can something so dark be part of me - someone who used to be so cheerful and bubbly growing up. My nickname used to be ‘sunflower’ for a reason, but I might as well be a wilted willow now.

And who do you have to blame for that?

Will you fucking shut it!!!

As I’m in the midst of yet another self-argument, I near the doorbell ring, scaring me to the point I almost fall off my desk chair. I only then become aware of the blank MS Word document staring back at me. Throwing myself into work hasn’t been able to help me today. Instead of it distracting me from my struggles, it’s the other way around and I can’t fucking stand it.

Just like I’m beginning not to be able to stand myself. How Corpse and my friends do it, I have no idea. Well, they have it easy I guess, they don’t have to hear all the shit that happens in this beehive on my shoulders.

I lazily saunter over to open the door, not even thinking about looking through the peephole prior to turning the doorknob and swinging it open. That’s a mistake, considering that the mess I am is now face to face with Corpse. Let’s be honest, I’m past the point of stressing over how I look in front of him, we’ve been dating for almost a year now after all. However, this look on me right now is beyond disturbing. One that would leave him questioning if I need help or if I’m doing alright. The answer to both of those questions is no, by the way. Yes, to both.

“Corpse?“ I croak out, fighting my way out of the cloud of confusion surrounding me.

“Y/N?“ He replies, mimicking me though his confusion isn’t as much confusion as it is concern. Gotta say - rightfully so.

I shake my head as if awakening from a fever dream, basically hitting the ground head-first, “Um...yeah, uh, come in!” I finally manage to say, forcing my feet to step aside to allow him inside.

He nods and takes a step beyond the doorstep, cautious as though I’ve rigged the place with traps. I mean, ok, I’m weird, but not that weird. I’m not a complete psycho. At least not yet. Give me a few more months by myself. Or weeks. 

“I haven’t been here in so long...“ he mumbles, sounding almost as if he’s talking to himself. Before I could say anything, he wanders off into the kitchen, “Where are the plumbers?“

“What plumbers?“ I blurt out, unable to contain the widening of my eyes when I realize what I’ve said.

You. Fucking. Idiot!!!

“The ones you came here to monitor...?“ His answer sounds more like a question as well, both of us just staring at each other as we await what idiocy will leave my brain and come out of my mouth next.

The silence lasts for a few seconds before he breaks it by speaking up again, “There are no plumbers, are there?”

“No, not today! I mean- not right now.“ I resist the urge to smack my forehead with the palm of my hand in embarrassment. “They’ll come back...later! They were here up until an hour ago.“

Real smooth, Y/N. This is why you never play Among Us

Corpse looks around, even taking a peek over my shoulder before making a mock-confused expression as he shrugs his shoulders, “Your kitchen looks pretty tidy for being a place of such complex fixes happening.“

I let out a hysterical gust of laughter, squeezing my thumb so hard I might rip it off my hand, “Yeah, you know me, I like my living space tidy.”

He nods slowly, “Yeah, I know you. I know you’re not.“

The air gets caught in my throat when he eyes meet mine when he says that. I feel redness creeping up my neck, spreading across my cheeks and climbing up to my forehead and ears.

Oh you’d so be ejected right now

“Y/N, what’s really going on here? Why have you been avoiding me? Did I do something wrong? If so, please just tell me. This silent treatment and avoiding is killing me. If I didn’t come here I would’ve gone insane. You would’ve found my walls with writings on them...“ He stops talking abruptly, letting out a soundless sigh as though his soul left his body, his gaze softening with sadness, “That is, of course, if you were even planning to come back. Ever...“

“Of course I was!“ I exclaim, feeling my chest tighten at the hurt I see in his eyes, “I just...I needed time. I still do.“

“Time away from what?“ He asks, desperate to hear the answer no matter how much it could hurt him.

I honestly don’t know what to tell him. I have no idea what I’m running from. I don’t even know if I’m running, hiding, contemplating, I have no idea what I’m doing. Is he the problem? Am I? Are we the problem? Our relationship as a whole?

“I don’t need time from anything, Corpse. I just...I need some time with myself. With my own thoughts. I’m really torn, have been for quite some time now. I don’t know what I’m doing or what I’m supposed to do. I don’t know if I’m doing is the right thing. I don’t know if we are the right thing. I-...“ I buffer for a second, feeling the words start getting more and more tripped up as they climb up my throat. Eventually, they end up getting caught in an invisible net which doesn’t allow them to make it to my mouth, let alone leave it. Now at a loss for words, I let out a sigh of defeat, feeling my eyes welling up with tears, “I don’t know anything, damn it! I’m a mess. Why do you tolerate me? I’m no good to myself let alone to someone else!“

I don’t know where this outburst came from, but I’d be a liar if I said it wasn’t relieving. I feel like a popped balloon, letting out what’s been straining me from the inside for a long time now. Lord knows how Corpse took it, I can’t bring myself to look up at him, but all I know is that I finally did something I can officially deem right.

Suddenly, I feel the familiar touch of Corpse’s hands on my shoulders, pulling my chest flush against his, his arms wrapping around me, enveloping me in a tight embrace. His lips plans a kiss a the top of my head before he rests his chin there, holding me tightly.

“Why haven’t you told me any of this?“ He whispers, his voice emotional to the point of almost making me regret saying all that.

Almost...

“I didn’t want to worry you.“ I let out a half-hearted chuckle, “And I didn’t want you finding out what kind of nut-job you’re dating.“

He scoffs, “Even if you were a nut-job, Y/N - which, by the way, you’re not - I wouldn’t mind. I’m a nut-job for you. Utterly and completely crazy for you, babe. I’m always here for you, always there for you to talk to me, tell me all that’s going on in that busy head of yours. All you have to do is talk, and all I’ll do is listen.”

I sniff briefly, “Now you’re making me regret not saying it earlier.”

“Then I’m doing the right thing.“ He mutters, his tone suggesting I take the wheel of the conversation and say all I’ve been keeping within me until now.

“You see, I tend to enjoy certain things a lot. Get attached to people super quickly and easily. And then, after a certain period of time, I find myself rethinking and overthinking everything about that thing or person to the point I’m not even sure I like it - or them - anymore. At least not to the same degree as previously. I slowly start become unsure of everything around me, even my own thoughts and feelings. It’s almost like where I used to see light, there’s now darkness. Worst part is, I’m the one who put that light out for myself. I always do it to myself and then hate myself for it. It’s a vicious cycle that I can’t escape - killing my joy and blaming and despising myself for it.“ I sigh, nuzzling my face into his chest, “I just wish this curse avoided our relationship. You’re too good to me, I love you too much to lose you, Corpse.“

I feel his arms tighten their hold on me even more, pulling me even closer despite it not being possible. “Y/N, you can’t lose me. Not over that, not over anything. We all have our demons, you just gotta remember to hold onto me tighter than those demons are holding onto you. You gotta let me help you when you realize you can’t help yourself.” He gently pulls away from me, his hands now coming up to cup my cheeks as he gazes into my eyes, “You gotta learn to see beyond the darkness you surround yourself with. Beyond the darkness, that’s where I’m waiting for you. I’m always gonna be there. I’m a very patient guy, you know.”

I can’t help but laugh, suddenly feeling the bubbly giggles escaping from my chest, pressed out of me by the massive wave of relief that’s washed over my sore insides. Sore from the holding back and now even more so from letting go. But damn does it feel good.

“Looks like I don’t need a plumber but an electrician to fix this light I keep turning off.“ I say, pushing up on my toes to only barely touch my forehead to his. Luckily, he sees what I’m trying to do, so he leans down. “I need him to make it un-turn-off-able.“

Corpse smiles, humming approvingly, “I can help you with that. Starting with...“ and with that he tilts his head, his lips colliding with mine.

I gotta say: damn have I missed this feeling.

@maat-the-prescriptive  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @itsminniekat  @hacker-ghost  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios  @maehemscorpyus  @loraleiix  @letsloveimagines  @annshit  @i-cant-choose-a-username-help  @enigmaticmaze  @divine-artemis  @waterlilypat  @idontknowwhatthisisfam  @evi-ka  @classyandfabulous00  @redperson58  @lilysdaydreams @solowheein  @mythicalamphitrite  @axen-gers  @luckygirl144  @nj01  @buddyemily   @the-albino-lioness  @stardream14  @gdhdkfnn  @nomadicgypsyy  @preciousskye  @fluffysuicideunicornsworld  @o-kaelin  @manacharlotte  @awkward-youtube-trash  @lolalee24  @bonky-beerns  @meme-lord-and-savior-sebastian  @strawbrinkofdeath  @teenloves  @tams0527  @browneyespinkhair  @starstruckllamapuppy  @daisychains012  @y0ulooked  @tinytacosuitcaseflap @supernatural-is-my-only-life  @jula-pauline  @melodykitty  @just-that-bi-girl  @crazybutconfidentaf  @lowellshade @alphakees  @bellero  @weallneednamjesus  @starryhanji  @boiled-onionrings  @husherstan  @fockingwhore  @melaningoddessthings  @prettypastelpetals  @haleypearce  @godwhyamiawkward  @y-napotat  @daisychainyoonmin  @little-miss-rebel3  @free-wheelin-bi-sexual  @redmoon261 @darkacademic2  @wiseflamingoqueen  @into-the-end  @namikhai-i  @nastiablr  @thelittleplantlover  @mirktuan  @dont-hyuck @jjk-bunny  @vintagegothlover  @easygoingtheatre  @itsrandombooklover  @miiaivi  @emmybaybee  @befourgolden  @jjk-is-my-shit  @eternalteaaars  @spacebadgerx  @princesslunalight  @acequinn14  @samm48  @misselsbells06 @simp-lykawa  @fo-love  @marishimomura-blog  @therealglenncoco  @cinnamonbun332  @killtherandomness  @sanshinexxxsan  @fee-btheweeb  @press-lay  @cathleenpotgieter16  @jazzydoesstuff  @moonlxghtbay  @forestrain2000  @hyunjinhugs  @blood-of-fandoms  @lovellylies  @ukiyolixx  @simpforhpcharacters  @chrisdylan17  @parkerjisung  @pedernille  @theodonyous  @wineandionysus  @malfoystilinskii05  @morbid-x  @coryisagee  @jessewa26  @scoobydooluver97 @mindintheskies365  @raeanneinwonderland  @indecisive-empanada  @gluttonypalace  @loriane2503  @btsiguess-kpop  @khaoticbunny  @lucidlycactus  @smiithys  @rottenroyalebooks  @kpopgirlbtssvt  @fangirl-tc27  @fr0z3n-1  @notmesimpingfortechno  @shotarosleftpinky  @kunoi-chan  @idk-whats-wrong-with-me  @yikeroonie  @goldenstarofthunderclan  @poetry-and-tea  @ama-do-writing-stuff  @wishbonewolf  @emeraldxhope  @t0xick1tty  @kusuinko  @speakyourselfloveyourself  @sophia902103  @lo-manburg  @classsykittykat  @dmgama  @depressedpuppythatneedscoffee  @btsiguess-kpop  @akaashi-baby  @gun-jong-simp  @geschichtenfee  @yerapotato-wp  @browneyedgirl365  @thysagclub  @sparklycloudnight  @helloatomicshadow  @queentorresstuff @vtte @val-gal  @lucy-bunny17  @aaliyahh0  @katluckybear  @boyleanti  @straybids  @franchesca-791  @cosmicstorm19  @averyisbackinthetrashcan  @aomi-nabi  @xlanawriter  @allensimpsforcorpse

[snifflyjoonie]

House Call

In which after a week of contemplation, Jimin finally decides to call Min Yoongi.

snz-centric with Yoongi as the sickie and Jimin as the caretaker.

Word Count: 3325

FlowerShop!AU Part 2

Part 1 | Part 3

a/n: Um...surprise? 💀 Taking a break from my regularly scheduled request taking to bring you this pure fever dream word vomit. I went back and forth a lot on the prospects of continuing this AU and decided what the hell -- I had a few more ideas up my sleeve for our little florist yet. And I mean...a few of you asked if I’d be adding more to this AU ever so that technically makes this a request fulfillment, right?...right? Hell. We may even see more of these boys in the future. Who knows? Anyway! Without further delay, I hope you enjoy this random af extra content lol.

-

Oh, god. How long had the phone been ringing for, now? Surely for much longer than normal. 

Jimin paced nervously around his flower shop and chewed anxiously on his thumbnail. After a week’s worth of mulling it over, and some gentle (albeit persistent) encouragement from his friends, he had finally decided to give Min Yoongi a call. For one reason or another — and Jimin wasn’t entirely sure why — he couldn’t get the blonde out of his head. But now that the other man wasn’t picking up his phone, Jimin was quickly starting to believe he may have misinterpreted the other’s advances. 

God. This had been such a dumb idea. Of course Yoongi wasn’t going to answer — why would he? He should just hang up and never think about Min Yoongi ever again in his entire —

The sudden sound of fumbling on the other end of the line made Jimin stop dead in his tracks, his heart nearly skipping a beat.

“Hello?” A deep, gravelly voice answered. It vaguely reminded Jimin of the way someone might sound after just waking up from a nap, but it was nearly pushing 5pm.

“Um!” The florist cleared his throat and shoved his free hand into the pocket of his trousers. “H-hello is this, uh, Min Yoongi?”

He was met with a brief silence, and for a split second he started to worry that he’d possibly dialed the wrong number before the other finally responded.

“Could be.” The voice hummed with the same deep, croaky tone. “Who’s this?”

“Oh, gosh I’m sorry I-I should have said.” Jimin felt himself start to flush as he stumbled over his words. He was very grateful the two of them weren’t face to face as he knew he’d be even more of a mess than he already was. “This is, um, Park Jimin? From the flower shop?”

“Oh shit, the florist?”

Jimin felt himself nodding. He didn’t know why — the other couldn’t see him. Habitual, he assumed, as he confirmed the other’s statement with a nervous waiver to his voice.

The man on the other end instantly snorted, but it had a very obvious hint of amusement to it. Jimin felt almost as if he could hear the playful smile ghosting his lips through the phone.

“Jimin...why didn’t you just text me?”

Jimin’s expression quickly fell. Right. Texting.

“Oh my god. You’re right I should've just — god. I’m just so used to making calls at the shop, I—“

“Stop panicking, I think it’s cute.” Yoongi cut in with another low chuckle before adding, “Old-fashioned, but cute.”

Jimin flushed even deeper still — he couldn’t help it. He was starting to wish he could go back in time and try the whole exchange over again; possibly even save himself any more potential embarrassment with the anonymity of a text message.

God. Why didn’t he think of that?

The pair stayed silent briefly, the atmosphere heavy and a little awkward, before Yoongi finally broke the dead air with a sniffle.

“So, what’s up? You called?” He sniffled again and quickly added, “Not that I’m not happy to hear from you, of course. I’m glad you reached out.”

Jimin swallowed thickly as he began to resume his anxious pacing. The entire phone call had flowed so much more smoothly when he’d rehearsed it in his head — but now that he was actually executing it, it felt choppy as his confidence steadily dropped. In fact, he debated just hanging up and forgetting the whole thing, but remarkably convinced himself to press on.

“Well, I…” he started, pausing to take a deep breath. “I-it was really nice talking to you the other day, and…I sort of wanted to see if we could, um...get to know each other a little better. So I guess I was, uh, wondering if you might want to grab dinner? Maybe...tonight? With...me…?”

His question hung hauntingly in the air as he waited for Yoongi to say something — anything. Even rejection was better than silence.

“...Dinner?”

Jimin found himself nodding again, his stomach in his throat from the unsure tone in other’s voice.

“If you’re free?” He managed back, his voice catching a bit as he spoke. “I know a, um…really great sushi place.”

“Sorry, but no.” Yoongi’s response was blunt, to the point, and had no trouble instantly making Jimin feel absolutely horrible. Worried he may have overstepped his bounds, the nervous florist wasted no time falling into a self-deprecating, rapid apology.

“O-oh. God. I’m so sorry. Did I...misunderstand? God this was so stupid — look I’m really sorry, Yoongi, I—”

“Jimin. Calm down. I’d love to, just...not tonight.” He broke away from the phone to try and muffle a poorly-timed cough, but Jimin could still hear just how much the sound rattled in his chest. “I caught some kind of bug. I wouldn’t want to pass it along to you.”

There were a million different things Jimin wished he would have said back: “Don’t worry about it” “Your health comes first” “Let’s try again when you’re feeling better”.

Instead however, all that managed to come out of his mouth was a quiet, choked, “Oh.”

“Yeah.” Yoongi sighed back and it was only then that Jimin started to clue into the way his words sounded much more rounded and nasally. “I have pretty piss-poor timing. But if you would’ve just called me a few days earlier,” His tone was teasing, and if it weren’t for the circumstances, Jimin felt he may’ve smiled.

“I guess I have bad timing then, too.” The florist offered with a meek chuckle, rubbing the side of his neck with his free hand. “I guess we’ll just...take a rain check?”

“Guess so.” Echoed the other before sniffling sharply and breathing out a hurried, “S-sorry, ‘scuse me—” 

Jimin could hear him fumble the phone away from himself before stifling harshly, just barely being able to contain the sudden sneeze that scraped its way out of his throat. Jimin’s own nose twitched in response, his damned phantom itch problem rearing its ugly head, before he quickly scrubbed the feeling away as Yoongi followed up his sneeze with a low, unhappy groan. 

Jimin pursed his lips. The poor guy really did sound awful.

“God, sorry.” Yoongi apologized again after returning the phone to his ear with another sniffle, this one audibly more wet. “Look, I’d love to keep talking, but.” He let out a tired sounding laugh that made Jimin’s stomach fill to the brim with butterflies. “I really feel like shit. Like… ‘wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy’ type of shit. But...I’ll text you, yeah? When I’m feeling better.”

“O-okay, yeah.” Jimin tried to hide the disappointment in his voice as he spoke. “That sounds good. You, uh…just make sure to get lots of rest.”

“Yeah.” Yoongi huffed out an amused breath. “Will do. See ya later, Park Jimin.”

Jimin ended the call and let out a long, defeated sounding sigh. Min Yoongi was sick. Because of course he would be. Jimin wished he could kick himself. If only he had worked up the courage to call him a few days earlier, then maybe, just maybe, he’d be getting ready to go on a nice sushi date with an extremely cute guy. Instead, any thoughts of a potential ‘something more’ had been squashed indefinitely. 

Granted, the other had said he’d reach back out later, but after the way Jimin had stuttered through the phone call he didn’t have very high hopes of ever hearing from the handsome blonde again.

He figured he’d simply try not to let himself think about it, which ended up proving very difficult when he got a curious phone call from his friend Namjoon a mere few minutes later.

“...Sick, huh?” Namjoon gave a sympathetic sigh that somehow just managed to make Jimin feel worse. “Sorry, Jimin. That really is too bad. Doesn’t mean you’ll never hear from him again, though.”

“Yeah...I guess we’ll see.” Jimin grumbled as he flipped his shop’s small ‘open’ sign to ‘closed’. “But I’m not holding my breath.”

“Hey, don’t be like that. Give the guy some credit.” Namjoon encouraged with a small scoff. Jimin knew he was being a bit melodramatic, but he didn’t care enough to stop. “What’s this guy’s name, anyway? You never told me.”

“It’s, uh… Min Yoongi.” Jimin murmured, keeping his voice small as if to pretend he didn’t already have the name memorized.

“Wait — Min Yoongi?”

“...Yeah?”

The sound of Namjoon’s sudden laughter bubbled through the phone line and made the florist cock an eyebrow curiously. 

“Jimin — I know the guy.”

Jimin nearly dropped his phone.

“You...know him? Really?”

“Yeah.” Namjoon laughed again, clearly amused. “He used to bartend with me a few years ago. We haven’t spoken in awhile, though. God...what a small world.”

Jimin echoed his laughter, but it sounded much more forced and hollow.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, “no kidding.”

There was a brief pause before Jimin heard Namjoon take a deep breath.

“...You said he’s sick?”

“Hmm? Oh. Yeah.” Jimin hummed in confirmation. “He sounded pretty bad.”

“Well…” Namjoon’s tone had taken on a sing-song quality, reminding Jimin of kids passing secrets in a playground. “Do you want his address?”

“Namjoon, what—”

“To swing by, I mean.” Namjoon was quick to cut in and clarify his intentions. “Maybe drop him off some dinner? To my knowledge he’s never moved.”

“Wouldn’t that be...kinda weird?”

“I mean…” Namjoon seemed to mull it over a moment. “You said he gave you his number, right?”

Jimin hummed a yes.

“Then, no. Not weird. Just tell him I told you where to go.” Jimin could hear Namjoon smiling through the phone. “Jimin. Do you want his address or not?”

“W-well…” Jimin thought it over. “Do you know if he likes sushi?”

*

Jimin stared at the outside of Yoongi’s door as he chewed anxiously on his bottom lip. He barely knew Yoongi, had only ever spoken to him really just the once, and yet there he stood: take-out sushi in one hand and over-the-counter cold meds in the other. A voice in the very back of his mind kept screaming at him to just leave while he still had the chance, before Yoongi realized he had even showed up, but he did his best to try and ignore it. He had already come all this way, bought all these things, now the very least he could do would be to deliver them. With a nervous sigh, Jimin mustered up every ounce of courage he had left and quickly rapped his knuckles against the hardwood of Yoongi’s door.

Sure enough, a raspy cough could be heard approaching from inside of the small flat, and not a minute later, the door started to unlatch and pull open.

Jimin watched with a tight-lipped smile as Min Yoongi’s head slowly peeked into view, his eyes squinting against the bright rays of sunlight that streamed in through the open door. His bleached blonde hair was disheveled with sleep, sticking out in ways that made him look much younger than he actually was. He had a tissue crumpled in one hand that he kept tightly pressed against the base of his red, raw nose, and he wore a pair of black glasses that, for one reason or another, Jimin just simply had never pictured. 

He had only seen the man one other time previously, but his rumpled, sickly appearance still somehow managed to catch Jimin a bit off guard. Out of everything though, the part that easily surprised Jimin the most were the beautiful floral tattoos that ran up and down Yoongi’s small arms. They seemed to stop just before his wrists and extend upwards towards his shoulders, and if the splash of colour at the base of his v-neck was anything to go by, they clearly bled their way onto his chest as well.

“...Jimin?” Yoongi’s voice dripped heavily with congestion and made him sound as if his nose was stuffed full of cotton. He took a deliberate step into the space created by his open door, seemingly trying to stop the other’s view inside, and ran a hand through his messy hair. “How the fuck did you…?”

“Uh! Well, do you know Kim Namjoon…?” Jimin watched Yoongi’s glassy eyes soften as he seemed to recognize the name. “He’s, uh, a friend of mine from high school. He passed along your address when I told him you weren’t feeling well. You sounded pretty awful on the phone so I just thought I’d…” Jimin trailed off sheepishly and raised both of the bags in his hands up a little higher as if that was somehow a good enough explanation.

“So you decided to make a house call, huh?” Yoongi scoffed, “...You really are old-fashioned.” He turned his upper body in towards his apartment and coughed roughly against his fist before facing Jimin again. “I don’t even know what to say. This is—” He gestured to the two bags as he searched for the right words, “—very sweet. Thank you.”

Jimin felt his cheeks grow warm as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. At this point, the logical thing to do would be to hand the poor man over the food and medicine and be on his way. But for one reason or another, Jimin couldn’t bring himself to do it. He didn’t want to go, didn’t want to miss an opportunity to chat with the man he’d somehow become so heavily infatuated with. That’s why instead, without too much of a second thought, Jimin simply found himself blurting out: “I brought enough food for two. Do you think I could come in?”

Yoongi seemed to hesitate a moment at the other’s forward request before he stole a glance over his shoulder at the room behind him.

“I mean...yeah, alright.” He shrugged and ran a knuckle against the underside of his nose, sidestepping out of the doorway so Jimin could enter. “I wasn’t expecting any visitors, so uh, sorry about the mess.”

Jimin shook his head in understanding as he waddled his way into Yoongi’s flat, kicking off his shoes in the doorway. He passed the plastic medicine bag over to the other as Yoongi mumbled something about looking for a facemask before Jimin allowed himself a quick moment to look around. 

The walls of the flat were filled with stunning floral artwork, and many half-finished easels were scattered in small stacks along the floor. Yoongi had a sketchbook laid out on his coffee table next to a pile of used tissues and a cup of what Jimin assumed could only be tea. The air smelt vaguely of eucalyptus and menthol and there was a gentle beat of music playing from his television.

“Are you...an artist?” Jimin couldn’t help but ask as he shuffled his way towards the coffee table to set down the food. He stole a glance at Yoongi’s open sketchbook and cracked a smile at the beautiful sunflower drawings the other had been working on.

“In a sense.” Yoongi affirmed, joining Jimin by the coffee table with a facemask now resting beneath his chin as he pulled a tissue from a nearby box. “I’m a tattoo artist.” 

The surprised expression on Jimin’s face was enough to coax a small chuckle out of Yoongi as the blonde wrapped the new tissue around his nose and twisted his upper body away to blow.

“I didn’t even know you had tattoos.” Jimin admitted as he started laying out the containers of sushi onto the table. “You were in a jacket the last time I saw you.”

Yoongi hummed in remembrance as he switched the pressure of his fingers from nostril to nostril to try and clear himself out. 

“Not a fan?” He asked teasingly after finishing, coughing lightly against his fist as he threw the tissue into a nearby bin.

“Oh Yoongi, are you kidding?” Jimin gasped, shifting his attention from their sushi dinner to the artwork that stained Yoongi’s skin. “They’re beautiful.”

Jimin could tell Yoongi seemed a bit taken aback by his sincerity as a small pink blush started to dance its way across the man’s face. He offered him a warm smile before plopping himself down onto the sofa with a small grunt. 

“All the rolls are, uh, basically the same.” Jimin explained as Yoongi took a seat adjacent to him. “I just doubled my normal order, so I hope you like it.”

Yoongi nodded, dabbing his wrist against his nose as he made a grab for one of the containers and a pair of wooden chopsticks. If he seemed at all put off by Jimin’s sudden appearance on his doorstep he didn’t show it. Instead, the man continued to carry himself with an air of nonchalance that left Jimin wondering what he might have been thinking about the whole situation. 

Suddenly, an urgent sounding sniffle from Yoongi pulled Jimin from his train of thought as the older man hurriedly set his container of food back onto the coffee table. He gasped in a way that bordered on sounding erotic and swiftly tried to yank his mask over the lower half of his face. Turning his upper body as far from Jimin as he possibly could, Yoongi finally fell into himself with three sneezes that he tried to crush into the crook of his elbow.

“hH’INGx’shh! ‘NNGT’tshh! hH’ISSHhh’hiuu!” He rose back up with a harsh sniffle and pulled his glasses from his face. “Jesus, fuck. I’m sorry.” He grumbled as he smooshed the heel of his palm against the corner of one eye.

Jimin shook his head, bringing a sweater-donned hand up to cover his nose and mouth as Yoongi stole some tissues from a nearby box.

“Don’t be sorry.” The florist managed, his own nose itching empathetically from Yoongi’s sudden outburst. He did his best to fight the feeling — his sympathy sneezing always made him feel a bit silly — but his fight proved to be in vain as he sucked in a shuddering breath through his teeth and rocked forward against his sleeve with a single breathy sneeze.

Yoongi raised an eyebrow at him from behind a tissue, chuckling slightly mid blow.

“I told you we should’ve done this a different day.” He joked as Jimin scrubbed his nose against his sleeve. “Now look at you.”

“No, no, I’m really fine, trust me.” Jimin assured as Yoongi finished blowing his nose. 

“Oh, that’s right. You ‘just sort of sneeze a lot’. How could I forget?”

Jimin buried his face into the sleeves of his sweater and groaned, cringing at the memory as Yoongi placed his sushi container back into his lap with a laugh.

“Hey, don’t be embarrassed.” He snapped his wooden chopsticks in two before continuing. “I was a mess the last time you saw me. Honestly I’m shocked you even called me.”

Jimin let out an airy chuckle at the memory of Yoongi’s first appearance in his shop a week prior. The poor man couldn’t have been in the shop for more than five minutes before the sickly sweet aroma of the flora overwhelmed him. With the memory now fresh in his mind, Jimin once again turned his attention to the beautiful sunflower drawings in Yoongi’s sketchbook.

“Honestly I’m a bit surprised to see all the floral artwork you have. I mean...even your tattoos.” He gestured towards one of Yoongi’s arms with another small giggle. “With an allergy like yours I guess I just assumed you wouldn’t be a fan.”

“Hey, I told you before — I love flowers.” Yoongi popped a piece of sushi into his mouth before continuing. “They just don’t love me back.”

“Well I mean, if it’s any consolation, I’m a florist and so far I don’t dislike you.”

“Hey,” Yoongi snorted. “That works for me.”

[jesuiscalmedammit]

Informant – (2) This is a simulation || [Frank Woods x reader]

note: part one.

Frank only noticed he had company when you handed him a bottle of beer. At first he hesitated but then he nodded and took it from you. “What are you doing up here?” he asked as he turned back to look at the buildings around you.

Letting out a troubled sigh, you rested your elbows on the railing next to him. “I saw that look you gave me during the briefing and since we’re going to work together, I thought we should talk about whatever is bothering you.”

“Nothing is bothering me, don’t worry. I’m just tired, that’s all.” You gave him a skeptical look but he only shrugged in response. “It’s not my problem if you don’t believe me. So why aren’t you with Alex? I thought now that you’re working with us for a while the two of you will be inseparable,” he added sourly.

You didn’t answer right away and your silence caught his attention. Flashing a sad smile at him, you finally spoke up. “I got bored pretty soon. Things have changed.”

“What happened?”

Frank tried to stick to a casual, almost nonchalant tone as he spoke, even though he was eager to hear your explanation. Deep down a part of him hoped you would say your decision had something to do with him, but he also knew one meeting probably wasn’t enough to end an affair that had been going on for who knew how long.

After what felt like an eternity, you finally took a deep breath and put your bottle on the railing, and turned to look at him. “Well, sex is great but I wish that was the only thing between us. This will sound very, very bad and cruel, but I don’t want to deal with his nightmares or other emotional issues. He has a wife, I’m sure she would be more than happy to be there and support him,” you explained with a guilty look on your face. “I’m a terrible person, I know it.”

“No, I don’t think you are.” Upon seeing the surprised look on your face, he took a swig of his beer and said, “You said you usually meet at that club. Let’s be honest, in this case, I highly doubt you chose that location because you were looking for some serious, romantic relationship. Anyway, which one is the real problem? That he has issues or that he’s married?”

“Both. But if I had to choose, I’d probably say it’s the fact he’s married,” you replied with a shrug. “Enough about me. I’m still not buying your excuse for that look you gave me earlier. Why don’t you like me?”

He wished he could tell you the truth. The truth that he had been dangerously frustrated ever since he saw you again. All he could think about was that night you almost spent together. He could recall every touch and every kiss, and now every inch of his body was yearning for you. But his little piece of shit of a brain always reminded Frank that while he was thinking and fantasizing about you, Alex could actually be with you.

Maybe there was a part of him that hated both of you for this. After all those years he had spent focusing on his job instead of trying to have a life of his own, Frank now regretted ignoring the notion to have a proper romantic relationship. “Honestly? I think I might be a little… jealous,” he admitted eventually. Since you looked quite confused, he cleared his throat and said, “I got a taste of what you two have that night and I want–”

You didn’t let him finish the sentence and successfully silenced him with a kiss as you steadied yourself by putting your hands on his chest. “And here I was, assuming you were only going with the flow in the club so you wouldn’t be suspicious,” you told him with a smile. “Aren’t you hungry? I’m starving and we could talk over dinner. So?”

“What? You wanna go on a date?” Frank laughed when you playfully punched his upper arm. “Okay, okay, I don’t care what it is, let’s eat.”

As you walked to the door that led to the roof, Frank put his hand on the small of your back because he wanted to make sure you stayed by his side and this small gesture also kept reminding him this wasn’t some weird fever dream. Even if you weren’t looking for a relationship, at least he could test the waters before deciding whether or not to pursue a relationship with someone else. He wasn’t getting any younger and who knew how long he had left with his lifestyle.

“What are you thinking about? You seem pretty lost in your thoughts,” you pointed out with a smile. “Oh, are you worried that this is really a date?”

“I wouldn’t say that. I guess I’m just… out of practice, you know.”

With a soft giggle, you linked your arm with his then said, “Alright, in this case, this is now officially a date simulation!” Frank flashed an almost grateful smile at you but didn’t tell you how he already considered this a test. You soon reached the restaurant not far from the hotel you stayed in, but before he could reach for the door handle, you jumped in front of him. “Just one thing before we go inside. No matter how this date will end, I still want to spend the rest of the night with you. Preferably in bed. Hopefully naked,” you whispered with a wicked smile.

Letting out a dramatic sigh, Frank stepped closer to you and shook his head. “Sleeping with a guy on the first date? Where are your standards?” he asked with fake disapproval in his voice.  

“Okay, fine, I’ll admit that I can’t remember the last time I was on a proper date,” you began as you reached out to intertwine your fingers with his. “Maybe it was back in high school. Or I don’t know, maybe college? Either way, I’m sure in our line of work having a normal relationship would be a luxury. And since I have to focus on a lot of important things, I think I have successfully deleted the dating guide book from my memory. So no, I don’t really know what I’m doing either.”

“You know what? Let’s make this less awkward by going back to the hotel and sticking to room service.” When you nodded with an unexpectedly wide grin on your lips, he leaned down to give you a quick kiss then said, “Don’t be mad at me for asking, but how do you feel about handcuffs?”

note: feedback is always appreciated. also if you want to be tagged, leave a note. || sorry for the possible typos, errors etc.

[chrisevansgoodgirl]

lips burrow so deep, give me good sleep

summary: requested: (1) Andy Barber insisting reader sits on his face and he makes her come so many times she can barely hold herself up... so he does it for her supporting her back and keeps going. (2)  imagine Andy Barber’s reaction to reader wearing one of his old college hoodies with lingerie underneath. He definitely strikes me as the possessive type so seeing you in something so /him/ would definitely set something off in him

warnings: some smut. pretty vanilla shit until the end tbh.

word count: around 3,750

pairing: andy barber  x reader

a/n: i can’t believe the show is almost overrrr...i’ll never be over this man tho!

The last time Andy came home early, it was purely under Lynn’s orders. He had a terrible fever that he’d managed to hide from you, his insistence that he not let anyone else manage any part of his case had made him think going to work while sick was a good idea.

So, hearing the door at two in the afternoon was nothing short of worrisome. You had been curled up on the couch with your tablet, resigned to a boring and quiet day until your husband got home. Normally, that was four hours out from two in the afternoon.

“Baby?” you called out. “Is that you or an intruder with a key?”

He snorted. “It’s me.”

You turned curiously, watching him as he went to place his keys and phone on the counter. “What are you doing home early?”

“What are you doing home early?”

“Finished with my most current client, they have simple tastes.” As an event planner, the simple clients were your least favorite.

He sat down next to you on the couch. “Well, I’m sorry to hear that.”

You took his hand, linking your fingers through his. You kissed the back of his hand before asking, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a bit of a headache.”

“Take your jacket off.”

He lifted his eyebrows. “My jacket?”

You gave him a flat look. “Yes, jacket and tie, off.”

He tossed them carelessly onto the arm of the couch and looked at you.

You pat the blanket that was draped over you. “Lay with me.”

He smiled softly. “It’s surprising when you have pure intentions, Mrs. Barber.”

You snorted as he settled his head on your thighs. He glanced up at you, hands grasping your hips to pull your further down the couch. You smiled. “What are you doing?”

He pulled and pulled until your stomach was level with his head and then laid his cheek against you. This was simultaneously cute and awkward since he didn’t want to lay on your legs, so he draped them over his shoulders.

You scoffed. “Because I’m sure that’s comfortable for you.”

“It is,” he promised.

You ran your fingers through his hair lightly and he hummed.

“Keep doing that, please.”

“Mhm.” You loved when he let you baby him just a little. Usually, he wouldn’t dream of it. You needed to be doted on and spoiled, but there were times when he was tired or felt under the weather, and so he would let you do something for him.

You weren’t sure when you fell asleep, but it was with your fingers buried in his hair. You were both startled awake by the doorbell and the first thing you’d noticed was that the sun had gone down.

You had to complexly slip out from under him so he wouldn’t try running to the door before you.

“Hey,” he protested, voice thick and still sleepy.

You bent down before you dashed away just to kiss his cheek. “Stay.”

The clock along the way told you it was just 6, Massachusetts always got dark earlier in the year than any other place you had lived.

Your neighbor was returning some mail that had been placed in her mailbox and you did the same. It was well established and discussed amongst everyone that whoever was delivering mail was a menace that needed to go. There was a neighborhood petition going around that amused Andy to no end when you told him about it.

He’d asked when you were going to start being a neighborhood housewife. He made it no secret that if you didn’t want to work, you didn’t have to. It wasn’t that you hated your job, you actually loved it, but it was stressful sometimes because you were a perfectionist and, to some extent, a bit of an empath. That was why you got along with him so well. But that was also why you hated letting anyone down ever.

As you walked back to the kitchen counter, you thumbed through the letters in your hand.

“Am I going to have to suggest someone to Clara when she kills the mailman?”

“Stop enjoying this so much.”

“It’s hilarious,” he insisted. “I thought this stuff only really happened on sitcoms. Not that I had the best parental models to go off.”

You glanced over the mail, finding him still laid out on the couch, and tossed it onto the counter. None of it looked immediately pressing. You glanced at the clock. “Do you want me to make dinner?”

“I just ordered something. Lay with me until it gets here.”

You would blame the setting sun for him not noticing what you were wearing until you were back in the living room. He saw your legs first, then his eyes trailed up until they settled on the print of the huge sweatshirt you’d borrowed from his side of the closet.

Andy didn’t have school pride in the traditional sense. He wasn’t the person to go to all the football games or other events, but he had managed to build quite the collection of sweatshirts and T-shirts. He also liked to play with the idea that one day in the future, some of your children would spare his heart and stay home for college, possibly even attend the same place he had.

You had rolled your eyes at him and he’d accused your college of being a “party school”. You wouldn’t humor him with a defense…maybe, mostly, because he was right.

He placed his hand on your hip bone before you could slip back on the couch. “You take that from my closet?”

“No, I actually realized that I want to get my law degree, so I bought my own. I hope you understand, until I’m a lawyer, we can’t have kids—”

“Very funny,” he interjected as he pulled you on top of him. He settled you on his stomach, hands on your inner thighs where he rubbed circles with his thumbs.

You smirked. “But would you be mad at me?”

“No, of course not…but I would insist that you let me help you study every night so we could finish it as soon as possible—”

“Mm. Professor role play? I never would have guessed.”

“So, my wife is a fucking comedian tonight?”

You shrugged. “Maybe.”

“I guess if you were in a tiny plaid skirt, I’d be whatever you wanted me to be.”

“Are you feeling better?” You brushed your fingers along his forehead.

“A little.”

“How much is a little?” you pressed. “Should I refrain from doing this?” You gave his hair just a minor tug. Really, just a little, gentle thing that he decided to blow up.

He snatched your hand out of his hair and bit your palm.

“Ow!” you scoffed. “Andy. I’m just trying to learn how my husband is feeling.”

He took your waist and pressed you back, until he could roll his hips and you would feel him against you. “You tell me. How do I feel?”

“Pulling hair makes you hard?” you teased.

He arched an eyebrow. “Pulling your hair, yes. You try that again and you won’t be able to walk right for a week.”

“Then what is it?”

He narrowed his eyes. “You know.”

“I know everything about you, you’re my husband. That doesn’t mean I don’t want to hear you say it.”

One hand slid from your hip up to your side until he reached your shoulder. He looked sweet and soft for a moment, but just as soon as he got his hand in your hair, that changed. He pulled your head back and bared your neck to him. “Seeing you in my clothes really does something to me.”

You were flushing just a bit, aware of how deeply he was staring at you. You didn’t wear Andy’s clothes often. Either it was so cold that you were bundled up in layers and layers or it was so hot that you were barely wearing anything. You also never anticipated that it would matter so much.

“Get up here.”

You blinked. “What?”

“I want you to sit on my face.”

“You want…where?” He wanted you to sit on his face? You weren’t completely surprised. Andy loved eating you out. He had done so within the first three weeks of your relationship, and hadn’t stopped since you let him start, but you were always lying down. Safely. On your back.

“Baby, sit on my face.”

“I don’t…I’ve never…”

“Yeah, I figured.” The first time he went down on you, he forced you to tell him all about your (very short) history of boyfriends and oral sex. Before him, there had been one. And a half. Of course, you’d never tried anything other than the most basic position.

“We should go upstairs and—”

“Nope. Right here.”

“Andy—”

He grabbed your hips and began moving you up.

“Wait—”

“You trust me?”

“Of course.”

“Well, I’ve got you.”

You weren’t completely sure what you were nervous about, you guys had just never done this. It was an utterly vulnerable position, so it rarely crossed your mind, but when Andy decided he wanted something...

Before you could protest further, he pulled your hips level with his face. You leaned over and caught the arm of the couch with both hands, keeping yourself hovering over him.

“Come on, baby, I know you’ll like it.”

There was never anything he’d done to you that you didn’t like. The last ounce of doubt you had disappeared as soon as he turned his head and kissed your thigh. You suddenly had the strongest desire to feel his beard against your cunt.

You pushed yourself up carefully, arms now at your sides.

His hands slid up your legs until he reached your ass. He yanked you down and wasted no time running his tongue down the length of your slit.

As you settled just a little, his beard began pricking at your skin. It always started out just barely tolerable, but after he’d make you orgasm, it was just another blissful sensation.

You were distantly aware of the uncomfortable position you were in. Your leg nearest the couch was bent at a weird angle, half buried in the couch, half pressed against Andy. He was clearly undeterred by that.

Like most things Andy enjoyed, he was in control. He had you as spread as he wanted you, deciding how much pressure he was going to give you. His hands on your ass dictated whether you could get away from him it became too much, and it would eventually.

He let the tip of his tongue explore you. He didn’t want to overwhelm you, but he also wanted to locate your favorite spots from this new angle. He knew you liked when he slowly slid his tongue up from your entrance to your clit, where he so gently lapped.

As soon as he started sucking, your hands disappeared in his hair. You needed something to hold onto and his hair kept you as close as possible to him. You glanced down for only a moment, unable to hold his intense stare. The way he looked at you, you would swear he had every intention of devouring you.

You let your head fall back, pulling him closer by his hair. He let go of your ass for a moment, encouraging you to sit down as much as you could. When he was satisfied, he locked his hands over your thighs so he could stop you from moving back.

He inhaled deeply, humming appreciatively as he licked you harder.

“Fuck, Andy.”

He hummed again, this time encouragement to keep talking. You moaned about how much you loved him, how good this felt. You didn’t even care that your absolute surrender was giving him future pull if he ever needed to talk you into something.

He took you to the highest peak you had ever reached and kept you there until he was satisfied. You didn’t mind as much as you usually did. He could tease you like it was his career and sometimes, it frustrated you beyond comprehension. This was different, different feelings and different sweet spots. Even the lightest touches were enough to make you whine and whimper for him.

He lifted you up just barley and said, “ride my face, baby.”

Any semblance of control you had was gone with those words. Your hips desperately moved over his lips, his tongue, his jaw, his beard in search of friction for your clit. You no longer worried about putting too much weight on him, you just needed to come.

You were surprised when he let you. You knew your husband and he loved dragging things out. You wouldn’t question him, however, because you didn’t have the mind to. All you knew how to do at that moment was grind your cunt against his mouth.

His beard was sticking your skin almost painfully, but you couldn’t bear the thought of pulling away. You could remember when you first met him, when he actually used to shave often. The only reason he started keeping it around was because you loved it. One of the immediate thoughts you’d had when you first saw it was how it would feel between your thighs, but he didn’t indulge you. He had made you beg for it and it was well worth it.

You were sensitive enough that with certain touches, your hips would buck but he didn’t seem to mind. He met those thrusts by angling his jaw up and rolling his tongue into you. The only sounds in the room were your moans and cries and his tongue trailing through your soaking pussy.

He moved like he was starving, like he was worried that you were going to pull away from him at any second. He was savoring every sound, every pull of his hair, every time you rose up and squeezed your thighs just a little.

You were shaking as he coaxed you to your second finish. That familiar winding sensation was building and you fucked yourself wildly against his open mouth, the only assistance he offered you was with his tongue.

You fell forward, narrowly catching yourself on the arm of the couch once more. Andy didn’t take that as his cue to be sweet or gentle. Instead, he held you tighter, his fingers digging into your ass and outer thigh. He focused his tongue solely on your clit and in seconds, you were coming hard.

But after, that was when he began to tease. He wanted you fucking his face, he wanted you to use him for your pleasure. From this position, you couldn’t do that, you couldn’t take anything, you could only receive. It was a wordless threat delivered by feather-light licks that left you wanting more. If you wanted anything tonight, you would have to get it yourself.

It took several tries to lift one arm and not collapse on top of him. Your body ached at the idea of being laid out underneath him, you couldn’t hold yourself up on your own, but you weren’t done with this yet. Your only option was to want more, that was the only pull he was going to give you. You were on top and in control to an extent, but the second you tried to pull away, he was going to drag you back down. You had nowhere to escape either, no way to shield yourself from him when he wanted to give you more.

When you were on your back, though it didn’t feel like it, you were in much more control. You could push him away, you had an entire mattress to make him chase you. This was all right here, on top of him, held exactly where he wanted you.

You reached back and pried his hand off your hip, lifting it to your waist. He didn’t wait for you to repeat the same with your opposite hand, he sat you up and held you there. You set your own hands on his stomach and he let you lean back just a little.

You watched him slowly run his tongue up and down your cunt, his lips leaving small kisses on your flesh, then sucking noisily at your clit. You watched every little thing he did until you couldn’t stop your hips from rocking against him once more.

Your third orgasm came and went, screaming his name, your head tossed back, your body moving on its own. He let you come down by neglecting your clit in favor of dipping his tongue inside you just enough that you could feel him but were still craving more.

He turned his head to kiss your thigh, turned to the other one to do the same. “Look at me, I want to see your face when you come.” And he continued those soft presses of his lips on both sides until you had situated yourself so he could see your face, your hands over his for more support.

You stared into his eyes the whole time. As he mercilessly sucked your clit, as he led you toward a finish that he wasn’t going to give you just yet, when he would let you come back down by just barely grazing you with his teeth, no tongue, no lips, just these delicate almost-bites on your soaking and sensitive flesh.

He loved seeing your expressions. The way your mouth would fall open when he found one of those really nice spots, the way you bit your lip when you thought you were being too loud, the pout that would settle whenever he didn’t give you the exact thing you wanted, the wrinkle in your forehead when you were frustrated and just wanted to come. But what he really wanted to see was your eyes filled with tears, your mouth open, blurting out unintelligible sounds, and he didn’t stop until that was the case.

When you finished, you were trembling, sobbing his name and many other pleas, once more clutching his hair to pull him as close to you as he could get. He lapped at your clit even after your hips would jerk back, until your eyes were rolling to the back of your head. He hungrily licked into you, desperate to have every last drop of you on his tongue.

You were mindless as he pulled you back over his chest, letting you comfortably settle against him as you came down. But that was the last thing you wanted when you saw how wet his face was, you were dripping down his chin and neck, all the way to the collar of his shirt.

Your hands greedily tore at his belt and pants and he didn’t once help you. Instead, he kept one hand over your ass, holding your aching cunt against his thigh just in case he thought you might need to come again.

You finally got your hand wrapped around his cock, pulling him out of his pants and boxers. You stroked him as you turned your head up and licked over his neck and jaw. You knew he was close when his hips started to move, impatient for your hand to make it all the way down to the base of his cock.

You draped one leg over him, pulling yourself over your arm. You were chest to chest, your hand still working him, your hips hovering just above your forearm, and now you could see his face. When he would say your name, it was soft, it was a sigh or a whisper, a plea to make him come.

“Are you close, baby?” you cooed.

He hummed, eyes shutting as he let out a shuddered breath.

You began nipping at his lips, his jaw, his cheeks. Your mouth brushed against his face when you spoke, “I loved fucking your face.”

“I could tell,” he assured, voice still holding power and control even though he was seconds away from spilling into your hand.

“Tomorrow morning...”

“Mhm,” he encouraged.

“I want you to take your tie and tie my hands behind my back.”

He nodded. “Uh-huh.”

“And then I’m going to get on my knees.”

“Okay,” he breathed, hands gripping whatever part of you was closest. Your ass and your free arm, you couldn’t wait to see the bruises in the morning.

“And I want you to grab my hair,” you flicked your tongue against his lips, he had them shut to silence any of those noises he was desperate to make. “And I’ll open my mouth wide, yeah?”

He nodded, brow furrowing. He was trying so hard to focus on what you were saying. “Yes.”

“And then I want you to bury your cock down my throat—”

“Fuck.” The hand touching your ass lifted and he pulled the bottom of his sweatshirt out of the way. You yelped, mostly in shock, when he spanked you.

You set your forehead against his temple, whispering, “And I want you to fuck my face before you leave for work.”

His hips stuttered. “Fuck, baby. Don’t stop—fuck!” Just as soon as his mouth fell open, you were kissing him. It was a filthy kiss even in the moment, even with your hand around his cock, even with his beard still wet from your pussy. It was tongue and teeth, moaning into one another’s mouth, sharing oxygen, hands grabbing each other violently.

You felt his cum on your ass first, cooling that spot that was still stinging from the contact of his palm. Then it was all over your hand as you continued pumping him until he was soft.

He finally opened his eyes, hazy and so beautifully, deeply blue. His eyebrow arched when you brought your hand up to your mouth and licked him off your fingers.

Before he could say anything, the doorbell rang. “Shit. I forgot I ordered food.” He slid out from under you, eyeing you as you still had your fingers in your mouth.

The sweatshirt had fallen back down, but he leaned over and pushed it out of his way. You shivered as you felt his tongue slowly licking his cum off your ass. He moved back to you, hand grasping your face, fingers pressing on your cheeks until you opened your mouth for him. He leaned in close and spit his cum on your tongue, and then went for the door without another word.

[maggyoutthere]

I can't believe I actually fINISHED THIS HOLY SHIT-

The chapters are more than 4000 words long combined. I literally never wrote something this big damn. As much as this is supposed to be satire of bad creepypastas, this little shit found its way into my heart. I'll treasure it as probably the best thing I've written, like, ever XD

‼Tws for blood and body horror

First part here

Second part here

Sonic: Battle of Metal and Blood (Part 3 - Finale)

Synopsis: Local teen faces off against whatever is haunting this game and dies(?)

The game took a while to load again.

I was already making backup plans in my head in the case this didn't work. I could always ask people online if anyone had ever known about this game, even get my brother to help me record some clips of it to post on forums and sites. If that didn't work, maybe try and dump the file on my PC? That could be dangerous; if it was making the console crash and restart, I didn't want to know what it could do to my computer.

I was thrown in the same level. Well that was weird. It was the exact same jungle, or at least it looked like it at first. I could tell it was now supposed to be night time since everything had almost a dark blue filter over it, even Tails, who I was playing as this time. The night filter made the level a bit harder since I couldn't see some things properly, but it was still playable. It looked just like any Sonic game from that time, but I knew something was definitely up with it. I just flew over some badniks and made my way across the level (I missed smashing stuff with Amy's hammer so I just tried to escape that level as quickly as possible)

I entered the same clearing, fearing what would happen to Tails this time. Guy was 8, and I doubted SEGA would let their employees just kill off a kid on screen; but again, as far as I knew this game wasn't even supposed to be here. It could've been some unhappy worker or employee gone rogue making a statement. It wasn't helping to be honest. As I followed the exact same route as Amy, I found Metal Sonic again, still stepping on... something. It was too dark to see what it was. It just made squishy and disgusting noises as he pressed his foot on top of it. For an old game, the audio design was pretty unsettling and well done.

I didn't want to get closer to the guy, so I tried flying over him and getting to a checkpoint or something, anything besides confronting that thing. As soon as I made Tails take off from the ground, Metal came flying at him. I almost shrieked as I tried getting the little guy away from that thing, immediately making him land and sprint out of there as fast as possible. In all that panic, I didn't even notice when he tripped over whatever Metal was stepping on and fell on his face. No matter how many buttons I pressed or how hard I pressed them, Tails wouldn't get up. Metal catched up with him and the screen went black as soon as the two collided.

Those same red eyes were back on screen, staring straight back at me. I was with my face glued to the television from all the anxiety that little chase scene gave me, so I jumped back when the thing looked back at me. It felt like it was looking directly at me.

"I want ears like yours"

There it was again

"I want arms like yours"

"I want a mind to think and a heart to feel like yours"

I wanted to punch the screen; I had no idea what was going on. This was starting to get unsettling. Then, I was back in the main menu, the game's menu. It didn't crash this time, at least that. Tails was gone, like Amy. Now, Sonic was there, facing his metal faker. The two looked like they were about to punch each other in an epic pose. Visually it looked great, but then it hit me. "Battle of Metal and Blood"; did it mean faker versus organic? So the two were going to fight again? Maybe we could still get a happy ending of some sorts.

I didn't even flinch. I pressed continue.

The jungle was gone. I was in some facility  now, playing as the blue hedgehog himself this time. The level layout was much different this time; there were more loops, enemies, spikes and so on. Maybe it was only because I was playing as Sonic this time, so I could just speed my way through the level without having to worry about smashing enemies or flying away from them. I got through the level and ended up reaching an empty room; Metal Sonic was there.

I had never been much of a player myself; I'd rather stand by the sidelines and watch as more experienced people got through all the hard levels. Sure I played a lot when I was a kid but I hadn't carried that with me to adolescence. Now I had to do it myself. Hours of playing Sonic CD as a 12 year old, don't fail me now.

The boss fight music kicked in and a large door slammed shut, covering the way out. It was actually kinda hard landing a hit on the guy; I was supposed to dodge his attacks until he got tired and stopped, then parry on certain parts of the walls and spin dash at Metal Sonic as many times as I could while he was down. The thing was: I was awful at parrying. I sucked at anything that involved aiming, but I was somehow able to pull it off well enough to send the guy to his knees after around 20 minutes of dodging and parrying things.

When I hit him for the last time, it looked like I'd split his face in half or something. There were some pieces of Metal Sonic's shiny blue cover scattered around the arena. He just stood still for a while covering his face. Did I do it? Was he deactivating or something? My fingers were getting sore from holding the control and mashing buttons so hard. He wouldn't move on his own, so I just made Sonic approach him to maybe give the final blown.

As I got closer to him, Metal immediately lashed at Sonic again, trying to hold him down. You could see his face a bit better and… it was kinda red. What was that? Was he changing to another phase or something? The screen went black again.

Staring back at me were no longer those two red beacons; there was only one this time, as Metal Sonic did have half of his face completely torn apart. The uncovered half of his face was a bloodied, pulsating mess of flesh and wires. Coils, staples and stitches kept the mass of muscle and whatever else he had inside of him crudely stuck together. Two different colored eyes were shoved in one eye socket as the whole thing now oozed with blood and oil.

"I need quills like yours"

"I need a body like yours"

Was that… what Amy and Tails…

"I need an organic body like yours

to become the Real Sonic"

What… the fuck… I was too shocked to even move as it cut back to the game. Metal Sonic had successfully tackled Sonic to the ground and had started clawing at his face as if trying to rip it out of his "loathsome copy". As I saw a pool of blood appearing under them, I told myself that was enough and got up to pull the cartridge right out of the console. This was just sickening. As I got closer to the console to pull the memory card out, I realised something that made me start worrying about this in a different way. As I got a good look at my Playstation 2, I realized it wasn't plugged in. It wasn't receiving any power at all. It was only connected to the TV.

How had it been working then?...

I slowly backed away from the console, and when I looked back at the screen, that darned thing was looking back at me. It was looking at me as I was trying to stop it, peeking at the side of the screen as I went to turn off my Playstation. That thing knew I was there. No no no, this couldn't be happening. I started shaking as I realized there was something looking back at me though the screen. Its red eyes pierced into my soul, and I didn't know how to stop it.

"I WANT A SOUL… LIKE YOURS"

I shrieked as I finally pulled the cartridge out of the console, throwing it against the wall to my side in pure fear. The screen immediately went to static and the Playstation opened by itself, the Sonic Gems Collection DVD taunting me. That was NOT just a game. Whatever it was, whoever it was, I was terrified to even pick up the memory card. I put the DVD back in its box and turned off the console. I tried taking deep breaths and getting some sleep; it was late, I'd drank a lot of coffee. Maybe all the coffee I was having had created this fever dream. I begged for that to be the situation. Still, I got no sleep that night. My eyes were focused on the TV right in front of my bed, its bright red ON/OFF button giving me panic attacks each time I thought I saw it moving. If I didn't know better, I'd have believed the thing had been watching me all night.

Would it come for me next?

I ended up passing out around 5AM; I was constantly checking my phone to see the time and messaging my friends. I tried explaining the situation to them but they thought I was either messing with them or that I had somehow dreamed the whole situation. I was dead-sure I hadn’t though. I woke up around 2PM and, according to my brother, I looked like shit. Not even he would believe me when I told him what had happened last night; I couldn’t have dreamed the whole thing up even if I wanted to. There had to be something to prove it was all real… the memory card. If I played the game in front of him, he’d have to believe me. After getting breakfast, I pulled my bro back to my room to show him the game. I hesitantly went to pick up the memory card I had thrown against the wall yesterday, but it was no longer there.

“What are you looking for?”

“The memory card; it was right here! Help me look for it!”

“You mean this one?” he pointed at the Playstation.

The fucking cartridge had plugged itself back on the console. What was that thing, and how was it doing that?! The TV screen lit up with static as me and my bro jumped back; we looked at each other in panic and confusion as no one had even touched the TV. We could feel the electricity flowing through the air, giving us chills and making our hair stand up. My brother grabbed my hand as we saw the darned thing appear in front of the static, its shiny metallic cover still split in half. I froze in fear with my little brother to protect right there; I should’ve done more, I should’ve gotten rid of that cursed thing as soon as I unplugged it from the console last night. That thing placed its hands against his side of the screen, its fingers twitching as the blood made the metal hinges rust and creak. The edges of the screen leaked with blood as if he was trying to break this barrier that separated him from us. It looked at us the same way it looked at me; ready to take what he believed was his.

“I… WANT… SOULS LIKE YOURS… AND I WILL HAVE THEM…"