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fluorescentbalaclava · 1 month

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training season's over (double chapter)

Chapter 7: Gleaming & Chapter 8: FISH n' CHIPS

Summary:

Gleaming

To describe something as good, desirable or brilliant. A particular favourite of the Guards Division. If something is ‘gleaming’ you’re probably onto a good thing.

FISH n' CHIPS acronyms, Fighting In Someone's House and Causing Havoc In People's Streets.

TF141/female reader, König/female reader

spy reader, forced bonding, slow burn, slow build, military inaccuracies, suggestive language, language, canon typical violence, second chance, domestic fluff, enemies to friends, becoming buddies, referenced torture, hurt/comfort, hugs, bar fights, alcohol, cuddles

previous: chapter six "contact"

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Chapter 7

How to tell a guy has a crush on you?

You immediately groan to yourself for googling this at your grown age. There was a time when you dated, you even had a boyfriend before all of this. Still, it feels like a lifetime ago, those thoughts were pushed to the back of your head for a while, but after your encounter with König you need answers.

God, at what point I got so disconnected with emotions?

Ah, the good old WikiHow.

1 - He talks to you—a lot.

Uhm...maybe?

2 - He makes eye contact.

Definitely, it’s kinda unsettling sometimes.

3 - He gives you his full attention.

Uh... I mean, yes. But isn't this like the bare minimum?

4 - He laughs at your jokes.

This is ridiculous.

5 - He tries to impress you.

Eh, perhaps.

7 - He lowers his voice when he speaks to you.

The fuck?

You cringe at yourself, before closing your computer and placing it next to you. I mean, maybe it’s not romantically? He clearly cares about you, after all, you don't just go through that for anyone, at least you wouldn't. Or would you? Fuck, this is hard.

König was---is your friend. You began to remember the first time you met him; you fresh joined KorTac, lined up in a row with other new recruits. Upcoming missions required weeks long deployments, and you were informed that some of you were needed for them as there was a shortage of staff in the base, due to the many operations KorTac was contracted to carry out, and that the commanding officers would pick a few rookies to fill the spots.

The first two officers went past you, not even giving you a second glance, just picking the biggest people in the row and calling it a day. The third of them, an American, just looked down at you and with a sarcastic tone said.

"I think you're in the wrong place, doll."

Cunt.

The sight of the fourth one immediately made everyone on the row stand straight. You heard someone beside you whisper "colonel". He was intimidating, tall as fuck, with a black sniper hood over his face and clear paint smeared on the fabric under the holes of his eyes, looking straight out of a Friday the 13th film.

He walked in silence, taking the time to examine each one of the remaining recruits in line. Opposite to the other officers, or at least the ones he talked to, he liked rookies. They were fresh meat, easy to mould to his liking. You saw him looking at you, slightly tilting his head like a curious dog, and you made yourself hold his gaze.

That might have caught his attention, because next thing you knew, he was in front of you. Looking down, probably standing too close on purpose only to make you look up even more, putting your neck in an uncomfortable position. God, it was humiliating.

"Name?" He asked, surprising you as his voice was not as deep as you expected.

"Sage, sir"

"SAS?" He asked, pointing at the Union Jack on your chest.

"No, sir. I was hired before I could try for selection. Corporal, British Army." You explained, and you saw him narrowing his eyes while looking at your face.

"You're coming with me, Maus." He said before simply turning around and walking away. Leaving you a little dumbfounded, as well as your fellow comrades, but soon you followed after.

And that was it, just like that you were under his command until you had the requirements to try and become a sergeant. You never asked him why he exactly did it, you didn’t want him to feel like you were questioning him. He was your superior, after all. Google just told you that "Maus" was a common term of endearment in German.

Those thoughts brought back to that day in Uzlovoye, Russia. Everything felt calm enough— just a rural town, you thought. You really don't remember much; you remember getting into what seemed like an abandoned building and having to collect a computer with vital information inside a bunker. You remember hands behind you, König's voice asking for updates through the comm, the growing anxiety in his voice at the lack of response, the hands squeezing your neck, and then everything went black. The next thing you remember was lifting your head, trying to move to no avail, something hard behind you, the feeling of restraints all around your body, and the disgusting smell of rust and humidity.

A knock on your door distracts you.

“Who is it?”

“Me,” Soap voice says from outside the door.

“Come in.”

He opened the door, finding you resting on your bed already in your pyjamas. One with bunnies this time. Looking around, he quickly realises you have already made yourself quite at home. The room is fully decorated now, except for some boxes piling up in the corner. He could even bet you would have painted the walls as well, if given the chance. You can tell he’s also ready for bed with a shirt from some band you don’t even know and tartan pyjama bottoms.

“Came for a tour?” You said it with a teasing tone from bed, looking up at him.

“Oh, sorry” He answered clearing his throat.

“I'm here to formally invite ye to our monthly film night” Soap said with a playful, elegant tone.

"Monthly? How come I'm first learning about this? I've been here for four months already" Seeing Soap standing on the doorway with a cocky grin.

"Sure, ye can get mad at us for not inviting ye...or ye can be over the moon we are doing it now" He said teasingly.

"Fine...just give me a minute."

And now you were there, in the usual sitting position, with Gaz in the middle, you on one side and Soap on the other. Ghost and Price are sitting on individual sofa at each end of the couch. All of them looked more casual, in their pyjamas as well. Maybe next time you could convince them to do a face mask and turn this into a proper sleepover, like the ones you held with your girlfriends back in high school. You brought a blanket with you to snuggle as well as a cardigan, the base felt like a freezer in the winter.

They did a rock, paper, scissors competition to see who picked the film. Something in you got suspicious when everyone groaned when Price won, even Ghost, but you gave his taste in movies the benefit of the doubt.

Fucking hell...

He picked Gangs of New York, and about half an hour later, the only thing keeping you awake was the feeling of your head bobbling every time you were close to falling asleep.

The only thing keeping Kyle entertained was seeing how hard you were trying to stay awake. From what Johnny told him, you apparently had trouble sleeping, often waking at night to sneak to the kitchen. So, to try and help you, at some point he shifted his shoulder a bit, so when you fell asleep, your head fell against it.

He felt how your breath slowly became even and calm, and you soon were sleeping like a baby. At least she can spare herself from this. As much as he tried to keep focused on the screen, trying to at least follow the storyline, you kept leaning more of your weight against him, seeking his warmth, to which he felt his cheeks warming up.

He took a look around, Ghost was watching the screen, Soap was asleep as well, and Price was watching the picture attentively.

His hand was awkwardly behind you, not sure what to do with it, as your body was pressed on his side. After a few minutes of consideration, he decided that to be comfortable, or so he told himself, to delicately put his arm around your waist, careful to be respectful and gentle. You shifted slightly, and he almost pulled away, but you just snuggled more against him, making him confident enough to cuddle you some more.

He leaned back on the couch, relaxing. It was surprisingly pleasant to rest like that. He could feel the warmth of your body underneath your clothes and how your body gently moved with each breath.

The light of the television illuminated your sleeping face, your muscles relaxed and a peaceful expression, quite the opposite of what he normally sees in you. You looked like a powerhouse when you trained, running through the o course like it was nothing, doing series after series at the gym, and relentlessly hitting whatever thing you had in front of you to train: the bag, mannequins, or Soap.

In your sleeping thoughts, the heat coming from an unknown source was soothing, the aroma of cologne appearing in your dreams and the softness of the cotton of his shirt against your cheek.

He tried to remember the last time he ever was with someone like this. Probably before he joined the 141. Since he met Price, his life has been dedicated to the task force, his country, and saving the world. He almost forgot how nice this was.

The thoughts started to drift even more.

He imagined coming back to someone after work, lying like that while relaxing after a hard day of work, ordering takeout, watching the telly, and then heading to the bedroom. He didn’t realise until now that he craved that, the intimacy of a partner and the closeness of someone outside his friends. So focused on his job he almost forgot the feeling of a warm body pressed against him, the softness of the fabric of your shirt under his hand, your steady breath...he felt slightly flustered at the thoughts crossing his head, but he allowed himself to enjoy in silence. Just two co-workers resting on an evening—it wasn't a big deal. You looked adorable, he had to admit. And he enjoyed the moments he spent with you off-duty; going for the groceries, watching reality TV, or going for runs in the morning. All the stuff he dreaded or felt like chores of civilian life was now enjoyable. They almost made him forget he was a soldier, that he was in a base, and that you are there because you are a criminal. Of course, he would never tell you any of that.

"Kyle" You whispered groggily, snapping him out of his thoughts, and he looked down at you. You couldn’t even open your eyes, the sight bringing a soft smile to his face.

"How long until it ends?" You added it, making him chuckle silently.

"It's almost three hours long, and we're only one hour in, luv" He whispered back, amused.

"For fuck's sake" You muttered in an annoyed groggy tone, curling up on yourself even more while pulling the blanket up, wrapping yourself as you were still leaning against him, going back to sleep.

He could get used to this.

Chapter 8

With a unanimous vote, or so they told you, they decided to take you to the Battleship, a small bar close to the base opened by a retired SAS member mostly for other soldiers to hang out in.

You decided on putting on a long-sleeve shirt with some open buttons on the front that let it hang open enough for your tank top to peek out. As well as just some normal jeans, your tactic boots, and a jacket. You also decided to leave your hair down with clips to prevent it from falling all over your face. And just the tiniest bit of makeup—you were actually excited to see yourself a bit more dolled up than usual. Still casual enough, you think.

When Price sees you, a realization quickly strikes him. Yes, you were a merc, a spy, and you murder people—all crimes he was already too familiar with, and by the looks of it, so were you. But you were only a girl. When you arrived with a soft smile to meet them in the car park, it was like you didn't belong there with them. In other circumstances, you probably would have finished college by now; you would be getting ready to go out with your girlfriends for a drink after a normal day of work and chatter about your lives; you'd have a flat (a new one); and probably a partner. But instead, whatever life choices you made brought you here, going out on a Saturday night with four war criminals, older than you, to a shitty bar on the side of the road. He almost feels pity for you.

Pity he's quickly snapped out of when, apparently, once you got in the Jeep and you were getting comfortable, Soap got in behind you, accidentally pulling your hair with his arm against the seat, to which you winced and almost instinctively threw a very hard push against his shoulder, making him loudly groan but back out.

"Get off my hair," you said, glaring at him, picking up your hair and putting it over one of your shoulders, brushing it together again.

"I'm trying, but it's fuckin' everywhere. Can't ye put on a ponytail or something? Jesus Christ, no need to dislocate my shoulder." He said it with a small wince of pain, rubbing his shoulder.

"Muppets, behave," Price said with a sigh before getting into the driver seat.

It's probably going to be a long night.

He had yet to ask you for what fucked-up reason you ended up enlisting in the first place. But he saw you were uncomfortable enough when he tried to make you call your parents more frequently, and he didn't want to push any further.

He saw on the rearview mirror that Soap and you had made peace, and he was now telling you about how terrible the new recruits were and how they couldn't even handle a few runs around the base, and he was surprised when he heard a “I give them two more weeks” from Ghost, who was sitting next to you.

You seem well enough, considering your situation. He was glad when Kyle came to him, asking for permission to take you along with Soap to the town on a small shopping spree by the sounds of it.

Soap very much enjoyed the little getaway, even if it was for mundane things such as going to the supermarket, the bakery, and a small shop to get your mug. They made you wait in another aisle while Gaz and him debated between getting you the “I’m not short, I’m just more down to earth than most people!” one or the "Don't be a cuntcake" one that had a little drawing of a cupcake. Ultimately, their decision was the right one when you opened the box and cringed at the mug about your height. He really enjoyed getting to taste the macarons you bought. They were a bit overpriced for his liking, but they were tasty, so it was worth it.

"So... thoughts?" Gaz said, walking beside you as you entered the bar.

"It's...not bad," you say slowly, looking around.

It's clearly not your style or your idea of a bar. The decorations look like they were clearly chosen by a retired soldier (in a bad way), and it reeks of cigarettes; you could be smoking two cigars yourself by the amount of smoke you're breathing. Needless to say, it is quite busy, and Ghost and Price walk in front of you, with Soap behind as they go to the bar. Gaz just chuckled, probably sensing that this wasn't really your cup of tea.

"After a drink, it'll grow in you," he says as you start walking to the counter as well.

"Price! It's been a while, mate, what you've been up to?" The man at the counter asked cheerfully, already grabbing a bottle of whisky.

"Very busy months, Arthur. We are catching a break while we can," the captain answered while leaning on the counter.

"He is the owner," Gaz whispered to you.

You glanced at the man, looking him up and down. Checkered shirt, long beard, curly hair, missing a leg. Probably the reason why he retired in the first place.

"Oh, and who's this? Your daughter?" He said it with the same cheerful attitude, noticing you were looking at him and extending his hand to you. You chuckled as you shook his hand, and Gaz and Soap snickered at the comment as well.

"How old do you think I am? No, she's a new recruit," Price said in a mock-offended tone.

"Sa---...eh, Wire" Old habits die hard.

"Sorry, John. And it’s a pleasure to meet you, sweetheart.” He said it with a friendly tone, letting you go and putting a small bowl of peanuts in front of you.

“What can I do for you today?"

"Water, I have to drive."

"Whisky"

"Bourbon"

"Guinness, please"

"Do you have absinthe?"

"I actually do! It's been a while since someone ordered, but we serve it the classic way. Give me a moment." The man behind the counter, seemingly excited by the request, left to search for the necessary tools on the back.

When you looked next to you, your teammates were looking at you as if you had a second head.

"What?" Your tone was already defensive.

"Are you an alcoholic, bonnie?" Soap answered with his own question.

"I like the taste! It’s like liquorice."

"That doesn't help your case, luv," Gaz said teasingly, winning a playful scoff from you.

"Fuck off, it's just to warm up."

After Arthur came back, he made a small show of serving your absinthe, ice-cold water, absinthe spoon, and sugar cube, and you were surprised to even see a Pontarlier reservoir glass. After that, he went to serve the rest of the drinks less excitedly.

Once the first round was finished and Soap gagged after asking to try your drink, the five of you left the counter in favour of an empty table next to the pool, dividing into two teams: Soap and Ghost against Gaz and you. Price opted to be a spectator while smoking a cigar. After Ghost broke the aligned balls, their team had the solid ones, while you were left with stripes.

Alcohol must have really warmed you up because you were laughing more than usual at playful banter and at Soap's stupid dick jokes directed at Ghost regarding balls and pool cues.

Simon grumbled, but deep down, he didn't mind. For a change, it was nice to hear your laugh and to see your cheeks flush as you got hot from laughing and the heat of the place. He could see the men from the other tables ogling you, and although he knew you were perfectly capable of handling them yourself, he couldn't help but shoot glares in their direction when you weren't looking, making them immediately turn around at the sight of a man like Ghost catching them red-handed. A strange feeling of protectiveness was brewing in his chest—something about someone like you in a place like this and surrounded by rough men. It was foolish to think; he was well aware, and he felt almost embarrassed to even entretain the idea. Three months ago, he hated you and everything about you, and he let Price know multiple times that it was a terrible idea to have a criminal on the team.

But now...he had to look away when you bent over the table on your turn; suddenly, the inside of his mask was too warm.

"I need a drink," you announced, bubbly, stretching your back before handing Gaz your pool cue.

"No more absinthe, bonnie, won't hold yer hair while you throw up." Soap said, teasing, making you chuckle.

"I'm getting a coke; don't worry, mom."

"And I'm going to the bathroom," Price announced from the nearby table.

"Does anyone want anything?" You asked as you began to walk away.

"No thanks, luv," Gaz said, as Soap and Ghost only shook their heads as they were studying the table, seeing the best way to proceed as they were losing.

You walked away to the counter, which was across the bar, allowing the three men to keep sight of you.

Soap lowered his upper body over the table, hitting a red ball but missing the pocket, making him curse under his breath. Gaz chuckled at this, and they had a small break while you got back since it was your turn. He saw you waiting for Arthur to be done with another customer when a man he didn't recognize but saw on a nearby table approached you, shamelessly putting his hand around your waist as he stood beside you. The men on his table were watching the scene with a smirk on their faces.

This made him annoyed, and apparently, he wasn't the only one.

"Fucking dogs." Soap said, standing next to Ghost.

"Should we go for her?" Gaz asked, trying his best not to sound too eager. He saw you turn around with a scowl, clearly not happy.

"Lass can take care of herself," Ghost bluntly answered. Although his eyes were betraying him, he was still glued to the scene.

When he turned to look back at you, you were saying something to the man while glaring at him. The men chuckled and said something back, and you rolled your eyes. Your face went back to face the front. Maybe you didn't mind?

Then he saw how the man's hand slithered down your back, and he felt his blood boiling. But before his hand could reach its destination, a quick blow from your elbow harshly met its own destination, connecting with the man's nose. Not only making him pull his hand away but making him fall back with a whine of pain, and now everyone’s eyes were on the scene.

"You fucking whore!" The man said loudly before he got up, clearly aggressive. But you weren't backing up, either.

"Fuck," Gaz said before he quickly hurried up to the scene, followed by Soap.

As they arrived, Gaz got in between the man and you, and Soap quickly held you from behind, wrapping his arms around your waist. The man's friends are also holding him back, muttering stuff along the lines of “it’s not worth it” or “it’s just a chick.”

"Put your fucking bitch on a leash," he said angrily, blood pouring from his nose. Ah, a yank.

"Haud yer wheesht," Soap barked at him from behind you, still holding you as you tried to break free from his arms.

"I’ll chop your hands off." Not even you knew you had so much pent-up anger inside you, probably looking for the right situation to explode. Johnny was struggling more than he would like behind you, feeling like he was trying to hold back a bull. Bloody hell, maybe I should do more weightlifting.

"The fuck is your problem, mate?" Gaz through gritted teeth, but before the man could scream back, you were approached by Ghost. The man's eyes widened, and he stayed quiet, all the blood draining from his face.

"L-Lieutenant." He said this while standing straight, trying to sloppily clean the blood off his face with his hand.

"You are?" Ghost asked.

"Shadow Company, sir." You heard Soap muttering 'of course' under his breath, still holding you back.

"T-This girl broke my nose!" He said, pointing at you, making your efforts to break free from Soap's grip increased.

"Yer awfy crabbit, mo leannan," Soap whispered to you, not letting you go, trying to get you to calm down.

"Only because you tried to touch her ass like a fucking mutt in heat," Ghost answered bitterly, looking down at the man who looked as if he wanted the earth to swallow him.

"What’s the problem here?" Price approached the situation, fresh from the bathroom. At the sight of the captain, the man looked like he wanted to throw up.

"Graves men were getting handsy with the lass," Gaz explained, and he heard you groan in annoyance behind him.

"I can take care of him myself." You said through gritted teeth.

The same alcohol that made you giggle like a teenager is now making you thirsty for blood, as well as annoyed that they felt the need to handle the situation themselves, like you weren't an adult and a trained killing machine, just like them. All the frustration, sadness, and anger that you obediently swallowed in the first months of your new life, not wanting to worsen your already poor situation, is now coming back to bite you in the ass. You wanted to unleash every little one of your frustrations on the man in front of you.

"Mo chridhe, calm down," Soap said again. Gentle but struggling, you were using all your force to get out of his embrace.

"LT, help." He said in a strained voice as he kept trying to lock you in his arms, to which Simon rolled his eyes, but he eventually approached you. With ease, he wrapped his arm around your waist and threw you over his shoulder.

"Fucking hell, Simon," you said, now with a view of the 'Lieutenant Riley' written on his back.

"Some fresh air will do you good, flower." He said as he walked out of the bar carrying you.

This was a rather embarrassing situation, everyone was watching curiously. It was not the first time you were carried out of the bar, and certainly not your first fight. Probably not the last, either. You deep down knew that the gossip of the new girl getting into a fight and being carried away by her lieutenant was going to spread like wildfire on the base.

But, your head felt slightly woozy making you accept your fate as fresh air was starting to sound very nice.

"Sorry, Arthur," Price said with an apologetic look, looking at the bartender.

"Don't worry, John; good to see the new recruits still have some fire on them." He was hinting at the direction in which you disappeared.

"And you," Price said, turning around to the other men again. The main culprit is now holding a napkin against his nose, sitting down like a wet dog. John had a severe look on his face, making the men look more miserable. "Name. Now."

You sat in the Jeep with the door open. Ghost was standing in front of you, his mask lifted as he smoked a cigarette. You notice the blonde stubble; the concept of someone as big and intimidating as him being a blonde named Simon was quite funny, but right now you tried to focus on deep breaths, trying to calm your own anger down.

After a few minutes, you saw the Shadow Company men being pushed out of the bar by Gaz and Soap, followed by Price, who seemed to be on the phone. Your anger, far from diffusing, spikes again. You began to stand up again.

"Let them handle it." He says it in a calm tone, putting his free hand on your shoulder and making you sit again.

"I can handle it myself. My ass is the one involved, not yours," you answer, glaring up at him.

"I know you can, and as much as I would enjoy seeing you beat the shit out of them, you don't have to." He says, voice husky but surprisingly gently, looking down at you. You arched your brow at his words, and he decided to elaborate some more.

"Price is most likely calling Graves; they'll probably get a written reprimand, extra shit to do, and they will be banned from our sector on the base."

"I don't need Price to rat them out for me; I can take care of it."

"My point is that you don't have to. Listen: Despite everything, you are still on thin ice, flower. That thing is not a bracelet." He was gesturing to your ankle monitor.

"We don't give a shit if you kill them; in other circumstances, I would have gladly help you. Shadows are cunts, and they all act like mutts after a bone. But getting into a fight with people who are guests in our base is not a good view for the higher-ups, and Laswell and the Captain can only do so much in your defence." You listened attentively, his words making sense, but you still couldn't help but feel annoyed as you saw the man and his friends being escorted to their car, Price still on his call.

"Besides, you don't have to do it all yourself, you know?" He said that, and you directed your glance back to him.

"What do you mean?"

"You don't have to take care of yourself alone. We are a team; we take care of each other." You can't help but show a hint of surprise on your face.

"Are we?"

"Yes."

After almost four months...the bastard.

A smile slipped from your lips, and he kept looking down at you. In another context, he would be pissed at giving in, but he let you savour your victory, you deserved it.

The moment was broken as Price approached.

"Back to base, muppets," he said, opening the driver door, not before watching the car of the members of the Shadow Company leave the car park.

Soap came behind him to ruffle your hair, making you groan playfully.

"You okay, bonnie?" He asked warmly.

Gaz also arrived behind him, handing you your forgotten jacket and a can of Coke he bought you.

"Thanks, Kyle...yeah, I'm fine. Fuck... I’m sorry." A hint of embarrassment got to you as you rubbed your temples.

“None of that, bonnie. Anyone would have done the same. Not me, though; I would have kicked his balls.” Soap said, shrugging, making you chuckle.

“Not for punching him. For ruining the night.”

“Sweetheart, everything is fine. I talked to Shepherd; he’ll chew Graves ear off. For now, they’ll enjoy cleaning the showers with a toothbrush, and they’re banned from the mess hall and the gym, so you won’t see them.” You listened to Price, and you looked back at Ghost, who was giving you an ‘I told you so’ glance.

“Arthur said that you'd get a free drink next time.” Gaz said, also trying to lighten your mood.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, trying to avoid their gazes. You felt vulnerable, accepting help; it felt both terrible and surprisingly heart-warming.

The way back was actually nice, with Price telling a story from when he was a private and they had a few drinks while camping. One of them got so drunk that they made him believe there were lions in that zone, and he was scared shitless until he sober up enough to realise, they were in the German countryside.

The stories were a bit silly, but the way they were telling them was both endearing and entertaining. There was a fuzzy feeling in your stomach, and your cheeks hurt a bit because you were not accustomed to laughing and smiling this much.

next chapter: coming soon!

Thank you to the lovely people following this! <3: @no-lessthan3 , @blush-haze , @eustassh , @valkyrieunknown

if you like it leave me some kudos or suggestions on ao3! <3

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mimbotomy · 1 year

Note

ask game: ❤️🥳🎬💌

❤️ What is your favorite line that you’ve written in a fic?

With so many fics and WIPs, this was so insanely hard to decide, especially because I have so many conversations and scenes that I absolutely love. But I ultimately narrowed it down to five lines that have already been published, even if some of those lines are longer than one sentence or have been edited in my drafts since they were first posted 😂:

From chapter 5 of The Children of Kephallonia, With No Hesitation:

So when their training session ends so they can eat, Kassandra beckons Phoibe over, kneeling down to grip her shoulder and look her easily in the eye. She is not Nikolaos - she will be better than Nikolaos - but there are no other words than the ones her father gave her so long ago, “You are my greatest pride, Phoibe. Remember that.”

From chapter 40 of Rebirth, Sparta VII

“I take everything so personally, remember?” Kassandra hisses, spinning on her heel to face Alexios with a snarl. A snarl that immediately fades when Alexios flinches, and her eyes fill with pain and horror, “No. No, you don’t. Fuck!”

From chapter 49 of Rebirth, Adrestia II

“No, you owe me a blood debt,” Herodotos solemnly cuts her off, “And I order you to live your life thinking of nothing but your own happiness.”

From chapter 12 of To Live by Another Name, Atropos III

The death of Exekias the Legend is a pitiful one. He stumbles back, and drops his helmet so he can try and staunch the flow of blood with both hands. It pours through his fingers and he makes it two steps forward before falling face down into the pool. His blood turns the water red, and when she spits out the piece of his throat and as much of the blood as she can, it floats like a particularly gruesome leaf in a swamp of blood and bile.

From chapter 2 of Not a Malákes Ravenclaw, Ginny I

“Have you already forgotten what happened the last time you tried fighting one of my battles for me?” Kassandra cuts him off, her voice low and hard and full of barely concealed rage, “Perhaps I shouldn’t be surprised. It was rather quick for you, after all, even if it felt like I spent a thousand years watching your brains dribble out the back of your skull before Deimos tried to kill me too.”

🥳 Why did you start writing fanfic?

Well, although it wasn’t even my first or second fanfic, I really started writing fanfic because of my story Rebirth.

I started Rebirth bc I had been both reading a lot of time travel fix it fics for Game of Thrones bc I was incredibly disappointed in the final season and bc I was looking for AC Odyssey fics that explored a Kassandra that became more god than human. And when I didn't find as many as I would like, I decided to write my own.

And then I found that I really enjoyed writing and coming up with new situations and worlds to put these characters I loved into, and I just kept writing more and more stories. It became my creative escape in the way drawing and painting used to be, which is not to say that I don’t draw and paint now. But when I started Rebirth, it was the middle of covid, my beloved dog had just died, and I had just finished my first year as a graphic design student and what had always been my creative escape had become my job and didn’t help me destress in the same way it used to. And writing fanfic filled that hole easily.

🎬 If a movie or show were based on your fic, which fic would you choose and who would you fancast?

I think I’m going to have to say the Children of Kephallonia, because in a lot of ways, it’s what I wish AC Odyssey had been. But honestly, I think I would rather see that as an animated show rather than live action, and not just because I am so bad at fancasts 😂

But if I had to fancast CoK, obviously there is no one other than Melissanthi Mahut that could be Kassandra. If she is not cast as Kassandra for the eventual live action adaptation of Odyssey, I will riot.

Phoibe is a lot trickier, mostly because I don’t really know a lot of child actors. But I sorta envision her as a younger Auli’i Cravalho? It’s not quite right though.

I actually have to agree with your casting of Barnabas - Ian McShane is fantastic

As for Herodotos, the actor who instantly comes to mind is both totally wrong and also perfect in my mind, if that makes sense. For some reason, I can only imagine him as Ian McElhinney as Granda Joe from Derry Girls, but like, just the vibes? And only in certain moments? If that makes sense?

💌 Is there a favorite trope you like to write?

I have three favorite tropes, all Odyssey related. Or at least, I’m pretty these count as tropes.

First and foremost, I love writing OP Kassandra. Control over fire and lightning and the sea, summoning beasts and monsters, turning the Spear of Leonidas into an eight foot lightsaber? That shit is my bread and butter and jam, and even in fics where I make Kassandra a little more human, it’s going to show up at least a little bit.

Second, I love exploring Kassandra and Ikaros’ bond as something more akin to the bond between human and dæmon in the His Dark Materials books. Like it’s less Kassandra just occasionally astral projects into an eagle and more Ikaros is a not so small piece of Kassandra’s soul, the most important relationship in her life, and they are both individuals and one and the same.

Third, Phoibe lives. Her death in canon serves no purpose except to make Kassandra sad and makes no narrative sense. Obviously, Phoibe should have been the Atreus to Kassandra’s Kratos ala the God of War reboot, and there is nothing that will convince me otherwise.

With the exception of my MCUxOdyssey crossover, in my fics Phoibe either A, never dies at all, or B, comes back to life whether through time travel (ex Rebirth or my WIP A Flap of an Eagle’s Wings) or because Kassandra literally drags her out of the Underworld (ex A Miscalculation, Not a Malákes Ravenclaw, or my WIP There is No Escape. . .)

Ask me more!

#ask game #for lack of a better tag

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thetragicallynerdy · 1 year

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ao3 first lines tag game

I got tagged by @yerbamansa for this ao3 game! Thanks for the tag, friend!!

Rules: share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and tag ten people. If you have written fewer than ten, don’t be shy and share anyway.

Okay so I only went with the last ten that have been posted on Ao3. There ARE other more recent WIPs, but it felt like that was cheating XD (u can send me an ask if you wanna see those most recent ones sjskssk)

Anyway the last ten (including recently updated ones) on ao3 are:

1) Ask Me Anything: A TealOranges SMAU - OFMD, Olu/Jim, Rated E (for explicit, not everyone XD)

It’s a slow morning between student groups and everyone’s taking time away from cramped ship quarters. Jim’s been here a few months now, focused on the work, which turns out to be physically demanding in a way that leaves them exhausted. No energy to grieve.

2) if you still want me, please forgive me - OFMD, Jim/Ed, rated E

It starts simply. They’re on a case – and when aren’t they, these days? - they’re on a case, and things go badly. When Jim slips into the room opposite the one Edward is casing, scanning for something, anything – a rope slips over their head, tightens around their throat.

3) and we will build a home from the wreckage - OFMD, Jim/Olu, rated T

It starts, as so many stories do, with revenge. Or perhaps it starts before then, with the grief that the revenge is born from, with the blood and bone and crushed dreams. With the family that died, so very long ago. But this isn’t just any story, is it? No, this is a love story.

4) i've got sunshine on a cloudy day - OFMD, Ed/Stede, Ed/Jim, Jim/Olu (Poly AU), rated T

Edward knelt and peered under the dumpster, ignoring the instant bite of cold snow through his jeans. He was on his way home anyway, and he could change when he got there. But he’d heard a noise, and had to check to make sure it wasn’t what he thought it was. But sure enough, when he shined his phone flashlight beneath the dumpster, two glowing eyes beamed back at him. The high pitched mew of what could only be a kitten followed after. Its body was barely visible, a fuzzy void of pitch black in the greyness of the under-dumpster.

5) fool's gold - UnDeadwood, multi ship, collection of ficlets, rated T

He hadn't expected it, how beautiful souls were. How they shone and glittered like diamonds, like gold, like light through a glass-stained window. The first time he'd run into someone after it happened (the thing he doesn't think about, the hole in his gut and the sticky hot blood on his hands and the - no. he doesn't think about it) he'd stared and stared, barely managing to wrench his gaze away before someone noticed.

6) put your records on - OFMD, Jim/Olu, Jim/Ed, Ed/Stede (poly au), rated T

Jim toed their boots off and trudged towards the stairs, too tired to even consider looking for anyone until they'd had a chance to change into more comfortable clothing and maybe lie on the floor for a solid half-hour. It had been a long fucking day.

7) falling for you - OFMD, Jim/Olu, Jim/Ed, Olu/Frenchie (poly au), rated T

"JIM!" They faintly hear Oluwande holler their name at the same time they leap into the air to head the ball. They realize why a split-second later, as they feel a body collide with their legs. Someone tall, and big enough to knock them clean over.

8) you are in love - OFMD, Jim/Ed (poly au), rated M

Ed was giggling before they even made it into the booth. "Shhh," Jim said, far too loud, trying to slap a hand over his face. "You're gonna get us kicked out!" "Who's gonna kick us out," he laughed, batting their hand away then reeling them in close. Not that there was really any other choice, in the tiny mall photo booth. "Paul Blart Mall Cop?"

9) on this winter's night with you - UnDeadwood, Clayton/Matthew, rated E.

Today, Clayton thought furiously, is not my fucking day.

10) and if the pomegranates are in bloom - OFMD, Jim/Jackie, rated E

It’s not the first time they’ve ended up here, and they know it won’t be the last. Oluwande always gives them his blessing, with a kiss on the cheek and a ‘good luck, be careful.’ They know he’s still afraid of her. They know that they should have reason to be afraid as well, but they aren’t. They haven’t been for a long, long time. Jackie looks softer in the lamplight of her bedroom than she does in the bar. Stripped down to a simple shirt, trousers gone. Bare, but not vulnerable. They’ll get there, but not yet. Still – already she’s warmer, gentler. Soft around the edges, face open. Relaxed. It makes them wonder if this is what her husbands are allowed to see in her, or if it’s just for them.

Okay so some got more than a few lines because I felt like it XD

As for tags - I swear every time I come to a tag game I immediately forget which of my mutuals writes fanfic, so if you see this and want to do it consider yourself tagged. As for those I remember - if you feel like it, I'm tagging @yourlocal-charlatan, @redxluna, @swallowtailed, @lovewithagirl, @nevershootamockingbird, @thewollfgang, uhhhh i can't remember other writers so that's it!!

#and if u don't do tag games but i tagged u pls know i am giving u a lil kiss on the noggin #mwah i love u #tag game #ao3 tag game #we're just gonna ignore the spelling and grammar mistakes ok? i don't go back and edit things this long after posting them so its fine #no one saw anything

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crush3dmary · 1 year

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Fic meme. Stolen, sorry.

Rules: post the first lines of your last 10 fics posted to ao3. if you have less than 10 fics posted, post the first lines of all your fics.

I'll put it under a cut because I feel like it will get long.

Making of life a forged painting (YGO) I put the lyrics to Sprig by Emily Haines and the Soft Skeleton at the beginning, but here's the first few lines otherwise.

Malik knew grief; after all, he'd spent a lifetime in its throes.

He grieved a life lost to the chains of his lineage, he grieved family who wanted more than he could give. It was a shroud that enveloped him like the darkness of the tombs, but in perfect congruence, it had the familiarity of a lover all the same.

Fitting, then, that he'd end up grieving the only one he ever desired.

2. Dreamcrusher (Tales of Crestoria)

You’ve always been a strong kind of weak, and it’s a contradiction of a metaphor that fits your personality. Your family is poor and meagre, an endless toil through mud and dirt on the farms, but it’s all you’ve ever known as your hands fall into place with the motions of labour and strain. When night falls fast, you hold your siblings close, as being the youngest of three means you seek protection, affirmation, sanctity. You find yourself wishing for more, for a life that isn’t chosen for you, and deep down a part of you hates. The hatred is personal, but you will never let it show.

3. [solipsist] (YGO) from C0NTAGI0N

Bakura could no longer remember his first death. He knew it was the hands of a bestial Pharaoh, and the moments prior were etched into his memory like the carvings of a tomb. An incineration like a supernova, the rupturing of his skin's topography. But, of course, how many times he died following would depend on how one defined death to begin with.

4. A Generation of Ghosts (Tales of Symphonia)

Zelos could still remember the first day she came to the manor. It was the day of his fifth birthday—the twenty-eighth day of the second month of the Tethe’allan calendar, and hardly a moment past two in the afternoon. The priests woke him early for a ceremonial brunch in the city’s heart and lungs to celebrate—his meal took longer to arrive than most for reasons he’d only find out years later, when a guard’s body dropped to the ground following the obligatory taste-test, normally performed out of his sight—but really, those kinds of events were never held for him, anyways. That much he knew, even at his tender age.

5. [saudade] (YGO) from C0NTAGI0N

Dear Amane ,

Things have been very strange lately…

6. a violent history of benevolence (Tales of Crestoria)

Sometimes half-hearted kindness is crueler than nothing at all. Aegis stood at attention with a fist draped over his heart, guarding his station by Rebecca’s chambers just as he had been assigned. He wasn’t quite facing her at his post by the open door, choosing instead to spare her glances from the limits of his vision while she stared through the stained-glass windows into the night sky.

7. Glass houses, and all. (Tales of Symphonia)

When all was said and done, Zelos always knew he'd end up unhappy.

Well, it wasn't quite the end, he supposed. Not yet. But he knew the game and how to play it, the same song and dance that left him embarrassingly close to self-consciousness on the best of days, and strange, sad, and utterly alone at worst. He knew he'd end up unhappy because he'd always been unhappy. The pipeline from a child who'd grown up in a hurry to an adult who killed the only part of him that feels.

8. chiaroscuro (Tales of Crestoria)

misellus (feminine misella, neuter misellum); first/second-declension adjective

Diminutive of miser (“poor, wretched”)

9. Morningstar (Tales of Crestoria)

When Aegis met Vicious, he learned to dance with the devil. “Find the Great Transgressor,” the King had told him, “and don’t come back until you bring me his head.” When he heard those words, he expected to meet a monster, someone barely human and only beast, ready to bare his claws and rend flesh from bone. He pictured a pointed tongue and sharpened teeth, something that spewed venom and poisoned to the touch. He pictured monster. He pictured beast.

Surely, that was the last thing he found.

10. Absurdities and Echoes (Tales of Symphonia) - this will be updated very soon. Very very very soon. Please sit tight.

“For how could I help you? I’ve no cure for happiness.”

- Anna Akhmatova

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clericofshadows · 7 months

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dialogue tag game

tagged by the lovely @rotschopf-thedrow

rules: pick up to 10 characters and share one of your favorite lines of dialogue you have ever written for them!

this is cruel I have so much dialogue how can I choose favorites? this is definitely one of those things where I will give completely different answers if I'm asked about this again :)

choosing just one bit of dialogue for Regis Shepard is so hard, but a snarky one I've liked is from feeling numb, lost in time. Some of my favorite moments with Regis are when he's fucking with people.

“What story?” Regis asked with a smirk, realizing he could fuck with him. Regis and Joker have never had anything more than a barely civil relationship, but there were times they could mess around with each other without too much hostility on the other’s part. Regis figured this could be one of those times. “The one where Kaidan and I met Zaeed while on leave and learned a hell of a lot more about where our tastes lie?”

2. Vikram T'Lara, Regis's asari matriach uncle, from feeling numb, lost in time, in which Vik inevitably gets in contact with Regis while he's with Cerberus.

Vik rolled their eyes. “Goddess, Reggie, you knew what I meant. You know, seeing you grow up has been some of the best memories of my long life. I’m very grateful to have been part of your family.”

3. Jeff "Joker" Moreau, in don't ask about Ryuusei, in which they try to figure out the deal behind their "emails."

“Wait a minute, you messaged me. For a second, I thought it was a prank. I mean, hello–” he gestured around. “I know you. This is your personal hell, but maybe you decided to let that all go to celebrate your favorite pilot.”

4. Kaidan Alenko from you got me in a chokehold, a flashback to after Alchera.

"Couldn't have controlled? No, you just couldn't stand being wrong about anything involving the Normandy! But it doesn't matter anymore, now does it? You might've saved the ship a few precious seconds, but Regis didn't get any!" Ashley stepped between them, interrupting whatever Joker was going to say next. "This is not the time to be fighting! God, it's a terrible day when I'm the fucking mediator. Joker, you knew what the orders were. Both of you, walk away before things get more ruined than they already are." "You aren't going to call out Alenko for prioritizing his boyfriend over the rest of the crew?" Kaidan felt his biotic corona roar to life. "Go fuck yourself Joker and remember that Regis died for you! He was never going to leave anyone behind! And he chose you."

5. Admiral Steven Hackett, from so let love reign.

"Did [Zaeed] tell you to ask me about the Frozen Pyjak?" [Hackett] chuckled.

6. Zaeed Massani, from a WIP fic of the aftermath of his loyalty mission. I hate that this is one of my favorites, but it hit exactly the way I wanted it to.

Zaeed spun around, pointing a finger in Regis's direction, his face twisted with anger. "What the fuck was that, Regis?" "I could ask you the same damn thing. We wouldn't even be in this fucking situation if you weren't so consumed by revenge and just slowed down and listened," Regis replied, his tone flat, carefully keeping his expression neutral. "That's fucking rich." Zaeed laughed, laced with bitterness and anger. "The whole reason why you're even playing nice with Cerberus is so you can tear them apart. You're biding your time to get back at T'Soni as we speak. But the moment I get the chance to get what I have spent years working towards, you throw it all away for a few extra lives. How about that, Butcher?"

7. Ashley Williams, from late night conversations. In which she and Regis chat about things.

“And now you’re here, abusing your Spectre benefits so you two can share a bed together,” she echoed, nudging his arm. “I would offer to go ring shopping with you, but something tells me you already have that figured out.”

8. Nyx Shepard, from the story of a weapon. I'm still trying to figure this bastard out, but he's already had his moments.

Nyx's intense purple eyes watched Kaidan closely as he examined the dagger. "You've been in my goddamn bed," Nyx finally stated, a small grin playing on his lips. "So, you've seen a lot of me. But not many have been close enough to see this blade on neutral ground.” Kaidan felt a flush of warmth creeping up his cheeks, but he didn't shy away from Nyx's probing gaze. "Well, I'd say it's quite an honor," he replied, his tone playful, though tinged with a sense of curiosity. "Your bed and now this? What’s next…” “You tell me,” He chuckled. “Every weapon has a story. What is mine? You get one question, the rest you try to figure out on your own.”

I think that's about it... I could try to do a few more but I like what I have here.

tagging anyone who sees this and wants to participate! tag me if you do :)

#tag game #cleric's wip #cleric's writing

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acollectionofficsandshit · 2 years

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Chapter 11: Three Of Us

Max Verstappen x Reader (Single Dad AU)

Chapter 1 + Chapter 2 + Chapter 3 + Chapter 4 + Chapter 5 + Chapter 6 + Chapter 7 + Chapter 8 + Chapter 9 + Chapter 10

Chapters: 11/?

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 11,296 Words

Masterlist

I’d like to thank @lightsovermonaco for being my beta and for more importantly keeping me sane because without her influence it’s anyone’s guess where I’d be. I also owe @sassybatflowerpaper an enormous thank you, not only for being my friend but because this story, at it’s very core, is our love child.

Sunday, November 11th, 2018- São Paulo, Brazil

Brazil Grand Prix, Autódromo José Carlos Pace- the Interlagos Circuit

“It’s about fucking time,” Max says in the heartbeat before you come crashing together, giving you a savage grin that you return without a second’s hesitation.

“Took you long enough,” you retort, carrying that same smile over into the first brush of your lips against his, grinning into the kiss as you throw your arms around his neck, one of his hands finding the nape of your neck and the other pressing flush to the curve at the small of your back, molding your body to his with an ease that only serves to further confirm what he’d already known to be the truth.

Whatever this is and whatever you are to each other, regardless of wherever it is that you both end up or how this all works out in the end, there’s no undoing the fact that you’d been meant to have the other, you’d been made for this- to belong to one another for at least a time if it’s not destined to last forever.

“I don’t know what you were waiting for,” you whisper, the words filling the almost imperceptible distance that separates his face from yours.

“The same thing I always am,” Max confesses on your shared breath, too far gone to bother to try and stop the word before it can do any inevitable damage, beyond caring how it’ll sound when it’s said aloud, “you.”

“We can’t-” you start but he can already see where you’re going with this, heading you off before you can get ahead of yourself, in spite of the fact that he doesn’t have a single clue what had just changed for you.

“We won’t,” Max isn’t even certain what he’s agreeing to but it just seems like the best avenue currently available to him.

“Just- just don’t kiss me again,” you say, sounding slightly out of breath as he maps a path down the line of your neck with his lips, “this-that is fine,” you shiver, tipping your head back, baring your throat, giving him free range, “just don’t-”

“Don’t kiss you,” he interjects, finishing your sentence for you, “got it.”

He pretends like he doesn’t know or particularly care why you’d instigate this new rule but neither could be farther from the truth.

“Anything else?” Max asks offhandedly, then continues when you remain silent, “come on, out with it,” he chuckles softly, savoring the moment and the way your body reacts to the rippling echo of his laughter, your skin prickling at the sensation as a shudder sends shockwaves skittering down your spine, shivers lingering at the small of your back.

Your mouth falls open, lips parting just a fraction of an inch which quickly proves to be more than enough to guarantee that Max doesn’t miss any of those soft, breathy sounds you’re making, the ones that slip out with such delicacy he’s certain you’re not even aware of them.

The fluttering whimpers build, amplifying into moans that spill uninhibited from you, over and over again until he’s wholly certain the cadence of each has been etched into his skin, locked away in his memories, hoarded and packed safely away, until Max is certain he’s saved enough to survive the winter that will last the remainder of his days, that he knows will come in all its frost bitten trappings, all it’s glacial glory, as sure as he knows that some day, and someday soon, far sooner than he’d like, you will be leaving him behind, taking with you all the warmth you brought with you.

And then, then the first snow will come.

“Beg,” the word snags his attention, the cadence of the three little letters registering with Max’s mind but while the sound of it rolling off your tongue is evidently worthy of recognition, the meaning of it is deemed to be less so, his thoughts taking longer than is strictly necessary, than would usually be necessary, to process the meaning of it, which only finally reaches him after a rather substantial delay.

“What?” Max asks because the answer that his brain supplies him with feels uncertain, like its unsteady, as if the translation he’s been given is inconclusive at best and entirely unsubstantiated at worst.

All of a sudden, he’s less than certain he knows English at all, the language feeling just out of his reach, like all the years he’s spent learning and speaking it had never happened at all, making him question if he’d dreamed the whole thing up, if he’d only thought he spoke it fluently and had in fact merely been warbling along in unintelligible gibberish.

“If you want something from me,” you put a firm hand on his chest and push, forcing him pause, stopping his thorough exploration down the column of your throat, “if you want it bad enough,” preventing him from continuing along the path he’d been on that would have taken him lower, venturing down to trace along the boundary line of your shirt that falls just below your collarbones, cutting into a sharp v neck that comes to a point just shy of the beginning of the swell of your breasts, “then beg. Beg me for it, Max.”

“I-” he’d been entirely unprepared for the sharp turn things have just taken, seemingly cutting around a blind corner at a breakneck speed with such veracity that he’d somehow managed to lose both the high ground and his formerly iron grip on the upper hand in the blink of an eye, “you- what?”

“I want you to fucking beg for it,” you look at him with heavy, half lidded eyes, through thick lashes still darkened by the makeup he’d watched you put on this morning through the cracked bathroom door without your knowledge, “like a good boy,” a smirk at your lips that’s not anything he’s ever seen on you before, that has a heat to it that tugs at something deep in his chest and thrums through him, his cock twitching in his pants, now painfully and achingly hard, “and don’t you dare waste my time- make it worth my while, won’t you?”

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

“Just let me touch you,” Max doesn’t afford himself the opportunity with which to overthink things, knowing better than to trust his mind or his traitorous thoughts to not get ahead of itself and properly fuck him over.

He’s seen it happen before and he’ll be damned if he allows it to happen again at this particular moment, he won’t ruin this by overthinking things, he has certainly already more than outdone himself in that particular arena in the course of today, God only fucking knows.

“You’re already doing that,” you point out unhelpfully, outright and stubbornly refusing to make any of this easy on him, “so, if you want something else, if you want more, want me, then ask for it or make it happen.”

“Awfully demanding tonight, aren’t you?” Max grumbles, more out of a need to push back if only momentarily, without any real intent to put a stop to things, “I knew you were bossy but this?”

He whistles low, almost fumbling the casual, flirty gesture when your eyes suddenly drop to his mouth, then promptly catches your bottom lip between your teeth as if in some last-ditch effort to follow your own rules and not kiss him again.

“This is-” you’re still paying the utmost attention to every detail, tracking every word as it rolls off his tongue and watching with an intensity which tells Max that, against your better judgement, you’ve found yourself utterly unable to tear your gaze away, “this is in a league of its own.”

“Oh, fucking bite me, why don’t you?”

“Please,” he’s having to pace himself, to keep a tight leash on his tongue and speaking sparingly, knowing that if he doesn’t keep himself under absolute control, and if he does fail to continue to act with the utmost degree of restraint then he’ll lose what little control he still has over the situation just as quickly as it had appeared and that- that is unthinkable.

“Max,” it’s such a simple word on principal, unadorned and unassuming as it, almost minimalistic in its composition and yet, when it’s like this, with you, as it has been so many times before, in countless other instances under vastly different circumstances where its intended effect and the one it actually has on him is wholly unintentional, the sound of his name on your lips holds absolute power over him.

Every single time, without fail, those three little letters, his three letters, from your mouth, is his salvation in the same breath it damns him to lowest circles of hell, somehow saving his soul from eternal damnation with the seven deadly sins in tow, taking him from sainthood to excommunicate in just the time it takes for you to say his name like that, as you always do.

“Again, say it again,” Max doesn’t have even the slightest clue what you’d intended to say next or where you were going with it but he doesn’t bother to try and find out, knowing it hadn’t really mattered since you’ve made it abundantly clear that tonight is his to claim, his to dictate as long as he plays by your rules so he does just that, leaning into what he’d been told to do, at long last letting himself be consumed by the pure, unadulterated, single minded pursuit of satiating the need now building to a fever pitch in the pit of his stomach.

“I need- you- please, say my name-” he says with a disjointed stutter, forcing his way through speech, which in a matter of seconds has gone from feasible to an utterly inconceivable task as Max fights a losing battle on two fronts- internally, desperately trying to collect his thoughts to get a coherent sentence out while externally, one arm now wrapped tightly around your waist, his right hand finds the back of one thigh, he hooks your leg over his hip.

“Anything, Max,” you’re breathless beneath him, “Max- I mean it, anything- whatever you want,” your chest heaving you continue, “whatever you want-” he can feel every inhale, feel the rise and fall, like your respiratory system has suddenly gone on the fritz, your lungs only ever expanding halfway before you’re exhaling again, “Max- mine- my Max-”

His brain cuts out then, at the far-reaching implications of what you’d just revealed, at the inherent ease with which you’d turned the corner into laying claiming, going from using his name to a bold, shameless ‘mine’ only to then take a hard, sharp right into ‘my Max’- into calling Max what he knew himself to be, what he had been for just shy of half a decade now, what he’d still yet to actually admit to his being.

Because regardless of the fact that your voice had suddenly cut out-- and in spite of the interruption to the regularly scheduled programming- it is a substantial and leading admission, retaining the integrity of the initial statement, of your impromptu heat of the moment confession on subconscious word choice alone, which, in Max’s eyes, makes it well worth its weight in gold.

Max can’t help himself, beyond caring that while you’re wearing slightly less than him, with just leggings and an oversized white sweater he doesn’t need to ask to know is his, as opposed to the clothes he’d thrown on after showering in his trailer at the track, you’re both still completely dressed, which serves to only make it feel more obscene when, half carrying you, he hauls you backwards with him, pulling you down to straddle his lap as he lands in the armchair in the corner opposite the bed.

“I’ll fucking beg for it, I don’t care. I don’t fucking care,” he’s grinding against you in earnest now, not giving a fuck about the impression he might be giving off at the moment because after years and years of wanting this, of aching to have you like this, he’s finally found it, and he won’t be the fucking dickhead who takes a moment for granted, “please, just like that.”

Especially not now, when Max has gotten through being rather unceremoniously launched back into your orbit and then held there by the same gravitational pull that had brought the two of you together in the first place by sheer force of will alone.

And yet, beyond the strength of his character, Max had to make one concession about which, once upon a time, had been topic he’d avoided at all costs but which he now was far less bashful about since shame had, in recent weeks, become a concept which he didn’t particularly have the time or space in his life for anymore.

So, even now, Max maintained he’d only survived the day in, day out forced proximity while in such close quarters that the two of you had no choice but to live practically on top of one another because of the privacy afforded to him by a locked bathroom door and a solitary moment in the shower, alone with his thoughts and his fist under the running water.

“Look, we’re acting like we have time, talking like we do but we don’t, we don’t have long, we don’t have the time I’d like to take- that I will take on you,” he’s purposeful with the stress he applies to his sentence, willfully putting precious, fleeting seconds he won’t be getting back into driving his point home because if you take nothing else he says to heart, Max wants this to be what sticks, “it might not be tonight or tomorrow, might not be this week or this month, or hell, this year but it will come and it will be good, it’ll ruin you, it’ll ruin me, and we’ll be fucking better off for it.”

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

In the beginning, at the start of all this, you’d fully intended to do two things- to hear Max out and then, to walk away.

It was supposed to have been that easy, that simple, that fool proof of a plan.

Listen, peppering in a few sympathetic sounds here and there while nodding understandingly, then make your excuses and leave before things get out of hand.

From the outset, you’d only let yourself scan into your empty room to wait for Max on the grounds you’d follow the rules as they’d been predetermined to be, you’d reminded yourself time and time again of what the parameters were, repeating them over and over inside your mind and yet… you’d still found yourself in this predicament, with absolutely no intention whatsoever of bailing out.

Not even in the face of the latest development, of Max’s last declaration, which still echoes in your ears even now, the words only growing louder in the lull that falls following their pronouncement, in the absence of a response, seemingly amplified by the time it takes for you to find your voice again.

“Look, we’re acting like we have time, talking like we do but we don’t, we don’t have long, we don’t have the time I’d like to take- that I will take on you,” he’d said.

“It might not be tonight or tomorrow, might not be this week or this month, or hell, this year but it will come and it will be good, it’ll ruin you, it’ll ruin me, and we’ll be fucking better off for it,” he’d continued.

“Yeah?” You breathe out, lips parting against the curve of Max’s neck, giving in to the urge to taste him, letting your tongue dart out, dragging the tip of it across the swell of his Adam's apple, “will we? Be better for it?”

An unintelligible jumble of noises comes out of Max, none of it clear enough to take the shape of any proper words but the meaning is clear none the less.

Yes, we will.

“All this talk, of ruin and taking time, of if, then, when,” you don’t let up, refusing to take mercy on the man beneath you, who’s been reduced to incoherent mumbling and mindless movement, “you’d think there wasn’t now.”

“I know there’s a now,” Max retorts, rolling his hips up to meet yours, bringing with it a wave of white hot, consuming pleasure, washing through you with unadulterated, unrestrained ecstasy that seems unthinkable for something so simple, so base as this, momentarily quenching the thirst for him, for more, as he rocks against you.

“So, what is it that you’re trying to say?” he demands, one hand releasing its bruising hold on your hip to settle, solid and warm and unyielding, on your throat, “speak plainly.”

Your jaw now held between his thumb and forefinger, Max takes full control of your body, first pulling you away from where you’d been nipping at the tender skin below his ear, then pushes your chin firmly in at an angle until nearly grazes your neck, dragging your face down, forcing you to look at him, to meet his eyes and hold his gaze.

"Spit. It. Out.”

“I’ve never known you to talk this much, when you could just as easily show instead of tell,” you say succinctly, watching in silent delight how, when your words land, Max’s reaction is instantaneous, his expression darkening immediately, his already domineering grip on your face escalating, his hold tightening to the point of very nearly being disquieting, his fingertips digging in uncomfortably, as between your legs, he stills, suddenly going rigid and stiff as a board under you.

You grin savagely up at him, finding that you like the way it hurts, how much you like the way it hurts, the now steady thrum of pain lancing through you, radiating out, in all directions, from the places where his fingers bite into your skin, feeling wholly unsurprised at how little time you actually have to enjoy this latest development before Max makes the very same discovery.

All it takes for Max to become apprised of this fact is one brusque look down at you, the corners of his mouth pulling taut before unfurling into an expression that reflects your own, a smirk now playing at his lips, heat kindling in the planes of his face, his features betraying the fire that roars to new, self-satisfied heights in the pit of his stomach, its flames going white hot as they climb, burning higher and higher until they lick against his ribcage, singeing the hollow of his chest, leaving a fresh layer of ash painted on the exterior of his heart.

“You know what?” he grinds out, coming up short as he straightens in the seat, leaning forward into your space until your breath intermingles, until you share the same air, his hand still wrapped around your neck, spanning the curve where your jaw meets the line of your throat between his thumb and his pointer finger, “I’ve had just about enough-”

“Oh, you have, have you?” you ask in a simpering little voice, forcing your bottom lip out into an over exaggerated pout in mock sympathy.

“Oh, that’s it- fuck it, let’s go-” Max’s patience finally gives out, his self-control giving out at the same time his restraint snaps, and he hauls your face down to meet his, closing the distance between the two of you before you have a moment to protest, his lips crashing into yours with a force that makes you gasp, leaping at the window of opportunity, not hesitating for a single second before he’s shamelessly licking into your mouth, exploiting your involuntary intake of air without remorse.

Max’s hand on your hip snakes upwards, a certainty to its movement that threatens to break what little self-discipline you have left, very nearly making you beg for what’s imminent, what’s already coming your way, your pleading whimpers just barely smothered, building and building in strength, in veracity and boldness, until they break free, only spilling out when his fingers reach the top of your leggings and, slipping below the band of the waistline, start to move lower under the fabric.

When he finds his way clear, unimpeded by so much as a scrap of lace, Max breaks the kiss, his brow furrowed and eyebrows already raised, arched up questioningly, with a sinful little smile playing at his lips, his chest still heaving as he tries to catch his breath, sucking down a fresh lungful of air before he asks, almost reproachfully, “you’ve not got anything else on?”

“What do you think?” You inquire by way of a response, skirting around actually answering his question in favor of being purposefully unhelpful, throwing in a wink for good measure.

“Do you just never wear underwear with these or was tonight just an exception?” Max demands, his gaze glinting with unspoken warning, cautioning against continuing on in this manner.

“Not when we’re home but, on the road, I usually do,” you explain sparingly, letting out a soft amused laugh the pained sound Max makes at this particular revelation, giving him a small, playful little shrug as he groans, before redirecting your attention to answering the first half of the question before continuing on to the second half, careful in choosing your words before speaking them aloud, “so tonight… Tonight was a deliberate exception.”

“You’re not making this easy for me,” he sounds like he can’t decide how to act, like he’s torn between ordering you to go into explicit detail and giving in to the devil in his ear, the one no doubt whispering sinful nothings from its perch on his shoulder, filling his head with the depraved, demoralizing acts you can see simmering low, just barely kept in check and threatening to boil over.

“Never intended to,” you confess, “not when I made you beg, made you plead, made you snap.”

“You want this then? Want me?” Max grits out like every letter hurts him to say, like every question takes a toll, “you’re not just doing what you think I want you to?”

“God damnit, Max! Stop fucking thinking so much and just take what you want already! Stop torturing us both, for fucks sake-”

You choke mid-thought, your words dying where they are, all but forgotten as Max does just that and sinks one finger into you, slowly dragging the pad of his thumb through your slick folds, working from where he’s buried up the knuckle inside of your fluttering pussy up to your clit which aches to be touched, the need having built to a fever pitch, until the rhythmic tattoo of your beating heart seems to echo between your thighs.

“Fastest way to shut you up; noted,” under normal circumstances, at about any other time, the cadence of that singular sentence with it’s quite conspicuous shift in diction, each word composed by consonant overwrought with condescension and vowels drunk on self-satisfaction, and the note of superiority to Max’s knowing tone would have warranted some degree of reproach and a verbal dressing down but at present, you’re willing to make an exception– if only, just this once.

“Fuck me, you always like this? Soaking, dripping wet?” Max only just manages the sound that starts in his chest, building and building until it has nowhere to go but up, threatening to spill out of his mouth before he smothers it in the back of his throat for the crime of being unknown, a seemingly instinctive, involuntary response to the needy little noise you’d just made, its fate sealed by the fact that even in its infancy, his moan had been far too close to a whimper for his liking.

“More- I need more-” now you’re the one who’s begging but you’re beyond caring, “please, Max- please, more.”

“Look at you, putting that pretty little mouth to work,” Max remarks placatingly, his retort smarting slightly as it lands but its sting is immediately forgiven and forgotten when he does as you’d asked. His middle finger joins his forefinger, the latest addition bringing a sudden, welcome stretch with it, as he works the pair back and forth, curling both in a come hither motion every time you clench down around him.

You’re desperately trying to keep your thoughts from wandering, wholly uninterested in lingering any longer over all plausible reasons that could explain exactly how just Max’s fingers feel so fucking good or the possible rational for why this time, with this man, is so infinitely better than any prior time that he’s managed to single handedly change your opinion, of an act that in the past was rarely worthy of even remembering but which is now held in a new, highly revered esteem.

“Max, Max, Max-” you’re mindlessly repeating his name, clinging to the familiarity of how it feels in your mouth, how it sounds rolling off the tip of your tongue, something you’ve said countless times, which in recent months has become a staple in your everyday life, in a way it never had before that first weekend in September, that it’s recognizable even as everything else fades away, your whole world narrowing to the heat already beginning to pool in the pit of your stomach, the start of an orgasm already taking shape.

Over and over, again and again until the only sounds you can hear anymore are the ones of your own making, moaning in response to the twin strokes of Max’s thumb rubbing rough circles against your clit as he fucks you with two thick fingers.

“That's it, good girl, just like that,” he murmurs, leaning in as your head tips all the way back, your throat bared to him, finding his lips on your skin before he has any conscious thought to, “keep it up like that, saying it like that, and you’ll find out just how fucking far it’ll get you.”

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

Scarcely daring to so much as breathe, Max takes deep, even breaths, trying to savor this moment, to soak up every last detail, intent upon preserving the fleeting, finite present by immortalizing it in his memories, all without ending things prematurely and embarrassing himself in the same fell swoop by cumming right now, like he’s a horny high schooler all over again, about to be undone by over the clothes heavy petting, as he edges dangerously closer to spilling, untouched, in his pants.

This is so fucking humiliating, to point of very nearly bordering on being demeaning.

Leave it to Max to make a complete and utter fool of himself at a time like this. Reduced to nothing, to the bare bones, by little more than soaking wet, tight heat of your cunt riding his fingers and the three letters of his name from your mouth.

Here he was, struggling to get a hold on his truant mind, his rogue thoughts and his traitorous body, dead set upon putting the lot of them back where they belong, under his purview, at his command, without so much as a toe out of line. Something which, under the current state of affairs, was little more than a pipe dream.

Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

Quite fittingly, humbled by what had been under his nose all along, by who exactly it was that had been hiding in plain sight while Max had been blinded by his foolish pride, too deep in his own stupidity to just open his eyes to the obvious, stubbornly refusing to just see what was there in front of him, right in his face.

But that’s when he hears it, the tell-tale little precursor to interruption, that is Kaia’s delicate, softly accented little voice, thin and reedy from sleep, filtering in from the far side of the wall at his back as, from somewhere next door, she calls out, first for you, for her Lovie, then for him, for her Da.

Her words muffled to a point of being only barely audible, to such an extent that if it were anyone else- that is to say, if it was anyone other than his little girl- Max didn’t think it would have even registered with him that someone was speaking, let alone being able to decipher the jumble of undefined, muted noises into a coherent string of words that hardly qualified as a proper sentence.

“Don’t you dare,” Max hisses at you, half listening to Kaia but keeping the wealth of his attention settled here, on you, absolutely determined to not let any of this go without a fight, dead set on finding a way stop the pilot light of this moment from going out while still doing everything necessary for what his daughter needs from the pair of you.

“I mean it, don’t-” all he has to do is take one look at your face, your throat bobbing just slightly before your lips part, to know you’re about to speak, about to change the tide and that when you do there will be no going back, no chance to salvage what had been just seconds ago so, in the interest of preservation, Max takes immediate action, clapping his free hand over your mouth.

“Do. Not. Speak,” Max warns, in a hushed whisper, “don’t you dare speak- don’t even think about it,” he cautions, letting what he’d said sink in before continuing, “I’ll tell you what we’re going to do and you’ll listen, then you’ll do it. Nod if you understand but not a word.”

You do as instructed, bowing your head once in silent acknowledgement, which Max instantly counts as a point in his favor, since strictly speaking, he’d really not been expecting you to actually concede to playing the game by his rules in the slightest, and accordingly, had approached this unforeseen turn of events with a “fuck around and find out” type of an attitude.

“Neither of us are going anywhere until you’ve finished, got it? No one moves, no one does jack shit until you cum in my lap, sat in this chair, in this room, and I finger fuck you- is that understood?”

This time, it’s not a single crisp nod that you give him but rather a flurry of movement, a series of quick, harried jerks of your head in assent which he accepts nonetheless, knowing he could plausibly demand you do it again and do it right this time if he really wanted to, if he was feeling particularly difficult as he often did but at the moment, he isn’t and honestly, he’s not about to push his luck by trying you just now.

Not when he has vastly better things to be doing with his already fleeting time, and more than that, not when for whatever reason, you’ve elected to follow his lead, which isn’t something he’s witless or shortsighted enough to squander, wasted on some imbecilic venture to be difficult.

“Come on then, we’ve got to go elsewhere” he prompts, “and I’m not moving my hand either, not until I can feel you cumming around my fingers so if you don’t like it covering your mouth than you’d better get used to it and quick because it’s going nowhere.”

His smirk shifts in an instant, morphing from a taunting expression into a true grin when, in spite of the uncertain light he can see flickering in your eyes as you look down at him, you impulsively kiss his palm and the underside of fingers in range, the warm glancing brush of your lips only seconds long, completely unexpected but the impact it has remains all the same.

You keep the gesture brief enough to be dismissed as nothing or encouragement if it was unwanted on his end, something which he didn’t fail to pick up on, taking note of it just as quickly as he consigned himself to setting this misunderstanding right.

So, Max decides to let himself enjoy this, to eat how your body responds when he makes good on his promise, gorging himself on all the little ways you react that he’d missed before, starting with the sudden, sharp exhale he feels when the heat of your breath hits his palm, the air seemingly knocked clean out of you as his first two fingers find the same rhythm they’d had before, slowly building up in pace until he can bury both to the hilt.

His thumb lazily circling your clit, his knuckles pressing flush the apex of your thighs with every thrust, coming away wetter and wetter each time, his pointer and middle fingers now sinking all the way home with a finality that makes its impossibly easy for Max to imagine fucking you instead, your walls clenching around him as you edge closer and closer to orgasming, still so god damn tight around his cock that he can hardly think straight, let alone do much else.

“I can feel it, I can feel your hungry little pussy starting to cling to my fingers like she doesn’t want to let me go. You’re riding my fingers like you wish they were my cock? Aren’t you?”

You whimper in answer, nodding yes, yes, yes in quick succession.

“I know, schatje, I know,” Max leans in, pressing his forehead to yours, “who would have thought that you’d turn out to be such a whore for me, hm? Such a good little slut, always ready to please, eager to obey,” his name slips from your lips like it's some kind of prayer, said with almost religious fervor, as if you’re seeking absolution at his hands, “so, do it- show me how badly you want to be a good girl for me and cum for me because next door, we’re in high demand.”

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

Monday, November 12th, 2018- São Paulo, Brazil

The Morning After The Brazilian Grand Prix

“Not to be insensitive but… this is like infinitely worse than it usually is, if you don’t mind my saying,” Daniel feigns delicacy as he breaks the oppressive silence that’s descended over the table, turning the last-minute meal before the car arrived to take the four of you to the airport into a suffocating, unwieldy affair.

“If you don’t mind my saying,” Max grumbles under his breath, loud enough to be heard but quietly enough for the mocking echo to be easily dismissed if Daniel feels up to being gracious this morning, which all things considered, doesn’t seem to be a feat he’s particularly up to in your opinion.

“Hey, don’t catch an attitude with me just because things on the home front aren’t doing well,” he responds, shrugging dismissively, “are Mommy and Daddy fighting again-”

“Daniel, I’ve told you once about calling-” the pause is infinitesimal, the scantest flicker of hesitation in Max’s words is so fleeting, so minute, that anyone else would fail to notice it- but you hadn’t and he knows that fact instantaneously, “us that. I will not tell you a second time.”

Max shoots daggers at his teammate, the agitation in his stare going from just shy of being tangible to outright hostility as he jabs repeatedly at his mostly empty bowl of fruit, his fervor making it abundantly obvious that if he had it his way, it would be Daniel, not a mangled slice of mango that he was now voraciously stabbing with his fork, each blow landing with a ruthless, vicious precision.

“Oh, how lovely,” you say wryly, rolling your eyes at the display, “fatherless behavior- and at breakfast no less. Charming, really.”

You might as well not even be currently ensconced in this booth in the hotel’s restaurant, framed in on both sides by the two Red Bull drivers as you are at present, for all the acknowledgement you get from the man at your right hand. Fucking prick.

Because despite his close proximity, sitting in a cushioned chair directly across the square, tablecloth draped table from Daniel, Max seems to be of the belief that it would be a waste of time to spare you so much as a sideways glance or a scoff of derision, let alone to squander precious, fleeting seconds on throwing a scathing, barbed retort your way.

“And you know what? What if I do mind you saying?” Max demands, immediately electing to ignore your remarks on the whole in favor of pursuing the line of inquest that had directly prefaced your all together minor contribution to the conversation, “what then?”

“Look, mate, to be perfectly honest with you,” comes Daniel’s perfunctory answer of a reply, “that doesn’t matter in the slightest to me.”

“Right, of course it bloody doesn’t,” the Dutchman retorts with a contemptuous sneer, tossing his fork down with a clatter.

“Call him off?” Daniel, the fucking dolt, directs the tentative request towards you, eliciting a heavy, frustrated heave of a sigh from you, as you shake your head doggedly, exasperation already well on the way to establishing its dominance over the morning.

“Because why would it?” he grumbles, throwing his hands up in disgust, the gesture rich with ire, “why the fuck would it?”

“Da!” Kaia suddenly interjects from where she sits in your lap, the singular word more than capable of commanding the attention of both men, who had, if their guilty expressions and rubbernecking was anything to go by, had forgotten entirely that she was even there at all.

“No,” she abandons what had once been a bread roll of some variety, that she’d eaten exactly half of before losing interest and setting her sights elsewhere, which incidentally had been upon reducing it to a crumbled mess, and points one chubby little finger at her father, punctuating the gesture with an admonishing, “bad word!” brokering absolutely no room for any mistake to be made about who exactly it is she’s addressing, “not at table.”

“Vlinder,” Max says placatingly as he tears his attention away from his teammate and redirects it to his daughter.

“No,” Kaia shakes her head firmly at her father, remaining stalwart in the face of his use of her pet name, a term which usually more than suffices to win her back over to his side without much further to do but has instead, for whatever reason, utterly failed him today.

“Seriously?” He reassesses the toddler’s doll-like features, scanning her face in search of any hint, no matter how small or fleeting, that he has any hope at all of attaining a pardon for his infraction, “I can’t catch a break today, can I?” Max rubs at his jaw with a tired hand, letting out a long-suffering sigh before continuing, “alright, alright. I’m sorry for my language. I’ll put a euro in the jar when we get home, okay?”

“Okay,” she nods solemnly, accepting his apology with a severity that should probably be wholly out of character for a two-year-old but isn’t for Kaia, not even in the slightest, “in jar,” she repeats Max’s words, reiterating his promise like she’s aiming to make it abundantly clear to her father that she’d heard what he said and fully intended to hold him to it, “when we get home.”

“That’s my girl,” Daniel reaches over and ruffles Kaia’s hair, leaving the two tiny piggy tails you’d painstakingly brushed her blonde curls into earlier completely destroyed, “take no prisoners.”

“Dan, I swear to God,” you snap, your temper flaring without much prior warning as the frustration and unadulterated agitation that had been simmering in the pit of your stomach for quite some time now, that you’d somehow managed to keep sitting just below the surface suddenly boils over at the sight of the work that had been hard won from an exhausted, stubbornly uncooperative Kaia this morning now ruined, right in front of your very eyes, “look what you did!”

“I-” the Australian splutters guiltily, quickly exchanging the proud smile and taunting glimmer in his eyes for a sheepish expression and a grimace, “my bad. I didn’t mean to, really- I didn’t!”

“Save it,” you don’t mince words, brushing away his skittish apology without missing a beat, opting instead to rummage around in your bag until you find what you’d been looking for. Having now located Kaia’s hairbrush, you toss it lightly at Daniel’s chest, not even bothering to make sure he’d actually managed to catch it before addressing the toddler in your lap, “go with Uncle Daniel, he’s going to fix your hair, okay?”

“Okay,” she replies cheerfully, not bothering to wait the split second it would have taken for you to help her get down from the booth, preferring instead to do it herself, climbing off your lap and landing on two feet on the restaurant’s carpeted floor with surprising speed and ease. With a dramatic huff and a roll of her eyes, Kaia extends an impatient hand for her father’s teammate to take, more than ready to go before he’s even managed to process what’s going on.

“Perfect,” you reply succinctly, winking at her as Daniel picks up the brush and scrambles to stand up, taking Kaia’s tiny hand in his own.

“Hey!” she tugs on his arm to get his full attention, “I want bunnies, not just piggies, okay?”

“I- Yeah,” he jerks his chin in assent, “I think I can handle that, Ms. Thing. Come on then, let’s go. After you, you show me the way.”

“You’re silly, Uncle Dan,” Kaia giggles brightly, grinning up at him as she continues to laugh delightedly, the infectious sound already starting to spread, forcing a chuckle from somewhere deep in Max’s chest in spite of himself, “I’m little! I don’t know the way!”

The silence that falls in the wake of the cheerful half of the party’s departure is immediately uncomfortable, somehow already feeling strained and tenuous, the now conspicuous lack of conversation glaringly obvious in the suffocating quiet which settles over the table like it has high hopes of smothering you both before the other two make their return.

You don’t have any fucking clue what to say or for that matter, what the hell one is supposed to do when they find themselves in a situation like this one, so you take the simplest route and keep your mouth shut, your eyes on your plate to keep your mind from wandering.

However, this particular avenue of conduct does in fact come with the previously unforeseen disadvantage that while you’re busy looking anywhere but in Max’s direction, you’d subsequently failed to notice that he’d been watching Daniel and Kaia’s retreating figures like a hawk, waiting until they’ve moved beyond even the most generous definition of being within earshot and have crossed over furthest boundary line of any reasonable expectation for hearing ranges before he finally strikes.

“About last night-”

“No,” you don’t hesitate, you don’t miss so much as a single beat, “absolutely not.”

“Look, we’re adults and we need to talk about it, about what happened,” Max is not to be so easily swayed, the expression on his face one of absolute determination, his demeanor wholly unimpacted by your harsh refusal to so much as even consider humoring him or this conversation.

“There’s nothing to discuss,” you respond dryly, keeping your words carefully schooled into a bored, clipped tone, one which yields nothing and encourages even less, “but I am overjoyed to know that after months of my reminding you, you’ve managed to finally get it through that thick skull of yours that you are, in fact, an adult. Glad that I haven’t been wasting my time.”

“I know what you’re doing,” he says in that same, infuriatingly calm voice, utterly unfazed by your frigid disposition towards him, his head tipping back at a slight angle, his familiar blue eyes now narrowed in assessment, “and while I respect your attempt, I won’t be accepting it.”

“I’m not sure what you think happened, Max,” you resist the pull of temptation to let your eyes leave his face, to break from the staring contest you’re presently locked in and watch as he shifts in his chair, his body now fully cheated towards yours as you continue, “but the way I see it, the events of last night were an anomaly, the result of a very long, very emotionally draining day and they meant absolutely nothing.”

“Liar,” there’s an air of certainty to Max as he speaks, brushing aside everything you’d previously said with a single, unhurried wave of his hand, “you filthy, filthy little liar,” the gesture is steeped in such unadulterated, unwavering confidence that you could throttle him for it, “it’s funny really, how it’s never been that hard to tell with you, when you’re lying to me, like you are now.”

“It meant nothing to me,” you insist, feeling your temper rise in your chest, suddenly furious and indignant over Max’s outright refusal to take your words at face value, to believe what you’d said and to take it seriously, “and I suggest, for your sake, that you come to terms with that fact.”

Leaning back in his chair, Max gives you a knowing grin as he raises both arms, stretching them out to their full length then sweeping them up into the air above his head, calling purposeful attention to himself and the muscular cut of his upper body, to his biceps that ripple with every movement, the tendons of his forearms flexing distractingly, lingering in the same position before lowering his arms, he interlocks his fingers and bracing his hands at back of his neck.

“While I always appreciate your suggestions, and truly I do, this time I won’t be following them,” he finally replies with heartfelt sincerity, “because you don’t mean that.”

“Except for the part where I really, really do,” you stonewall, torn between just continuing to deflect and giving in to the temptation to let your lingering frustrated exhaustion and your growing agitation at the all of it– at this morning, at the current subject of discussion, at Max, at what you’d stupidly let happen last night but most of all, above the rest, at how much you want to get it all back again– to just take the reins, yielding your efforts at self-control and continued restraint to the heat of the moment.

“Seriously, save it for someone who believes it,” Max says sagely, in complete and immediate dismissal of your words, of your insistence and of your bull headed insistence upon doubling down, “because I don’t believe, I never have and I never, ever will so, just don’t even bother,” eyebrows waggling, he jerks his chin at a point somewhere past your left shoulder, “they’re back already, aren’t they? How long do you think it’ll take before Daniel finally figures out what went down last night?”

“Well, considering that I still don’t have a fucking clue what happened and I was there, and God fucking knows you won’t be any help, I’d say Daniel will crack the code after he pulls off stealing the Declaration of Independence while following along the screenplay for National Treasure.”

“Woah, woah, woah- did someone say Nicholas Cage?” Oblivious and cheerful as ever, Daniel cuts in, bringing a definitive end to previous topic of conversation as he flops down into his chair and plops Kaia in his lap, all toothy grins and bright eyes, looking back and forth between your face and Max’s in question, “don’t leave me hanging here, it’s so rare that the two of you are talking about something that’s actually interesting!”

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

Wednesday, November 14th, 2018- Monte Carlo, Monaco

The Penthouse

It’s early when his phone rings, the shrill ring jarring in the quiet, pinked tinged morning light, knocking Max into consciousness with all the gentleness of a bull in a china shop, forcing him to tumble out of bed still half awake and bleary eyed to stumble across the room to where he’d left it on charge on top of the dresser last night in a matter of seconds.

He prioritizes ensuring that the two still slumbering forms curled up on the mattress behind him remain the way they are, still bundled up together beneath the down duvet to ward off the slight chill of the November’s winter’s day, silencing the ringing phone and take a moment to make sure both you and Kaia are still peacefully asleep before he even bothers to answer the call itself.

As far as Max is concerned, anyone calling him at this hour can sit on the other end of the line listening to the incessant rings for the space of time it takes him to wake up and check on his girls, and it would serve them right if by the time he did finally pick up, they’d either hung up or been greeted by his voicemail, since God fucking knows, he’s crossing his fingers that as he finally answers the call and raises the phone to his ear, the other person won’t still be there.

“Yeah?” It only occurs to him now, a beat too late that he hadn’t thought to check who the fuck it was calling him at 7 am on a Wednesday, but at the point, Max doesn’t try and remedy that as he flops down onto the sofa, too tired to do anything other than wait and see, “you’ve reached me, Max.”

He doesn’t have a single clue why out of everything he could have said that this is what his brain had gone with but whatever, he figures it is what it is, knowing that anyone with his personal number so unconcerned with the societal expectations of proper work or visiting hours to have called him this morning no longer has any disillusions about the grandeur of his character and will be rightly expecting a barely functioning Max to answer, if they even get that much.

“I take it you weren’t already up and about to head out for jog before I called then,” the gruff voice the man on the other end is instantly recognizable since he’s received enough of these calls to identify them in his sleep, a skill he’d obtained in the time before he’d become a father, in what feels like a different life, when he would have been tripping over his own feet to put on a whole show and dance of having been in the midst of a work out when his phone had rung.

But now, he doesn’t waste his energy on such things, not budging from the spot he’d landed in, finding he much prefers to assess the room around him which looks more like a home than it ever had in the past, scattered with children’s toys and dress up clothes, books piled on every other available surface, to forcing himself to go through that whole anxiety riddled, adrenaline fueled charade at the moment.

“You would be correct, Helmut, I was not,” he says plainly, “I was asleep in my bed where everyone else in the house still is.”

Max can’t help it, the way he grimaces at his reflection in the oversize flat screen television mounted on the living room wall in front of him, when his own words echo in his ears, the implication plain, easily inferred by even the most rudimentary of minds. All he can do is hope Helmut will opt to ignore it and refrain from commenting.

The man seems to be in a forgiving mood this morning so perhaps he’ll luck out and escape being skewered for his slip of tongue- Max wouldn’t put either eventuality past him, especially not under present circumstances, where what little of his good reputation that still remains, what has been salvaged by some miracle, must be protected and preserved at any cost.

“How wonderful… anyway, there’s a reason I’m calling, this isn’t a pleasure call, it's a business one,” Helmut declares, circumventing the silly little source for potential content that Max had concocted in his head deftly but without much grace, which was a mainstay in the older man’s character that he’d always liked, if perhaps only because it felt familiar, always reminding him of himself but mostly of his father, a fact which in its own twisted way had meant it felt safe.

“Of course, you’re a busy man,” he replies, agreeing with Marko more to be polite and to keep the conversation moving than anything else because while he assumes the Red Bull Racing advisor must be just that, a busy man, Max doesn’t know what he might actually need to be doing and to get done since beyond the Austrian’s guiding voice, mentor role at the team, he can’t think of any other time he’s seen him doing, well, anything.

“No one likes a kiss ass, Verstappen,” Max is 99% sure Helmut is joking but he is never really absolutely certain with him, instead opting to take a page out of the good doctor’s book and just skirt around the comment to the best of his abilities.

“Right, of course, sorry,” he quickly tosses out at random, conceding immediately in the interest of getting back on track, “so, what do you need to speak with me about?”

“Ah, yes, that. Well, not to be difficult but first, a forewarning. As far as anyone else is concerned, Christian especially, this phone call may have occurred but the conversation we’re about to have never happened. I will completely and categorically deny that the topic was ever broached privately between the two of us prior to being notified about it in an email that was sent by Christian Horner to you, me and your press officer on the afternoon of November 14th and you will do the same. Have I made myself clear or do you need to hear it again?”

“No, I got it,” Max insists, putting a confidence into his tone that is conspicuously lacking from reality, thanks in large part to just how fucking confused he is at the moment.

Because Marko had had him and then he’d lost him, and Max had gone from following along and understanding to turned around with no understanding whatsoever of where he was or how he’d gotten there in the blink of an eye.

“Glad we understand each other,” Helmut intones with such certainty that Max can’t help but to feel envious, leaving him with no choice but to just hope that he can make some sense of this and soon, “this next part is a touch more complicated than the last,” fucking wonderful, just what he needs, “because with parameters that are at your discretion.”

“My discretion?” he echoes weakly, slightly incredulous.

“Your discretion. You make the call, you do what you think is best, what you deem to be fit and I don’t have any say in the matter. I won’t comment, I won’t give my input, I won’t offer you any advice; I’ll accept your decision and leave it at that,” the older man explains brusquely, not giving Max the time to start overthinking this before he’s speaking again.

“So, I’m only here to give you a heads up and a quick overview of the imminent situation, I’ll tell you what I know and why I know it but that’s it. Beyond that, it’s entirely up to you if you’re going to tell her about what I told you,” Marko doesn’t bother to specify that ‘her’ he’s referring to is you because its unnecessary and he knows it, since that much, at the very least, is painfully obvious, “so, decide how much of this, if any of it, that you want to share with her and then let me know so I don’t put my foot in it.”

“If you think it's for the best to tell her nothing, as is your right to do, that makes no difference to me. But, at the risk of interfering exactly like I said I wouldn’t, let me just say this, let me give you a final word of warning.

In the end, if you do choose to leave her in the dark about our conversation and about the information I’m going to share with you, then so be it, but I encourage you to remember one thing– it is in your best interest, and in your family’s best interest, that you keep your story straight because if you don’t, it will be your downfall, not mine, not anyone else’s- yours.

She has never been one to put up with you and your bullshit, not in all the years I’ve known her, not from the moment the two of you, not since your first day in the Red Bull seat and I don’t expect that will change even on your last, so she won’t be starting now.

Because there is absolutely no doubt in my mind how it will go down if you do mess up and she does catch you. It will not, under any definition, be pleasant or pretty or worthy of polite society and I, for one, don’t expect there to be much more than scraps of you left if she does find you out.”

“Okay? Enough with the warnings and ghost stories about the woman I live with it, I don’t need more reasons to be scared of her, I really don’t,” is what comes out when Max opens his mouth, which he’s not really that disappointed by since he’s still just glad that he’d managed to say something in the sudden, immediate absence of clear, coherent thought from the inside of his head.

“That’s to be expected really, to have a good healthy fear of your partner,” neither he, nor the man on the other end of the phone comment on his choice of word here but they both take note of it all the same, albeit for different reasons, “but to get back to business, there’s going to be some changes being made at both a team level and a personal level on your end-”

“Wait, what-” Max cuts in, his curiosity already getting the better of him and outweighing his better sense but he doesn’t get much further than that as he quickly learns that Helmut has no intention of stopping, the older man just plows on ahead, acting for all the world as though he hadn’t said a thing.

“In light of recent developments and your newest business venture into physical altercations with fellow drivers… and while Christian and I have made some of these decisions together, the main reason I called and going over the team principal’s head to do it, is that Horner has hatched another one of his harebrained little schemes and he’s now on a warpath to see it happen.

So, later on today, there will be an email sent out which informs your household that on this coming Friday morning, November 16th, you’re all expected to arrive at the Red Bull Racing factory by 10:30 am so that Kaia can be handed off to Geri, who has volunteered take her for the day, and ensuring that the two remaining members of your family will be sat in Christian’s office no later than 11 am…”

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

Friday, November 16th- Milton Keynes, England, United Kingdom

Red Bull Racing Factory

"Let me preface this by saying that I expect you to wait and hear everything I have to say before you say anything. That means you," Horner points at Max, eyebrows raised in warning, "no storming out, no shouting, and especially, no tantrums. And you," he turns his attention to you, though his features soften slightly, an almost sympathetic light kindling in his eyes which instantaneously puts you ill at ease, unaccustomed as you are to being on the receiving end of such an expression from the team principal, "just know I don't suggest this flippantly, and that in this, you hold all the cards."

Now you're just fucking baffled because of all the things you'd expected Horner to say, for all the foreseeable reasons you and Max could have theoretically have been called into team headquarters on an off weekend at the end of the season, you'd been entirely unprepared for any those potential eventualities to be broach in such a manner. And you don't care for it in the slightest.

Not trusting yourself to speak, you merely nod in response, which in spite of your nerves comes out a far more graceful gesture than Max's, who roughly jerks his head, grunting in muted assent. Helmut Marko gives him a less than impressed exculpatory glance, clearly not much in favor of the action, and settles in to watch the young driver closely, making it abundantly obvious to everyone present that he doesn't trust Max to actually behave himself at all.

You don't fault the older man for this even a little since, if you are to be entirely honest, you don't exactly have particularly high expectations for Max or his behavior for the duration of this meeting either.

It's just smart to expect the bare minimum from the Dutchman, it's the safest course of action to take because that way, by erring on the side of caution, you've minimized both the chance of being let down and that of being caught off guard in one go, neutralizing any threat of subsequent disappointment in the process, and leaving only room for feeling vindicated when inevitably proven right.

Especially when in instances that so instantaneously come off as... questionable at best, and at worst... come off as the kind of shady backroom dealings that consume your personal code of conduct for breakfast, your morals at lunch, and polishes off your immortal soul by the end of dinner.

"But let's start with the easiest bit for now, get everything else squared away and out of the way so we don't even have the option to be in over our heads just yet," Horner announces, nodding along to his own words, clearly under the impression that by saying this, by giving an explanation to the reason why had just single handedly soothed away the anxiety and nervous energy already running rampant the office.

But he was sorely, sorely mistaken about that.

"It's imperative that things are at least beginning to return to normal, going back to business as usual, which means Max you need to be doing more than you currently are. You can start small, you can do interviews, magazine articles, photoshoots for your merch or the team's, or just showing up to an event or two during a race weekend when your attendance isn't mandatory- any of it.

"Your schedule needs to look how it used to prior to the addition of Kaia back in September," he glances back and forth between you and Max, not even bothering to hide the assessment in his gaze, trying and failing to get a read on either one of you, "which I know was a considerable change-"

"A considerable change?" Max barks out a scathing laugh at that, "I think that's putting it very fucking lightly," the sudden cackle of harsh, derisive laughter very nearly making you leap out of your skin, giving you such a fright that you're lurching forward, jolting upright in your seat, your heart now lodged firmly in your throat as you whip your head around, glaring reproachfully at the man sitting next to you, "there is so much more to it than that and you know it, sir."

At least Horner is slowly getting reactions he doesn't have to read between the lines to understand, since previously he hadn't seemed to have much luck exercising that particular skill but he hardly even notices what's being served to him on a silver platter, consumed as he is by the telling off he's currently receiving from the team's resident golden boy.

"You can suggest what you want, you can tell us what needs to be done, you can order me around the entire world for all I care but don't pretend like you're innocent, like you didn't take our two separate little lives," Max gestures first towards you, giving you a quick little grimace in apology for startling you a moment earlier, then back at himself as he looks away, turning to face Horner once again as he continues, "and just jammed us together into the one life under the same roof."

"Acting like we did this to ourselves, like you weren't the one who forced us to just fucking figure it out and make it work," half rising from his seat, Max closes the distance from his chair to the desk in an instant but he doesn't move any closer than that, "like there wasn't a child involved and it was all just some fucking group project. And now, all of a sudden, you want to get involved again? Really?" he lingers in place, looming menacingly in the air over the older man's head.

"Look, Christian, you're my team principal, you decide if I keep my seat at Red Bull or I don't and that's fine because I actually like you and I respect you; I really do but here's the thing– if you think you're about to just start jerking my- our family around again without first owning up to what you've done, then you can go fuck your-" Max slams both hands down against the gleaming wooden surface top with all his might, the last four letters of the final word lost but not missed, his point still more than made.

“Verstappen, get up, now,” your voice is calm, even but it commands attention, cutting clean through the tension pulled taut between the two men framing opposing sides of the same desk, brokering no room for Max to do anything but what he been told to, “excuse us, Horner, won’t you?”

You’re not asking him, you’re informing him but he doesn’t seem to care about that, too busy burning a hole in the back of Dutchman’s head to do more than jerk his chin in nonverbal dismissal.

“Outside. Now, Max. Go.”

Clearly, whatever it was that you’d just unknowingly walked right into the very midst of wasn’t as new or as unknown as you’d previously thought it to be to present company. Its waters must run deep, they had to for Max to have just sunk faster than he could swim, for him to get caught in such a vicious, sight unseen current so quickly, to have just happened upon an undertow capable of doing the lion’s share of his work for him.

He’d put on a good show but it’s still not enough to trick your eyes into believing he was a victim as he’d been pulled below the surface by malicious seas because innocent men don’t drown themselves if they have nothing to hide.

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

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lubdubsworld · 3 years

Text

物の哀れ ( ‘the sadness of things’.)

Alpha Jungkook x Omega Oc!

Genre : Angst , Hurt/ Comfort.

Chapter 1 ⋆ Chapter 2 ⋆ Chapter 3 Chapter 4 ⋆ Chapter 5 ⋆

Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

Summary : Nine months after her marriage ends, Kim Heejin is a reclusive artist, who works out of a renovated warehouse in Busan, her days and nights spent with canvas and paint. Its exactly what she’s ever wanted, to be left alone. And yet, that nagging feeling of incompletion keeps her on her toes. And perhaps, it is that longing for something substantial, something real that pushes her to give her flawed but lovable ex-husband another chance.

Chapter 9

“I… No. Just… please tell him I’ll be down…I’ll come down to the lobby to meet him.” I said quickly, panicking at the idea of having him here. I’d barely been here a day but this was still my space. And if I had him here then his scent would just seep into every nook and corner.

The room would smell like him then… And what would I do after he left?

God, what was I even thinking? Head swimming, I crawled to the edge of the bed and breathed shakily.

It felt surreal, climbing out of the bed and moving to the vanity . I stared at myself in the mirror as I grabbed the makeup bag I kept with me all the time. Wide eyes and parted lips, creamy gold skin turning lily white because of how the blood had just drained after that phone call.

I looked petrified .

Jungkook… I thought numbly. Jungkook’s waiting downstairs and I’m going to see him.

What is he thinking.... What is he feeling... why is he even here?

You’re not responsible for his emotions, Taehyung’s soothing voice in my head helped a bit but not a whole lot. What about my emotions, I though desperately, grabbing the tube of gloss and slowly uncapping it. I ran the end of it over my lips and felt my fingers tremble because I didn’t know why I felt this need …to look beautiful.

I didn’t need to, I though miserably. Everyone knew omegas were beautiful. Beta supermodels were beautiful yes but they couldn’t hold a candle to me, at least for someone like Jungkook. He was an alpha, his brain was built to find me attractive. I had evolutionary genetics on my side, which mean that if I ever actually wanted to seduce Jungkook , he wouldn’t really stand a chance .

But I didn’t want that.

I had had enough of that. Enough of seeing handsome, rich alphas being reluctantly attracted to me. They made it obvious too. Most of the hate mail I got stemmed from angry wives or girlfriends accusing me of seducing their men , even though I’d never so much as laid my eyes on them. It was so unfair.

I didn’t enjoy watching them lose their minds at the sight and scent of me, because i knew that deep down, they thought that all omegas were scum.

Manipulative, sex driven , greedy and selfish . Those were the labels I got plastered with , on the media and on the streets.

And Jungkook wasn’t different, I reminded myself firmly, pulling away from the mirror and grabbing the loose powder and dusting down some of it on the apple of my cheeks and down the length of my nose.

He didn’t think any different than the others. Jungkook’s views on omegas were just as archaic and bigoted as everyone else’s .

He just didn’t act on them .

Sighing, I dropped the lipgloss back in the back and brushed my hair off my face. On a whim , I pulled off the hair tie holding the thick strands together, letting the wavy tresses fall over my shoulder. I hadn’t cut my hair in a long time and it felt to my hips now. My stylist was adamant that it added to my aesthetic.

A primal siren, she had said staring at me in awe, like something eternal and beautifully dangerous. We’re lucky you seem incapable of hate, Heejin ...because I think you could bring grown men to their knees with that body and that face.

I felt nauseous at the thought of it.

Walking to the elevator felt like walking the plank and I had stop a couple of times, just to breathe deeply. I had to be smart about this. I was in therapy. Taehyung had taught me how to handle situations like this and while my heart was pounding too hard and my brain was too scrambled to use any of his therapy techniques, I still had some of my cognitive abilities intact.

He came here, i thought desperately.

He came looking for you and that means he isn’t nervous or worried or overthinking this because he doesn’t have feelings for you. If you want to come out of this unscathed, you need to get your head on straight. You need to pretend that you didn’t just have a minor mental breakdown at the thought of him dating someone else.

I took a deep breath, exhaling sharply before stepping into the elevator. The ride down to the lobby was barely a few seconds and when I stepped out, I realized the place was way too crowded for such an exclusive Hotel. And then I remembered that people were here for the Art Festival. I glanced at the reception desk, covertly, noting a conspicuous lack of Jeon Jungkook. The lady behind the desk held her hand up when she spotted me .

“Ms. Kim? Mr. Jeon just went to get you a drink...He’s over by the breakfast counter over there.” She pointed out the dining space where people were walking about getting breakfast and I swallowed, feeling hot and cold as I cautiously stepped into the crowd, trying to find a that familiar head of thick dark hair.

I felt the apprehension build as I tugged on my bottom lip between my teeth, trying to reign in the chaos in my mind but it was impossible, everything too loud and too messy. I looked around and then, it hit me.

His scent.

I felt my lips part in surprise, and it felt like someone had turned the volume down , noises fading into a dull hum at the back of my mind as I stared at him. He hadn’t spotted me yet and I took a second to just....look.

He looked incredible.

There was really no other word for it. Incredibly handsome, Incredibly beautiful and so incredibly perfect as the late morning sun lit up the room, picking out the shine on his white silk shirt. I breathed in deep, my mindeasily picking out the musky pine scent of him and I stepped closer, moving straight towards him and I caught the exact moment my scent his senses.

He jerked a bit, nostrils flaring and eyes going wide before he turned, lips parted and gaze a bit unfocused as he looked around.

When he caught sight of me, he just blinked.

I smiled weakly, body going limp with relief because.... because this was Jungkook. Not some monster I had to run from. This was Jungkook....even at his worst he had been better than some of the other people I’d met in life.

I looked down at the drink in his hand and smiled a bit as he made his way over.

“ This isn’t the same as buying me a coffee.” I said shakily as he finally stepped upto me.

His eyes danced with warmth.

“What makes you think I can afford one? Besides, aren’t you the hotshot artist? Shouldn’t you be the one buying me stuff?” He said softly.

“Just saw you on the front cover of a magazine. We both know you’re far from destitute..” Even through the smile, I felt the tug of emotion as I stared at him, felt the difference in him like night and day, the light and joy and ...contentment that seemed to radiate off him .

He smiled and held the drink out to me gently.

“ Heejin-ah.” He whispered.

And somehow it was the sound of his voice, wrapping around the syllables of my name that finally did it.

I felt the tears brim over, my lips parting in choked laughter as I stepped close and wrapped both my arms around him, burying my face in his neck and breathing him in. I felt him hold me, infinitely gentle and I exhaled sharply.

“I didn’t miss you, at all.” I said shakily. He laughed lightly.

“I missed you , too.” He stroked the back of my head gently and I sighed, fingers curling on the silk of his shirt. The fabric felt like liquid in my fingers and I played with it for a second, intensely aware that people were starting to stare. That this embrace had gone on for longer than social norms dictated but I couldn’t bring myself to care, letting my chin rest against his shoulder blades.

And it was almost frightening.....how easy it was to pretend we weren’t broken at all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“She was so small when I last held her... I can’t believe she’s running around.” I said, awed, listening to Jungkook tell me about how Mina liked to climb everywhere. He laughed, shaking his head.

"She’s growing bigger everyday. I can barely keep up.” Jungkook smiled, holding a hand out for me to step over the wooden slats that lined the tiny archway that led to the door to his building. I hesitated before lightly gripping his hand in mine, the gesture somehow feeling more intimate that it was.

“You’re not staying at the Firenze?” I asked curiously, resisting the urge to reach for his hand again when he let go.

it was such a ridiculous thing but I’d never held hands with him. And It felt ridiculously nice, to slot my fingers with his, feel them in between mine. His palm against mine, calloused but somehow so comforting.

I’d forgotten how warm he was.

Don’t. Don’t fall down this rabbit hole again, Heejin. We talked about this. He doesn’t think of you that way. He doesn’t. And neither should you. its unfair to him. He doesn’t deserve that.

“No... As you can see my apartment is barely ten minutes away and Soeun has her exams so its easier for her to watch over Mina here at the apartment.

“Soeun?” I asked curiously.

“Park Soeun? She’s a University student who lives with me. She’s doing a correspondence course in fashion . So she’s home all the time and she helps out with Mina. And she speaks Italian so that’s a huge plus... ” He smiled. “ you’ll like her. She’s a good kid.”

Don’t make that face. Don’t fucking make that face, Heejin.

I struggled to keep my face straight , like I wasn’t feeling the weight of a dozen bricks at the base of my stomach.

“A roommate...then..?” I asked quietly and he shrugged.

“Something like that. But mostly she helps take care of Mina when I’m out on an assignment.” He smiled and led me past two flight of stairs up to the studio apartment.

I wrapped my arms around myself as he stopped in front of a wrought iron grill, gripping one end and sliding it open with ease. And then he rang the small bell n the side. I shuffled back and forth on my foot, heart racing.

The door opened and I blinked because of how young the girl who opened the door was. A second later she was beaming, moving forward and wrapping both her arms around me.

“Unnie!” She squealed, hugging me so close that I almost choked. Completely thrown I could only gape at Jungkook who was laughing .

“Oh, I forgot to mention..she’s a bit of a fan. “ He teased lightly and I smiled awkwardly, watching as she pulled back to stare at me, her gaze trained on my face unblinkingly.

“Whoa...” She reached out and lightly touched my cheek with her forefinger making me jump. She flinched as well, flushing red.

“Shit..sorry...I just... I’ve never... I’ve never met an omega before.” She said softly. “ You’re absolutely breathtaking.”

I felt my heart pound, steeping back instinctively, an overwhelming urge to hide , anxiety pooling in my stomach as she continued to stare at me. I hated the attention and I wrapped my arms around myself.

“Soeun, enough. Don’t make it weird.” Jungkook said sternly, voice hard and the girl immediately flushed, bowing apologetically.

“Sorry...I.. sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable ... You’re pretty.” She said again before turning to Jungkook.

“I have to get some stuff for my exhibit, Jungkook oppa... Mina’s asleep. i’ll be staying over at Vince’s place for the night though. Is that okay?”

“Sure..have fun.” Jungkook smiled, “ Vince is her boyfriend.” He explained and Soeun nodded happily.

“Italian men are absolutely amazing unnie...you should try some.” She winked and I laughed despite myself.

“I just might...” I said with a grin, watching as she walked over to slip on a pair of sneakers from the small shoe closet near the door. She waved enthusiastically all but bouncing away and I blinked at him , shaking my head.

“I feel a hundred years old right now.” I said softly, still stunned by the girl’s exorbitant energy. Jungkook laughed at that

“She definitely has that effect on people... Come on, I’ll show you around.” He held his hand out and I smiled , taking his fingers mine and letting him tug me further into the studio apartment.

I looked around, taking in the full blown prints of Mina and Jungkook , caught in adorable poses in front of different tourist spots in Florence. I saw how much she looked like Jungkook now, and how openly affectionate they looked together, the love evident even in the still photos.

And then my eyes fell on a familiar painting , my stomach lurching.

“You... “ i turned to him in a rush and he was staring at me with a small smile.

“I had to bring that. It pretty much saved me, that painting.” He said casually, stepping close and running his fingers all over the print.

“When you told me this is how Sooah saw me...” He traced the picture carefully before glancing at me,” it made me realize that Sooah didn’t just want a baby.....she wanted a baby with me. She saw me as a father. As someone who could raise and nurture a tiny human and that... that’s amazing isn’t it?” He sighed, staring at me.

He looked beautiful, I thought with an ache deep inside me. The most beautiful man I’d ever seen in my life and it seemed almost too good to be true. That he was here, at reach. So close. I wondered if this was it. This had to be a sign. A sign that we’d come full circle. That it was over. That we could finally break free from all that we’d been through, and look back at Jungkook’s past with fondness instead of pain.

And perhaps, just perhaps I could reach out and touch him with something more than just the love you have for a friend. . Perhaps I could reach out and touch him, without feeling guilt and foreboding.

I exhaled shakily stepping up and running my fingers over the canvas. It was nothing fancy... Just a painting a painting of Jungkook holding Mina up by her waist, high over his head, staring up into her face with all the love and adoration in the world, The child in the painting doesn’t look exactly like Mina, of course, but I’d had no idea , seeing as Sooah had commissioned the painting when she was pregnant. But Jungkook.... Jungkook looked exactly like he did now : Happy and at peace.

“You’re alright, then?” I asked quietly , a wealth of meaning behind the words and he smiled , nodding gently.

“I’m fine…” He whispered , “ And I’m so glad I can tell you that, like this. Thank you for coming , Heejin-ah . I know you owe me nothing but.. I wanted to show you that… it wasn’t all bad you know. What we went through… Something good did come out of it.” He whispered.

I choked out a sob.

“I lied.” I whispered. “ I did miss you. Even when I knew I shouldn’t.”

Jungkook’s gaze softened.

“I have a lot to be sorry for. But I don’t want to remind you of those things. I just want you to know that… I understand what you went through…those six months. I understand that it was difficult and painful and i… I’m grateful that you didn’t give up on me. And I’m grateful that you stayed in my life. Because I know I didn’t deserve that.”

“You deserve to be loved Jungkook.” I said quietly. “ Its not wrong to move on. You deserve to… find happiness again.”

He stared at me, his gaze soft and gentle.

“I can almost believe it, when you say it that way.” He laughed. “ And… you know… I’m not sure if its love. But there’s someone I’ve been…. Well, I can sort of see myself with her. .” He grinned a little, smile boyish as he ran his fingers through his hair. He glanced at me and I felt my heart skip a beat.

Wait… was he going to?....

“ I met her at Taehyung’s practice, a year ago. Her name is Lee Hyorin.” Jungkook looked at me, doe eyes shining with excitement.

And just like that the world ended.

Or so it felt.

It was like being dipped in icy cold water, the shock of it rendering me speechless, lips parted and breath catching in lungs.

Blood rushed through my ears, so fast that I felt lightheaded, my legs nearly giving out. White noise filled my skull, pain lancing sharp through my heart like a thousand paper cuts, and I couldn’t really breathe. It took a few seconds…. For my heart to catch up with what my mind had just processed. And when it finally did, the pain was so excruciating, I had to clench my fists, nails digging into the flesh of my palm to ground myself.

“She’s an alpha…and she lost her husband around the same time Sooah passed..” Jungkook gave me a soft smile. “ She’s actually a curator at one of the museums here. She’s the one who made all the arrangements for me to move here to Florence. ”

“Wow… That’s…” devastating,. “ That’s good news. Jungkook.. I.. How long…” My voice cracked, and I had to swallow. “ How long have you guys been dating?”

“About three months now. We’re taking it very slow, because we aren’t really ready. She has a son too. He’s three years old. Mina loves him so that’s a plus.” He laughed.

My lungs constricted, breathing difficult and my head swam because ….. what. Realization set in so quickly, I was left reeling. I was in love with this bastard, I thought miserably. So in love with him that it felt like he was shredding my heart into ribbons. Every word of his mouth felt like a sharp deep stab, straight through the center of my heart and the pulsing, beating organ was on the verge of giving out.

“She’s going to be there at the dinner tonight at the Festival. She’s one of the organizers by the way. She’s kind of the reason I got in, I think.” He laughed , looking abashed and what a load of bull that was. Jungkook was successful and well known. Superbly talented at his chosen field. She was lucky to have him.

How can she have him when I’m the one who fixed him? How is that fucking fair?

“She really understands the things I’ve been going through, the past few months and because we both still attend therapy with Taehyung, we’re able to talk about a lot of stuff. Stuff I can’t share with others…” Jungkook was saying and I tuned him out, not wanting to hear another word.

I swallowed, choking on bile. I could feel sweat gathering on my scalp, my skin clammy and damp , the air between us shifting into something poisonous and filled with so much dismay, it was a miracle he hadn’t picked up on it.

Couldn’t he sense how distressed I was? Couldn’t he see how his words were hurting? Couldn’t he fucking see that I couldn’t live without him? Why on earth couldn’t he see me the way he apparently saw every other woman on the damn planet…..

Because he’s a shitty Alpha, I thought miserably, willing myself not to burst into tears. He was a shitty excuse for an alpha back then and he’s the same now.

A low, distressed cry began somewhere behind him and he jumped.

“Oh, shit she’s up… come on, Heejin.” He said with a bright smile, turning around and rushing down a small hallway and I willed myself to breathe in deeply, reminding myself that this wasn’t the end of the world. I could get through this. Besides, it was Mina.

Beautiful, perfect Mina who had been there for me. She would see me and she would give me that sweet gummy smile of hers, does eyes twinkling and I would get through this. Because her smile was what was important. Her smile and her joy and her happiness.

The sobbing had slowed down to small hiccups and I stepped past the threshold cautiously, watching as Jungkook bent over the large crib, carefully lifting her out and into his arms. She looked breathtaking, an absolutely gorgeous little girl . I stared, mesmerized as I stepped closer. My arms ached, and my chest tightened. Lips wobbling, I exhaled sharply, moving to reach for her.

She turned to glance at me and just as my fingers brushed her cheek, she recoiled.

Hard.

A loud wail tore through her tiny body and I felt my eyes go wide. Her casual little cry had turned into a sobbing , loud wail and I could smell the distress in her , the fear and distrust as she curled away from me. Jungkook looked stunned as well, instinctively drawing her close and embracing her, moving away from me because….

Because I was the reason, she was distressed.

My skin went ice cold at the revelation and I stumbled back, stunned.

“I… I’m sorry.” I choked out, confused and disoriented. Jungkook looked stricken, gently rocking her back and forth and she clung to him, gripping his shirt and I bit my lips, moving further back and I glanced at him, my heart shattering.

“She’s …She’s still sleepy… She doesn’t do well with strangers…” He said softly, looking upset, “ Maybe you could…wait outside…”

Stranger…. Was that what I was?

“I… I’ll go. I’ll just go.” I turned on my heel, rushing out of the door and struggling to breathe in air, my heart clenching so hard I was sure I was going to pass out. I felt my knees give out when I reached the couch, dropping down and drawing my knees up , wrapping my arms around my legs . I didn’t know how long I sat there, fighting sobs and choking on air…and when I finally came to myself, the sobs from the room had died out.

“She’s fallen asleep again.” Jungkook’s voice cut through the silence and I couldn’t bring myself to look up. I felt him move closer, felt his scent hit me as he stepped right up to me, kneeling on the floor in front of me.

I looked up at him, lips wobbling as I took in his handsome face. A face that was so deeply carved into my heart and my soul, I couldn’t imagine living without it. Without him. The tears came then, helpless and endless and so painful.

He pressed in closer, cupping my face in his palms, thumb brushing the tears that spilled over so relentlessly.

“Heejin…” He whispered and I let my fingers curl around his wrist as his thumb kept brushing the curve of my cheeks. I took a deep , shaky breath .

“She doesn’t remember me…. “ I whispered, “ She doesn’t recognize me at all…She hates me……” I choked out , despair filling every last crevice of my insides, gut twisting as I remembered how Mina had twisted away from me, how her scent had soured in distress at the sight of me, at the touch of my fingers.

And I wondered if it was different with this other woman..Hyorin, wasn’t it? Did Mina climb into her arms with ease? Did she curl into her chest and sleep? The way she used to with me, when she was a month old and missing the warmth of a mother.. ….

All those nights spent in that tiny nursery, lying on the cold unforgiving floor, watching the rise and fall of Mina’s chest through the dark room…telling myself it was worth it… it was worth being touched against my will, worth being treated like filth by a man driven mad with grief and anger….all because of this baby…this tiny little baby who had needed me….

And now…she didn’t even know who I was…..worse…she was repulsed by the very sight of me… I couldn’t cope.

“Look at me…” Jungkook rasped, voice raw and cracking. “she doesn’t hate you, Heejin… she just … you feel new to her… different…”

I shook my head, unable to think about anything beyond the sheer devastation that filled me, the way his daughter had pulled away and run, had refused to come anywhere near me. I realized with lancing pain that I’d wanted to see her, way more than I’d wanted to see Jungkook .

Because she was the reason I’d hung on for so long in that marriage which had been the biggest fucking mistake of my life…. the only reason I’d stuck around . Mina …Having her in my arms, her scent against my face, that had been the only genuine happiness I’d experienced in a marriage filled with sheer , unending misery.

“I… she… Why doesn’t she remember? “ I breathed, sagging into his arms, tears soaking his shoulders and his palm ran up and down my back.

“Because she was a baby. Heejin…. I left when she was a baby…”

“Why did you?” I snapped. “ Did it hurt you so much? The thought of living under the same sky as me ? Why you did you go?” I demanded.

Jungkook pulled back, hands coming up to grip my shoulder, holding me at arms length.

“Look at me.” He whispered. “ I had to … You know I had to go….I was hurting you. I was… I was draining you of life. Destroying you… “

Jungkook’s words reminded me of who he was. Of who I was… Of who I was to him.

I choked out, sobbing.

“I hate you. You treated me like scum. Like a crutch….. Like some sort of tool to get better and you just left… you…”

You found someone better. You broke me down and now you’ve gone and found someone better….because I was never good enough for you… I was never someone you could love….

“I had to let you go. I had to end that relationship because it was tainted with so much grief and anger and selfishness and greed. I knew that anything I did afterwards would be tainted by my actions… I… I had to make amends, Heejin. And do you think for a second, that it wasn’t the hardest thing I ever did? That walking out on you wasn’t one of the most devastating things I’ve ever experienced? But I did it for us… for this…”

I stared at him.

“And what is this?” I asked brokenly.

“This is me, being able to touch you like this.” Jungkook pressed a palm to my cheek, “ And not feeling guilt or sadness or grief or loss. I did it so we could have this…this… This thing where I can look at you and hold you and see that you’re healing. That you’re doing better… That you’re living the life you want…. That you’re happy. This is me standing here , in front of you and smiling because I’m happy too. Happy that you’re here. ” He exhaled, “ I’m happy that despite all the hurt we’ve been through for and because of each other, I can look at you now and tell you, honestly, that I’m glad to see you.”

What a joke.. What a fucking joke.

I smiled shakily.

“Well… “ I said softly, my stomach churning because I was done. Done with him and mostly with myself. “ Isn’t that absolutely wonderful.”

His gaze softened and he smiled.

“I want us to be friends, Heejinah. Even though we don’t see or talk to each other, I think of you often. And when Mina’s old enough to understand , I’ll tell her all about you… I want you in our lives. You’re a friend. ”

I stared at him , feeling the words echo in my skull . It left an acrid taste on my senses, the way he put me into this neat little box, friend. So ….insignificant. Everyone had hundreds of friends. There was nothing even remotely special about being someone’s friend.

Friend just meant replaceable and forgettable. And just like Mina didn’t remember me…. Someday Jungkook wouldn’t either. The knowledge filled my veins spreading all over my body and leaving a fierce, heavy ache in my chest.

It was my fault, I thought despondently. My fault because I had been an idiot.

Jungkook was the sane one here , I thought miserably. These nine months, while I’d been dwelling on him and worrying for him…he had done the healthy thing , by moving on with someone he could actually envision a future with….

What had I done, these past nine months? Dreamt up a fantasy world where somehow we found our way back to each other and built a life together… It seemed so foolish now, in the light of Jungkook’s words and his confession….

Jungkook had done all of this, not for me…but for himself. For his daughter whom he loved and for his wife , whose memory he wanted to honor. And perhaps it was my own delusion that made me think that I’d played some stellar role in his healing…. Maybe if I hadn’t been there, he would have gotten better just the same…. Maybe I hadn’t been a tool …as much as a hindrance …to his healing.

I shook my head, bitterness coating my tongue.

“I should get going.” I whispered , voice shaking.

This is it, I told myself. This is the last time you look at him with that heaviness in your heart. You deserve better. You deserve… a lot of things. And just because people don’t give it to you doesn’t mean you have to settle for less……

“So soon? Hyorin will be back in a couple of hours… I could show you some of my work, and we could get lunch ….”

I shook my head quickly. I didn’t want to meet her in his home. Didn’t want to see him being domestic and affectionate and …normal with her when all I’d ever seen was Jungkook in his anger and grief, either yelling abuses or gripping me with a lust that was tainted with violence and rage. I stared at his hands, the ones I’d liked holding….

How did I forget? That those were the same hands that had held me down and done things that should, rightfully have landed him in prison?

I shook my head, to clear the images out of my head. Looking at him now, Jungkook looked eager, happy and healed. And I realized that he’d just pushed all of his own actions out of his mind. Forgotten all about it. And that was fair. He probably didn’t even remember any of it. He had been drunk out of his mind, lost in his head and surely, forgetting must’ve been easy… A relief.

I didn’t begrudge him that.

But…

I hadn’t been drunk. I’d been stone cold sober under him on that bed and so, maybe forgetting didn’t come that easily for me. And I was glad that Jungkook could move on and be happy but….

But I couldn’t stay here and pretend that it was the same for me. I wasn’t happy or healed, I thought miserably. And maybe , maybe the sight of him moving on was a sign that I had to stop thinking that healing meant going back to him and his daughter.

“Heejin… What’s wrong? Is it because of Mina.. she’s just not used to…” He began but I quickly pressed a palm to his chest, smiling.

“Strangers.” I said softly. “ I know. That’s not it… You know I have to introduce my exhibit at dinner tonight. I don’t know what the itinerary is or what I’m supposed to say…. None of it.. I need to meet my agent and prep myself a bit. Its alright…I’ll see you tonight.” I said softly.

“I’m sorry… I can’t walk you back because Mina-“

“Of course. Don’t worry about it…. I’ll just…”

The doorbell rang, startling me.

“Jungkook!” A strong voice called out and I went still.

“Hyorin?” Jungkook’s face lit up and I felt my stomach churn. God, the universe really was against me wasn’t it? Sighing in defeat, I wrapped my arms around myself, sitting back down on the couch and waiting.

Behind me , I could hear hushed whispers, soft laughter and shuffling feet. My mouth went dry.

“Ms. Kim….”

I turned around, greeted by the sight of a tall, strapping young woman, pretty by any standards. She was dressed in a pant suit , her hair long and straight, hitting the top of her shoulders. She looked smart… Important.

“Ms. Lee… Its nice to meet you.”

She held her hand out and I shook it gently. Jungkook smiled at her fondly and his phone rang from somewhere inside the studio.

“Hang on that’s probably Soeun…” He smiled at me and moved away and I watched him leave before shifting my gaze to Hyorin, who was staring down at me with a small smile.

“Are you here in Italy by yourself? Or with one of your many …uh… patrons ?” She smirked.

I blinked.

“Patrons?” I asked softly. “ Excuse me?”

“Jungkook and I’ve been following all the stories about you, back in Korea. You get around quite a lot… don’t you? Every alpha within a 100 mile radius wants a piece of the lovely Kim Heejin… And honestly, could anyone blame them? You look exquisite.”

I stared at her, stunned. The implication was so obvious that I would be an idiot not to realize what she was hinting at. So this was the woman , Jungkook chose? Yet another prejudiced bigot?

I laughed a bit, feeling my heart sink.

“I’m not seeing anyone. If that’s what you’re asking.” I said quietly.

Hyorin smirked at that.

“Of course you aren’t… We all know that isn’t really something your kind does… monogamy, right?”

“Do you have a problem with me Hyorin ssi?” I asked roughly and she laughed.

“Oh come on.. we’re all adults, here. And Heejin, you agreed to be a part of this festival, knowing full well, that’s what we think . Its because deep down you know I’m right….. Omegas can’t stay with one alpha. They need sex to survive and they are usually open to it with anyone. Not that I’m blaming you or judging you for it. It’s just how you’re built.”

I smiled wide, ignoring the urge to claw at her face. .

“Well, you’ve definitely got me all figured out haven’t you? “ I shook my head, glancing at Jungkook who was making his way over.

“What are you talking about?” He asked curiously and I smiled, glancing at her.

“ Hyorin ssi was just telling me how my sub gender makes it impossible for me to not go around whoring with every alpha I see…….” I glanced at him and Jungkook straightened, looking stunned, “ Well, I hope you two enjoy your beautiful monogamous relationship with each other something an omega like me can only fantasize about…. Right Jungkook?” I smiled and he looked completely lost.

“Wait…What? Hyorin what did you say?” He demanded and she was glaring at me now.

“Please don’t take it personally, I was only talking about omegas in general. “ Hyorin frowned, before bowing and moving away to stalk off in the direction of the bedrooms and I watched her, feeling dirty and terrible.

“Heejin, ignore her.. she’s just old fashioned and-“

“Is that what you’re going to call it?” I snapped and Jungkook froze.

“Heejin…”

I shook my head in disbelief.

“I’m not upset about what she said. I’m upset that she feels comfortable enough, spouting that bullshit to me , in your house. Makes me wonder what else she’s told you about omegas, and how much of it you probably agreed with.”

Jungkook stared at me , lips parted.

“I… I don’t feel that way. You know that.” He said stiltedly.

“Do I? All I know is that she knows about me, about who I am and apparently, she can call me a slut…. In front of you, without worrying about it upsetting you. And that tells me you’re as much of a bigot as she is.”

“Heejin… You know that’s not it. We all grow up being fed certain things and –“

“But you did grow up right?” I snapped. “ you grew up and you can think and act for yourself. As can she. Once you’re an adult, you don’t have a single fucking excuse for being racist or homophobic or bigoted because being an adult means having the ability to unlearn the toxic things you’ve been taught and relearn how to be a decent fucking human.”

I shook my head as he stared at me.

“And you know what…please just… just don’t call me or consider me as a friend.” I laughed. “ Because I don’t think I can consider you one. Not anymore. You can’t…...You can’t just love certain parts of me and be disgusted by others you know? I don’t need a friend who can care about me and love me and help me as long as he can forget that I’m an omega….. I need a friend who can love every jagged, broken , part of me. Who can call out people who talk bullshit at me , who can look someone in the eye and tell them they’re wrong when they’re calling me names and that’s not who you are……. You’re not it.” I snapped.

Jungkook looked stricken, reaching out to hold me and I stepped away, annoyed.

“I’m sorry, Heejin, you’re right … I’ll talk to her… I’ll…” He began but I shook my head.

“Whatever. Just don’t call me a friend. We can’t be friends. Let’s just be what we always were , yeah? A big fucking mistake that never should have happened.”

I stormed out of the door, shaking.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What do you mean, there are no flights available for today?” I snapped. “Tell them money isn’t an issue. I need to get out of this place right now.”

Minho looked incredibly stricken, hair messy from how often he’d run his fingers through.

“ We just arrived seven hours ago, Hee. Of course there’s no flight yet…. We can stay another day…attend the dinner and-“

“No.” I snapped. “ Absolutely not. I’m not here because they find my art good or worth putting up. I’m here because they know the alphas around here will want to pay more , to pour in more cash for a chance with me.” I held the embossed booklet up, waving it in his face.

“Heejin…” He protested but I shook my head.

“ Did you see the cost to get into my pane ?. Extra ….for alphas? And yet…apparently they had to pre book it and its filled? You think any of the lecherous bastards who paid money to see me , gives a shit about my art? And apparently, there’s a meet and greet, for alphas only if they purchase seven or more paintings worth over 10000 Euros. Do you think, that’s what I’m worth?”

Minho looked down at his shoes, ashamed.

“I .. I’m sorry, Hee. You’re right. Its offensive . And an insult to your art and talent. We shouldn’t have come here, you’re right. And I regret it… But just… give me a few hours, yeah? I’ll find a way to get us out of here….”

I exhaled sharply, exhaustion weighing heavy on my head. I felt like I’d taken a pounding, physically and mentally and I wondered how a day that had started so well, could go so wrong, so fast…

Shaking my head, I trudged wearily to the elevator, knocking on the buttons before sagging against the wall, letting my eyes flutter shut.

Jungkook was dating.

Jungkook was dating. His girlfriend thought I was a slut and here I was about to prove her right.

I wanted to slit someone’s throat.

Sighing, I watched the door slide open, grabbing my keys out of my bag, and moving to the suite. I opened the door before making a beeline for the bed. I collapsed on the soft duvet, groaning. I was torn between wanting to call Taehyung to yell at him about Jungkook and calling Minho to demand an update on the flights.

I was spared the dilemma when the phone in the room rang. Groaning, I moved to swat at the phone, turning on the speaker.

“Ms. Kim? There’s a Mr. Jeon here to see you?”

I blinked, feeling disbelief swell inside me. Did he not get the hint?

Annoyed, I sat up.

“Send him up.” I said, in no mood to go all the way down to see him.

“Up?” She sounded surprised, “ To your room?”

“Yes. To my room. Is that a fucking problem?” I growled, annoyed.

“Not at all Ms. Kim. He’ll be right up.”

I got out of bed, shrugging off my jacket and taking off my dress as well. It was a little damp because I’d sweated through the fabric. I grabbed one of my oversized t shirts , slipping it on and moving to open the door before retreating back to the inner room. Feeling annoyed, I walked up to the vanity and grabbed the hair brush, running the bristles through my locks. I heard his footsteps outside and stiffened.

“If you’re here to defend your shitty girlfriend, you can just leave Jungkook. I swear to God, I’ve had enough of this.” I shouted. He didn’t reply and my hackles rose.

“Listen, I’m sorry if I said something harsh-“ I froze when I reached the doorway, staring at the man in front of me. He had a large , almost humongous bouquet of wild orchids and roses in his hand and I stared at his face.

This was definitely not Jungkook.

“Umm… hi.” The man bowed awkwardly, his gaze going straight to my legs, where my t shirt ended, just a couple of inches past my waist. I felt the blood rush to my face.

“Who are you…Get out !!!” I shouted, horrified, diving for my jacket and holding it up against my bare thighs. The man held both his hands up, eyes wide..

“I’m sorry… I… you said I could come up to your room….” He protested and I scowled, confused.

“What? “ I stared, stunned… “ Who…what?”

“I’m Wonwoo. Jeon Wonwoo. I’m uh….one of the sponsors for this festival. And a fan. Huge fan.” He was staring at me beseechingly and I felt my head begin to throb.

The sheer relentlessness of this day…..

“I… Mr. Jeon…” So weird, God, “ There’s been a misunderstanding. I’m not…. I thought you were someone else.”

“Jungkook yes…your ex husband, right? You were married to him for six months after he lost his wife….. He’s also one of the artists exhibiting their work here.” He nodded quickly, running long fingers through thick glossy hair, lips parting in a hesitant smile and I stared at him.

“How do you know all that? ” I demanded, heart pounding. He immediately held his hands up again.

“I’m sorry… I sound like a stalker, shit. But Trust me I’m not. I just am a huge fan.. I looked up some stuff about you….before.” He shuffled a bit awkwardly, finally looking up at me.

I tried to catch his scent. No scent to speak of. A beta then. Relaxing just a bit, I swallowed. At least I wasn’t in any immediate danger. But still, I had no intention of letting him see me in nothing but a t shirt. Embarrassed, I gripped the jacket tighter.

“Why are you here?” I demanded angrily, taking in his appearance. He didn’t look like a hoodlum or someone dangerous. He was good looking, dressed in a white t shirt and black Jacket over plain black slacks. His shoes looked expensive and I didn’t miss the shiny Rolex on his wrist either,.

“Well, for one thing I own the Hotel.” He chuckled and that made my stomach turn. “And also like I said, I’m one of the main sponsors for the Festival itself.”

“Right.” I was too disoriented to process this, head throbbing. “Of course. Is there a reason why you wanted to see me?”

“I was downstairs…just now… I couldn’t help but overhear you with your agent. You wanted to leave as soon as possible. To pull out of the event and I’m just here to try and change your mind, Ms. Kim.” He smiled earnestly and I realized he was really quite young.

I sighed.

“Could you… Could you wait outside? I want to put some clothes on before we talk any further.” I said tiredly and he bowed quickly.

“Uh… These…I’ll just leave these here.” He placed the large bunch of flowers on the table before quickly leaving the room and I swore, racing to the suitcase in the corner. I quickly grabbed a pair of jeans, slipping them on hastily and zipping myself up before glancing at the mirror again. This would have to do.

I moved to the door and opened it, finding him right there, looking lost.

“I… come in, please.” I said hesitantly and he bowed again, moving in and waiting for me to close the door and take a seat on the couch, before sinking into an arm chair across from me.

“Did you see the itinerary? It doesn’t get more sexualized than this.” I waved the booklet and he flushed.

“I understand you’re upset about … certain things. I’m sorry that you feel objectified , in the festival. It wasn’t the intention I had when I first told Hyorin and the others that I wanted them to invite you. But , I’ve been busy the past month, and I didn’t go over the complete agenda. If I did, I definitely would have made sure that you were treated with just as much respect as the others. Unfortunately, there’s not much I can do now, but I’ve had a word with all of the panelists and also the hosts. We won’t entertain any question or comments of a sexual nature and if anyone tries to insinuate anything , I’ll have them removed from the panel myself. “ He said firmly.

“I’m only here because you told me you would exhibit my mother’s works too.” I said sharply and he bowed.

“ Your mother’s works are just as exquisite and I’ve arranged for them to be displayed right at the center of the arena, with a running slide show of her childhood , her art technique and the great love she had for her daughter.” He said firmly.

I could only stare. He sounded incredibly sincere and there was no mistaking the earnestness in his tone.

“I’m….” I bit my lips, “ Listen, Mr. Jeon, I’m flattered but honestly, I never wanted to be here. I… there was … something else that made me want to come and well, that turned out to be a huge mistake. To be honest, I’m not sure if I have it in me to suffer through days of people treating me like I’m some kind of sex crazed bimbo.” I shook my head.

“how about this.? You let me be your date for tonight and you let me display your work, today at the dinner itself. I’ll be right by your side. And then, I’ll have my private jet on standby and we can fly back to Korea. You deserve the spotlight, Heejin and I want people to see how good you are at what you do. I don’t care if I lose money over this… As long as you’re comfortable. ”

I gawked at him, stunned.

“Private Jet?” I choked out. “ Okay, now I’m genuinely concerned.”

He laughed.

“I’m a Hotelier, and I have properties all over the world and I like to inspect them personally most of the time. Its more practical to have a private jet than to try and align my schedules with everyone else.” He smiled.

“Right. Convenient.” I shook my head. “ I’m no stranger to excessive wealth, Mr. Jeon and trust me, it’s always left a sour taste in my mouth.”

“I don’t flaunt my wealth, Ms. Kim. These clothes? Got them on the streets of Florence. I drive a Mazda. Wealth has no meaning to me. People do. People like you, who bring beauty into the world with their craft. You’ve made my world beautiful and I just want to repay , in some way.” He smiled, “ Also, You’re very beautiful.” He added and then immediately looked away. “ I’m sorry. That was… dumb . I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry if that made you uncomfortable.”

Endeared against my own wishes, I found myself fighting a small smile.

“Just tonight’s dinner?” I asked quietly.

“Just the dinner party.” He assured me quickly.

“Alright. But I’m not getting into any private Jet. My agent will book me tickets and I’ll find my way back to Korea.”

“As you wish. I’ll pick you up at seven. What color is your dress?” He asked casually and I blinked.

“Uh… Wine red? I guess? Why?”

He grinned, looking boyishly handsome.

“I’ll see you at seven, Ms. Kim.”

He bowed, before pausing by the bouquet. He grabbed a couple of flowers, holding them up for me to see.

“Daffodils and Lilacs.” He grinned, “ To finding something new to love. And to new beginnings.”

Wow.

Subtle.

I shook my head, momentarily forgetting all about Jungkook as I grinned all the way back to the bedroom.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I told you… coming with me will earn you major points.” Wonwoo smirked as he pulled me in by my waist , holding my dress up for me as I stared at the sleek black limousine at the Hotel entrance. I watched as he held my wrist gently, latching a string of sterling silver and red rubies around the delicate curve of it.

“This is too lavish…I don’t want this…Who are you?” I demanded, flushing because of the way the flashes went off in every direction, reporters scrambling when they caught sight of him. He was clearly popular, if the number of photos being clicked were any indication. I regretted everything.

Wonwoo pressed a kiss to my wrists, right near the bracelet and gently placed my palm on the curve of his elbow, leading me over to the car and I watched the chauffeur open the door for us.

“ Someone who can get anyone here fired. Be careful , sweetheart.” I watched in mute horror as he bent low, picking up the hem of my skirt so I wouldn’t trip, while climbing into the limousine. The reporters began whispering excitedly and more flashes went off . My face completely red, I hastened to climb in.

“These people look at you like you’re some kind of King.” I stared out of the tinted windows seeing the sheer multitude of people and Wonwoo chuckled.

“ That’s because I am. At least for tonight. And that’s why I’m the perfect guy to protect you Heejin. They’re all terrified of me.” He winked.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jungkook found me, fifteen minutes into the event. I hung by the large archway, near an alcove, sipping champagne and nibbling on some hors d’oeuvre as people threw glances at me. I noticed the conspicuous lack of a date on his arm and straightened, sighing and bracing myself for more unpleasantness as he picked his way through the crowd, eyes trained on me.

“Can we talk?” He said, the minute he was at hearing distance and I exhaled.

“No.” I said casually and he made a noise of impatience.

“Fucking, hell Heejin..just…” He swore again, looking upset. “ Why are you doing this to me? What do you want from me huh?”

I stared at him in disbelief.

“What do I want from you? Oh, fuck off Jungkook. I want nothing from you.” I snapped, turning on my heel, ready to leave but his hand shot out, gripping me right above my elbow, fingers curling in hard.

“Fuck.. listen. I don’t know what she said to you. I .. I’m sorry if she offended you…. Alright? She’s an alpha… I can’t change the way she thinks…”

“I didn’t ask you to. I merely said that if you associate yourself with people who think I’m scum, I won’t let you into my life. Because I respect myself too much for that.” I said firmly.

“She doesn’t think you’re scum, Heejin come on. She just has some misconceptions about certain things.”

“God, Jungkook…just stop. Alright? Stop. Because I’m not asking you do anything. I’m leaving on a flight tomorrow morning and you’ll never see me again. That’s all there is to it.”

He froze at that, fingers curling harder around my arm and it hurt, the skin turning red. Stupid fucker, never knew his own strength.

“Ow, Jungkook let go.” I whispered, and he did, albeit reluctantly.

I rubbed at the bruised skin, furious. I watched as the redness healed over, the pain fading to a throb and then into a pleasant heat and I hated it. Hated that being an omega meant that Jungkook’s rough touch turned to pleasure on my skin.

“What do you mean you’re leaving tomorrow? The Festival is for two weeks.”

I sighed.

“I didn’t come here for the festival. I came here to see you. To see if you were as hung up on me as I was on you…but apparently not.” I snapped.

Jungkook went perfectly still at that.

“What the fuck does that mean?” He said softly and I laughed, shaking my head.

“Wow. You really never even considered it huh? Us? Together.?” It wasn’t funny at all, but I could only laugh. Probably because I’d been so sure.. So certain that there was something there.

He opened his mouth to answer but I felt a warm solidness behind me, an arm wrapping around my waist and a second later, Wonwoo was there pressing up against me.

“Jungkook-ssi… Such a pleasure to meet you.” He held his hand out, and Jungkook frowned, his eyes trained on where wonwoo’s fingers curled around my waist.

“Get your hands off her.” He said shortly and Wonwoo blinked, pulling away from me and stepping back .

“What the-? No. Fuck you.” I snapped, glaring at Jungkook before grabbing Wonwoo’s hand and bringing it back around me. “Don’t you fucking dare take your hands off.” I held my finger up at his face and Wonwoo looked momentarily stunned.

“Really, Heejin? You’re doing this?” Jungkook glared at me. “ We need to talk.”

“So talk.” I snapped. “ Tell me why you think a bigoted bitch is the best you can do in terms of dating. Tell me why she’s the only one who can ‘ understand’ “ I made air quotes, shaking my head, “ You think you and your shitty have monopoly on grief Jungkook? I’ve lost people too. Just because I haven’t screwed other people over because of it, doesn’t make my grief invalid….yeah.”

Ringing silence followed and I regretted everything.

“Fuck.” I whispered, shaking my head. “ I .. Shit. I need to get out of here.”

I pulled away from Wonwoo, moving out of the huge ballroom and Jungkook was right behind me, of course he was.

“Heejin…fuck. Wait. You’re right. I didn’t mean to imply that you didn’t understand me. Of course you did. Its why you stuck around… I know that. And you’re right, she had no business talking about you like that. I’ll have a word with her… But…”

I sped up, wanting to get away but he grabbed me again, tugging me closer out of the hall way and into a darkened alcove and I flinched when he pushed me up against the wall, caging me in, as he pressed in closer.

“What did you mean by that?” He demanded, hands coming up to grip my waist, curling gently and my chest heaved at the touch of him, the enclosed space making his scent turn potent, strong and impossible to avoid. My nostril flared as I breathed him in, familiar and yet so foreign, comforting and yet so fucking dangerous.

“By what?” I snapped and his hands moved up, shaping the curves of my body , thumb grazing the tip of my breast and making me jump, before moving up, gripping my face, gently. He pressed his thumb into my lower lip, rubbing back and forth, face impossibly close and I swallowed, throat sandpaper dry.

“About us? Together….” He breathed and I exhaled shakily.

“You know what I meant.” I whispered. “ If you don’t then I can’t explain it.” I whispered and he swore, head dropping against mine, forehead resting against mine, and lips less than a hairsbreadth away.

We’ve never kissed, I thought suddenly. I licked my lips, turning my face away but his fingers gripped my chin at once, yanking me around to stare at him again.

“Look at me, baby. Tell me… You thought about us together?” He whispered .

I breathed shakily.

“Of course I did…. “ I snapped.

“Then clearly therapy isn’t working for you.” He snapped right back and I flinched.

“What-“

Jungkook pulled away staring at me.

“ Do you even remember all the shit I did to you?” He asked quietly. My stomach dropped.

“Jungkook.”

“I broke your ribs.” He said calmly. I swallowed.

“That.. That was an accident. You didn’t mean to.” I protested. “ And we’re past all that… I don’t… I don’t blame you for it.” I said, which was honest enough.

“And what about the nights I got drunk, Heejin….” He said softly and my skin went cold.

“That… That was just… It was just an outlet for your grief… “ I looked away and he scoffed.

“You’re calling it an outlet for grief. I believe the world calls it rape.”

I felt my entire body shiver at the word , moving up to wrap my arms around his neck, trying to pull him close but he was stiff as a board.

“ Don’t” I snapped. “ Don’t …. Its over…it’s in the past.”

“It was still me. I was the one who did it and I can’t… I can’t pretend it didn’t happen.”

I pulled away to glare at him.

“So , what? You won’t give us a chance because of something I’ve already forgiven you for?”

“Yes.” He said shortly. “ Because you may have forgiven me, but I haven’t forgiven myself.”

I felt my body sag in disbelief.

“Jungkook that’s-“

“You deserve better. You always have. I’m not… I don’t deserve someone like you Heejin. You’re kind and breathtaking and I’m just… a broken mess of a man who’s barely getting by.”

“Oh, right… So broken.” I scoffed. “ You’re on the front page of magazines, you have a successful career and a beautiful girlfriend,,,,forgive me if I’m not breaking my heart over your failures.”

Jungkook exhaled shakily before looking up at me.

“ You wanna know the truth about me, Heejin-ah?” He swallowed. “ I just got out of rehab last week.”

I went still.

“What?” I was sure I’d misheard.

“I… I came here and about a month or so in…I started drinking again…” He glanced away and my heart turned over inside me.

“Jungkook, what?” I demanded, horrified.

“I got drunk and got into an argument with a cop. I hit him. They found out I was a single father and-“ He shook his head, “ I got arrested for disorderly conduct , Public intoxication and assault.”

I stared at him in disbelief, unable to keep the disappointment out of my tone.

“ Arrested for assault... Jungkook why?” I breathed and he flushed.

“I know…. It was stupid.. I… I was stupid.” He said softly. “Soeun isn’t a baby sitter. She’s a social worker. She’s here to keep an eye on me because they want to make sure I’m not a threat to Mina. If I slip up, they’ll deport me back home and then the state will likely take her away from me. Soeun likes me….so she agreed to lie to you ……And as for the girlfriend…” He laughed, shaking his head, “ Hyorin broke up with me after I got arrested. We’re not… We’re not dating. She was only there to get some prints for the panel tomorrow.” He finished shakily.

I stared at him.

“Why?” I demanded . “ Why would you lie to me… Jungkook ….”

“Because I didn’t want you to think I was a screw up.” He said shakily. “ I know I’m supposed to be getting better and I have but… But sometimes I just…I miss…. I miss home. “ He shuddered. “ And you.” He looked up at me. “ I miss you a lot, Heejin and it hurts and I feel like the only way I can forget about you…about us together is if I drink. And I’m sorry. I know I don’t have the right to miss you, not after everything I put you through but I… it’s how I feel. ” He glanced away, trembling a little.

I wrapped my arms around myself, stepping away, feeling myself go cold.

We stayed quiet for a few seconds, both of us staring at the floor lost in our own thoughts. I felt drained. Miserably so. Like someone had sucked all the strength out of me. I realized how badly I had wanted Jungkook to be okay. To heal and be himself again. And I’d spent the last nine months, fully convinced that he was. That he was doing what he loved, bonding with his daughter building a life for himself.

But apparently, he was also spiraling back into addiction as well.

It was like we were back in that apartment, both of us miserable but desperate to be something we clearly were not : Okay.

“Does Taehyung know?” I asked finally and Jungkook hesitated before nodding.

“He was at my court hearing three weeks ago. He’s the reason I haven’t already lost her.” Jungkook whispered.

“What did he say?”

“He thinks I should come back to Korea.” Jungkook said quietly. “ He wants me to start therapy again with him. Every week. “

I nodded.

“Fair enough. And what do you think?”

“I think I will. My probation ends in three days. I’ll… I’ll start making arrangements afterwards. I’ll probably be back in a few weeks time. ”

I stared at him, finally seeing the things I hadn’t noticed this morning. The shadows beneath his eyes, the worry lines on his brow. I wondered if he would have ever told me the truth, if not for this little confrontation between us.

Silence descended again and I bit my lips, a million thoughts running through my head. I felt the pull of his scent through it all, an instinctive urge to reach out and touch and draw him close and I wondered if this was it. That for the rest of our lives we would just be drawn to each other, reluctant and hurt but unable to stay away.

“You’re leaving tomorrow then?” He asked quietly breaking through the fog in my head.

“Well obviously not.” I snapped. “ I’m not leaving you. I’ll tell Minho, we’ll be staying here for a few weeks. Do you actually have a possible job back home? If you don’t I can ask my agent to find one for you….”

Jungkook was staring at me like I’d grown an extra head.

“ What?” I asked roughly.

He swallowed.

“No.. I .. I don’t have a job there.”

“We’ll get you one. And my apartment is big enough so you can stay with me till we find you a place of your own. And I think it’ll actually be good for you, because there’s a Fine Art photographer, pretty well know guy who stays just a few blocks away and e can probably- “

“You haven’t really changed have you?” Jungkook cut me off in the middle of my rambling .

I flushed, looking away.

“What do you mean?”

“Back when we were married… it was just like this.. I’d fuck up and do something awful and you’d just take it all in stride, get ready to help me out of it….”

“I don’t know what you mean…” I said quickly, “ Let’s go back to the party we’ll talk later-“

He grabbed both my arms, pulling me back to face him when I tried to get past him and I yelped, staring up at him in surprise.

“What?” I demanded. “ What is it now?”

“How do you do this thing, Heejin ?” He asked roughly. “ How do you just get ready to clean up every fucking mess I make like it doesn’t hurt you? Like I don’t hurt you?”

“What are you talking about?” I tried to wriggle out of his hold but he tugged me closer.

“How do you just…” He shook his head, “ accept me so unconditionally? Like… Its like no matter what I do, you’re just willing to look past it and I don’t fucking understand Heejin… why do you put up with me, damn it?”

I stared right at him. Caught his gaze and held it, refusing to look away.

“You know why.” I whispered, licking my lips, throat dry, “ And if you don’t…. I’m not going to tell you.”

His eyes widened , lips parting and he exhaled sharply, before letting me go and stepping away.

He looked away, shaking a little and I sighed.

“Let’s just get this night over with, yeah?” I said quietly. “ and then we’ll talk.”

He didn’t reply, merely standing aside and motioning for me to leave first.

I shook my head, moving to grip his arm instead.

“Together.” I said firmly. “ We’ll get this night over with, together.”

Author’s Note : i love these two. i’ve never wanted two people to be together so much.

@taeshuworld .@girlinthemikrokosmos @xius-exos @sugainfireslex @yunkichiee@kpopstudybee @ephyraaaa @peachoney9795 @ggukkieland @veronawrites @blr1004 @tinyhoagiepartylover @btsis7okay @squishyjk @itsdingdong @emmmui @honeeybunneey @yeonkiminnie @just-me-and-myselfs @delicate-snow-flake @kpop-lore @beautifulvirgobutterfly @sumzysworld @btsmylife21 @teresaisla .@melrosaeparker @taestannie @dchimminie @ meraki–life @somewhereinthestates @mawwnsterr @kookiesbreaky @chimchoom

@namjooningelsewhere @itsdingdong @ungodlyjoon @caratarmy131

@ladyartemesia @hardggukk @iliveforjin @loveemariee

@unicornbabylover @dchimminie @nope2214 @landl7xoxo

@mrcleanheichou @kayteekat @wassup-haeyadwae @natgba @nikkiordonez12 @neverthefirstchoice @btsssssfiction

@mylittlestrangeandsweetworld @kookiesxbananamilk @lovra974 @supernoonanyc @kokoandkookie

#bts smut #bts smut fic #bts fics #bts fanfic #friends to lovers bts au #jungkook abo #jungkook smut

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jiminzfilter · 3 years

Text

slow dancing in the night

→ Pairing. Taehyung x reader

→ Genre. established relationship, fluff, slice of life, model!taehyung, model!reader, taehyung missed you a lot, he is starving (his words not mine), gets a bit hot by the last 40 lines, mentions of oral (f) so I guess this counts as mature content, implied smut, making out (kinda), there is a bit of swearing

→ Summary. what could possibly be better than coming home after a long day of work to someone you love and missed a lot ?

→ Word count. 3.2k (!!!)

→ because I wrote this over a year ago when I still didn't know what I was doing with my writing, I had to go through a deep process of editing and re-writing before posting it. This might not be my best work but it's still a fic that I really really like :,)

→ song rec. slow dancing in the dark, Joji// still with you, Jungkook

Fridays have always been exhausting days for both you and your boyfriend, especially on runways weeks. As models, you were put under a lot of pressure.

Pressure to be perfect, to smile but never smile too much, to look good, to not fall on stage.

Falling has to be the most tragic thing that can happen to your carreer as a model, the hungry stares of thousands of photographers and reporters ready to share the latest news to the press.

Yeah, it was exhausting.

This week was no exception... or maybe it was since, this time, you were the only one working until late.

It’s four in the morning and you’re already on your way out - kind of running late, oBviOusLy - quietly wishing your boyfriend a good day.

He is not working today.

That lucky bastard.

He gets to enjoy his free day in bed, lazing around, while you work your ass off all day. He mumbles something that you assume is a sort of goodbye. He is still asleep.

You look at him one last time before leaving the room and smile. He looks so peaceful.

You still remember the day you met, by pure luck even though you both call that fate. That was 5 years ago, when you just debuted your career as a model and were not that comfortable around high heels.

Okay no. Let’s be real.

You hated wearing them because you couldn’t walk in heels higher than 5 cm.

It’s still a wonder how you managed to make it in the first place.

Were you wearing flat shoes for the audition ? Damn you really must’ve done an impression on the judges if they made you pass without the heels try-on.

Your first day at the agency was chaotic to say the least. Your manager made you walk around the building, to visit she said. She made you wear heels. HEELS. That devilish person.

But, thank to that, you got to meet Taehyung. Your eyes landed on him as you were visiting the lounge and couldn’t tear them away from his figure. The poor man had to witness you fall down because you weren’t watching your steps anymore.

I mean.

Who could blame you ??

That was Kim frEaking Taehyung

!!!

He even came to help you get back on your feet and asked if you were alright, kind of amused.

It’s not everyday you see someone falling down in here, let alone a newbie

Let’s be honest, you were so embarrassed.

First day of work and you’re already failing falling.

That night when you came home, you spent the night wearing heels and prayed really hard you’d never have to face him again. After all, the building was big enough and there were enough workers that you could avoid Taehyung easily

If only

The NeXt day, you were told that you had a couple shooting, with none other that Kim Taehyung.

GreaT

He would occasionally tease you about your fall and check on you to see if everything was alright. He watched you carefully as you were walking around with heels.

From up close he looked even more handsome.... :)

After this day, you started talking with Taehyung more and more. He introduced you to everyone around the agency. You met outside of work, got to know each other. You both became regally good friends but there was something lingering in the air, in the way you’d look at each other or stood so close to him after a couple glasses of wine that you could breathe his air.

So what was bound to happen happened and you went from friends a to lovers without really noticing it.

He was still your best friend...somehow

Eventually, you took things to the next level and moved in together... maybe a half and a year ago or so ? You’ve never been happier in your life

And, well, you’d actually be happier if you could spend the day with boyfriend instead of running around trying to find god knows which accessories you need for the rehearsal.

8 in the morning is noT a time to be doing cardio.

Especially while wearing heels

Become a model they said, it’ll be fun they said

“Y/n! Come here please I need you to try on this dress before you go!” Your personal stylist calls “I made sure to fix it yesterday so it’d be a perfect fit for the show”

You stop your tracks and go to her “make this quick i have to go get changed before 9 otherwise I’m screwed. Why did they even decide to do the rehearsals so early today ?” You sigh, frustrated, and put on the dress she’s handing you “thank you”

“Okayyy...it looks great. Gold looks amazing on you.” She smoothes the dress and gives an approving nod, visibly satisfied ; “You’ll look perfect for the Grand Finale. Oh god it’s already 8:30 you better go before Mr.Kim throws a fit because you’re late”

You both giggle ; “thank you for fixing the dress Naeun, see you later today. Well, probably tonight. Byeeee”

The rehearsal seems to never end. You’re squeezed in dozens of different outfits, gorgeous for sure but sO tight. Mr. Kim, the one who organised the runway, is such a perfectionist that you have to re-do some things multiple times before he’s satisfied. One time the lighting isn’t right, the other the models are walking too fast, not on beat and so on.

Everyone hates him for that but he always makes the best shows so you just follow.

After multiple tries, the rehearsal finally comes to an end. It’s already 4PM. You barely get time to breathe and go pee before you’re back into the ‘running-around-to-find-my-dress-and-fix-my-makeup-oh-god-i-gotta-be-on-stage’ crazy mess.

Walking on the runway feels amazing, running backstage is terrible.

It’s so hot and small back there you can hardly move around well.

It takes 2 hours for the whole fashion show to be over, one more for pictures outside the catwalk and chat with reporters. Since you’re kind of a famous model now, you get invited to the afterparty and spend few extra hours interacting with some celebrities that attended the show. Other models were invited and you’re happy to see familiar faces amongst them. Jimin, an old colleague and friend of yours, comes your way and compliments you. You chat with him for a while before deciding you’ve had enough for the day and leave the party. A few more people greet you on your way out.

A taxi takes you back to you company, where you left your stuff in the morning. You spend an extra thirty minutes getting rid of your heavy makeup and striping off that gorgeous but awfully tight golden dress you’ve been wearing ever since the end of the runway.

Now, you can FinaLLy go home. yassssss

It’s almost 12am when you leave the agency and climb into yet another taxi. The ride is quiet, background music playing over the car’s radio, and you take some time to look at what you were gifted for your performance : fancy makeup products, accessories, pieces of clothing-but not those from the runway, you sadly never get to keep those. Being kinda famous has its perks :,)

You then decide it’s time to warn Taehyung you’ll arrive soon and send him a few texts. As if he was waiting for them, he instantly replies saying he’ll be waiting for you and proceeds to spam you with heart emojis. Sometimes, it looks like this man just discovered what emojis were and is trying to use them as much as possible. What a child…

It’s way past midnight when you finally step into your duplex and the first thing you notice is that the place is way too quiet.

Maybe Tae went back to sleep, who knows, it’s super late after all…

You remove shoes and jacket and drop your bags in the entrance before going further and you call out quietly “anyone here? Tae, you sleeping?”

There is a faint glow from the tv on your right but the sound has been muted.

Weird…

“Taehyung ?" You call one last time

Suddenly, two strong arms wrap themselves around your waist and you’re pulled into someone’s chest. You gasp, almost scream, but soften up when you feel the warmth on your back

“Hi baby” a deep voice says in your ear, sending chills down your spine “I missed you”

You turn around and are very pleased to see a handsome face and a warm exposed chest your boyfriend smiling at you.

“Mhm, missed you too” You wrap your arms around him and rest your head against his chest, happy to hear his heartbeat. Taehyung places his head atop of yours and gently strokes your hair. You tighten your grasp around him and hum.

Few seconds later, he lifts your chin up and gently lays a kiss on your lips.

“How are you doing?” He asks, his right hand cupping your cheek. The warmth of it is comforting.

“Exhausted, but you know how it goes” You shrug and he smiles

“Not too tired for dinner ? I could cook something if you want”

“Mhm... let me just go shower and put something else on” You sadly let go of him

“Sure, go ahead” he whispers and you give him a kiss before regretfully tearing yourself away from him.

You walk up the stairs to your bedroom, where you find the bed undone. You smile, Taehyung never really liked making the bed and, very honestly, neither did you. You slump onto the mattress and bury your face into the pillows, inhaling his scent. Lavender. Relaxing. Just like he is.

After a warm shower, you find a t-shirt Taehyung left on a chair in the room and wear it. It’s big enough to reach your thighs and, if you were more energised, you’d probably stay like this. You grab large pants and put them on.

Once again, you smell lavender all around you.

When you’re back in the living area, you see Taehyung busying himself in the kitchen. He hears your steps and his eyes find yours as a smile appears on his face when he notices that you’re wearing his shirt

“My shirt looks better on you than it’d ever do on me” He teases, his gaze longing on your frame.

“maybe I should keep it then” you smile and ask ; ”Do you need any help?”

“no no no no no, you’ve worked enough already. Go and have some rest. I'll call you when everything’s ready okay?”

Too tired to argue on this anyways -and thankful for the given rest-, you go lay down on the couch, your body oriented to let you look at Taehyung.

As he hums and moves to the chill music that was playing in the background, you start to detail his beautiful figure. From the curl of his dark hair (which you knoW are so so soft to the touch) to his beautiful profile and his nose you love so much down to his broad shoulder and then his tanned abs you see from time to time when the opened shirt of his pyjama moves according to his steps.

oH! Let’s not forget his perfect hands gripping at the pan’s handle while he cooks… vegetables? Something like that yeah.

Taehyung is giving his best into what he’s cooking. Vegetables with rice, that’s the only thing he could do quickly.

Quickly as in less than half an hour, unlike his friend Namjoon who’d take this time just to cook the rice.

The music he put earlier is slowly starting to bore him. After washing his hands, he reaches out for his phone and plays a different playlist. It’s one you name yourself when the two of you were still friends (aka not dating yet). “Taetae fm” because you once joked he should have his own broadcasting channel on the radio. He’d always criticise the music playing so why not have his own channel 👀

“You know Y/n, I actually watched the fashion show live this afternoon. I mean, of course you know because I always do that haha. Anyways, you really were the highlight of the runway tonight. And I’m not saying this in a biased point of view. Okay I might be a bit biased as your boyfriend but I swear that it’s true!! You literally shone back there, especially in that gold dress you were wearing and even the audience was impressed by your looks maybe you didn’t see it on stage but some cameras filmed their reactions and everyone was looking at you. Really, you were so gorge-oh” Taehyung looks at you and smile fondly “Of course you’re asleep, baby”

He lets his phone aside and checks the now cooked food before making his way to the couch. There’s a blanket on the sofa, he covers you with it, scared you might get cold. Taehyung put a loose strand of hair behind your ear and places a kiss on your chin.

You slowly open your eyes and find yourself face to face with him. You both smile.

“Hi there beautiful” He whispers

“what time is it? Did I sleep until the morning?” You’re scared of having slept through the entire nap without realising

“almost 1:20am, I just finished cooking. I thought you might be cold so I went to cover you with the blanket. You should go enjoy the food while it’s still hot, imma go to the toilet”

You nod as an answer and watch him leave upstairs. Getting up from the warmth of the couch is the hardest part so you keep the soft blanket draped around your shoulders and walk towards the kitchen. You grab two bowls and two pairs of chopsticks that you place on the counter along with glasses and a bottle of water.

You then go take care of the rice and the vegetables, which you mix in the pan. The song playing changes and your favourite nighttime tune starts.

“I don’t want a friend, I want my life in two” you sing along

“Waiting to get there, waiting for you” Taehyung’s voice startles you as he grabs your wrists and pulls your back close to him. You smile as he makes the both of you dance slowly. You put his arms around you so it’s like he’s hugging you from the back. You swing around for a little while, enjoying the close proximity as you both softly hum the song, making your body vibrate against each other, moving in perfect coordination.

“I love you” he whispers in your ear and then kisses it, sending chills down your spine, before lifting one of your arm up to make you turn so that you’re now facing him “did my baby sleep well?” You nod as you place your arms around his waist, paying attention to go under the shirt so you’re touching as much skin as possible.

Taehyung chuckles before asking you in that same, chill-sending, low deep voice ; “Still hungry? Because I’m starving”

If you didn’t just wake up, you would’ve definitely caught that lust in his eyes and also the fact that this wasn’t as innocent as it seemed.

As an answer, your stomach growls pretty loudly, making Taehyung laugh . “I’ll take that as a yes. Sit down, princess. Let me take care of you”

You do as he says, jumping on a stool, detailing all of his moves. You only realise how hungry you actually were when you start eating. Rice with vegetables has never tastes better. You eat everything in less than 5 minutes when you’d usually take your time to finish your plate.

“Damn, that was a well needed dinner! Thank you Tae” you mess a bit with his soft locks

“Imagine me who was waiting for you all evening!! I was hungry too” He pouts.

“Oh come on, I was working today. Cardio in heels isn’t the best way to wake up, let alone spend the whole day standing in tight clothes. When I think you has a day off… pfff. I saw the bed, I’m sure you stayed there all day, you lazyyyyyyyyy ass.”

He mumbles some gibberish and you giggle, knowing that you're right. He looks away, crossing his arms and obviously sulking. You leave your stool and stand behind him, wrapping your arms around his neck. You leave a few kisses on his cheek and neck

“- Don’t be such a babyy. You know I love you.

- You do?

- of course, you dummy” you bop his nose "Sooo, what do we have for desert?

- You. Uh I mean!! Yoghurt, fruits, cakes, fruits…anything” he clears his throat

“Great! What do you prefer?” You open the fridge

“ I’d very happily eat you out honestly but an apple sounds good”

“Oh sur- wait whaT!?” You snap your head to him, eyes wide open

what did he sayyyyyyyy?????

whaT am I even supposed to say noW oh my goddddd

You close the fridge’s door, suddenly not so yogurt-hungry.

There’s a sudden silence between the two of you, only disturbed by the music still playing in the background.

“Mhm? What is it?” He turns around to face you, asking so innocently “did I say something wrong ?”

This man knows what he is doing for sure. Has he ever been that straightforward before ?

Taehyung stands and closes the distance between your bodies, now towering over you.

He lowers himself slightly to speak in your ear “what is it baby? Mhm?” You feel his smile on your cheek when he lays a kiss on it “what happened to my all proud and fierce y/n who was so confident telling me I was being lazy all day, huh? Tell me” He lays another kiss on your temple

OkaY

now he’s being a tease

Great

1 A.M. fluffy and bare chested teaser Taehyung

gReAT

Anyhow, it’s a good turn on.

Really.good.freaking.turn.on

Being tired and turned on was definitely not a good mix for you. You could feel the heat rising in your body and hear your heart pounding in your ears.

“Tae…”

He laughs gently seeing you silently begging for more, brushing your face with his lips, teasing another kiss.

“Tsk tsk, you gotta speak darling, I cannot guess”

You should calm down and go to sleep, it’s 1am and you have work tomorrow you should definitely-

“Fuck-“ You sigh and grab his face, sealing your lips together while closing your eyes.

It doesn’t take long for that kiss to turn into a heated make out session.

You grab and pull some of his dark curls while his hands travels under his your shirt.

You break the kiss just a second to catch your breath.

“Have i ever told you you have the perfect body?” Taehyung asks

“Did I ever tell you how perfect you are??” You reply

He laughs, deep raspy laugh.

You’re too tired for this

And because you’re tired, you’re even more horny :D

Taehyung puts his hands behind your thighs and you jump, locking your legs around his waist, hands still in his hair, lips against his while carries you to the bedroom.

He leaves your lips to travel down your jaw and then collarbone. You throw your head back.

Taehyung gently lays you on the mattress of your king sized bed and makes it his personal mission to pleasure you tonight.

#taehyung fics #taehyung fanfic #kim taehyung au #taehyung fluff #bts fanfic #taehyung #taehyung ff #fluff #implied smut #model taehyung #bts fics #taehyung oneshot #taehyung one shots #taehyung one-shots #taehyung smut #kim taehyung x reader #taehyung au #it's 2am what am I doing #slow dancing in the night

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shigarakis-cumdump · 3 years

Text

Search History Pt. 2

https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shigarakiscumdump/works

(If you like what you read, consider supporting me on Ao3!)

Summary: How long has Shigaraki kept you in this musty room? You miss his face, too. He might be your kidnapper, sure, but he's all you have to talk to, if he'd give you attention..

A/N: Read part 1 here!

Cw: slight toture, stalking/ kidnapping, noncon/dubcon, somno

Word Count: 1.1k

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*..✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*..✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*..✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

It’s been 2 weeks and Shigaraki still hasn’t let you out of the musty room he put you in. The few times he’s visited you, other than giving you food or water, you try bargaining with him.

“Shigaraki, I’ve missed you so much!! When can I come out of this room? I want to spend more time with you!” you say cheerfully, but you can’t fool him.

“Nice try, sweetheart~ I know the second I let you out of here, you’ll run off to those little heroes and turn me in.” he replies. You’d swear that wasn’t the truth (not anymore, at least) but no matter how you worded it, he wasn’t letting you out until he trusted you. Were these his true colors? All you wanted was some human contact, or even just conversation, if we’re dealing with someone like Shigaraki. You think you developed Stockholm syndrome, but you weren’t sure (although if you question having it, you more than likely do). Every time he came down to see you, your face lit up like a child during Christmas. It would bring him joy, sure, but Shigaraki has horrible trust issues. Who could blame him? It seemed too good to be true that the hero he kidnapped actually likes him. He started to believe his bad thoughts which led to more overthinking, and overall, an angry Shigaraki.

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

“Shigaraki! How was your day? Did you go on any missions?” you beam.

“Don’t sweet talk me, slut. I don’t remember giving you permission.” he states coldly. Your brows furrow and you say, “I’m sorry.. We’ve talked before, I didn’t realize-”

“I said shut up!” he screams, “Every time you open that goddamn mouth of yours, you always talk about getting out. Why can't you see that I’m doing this for you. ALL OF THIS!”

“What? Keeping me chained up in this room?! You never come down to see me. If you loved me so much like you always boast about, you sure don’t fucking act like it.” you say, quickly realizing the words that came from your mouth. His crimson eyes lock onto yours as he steps closer to you.

“If you won’t shut up,” he says, unbuckling his pants, “I’ll make you.” Shigaraki forcefully grabs your head and pinches your mouth open. Before his cock is even in your mouth, tears are already streaming down your face. You try saying sorry, but it’s cut short by him hitting the top of your mouth with his cock. His head goes back, a low groan leaving him. “Now you’re being useful! This is when I love you the most- when you’re an obedient little slut.” he explains, forcing the rest of himself down your throat, feeling it tighten around him. Your hands were still chained, but the thought of trying to say no to him was terrifying. You gagged on his dick, turning Shigaraki on even more. He has a devilish smirk on his face, using his free hand to wipe the tears rolling down your cheek. “We’ll have plenty of time to train this throat of yours, too. I know you’ll be such a good hero slut for me, won’t you?” he says with a chuckle. You whine, wanting to protest. Shigaraki only slams into your face harder, your nose hitting his navel before his cum shoots down the back of your throat. Once he pulls out, he sits down beside you. “I love you so much, Y/N, I really do.. You just need to see it from my eyes.. I saved you from that horrible world so you could be safe and loved by me. You don’t need anyone else; I promise to make you love me just as much as I love you.” Make you? He was sounding even more delusional from the 1st time he rambled about this. The added bit of force did scare you, though. He may say that he loves you, but he was so unpredictable it’s like you were walking on eggshells.

“I’ll try and do better for you, Shigaraki..” you mumble, hoping at least that will make him happy. He wraps his arm around you and pulls you in. You freeze up at first, but his warmth quickly melted you until you were putty in his arms.

“Good. One day, you and I will live upstairs together, and we can laugh at all the heroes who die because of me.” he says happily, like it was a normal conversation. That thought made you shake a little. You didn’t want to die here, but as long as you obeyed him, he had only love in his eyes. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

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

As the days pass, Shigaraki brainwashes and manipulates you more and more, until he knows you won’t leave him; until you can’t leave him.

“Shigaraki!! Did you get hurt from work?!” you say worriedly, pulling him in for a hug. I saw it on the news! I don’t know what I would do without you, please don’t die on me!” you say, sobbing.

“I made it home didn’t I, kitten? I won’t be going anywhere anytime soon, don’t worry..” he reassures you, planting a kiss on your forehead. You sigh in relief.

“I’ll go make you some tea,” you offer, heading to the kitchen. His hand stops you and pulls you back to him.

“All I want right now is you, my love.” he says, kissing you. His hands are stationed at your hips, making you sit on his lap. You can feel him getting hard under you from just kissing. Cute . You try to innocently grind on him, but Shigaraki has picked up on those things by now. “Wanna help me with that?” he asks. You nod eagerly as you unbuckle his belt. His dick springs out from his boxers and your hand gets to work. Shigaraki’s hand is around your throat slowly cutting off circulation. “Make me cum before you pass out and maybe I won’t use you like a ragdoll,” he says with a grin. Your eyes widen and you smile back at him. Things like this turn you on more than ever now. You spit on your hand and jerk him off, watching his face contort into boatloads of pleasure. He bucks his hips up, wanting more friction. You speed up your hand and he tightens his grip. Your vision starts to go blurry, but you really want to make him feel good. Shigaraki suddenly puts all 5 fingers on your skirt and panties, leaving you bare. “Sit up.” he commands. You do so and he lines his cock up with your wet cunt. He pushes you down on it and guides you to go at just the right speed. “Fuck, suck a good slut for me, my perfect girl..” he moans, bucking up into you. Your whines fill the room when he hits your sweet spot, and it makes Shigaraki lose his mind. He stills your hips, filling your hole up with his cum.

“Did you just..”

“Gotta be extra sure my darling won’t leave me, don’t I?”

Notes:

#shigaraki x you #shigaraki x reader #noncon/dubcon #comno #Tw: somno #kidnapping #shigaraki thirst #shigaraki tomura #shigaraki smut #Tw: noncon #Cw:noncon

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kohakuarisaka · 3 years

Text

Untamed (chapter 2 of 5)

Takami Keigo x (fem!)Reader

[ SUMMARY ] Every year, without fail, Hawks went into a rut: when autumn began, and then again in early spring. He would honker down up north in a secluded cabin. For the first time, he brought you with him.

[ WARNINGS ] R18+ for graphic sexual content and language. Non-canon compliant: Hawks’ quirk does not work like this. Reader is a hero that works at Hawks agency. Pre-existing relationship. Reader is a female with female genitalia. Feral behavior. Rutting. Biting. Spanking. Slight BDSM. Consensual sex. Wing kink. Oral sex. Romantic relationship.

Chapter 1 • Chapter 2 • Chapter 3 • Chapter 4 • Chapter 5

[ My BNHA Fanfic Masterlist ] ~ [ Also on my AO3 ]

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

As it turned out, 'secluded cabin' was a pretty accurate statement.

Hawks had arranged for a very discreet hero taxi service to drive you the 5-hour trip from Musutafu to a quaint mountainous village that was so small and quiet, you almost doubted it was even on the map.

Past the snowy village, through the winding roads and towering trees, over a bridge, past a frozen lake, and then some miles off the main road, tucked away in a small clearing, was a beautiful cabin.

While the days were steadily growing warmer as spring rapidly approached, it still snowed at night. The snow had melted off the trees from the warmth of the midday sun; but, there was still a light blanket of white on the rooftop and across the surrounding grounds.

There were no poles lining the street, nothing that could bring electricity to the house; however, you could see what was likely a generator tucked away in the back. Someone had propped the cover off and cleaned out the snow.

At that sight, it became obvious that Hawks had beat you here. He already taken to clearing the snow out of the entry way as well, exposing a beautiful cobblestone pathway.

You exited the vehicle and retrieved your bags from the trunk. The very second you closed the hatch, the driver made a speedy exit, wheels skidding in the snow as they backed out before doing a sharp U-turn and barreling down the road.

Luckily, the entrance to the cabin opened before you could worry that you had just been abandoned in the middle of nowhere. Sure enough, Hawks stepped out, wild blonde locks brushed back, a little fluffier than usual due to the change in humidity.

Despite how cold it was, he was wearing a black tank top and loose, light grey sweat pants. He even stepped out onto the cold stone pathway with bare feet. Yet, with a light flush to his skin, he didn't look cold at all.

You had been making a face when he approached, and he offered an explanation, uttering, "I told 'em not to linger. It's suspicious."

Some large plumes departed his wingspan and grabbed at your luggage, one even pulling your shoulder bag off your back. They whipped away, bags in tow, and zipped past Hawks and through the doorway, disappearing into the cabin.

The winged hero didn't immediately usher you inside, as he usually did in these types of situations, but arched over you suddenly, arms bringing you into a tight embrace while his lips captured yours.

The sudden closeness forced your back to arch. Unconsciously, your hands fell onto his barely clothed shoulders, and you felt how warm he was. If you didn't know any better, you would have thought he was running a fever.

The kiss was brief, but uncharacteristically messy, not that you were complaining. It was a kiss of longing, like he had missed you dearly, as if it had been months and not a day and a half.

He pulled back, a distant, albeit blissful, look on his face. His eyelids sagged as if he was tired, but the gold of his iris was bright and his pupils were focused.

"I didn't get to clean yet, but - ugh - do you wanna see inside?" he asked, some slight nervousness to his tone.

"Yeah," you breathed.

Hawks stepped aside and you gently brushed past him and stepped inside. The wood floors creaked softly beneath your feet as you crossed the threshold. Immediately, you were hit with a wonderful scent, earthy, like tree bark, but sweet, like raw honey.

It was a decent sized cabin, spacious and not heavily furnished. The kitchen was on the small side, but seemingly to accommodate a larger living room.

As Hawks had warned, there was a thin layer of dust all across the wood floors. The furniture was covered by clear tarps, shielding them from the debris.

The dining area tucked away in the corner had a chabudai in place of a western style table. It was small and clearly only intended for two people. You had a feeling it was new, considering how spotless it looked compared to the rest of the cabin.

A huge, stone fireplace rested against the north wall, surrounded by large windows that gave a beautiful view of the outside. They were adorned with heavy curtains, pulled back to let the sunlight in.

Hawks was lingering, following close, staring down at you as you walked around and took in the sight of the place. When your eyes landed on him, and you caught his unblinking stare, you realized he was awaiting feedback.

It startled you a little, for Hawks wasn't the kind to fuss over these sorts of things; but, you had a decent enough understanding of what a rut was to know what was going through his head.

"Relax, birdbrain," you cooed, reaching up to tap gently at his cheek with a closed palm. That seemed to knock him out of his stupor, for he blinked and suddenly looked sheepish. He flickered his gold eyes away, as if to give you space.

"I love it," you praised, looking back into the living area. "Cozy, and smells nice."

You heard him exhale a relieved sigh through his nostrils.

"We should get to work. Where's the cleaning stuff?" you asked, peeling your jacket off.

"Oh. I'll-" he began.

"You'll let me help," you interrupted him gently.

When you turned back to face him, and saw the bewildered expression he was wearing, you wondered if maybe that wasn't the right thing to fit with his current state.

"Unless that's... bad?" you offered uncertainly, shoulders sagging.

Hawks laughed suddenly at the sunken expression on your face, as if the joyous sound came sputtering out against his will.

"No," he answered softly, leaning in suddenly for another kiss, as if he couldn't help it. You didn't get a chance to kiss back before he was retreating.

"Don't change," he sighed. "I want you as you, not as my..."

"-subservient housewife?" you offered, just a little teasing.

He chuckled softly, breathing out a harsh, "fuck, no."

Hawks maneuvered around you and headed for what you guessed was a supply closet. Inside, the cleaning gear was also neatly packaged in containers and safe from dust.

It made sense, how neatly arranged everything was. Hawks was a fairly neat person; but, it was also clear that he had this whole thing down, neatly tuned and properly sorted out. He had been coming here for years, after all.

This place was special to him. That much was clear.

The two of you started to dusting and sweeping, followed by a diligent mopping, with the two of you working in tandem.

Hawks was fairly quiet during the whole ordeal, seemingly focused sternly on the task at hand. It had been his nest for years. This was hardly anything new; but, it was now going to be yours, too.

He didn't tell you that he had been worried he would react negatively to your presence. He didn't always react rationally during this time. Seemingly average things would sometimes irritate him, and a part of the possessive onslaught included this abode.

Fortunately, that hadn't been the case. Cleaning the cabin with you was soothing. He wasn't unaware of the obvious implication: that you were preparing a nest together, your shared nest. He didn't say it aloud, but you had come to that realization, as well.

It had actually calmed him quite a bit. He had been on edge before you arrived, skin prickled with heat and sweating unreasonably considering the cold. Those weren't abnormal during his ruts; but, it felt intensified with that knowledge that you were going to be here.

Darkness swept across the forest as the hours dragged on. Luckily, you were just about finished by the time it got dark.

There was a neat stack of firewood arranged on a carrier near the fireplace, making you wonder if that was what he had worked on before your arrival. The logs looked freshly cut and heavy.

Crimson feathers delivered logs to the hearth. Hawks retrieved a set of matches from a cubby near the carrier and then kneeled before the hearth. He set one of the matches ablaze and carefully ignited the firewood arranged in the pit.

Warmth and light flooded the cabinet. Plumes gathered along the edges of the curtains and pulled them back, covering the windows. When they returned to his wingspan, he stepped back and monitored the fire briefly.

While cleaning, you had learned there was a cellar and partial second story, as well as an indoor bathroom. It seemed that the main use of the generator was to power the water heater and indoor plumbing.

The cellar was small, down a short flight of stairs, with concrete floors and walls, the perfect size for containing a month's worth of food and supplies, far more than was necessary for just a week.

The second story was a loft that oversaw the living room, giving a great view of the fireplace. There was no safety railing on the upstairs, likely for the very obvious fact that Hawks could fly. There was, at least, a staircase.

Upstairs, there was a large bed frame with a plush mattress, wrapped up tight to protect from dust, a large chest pressed up against the wall, and a desk without a chair.

After he removed the bed cover, you watched Hawks pull neatly folded blankets and pillow cases out the chest. It was fascinating to see someone, who normally slept wherever his body landed, so meticulously prepare the bedding: layers and layers of blankets, followed by dressing the pillows and laying them out.

It was especially perplexing because of the intense, concentrated look on his face. He had been so focused that he hadn't even realized that you had paused what you were doing to watch him.

Luckily, you caught yourself staring before he did, and shuffled back downstairs before he could notice.

A sudden howling had startled you, before a sharp wind rattled against the shutters. Something was thumping gently against the roof and when the wind picked up, you could almost hear the trees shuddering outside.

"It's snowing," Hawks observed, suddenly at your side.

You could see a glimpse of crimson in the corner of your eye, and realized he had a wing fanned out around you, not quite close enough to touch, but hovering. Maybe, he hadn't even realized he was doing that.

"Oh," you answered quietly.

Together, you prepared dinner, settling for a classic favorite of his: yakitori chicken and stir fry noodles.

Eating dinner together, and talking about nothing, made you realize, it had been the first time in a long time, if ever, that you hadn't discussed work: nothing about the agency, nothing about heroes or villains, nothing about police business or missions.

It was just senseless conversations that amounted to nothing.

The dining table was small and the floor was cold; but, your hands brushed constantly due to the lack of space. It made you realize that you had longed to have this type of moment with him, something so utterly domestic.

"I know it's not super late," Hawks began, on his way to the kitchen with the dirty plates. "But, I'm gonna wake you up early; so, let's get to bed, okay?"

His voice was soft, surprisingly drowsy, you realized, and he continued, "it's - well, there's something I wanna show you, and it looks best in the sunrise."

He had started the dishes before you could; so, you stepped in close, deciding to tease him a little.

"I bet you do look best in the sunrise," you uttered, leaning against the counter top near the sink, where he had busied his hands. He was looking away from you; but, you could see his lip twitch into a faint smile.

Hawks laughed, a low chuckle that rumbled through his chest. "Not me," he replied softly. Yet, he found himself feeling enamored with the knowledge that that was where your mind had wandered first.

"Do you want me to wait for you?" you offered, standing upright and shifting away from the counter.

"Nah," he replied simply. "I'll join ya' in a bit."

You changed into your pajamas, brushed your teeth and pulled your hair back, before heading upstairs. Blankets and pillows were stacked high on top of the mattress, making the bedframe disappear beneath it.

It not only looked incredibly warm, but incredibly soft, and an inspection with your hand, smoothing over the surface, confirmed that. There were several pillows pressed against the headboard and even more at the foot of the bed.

If you hadn't seen him arrange it, you would have doubted it was even Hawks' bed. From the glimpses you had seen into his life, he was a minimalist.

His office at the agency was fairly large, but looked almost comical with the lack of furniture in it. He wasn't one to buy much of anything outside of perishables.

"Take those off."

You had heard that commanding tone many times before; but, in the peace and serenity of this cabin, it startled you. Your shoulders twitched a little and you turned to face him, having not heard Hawks approach.

His gold eyes were glaring at your body, shifting up to meet your gaze when you turned to face him.

You gawked back at him, dumbfounded by his boldness, and a little intrigued, if you were being honest. He had warned you about this, and you were about to comply when his dark expression suddenly softened.

"Oh fuck," Hawks blurted, embarrassment washing over his face. The intensity of the moment dissipated and you found yourself unable to hold back a faint smile at the way his face so rapidly changed from anger to shame.

"Shit - I - sorry - ugh," he stammered, some redness tinting the tops of his ears. His dominant hand came up and ruffled his hair. "That was messed up. Ah - what I mean is, can we sleep naked?"

It was clear he wasn't embarrassed about the request, but the way that he had asked. You couldn't hold back a soft chuckle at his frazzled state.

"Of course," you uttered, and began shedding your clothes.

He was staring at your nudity as if it wasn't something he had seen many times before, as if his hands and mouth hadn't explored every inch of skin, hadn't touched and claimed parts of you your own hands couldn't reach.

It made you feel powerful, beautiful.

"Did you brush your teeth?" you asked, knocking him out of his stupor.

He didn't respond, but made a face that gave you your answer. He turned away then, and hopped over the edge of the loft, floating down into the lower floor, and scurried off to the bathroom.

Promptly, you disappeared beneath the blankets, shivering from the cold, skin prickled with goosebumps. You were about to scold yourself for complying with him so eagerly, without demanding a compromise, mainly that you expected him to warm you up.

Luckily, it didn't take him long to join you, and you suddenly felt a very warm, and very naked, body slot into the space behind you, wiggling beneath the blankets. It was almost concerning how warm he was, like he had just flung himself into the hearth before running back over here.

You rolled onto your back to greet him and Hawks wasted no time slotting over you, tangling legs, arms falling on either side of your head. Wispy bangs fell over his forehead, longer strands catching on his eyebrows.

Your eyes peered over his shoulders, where you could see his wings were fanned out above him, plumes stretched wide, looming possessively. When your gaze shifted to his face, your breath hitched.

His stare was hypnotizing, as if he couldn't believe you were here, gold eyes practically glowing in the dimly lit loft.

It made you sad to think just your presence alone had pleased him so much, whereas nothing else had yet to occur. It made you think of all the years he had to endure this alone, the loneliness far more straining than the lack of a pliant body.

"Hey," he began, voice hoarse, distant.

His dominant hand shifted from the bed to cup your cheek, thumb gently prodding at your cheek bone. Just like the rest of his body, his hand was so warm.

"I know I said I wouldn't let you leave," he explained, fingers sliding carefully across your temple. "But, if you want to, at any time, I'll call the taxi and-"

You leaned up, taking his lips in a gentle kiss to silence him. He moaned into the kiss, clearly surprised by your interruption. His hand departed your face, lowering to caress the side of your neck.

When you pulled back, he chased, not letting you depart from him quite so quickly. The kiss carried on for a short while, Hawks only leaning back when he was satisfied.

"No," you disagreed in a soft hum, hands rising to push strands of his hair out of his face. "I'm not leaving. We're going through this together. Okay?"

He let out a sigh that fluttered across your cheeks. "Okay," he agreed, as if he couldn't believe it.

Hawks shifted until he was lying beside you, one arm loose around your waist. You turned a little to lay on your side and lean into him, cheek falling comfortably into the pillow beneath your head, and felt him nuzzle into your back, bringing you as close as he could without ruining your comfort.

One of his wings folded carefully over you while the other sprawled out across the bed. The light from the fire just barely reached the loft, an amber glow that flickered with the dancing flames.

The sounds of the gentle snowfall outside was a little louder upstairs. One of the nearby windows rattled softly, trembling weakly from the breeze that shook the shutters. The rafters above creaked occasionally in melodic hums.

Behind you, Hawks' chest undulated with his breathing, moving against the skin of your back. His wings shifted ever so slightly in harmony with the expansion and shrinking of his lungs. The longer plumes on the ends twitched occasionally.

"Keigo?" you whispered.

He didn't answer. Judging by the way his arm had slackened where it rested over your waist, you figured he had fallen asleep already.

The bedding was soft, and you had no doubt that he had washed them diligently; yet, mingled with the earthy tones of the cabin, they smelt like him. The hearth crackled distantly, the sound a faint echo through the cabin.

It didn't take long to slip away.

• • •

Sometime in the middle of the night, you were woken by a strange sound. In your groggy state, it sounded like a distant animal cooing into the night.

Once you properly came to, you realized the warmth against your back had retreated. The blanket had been partially ripped away in the process, leaving the skin of your back exposed to the cold air of the cabin.

What had sounded far away you now realized was coming from right behind you, pained little noises and harsh wheezing. You rolled over to take in the sight of Hawks, blindly reaching for him in a moment of panic.

Worry struck you when your skin touched his. He had already been warm to the touch before; but now, his skin felt scorching, sticky with sweat. Your hand had landed on his chest, where you could feel his muscles rapidly rising and falling with each staggering breath.

The noise that had woken you became obvious then; he was panting, sharp and labored breaths that whooshed in and out of him, occasionally accompanied with a quiet, pained sound.

He had shoved the blankets away and was laying on his back, wings tucked in uncomfortably tight beneath him. Through the faint glow of warm light from the fireplace, you could see his chest raising and falling rapidly, head tossed back, face contorted in pain. Some strands of blonde locks were clinging to the sweat soaked skin on his face.

"Keigo - Keigo," you called to him, hands rising to his shoulders so you could shake him.

It wasn't until he jerked suddenly, eyes opening and head whipping towards you, that you realized he had been sleeping. His labored breathing intensified, but only for a second, before he started to calm down.

His gold eyes were glossy for a second, staring at you blindly, before he started to wake properly. His lips were parted, sharp breaths still escaping him in harsh wisps.

"Are you okay?" you whispered harshly. "Are you sick? You look-..."

You could see a bead of sweat rolling down his temple. Now, with him leaning up a little, you could see the flush of red tinting his skin, all down his chest and across his cheeks. His shoulder muscles were tight and his wings twitched helplessly beneath him.

"I'm f-fine," Hawks answered, voice low and hoarse. He swallowed roughly. "It's - it's a n-normal side effect."

"You're burning up," you hissed, hands touching his skin so carefully, like you would hurt him if you were too rough. "Are you sure you're okay?" you insisted.

"Just need-" he growled, cutting off as he tried to sit up.

His movement had repositioned your hands, causing them to drag from his shoulders to his chest, less you lose stability and collapse on top of him.

It was a familiar touch, a place you had touched him many times before; yet, he froze suddenly, gaze shifting down to your hands as if they were grounding him to this plane of existence.

Hawks' gold eyes fluttered shut and his pained expression softened. He flopped back on the bed, giving up his attempt to sit up as if he had suddenly lost all strength in his body.

Catching on, you uttered into the cold air, "is that what you need? Keigo, do you want me to-"

"Yes," he answered sharply, hissing through the cold, chilled air. He sounded relieved, thankful that you had offered before he had to ask.

"God, fuck - I - I need you, need to - to - be inside you-"

His babbling briefly ceased when you pushed the blankets off yourself and rolled on top of him, a gesture you had done many times before, now a nearly perfect art.

You watched, hypnotized as Hawks arched his back off the bed and flexed his wings until they were sprawled out on either side of him. The beautiful crimson plumes stretched out across the sheets, shuddering in faint waves that matched his heavy breathings.

In the shift, his cock became pinned against your inner thigh. If you didn't known any better, you would have thought he was prodding you with an iron rod pulled straight from the fires of a forge.

It was unbearably hot, hard as steel and painfully poking against your flesh. You could feel his heartbeat through his cock, throbbing against you as if pleading to be touched.

Arousal had never struck you this hard before, with enough force that it made your never regions throb and chest tighten. Blood rushed to your face so quickly, you briefly feared you would pass out.

Now, hovering, looking down at him, it was almost unbearable. It was clear that Hawks was in pain, and you felt a tinge of guilt at the realization that his state had aroused you.

But, the truth was, he looked stunning.

Maybe it was the red flush staining his skin, or the glisten of sweat, shiny with the reflection of the fire burning in the hearth. Maybe it was the way his gold eyes practically glowed through the darkness, staring up at you like a starving predator, glaring with dangerous intent.

Some sort of inhuman growl escaped him and Hawks grabbed at your meaty hips, roughly pulling you forward. It didn't take you long to figure out what he was doing; but, your attempts to aid were waisted, for he simply dragged you down to his liking, until the heat of your sex collided with his face ungracefully.

The first thing you registered was his mouth kissing sloppily at your sex. His tongue followed, lapping at your folds impatiently before breaching your heat. Hawks was always the kind to give sloppy oral; but, this was something else entirely.

He moaned shamelessly when his tongue registered your taste, hips rising off the bed as if attempting to chase a sensation that wasn't there.

Your hands fall onto the wall, and you tried to keep yourself up; but, he wasn't having it, growling and pulling you back down. It was difficult to not go dead weight when his tongue was lapping at your walls, mouth suctioned around your entrance like he was trying to suck juices from a ripe fruit.

One of your hands weaved through his hair, gently massaging his scalp in a praising gesture. It was difficult to get out sensible words. Instead, you moaned broken pieces of his name, thighs trembling on either side of his head.

You had no idea how much time had passed before he seemed satisfied and finally lifted you up enough to remove his mouth. The wet gasp that escaped him, suggesting he had been holding his breath, riddled you with shameful lust.

"You made a mess," Hawks observed deliriously.

He sounded immensely pleased with himself and even leaned in to take another taste, this time honing in on your pearl. You felt more than heard his pleased chuckle when you whined at the sudden touch.

This time, when he pulled away, he let you retreat. As you shimmied down his body, you caught him wiping your essence off his face with a careful finger before popping it in his mouth.

Hawks' skin was still flushed red, all the way up to his ears; but, now, he looked damn smug to top it all off. You couldn't see the look you were wearing, but you knew by the heat on your face that it was lewd.

The cold of the cabin had been lost to you, especially when you positioned your hips over his and felt the head of his cock nuzzle at your entrance, threatening to breach your core.

Hawks' head fell back into the sheets with a whine, eyes squeezing shut. Tantalized by the sight, you intended to tease him a little; however, he nudged his hips forward with a sudden jerk, effortlessly impaling you on his cock, and taking that opportunity away.

"Ohhh, fuck!" Hawks shouted before sucking his bottom lip beneath his teeth. He released it after letting out a low hiss.

You closed your own eyes for a moment, adjusting to the sudden intrusion of his impressive girth, and felt his hands slowly slide up your thighs into the dips of your hips, slotting over a spot he had practically engraved for himself ever since this began.

When your eyes opened, you looked down and took in the deliriously beautiful look on his face. His thumbs nudged your hip bones pleadingly and his eyes opened, peering up at you through dark lashes.

Forgoing any thoughts about teasing, you planted your hands on his chest and rolled your hips. The motion punched a whine out of him. The sound drawled out into a growl when you kept the rhythm, chasing your own pleasure.

"Yeah," he hummed encouragingly. "Come on. Use me. Fuck yourself on my cock. Just like - ahh - fuck..."

You hardly needed the encouragement; but, the dirty words spewing from his lips further ignited the heat in your belly, and you whined in response.

He could have easily pulled your hips down to intensify the moment. Instead, he lifted his hips off the bed to meet yours, effortlessly matching your movement and chasing the delicious warmth and wetness of your core, while letting his hands hold you gently.

"Baby, do you feel good?" Hawks uttered lowly, his pleading question gently breaking through the moment.

"Y-ye-s, Kei - go," you sobbed, stuttering out your response and groaning halfway through his name.

It was always good; but, something about this moment made it more intense than ever before. You could already feel the sensation rising, thighs trembling every time his cock slid back inside, hitting the perfect spot again and again.

"Yeah?" he hummed, sounding so breathless and fucked out, despite you having just barely begun. "You feel good, so fucking good," he praised between labored pants and low moans.

"You're so fucking good to me," Hawks babbled on, head falling back into the sheets, where he closed his eyes. You watched his adam's apple bob, noticed how tight his jaw was clenched.

A growl vibrated through his chest, followed by a breathless sympathy of curses, "oh fuck - oh fuck. Come on, fuck my cock - yeah - ahhh. Ya' hear that? Those sounds. God, you're so f-fucking perfect."

Your union was loud, skin slapping together and wet, fleshy sounds echoing between the two of you.

His dominant hand released your hip and slid around, thumb prodding between your folds and seeking out your pearl. You were already so sensitive, feeling him so deep, teetering on the edge. When his calloused skin touched that spot, you let out a cry.

"Come on this cock," Hawks groaned. "Sooo close - f-fuck. Come on. Come for me. Fucking come. Gonna fill you up. You want that? My seed. Yeah you fucking d-hnn-"

His babbling ceased when your orgasm took you, the sudden spasms and fluttering of your walls making all sensible thoughts drain from his mind.

His hand returned to your hip, fingers gripping your waist, and he started roughly dragging you up and down to meet his thrusts. You went limp, letting him bounce you on his cock to your liking. Your hands slipped off his chest and you fell onto him, forehead knocking gently against his cheek.

You could hear him huffing and grunting, the occasional growl seeping through, right into your ear as he fucked you through your orgasm, and continued on, chasing his end.

His cock throbbed, firmly enough that you felt it and the sensation startled you a little; but, that thought was lost when he let out an uncharacteristically loud shout, crying out in ecstasy.

Hawks had always been loud; but, this was something else entirely, and the moans and growls didn't stop, along with his undulating hips, for what felt like an eternity.

To top it all off, you could feel it, spurts of his seed, burning hot as it filled you. In the corner of your eye, you could make out his feathers, each and every one trembling beneath him.

Then, finally, he went still.

Hawks' panting filled the room, almost loud enough to drown out the crackling of the fireplace. Even after his panting died down, he let out quiet groans, his orgasm having not yet waned in full.

Eventually, he turned his head and pressed a wet kiss against your cheek. You turned your head to meet him, at first catching the corner of his mouth before he angled his head to kiss you properly.

You could practically feel the praises behind each kiss, thank you's and love pouring from his mouth to yours in a nonverbal gesture. His hands ran up and down your back, massaging your skin but also ensuring that you didn't move and he remained deep inside you.

When he finally released your lips, you busied your hands with his wild mane, gently pushing strands away from his face. He seemed to like the preening, letting his eyes flutter shut and head fall back.

You didn't have to ask if he was feeling better. His all-body, harsh red blush had mellowed out and he wasn't panting like a parched dog.

You hadn't realized you were still trembling until he uttered, "it's okay," in a soothing, worried voice.

His hands shifted to your thighs, where he carefully pushed them back and rolled you onto your side, keeping his cock nuzzled deep. His arms wound around your back, bringing you into an embrace while his wings stretched out behind him before sagging comfortably to the bed.

You realized, as he brought you in, that you were still shaking a little. The worry was evident in his eyes, like he had done something wrong.

"D-do you want me to pull out?" he offered in a weak voice.

"It's not that," you replied softly. "That was... intense."

When your eyes locked with his gold orbs, and he took in the sight of your expression, it seemed to steadily become clear to him, what you were feeling. His lips sought our your skin, senselessly kissing whatever he could reach, all over your cheeks, down your chin and along the expansion of your throat.

Hawks’ head fell onto the pillow and his wispy blonde hair tangled with yours. The unease began to fade away as he held you close, bringing the blanket back over your forms when his intense heat finally started to wane. So did the spell, and something concerning struck him.

"Please, tell me if it gets too intense," Hawks uttered, breath fluttering out against your temple. “I’ll-...”

He cut himself because he wasn’t quite what he would do, what he could do. Could he stop? In this moment of clear thoughts, he sure hoped so. But, part of him feared that wasn’t true, and the last thing he wanted was to lie to you about what he was capable of.

You had figured that he had yet to hit the apex of his rut. Yet, his warnings hadn't frightened you in the slightest, especially after what had just occurred. If anything, you were enticed by it. Maybe, in some strange way, it was affecting you to.

"I can handle you," you promised.

You felt more so than heard the uneasy breath that stuttered out his nostrils. Your words stirred something deep in his gut, overcoming the fear, burning arousal and adoration.

#takami keigo x reader #takami keigo smut #takami keigo x you #hawks x reader #hawks smut #takami keigo fanfiction

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river-bottom-nightmare · 3 years

Text

an (incomplete) list of things kon can do because lex luthor is his dad that people always forget about:

#1 : math - he's fifteen, and math comes easy to him (unlike a lot of people his age, or at least, his visible age.) a lot of things come easy to him, because when you have all knowledge in the known universe downloaded into your brain, things like advanced math don't bother you very much.

but it bothers his friends, because bart loses interest about three seconds into the assignments, cassie groans anytime "homework" is brought up in general, and tim hates the concept and execution of math so much that he'd rather hide in kon's room where he thinks no one will look for him instead of even cracking open a textbook.

but kon's pretty sure being a hero means you don't need any real world skills, and after his initial hesitation and disagreements, he realized that he genuinely wants these people to like him, to be friends with him. their math homework is easier than a breeze to complete.

#2 : tying a tie the ~fancy~ way - he's nineteen, and his fingers flow through a silk tie like a fish through water. the motions are beyond familiar, he could do them in his sleep. so is the action of pulling on a suit, pressing his collar, arranging his hair into a neat style. he's timothy drake-wayne's date tonight, and he needs to look the part. fortunately, luthor taught him how to look the part a long the ago.

the party itself is,,,,pleasant, he supposes. he spends most of the time as arm candy, tim's pretty little thing as his boyfriend sweet-talked investors and networked. but they both know that the tipsier people are, the easier they let slip secrets to someone they believe won't understand them, and kon gathers a wealth of information by the time he meets up with tim by the appetizer bar right before dinner.

tim tugs him close by his tie and kisses his cheek, then laughs when kon discreetly but disgustedly spits out the pickled salmon cracker toppings.

#3 : educated debating - he's sixteen, and in an argument with tim that's gone so off the rails that kon can't even remember what they were fighting about in the first place. wherever they started, they were here, now, kon on top of a table in an ice cream parlour screaming about how a socialist approach to taxes would boost the lower class, tim on top of a barstool screaming right back about how the middle class are the only ones paying taxes and socialism would only put more weight on their shoulders.

both of them are this close to busting out laughing, and the only reason they haven't been thrown out is because the employee behind the counter is frantically taking notes. kon can see it in tim's eyes, see the way the younger boy didn't expect to hold such a passionate and intense debate with him, didn't expect kon to be capable of it. it's a pleasant surprise, though; that much is evident in tim's barely-hidden grin.

the debate comes to a pause when bart smacks him with a spoon and tells him off for stepping on the speedster's ice cream, and the tiredness with which he collapses back into the booth is a good one.

#4 : efficient + effective workplace supervision - he's twenty, and wondering how in the hell people hadn't murdered the entirety of young justice when it was first founded. bart had graduated to being the flash's full time sidekick, and though he came to visit often, it wasn't the same. gotham was almost always on the verge of imminent disaster these days, and tim was one of the few ropes holding it together. kon missed him like crazy, but his few visits were all the boy could spare. cassie was in charge now, and she was a wonderful leader, but busy, always smoothing over relations between the team and the justice league and civilian offices.

so, somehow, that left kon to be the den mother to all the new younger kids, and somehow, kon was good at it. he knew exactly what to say to get people to listen to his commands, telling them to work on this or work on that, train for this and practice that. he tells them when to get some sleep and let the weight of the day roll off their shoulders, and when to push themselves to raise them higher than they ever thought they could go. unexpectedly, he finds himself liking it.

#5 : the splits

#6 : colour schemes + interior decorating - he's twenty-one, and tim's finally deciding to turn the nest into a home. bart, who had spent the last couple of years bouncing between allen-west-mercury households and was therefore accustomed to a home with a fire of love reaching every corner and every member of the family, was appalled. so was kon, honestly.

the penthouse that tim worked out of was cold and impersonal, sleek lines that angles that matched the limbs and contours of tim's body. but the shadows around tim's eyes had lessed over the past few years, his smile coming to his lips almost as easy as when young justice first learned how to work together. all it took was a little encouragement from cassie, and suddenly, all four of them were involved in a home renovation project.

cassie churned out ikea furniture like it was nothing, the three of them taking a break from their jobs to just watch her as she lifted one of their hardwood bookshelves with one hand. bart bought home goods and essentials from various department stores and ran around, stocking the house with them wherever he felt a saucepan needed to be hung (near the coat hanger) or a candle holder needed to be placed (on the kitchen barstools, because apparently those were decorative anyway).

kon, meanwhile, decorated. he painted rooms and bought curtains and pillows, yes. but he also sorted through every single souvenir and memory the four of them had managed to accumulate over the years, photographs and hacked-off pieces of giant robots and saved movie tickets and broken weapons. he gets his hands on everything he can find, then fills up tim's nest until it's brimming with a cosy warmth made up of the four of them.

still, it's an obnoxiously large penthouse, so there's empty and open space left over even after redecorating. it's tim who takes a breath and works up the courage to tell them, not ask but tell them, that he wanted each of them to have their own bedroom. so bart takes the largest guest room and turns it into an explosion of colour, and cassie spends too much time decorating a room that she won't even live in most of the time. kon conspicuously notes how tim doesn't bother giving kon a room, just dumps kon's backpack on his bed and clears room in his own closet. he does wrap tim in a ttk hug though, from all the way across the room, and drinks in tim's red flush.

#7 : speed reading (no powers) - he's seventeen, and just now realizing how competitive his best friends are. cassie had long since resigned herself to being the judge and the hander-outer-of-prizes (candy from the nearest convenience store) for the speed-reading competition, but tim, kon, and bart were still in the running.

eventually, though, the pressure from holding back his powers grew too strong, and bart slumped against the back of the sofa, mournfully opening his mouth so cassie could drop a candy into it.

and then there were two.

kon thought back to the confrontation that had started this contest in the first place, robin's offhand comment about how he had to be the one to collect the data files from the company office they were infiltrating, because he was the only one who could speed-read and retain information. that had spiraled into an argument, then a challenge, then a competition, with a clear rule not to use any powers.

kon darted his eyes across the page, soaking up every word, the pages like tiny knives on the pads of his fingers as he turned them. he lost track of the page count, just reading and reading and reading until he tried to turn the page and realized there wasn't a next one. he yelled in triumph, reveling in tim's defeated groan, and settled in for cassie's quiz on the contents of the book.

#8 : sophisticated meal and wine palette - he was twenty-two, and discovering that he really, really liked tim's shocked face. they'd been friends for years now, childish hatred turned into playful bantering turned into knowing each other inside out. still, every now and then, kon did something that forced tim's eyebrows high on his head, his eyes widening just the barest bit.

right now, kon was at a dinner party with the words moral support written across his forehead. tim could handle himself remarkably well, but there was tiredness lacing the smaller boy's frame, and kon could practically see the way the tips of his soul were frazzled. so kon let tim lean into his arm and whispered jokes about luna-with-the-big-ugly-purse and martonio-who-can't-do-a-combover into his ear. or, at least, he was.

somehow he'd been drawn into a good natured argument with the man sitting just two seats down from tim and kon. friendly opinions of food had been tossed back and forth, growing more and more heated until kon looked him right in the eye and said he liked prosecco with his prosciutto, internally crowing with satisfaction at their shocked silence and sighing with pity that none of the guests here would ever try that combination out of fear of deviation. once the man had regained his sensibilities, he shot back, saying the sixth course should never serve salmon, instead regaling the fish to the amusebouche or the cheese course. kon snorted and told him fish itself was going out of style, and if he wanted to impress guests at the next dinner party he hosted, he should try serving octopus.

tim's shocked face was a pleasant surprise, but seeing the stunned, controlled blinks of everyone around him as they realized he wasn't just a pretty face was satisfying as well. even more satisfying was when he and tim said their goodbyes; while waiting for the valet, tim pressed up onto the tips of his toes and whispered promisingly in kon's ear, i fucking love your competence.

#9 : manipulating people into hating him to justify his actions - he was eighteen, and he was screaming, crying, tearing his hair out. kon didn't know what he had expected. lingering fondness? grudging acceptance? maybe a small leap for a chance at love?

it didn't matter. clark didn't want anything to do with him. and he was eighteen now, which meant clark didn't need to take care of him anymore, didn't need to pretend to pay attention to him anymore. he'd made it quite clear.

maybe that was why he found himself hesitating before saying no to amanda waller's offer. he forgot about the warnings tim gave him, though, and waller pounced on that hesitation, quicker than a panther. it was easy, it was oh so easy to let himself go with her.

besides, they had a reason to hate him now. he hadn't done anything to clark. he hadn't asked to be made. but clark had wanted nothing to do with him anyway, and didn't that sting. so if people were going to turn him away now, it was going to be for something he did.

he didn't realize how bad he was spiraling, how close he was to stepping off the lighted ledge he'd been balancing on his entire life and tumbling into the darkness below. but cassie had a stronger punch than most grown superheroes, and bart had tenaciousness written into every strand of his ginormous hair, and tim gripped his jaw so hard his fingernails dug into kon's skin and told kon that he was getting his best friend back, no matter what the hell he thought he was worth.

maybe it was madness that made him throw himself forward, still wrapped in the lasso cassie borrowed from diana, practically mauling tim's lips with his own. he was pretty sure he wasn't supposed to break down crying after he kissed someone, given past experience, but the three of them, his wonderful, wonderful friends, just hugged him tight, let him fight and shake and sob until all the rage was gone. it was the first time in a long while he'd done something in hopes that someone would look at him with love, not hatred.

#10 : waltzing - he was twenty-three, twenty three and giddy with how much time he had left. conner was with tim drake-wayne publicly now, so expectations were thrust onto him, expecting to be met.

kon tended to have more fun at events than tim ever did. granted, kon didn't have to deal with all of his coworkers drinking too much and exchanging money with secrets faster than drugs and asking tim whether or not his relationship meant he was open for still-young and handsome men who needed just a small escape from their wives. but tim wasn't trying very hard to enjoy himself either.

so kon was completely justified in tugging him towards the center of the room, in a patch of floor sparsely occupied, then pulling him as close as he dared. tim's panicked whisper of what!? was overridden by kon's laughter, but he muffled his sounds for a minute, letting tim hear the quiet music playing in the background (prerecorded and playing on speakers, not live).

understanding broke over tim's face, and he arched into kon's hold as easy as breathing. kon moved one of his hands to grip tim's wrist, and he twirled the two of them effortlessly, breathless at tim's flabbergasted expression. the rhythm was simple, and tim caught on quickly. one two three, one two twist, one two three, one two step, one two three, one two switch, one two three, one two three.

kon couldn't say they danced the night away, because a little while later tim took a break for a drink, then speeches were made, then dinner was served. by then, they were both entirely too tired to dance, longing for just a bed and a soft blanket and each other. but for those few minutes in the middle of a packed yet empty ballroom, kon and tim did lose themselves in the music, just a little bit.

i don't know shit about taxes or socialism. this got way longer than anticipated whoops. i'm tagging this "long post," but if someone asks me to put it under a cut, i'd be happy to

also jesus christ this thing is almost 2.5k words. im uploading it to ao3 later if i'm in the mood

tag list: @woahjaybird @birdy-bat-writes @anothertimdrakestan @subtleappreciation @screennamealreadyused @pricetagofficial @catxsnow @bikoncon @maplumebleue-blog-blog @sundownridg @thatsthewhump @xatanna-troy

#scribbles from the swamp #kon-el #conner kent #superboy #timkon #core four #dc #kon-el headcanon #kon-el fic #conner kent headcanon #conner kent fic #superboy headcanon #superboy fic #timkon headcanon #timkon fic #core four headcanon #core four fic #dc headcanon #dc fic

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irrelevantwriter · 3 years

Text

Unspoken

Pairing: Rio (Good Girls) x Female Reader/You

Rating: Explicit, NSFW

Warnings: Language, vaginal fingering, public sex, car sex, unprotected vaginal sex, mild choking, mention of bodily fluids, shitty exes, petty Rio (yaaaass)

Word Count: 5.8K

Summary: Part 6. Feelings were shared. Where does that leave you and Rio? A dinner with your ex? A car in a dark parking lot?

A/N: The last part is here! Though as I said yesterday I am definitely not calling this the end. I have lots of ideas for Rio and I’ve thought about adding to this in the future as inspiration hits. I’ve also thought about developing a Rio x OFC fic and/or something for Beth x Rio. I’ve had a lot of fun writing and exploring his character so I’m nowhere near close to done. And I also need to shoutout the ladies from the discord for this part. They suggested it and I ran with it (as I do). So big thank you to @woahitslucyylu, @whatupitshuff, and @fvckthisbxtchup! You inspired this. Be proud of yourselves. Anyway, I hope you guys like it. Feedback is that good shit. 💗

*Read Part 1 here

*Read Part 2 here

*Read Part 3 here

*Read Part 4 here

*Read Part 5 here

*Give and Take series masterlist

*Masterlist in bio.

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

He sighed, turning off the engine and checking his phone one last time for messages. The restaurant lot was full, patrons shuffling in and out of the newest establishment in downtown Detroit. It was in a historic building that had obviously recently been renovated, though efforts had been made to keep its old world charm. The restaurant was a place he’d yet to visit and this impromptu pop-up offered the perfect opportunity for him to do so.

Rio exited his vehicle into the cool air of the night. It wasn’t frigid, but it was enough for those outside to don a jacket. He stuffed his hands into his pockets as he made his way to the entrance, noting the stylish fashions of most of the restaurant's occupants. He didn’t worry about the supposed dress code. Wearing black often gave him an air of sophistication, even with the tattoo splashed across his throat. It was a duality he’d mastered over the years. The tattoo kept him grounded to his roots. His nature. His business. The wardrobe kept him aligned with the civilian world. People would often eye his throat warily, suspicion clear in their gaze. But one look at the clean lines of his pressed shirt and somehow they’d come to the conclusion that he’d made a mistake as a young kid. Got involved in the wrong crowd. Hadn’t gotten around to getting the hideous atrocity on his neck removed. They believed what they wanted to believe.

Cowards.

He smiled at the passing elderly couple as he held the door open for them, their smiles making their eyes crinkle at the edges. They probably thought he worked there. He stepped through the threshold, taking in the dim lighting and soothing melody of jazz that filtered through the space. His eyes scanned the open area with practiced diligence until he found what he was looking for amongst the black booths that ran the length of the right wall. They were high and designed for privacy, but he could spot your face anywhere.

The hostess greeted him and he politely gestured to the booth you sat at, easing by the podium as she took a moment to trail her eyes along his body. He smirked at the blatant attempt at flirtation, not bothering to return the sentiment. Instead, he weaved through the aisles of tables as he made his way towards you.

Your brow was tensed, your lips pursed. The discomfort showed on your features, all the way down to your stiffened shoulders. He watched as you took a sip from your wine, nodding along to whatever the person across from you had said. When he came into view, your eyes widened, almost comically so. He grinned, finding your shock amusing. It was the exact reaction he was going for.

“Hey mama, sorry I’m late.” He announced as he made it to the table. He ignored the couple sitting with you and leaned down to press a kiss to your temple, feeling you sway into it despite your obvious surprise.

“Uh...h-hi.” You choked out, shifting over so that he could slip in next to you.

He shed his jacket as he sat down, pulling you close once he’d gotten comfortable. You let him maneuver you, still trying to understand why he was there. He could see the slight panic in your eyes, as if he were here for business purposes, crashing a dinner as a strategic move. But that couldn’t have been farther from the truth.

His eyes finally met Paul’s, your ex, and then slid over to his fiancé’s at his left. They both looked just as stunned as you, except for the displeasure that radiated from Paul’s gaze and onto him. His fiancé, Erica, he thought her name was, looked intrigued; curious about his arrival.

“Sup, man…” Rio greeted, extending his hand for Paul to take. He let it hang in the air for a moment, eyes trying to remain unflinching against his. After only a second, the man broke eye contact. He reluctantly took Rio’s hand and shook it, his palm sweaty and warm.

“Who is this?” Erica questioned after she realized no one was going to introduce him.

“Oh, um...sorry. This is Rio.” You replied shakily, looking at him as if trying to convince yourself that he wasn’t a figment of your imagination.

He noticed your nervousness and rested his left hand on your bare knee, gently squeezing in silent reassurance. He felt you relax immediately, your body uncoiling beside his and once again seeking out his touch.

“Nice to meet you.” Rio smoothly directed to Erica, taking her offered hand. She smiled back in return, her lips painted a vivid pink. It was a harsh shade and one that made her look like she’d been playing dress-up. He knew from the comments you’d made to him that Erica was not the woman you’d caught Paul with during your marriage. It’d been someone different. Someone from his firm. But you’d quickly pieced together that there had been many throughout the years. All slightly younger and the exact opposite to you in appearance.

Rio let his eyes covertly take in the woman across from him. She wasn’t unattractive. But she also wasn’t someone he’d ever think about leaving you for.

“You’ve met Paul. And this is Erica.” You stated, hand gesturing to the uncomfortable-looking couple across the table.

Rio nodded in their direction, Paul’s stare still unmoving. He sat straight and rigidly, the arm that sat around Erica’s shoulders now taut and awkward looking. He found satisfaction in that. He let his own arm rest comfortably across your shoulders, his fingers dancing along your upper arm in soothing patterns. He felt you shiver in response.

“We didn’t know you were coming.” Erica said with a smile, giggling for whatever reason.

“Oh yeah, last minute change of plans.” He propped his chin into his hand and met your eyes, seeing the relief in them.

You’d told him about the dinner three nights ago when he’d been at your house. He was in your bed, lounging against the headboard after he’d fucked you on the stairs. And then once again on the dining table. You were checking your phone, mumbling curses to yourself when he’d asked you what was wrong. You’d complained about your ex and how he was now suggesting a dinner alone with you and his fiancé to “talk some things over”. The whole thing seemed innocuous enough to him, but you’d insisted Paul had an ulterior motive, which according to you, never meant anything good. You’d been worried ever since. Anxious about having dinner alone with them and dreading the reason he wanted to meet.

Rio had funneled the information out, not giving it much thought because your ex was none of his business. But something had struck him the night before when you’d called. He’d been going over some of his books, mind completely focused on numbers, when his phone rang. You were in the bathtub, voice tinged with ease and alcohol. Just wanted to hear your voice, you’d said. And for some unknown reason, that sliver of vulnerability made his chest feel tight. He hadn’t stopped thinking about it since.

The newest development in your situation was slow-going. After that night in his car and the semi-proclamation of feelings, you’d both taken cues from the other, waiting for someone to speak up and declare...something. None of that had happened though. What had happened was amazing sex on the regular and sporadic outings to dine. He preferred not to call them dates because they really hadn’t been. They were usually moments right after a round of rigorous sex when neither of you had eaten. It was usually a decision agreed upon mutually and without fanfare. Just two people who were hungry and accompanying the other. The barest of human needs. Just like the sex. It was satiation.

But even he knew that there was an underlying current of unsaid words. Which is why your tipsy admission had startled him. For so long you’d both denied what was so obvious. It was practically a subconscious act now. And he realized, as long as he let you dictate the speed, you’d come to him. As long as he didn’t push or ask for more, you’d show up. And you had. So now, so was he.

“Something to drink?” The waiter asked, interrupting the tense moment.

“Vodka on the rocks, please.” Rio replied, the waiter nodding and disappearing into the fray.

“So, Rio…” Paul finally spoke up, clearing his throat as he straightened his tie. It seemed he’d found his voice. “I take it you don’t actually deal with home plumbing.” He said the sentence snidely and with a poignant glance in your direction. “So what is it that you do?” He finished, swirling the amber liquid in his glass.

He could feel you tense up beside him.

“I own a couple of businesses.”

“What kind of businesses?” Paul retorted, an eyebrow raised in doubt.

“The kind that do business.”

A moment of silence stretched out as Paul took in the nonanswer. Rio could see the wheels working in his head, see him weighing the pros and cons of arguing with him on the matter. The man opened his mouth, more than likely to continue to probe, but Erica beat him to the punch.

“How’d you guys meet?” She implored with an excited gleam, clearly hoping for a magical meet-cute moment that had never happened.

“Bar bathroom.” Rio said with a smug smile, enjoying the sputtered cough you expelled.

“He means outside of a bar bathroom. We sorta ran into each other.” You hastily lied, biting into your lip when his arm shifted off your shoulders and under the table, landing on your knee once again. He let his palm glide over the swatch of skin afforded to him by your dress, feeling your thighs clench together the higher he got.

“That’s adorable.” Eric chimed in, a genuine smile plastered on her pink lips. The same couldn’t be said for Paul, who looked as if he’d tasted something bitter.

Rio snickered because nothing about what either of you had been doing in the time since you’d met was adorable. It was the exact opposite. And he thrived off of it.

He turned his attention on you, hovering close to your ear, his fingers trailing along your inner thigh as he ignored the other diners at the table. “You good, mama?” He rasped, knowing what the action did to you.

Your eyes weren’t on him. They were shifting anxiously between Paul and Erica, concerned with the proximity of his lips and hand. Of course, they couldn’t see his arm disappearing beneath your dress, but they did notice the intimacy of the moment. Erica’s eyes looked on in admiration while Paul’s darted to anywhere but the two of you.

“Yeah.” You breathlessly replied, your own hand coming to rest on his. You squeezed and then set your gaze on his, reassuring him.

“You sure?”

His eyes flicked to your mouth, the flesh wet from both your lipstick and your tongue. He licked his own as he got lost in thoughts of tasting you.

You nodded, your eyes following the movements of his tongue, seemingly just as entranced as he was.

The moment was shattered with the waiter bringing Rio’s drink and taking food orders. It was for the better. He couldn’t very well fuck you on the table, though he’d save that fantasy for nights when he couldn’t have you.

Everyone kept the conversion polite and vague, choosing to stay away from certain topics. It was rigid and uncomfortable for everyone involved, unsurprisingly so. The subject transitioned to the kids, upcoming events and appointments being the main points. The food arrived and Rio busied himself with eating an exquisite dinner. The food was delicious and he had a fleeting thought about investing into something like this. He owned the bar and had arrangements with other small businesses, but he’d been hesitant to enter the restaurant realm. It was tricky. There were always new places offering something no other eatery could. He’d have to get with the owner, Joel Pinet. Rio knew him from around the neighborhood. His own bar was only a couple of blocks away and he’d met Joel on more than one occasion, the man a regular in his establishment.

“What’d you mean you won’t be here this summer?”

Your question brought him back to the moment, the irritation in your voice making him alert. His dark eyes settled on Paul as he twirled his fork in his pasta. The action annoyed Rio.

“Erica and I are going to Europe over the summer.”

“He promised to take me.” She chimed in, giddy and blissfully unaware of the anger mounting between the exes.

Your narrowed gaze bounced between the two, your irritation palpable. You were stiff as your spine straightened against the booth. “What about the kids? The summer is when they have time with you. They look forward to it.”

Paul raised his hand in a placating gesture and Rio noticed how your lips pinched together in response, as if physically restraining yourself from saying something. You were a better person than he was. The man across from him was barely that, and barely one that deserved your attention, much less the wasted love of a ruined marriage.

“I’ll make it up to them. But we’ve had this trip planned for months.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me that?”

“Because I knew how you’d react.”

“Yeah, because the summer is your time, Paul.”

Paul sighed, as if frustrated with your reasonable argument. “So we’ll switch. You’ve had to have my help with alternating weekends when stuff comes up.”

“For work. Not a trip to fucking Europe.” You seethed, voice low but spewing with venom.

Rio only looked on, silently admiring your ability to not beat the guy’s ass. He deserved it. He was a piece of shit husband and an even bigger piece of shit father.

“The kids will be fine. We’ll be gone for a few weeks and then they can come stay with us for the remainder of the summer.” He brushed off your concerns, seeing no real issue with forgoing time with his children to peruse foreign streets.

Rio scoffed at the boldness. The action didn’t go unnoticed.

“Something to say?” Paul directed at him, his chest posturing in a show of male dominance.

Rio laughed lowly, amused by the man’s antics. How you’d ever ended up with someone like that was a mystery to him. After seeing your determination, your fire, Rio had been enthralled. He’d recognized something raw inside of you. Something that matched him. Outwardly, you appeared to be opposites. Strangers from two different worlds. But inside you were more alike than either of you really understood. There was something waiting to be uncaged within you. Waiting for a reason to be unleashed. He was going to get you there. Because you deserved to see your potential, even if the bitch of a man across from you didn’t.

“Nah man...you clearly got the situation under control.” Rio taunted, the sarcasm dripping from his words. He clenched his jaw and swallowed, two sets of eyes watching the bird at his throat move. It was his own alpha display. His own performance of just who king dick was. And it wasn’t your ex.

When it was clear that Paul wasn’t going to rise to the occasion, Rio drained the last of his drink and turned to face you. He lowered his lips to your ear and spoke so only you could hear.

“You ready to go, darlin’?”

“Yeah.” You said with a sharp nod of your head, chin held high in reproach towards the man opposite you.

Rio stood, grabbing his jacket and helping you slide out of your seat. His eyes never wavered from Paul’s as he did. You smoothed out your dress, clutching your purse and not bothering to acknowledge the couple at all. He dug into his pocket for his wallet and made a show of grabbing a few crisp hundred dollar bills. He pulled out two and threw them on the table.

“Dinner’s on me. Keep the change, yeah?” He offered with a smirk, letting his hand come to rest on your lower back. He led you away, keeping his touch secured to you as you stepped into the night.

You released a sigh immediately and then inhaled, eyes closing as if centering yourself. He watched you closely, wondering if he’d see tears in your eyes when you opened them. Instead, he saw amusement. A laugh erupted from your throat, your chest shaking as the volume grew with each passing second. He only watched, entertained by the sound. For the first time that evening, he let his eyes trail along your body. Your dress was black and velvet, hitting just below the knee. There was a small slit up the side, exposing the smooth flesh of your thigh. A tie was cinched around your waist, accentuating your figure, while short sleeves helped stave off the chill in the air. The entirety of you was elegant...captivating, and far too striking to be meeting up with your ex-husband for dinner.

Your laughter died down when you noticed his gaze. You stepped towards him, holding your purse in front of you so that your cleavage pulled his focus. He licked his lips and waited as you crowded his space, your perfume swirling into a fog around him. He studied your face, noting the tiny details he often overlooked. You were beautiful, a fact that never went unnoticed by him, but sometimes he forgot just how much. And he wondered if you’d always been this attractive or if it was just the blinding haze of attraction that made him think so. Either way, he didn’t really care. It didn’t change how much he ached to fuck you.

“How’d you know where I’d be?”

“I got my ways.” He offered, taking in the way your lashes fluttered at him. It was a familiar tell. One he’d come to associate with you flat on your back and gazing up at him, usually with his cock buried to the hilt inside of you.

“Thank you.” You whispered, sobering for a second so that he could read the honesty across your features. There was that vulnerability again. And his chest tightened just as it had the previous night.

“No problem.”

You took a step back and waited as he began to follow you to your car. You’d parked along the side of the building and he noted how full the lot still was. You halted once you noticed his SUV next to your car, stopping at the bumper and turning to face him.

“Your car?” You asked, nodding in the direction of the black G Wagon.

He wordlessly nodded, once again using the moment to appreciate the way your dress hugged your frame. He appraised your black heels and the deep red polish that adorned your toes, remembering that last time he’d seen you they’d been a light pink. He waited and watched as you walked to the passenger side of his car, fitting yourself in the space between the two vehicles.

“How tinted are your windows?” You asked, the innocence in your words making him suspicious. “Like no one can see in kind of tinted?”

You stared at him as you waited for his reply, biting your bottom lip in a way that could only be described as seductive.

“Yeah, why?”

You grinned, pleased with his answer. His face remained expressionless as you looked around the lot, the area void of other people. You slowly reached under your dress, careful not to expose yourself. Your hands disappeared under the skirt and then reappeared a second later, a scrap of dark green lace trailing down your legs. Your gaze stayed on him as you stepped out of the underwear and dangled them on your fingers, a proud grin making its way onto your lips. You flung the panties in his direction and he caught them against his chest.

“Open the door.” You softly demanded, gesturing to the rear passenger seat.

Rio let your words hang in the air, taking satisfaction in seeing you begin to squirm. There was doubt in your eyes, like perhaps he’d turn you down. You hadn’t caught on to the fact that he could do no such thing.

He took mercy on you, figuring you’d had enough unease for the night and found the key in his jacket pocket, hitting the button. The lights of the car flashed as the vehicle unlocked itself. You sent him a playful smile as you got in without another word, the door closing behind you with a resounding echo. He chuckled and shook his head, biting his lip as he pocketed your panties and walked to the other side of the vehicle. He got in, sliding in next to you and discarding his jacket along the way. He seated himself in the middle and you immediately straddled his lap. His hands found their way under your dress, skimming the soft planes of your thighs.

“So that’s what it takes, huh?” He whispered against your lips, leaning into your touch that ran along the back of his neck.

“What?”

“Me being a dick to your ex. That’s what it takes.” He supplied, hands gliding further under your dress until they began massaging your ass. You moaned at the sensation, eyes fluttering shut as you ground down onto his crotch.

“Takes a little more than that.” You insisted, your hips rocking against his in a sensual rhythm.

“Let me see.” He gruffly commanded, chin angling to the hem of your dress that was bunched around your thighs.

You stilled your hips and did as he requested, lifting the fabric and exposing your bare slit to his hungry eyes. He could see the evidence of your arousal, even in the dark. Your pussy glistened in the muted light of the night, swollen and needy for him like aloe to a scathing burn. He reached forward and ran his index finger along your opening, making you jump at the contact. He instantly became drenched in you, the clear stickiness coating his finger. Your hips searched for a firmer hand, wordlessly begging him to slip past your lips.

“You seem plenty wet for me already, ma.” He taunted, letting his finger press against your clit. You gasped and bit your lip, nails digging into the tops of his shoulders.

“Rio...please,” You pleaded, chasing his touch every time it disappeared from your body.

His dick twitched at the sound of his name falling from your parted lips. It was something you’d only recently started doing, using his name in bed. He was addicted to the sound of it. You always said it with desperation and longing, usually while clinging to him in trembling pleasure.

“What do you need?”

You gripped his wrist and directed his finger into your waiting walls in response. He was overcome with heat and slick immediately. You both released moans that signaled just what it did to you to be so intimately joined.

“That what you need, baby?” He added another finger while his thumb continued to massage your clit. He could feel you clench around him, nipping at your chin as your moans turned to whimpers.

“More.”

“Let me see all of you.” He ordered, his free hand pulling at the neckline of your dress.

You dutifully obeyed, pulling your arms out of the garment and slipping it down to rest around your waist. The same shade of green that had adorned your lower half also encased your breasts, the lace affording him glimpses of your hardened nipples. He curled his fingers inside of you in reciprocation, reaching up to mouth at your neck. Your hands held him to you, running along his scalp and sending bolts of electricity straight to his dick. He shifted his hips in search of friction, feeling the warmth from between your thighs calling to him.

“Feel good?”

“Yes…” You breathed, unclasping your bra and hurriedly pulling the lace away. He followed your lead and trailed wet kisses across your flesh, his tongue reaching out to taste you. You pushed your chest into him in return.

“You can take more, right mama?” He urged, not bothering to wait for your answer. He added another finger, his movements speeding up as he reached that sweet spot deep within.

“Fuck, fuck…” You cursed, riding his fingers while he sucked at your nipple.

He worked your body like a fine-tuned car, hitting each switch with expert precision. He could read your face, gauge the tension in your limbs the further he brought you to the edge. His guilty pleasure was watching you cum, watching you uninhibited and practically blessing his very existence. He knew if he flicked his wrist more to the left and pressed down on your clit at the same time that you’d call out his name. He knew if he bit down on your breast he’d be rewarded with your pussy fluttering around him. He knew if he told you how good you looked, how good you felt, you’d cum...and hard.

“You look so good like this. Like you belong to me.” He praised. You gasped, throwing your head back, and he knew you were close. “Who gets you like this? Who makes you feel this good?”

“You do.”

“That’s right. No one else.” He affirmed, thrusting his fingers as rapidly as he could at that angle. The muscles in your thighs twitched as you came, tightening around his fingers in a way that made him long for it to be his dick instead. He let you ride out the ecstasy, your body rocking into the stiffness pressed along his zipper. Your head was thrown back, your mouth agape as a litany of cries and moans filtered through the air. He could make out the rasp of his name amongst the sounds. He could feel the surge of moisture as it slid down his hand. You were enraptured; a victim to his touch.

He waited until your body had stilled, the aftershocks having long passed, before he slipped from your clutches. He caught your hooded gaze and slowly took his slickened fingers into his mouth, your essence exploding onto his tongue. He savored you, taking in the way your chest expanded with each breath. Your fingers curled into his shirt and dragged along his chest, your hips dropping down to grind into him. He barely had enough time to remove his fingers before you were pulling his lips to yours. Your tongue coaxed his into your mouth and he could taste the remnants of the wine you’d drank. The alcohol mixed with you, creating an erotic elixir, one that had him intoxicated. He hissed against your lips, bucking his hips when you unzipped his pants and licked your palm in a show of lustful desire.

“I need you. Inside.” You panted between kisses, situating your pussy over him as you stroked his throbbing flesh.

Rio slid his hand up between your breasts and grasped your neck, feeling your pulse jump. He tilted your chin towards him and ensured your eyes were nowhere else but on him.

“Put me in. Go slow.” He squeezed his fingers around your throat as you moved, angling the head of his cock along your folds. You released a shaky breath as you eased him into you, gaze not wavering. He rested against the seat as he took in the view, licking his lips. He tsked and maneuvered your chin back in position when your eyes began to close, the fullness of him stretching you tight.

“Keep going, mama. All of it.”

You held his forearm, the one still attached to your neck, as you bottomed out, your ass finally meeting his thighs. Your pussy sucked him, walls gripping him with an unforgiving strength. You both remained still, relishing the myriad of sensations that assaulted your restless bodies.

“Touch yourself.”

You worked your hands over his arm, cupping your breasts at his request. Your movements mirrored his, matching the force and pressure of how he usually touched you. He was transfixed by you. Utterly lost in the way your body begged for him and still wanted more. He respected your greediness. Could understand the need for more once a craving had been satisfied. It was the business he was in. He was an expert on the matter. And he’d deliver for you.

His left hand dug into the flesh of your ass in a show of impatience. You caught on and started to move, leaning down to nibble at his throat. Your pace was languid, almost lazy as you swiveled your hips. Each down thrust had you rubbing your clit along his pelvic bone, triggering your pussy to spasm.

“Rio...”

There was a warning in your tone. He could hear it clearly as you bounced on his cock, the plea almost drowned out by the slapping of bodies.

“Shit, already?” He asked, somewhat surprised at the rate at which your body was responding to him. He let both of his hands fall to your ass, directing you forward so that he could thrust. You whimpered into his ear as his hips pushed up and into you, hitting deep. You clamped down around him, making him squeeze his eyes shut.

“Right there. Don’t stop.” You gasped, face buried into his neck as he slapped your ass. The hit made you convulse. So he did it again.

The closing in of your walls made him double his efforts. He secured his arm around your waist and held you steady. He kept your pussy at his desired angle as he fucked you, hearing that hitch in your breath that let him know you were on the cusp of orgasm.

“M’gonna cum.” You slurred, primal lust making the words run together. His dick swelled inside of you, his balls tightening with every desperate breath you expelled. He could feel that familiar tingle at the base of his spine start to expand, signaling to him what was coming next. He worked his hand between your bodies, gathering moisture and ravaging your clit. You jerked in surprise, yelping when his touch didn’t retreat or ease up.

“Too much.”

“Nah, you take it, ma. You take it and you cum for me.” Rio provoked, forcing you to abide by his commands.

Seconds later you were doing as he said once again, cumming on his cock with a force that made him grit his teeth. Your body shuddered as barely intelligible words floated from your lips. You nuzzled further into him while he continued to chase his own release. He dug his fingers into your hips and thrust, the rapid speed making the car sway. He could already tell the windows were fogged up, the stench of sex permeating the air. You were boneless as you sat astride him, your soft moans of residual pleasure going straight to his dick, luring him off the edge.

“Fuck,” He growled, feeling the eletric shocks of climax start to claim him. He closed his eyes and buried his face into the crook of your neck, teeth biting down into the otherwise unblemished skin. He held you firm as he emptied his cum and filled you, rivulets already beginning to spill from your connected bodies. His chest moved with the rapid beats of his heart as the entire moment culminated into a drug-level euphoria.

Minutes ticked by as you both struggled to catch your breath and calm your racing hearts. Rio felt you ghost a kiss along his jaw; a low, satisfied laugh making him smirk.

“You think anyone heard us?” You asked, beginning to shift in his arms.

Beyond the fogged windows, the lot was still without people. But who knew who’d walked by in the meantime. The SUV wasn’t necessarily equipped to withhold sound, though it could cause a bullet to ricochet.

“Probably.” He let you sit up, eyes falling to your still naked chest. You both seemed to have an affinity for fucking in public spaces.

You eased forward to kiss him, the action much more intimate than it’d been moments ago. Your fingers trailed along his jaw and combed through his facial hair, a gesture he secretly loved. His own hands skimmed your back, eliciting shivers that radiated down your body.

“I didn’t ask you to do this.” You whispered once you’d pulled away, eyes imploring him to understand what you meant.

He did. He knew what this kind of gesture meant. He’d been truthful in confessing his want for you. It was a selfish need. Something that grew because you’d continuously denied him. And then it’d shattered before it’d even had a chance to become anything. And during that time he’d admitted to himself that he was willing to compromise. To follow your rules. And as a boss who ran his own shit by his own decree, it was difficult to come to terms with. But he’d done it. Why? Because something told him it’d be worth it. Whether for the great sex or the companionship.

Time would tell.

He ran his finger along your cheek, observing the way you fell into the touch. “You didn’t have to.” He assured you, meaning every word.

“Thank you.”

“You already thanked me, darlin’.”

“Well, thank you again.” You smiled, pressing your chest to his.

“Call it even.” He joked, gesturing to the state of your bodies still twisted around each other.

“Let’s get some pizza.” You suggested suddenly, pulling the sleeves of your dress back up, sans bra.

He laughed at both your words and the fact that you were getting dressed with his dick still sheathed inside you. “You hungry?”

“I didn’t get to finish my dinner.” You reminded him, retying the tassel around your waist. His hands sluggishly skimmed your thighs, stopping to squeeze whenever you suddenly straightened. “Oh, what about that food truck you took me to last week? The one with the fried mac and cheese?”

Rio took in your enthusiasm, finding it endearing. He didn’t have to use words to figure out where your head was at in all this. It was written on your face. In your voice. Beaming from your eyes and seeping from your pores. And like so many other things between you, it would go unsaid. For now. Because that’s just how it was. And maybe it was fucked up. But it didn’t invalidate any of the chemistry between you. Words just...weren’t needed. And that was sort of how it had always been.

“I got you.” He assured, patting your ass as he did. You beamed at him, not knowing that his words ran much deeper than a meal.

Rio Tags:

@tomhardydallasstarsgirl

@thebookisbtr

@beardburnsupersoldiers

@nina-nkl

@gemini0410

#rio #rio good girls #good girls rio #rio x reader #rio x you #rio imagine #rio fanfiction #rio fanfic #nbc good girls #good girls nbc

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dawn-moths · 3 years

Text

“A Storm Pairs Well With A Cerulean Gaze”

CHAPTER 1

Touya/Dabi x Female Reader

word count: 11,000+

part 1 * part 2 * part 3 * part 4 * part 5 * part 6

(a quirkless AU where you’re a college student and Dabi works as a hitman for Tomura’s crime syndicate. But Dabi is only the name he uses at work. To you, after he finds you passed out in an alley in the bad parts of town and brings you in, he’s just Touya. He’s just a tall, beautiful, tattooed stranger who’s spent his entire life building up a wall. But, the closer you get to him, little by little, the wall starts to crumble. Touya just doesn’t know how long it’ll take for himself to knock the rest of it down.)

disclaimer/content warning: some sexual content, nothing too graphic yet, Touya is kind of a dick at first but slowly softens up to you, this is angsty as fuck, drug use, mention of a dead parent, violence, abusive behavior.

***

The pavement was still wet from the recent rainfall. As you stumbled down the alley, the lights of the city reflecting off the ground from above shimmered and swayed. You couldn’t stop staring at them, the shivering lights always just ahead of you like they were trying to run away.

Or trying to guide you towards something.

Your foot found a puddle amidst your distraction, soaking your converse sneaker and making you click your tongue in annoyance at yourself. But it was soon forgotten, the drugs you’d taken just before leaving your college campus to come downtown clouding your mind again.

Was it painkillers you’d taken this time? Sleeping pills? Fuck. You couldn’t even remember that much at this point.

But you knew you had to keep walking. Because the moment you stopped you’d be down for the count, passed out in a part of the city you couldn’t get around without maps on your phone and left at the mercy of whatever breed of shifty character sniffed you out first.

But it was nearly morning now, the sun soon to rise, and you’d been out all night, head spinning and spinning and spinning with all the fear and uncertainty and doubt until you’d done the thing that you always told yourself you weren’t going to do anymore and took those pills you’d saved up from who knows where or what.

And you were so, so tired. Mentally and physically.

Just five minutes, you convinced yourself. I’ll just rest for five minutes and then…

But you never finished the thought.

You stumbled over towards the wall before coming out the other end of the alley, just barely catching yourself only to have your whole world spin and your vision go black as gravity pulled your body to the grimy asphalt.

And, just like you’d feared, there was a shifty character already on your trail. The only thing was he didn’t know it yet.

Touya strolled down the alley, one hand shoved into the pocket of his ripped black jeans and the other positioned at his lips with a cigarette between two fingers. He always had a smoke after a job. He had to. It was the only way to clear his head once the deed was done.

This cigarette was nearly finished, having worn it down his entire walk home from the warehouse in the abandoned district where he’d just added another strike to his ever growing tally of men he’d killed.

The sleeves of his leather jacket were still rolled up to his elbows, the black ink that covered a majority of his skin in curving lines and graffitied markings more exposed than usual. I mean, not that anyone could miss them even if his arms were covered.

His tattoos not only covered his arms. But his legs, back, chest, neck, and some had even crawled their way up to his face, sprinkled under his eyes or down his cheeks and chin.

Touya appeared as a terrifying man to most, enemy or stranger, but when he noticed the heap of clothing that was your body crumpled up at the end of the alleyway, his villainous persona stuttered for a moment.

“The fuck…?” he muttered with the cigarette between his teeth, stopping before you and staring down at you for a second before lightly nudging your shoulder with the toe of his rubber-soled lace up combat boots.

He looked up and down the alley, as if searching for someone to claim this abandoned puppy, but saw no one. “Uhh… Ok…?”

He took one last drag of his cigarette before tossing down the butt and stomping it out, coming back over to kneel down closer to your level. You slept peacefully, completely unaware that a vulture was hovering just overhead.

His condo was literally around the corner.

Touya sighed. “Fuck… Am I really fuckin’ doin’ this right now?” he asked himself before hesitantly placing a hand on your shoulder, rolling you over onto your back, head lolling to one side, completely unconscious. He then scooped you up from the pavement, one arm tucked under the back of your knees while the other rested behind the crook of your neck. You lay limply like a ragdoll in his arms, head bouncing a bit with every step he took towards his front door.

“You’re gonna pay for this one, Touya…” he continued to grumble under his breath as he carefully fished for his keys in his pocket without dropping you and unlocked the door. He knew that no good deed went unpunished but, for as long as it had been since he’d even considered doing anything that could even be defined as remotely good, he wasn’t completely heartless either.

Touya brought you over to the couch and lay you there, making sure that your neck wasn’t left at an odd angle and that you weren’t going to roll over and fall off. Then he went back to switch on the lights, the first floor of the condo illuminating after a short flicker.

For such a shitty neighborhood, Touya’s condo was nice, all things considered. It was better than the dingy, cramped basement apartment that he’d been squatting in before going to work for Tomura, at least.

The condo had a modern yet industrial aesthetic to it, the color palette mostly consisting of neutrals with a minimalist style. There was a black iron staircase leading to a second floor, where his bedroom was, but for as exhausted as he was after a night out of his own, he decided to stay and wait until you woke up.

He had to be able to make sure he kicked you out before you could go snooping around. Or even worse, find him vulnerable and asleep upstairs.

No. Touya wasn’t vulnerable in front of anyone. The only time he let his guard down was when he was alone in his condo.

But as the sun rose higher in the sky and the hands on the wall clock above the kitchen sink passed one hour, then another, then another…

He was beginning to think maybe he’d been too late and perhaps you were now a corpse on his couch instead of a girl.

“Shit…” he clicked his tongue, coming closer to inspect your state of well being. If you were dead, he had to dump you back in that alley before anyone realized that he had you or had anything to do with you in general. The morning rush would start soon and more people would begin to walk the streets. Then it wouldn’t matter who found you. He just couldn’t be involved.

But as he got closer he could register the slow but steady rise and fall of your chest.

Thank god… he sighed mentally, then hung his head in exhaustion once more. But just how long were you going to sleep for?

By the time eight AM was approaching, Touya found it in him to get up and walk into the kitchen, which was open to the living room where he could still at least glance over his shoulder to peek at you while he brewed a cup of black coffee. This was going to be a longer morning than he’d originally intended and he wasn’t getting any sleep, so he might as well start the day.

But finally, your eyelids began to flutter open, squinting a bit at the early morning brightness coming in through the windows and then blinking the tears from your vision. You could smell the coffee being brewed, swallowing a few times as you found your mouth dry.

Where… am I…? You slowly began to wonder, still a little out of it. But as soon as you heard the clinking of dishes being moved around in the sink you were snapped awake, frozen in fear as you lay on the couch, eyes wide and back facing the noise so that you couldn’t see what stranger had dragged you off the streets.

You waited like that for a while, unsure of what to do, but as the sounds in the kitchen continued, a cough peppered throughout all the shifting and clinking here and there, you gained enough courage to slowly sit up, peering over the top of the couch while still trying to keep a majority of your body huddled out of sight. You blinked your eyes again a few more times at the sight of the stranger’s back.

His hair was jet-black, almost with a faint bluish tint to it, like ink, and his skin a milky white, almost translucent. Having tossed his leather jacket over one of the chairs, more of his tattoos were exposed, winding their way out from under his white t-shirt, part of it tucked into his belt while the rest hung free.

Just who had rescued you?

Or… you then thought with a new kind of dread, who was going to make you pay for rescuing you…?

It was then that he caught the top of your head out of his peripheral vision and turned his head to view you over his shoulder again. Your eyes went wide once more and you froze, heart hammering against your ribcage in anticipation.

“Finally,” the tall, thin stranger sighed, turning his head back to finish clearing up the dishes in the sink. “You’re awake.”

He might’ve been in a position to take his eyes off you, but you were most certainly not in a position to take your eyes off him. He’d just barely shown you his face but you were soon to see it in full view as he grabbed his cup of boiling hot coffee and came to sit on the sofa across from yours again.

Your eyes followed him like a hawk, not taking any chances, as if you even stood a chance if he tried anything. But he just simply sipped at his drink, half-lidded cobalt gaze stuck on you in a way that wasn’t quite predatory, but still testing you, waiting to see what you’d do.

“Um… Where am I?” you finally forced yourself to ask, the silence in the room beginning to suffocate you.

“Doesn’t matter,” he replied in between sips. “You’re leaving now. So go on,” he gestured with a lazy nod of his head towards the door. “Get out.”

“But…!” you went to protest, the rest of the sentence getting caught in your throat, urgency lost. “But, um… I…” You looked away, too intimidated by his striking eyes and mysterious beauty to hold his stare any longer. “I don’t even know where I am… Or how I got here, really…”

He cracked the tiniest smirk, scoffing as he said, “The fuck did you take?”

You looked back up at him then, guilt and panic swimming in your eyes.

Shit. How does he know?

But how couldn’t he know? Sober people don’t just pass out in alleys and sleep for hours completely unaware of anything going on around them. Not to mention he’d used to be a pretty heavy user himself.

“Uh…” You looked away again, lightly scratching at the back of your neck and twisting a finger into your tangled hair. “I don’t really know… I just wanted to sleep but…”

But your roommate had asked to have the room that night, her boyfriend paying her a visit, and, not really having the energy to argue about it with her again, you obliged. You swallowed your pills and left the dorm, just wanting to go somewhere to be alone.

Now I remember…

“You don’t know,” he scrutinized with a raise of one eyebrow, clearly not buying it. But he didn’t care too much because before you could say something back he was telling you to leave again.

“Um, but… What’s your name?” you asked, immediately kicking yourself for being so stupid. Why did you care? Just leave. Get out of here before…

“Alright, no,” he shook his head, standing and heading towards the door. “We’re not doing that. So get up and get out.” He swung open the front door, holding it there and staring at you where you were still seated on the couch, peering over it again to face him. “I’ve had a long night and I don’t have time for this.”

You attempted to swallow the lump that had formed in your throat but found it hard, mouth still dry. You could go for a cup of coffee right now too.

But you got up like he told you to and slowly shuffled closer to the door, hands wringing together inside your hoodie pocket. Standing just before the doorway, this mysterious and beautiful man glaring down at you, you managed to stutter out, “W-well… I-I really don’t know where I am or how to get back and… Um…”

Touya continued to stare at you coldly, but that was only to buy himself time as he weighed the pros and cons of the “punishment” part of his good deed. What he should do is tell you that’s tough shit and maybe don’t go using drugs before stumbling into the wrong parts of town. That’s what he would’ve told anyone else. And he would’ve done it without hesitation too. But what he told you instead was, “Alright. Where do you live? I’ll take you back but that’s it. I’m done after that.”

Your heart beat fluttered a bit at his sudden offer, even if his voice still did sound cruel and like you were a waste of his time.

“I go to the university in the center of the city,” you told him. “You can just drop me off there…”

“Alright,” he sighed again, crossing back over into the kitchen to grab his leather jacket, the keys to his motorcycle zipped up in the inside pocket. “C’mon, let’s go.”

You followed him back out onto the streets, the pavement nearly dry now as the sun soaked up the remnants of the storm, sunlight warm and golden as it hit your faces. The sky was presenting itself as clear today and you hoped it would stay that way. Even when you were in one of your moods, it was harder to stay upset when it was a nice day.

You followed him around to the side of the building to the lot, a few cars parked and one motorcycle perched. You tried to guess which one was his but the moment he passed all three cars, heading for the bike, you nearly rolled your eyes at your obliviousness.

Of course it’s the motorcycle.

“Get on,” he ordered sharply, revving the engine once and making you flinch. You’d never been on a motorcycle before but had been told your whole life how dangerous they were. When you hesitated, he snapped at you again to hurry up, that you were already wasting his time, and then you did as he said. Guess you have no choice, but as you wrap your arms around his waist and he takes off, speeding back towards the heart of the city, your only regret is not doing this sooner.

It feels amazing, the wind whipping through your hair as he weaves skillfully in and out of the rush hour traffic. It feels more than amazing. It makes you feel alive.

But the excitement is over as the first building of your university comes into view. Only a few more minutes until you’re dumped back onto the curb and forced to carry on with your same daily routine.

Touya pulled up to the entrance of the university, a patronizing breath of a laugh escaping his nostrils as he looked up at the name of the prestigious college. He tells you to get off, but you hesitate again, really pushing your luck.

“Um… W-won’t you at least tell me your name?” you inquire again, fingers back to fidgeting with one another as you remain on the back of his bike.

He sighs audibly, clearly irritated with your questions and just the fact that you’re talking to him in general, but gives in this time.

“It’s Touya,” he says. “Now get off my bike.”

You step onto the sidewalk and without saying another word, Touya veers around with a screech on his bike and speeds away. You watch him go and he doesn’t look back.

But why would he?

You were nothing more than an inconvenience to him.

Once he’s out of sight, only then do you turn and continue towards your dorm, heart still racing with the aftermath of the encounter.

Touya… you think to yourself, trying and failing to suppress a small smile. His cobalt blue glare flashes through your mind again, the image of the black ink on white skin, spiky black hair with just the faintest tint of blue when the light hits it just right.

You can’t get him out of your head, no matter how hard you try. Through every lecture you attend, every study session, every club meeting, his image won’t leave you. You’re being drawn to him, despite his standoffish attitude and cold words, and you know, as much as you’re currently refusing to admit it to yourself, that you’ll try to find your way to him again.

Even if that means risking your safety to do it.

***

Touya couldn’t wait to get home and finally, finally, god, finally fall into bed. He doubted he’d actually be able to sleep. Hardly could during most nights, let alone days. But at least he could rest. In fact, he’d probably take a page from your book and medicate beforehand, ensuring that he’d be relaxed enough to at least lay still for an hour or two.

But, like always, there was still work to be done. Just because he’d finished a job didn’t mean he was actually done yet. He still had to report it to his boss, Tomura. Still had to show him the proof that the target had been eliminated, as if the scent of smoke in his hair and the ash that smudged his boots weren’t proof enough.

So Touya did what Touya did best, besides burning people alive for betraying Tomura’s organization or, sometimes, for something as simple as giving his boss the wrong look. He shifted into something else, someone else.

Because Touya was the person who could pick an unconscious girl out of the alley and guard her in his home until he made sure she was ok. Touya couldn’t be the same person who reveled in the agonizing shrieks of men meeting a very slow, very painful end. Touya couldn’t be the one who heard the strike of a match like music to his ears, always looking forward to seeing the way the flames traveled up the line of gasoline to ignite the body tied to the chair in the middle of the empty concrete warehouse.

No. That person had a different name.

That person was called Dabi.

“You’re late,” Tomura grumbled the moment Dabi walked into his office.

“Yeah, well…” Dabi sighed with a shrug as he practically fell into the chair sitting across from Tomura’s desk. “I ran into some trouble.”

“Trouble?” Tomura pressed, eyes squinting in distrust. “What trouble?”

“Nothing that has to do with the job,” Dabi assured his boss with a dismissive wave of his hand. “In fact, the job went off without a hitch. Even got some information outta the bastard before I lit ‘im up.”

“Good,” Tomura replied evenly, a stern nod in accompaniment. He laced his fingers together in front of him, elbows resting on top of his marble desk. “Now, onto the next one.”

Dabi had to remind himself not to roll his eyes directly in front of his boss’s line of vision. Tomura worked him far too hard. There were never any days off. It was always new job, track the target, deal with the target, maybe get another name, report to Tomura, repeat. No wonder Touya was always so exhausted. Keeping up with Dabi was a job in and of itself.

“I got three names outta him this time,” Dabi elaborated, slouching forward in his chair a bit, leaning closer to Tomura as if he was telling him a secret. “And, I won’t lie, there was one I think I recognized and it’s not good.”

“Who?” Tomura asked curtly.

“You’re not gonna like it.” Dabi shook his head. He knew Tomura hated when he didn’t get to the point. Call it his only way of getting back at his boss for all the overtime.

“Tell. Me.” Dabi knew not to make his boss ask again.

“You ever heard of anyone goin’ by the moniker, Overhaul?” The moment the name left Dabi’s mouth he had his answer. Tomura’s face screwed up with blatant distaste. He hadn’t just heard of Overhaul but had quite the colorful history with the man.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me…” Tomura growled under his breath, mouth pressed against his dry hands as he scowled and glanced around the room while his mind raced.

“It’s Chisaki, isn’t it?” Dabi questioned further, though, again, he knew the answer already.

Tomura’s cold, scarlet gaze flicked back to meet Dabi’s for only a moment, eyebrows still knit together in frustration. “Oh, it’s him, alright.” Tomura stood from his desk, hands still placed firmly on the top, staring down at the space in between them, eyes darting back and forth. “That fucking traitor thought that I wouldn’t find him…” A crazed smile spread across his chapped lips, eyes going wide with bloodlust. “He thought that he’d get off scot free and just ride into the sunset, didn’t he?”

Dabi just sat and watched with boredom as his boss went on about how the former member of his own organization had wronged him.

Kai Chisaki had been by Tomura’s side since he rose to power within the most prominent gang inside— or outside— the city. That was, until a few years ago when Chisaki had sold his boss out for a hefty paycheck, one that he knew Tomura would never be able to counter.

Tomura had sworn to ruin the man ever since.

No. Not just ruin him.

He’d sworn to end him.

Though, Dabi knew that when push came to shove, the blood would be on his hands.

“So, what do you wanna do?” Dabi asked through a yawn, roughly combing his tattooed hands through his inky black hair. “You want me to go now or…?”

“No. No, not now…” Tomura shook his head, beginning to pace behind his desk, scratching at his neck irritably, fingernails still caked deep with blood and dead, flaky skin from the last time. “We’ll get him when the time’s right. But not before then. If he sees us coming it’s all over.”

“Ok… That it then?” Dabi asked with his head cocked, dying to get out of here and just go home already.

Tomura dismissed him, telling him that he’d be in touch but to make sure and stay on his game until then. No overdoing it with the drugs or the drinking.

“And, jesus, get some rest,” Tomura nearly sneered, scrunching his nose up like he was disappointed in Dabi’s neglectful sleep schedule. “You look like shit.”

Dabi slapped his hands on his knees, pushing off himself to stand. “Way ahead ‘a ya, boss,” he replied with a drone as he slinked towards the door. “Way ahead ‘a ya…”

***

“Where were you last night?” your roommate had asked with judgement when you’d first entered your dorm. Funny. You didn’t think she cared about anything to do with you other than how long you were willing to give her and her boyfriend the right to fuck in the dorm room.

“At a friend’s house,” you’d lied. “I know a commuter who lives nearby.”

Your roommate seemed to shrug it off, not caring enough to press further, and for once you were glad for her indifference towards you.

Besides, even if you did tell her about the beautiful, tall, ink-covered stranger, it’s not like she would’ve believed you.

And so you carried on through your class schedule, one day passing with the man called Touya weighing heavy on your mind, then two, then three…

And then…

Well, and then you just couldn’t take it any longer.

It was raining again the day you decided to set out back towards the shadier parts of town, a light drizzle. But the black clouds that loomed in the distance told you it wasn’t going to stay that way.

You could remember most of how you’d gotten yourself to that alley before passing out, though, you still couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe you ought to dose up again and see if you could rely on muscle memory.

But ever since you’d met Touya, been rescued by him, in a sense, you hadn’t felt the need to numb yourself to your own thoughts. He was the first thing in, well, in you didn’t even know how long that actually made you want to think.

Now, instead of letting anxiety rock you to sleep, you had him.

Or at least the image of him.

You knew it was around here somewhere, recognizing a few signs you’d passed before slipping into a hazy state of mind, trusting your sense of direction until you were pretty sure you found the alley.

If you were right, then the condo should be…

“Huh? What are you doing here?” Touya was standing on his little front porch just finishing a cigarette and looked less than thrilled to see you, though he didn’t immediately turn his back and go inside, so you figured that was better than nothing.

“I-I was just walking…” you lied. You seemed to be lying a lot lately, even if they seemed harmless.

“Well you shouldn’t be in this part of town alone,” he lightly scolded you as he put out his cigarette on the metal railing surrounding the porch, flicking it off onto the sidewalk. “Didn’t I tell you that already?”

“Or what?” you challenged with a smirk. This reaction made a quick look of surprise flash across Touya’s face before it morphed back into a cold expression.

“Or what? Are you fucking serious?” He snapped, and your confident grin fell. “Or you’ll be found by the wrong kind of person and live to regret it! Or who fucking knows, maybe they’ll just kill you when they’re done with you.”

You gulped, stomach sinking with fear. You didn’t think this neighborhood was that bad. Though, now that you thought about it, you had yet to see another pretty girl like yourself just casually walking about at any time of day around here.

“Why do you have so many?” you asked, coming to stand at the bottom of the concrete steps, looking up at Touya who was leaning back against the railing.

“So many what?” he sighed, tilting his head back and letting the misty rain fall over his face, sticking to his hair and lashes as he closed his eyes, looking pained like he was experiencing a headache.

“Tattoos,” you clarified. “You have so many and I just…” You stopped mid-sentence when he shot you an angry look. You hadn’t meant the question to be rude. It had just sort of slipped out.

“What’s it to you?”

His eyes were so cold. So, so cold. And now you were starting to get scared. Someone like him belonged in this part of town. He spoke it’s language, knew how to read it like a book. But you, so delicate and doe-eyed and far too trusting for your own good, weren’t just illiterate when it came to these streets. You were completely blind.

“I-I’m sorry…” you apologized, shuffling a half step backwards as if you were afraid Touya might lash out and try to attack you at a moment’s notice.

But when you did this, his cruel and unforgiving expression faltered just the tiniest bit. It was almost like he felt guilty for being so harsh towards you. You’d just asked him a question out of sheer curiosity after all. It’s not like you’d insulted him or anything.

“Um… I guess I just wanted to say thank you for the other day,” you continued shyly, unable to meet his crystal blue gaze, afraid if you looked back it would be lit ablaze with fury again. “Th-that’s all.”

You turned to leave, figuring that maybe you really were bothering him, when a loud and violent crack of thunder erupted through the sky, making you suck in a sharp breath and jump at the sudden sound.

It immediately began to downpour, soon to soak you both down to the bone if you stayed out here for much longer.

“Shit. Get inside!” Touya called to you over the next crack of thunder and hard hissing of rainfall. He didn’t have to tell you twice that time as you came running up the steps and slipping back inside his condo as he held the door open, quickly following after you.

Your hair was already dripping, sending shivers down your back as the droplets of water raced each other over your skin. You hugged your arms around you, feeling a shiver coming on but trying to hide it.

Now what… you thought to yourself. There’s no way that you could get home in such a storm and it sure as hell wasn’t safe to be driving a motorcycle through this kind of weather.

“Here,” Touya said as he tossed you a towel to dry your hair and face with. “Don’t get water all over the place.”

You ran it over your hair and skin but that didn’t change the fact that your clothing was still completely drenched, only causing more water to pool onto the floor around you.

“You can stay until the rain lets up,” Touya was in the middle of saying as he went to fetch a towel of his own. “Until then just—” When he turned and saw you shivering, he stopped short.

Your tanktop was stuck so tightly to your body that he could practically see through it, your sweatpants wrapping around your legs at the thighs and gathering heavy with water at your ankles. Now it was his turn to gulp, though he was better at hiding his nerves than you were.

“I’ll get you some spare clothes,” he sighed, sounding annoyed as he started upstairs. You didn’t know if he wanted you to follow him or not so for now you just stayed put, not wanting to track water through his house. But then he stopped halfway up the stairs and looked at you from over his shoulder, scowling a bit and snapping, “What are you waiting for? C’mon!” You started after him quickly, catching up before he reached the second floor, a trail of soggy footprints tracking the carpet behind you.

Touya’s room was somehow even more minimalistic than the rest of the house, really only containing a king sized bed, a dresser, and a few books piled up on a desk by the window.

While he dug an old t-shirt and a new pair of sweatpants out of his dresser drawers for you, you wandered over to see what he was reading, finding an old copy of “1984” with coffee stains over half the pages where he must’ve spilled some before and “Catcher in the Rye” which had several sticky tabs adorning the pages, presumably where he’d encountered passages that he’d liked.

“What are you doing?” Touya snapped at you again, causing you to turn your head towards him quickly, freezing in place as if you’d just been caught doing something like reading his personal diary. “Get over here.”

As soon as you were in front of him he practically shoved the dry clothes into your arms, pointing at the master bathroom that was connected to his room and ordering you to go change, to leave your wet clothes over the side of the bathtub to dry.

“I’ll be downstairs,” he stated simply as he walked out of the room, leaving you to do as he instructed.

And for a moment, just a moment, you think maybe a small part of him cares for you, however reluctantly.

You close the bathroom door behind you and just stand there for a moment, still holding his clothes in your hands.

He could’ve just said “tough luck” and sent you away to fend for yourself in the downpour. He could’ve just slammed the door in your face. He could’ve made you find your way back to school the other day or left you in the alley because you weren’t his problem, but he hadn’t.

But he hadn’t…

You peel your wet clothes off of you, relieved to be free of the discomfort, and use a hand towel you find hanging on a hook behind the door to dry yourself off as best as you can before slipping into his clothes.

They smell just like the rest of his house. Coffee and campfire smoke with just the slightest twinge of cigarettes. And there’s something else too, you realize as you sniff the t-shirt once more. Some kind of cologne, you think.

“U-um…” you stutter once you come downstairs, seeing him sitting at the kitchen table and shifting through some junk mail that had been addressed to him. “Thank you again for—”

“How about we make a deal,” Touya cut you off, not bothering to look your way as he tossed the mail back onto the tabletop. “You sit down and stay quiet while I work and we consider ourselves even.” Only then does he peer over his shoulder at you, that cold glare back in his eyes. “Got it?”

You nod timidly and then return to the same couch that you woke up on just a few morning ago, back before you knew his name or that he drove a motorcycle or enjoyed classic literature. And so Touya worked away, typing at his laptop fervently behind you.

You want to ask what he’s working on, or what he does for work in general. You want to ask if you can come sit at the table with him and if you can have a glass of water. It’ll be dinner time soon. Will he let you eat or can he not even be bothered to allow you to pick over his leftovers.

“Hey…” you suddenly begin out loud, spotting some DVD’s in the cabinet under the TV on his wall. “No way, I used to love this movie.”

When you bend down to pull out the specific DVD, only then does Touya cease writing his e-mail or organizing his spreadsheet or whatever the hell it is he’s been typing non-stop.

“Hey! God— Would you stop touching all my shit!”

He’s up from his seat at the table and standing over you in just a few short strides. But you’re not intimidated this time. You’re still too caught up in reliving childhood memories involving your favorite movie which is starting to look like is one of Touya’s favorite movies too.

“Can I watch it?” you ask, looking up at him with the puppy-dog eyes that you’ve perfected. “Please, please, pleeeeaaaase…”

He rolls his eyes as you drag out your begging, secretly finding your joy over something so trivial endearing, though he refuses to show that on his face. “Fine,” he caves. “Just keep it down. I’m still working.”

You hop up and go over to put the DVD in the player under the TV, mood noticeably brightening now that you have something to do. Touya returns to the kitchen table as you curl back up on the couch, feet tucked under you and hugging a pillow against your chest as you gaze up at the screen. You make sure to keep the volume down, but it doesn’t matter. Touya can’t help himself but watch too, just sneaking glances at first and then watching scenes in full.

He figures he’s done enough for today, that he can finish the rest later, after you leave, and closes his laptop, coming to sit on the opposite end of the couch from you and joining in watching the movie.

“Oh, this is my favorite part!” you point out excitedly, perfectly quoting the famous line of the scene with a steely expression that matches the main character.

And then the impossible happens.

Touya actually… laughs.

It’s just a quick crack of a smile and a stifled “pfft” sound that escapes him, but you were starting to think that he maybe wasn’t capable of such an emotion. You’re caught off guard at first but soon your smile returns as well.

“I used to watch this all the time,” you tell him. “On rainy days just like this, me and my mom used to just lay on the couch and—” But you stop yourself, all joy draining from your face along with any blood that was blushing your cheeks.

“What is it?” Touya asks, at first sounding a little concerned, and then he realizes.

“Sorry…” You force a fake smile, trying not to bring your newfound good mood down. “It’s just…” Your hands curl into fists on your lap, eyes stuck on the carpet and trying not to cry. “I lost my mom a while back…”

Touya just considers you, his expression unreadable. But inside, the cage of ice that froze around his heart begins to crack.

“Sorry…” you say again, dabbing your eyes with the inside of the t-shirt collar. “It’s just… I haven’t talked about her in such a long time, y’know, it’s like…”

“Hey…” he says, and that time you look up at him, cerulean eyes searching yours with his own kind of sadness. “I’m—” but then the image on the screen abruptly cuts to black, along with every other light source in the condo. “Shit,” he stands up from the couch, the moment lost to the dark. “The power must’ve gone out.”

You hear him walking away, presumably back into the kitchen to get a flashlight or a candle or something, but you stay seated on the couch. You never could get used to the dark, especially not pitch-blackness like this, had been afraid of it since childhood and never grown out of the fear. But you know you’re not alone, that Touya’s nearby, so you stay calm for now.

“Where the fuck did I put that thing…?” Touya grumbles to himself as he blindly feels around in one of the cabinets over the sink for one of the many boxes of matches he has stored around the condo. A perk of his job— the job you don’t know about. Matches are always on the house.

“T-Touya…?” you whimper quietly as the next crack of thunder rumbles the room around you. You never liked sudden, loud noises either.

“Ah, there you are, ya little bastard!” he exclaims, seemingly in triumph, and the next thing you hear is the sizzle of a newly struck match, the soft glow of a candle coming closer, the light chasing away your fear.

He sets the candle on the coffee table that rests between the sofas and then takes a seat on the couch across from you. It smells of pine and campfire smoke. Now you know why you were catching that scent earlier.

“Happens all the time,” he explains begrudgingly. “Comes with the whole shitty neighbourhood package.”

If you weren’t still coming down from the anxiety rush you’d just had, you might’ve giggled. But still, you do take note of his sarcastic joke.

“It’s been raining a lot,” you comment, looking out the window beside the TV, raindrops pelting the glass in a constant yet uneven drum. “Hasn’t it…?”

“Just that time of year, I guess,” he mumbles, hand covering his mouth as his chin rests in his palm. He stares out the window too, and amidst his distraction you gain a new opportunity to stare at him. If you’re careful, he probably won’t even notice.

His hair sticks up at odd angles, a result of having hastily run a towel over his head after first coming in from the rain and not bothered to try and smooth it out afterward. But it’s charming, in its own twisted and imperfect way. Because now he looks more like he’s just a guy sitting at home on a rainy day and less like a picturesque bad boy made for the big screen.

You look back out the window as his head swivels towards your direction, trying to pretend you weren’t just studying him. You only dare to look his way when you notice him staring at you for a little too long than you’re used to out of the corner of your eye.

“What?” you ask, worry laced into your tone like maybe you have something on your face that neither of you noticed before.

Then Touya just simply asks, “You hungry?”

***

Empty Chinese food containers litter the once clear coffee table, half drank glasses of water and whiskey leave wet rings where your glasses were perched. And, still sitting in nothing but the flickering candle light and the periodic flashes of lighting that splinter across the sky from outside the windows, you’re both laughing now. Not stifled chuckles or crooked half grins, but pure, genuine laughter that makes your shoulders shake and your cheeks hurt.

“Yeah and so I didn’t know that they were in the room together so I was just, like, coming back from class and walked in on them and my roommate was soooo mad!” you recounted through bursts of giggles, telling the story of how and why your roommate was so adamant about reserving the dorm when her boyfriend was coming for a visit.

“Well, why didn’t you knock?” Touya asked, playing devil’s advocate through a smirk.

“Um, I don’t know, because I’d never expected to see some guy butt ass naked and fucking my roommates brains out after my biology lab?” you shot back like it was obvious, still smiling awkwardly and holding your arms out in an exaggerated shrug to further dramatize the statement.

This got another laugh out of Touya. You were starting to keep track of all the chuckles you pulled from him like they were gold stars being awarded to you, the incentive of his humanity.

“Wow, didn’t think you had it in you to talk like that?” he teased lightly, leaning on one elbow, now staring at you through a calm, half-lidded gaze.

“What?” you raised an eyebrow, almost in offense. “I can swear.”

“Well, I see that now,” he chided sarcastically.

“What? You think just ‘cause I’m a girl I can’t swear?” You then got bold, standing up on the couch and looking down at him, hands on your hips and still wearing a confident grin. “You think I can’t swear, huh? Well, the other day my fucking bitch of a roommate had the fucking audacity to even fucking pretend that she gave a shit about me when I was gone all night wandering the fucking streets!” You ranted, unable to shake the wide smile on your face, coming alive with the anger you’d kept pent-up for so long.

“And I know! I know that she doesn’t give a shit about me because I aaaaalways hear her talking on the phone with her dumb fucking boyfriend complaining about how—” You then turned your tone into an annoying, dumb, nasally shrill to condescendingly imitate your roommates voice, “I’m like, so, totally boring and all I ever wanna do is like, sit on my bed and do school work and I never wanna like, go out and rush a dumb fucking sorority and shit.”

“Wow…” Touya’s eyes widened for a moment, just the faintest hint of a smile breaking his otherwise calm expression. “How long you been waiting to get that one off your chest?”

You plopped back down on the couch, legs and arms crossed as if in defiance. “Pretty long,” you admitted cherrily.

“Well then, I stand corrected I guess,” Touya rolled his eyes with a smirk.

You wanted to keep talking, to get him to get something off his chest, but when he glanced at the wall clock above the kitchen sink, just barely visible with the distant candlelight flickering shadows over the glossy surface, Touya suggested that the two of you get some rest.

“You mean…” You almost didn’t say it. You were afraid if you brought attention to it, as if reminding him of this, he’d change his mind on the spot. “I can stay?”

“Well, this rain doesn’t look like it’s letting up anytime soon and it’s almost two in the morning so,” he gave a lazy half shrug and lightly scratched at his messy black hair, “it’s just for the night. I’ll bring you back in the morning.”

Touya left you alone on the couch in the candlelight while he went to fetch some blankets from a hall closet. While he was gone, your former enthusiasm and bravery faded back into your usual awkward shyness.

“Here,” he said as he set three folded blankets on the couch next to you. “This enough or…?”

The thunder had reduced its violent volume to a low, simmering rumble, rain still keeping at a harsh pace as it slapped against the windows and the wind howled through the streets.

Was he going to leave you alone?

Was he going to blow out the candle and walk up those stairs and leave you stranded in the dark?

“U-um…” you began with a quiet whine. “Touya?”

The way your voice innocently came up at the end of the question was once again making it hard for Touya to keep his cool.

And, fuck, was he starting to love hearing you say his name.

But, no. Wait… he tried to pull himself back down to earth. Why should I care? This is still just some girl I don’t even know the name of who’s stowed away in my house because she can’t listen to fucking reason.

“What?” he asked flatly.

“Um…” For once, you were glad for the darkness. If the power hadn’t gone out he’d see how red your face had gotten. “A-are you gonna… go upstairs?”

“Well, yeah,” he shrugged like it was obvious, plucking the candle jar up from the coffee table. “That’s where my bed is, so…”

He blew out the flame, plunging the room into near pitch-blackness, flashes of light only illuminating things when there was a quick strike of lightning.

You heard his footsteps begin to walk away and immediately called out in desperation, “Wait!”

The footsteps stopped.

“What now?” he pressed, growing irritated, quick to let the ice around his heart harden for his own sake.

“I-I…” Your whole body tensed, arms wrapped around yourself in a vague attempt at comfort. “It’s too dark… If I can’t see anything I…”

God, you felt stupid. The shame only made you blush harder, wanting so badly to at least seem a little cool in front of him after your whole swearing speech. But you weren’t cool. At least not when you were afraid.

And Touya… Touya couldn’t stand it.

Not in a way that annoyed him or a way that made him click his tongue at what a baby you were being.

But in a way that, once again, warmed his heart a little bit. Made him gain back some of his humanity, if he still had a single shred of it left.

Because it wasn’t very often that he met cute, fragile girls like you.

Scratch that.

He’d never met a cute, fragile girl like you. Not in his line of work.

And, whether he was conscious of it yet or not, he knew that you could never find out. That he could never do anything that let you be dragged into his world of fire and blood and violence.

Because whether it was the way that your little voice quivered in fear of the dark or the way you looked at him through your lashes when you pouted that had made him let you into his condo against his own volition today in the first place…

His world would eat you alive in an instant.

“Alright…” he emphasized through a sigh, a little voice in the back of his mind asking when he started giving into people this easily. “C’mon. You can come up to my room, if you really want.”

You hopped up from the couch, reaching around to find him in the dark.

But he found you first, cupping one of his big yet slender hands around your shoulder and pulling you in a little closer as he helped guide you towards the steps and up to the second floor.

His room was just as dark, but at least now you wouldn’t be alone.

And, despite his cold glare that directed itself at you from time to time, he felt warm, his pale skin surprisingly comforting against yours.

“Go on, get in,” he gestured toward the bed after pulling back the comforter and sheets. You crawled in and felt at ease as your head hit the pillow, his scent filling you up with your next inhale.

You heard some sounds off to the side, like a belt being undone and tossed to the floor, boots being kicked off, and the fabric of his shirt rustling as he pulled it over his head.

Is this really happening?

Your heart began picking up speed again. But not out of fear. No, not out of fear.

“Here, scooch over,” he requested in a volume just barely above a whisper. He finally sounded as worn out as he’d looked before.

You shimmied a little closer to your edge of the bed, hands nestled by your chest as if that would hide the thumping of your heart.

You could feel it loud and clear.

Could he?

“Alright, night…” Touya lazily said as he pulled the covers over his shoulders.

“N-night…” you replied meekly, wishing you could be closer to him but knowing that you’d already pushed your luck enough already.

But as the storm continued to roar and howl outside, thunder picking up its earth shaking intensity once more, you doubted you’d be able to sleep that night.

You tried to stay as still as you could until you figured Touya was asleep. Only then did you begin to toss and turn and try to find any position that would help put your mind at ease.

After about ten minutes, the sudden occurrence of his voice made you flinch.

“How long you gonna keep doing that?” he grumbled hoarsely.

“I-I thought you were asleep!” you nervously chirped.

“Well how could I be when you keep moving every five seconds? Here—” And just like that, Touya was flipping over to face you, pulling you towards him like you weighed nothing, body sliding over the sheets, and wrapping his tattooed arms around you, pressing your back against his chest. “Now don’t move.”

You wouldn’t.

No matter how badly you wanted to change position, now and only now would you find the will to stay completely still, feeling safe and anxious in his grasp at the same time, if that were possible.

You could feel his breath on the back of your neck, slow and even, clearly in control of his body far better than you were of yours. And now you knew he could feel your pulse running wild inside your chest.

And Touya…

Well, Touya wasn’t nearly as in control of his body as you thought him to be. Or rather, it was his thoughts that were slipping out of his control.

He could feel your beating heart, so fast and intense at the simplest touch that he had half a mind to show you something that would really get you excited, but that he was able to control from manifesting on the outside.

As he held you in his arms, he caught the scent of your hair, so different from the coffee and campfire smoke that covered his condo.

Because you smelled just the way you looked— like something delicate with just the tiniest hint of spice.

With each breath he seemed to identify something new. There was vanilla and clean laundry and nutmeg. It all got him wondering how you tasted. If you’d be just as sweet or perhaps have a little more spice to your kiss.

Now his heart rate was picking up, though you were fast asleep by then, unable to detect his nerves and silent anticipation.

When his hands started to slide further down your arms, which were still pulled in close to your chest, headed for your waist, he had to stop himself.

Focus.

He heard the warning in Tomura’s voice and felt his eyebrows begin to knit together.

Don’t get carried away with unnecessary distractions.

But wasn’t this exactly what he’d been needing, been craving?

Weren’t you exactly what he’d been needing?

The drugs and the alcohol were quick fixes, temporary patches to try and plug up the hole that had sprung in the dam that was Touya’s— and Dabi’s— menagerie of messed up memories.

But you…

You were the life raft that could lift him from the ever present flood and carry him back to shore.

He forced his hands to glide back up to where they’d rested around your shoulders, cursing himself for who he was, for what he’d done, for what he was still going to do.

Because as he lay there that night, it finally hit him.

There was something here. Something he felt for you.

And no matter how much he tried to push it down, push it down, push it down…

He knew that one day the dam would break.

***

You were the first to wake that morning and, to your surprise, Touya’s arms were still wrapped around you, tattooed hands lightly clasping yours where they’d remained huddled by your chest.

You didn’t move. Didn’t want to disturb this moment. You didn’t even care what time it was or if you’d be missing class. Hell, you’d miss a whole damn semester if it meant staying like this.

But the fantasy got away from you as Touya took in a deep inhale and began to shift around, carefully pulling his hands back to himself as to not disturb you, unaware that you’d already been awake.

So you played along, closed your eyes and pretended to still be asleep, curious what he would do now.

You heard him yawn silently as he scratched the back of his neck, then seeming to smooth down his inky, black bedhead.

And then he just seemed to… lay there.

Propped up on one elbow, he stared down at you, watching as your chest slowly rose and fell with the peace of sleep. He noticed how long your eyelashes really were, how they only added to your fragile beauty.

He wanted to reach a hand over and gently stroke your hair, but he restrained himself.

Focus, his boss’s voice returned to taunt him.

His shoulders slumped when he realized that he’d have to get back to work soon.

When Touya finally forced himself to roll out of bed, only then did you open your eyes and peer over your shoulder at him, catching sight of all the graffitied ink that marked his back. And then you saw something else.

You saw what the tattoos were covering.

And there were so many scars. Too many to count. Most of them appeared to be from burns or something of the sort.

Whatever the cause had been, it looked like it had been excruciating.

There were some scattered slices of white lines decorating other places on his body as well, mainly his arms, some crossing paths in X’s or T’s.

What had done such a thing to him? Or who? How long ago had he sustained such injuries and then recovered well enough to only have more pain bestowed upon his skin, leaving behind art over the anguish?

And he turned then, catching you staring. Though, instead of scowling and scolding you like he probably would’ve done before, instead he just looked at you through that half-lidded, azure gaze of his and gave a lazy, “Mornin’.”

“G-good morning,” you stammered as you rolled over and untangled your legs from the sheets, dangling them over the edge of the bed to face him.

“Sleep well, princess?”

The patronizing way he said the nickname made you blush angrily, as if he was mocking you again.

You just couldn’t figure him out.

Did he like to make you suffer or was it just his odd way of showing you affection?

But as Touya was learning, you weren’t always a sweet little baby who’d just take any insults that were thrown at her. You could dish it back, if he was going to make you take it.

“Would’ve been better if you hadn’t kept putting your cold feet on me,” you remarked as you passed him, heading towards the bathroom. Touya just watched you go with slight astonishment. The moment you closed the door behind you though, you couldn’t contain your giddy smile any longer. You had to wrestle it off of your face before exiting the bathroom.

But when you looked around, Touya was gone.

You poked your head out into the hallway and then leaned over the railing of the second floor, peering down into the rest of the condo and surveying the area, spotting him making his coffee in the kitchen, still shirtless and tousle-haired.

Sauntering down to meet him, you sat yourself down at the kitchen table, eyeing his laptop where you remembered he’d been typing away like his life depended on it last night.

“Power’s back on, by the way,” he commented, pressing the button on his coffee machine. “If you couldn’t tell.”

“That’s good,” you said, trying your best to avoid what you really wanted to ask, which was “what were you typing yesterday?”

But you wanted to know.

You wanted to know so bad, curiosity always having a relentless way of eating away at you until you satisfied its craving for the answers.

“Hey, so…” you began, hesitant. “What do you do for work, exactly?”

Touya tensed, pausing for a moment before reaching for his coffee.

Then he shook off the sudden spike of surprise and said, “Nothing you need to worry about.”

“Oh, c’mon,” you pressed with a soft smile. “Can’t you just tell me?”

Touya appeared to grow frustrated for a moment before shedding the expression and taking on a new one of casual coolness, leaning back against the counter, coffee cup in hand. “Why don’t you answer me a question?” he inquired. “What’s your name?”

You felt a wave of embarrassment rush through you, feeling your ears get hot and hoping that it wasn’t showing on your face.

You’d completely forgotten to tell him your name.

You’d showed up at his house, borrowed his clothes, and slept with him in his bed and the whole entire time he hadn’t even known your name.

So you told him, feeling a little bit of the embarrassment subside when he tried to hide a smirk behind his coffee cup with the next sip.

“That fits you, y’know,” he said. You just looked at him with minor confusion. No one had ever told you that and you certainly had never thought that about yourself.

But now that Touya knew your name, he could start calling you by it. And you craved the first time you’d hear it come out in his low, raspy voice.

Then, completely unaffected, he raised his mug to you and asked, “Coffee?”

“Please,” you nodded with a smile.

He poured you a cup and as he did you added with a little attitude, “Oh, and that’ll be with milk and cream, thank you very much.”

Touya scoffed. “You think I got any of that here?”

Your sassy smirk fell. “Wait… You really don’t?”

Now it was Touya’s turn to tease you. “No, I do,” he admitted. “Just wanted to see that look on your face.”

You wanted to be mad, to have something to toss at him for so shamelessly making fun of you, but you couldn’t help yourself. Your lips quirked into a crooked smile and you just shook your head at him.

He brought the milk and vanilla coffee creamer with him, sliding them your way along with the mug of coffee as he sat at the table.

You knew he was watching you as you poured and mixed the milk and creamer into the coffee, the shade going from black to a light tan. You thought he’d make a comment about how you were ruining it that way, that you were probably too addicted to sugar to ever be able to appreciate real coffee like he could, but he didn’t.

Instead, he just continued to watch you, almost dreamily, gaze level with yours, looking up at him with that doe-eyed expression again as you sipped at your coffee, careful not to burn your tongue.

You were just about to ask why he was staring at you like that when his phone rang, pulling both your attention to the screen lighting up with the name “TOMURA” appearing at the top in all caps, like it was a warning, a threat.

Touya snatched his phone up fast, not wanting you to read the name and then have it in you to ask “Who’s Tomura?” in that naive, blissfully ignorant way you had about you sometimes. But you’d already seen it. And you were already wondering just that.

“Hello?” Touya began as he picked up the call and hurried back up the stairs into his bedroom where he closed the door and disappeared from your view. You couldn’t hear him now either. Whatever, or rather, whoever this Tomura person was, the matter must’ve been urgent.

“What the fuck, Dabi!” Tomura was raging. “Why the fuck didn’t you send over the copy of the report last night like I told you to?!”

Fuuuuck… Touya thought in retrospect. He’d meant to finish it up after the movie had ended, but then the power had gone out and he’d gotten caught up in conversation with you under the dancing shadows of the pine and campfire candlelight.

“You think we have time to be taking this at our own pace?!” Tomura continued to scream at him from the other end of the phone. In the meantime, Touya set the phone down on the sink counter in his master bathroom, his boss’s screaming loud enough to be heard without the device pressed to his ear, and ran his hands over his face as he leaned his head back against the wall, kicking himself for forgetting something so crucial. “Chisaki was already probably five steps ahead of us before and now, thanks to your negligence, he’s probably another ten!”

“Tomura…” Touya grumbled, trying to keep his cool and deliver a fake apology to defuse the bomb that was currently going off on the other end of the call. “Look, man, I’m sorry, ok. It was the storm last night. The power went out and my laptop was almost dead and I didn’t wanna lose the document so I just—”

“SO THEN YOU DRIVE THE FUCK OVER TO THE OFFICE!” Tomura was going to pop a blood vessel, or several, at this rate. Touya could already see the fresh blood caked under his boss’s fingernails, bright red tracks blossoming on his wrists and neck to match.

“ALRIGHT! Alright!” Touya shouted back, trying to keep his voice down so you wouldn’t hear from downstairs. “Alright, I’ll finish it right now and send it over. Just calm the fuck down.”

It was always a risk to be stern with Tomura. Only the boss could abuse his grunts, verbally or physically, yet, for some reason, Touya always got a little extra leeway with him.

Not Touya, he reminded himself. Dabi.

“No! No, you’re coming to the office right now, you hear me?! So get your ass on that busted up bike of yours and get the fuck over here!” Tomura hung up after that, probably slamming his phone on his desk and cracking yet another screen.

But Touya was glad that he didn’t have to hear him shrieking anymore, at least, not until he walked through the doors and into his office. Tomura was gonna lose his shit then and Dabi would have to stand still and clench his jaw, forcing himself to take it until Tomura’s tantrum was satisfied.

That’s right.

Dabi.

Not Touya.

Dabi would have to take it.

Touya let out an exasperated sigh, slapped his hands down on the smooth sink counter, glared at himself in the mirror, then exited the master bathroom, startling you from downstairs as he slammed his bedroom door shut a little harder than he’d meant to.

“Uh… everything alright?” you asked cautiously as he came marching through the kitchen, already able to guess the answer well enough.

All Touya snapped back in response was, “Get up. I’m taking you home.”

Your eyebrows knit together as you stayed seated, not liking that he was back to talking to you like that after…

After what?

After you’d showed up at his house, borrowed his clothes, and slept with him in his bed.

“Did you not just fucking hear me?!” he shouted at you then, making you flinch as the fury ignited in his vision.

“I-I—” You couldn’t even get the words out, because the moment the sound croaked out of your throat tears began to well in your eyes.

You could dish it back, if he was going to make you take it.

But not when he was like this.

Not when he was scaring you and making you think that maybe all of this was a mistake and you should’ve just stayed in the dorm and caught up on your term papers instead of wandering back down into the bad parts of town to find him.

“God damnit, I don’t have time for this.” Touya grabbed you by the arm, making you hiss at the pain of the strong grip, and began pulling you towards the front door.

“But—! My clothes!” You began to protest, but it was no use. You were already outside and struggling to keep up with his pace as he dragged you back towards the lot where his bike was parked. “Stop! My shoes! All my stuff is still—!”

“You’ll live,” Touya growled, only letting go of you once you were in front of the bike. “Now get on. Don’t make me ask twice.”

The tears come streaming down your face in pairs, gathering at your chin and falling in drops onto the fabric of his t-shirt. The one you’re still wearing.

But he gets what he wants. He doesn’t have to ask twice.

You get on and hold onto him as he speeds through the city back towards your college campus, barefoot and sobbing and so, so, so fucking angry at yourself for ever thinking he was anyone else besides the person he warned you about when you’d first met.

You hold it together the best you can until he drops you off right where he did the first time.

“I’ll bring your things back later,” he says without looking at you at first. Then he remembered to add, “Just stay away from downtown. I mean it. The next time you show up, I won’t be there to save you.”

And then it all comes out, breath hitching in your chest as you cry out, as violent and heart broken as your body will allow, “I HATE YOU!”

But Touya doesn’t react. He just does exactly what he did the last time.

He leaves you in the screech and tire smoke of his motorcycle, not even bothering to look back once.

“Yeah, sweetheart…” Touya mutters to himself as he speeds towards Tomura’s office, the guilt already tearing him apart from the inside. “I hate me too.”

***

(Whoa… so I did NOT expect this to be THIS long, my GOD. Honestly this all started with the whole “laying in his bed and he’s cradling you in his arms because you’re afraid of thunder and the dark” thing but it totally spiraled out of control haha. And what’s more is that this is only part one and I’ve actually written six parts total. So yeah. This fic is technically done but i like to go through and reread/edit before i ever post anything.

But anyway, if anyone made it this far, thank you for reading and I hope it was enjoyable. Was it enjoyable? Even I don’t know and I wrote it haha.

Things are gonna get pretty crazy from here on out though. Fair warning, I guess.)

#my hero academia #dabi x reader #touya x reader #mha #bnha #boku no hero academia #dabi bnha #dabi mha #bnha x reader #mha x reader #touya todoroki #can’t believe that this time when I was having my mental breakdown my brain was like #‘yknow what we should do this time to feel better. write an obnoxiously long dabi fanfic’#like ok that’s fine I guess

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